initial commit of ebook 30720HEAD main

author: Roger Frank <rfrank@pglaf.org> 2025-10-14 19:54:21 -0700
committer: Roger Frank <rfrank@pglaf.org> 2025-10-14 19:54:21 -0700
commit: 8accdfb11fcfc3f92fed0dd517902caebab7984a (patch)
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+      The Project Gutenberg eBook of Happy Days for Boys and Girls, by Various.
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+
+<pre>
+
+The Project Gutenberg EBook of Happy Days for Boys and Girls, by Various
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
+
+
+Title: Happy Days for Boys and Girls
+
+Author: Various
+
+Release Date: December 20, 2009 [EBook #30720]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK HAPPY DAYS FOR BOYS AND GIRLS ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by Juliet Sutherland, Sam W. and the Online
+Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net
+
+
+
+
+
+
+</pre>
+
+
+
+<div class="figcenter ipadboth" style="width: 639px;">
+<img src="images/hd001.jpg" width="639" height="700"
+alt="Front cover - black, green and gold decoration" />
+</div>
+
+
+
+<h1 class="padtop padbase"><big>HAPPY DAYS</big><br />
+<br />
+<small>FOR</small><br />
+<br />
+BOYS AND GIRLS.</h1>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 300px;">
+<img src="images/hd002.jpg" width="300" height="298"
+alt="Three children playing" />
+</div>
+
+<p class="center padtop">136 ILLUSTRATIONS</p>
+
+<p class="center padtop"><small>CONTRIBUTIONS BY</small></p>
+
+<p class="center padbase"><small>LOUISA M. ALCOTT, <span class="space">&nbsp;</span> ALICE AND PH&OElig;BE CAREY, <span class="space">&nbsp;</span> C. A. STEPHENS,<br />
+MARY N. PRESCOTT, <span class="space">&nbsp;</span> WILLIAM M. THAYER, <span class="space">&nbsp;</span> F. CHESEBORO,<br />
+J. G. WOOD, <span class="space">&nbsp;</span> S. W. LANDER, and others.</small></p>
+
+<p class="center"><small>PHILADELPHIA:</small><br />
+<span class="lrgfont">PORTER &amp; COATES,</span><br />
+<small>822 CHESTNUT STREET.</small></p>
+
+
+
+<p class="center padtop padbase">&mdash;&mdash;&mdash;&mdash;<br />
+Copyright, 1877,<br />
+<span class="smcap">By Horace B. Fuller and Porter &amp; Coates</span>.<br />
+&mdash;&mdash;&mdash;&mdash;</p>
+
+<p class="center padbase">&mdash;&mdash;&mdash;&mdash;<br />
+<small>PRESS OF<br />
+HENRY B. ASHMEAD.<br />
+PHILADELPHIA.</small><br />
+&mdash;&mdash;&mdash;&mdash;</p>
+
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+
+<div class="figcenter ipadtop" style="width: 455px;">
+<img src="images/hd003.jpg" width="455" height="600"
+alt="A boy and a girl fishing" />
+</div>
+
+<p class="caption">YOUNG FISHERS.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_5" id="Page_5">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>5]</a></span></p>
+
+<div class="figcenter ipadtop" style="width: 450px;">
+<img src="images/hd004.jpg" width="450" height="158"
+alt="A bird and nestlings" />
+</div>
+
+<h2>CONTENTS.</h2>
+
+<h3>PROSE.</h3>
+
+<table border="0" cellpadding="2" cellspacing="0" width="60%" summary="Table of contents, prose">
+  <tr>
+    <td class="tdl">&nbsp;</td>
+    <td class="tdli">&nbsp;</td>
+    <td class="tdr"><small>PAGE</small></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td class="tdl">Accident, The</td>
+    <td class="tdli">Louisa M. Alcott</td>
+    <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_280">280</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td class="tdl">Adventure in the Life of Salvator Rosa</td>
+    <td class="tdli">L. D. L.</td>
+    <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_84lower">84</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td class="tdl">African Elephant, The</td>
+    <td class="tdli">J. G. Wood</td>
+    <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_318">319</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td class="tdl">Animal in Armor, The</td>
+    <td class="tdli">&nbsp;</td>
+    <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_74">75</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td class="tdl">Aunt Thankful</td>
+    <td class="tdli">M. H.</td>
+    <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_253">253</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td class="tdl">Barn Swallows</td>
+    <td class="tdli">W. Wander</td>
+    <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_194">194</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td class="tdl">Birds</td>
+    <td class="tdli">F. F. E.</td>
+    <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_25">25</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td class="tdl">&ldquo;Bitters&rdquo;</td>
+    <td class="tdli">&nbsp;</td>
+    <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_203">203</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td class="tdl">Books and Reading</td>
+    <td class="tdli">&nbsp;</td>
+    <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_36">36</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td class="tdl">Bruin at a Maple-Sugar Party</td>
+    <td class="tdli">C. A. Stephens</td>
+    <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_313lower">313</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td class="tdl">Camels</td>
+    <td class="tdli">J. G. Wood</td>
+    <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_338">339</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td class="tdl">Cave at Benton&rsquo;s Ridge</td>
+    <td class="tdli">F. E. S.</td>
+    <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_350">350</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td class="tdl">Charley</td>
+    <td class="tdli">&nbsp;</td>
+    <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_368">368</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td class="tdl">Charlie&rsquo;s Escape</td>
+    <td class="tdli">&nbsp;</td>
+    <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_108">109</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td class="tdl">Charlie&rsquo;s Christmas</td>
+    <td class="tdli">&nbsp;</td>
+    <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_79">79</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td class="tdl">Crippled Boy, The</td>
+    <td class="tdli">S. W. Lander</td>
+    <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_374lower">374</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td class="tdl">Daisy&rsquo;s Temptation</td>
+    <td class="tdli">&nbsp;</td>
+    <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_111">111</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td class="tdl">Daring Feat</td>
+    <td class="tdli">&nbsp;</td>
+    <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_183">183</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td class="tdl">Davy Boys&rsquo; Fishing-Pond</td>
+    <td class="tdli">L. M. D.</td>
+    <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_130">130</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td class="tdl">Envy Punished</td>
+    <td class="tdli">&nbsp;</td>
+    <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_271lower">271</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td class="tdl">Every Cloud has a Silver Lining</td>
+    <td class="tdli">&nbsp;</td>
+    <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_31">31</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td class="tdl">Faithful Friends</td>
+    <td class="tdli">X.</td>
+    <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_237">237</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td class="tdl">Fairy Bird, The</td>
+    <td class="tdli">Louisa M. Alcott</td>
+    <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_207">207</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td class="tdl">Fred and Dog Stephen</td>
+    <td class="tdli">&nbsp;</td>
+    <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_204">205</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td class="tdl">Giraffe, The</td>
+    <td class="tdli">J. G. Wood</td>
+    <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_188">188</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td class="tdl">Going for the Letters</td>
+    <td class="tdli">&nbsp;</td>
+    <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_198">198</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td class="tdl">Good Word not Lost</td>
+    <td class="tdli">&nbsp;</td>
+    <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_308lower">308</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td class="tdl">Gratitude of a Cow</td>
+    <td class="tdli">&nbsp;</td>
+    <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_196">196</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td class="tdl">Haunts of Wild Beasts</td>
+    <td class="tdli">C. A. Stephens</td>
+    <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_355lower">355</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td class="tdl">Help Yourselves</td>
+    <td class="tdli">Wm. M. Thayer</td>
+    <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_46">46</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td class="tdl">Holiday Luck</td>
+    <td class="tdli">Sara Conant</td>
+    <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_296lower">296</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td class="tdl">How a Good Dinner was Lost</td>
+    <td class="tdli">Fannie Benedict</td>
+    <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_256">256</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td class="tdl">How Maggie paid the Rent</td>
+    <td class="tdli">&nbsp;</td>
+    <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_227">227</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td class="tdl" colspan="3"><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_6" id="Page_6">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>6]</a></span></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td class="figcenter ipadboth" colspan="3"><img src="images/hd005.jpg" width="450" height="111" alt="Children sledding" /></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td class="tdl">How Sweetie&rsquo;s &ldquo;Ship came In&rdquo;</td>
+    <td class="tdli">Margaret Field</td>
+    <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_96">96</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td class="tdl">Hunting Adventure</td>
+    <td class="tdli">&nbsp;</td>
+    <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_362">362</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td class="tdl">If; or, Bessie Green&rsquo;s Holiday</td>
+    <td class="tdli">&nbsp;</td>
+    <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_176">176</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td class="tdl">Iron Ring, The</td>
+    <td class="tdli">A. L. O. E.</td>
+    <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_76">76</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td class="tdl">It takes Two to Make a Quarrel</td>
+    <td class="tdli">&nbsp;</td>
+    <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_306">306</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td class="tdl">John Stocks and the Bison</td>
+    <td class="tdli">Author of &ldquo;Drifting to Sea&rdquo;</td>
+    <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_138">138</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td class="tdl">Kindness Rewarded</td>
+    <td class="tdli">&nbsp;</td>
+    <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_28lower">28</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td class="tdl">Kindness to Animals</td>
+    <td class="tdli">Robert Handy</td>
+    <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_284">284</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td class="tdl">Lace-making</td>
+    <td class="tdli">&nbsp;</td>
+    <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_44">44</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td class="tdl">Lame Susie</td>
+    <td class="tdli">&nbsp;</td>
+    <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_261">261</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td class="tdl">Lion the Fire-dog</td>
+    <td class="tdli">Benjamin Clarke</td>
+    <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_38">38</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td class="tdl">Lion on the Threshold</td>
+    <td class="tdli">&nbsp;</td>
+    <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_190">190</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td class="tdl">Marcellin</td>
+    <td class="tdli">&nbsp;</td>
+    <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_82">82</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td class="tdl">Merry Christmas</td>
+    <td class="tdli">E. G. C.</td>
+    <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_166lower">166</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td class="tdl">Monkeys</td>
+    <td class="tdli">L. B. U.</td>
+    <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_301">301</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td class="tdl">Motherless Boy, The</td>
+    <td class="tdli">&nbsp;</td>
+    <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_49lower">49</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td class="tdl">Mouse and Canary, The</td>
+    <td class="tdli">&nbsp;</td>
+    <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_287lower">287</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td class="tdl">Mrs. Pike&rsquo;s Prisoners</td>
+    <td class="tdli">M. R. W.</td>
+    <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_123">123</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td class="tdl">My Mother&rsquo;s Stories</td>
+    <td class="tdli">E. E.</td>
+    <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_303lower">303</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td class="tdl">My Story</td>
+    <td class="tdli">S. P. Brigham</td>
+    <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_332lower">332</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td class="tdl">Nearly Lost</td>
+    <td class="tdli">&nbsp;</td>
+    <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_365">365</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td class="tdl">Neddy&rsquo;s Half Holiday</td>
+    <td class="tdli">&nbsp;</td>
+    <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_120">121</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td class="tdl">Nicolo&rsquo;s Little Friend</td>
+    <td class="tdli">H. A. F.</td>
+    <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_390lower">390</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td class="tdl">Nino</td>
+    <td class="tdli">Sara Conant</td>
+    <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_244">244</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td class="tdl">Orchard&rsquo;s Grandmother</td>
+    <td class="tdli">S. O. J.</td>
+    <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_9">9</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td class="tdl">Parsees, The</td>
+    <td class="tdli">&nbsp;</td>
+    <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_371">371</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td class="tdl">Polly Arrives</td>
+    <td class="tdli">Louisa M. Alcott</td>
+    <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_282">282</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td class="tdl">Ponto</td>
+    <td class="tdli">&nbsp;</td>
+    <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_310">310</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td class="tdl">Puppet</td>
+    <td class="tdli">Mary B. Harris</td>
+    <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_162">162</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td class="tdl">Puss</td>
+    <td class="tdli">Robert Handy</td>
+    <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_293lower">293</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td class="tdl">Que</td>
+    <td class="tdli">Mary B. Harris</td>
+    <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_144">144</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td class="tdl">Reason and Instinct</td>
+    <td class="tdli">Flaneur</td>
+    <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_60">60</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td class="tdl">Reginald&rsquo;s First School-Days</td>
+    <td class="tdli">&nbsp;</td>
+    <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_384">384</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td class="tdl">Rough</td>
+    <td class="tdli">M. R. O.</td>
+    <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_17lower">17</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td class="tdl">Sally Sunbeam</td>
+    <td class="tdli">&nbsp;</td>
+    <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_250">251</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td class="tdl">Saved by a Fiddle</td>
+    <td class="tdli">Sir Lascelles Wraxall</td>
+    <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_211lower">211</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td class="tdl">Song of the Bird</td>
+    <td class="tdli">&nbsp;</td>
+    <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_323">323</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td class="tdl">Squanko</td>
+    <td class="tdli">F. Cheseboro</td>
+    <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_274">274</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td class="tdl">Squirrels</td>
+    <td class="tdli">&nbsp;</td>
+    <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_160">160</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td class="tdl">St. Bernard Dog</td>
+    <td class="tdli">&nbsp;</td>
+    <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_53">53</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td class="tdl">Stitching and Teaching</td>
+    <td class="tdli">E. G. C.</td>
+    <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_152">152</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td class="tdl">Stories about Dogs</td>
+    <td class="tdli">&nbsp;</td>
+    <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_136">137</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td class="tdl">Strange Combat, A</td>
+    <td class="tdli">C. A. Stephens</td>
+    <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_116">116</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td class="tdl">Sweet One for Polly</td>
+    <td class="tdli">Louisa M. Alcott</td>
+    <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_277">277</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td class="tdl" colspan="3"><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_7" id="Page_7">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>7]</a></span></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td class="figcenter ipadboth" colspan="3"><img src="images/hd006.jpg" width="450" height="94" alt="Two children having a picnic" /></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td class="tdl">Thorns</td>
+    <td class="tdli">&nbsp;</td>
+    <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_346">347</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td class="tdl">Tim the Match-Boy</td>
+    <td class="tdli">&nbsp;</td>
+    <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_268">268</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td class="tdl">Truant, The</td>
+    <td class="tdli">&nbsp;</td>
+    <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_393">393</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td class="tdl">Two Friends. A Story for Boys</td>
+    <td class="tdli">&nbsp;</td>
+    <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_288">288</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td class="tdl">Two Gentlemen in Fur Cloaks</td>
+    <td class="tdli">&nbsp;</td>
+    <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_106">107</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td class="tdl">Uncle John&rsquo;s School-Days</td>
+    <td class="tdli">&nbsp;</td>
+    <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_234">234</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td class="tdl">What Nelly gave Away</td>
+    <td class="tdli">&nbsp;</td>
+    <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_114">115</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td class="tdl">White Butterfly</td>
+    <td class="tdli">&nbsp;</td>
+    <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_63lower">63</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td class="tdl">Wings</td>
+    <td class="tdli">&nbsp;</td>
+    <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_272">273</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td class="tdl">Working is Better than Wishing</td>
+    <td class="tdli">&nbsp;</td>
+    <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_65">65</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td class="tdl">Young Artist, The</td>
+    <td class="tdli">&nbsp;</td>
+    <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_218">218</a></td>
+  </tr>
+</table>
+
+
+<h3>POETRY.</h3>
+
+<table border="0" cellpadding="2" cellspacing="0" width="60%" summary="Table of contents, poetry">
+  <tr>
+    <td class="tdl">All among the Hay</td>
+    <td class="tdli">&nbsp;</td>
+    <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_286">286</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td class="tdl">Annie</td>
+    <td class="tdli">&nbsp;</td>
+    <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_174">175</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td class="tdl">Answer to a Child&rsquo;s Question</td>
+    <td class="tdli">&nbsp;</td>
+    <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_113lower">113</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td class="tdl">Bird&rsquo;s Nest, The</td>
+    <td class="tdli">Mary. N. Prescott</td>
+    <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_216lower">216</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td class="tdl">C&mdash;A&mdash;T</td>
+    <td class="tdli">&nbsp;</td>
+    <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_186">186</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td class="tdl">Cherry-Time</td>
+    <td class="tdli">&nbsp;</td>
+    <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_128">128</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td class="tdl">Child&rsquo;s Petition</td>
+    <td class="tdli">&nbsp;</td>
+    <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_392lower">392</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td class="tdl">Child&rsquo;s Prayer</td>
+    <td class="tdli">&nbsp;</td>
+    <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_137lower">137</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td class="tdl">Children</td>
+    <td class="tdli">&nbsp;</td>
+    <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_62">62</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td class="tdl">Children&rsquo;s Song</td>
+    <td class="tdli">&nbsp;</td>
+    <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_141lower">141</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td class="tdl">Cleopatra</td>
+    <td class="tdli">Edgar Fawcett</td>
+    <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_388">388</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td class="tdl">Common Things</td>
+    <td class="tdli">&nbsp;</td>
+    <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_249lower">249</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td class="tdl">Coral-Workers, The</td>
+    <td class="tdli">&nbsp;</td>
+    <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_37lower">37</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td class="tdl">Counting Baby&rsquo;s Toes</td>
+    <td class="tdli">&nbsp;</td>
+    <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_345lower">345</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td class="tdl">Dinner and a Kiss</td>
+    <td class="tdli">&nbsp;</td>
+    <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_381">381</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td class="tdl">Dream of Summer, A</td>
+    <td class="tdli">Mary N. Prescott</td>
+    <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_29">29</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td class="tdl">Erl King</td>
+    <td class="tdli">Mary N. Prescott</td>
+    <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_240">241</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td class="tdl">Faithful unto Death; or, The Sentry of Herculaneum</td>
+    <td class="tdli">W. B. B. Stevens</td>
+    <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_230">230</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td class="tdl">Flight of the Birds</td>
+    <td class="tdli">&nbsp;</td>
+    <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_56lower">56</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td class="tdl">For the Children</td>
+    <td class="tdli">&nbsp;</td>
+    <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_58">58</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td class="tdl">Forced Rabbit, The</td>
+    <td class="tdli">&nbsp;</td>
+    <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_180">180</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td class="tdl">From Bad to Worse</td>
+    <td class="tdli">Alice Cary</td>
+    <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_331">331</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td class="tdl">Frost, The</td>
+    <td class="tdli">&nbsp;</td>
+    <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_22lower">22</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td class="tdl">Good-Humor</td>
+    <td class="tdli">&nbsp;</td>
+    <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_35lower">35</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td class="tdl">Good Shepherd, The</td>
+    <td class="tdli">&nbsp;</td>
+    <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_52lower">52</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td class="tdl">I am Coming</td>
+    <td class="tdli">&nbsp;</td>
+    <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_110lower">110</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td class="tdl">Kind to Everything</td>
+    <td class="tdli">&nbsp;</td>
+    <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_68lower">68</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td class="tdl">Let him Live</td>
+    <td class="tdli">Mary R. Whittlesey</td>
+    <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_300lower">300</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td class="tdl">Little Helpers</td>
+    <td class="tdli">&nbsp;</td>
+    <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_72">73</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td class="tdl">Little Home-body</td>
+    <td class="tdli">Geo. Cooper</td>
+    <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_119lower">119</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td class="tdl" colspan="3"><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_8" id="Page_8">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>8]</a></span></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td class="figcenter ipadboth" colspan="3"><img src="images/hd007.jpg" width="450" height="89" alt="Two figures walk through a snowy landscape" /></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td class="tdl">Little Red Riding-Hood</td>
+    <td class="tdli">L. E. Landon</td>
+    <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_224">224</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td class="tdl">My Little Hero</td>
+    <td class="tdli">&nbsp;</td>
+    <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_92">92</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td class="tdl">My Mother</td>
+    <td class="tdli">&nbsp;</td>
+    <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_382">382</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td class="tdl">Minutes</td>
+    <td class="tdli">&nbsp;</td>
+    <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_196">196</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td class="tdl">My Picture</td>
+    <td class="tdli">&nbsp;</td>
+    <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_23">23</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td class="tdl">Music Lesson, The</td>
+    <td class="tdli">&nbsp;</td>
+    <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_21">22</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td class="tdl">Nothing to Do</td>
+    <td class="tdli">&nbsp;</td>
+    <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_104">105</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td class="tdl">Now the Sun is Sinking</td>
+    <td class="tdli">&nbsp;</td>
+    <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_206">206</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td class="tdl">Our Daily Bread</td>
+    <td class="tdli">&nbsp;</td>
+    <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_157lower">157</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td class="tdl">Preparing for Christmas</td>
+    <td class="tdli">&nbsp;</td>
+    <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_142">143</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td class="tdl">Rich and Poor</td>
+    <td class="tdli">Ellen M. H. Gates</td>
+    <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_42">42</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td class="tdl">Rigmarole about a Tea-Party</td>
+    <td class="tdli">&nbsp;</td>
+    <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_206lower">206</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td class="tdl">Robin Redbreast</td>
+    <td class="tdli">&nbsp;</td>
+    <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_95">95</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td class="tdl">Rustic Mirror, The</td>
+    <td class="tdli">M. R. W.</td>
+    <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_222">222</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td class="tdl">Sailing the Boats</td>
+    <td class="tdli">George Cooper</td>
+    <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_304">305</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td class="tdl">Secret</td>
+    <td class="tdli">Mary R. Whittlesey</td>
+    <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_264">264</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td class="tdl">Shakspeare</td>
+    <td class="tdli">Richard H. Stoddard</td>
+    <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_389">389</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td class="tdl">Sheep and the Goat</td>
+    <td class="tdli">&nbsp;</td>
+    <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_328lower">328</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td class="tdl">Silly Young Rabbit, The</td>
+    <td class="tdli">&nbsp;</td>
+    <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_242">242</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td class="tdl">Silver and Gold</td>
+    <td class="tdli">Ellis Gray</td>
+    <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_265lower">265</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td class="tdl">Smiles and Tears</td>
+    <td class="tdli">&nbsp;</td>
+    <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_390">390</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td class="tdl">Snow-Fall</td>
+    <td class="tdli">&nbsp;</td>
+    <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_150">151</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td class="tdl">Snow-Man, The</td>
+    <td class="tdli">Marian Douglas</td>
+    <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_192lower">192</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td class="tdl">Song of the Rose</td>
+    <td class="tdli">T. E. D.</td>
+    <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_41">41</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td class="tdl">Sparrow, The</td>
+    <td class="tdli">&nbsp;</td>
+    <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_122lower">122</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td class="tdl">Spring has Come</td>
+    <td class="tdli">&nbsp;</td>
+    <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_202lower">202</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td class="tdl">Story of Johnny Dawdle</td>
+    <td class="tdli">&nbsp;</td>
+    <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_47">47</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td class="tdl">Summer</td>
+    <td class="tdli">&nbsp;</td>
+    <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_78lower">78</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td class="tdl">That Calf</td>
+    <td class="tdli">Ph&oelig;be Cary</td>
+    <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_70">70</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td class="tdl">To the Cardinal Flower</td>
+    <td class="tdli">M. R. W.</td>
+    <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_40lower">40</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td class="tdl">Touch Not</td>
+    <td class="tdli">&nbsp;</td>
+    <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_61lower">61</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td class="tdl">Two Mornings</td>
+    <td class="tdli">Mary N. Prescott</td>
+    <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_267lower">267</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td class="tdl">Under the Pear Trees</td>
+    <td class="tdli">&nbsp;</td>
+    <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_349">349</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td class="tdl">Up and Doing</td>
+    <td class="tdli">&nbsp;</td>
+    <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_182lower">182</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td class="tdl">Vacation</td>
+    <td class="tdli">Beverly Moore</td>
+    <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_232">232</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td class="tdl">War and Peace</td>
+    <td class="tdli">&nbsp;</td>
+    <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_126lower">126</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td class="tdl">Way to Walk</td>
+    <td class="tdli">M. R. W.</td>
+    <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_337lower">337</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td class="tdl">We should hear the Angels singing</td>
+    <td class="tdli">Kate Cameron</td>
+    <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_91lower">91</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td class="tdl">What so Sweet</td>
+    <td class="tdli">Mary N. Prescott</td>
+    <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_344">344</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td class="tdl">What the Clock says</td>
+    <td class="tdli">&nbsp;</td>
+    <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_149lower">149</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td class="tdl">Why</td>
+    <td class="tdli">&nbsp;</td>
+    <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_24">24</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td class="tdl">Willie&rsquo;s Prayer</td>
+    <td class="tdli">&nbsp;</td>
+    <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_158">159</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td class="tdl">World, The</td>
+    <td class="tdli">Lilliput Lectures</td>
+    <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_185lower">185</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td class="tdl">Worship of Nature</td>
+    <td class="tdli">&nbsp;</td>
+    <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_361lower">361</a></td>
+  </tr>
+</table>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_9" id="Page_9">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>9]</a></span></p>
+
+<h1 class="padtop">HAPPY DAYS.</h1>
+
+
+<div class="figcenter ipadboth" style="width: 500px;">
+<img src="images/hd008.jpg" width="500" height="482"
+alt="Settlers run from the native inhabitants" />
+</div>
+
+<h2>THE ORCHARD&rsquo;S GRANDMOTHER.</h2>
+
+
+<p><span class="dropcap">I</span> MUST ask you to go back more than
+two hundred years, and watch two
+people in a quiet old English garden.</p>
+
+<p>One is an old lady reading. In her
+young days she was a famous beauty.
+That was very long ago, to be sure; but
+I think she is a beauty still&mdash;do not
+you?</p>
+
+<p>She has such a lovely face, and her eyes
+are so sweet and bright! and better than
+that, they are the kind which see pleasant
+things in everybody, and something to
+like and be interested in. I hope with all
+my heart yours are that kind, too.</p>
+
+<p>The other person is a little child. She
+was christened Mary Brenton, like her
+grandmother; but she was called Polly
+all her days, for short; and we will call
+her so.</p>
+
+<p>She is sitting on the grass with a little
+cat in her arms, which she is trying
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_10" id="Page_10">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>10]</a></span>
+to put to sleep. But the kitten is not so
+accommodating as a doll would be, and
+just as Polly does not dare to move for
+fear of waking her, she makes up her
+mind that a run after a leaf and a play
+with any chance caterpillar which may be
+so unlucky as to cross her path, will be
+very preferable, and tries to get away.</p>
+
+<p>It is one of the most delightful days
+that ever was. September, and almost
+too warm, if it were not for the breeze
+that brings cooler air from the sea.
+Once in a while some fruit falls from the
+heavily-laden trees, and the first dead
+leaves rustle a little on the ground. The
+bees are busy, making the most of the
+bright day; for they know of the stormy
+weather coming. The sky is very blue,
+and the flowers very bright. Two swallows
+are playing hide-and-seek through
+the orchard, and chasing each other in
+great races, now so close to the ground
+that it seems as if their feet might catch
+in the green grass, and now away up in
+the air over the high walls out towards
+the hills; and just as one loses sight of
+them, and turns away, here they are
+again. And in the kitchen the girls are
+clattering the dishes and laughing; and
+do you hear some one singing a doleful
+tune in a cheery, happy voice?</p>
+
+<p>That is Dorothy, Polly&rsquo;s dear Dorothy,
+who waits upon grandmother, with whom
+she has been to France, and Holland, and
+Scotland, and who can tell almost as
+charming stories as grandmother herself.</p>
+
+<p>The house is large and old, with queer-shaped
+windows, all sizes and all heights
+from the ground, and a great many of them
+hidden by the ivy. That is the outside;
+and if you were to go in, you would find
+large, low rooms, filled with furniture that
+you would think queer and uncomfortable.
+And there are portraits in some of them,
+one of Polly, probably painted not very
+long before, in which she is attired after
+the fashion of those days, and looks nearly
+as old as she would now if she were living!</p>
+
+<p>Now let us go back to the garden. The
+kitten has escaped, and Polly is wishing
+for something to do.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Where&rsquo;s Dolly?&rdquo; says grandmother.
+&ldquo;Find her, and then gather some apples
+and plums, and have a tea drinking.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>The doll had been very ill all day; it
+was strange in grandmother to forget it.
+She had fallen asleep just before dinner,
+and been put carefully in her bed; it
+would never do to wake her so soon.
+And besides, a tea party was not amusing
+when there was no one to sit at the
+other end of the table. This referred to
+Tom, Polly&rsquo;s dearest cousin, who had
+just left her after a long visit; and she
+missed him sadly.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;And,&rdquo; says Polly, &ldquo;I do not think I
+should care for it if he were here, if I could
+have nothing but apples. I&rsquo;m tired of
+them. I have eaten one of every kind in
+the garden to-day, even the great yellow
+ones by the lower gate. I think they&rsquo;re
+disagreeable; but I left them till the very
+last, and then I was afraid they would feel
+sorry to be left out. I think I will eat
+another, though; and I will not have a
+party&mdash;it&rsquo;s a trouble. Which kind would
+you take, grandmother?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;One of the very smallest,&rdquo; says the
+old lady, laughing; &ldquo;but stop a moment.
+I have one I&rsquo;ll give you;&rdquo; and she took
+a beauty from her pocket, and threw it on
+the grass by Polly.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;That&rsquo;s the very prettiest apple I ever
+saw,&rdquo; says the child. &ldquo;Where did you
+get it? Not off our trees. &lsquo;Father gave
+it to you?&rsquo; and where did he find it?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Grandmother did not know.</p>
+
+<div class="figcenter ipadtop" style="width: 404px;">
+<img src="images/hd009.jpg" width="404" height="600"
+alt="Polly raking her garden" />
+</div>
+
+<p class="caption">LITTLE POLLY.</p>
+
+<p>After admiring her apple a little more,
+Polly eats it in a most deliberate manner,
+enjoying every bite as if it were the first
+she had eaten that day, and when she has
+finished it, gives a contented little sigh,
+and sits looking at the fine brown seeds
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_11" id="Page_11"><!-- Illustration - LITTLE POLLY --></a></span>
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_12" id="Page_12">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>12]</a></span>
+which she holds in her hand. Presently
+she says, earnestly,&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Grandmother!&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;What now, Polly?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I wish I had that dear little apple&rsquo;s
+two brothers and two sisters, and I would
+put them in the doll&rsquo;s chest until to-morrow;
+I wouldn&rsquo;t eat them to-day, you
+know.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I will tell you what you can do,&rdquo; says
+grandmother. &ldquo;Are those seeds in your
+hand? Go find Dorothy, and ask her to
+give you the empty flower-pot from the
+high shelf at my window; and then you
+can fill it with dark earth from one of the
+flower-beds, and plant them; then by and
+by you will have a tree, and can have
+plenty of your apple&rsquo;s children.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>That was a happy thought. And Polly
+puts the seeds carefully on a leaf, and
+runs to find Dorothy. Now she comes
+back with a queer little Dutch china
+flower-pot, and sits down on the grass
+again, and makes a hole in the soft brown
+earth with her finger, and drops the fine
+seeds in.</p>
+
+<p>For days she watered them, and carried
+them to sunny places; but at last she
+grew very impatient, and one morning,
+when she was all alone in the garden,
+very much provoked that they had not
+made their appearance, took a twig and
+explored; and the first poke brought to
+light the little seeds, as shiny and brown
+as when they left the apple. It was a
+great disappointment, and Polly caught
+them up, and threw them as far away as
+she could, and with tears in her eyes ran
+in to tell grandmother.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Ah,&rdquo; said the dear old lady, &ldquo;it was
+not time! Thou hast not learned thy
+lesson of waiting; and no wonder, when
+there are few so hard, and thou art still
+so young.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Then she sent Polly back to the garden,
+and the pot was put in its place,
+again. And a week or two after, as
+grandmother was just going to make room in
+the earth for a new plant, she saw growing
+there a little green sprig, which was
+not a weed. She listened a moment, and
+heard the child&rsquo;s voice outside.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Polly, my dear, are you sure you
+scattered all the seeds of your pretty apple
+the day you were so provoked at their
+not having begun to grow for you?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>The child reddened a little, and turned
+away.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I don&rsquo;t know, grandmother. I think
+so; I wished to then.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>How delighted she was when the old
+lady showed her the treasure, and how
+carefully it was watched and tended!
+For one little seed had been buried deeper
+than the rest, and now in the sunshine of
+grandmother&rsquo;s wide window it had come
+up. Every pleasant day it was placed
+somewhere in the sun, and at night it
+was always carried to Polly&rsquo;s own room.
+Her dolls and other old play-house friends,
+formerly much honored, and of great consequence,
+were quite neglected for &ldquo;the
+apple tree,&rdquo; as she always called the tiny
+thing with its few bits of leaves.</p>
+
+<p>And now we must leave the Brentons&rsquo;
+old stone house and the garden. All this
+happened in the days of King Charles I.,
+when there was a great war, and the
+country in a highly discordant state.
+Polly&rsquo;s father was on the king&rsquo;s side, and
+one day he did something which was considered
+particularly unpardonable by his
+enemies, and at night he came riding from
+Oxford in the greatest hurry he had ever
+been in; and riding after him were some
+of Cromwell&rsquo;s men. It was bright moonlight,
+and as he rode in the paved yard
+the great dogs in their kennels began to
+bark, and that waked Polly&rsquo;s mother, in
+a terrible fright at hearing her husband&rsquo;s
+voice, and sure something undesirable
+had happened.</p>
+
+<p>Squire Brenton hurried in to tell her,
+in as few words as possible, what he had
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_13" id="Page_13">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>13]</a></span>
+done, and that he was followed, and had
+just time to say good by, and take another
+horse, and rush on to the sea, where
+he hoped to find a fishing-boat, by means
+of which he could escape.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;And you,&rdquo; said he, &ldquo;had better take
+Polly and one of the men, and ride to
+your cousin Matthew&rsquo;s; for in their rage
+at my escape, they may mean to burn my
+house. I little thought a month ago,&mdash;when
+he offered you &lsquo;a safe home,&rsquo; and I
+laughed in his face, and said, &lsquo;Give your
+good wife the same message; for she
+may not find your house so safe as mine
+by and by,&rsquo;&mdash;that you would need to accept
+so soon.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;But I cannot go there now,&rdquo; said
+Mistress Brenton; &ldquo;for cousin Matthew
+is away with the Roundhead army, and
+his wife and sister have gone to the north.
+I&rsquo;ll go with you. Listen: I heard one of
+the maids say to-day that a ship sails to-morrow
+at daybreak from the bay by Dunner&rsquo;s
+with a company of Puritans for Holland,
+on their way to one of the American
+colonies. We will go for a time to our
+friends in Amsterdam, and be quite safe.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Anything was better than staying where
+he was; and Squire Brenton, bidding her
+hurry, went to the stables with his tired
+horse, and waking one of his men whom
+he could trust, told him why he was there,
+and to say, when the men came, that he
+was in Oxford yesterday, when they had a
+letter, and that Mistress Brenton had
+gone north to some friends. He gave
+him some messages for his brother, and
+then, sending him out to a field with the
+horse he had been riding, which would
+certainly have betrayed him, he went back
+to the yard, trying to keep the two fresh
+horses still, while he listened, fearing every
+moment to hear his pursuers coming
+down the road.</p>
+
+<p>Presently out came Mistress Brenton,
+carrying some bundles of clothing, and a
+few little things besides, and wrapped in
+a great riding cloak; and at her side
+walked Polly, very sleepy, and looking
+wonderingly in the faces of the others,
+and asking all manner of childish questions.</p>
+
+<p>Suddenly she ran back to the house,
+just as her father was going to lift her on
+his horse; and when she came back,
+what do you think she had? Together
+in a little bag were her doll and kitten,
+and one arm held tightly her little apple
+tree, wrapped in some garment of her own
+which she had found lying near it.</p>
+
+<p>And then they rode away. The poor
+child, after begging them to go to her
+uncle&rsquo;s, so she might say good by to
+grandmother, fell asleep, holding fast her
+treasures all the while.</p>
+
+<p>There was a faint glimmer of light over
+the sea as they neared the shore, and they
+saw anchored at a little distance a small
+ship, and could see the men moving about
+her deck; for the wind had risen. Mr.
+Brenton found a man whom he knew, in
+whose charge he left the horses, and then
+a fisherman rowed them to the vessel.</p>
+
+<p>The captain was nowhere to be seen,
+and the sailors paid no attention to them
+as they came on deck in the chilly
+morning twilight; and they went immediately
+below, and hid themselves in a
+dark corner, thinking they might have to
+go ashore if discovered, and that it was
+best to keep out of sight until it was too
+late to turn back. In the darkness they
+fell asleep. This may seem very strange;
+but remembering the long ride, and the
+fright they had been in, and that now they
+felt safe, we can hardly wonder. At any
+rate, it was the middle of the afternoon
+before Colonel Brenton&mdash;I think I have
+never given him his title before&mdash;made
+his appearance on deck, to the great astonishment
+of the captain and all the
+other people, who knew him more or less.
+He told the captain what had happened,
+saying at the end he would pay him double
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_14" id="Page_14">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>14]</a></span>
+the usual passage money to Holland,
+where he meant to stay for a while; and
+at this the rough man really turned pale.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Holland, <em>Holland</em>!&rdquo; said he; &ldquo;do
+you not see we&rsquo;re going down the Channel?
+We are bound direct for America.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>The story says that Colonel Brenton
+was almost beside himself, and offered
+large sums of money to be taken back, or
+to France; but the captain would not
+consent, saying that they had made good
+progress, and it was late in the year. The
+ship would come back in the spring, and
+he must content himself.</p>
+
+<p>Those of the ship&rsquo;s company who knew
+our friends had great wonderings at their
+having turned Puritans, until they knew
+the true state of affairs. Must not it have
+been dreadful news to Mistress Brenton,
+and was it not really a dreary prospect&mdash;a
+dreary journey in that frail ship, and at
+the end a cold, forlorn country? and all
+the stories of the Indians&rsquo; cruelties to
+the settlers came to her mind. They
+could not, in all probability, return for
+many months. No one whom she cared
+particularly for would be there to welcome
+them. Polly did not take it very much to
+heart, though she cried a little because
+she was not to go to Holland, which she
+had heard so much of from her grandmother
+and Dorothy. It was a great
+many days before they gave up their hope
+of falling in with some vessel to which
+they might be transferred; and the first
+two weeks were sunshiny and pleasant,
+with a good wind. But soon it grew
+bleaker and colder, and they suffered
+greatly. All through the pleasant days,
+Polly had been having a very enjoyable
+time. There were several children on
+board, and they had games around the
+deck and in the cabin.</p>
+
+<p>It was delightful to have the kitten,
+who had a cord tied around her neck;
+and when she was not in Polly&rsquo;s arms, she
+was generally anchored for safety in the
+cabin. Every day she had part of her
+little mistress&rsquo;s dinner; and though she
+missed the garden, and the dead leaves
+that nestled about the walks, and made
+such nice playthings, and the sedate old
+family cat, her mother, and her mother&rsquo;s
+numerous poor relations who lived in the
+stables, she was by no means unhappy.
+And the doll&rsquo;s expression was as complacent
+as ever, though she had worn one
+gown an astonishing length of time. But if
+you could have seen the care the little tree
+received! It was carefully wrapped in
+the same little cloak Polly put round it
+the night they left home, and only on the
+warmest days it was taken on deck to
+have the sunshine; and every day it had
+part of Polly&rsquo;s small allowance of water;
+and when the kitten had had its share,
+there would often be very little left.</p>
+
+<p>The weary days went slowly by. The
+ship was slow at the best, and the winds
+were contrary. The provisions grew less
+and less, and the water was almost exhausted.
+Two people&mdash;a man, and a
+child Polly had grown very fond of&mdash;died,
+and were buried in the sea. The sky was
+cold and gray, and it snowed and rained,
+and every one looked sad and disheartened.
+It was terribly desolate. Polly
+could not often go on deck, for the frozen
+spray and rain made it very slippery and
+dangerous there; and her mother told
+story after story, and did her best to
+shorten the longest December days she
+had ever known. And soon there came
+a terrible bereavement. One night there
+was a great storm, and the dearly-beloved
+kitten, frightened to death by the things
+rolling about, and the pitching of the
+ship, broke the cord and rushed out in
+the darkness, and never was seen any
+more. I think a little cat has never been
+so mourned since the world began. That
+night, the Dutch flower-pot, with its leafless
+twig, went rolling about the cabin
+floor, and half the earth was scattered in
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_15" id="Page_15">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>15]</a></span>
+the folds of its wrappings, and carefully
+replaced next morning.</p>
+
+<p>But at last the voyage was ended; they
+saw land, and finally came close to it and
+went ashore, Polly with her dear doll and
+something else rolled up in a little gray
+cloak. The ship was to stay until spring;
+and there seemed no hope of getting back
+to England until then. It was hard to decide
+what to do; but at last Colonel Brenton
+heard of some men whom he had
+known, who had been made prisoners in
+some of the battles in the north of England
+and sent to the Massachusetts colony by
+Cromwell, who had feared to imprison
+them. They had been sent to the settlement
+in York.</p>
+
+<p>So the Brentons joined a party going
+there, or to places beyond. It was the
+last of January that they came to York,
+and were warmly welcomed at the great
+garrison, where they lived till spring.
+Polly found a very nice child to play with.
+There had been a good harvest, and the Indians
+were uncommonly peaceable. They
+had great log fires in the wide fireplace in
+the east room; and for a winter in those
+times, it was very comfortable. The flower-pot
+was deposited in a chink of the great
+chimney. Polly had insisted upon bringing
+it with her; and though &ldquo;the tree&rdquo;
+at that time was a slender little straight
+stick, she had firm faith that spring time
+would give it leaves again. And strange
+to say, she was not disappointed; for all
+the exposure had not destroyed it. The
+first of June came, and they were still
+living in the garrison-house, looking every
+day for a messenger to tell them the
+ship was ready to go back. Some people
+on their way to one of the eastern settlements,
+early in April, had told them there
+were no signs of her sailing; and since
+then they had heard nothing. How dismayed
+they were, early in June, to find
+the ship had sailed nearly two months
+before! It seemed as if everything was
+against them; and they could live no longer
+in the garrison. So the Brentons had
+a little log house near by, and &ldquo;the squire&rdquo;
+worked every day in the great field down
+towards the river. It must have been
+such a strange life for them! and I suppose
+their thoughts often went back to
+the dear English home. When Mistress
+Brenton looked from the small window in
+her log house out over half-cleared fields,
+and saw the garrison-house, and her husband
+working among the hills of corn
+with his gun close by, every now and then
+looking anxiously about him, she would
+remember the wide window, with its cushioned
+seat, in her own room at home, and
+the sunny garden, with the flowers and
+bees, and the maids and men singing and
+chattering in the distance, and the dear
+voice of grandmother singing the old
+church hymns. It was a great change;
+but days much more forlorn than these
+were yet to come.</p>
+
+<p>The Indians came around the settlement
+in large numbers, and no one dared
+to be out alone. At night the people
+waked in fear at the slightest noise; and
+in the daytime it was after the same fashion.
+News came of whole settlements
+having been murdered or made captives,
+and some of their own neighbors disappeared
+finally; and then the suspense
+was terrible. At last, one day Mrs. Brenton
+had gone up to the garrison to see
+one of the women, who was ill, and most
+of the men were in the field. Polly went
+with her mother; but the women were
+talking over something about the king
+and Parliament, which she found very uninteresting,
+and soon she unfastened the
+great outer door, and unwisely ran out
+with her doll in her arms, and went down
+to the field to see the men at work. But
+on her way, she bethought herself of a
+charming stump she had seen out at one
+side of the path, and went to visit it.
+None of the men happened to see her.
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_16" id="Page_16">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>16]</a></span>
+She talked to the doll, and made a throne
+for her of the soft moss growing around
+her, and had been playing there some
+time, when suddenly she heard shouts,
+and thought they must be killing a snake,
+and looked up to see all the men running
+up the hill to the garrison, with a great
+many Indians chasing them; and she
+heard a gun fired, and saw one of the
+men who had petted and been very kind
+to her, and told her stories, fall to the
+ground. Ah, how frightened she was!</p>
+
+<p>The doll was snatched from her throne,
+and the poor little girl ran towards the
+garrison, too, right towards the Indians.
+It was weary work running over the
+rough ground,&mdash;and the tall grass was
+not much better,&mdash;and then on, up the hill.
+By this time the men had succeeded in
+getting in; and the wicked-looking Indians,
+after a yell of disappointment,
+turned to go back to the one who lay dead
+on the hill-side, and to escape the bullets
+which would come in a moment from the
+loopholes. O, if she could only get by
+them!</p>
+
+<p>Up the hill she hurried as fast as the
+poor tired little feet could carry her, hugging
+the doll, almost breathless, with the
+great tears falling very fast, and still crying,
+&ldquo;Wait, father!&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>I am glad I know one kind thing the
+Indians of those days did. As they
+turned, they saw her coming, and some
+hurried forward a little to seize her; and
+it would have been so easy. But one
+spoke, and they all stopped, and laughed,
+and shouted, and the child got safely in.</p>
+
+<p>Then the Indians went to the Brentons&rsquo;
+house, and some others, and burned them;
+but luckily the apple tree was at the play-house,
+by a large rock, at a little distance,
+and the wind was not in that direction;
+and after they disappeared, it was brought
+up to the fort, safe and sound.</p>
+
+<p>It soon grew tall and strong, and in a
+little while was entirely too large for its
+pot; and finally Polly was forced to put it
+in the ground. It was hard to do it; for
+she had cared for it, and loved it so long,
+and this was giving it up, in a measure.
+And I think if she had understood that
+now it must be left behind, it would have
+been almost impossible to have persuaded
+her. Her father comforted her by telling
+her he could get quantities of the apples
+not very far from home, and she could
+plant more seeds as soon as she liked, or,
+far better than that, he would graft a tree.</p>
+
+<p>In September, news came that a ship
+was going to the east coast of England;
+and they were all heartily glad, in spite
+of the long, dangerous voyage; and leaving
+the York friends, who had been so
+kind, and whom they would probably
+never see any more, Polly gave the little
+tree to a Masterson child, her great friend,
+who promised to wrap it in straw for winter,
+and to be very kind to it and fond of
+it. And I think she must have been faithful
+to her charge. Mistress Brenton laid
+some of the leaves in the little book she
+had had in her pocket that night, almost
+a year ago, when they left home. So they
+went to Boston, and sailed for the old
+country.</p>
+
+<p>I know nothing more of them; but we
+will hope their voyage was a short and
+easy one, and that they reached home on
+a pleasant, sunny day, and grandmother
+was there, and Dorothy, and all the people,
+and Polly had stories to tell as wonderful
+as Dorothy&rsquo;s, and all true, and that
+they were all happy forever after.</p>
+
+<p>A while ago I stood on the hill with an
+old farmer, eating one of a pocketful of
+apples he had given me, and said how
+very nice it was, and that I had never
+seen any like it.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;There are none of my apples sell half
+so well,&rdquo; said he. &ldquo;I&rsquo;ve forty young
+trees that have been bearing a few years;
+and over to the right you see some old
+ones. Mine were grafted from those
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_17" id="Page_17">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>17]</a></span>
+and my father took his grafts from an old
+tree I&rsquo;d like to show you;&rdquo; and as we
+walked towards it, he said, &ldquo;It looks, and
+I guess it is, as old as any around here.
+My father always said it was brought from
+England in a flower-pot by some of the
+first settlers. Perhaps you have heard
+the story. It&rsquo;s very shaky. The high
+winds last fall were pretty hard on it. It
+will never bear again, I am afraid. I set
+a good deal by the old thing. The very
+first thing I can remember is my father&rsquo;s
+lifting me up to one of the lower limbs,
+and I was frightened and cried. I believe
+I think more of that tree than of anything
+on my farm. My wife always laughs
+at me about it. Well, it has lasted my
+time. I&rsquo;m old and shaky, too; and I
+suppose my sons won&rsquo;t miss this much,
+and will like the young orchard best.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;And you and I like your orchard&rsquo;s
+grandmother,&rdquo; said I.</p>
+
+<p class="sig">S. O. J.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+
+<h2><a name="Page_17lower" id="Page_17lower"></a>ROUGH.</h2>
+
+
+<p><span class="dropcap">H</span>E was a donkey, and we called him
+Rough. He belonged to Gerald
+and me. We didn&rsquo;t keep him for his
+useful qualities, and we certainly didn&rsquo;t
+keep him for his moral qualities; and I
+don&rsquo;t know what we did keep him for,
+unless, for the best reason in the world,
+that we loved him.</p>
+
+<p>He was always getting us into scrapes,
+the most renowned of which was one
+Rough&rsquo;s enemies were fond of alluding to.</p>
+
+<p>We were bidden to a christening one
+fair spring morning; and we not only accepted
+the invitation, but promised to
+bring apple-blossoms, to fill the font and
+make the church look gay. We had an
+old apple orchard, that bore beautiful
+blossoms, but worthless fruit; and of
+these blossoms we had leave to pick as
+many as we chose.</p>
+
+<p>So we filled the donkey-cart with them,
+and set forth for the christening, which
+was to be at a little church about a mile
+or more distant from our farm. Rough&rsquo;s
+enemies will tell how we arrived when
+the christening was all over, and our apple
+blossoms faded.</p>
+
+<p>We were never so happy as when we
+had a whole leisure afternoon to go off
+with Rough in the donkey-cart, and our
+little sister Daisy by Gerald&rsquo;s side, on the
+board that served as seat, and I lying
+on my back on the bottom of the cart,
+with my heels dangling out of it. So I
+would lie for hours, whistling and looking
+up at the drifting clouds, or with my hat
+over my eyes to keep out the sun.</p>
+
+<p>One afternoon, early in March, when
+the roads were almost knee deep in mud,
+and the last of the melting snow made a
+running stream on either side of the road,
+we were slowly travelling along after the
+manner I have described. We were going
+to take a longing look at the skating
+pond, two miles from our farm. We were
+forbidden to try the dangerous ice, but
+meant only to look upon the scene of our
+winter&rsquo;s delight.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Some one&rsquo;s in the pond!&rdquo; cried
+Daisy.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;How do ye know?&rdquo; said I, not removing
+my hat from my face.</p>
+
+<p>You see Daisy was only six years old,
+and I hadn&rsquo;t much faith in her observation.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Cos I sees &rsquo;em with my own eyes.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>I jumped up and looked. It was only
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_18" id="Page_18">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>18]</a></span>
+a hat I saw. Gerald meanwhile said
+nothing, but had pulled up Rough (who
+not only stopped, but lay down in the
+mud), and looked. I watched him, to see
+what he thought, or proposed to do.</p>
+
+<div class="figcenter ipadboth" style="width: 450px;">
+<img src="images/hd010.jpg" width="450" height="376"
+alt="A child collecting flowers together" />
+</div>
+
+<p>People had a way of trusting to Gerald&rsquo;s
+judgment rather than their own, and were
+generally better off for it.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;It <em>is</em> some one in the pond,&rdquo; said
+Gerald; and then followed a short discussion
+as to whether we should leave Daisy
+alone to the mercies of Rough, which
+resulted in our leaving Rough, and taking
+Daisy along with us down to the pond.</p>
+
+<p>We could see a boy, apparently about
+Gerald&rsquo;s age, swimming and striving to
+keep up, and catching at the ice, which
+broke as he clung to it. He swam feebly,
+as if benumbed and wearied.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Keep a brave heart!&rdquo; roared Gerald;
+&ldquo;we&rsquo;ll save you!&rdquo; and then began to take
+off his boots and coat. The boy sank&mdash;under
+the ice, this time. We could see
+it bobbing up and down as he swam beneath
+it.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Stay here till I call you,&rdquo; said Gerald
+to me, as he stepped from the shore on to
+the ice, and walked out towards where
+the swimmer was hidden by the ice. I
+stood breathless, with my eye on Gerald.</p>
+
+<p>The ice began to crack under him. He
+lay down on his stomach, and pulled himself
+forward with his hands. Up came
+the swimmer not far from him.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Keep up! Gerald will save you!&rdquo;
+cried Daisy.</p>
+
+<p>The poor fellow cast one despairing
+look at Gerald, and sank again. Gerald
+had gone as far as was practicable on the
+ice. I could hear it cracking all over,
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_19" id="Page_19">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>19]</a></span>
+and see the white cracks darting suddenly
+over ice that had looked safe.</p>
+
+<p>Up came the boy again.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Keep up! keep up!&rdquo; cried Daisy, in
+an excited treble. &ldquo;Gerald will save
+you!&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>But the boy could hear nothing. He
+had his eyes closed, and seemed to have
+fainted. Gerald reached out, and clutched
+him by the arm. How the ice cracked all
+about him! My heart was in my mouth;
+I thought he was in. I began to take my
+coat off.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;A scarf!&rdquo; said Gerald, speaking for
+the first time.</p>
+
+<p>I took off my own, and picked up Gerald&rsquo;s
+from the ground, and tied them firmly
+together. I saw that they were too short.
+Daisy offered hers. I took it, with an inward
+fear, if the child should catch cold;
+it seemed paltry to think of it at such a
+moment. I stepped out on the ice, and
+went a few steps, when Gerald cried,&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Stop!&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>I obeyed like a soldier.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Throw it now!&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>I threw the long string of scarfs. Gerald
+dexterously caught it, and upholding
+the poor boy with one hand, with the other
+passed the string under his arms, and tied
+the ends of it to his own arm. Then he
+paused a moment before attempting the
+hazardous work of coming ashore, and
+looked at me speculatively. I knew what
+he meant. There was a shadow of trouble
+in his face that had nothing to do with his
+own danger. He was weighing the possibility
+of his falling in, and my doing the
+same in trying to save him, and Daisy
+alone on the shore. I gave a cheering
+&ldquo;Go ahead, old fellow!&rdquo; and he began to
+push himself back again, dragging his
+senseless burden after him by the scarf
+tied to his arm.</p>
+
+<p>Crack! crack! crack! went the ice all
+about him, and little tides of water flooded
+it. At last it seemed a little firmer. Gerald
+rose to his feet, and dragging the boy still
+in the water after him, began to walk
+slowly towards the shore, not seeming to
+notice how the sharp edges of the ice
+cut the face and forehead of the poor
+half-drowned boy.</p>
+
+<p>Again the ice began to crack and undulate.
+Gerald stood still for a moment,
+and the piece on which he stood broke
+away from the rest, and began to float
+out. He jumped to the next, which broke,
+and so to the next, and the next, till he
+neared the shore. Then he paused a
+moment, and looked at me.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Go ashore!&rdquo; he roared like a sea
+captain.</p>
+
+<p>Then I noticed that I stood on a detached
+piece of ice, but nearer land than
+Gerald. I found no difficulty in gaining
+the shore.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Now stand firm and give a hand!&rdquo;
+said Gerald.</p>
+
+<p>I grasped his hand, and he jumped
+ashore, and together we lifted the boy
+out of the water. Daisy burst into tears,
+crying,&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;O, Gerald, Gerald, I thought you&rsquo;d
+be drowned!&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Gerald very gently put her clinging
+arms away from him, saying, firmly,&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Don&rsquo;t cry, Daisy. We have our
+hands full with this poor fellow.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>I got the skates off the &ldquo;poor fellow,&rdquo;
+and gave them to Daisy to hold. She,
+brave little woman, gulped down her
+tears, and only gave vent to her emotion,
+now and then, by a little suppressed sob.
+Gerald began beating the hands and
+breathing into the mouth and nostrils of
+the seeming lifeless form before us.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Is he dead, Gery?&rdquo; said I.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;No!&rdquo; said Gerald, fiercely. It was
+evident that he wouldn&rsquo;t believe he had
+gone through so much trouble to bring
+a dead man ashore. &ldquo;Look for his
+handkerchief, and see if there&rsquo;s a mark
+on it.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_20" id="Page_20">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>20]</a></span>
+I fished a wet rag out of the wet trousers
+pocket, and found in one corner of it
+the name &ldquo;Stevens.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;There&rsquo;s a farmer of that name two miles
+farther on. I don&rsquo;t know any one else of
+that name. Must be his son. We&rsquo;ll take
+him home;&rdquo; and he began wrapping his
+coat about the poor boy; but I insisted
+on mine being used for the purpose, as
+Gerald was half wet, and his teeth were
+already chattering. &ldquo;We must get him
+off this wet ground as soon as possible,&rdquo;
+said Gerald; and together we lifted him,
+and slowly and laboriously bore him to
+the donkey-cart in the road.</p>
+
+<p>By this time Gerald had only strength
+enough to hold the reins, and we set out
+forthwith for the Stevens farm, I, with
+what help Daisy could give, trying to
+bring some show of life back to the stranger.
+Perhaps the jolting of the cart
+helped,&mdash;I don&rsquo;t know,&mdash;but by and by
+he began to revive, and at last we propped
+him up in one corner of the cart, with his
+head supported by Daisy&rsquo;s knee.</p>
+
+<p>I shall not soon forget how long the
+road seemed, and how I got out and
+walked in deep mud, and how, when poor
+Rough seemed straining every muscle to
+make the little cart move at all, Gerald
+insisted on getting out, too, and leading
+Rough; how the sun set as we were wading
+through a long road, where willow
+trees grew thick on either side, and Daisy
+said, &ldquo;See; all the little pussies are out!&rdquo;
+how, at last, we reached the Stevens farm,
+and restored the half-drowned boy to his
+parents. I remember, too, how they were
+so utterly absorbed, very naturally, in the
+welfare of their boy, as to forget all about
+us, and offer us no quicker means of return
+home than our donkey-cart.</p>
+
+<p>They came to call on us the next day,
+and to thank us, and specially Gerald,
+with tears of gratitude. And Gerald was
+a hero in the village from that day forth.</p>
+
+<p>I remember well how dark it grew as
+we waded slowly and silently home, and
+how poor little Rough did his very best,
+and never stopped once.</p>
+
+<p>I think he understood the importance
+of the occasion; but those who were not
+Rough&rsquo;s friends, believe it was a recollection,
+and expectation of supper, that made
+him acquit himself so honorably.</p>
+
+<p>As we neared our home, we saw a tall
+figure looming up in the dark, and soon,
+by the voice, we knew it was Michael,
+one of the farm hands, sent to seek us.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Bluder an nouns,&rdquo; he exclaimed, &ldquo;it
+is you, Mister Gery! An&rsquo; yer muther,
+poor leddy, destroyed wid the fright. An&rsquo;
+kapin&rsquo; the chilt out to this hair. Hadn&rsquo;t
+ye moor sense?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>We explained briefly; and Daisy begged
+to be carried, as the cart was all wet.</p>
+
+<p>With many Irish expressions of sympathy,
+Michael took the child in his arms;
+and so we arrived at home, and found
+father and mother half distracted with
+anxiety, and the farm hands sent in all
+directions to look for us. We were at
+once, all three of us, put to bed, and made
+to drink hot lemonade, and have hot
+stones at our feet, and not till then tell
+all our experiences, which were listened
+to eagerly.</p>
+
+<p>Daisy escaped unhurt, I with a slight
+cold, but Gerald and poor little Rough
+were the ones who suffered. Gerald had
+a severe attack of pneumonia, from which
+we had much ado to bring him back to
+health, and Rough was ill. They brought
+us the news from the stable on the next
+morning. We couldn&rsquo;t tell what was the
+matter; perhaps he had strained himself,
+perhaps had caught cold. We could not
+tell, nor could the veterinary surgeon we
+brought to see him. Poor Rough lay ill
+for weeks, and one bright spring morning
+he died.</p>
+
+<p>They told us early in the morning, before
+we were out of bed, how, an hour ago,
+Rough had died.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_21" id="Page_21">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>21]</a></span></p>
+
+<div class="figcenter ipadtop" style="width: 418px;">
+<img src="images/hd011.jpg" width="418" height="600"
+alt="A boy covers his ears while a girl plays the piano" />
+</div>
+
+<p class="caption">THE MUSIC LESSON.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_22" id="Page_22">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>22]</a></span></p>
+
+<h2>THE MUSIC LESSON.</h2>
+
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p class="cap">TOUCH the keys <em>lightly</em>,<br />
+<span class="i3">Nellie, my dear:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The noise makes Johnnie<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Impatient, I fear.<br /></span></p>
+</div>
+
+<div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">He looks very cross,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">I am sorry to see&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Not looking at all<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">As a brother should be.<br /></span>
+</div>
+
+<div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Whatever you&rsquo;re doing,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Bear this always in mind:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">In all <em>little things</em><br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Be both <em>thoughtful</em> and <em>kind</em>.<br /></span>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+
+<h2><a name="Page_22lower" id="Page_22lower"></a>THE FROST.</h2>
+
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p class="cap">THE frost looked forth one still clear night,<br />
+<span class="i3">And whispered, &ldquo;Now I shall be out of sight;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">So through the valley and over the height<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">In silence I&rsquo;ll take my way:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">I will not go on like that blustering train,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The wind and the snow, the hail and the rain,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Who make so much bustle and noise in vain,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">But I&rsquo;ll be as busy as they.&rdquo;<br /></span></p>
+</div>
+
+<div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Then he flew to the mountain, and powdered its crest;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">He lit on the trees, and their boughs he dressed<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">In diamond beads; and over the breast<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Of the quivering lake he spread<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">A coat of mail, that it need not fear<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The downward point of many a spear<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">That he hung on its margin, far and near,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Where a rock could rear its head.<br /></span>
+</div>
+
+<div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">He went to the windows of those who slept,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And over each pane like a fairy crept:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Wherever he breathed, wherever he stept,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">By the light of the moon were seen<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Most beautiful things: there were flowers and trees;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">There were bevies of birds and swarms of bees;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">There were cities with temples and towers, and these<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">All pictured in silver sheen!<br /></span>
+</div>
+
+<div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">But he did one thing that was hardly fair:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">He peeped in the cupboard, and finding there<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">That all had forgotten for him to prepare&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">&ldquo;Now, just to set them a-thinking,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">I&rsquo;ll bite this basket of fruit,&rdquo; said he,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">&ldquo;This costly pitcher I&rsquo;ll burst in three,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And the glass of water they&rsquo;ve left for me<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Shall &lsquo;tchick!&rsquo; to tell them I&rsquo;m drinking.&rdquo;<br /></span>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_23" id="Page_23">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>23]</a></span></p>
+
+<div class="figcenter ipadboth" style="width: 578px;">
+<img src="images/hd012.jpg" width="578" height="450"
+alt="A woman and two children with a calf" />
+</div>
+
+
+<h2>MY PICTURE.</h2>
+
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p class="cap">I HAVE a little picture;<br />
+<span class="i2">Perchance you have one too.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Mine is not set in frame of gold;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">&rsquo;Tis first a bit of blue,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And then a background of dark hills&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">A river just below,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Along whose broad, green meadow banks<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">The wreathing elm trees grow.<br /></span></p>
+</div>
+
+<div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Upon an overhanging ridge<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">A little farm-house stands,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Whose owner, like the man of old,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Has builded &ldquo;on the sands;&rdquo;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And yet, defying storms and wind,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">It stands there all alone,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And brightens up the landscape<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">With a beauty of its own.<br /></span>
+</div>
+
+<div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Fairy-like my picture changes<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">As the seasons come and go.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Now it glows &rsquo;neath summer&rsquo;s kisses;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Now it sleeps &rsquo;mid winter&rsquo;s snow.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">I can see the breath of spring-time<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">In the river&rsquo;s deeper blue,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And autumn seems to crown it<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">With her very brightest hue.<br /></span>
+</div>
+
+<div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Ah. I&rsquo;d not exchange my picture<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">For the choicest gem of art;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Yet I must not claim it wholly;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">It is only mine in part;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">For &rsquo;tis one of nature&rsquo;s sketches&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">A waif from that Great Hand<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Which hath filled our earth with models<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Of the beautiful and grand.<br /></span>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_24" id="Page_24">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>24]</a></span></p>
+
+<h2>WHY?</h2>
+
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p class="cap">WHY are the blossoms<br />
+<span class="i4">Such different hues?<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And the waves of the sea<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Such a number of blues?<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">So many soft greens<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Flit over the trees?<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And little gray shadows<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Fly out on the breeze?<br /></span></p>
+</div>
+
+<div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Why are the insects<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">So wondrously fair;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Illumining grasses<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And painting the air?<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">You dear little shells,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">O, why do you shine?<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And feathery sea-weed<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Grow fragile and fine?<br /></span>
+</div>
+
+<div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Why are the meadows<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Such gardens of grace,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">With infinite beauty<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">In definite space?<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Each separate grass<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">A world of delight?<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">O, food for the cattle,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Why are you so bright?<br /></span>
+</div>
+
+<div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Why are our faces<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Such lovable things,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">With lips made for kisses,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And laughter that sings?<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">With eyes full of love,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">That sparkle and gleam,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Through beautiful colors,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">That change like a dream?<br /></span>
+</div>
+
+<div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Think for a moment&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Look up to the sky;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Question your heart; it<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Will answer the Why!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Bright is the glitter<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Of beauty unfurled&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Boundless the love that<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Has fashioned the world!<br /></span>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_25" id="Page_25">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>25]</a></span></p>
+
+<h2>BIRDS.</h2>
+
+
+<p><span class="dropcap">T</span>HE wisdom of God is seen in every
+part of creation, and especially in
+the different kinds of birds. The beauty
+displayed in their graceful forms and varied
+colors strikes every beholder, while
+the adaptation of their organs for the
+purposes of flight, their peculiar habits
+and modes of living, are a constant
+source of admiration to the student of
+nature.</p>
+
+<p>Almost everything about the shape of
+a bird fits it for moving rapidly in the air,
+and all parts of its body are arranged so
+as to give it lightness along with strength.
+The soft and delicate plumage of birds
+protects them from cold or moisture;
+their wings, though so delicate, are furnished
+with muscles of such power as to
+strike the air with great force, whilst
+their tails act like the rudder of a ship,
+so that they can direct their course at
+pleasure with the utmost ease.</p>
+
+<p>The internal structure of a bird also is
+such as to help it to sustain itself in, and
+to fly quickly through, the air. Its lungs
+are pierced with large holes, which allow
+air to pass into cavities in the breast, and
+even into the interior of the bones. It is
+thus not only rendered buoyant, but is
+enabled to breathe even while in rapid
+motion. Two sparrows, it is said, require
+as much air to maintain their breathing
+properly as a guinea pig.</p>
+
+<p>In many other ways the skill and goodness
+of God are seen in the &ldquo;fowl of the
+air.&rdquo; Their necks and beaks are long,
+and very movable, so that they may readily
+pick up food and other objects from
+the ground. The muscles of their toes
+are so arranged that the simple weight of
+the body closes them, and they are able,
+in consequence, to sit on a perch a long
+time without fatigue. Even in a violent
+wind a bird easily retains its hold of the
+branch or twig on which it is sitting.
+Their bills are of almost all forms: in
+some kinds they are straight; in others
+curved, sometimes upwards and sometimes
+downwards; in others they are
+flat; in some they are in the form of a
+cone, wedge-shaped, or hooked. The
+bill enables a bird to take hold of its
+food, to strip or divide it. It is useful
+also in carrying materials for its nest, or
+food to its young; and in the birds of
+prey, such as the owl, the hawk, the falcon,
+eagle, etc., the beak is a formidable
+weapon of attack.</p>
+
+<p>The nostrils of birds are usually of an
+oval form, and are placed near the base
+of the beak. Their eyes are so constructed
+that they can see near and distant
+objects equally well, and their sight
+is very acute. The sparrow-hawk discerns
+the small birds which are its prey
+at an incredible distance. No tribe of
+birds possesses an outward ear, except
+those which seek their food by night;
+these have one in the form of a thin,
+leathery piece of flesh. The inside ear,
+however, is very large, and their hearing
+is very quick.</p>
+
+<div class="figcenter ipadtop" style="width: 426px;">
+<img src="images/hd013.jpg" width="426" height="600"
+alt="A white-crowned sparrow next to a nest containing two eggs" />
+</div>
+
+<p class="caption">BIRD&rsquo;S NEST.</p>
+
+<p>Another admirable feature in the structure
+of birds consists in their feathers.
+These are well adapted for security,
+warmth, and freedom of motion. The
+larger feathers of the body are placed
+over each other like the slates on the
+roof of a house, so that water is permitted
+to run off, and cold is kept out. The
+down, which is placed under the feathers,
+is a further protection against the cold;
+and hence it is most abundant in those
+species that are found in northern climates.
+The feathery covering of birds
+forms their peculiar beauty: on this, in
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_26" id="Page_26"><!-- Illustration - BIRD'S NEST --></a></span>
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_27" id="Page_27">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>27]</a></span>
+the warm climates, Nature bestows her
+most delicate and brightest colors.</p>
+
+<div class="figcenter ipadboth" style="width: 410px;">
+<img src="images/hd014.jpg" width="410" height="450"
+alt="An apteryx, or kiwi" />
+</div>
+
+<p>Another point which sets forth the resources
+of Infinite Wisdom is the structure
+and uses of the wings of birds. The
+size of the wings is not always in proportion
+to the bulk of their bodies, but is
+accommodated to their habits of living.
+Accordingly, birds of prey, swallows, and
+such birds as are intended to hover long
+in the air, have much longer wings, in
+proportion to their size, than hens, ducks,
+quails, etc. In some, such as the ostrich,
+the cassiowary, and the penguin, the largest
+quill-feathers of the wing are entirely
+wanting.</p>
+
+<p>Then, again, how varied is the flight
+of birds! The falcon soars above the
+clouds, and remains in the air for many
+hours without any sign of exertion. The
+swallow, the lark, and other species, sail
+long distances with little effort. Others,
+like the sparrow and the humming-bird,
+have a fluttering flight. Some, as the
+owl, fly without any noise; and some,
+like the partridge, with a loud whir.</p>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<span class="i9">&ldquo;Around the head<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Of wandering swain the white-winged plover wheels<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Her sounding flight, and then directly on<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">In long excursion skims the level lawn,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To tempt him from her nest.&rdquo;<br /></span>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<p>How graceful are the motions of the
+hawk, sweeping higher and higher in circles,
+as he surveys far and wide the expanse
+of fields and meadows below, in
+which he hopes to espy his prey. Our
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_28" id="Page_28">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>28]</a></span>
+paper would be too long were we to say
+even a little about the roosting, the swimming,
+or running, the migration, the habits
+and instincts, the varied notes and
+pleasant songs, of the endless species of
+birds.</p>
+
+<p>All these subjects are well worthy
+of being carefully studied; for they all
+show the design of their Creator. The
+extraordinary creature represented in the
+engraving is the &ldquo;Apteryx,&rdquo; or &ldquo;wingless
+bird&rdquo; of New Zealand. It was not known
+to European naturalists till of late years,
+and for a long time the accounts which
+the natives of New Zealand gave of it
+were discredited. A specimen of it, preserved
+in brine, was, however, brought to
+this country, and a full description of the
+bird given.</p>
+
+<p>The kirvi-kirvi, as the New Zealanders
+call it, stands about two feet high. Its
+wings are so small that they can scarcely
+be called wings, and are not easy to find
+under the general plumage of the body.
+Its nostrils, strange to say, are at the tip
+of the beak. The toes are strong, and
+well adapted for digging, the hind one
+being a thick, horny spur. To add to the
+singularity of this creature, it has no tail
+whatever. The kirvi-kirvi conceals itself
+among the extensive beds of fern which
+abound in the middle island of New Zealand,
+and it makes a nest of fern for its
+eggs in deep holes, which it hollows out
+of the ground. It feeds on insects, and
+particularly worms, which it disturbs by
+stamping on the ground, and seizes the
+instant they make their appearance.
+Night is the season when it is most active;
+and the natives hunt it by torchlight.
+When pursued, it elevates its
+head, like an ostrich, and runs with great
+swiftness. It defends itself, when overtaken,
+with much spirit, inflicting dangerous
+blows with its strong spur-armed
+feet.</p>
+
+<p>In this instance, as in all others, God
+has wisely adapted the very shape and
+limbs of the creature to the habits by
+which it was intended to be distinguished.</p>
+
+<p class="sig">F. F. E.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+
+<h2><a name="Page_28lower" id="Page_28lower"></a>KINDNESS REWARDED.</h2>
+
+
+<p><span class="dropcap">W</span>HEN Agrippa was in a private
+station, he was accused, by one
+of his servants, of having spoken injuriously
+of Tiberius, and was condemned
+by that emperor to be exposed in chains
+before the palace gate. The weather was
+very hot, and Agrippa became excessively
+thirsty. Seeing Thaumastus, a servant
+of Caligula, pass by him with a pitcher
+of water, he called to him, and entreated
+leave to drink. The servant presented the
+pitcher with much courtesy; and Agrippa,
+having allayed his thirst, said to him,&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Assure thyself, Thaumastus, that if
+I get out of this captivity, I will one
+day pay thee well for this draught of
+water.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Tiberius dying, his successor, Caligula,
+soon after not only set Agrippa at liberty,
+but made him king of Judea. In this
+high situation Agrippa was not unmindful
+of the glass of water given to him
+when a captive.</p>
+
+<p>He immediately sent for Thaumastus,
+and made him controller of his household.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_29" id="Page_29">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>29]</a></span></p>
+
+<div class="figcenter ipadboth" style="width: 450px;">
+<img src="images/hd015.jpg" width="450" height="314"
+alt="People gathering hay" />
+</div>
+
+<h2>A DREAM OF SUMMER.</h2>
+
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p class="cap">WEST wind and sunshine<br />
+<span class="i4">Braided together,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">What is the one sign<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">But pleasant weather?<br /></span></p>
+</div>
+
+<div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Birds in the cherry-trees,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Bees in the clover;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Who half so gay as these<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">All the world over?<br /></span>
+</div>
+
+<div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Violets among the grass,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Roses regretting<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">How soon the summer &rsquo;ll pass,&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Next year forgetting.<br /></span>
+</div>
+
+<div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Buds sighing in their sleep,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">&ldquo;Summer, pray grant us<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Youth, that its bloom will keep<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Fragrance to haunt us!&rdquo;<br /></span>
+</div>
+
+<div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Rivulets that shine and sing,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Sunbeams abetting,&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">No more remembering<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Their frozen fretting.<br /></span>
+</div>
+
+<div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Sweet music in the wind,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Sun in the showers;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">All these we&rsquo;re sure to find<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">In summer hours.<br /></span>
+</div>
+
+<p class="poet smcap">Mary N. Prescott.</p>
+</div>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_30" id="Page_30">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>30]</a></span></p>
+
+<div class="figcenter ipadtop" style="width: 600px;">
+<img src="images/hd016.jpg" width="600" height="400"
+alt="Children sitting under a tree with posies of flowers" />
+</div>
+
+<p class="caption">SUMMER FLOWERS.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_31" id="Page_31">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>31]</a></span></p>
+
+<h2>EVERY CLOUD HAS A SILVER LINING.</h2>
+
+
+<p><span class="dropcap">P</span>LEASE, Mr. Mate has <em>that</em> cloud
+a silver lining?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>The question was asked by little Kate
+Vale, the daughter of an emigrant, who,
+with her mother, was following her father,
+who had gone before to New York.
+Katie was a quiet, gentle little child, who
+gave trouble to no one. She had borne
+the suffering of seasickness at the beginning
+of the voyage so patiently, and now
+took the rough sea-fare so thankfully, that
+she had made a fast friend of Tom Bolton,
+the mate. Bolton had a warm, kindly
+heart, and one of the children whom
+he had left in England was just the age
+of Katie; this inclined him all the more
+to show her kindness. Katie often had a
+piece of Bolton&rsquo;s sea-biscuit; he told her
+tales which he called &ldquo;long yarns,&rdquo; and
+sometimes in rough weather he would
+wrap his thick jacket around her, to keep
+the chill from her thinly-clad form. Katie
+was not at all afraid of Bolton, or &ldquo;Mr.
+Mate,&rdquo; as she called him, and she took
+hold of his hard brown hand as she asked
+the question,&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Has that cloud a silver lining?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Bolton glanced up at a very black, lowering
+cloud, which seemed to blot the sun
+quite out of that part of the sky.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Why do you ask me, Kate?&rdquo; said the
+sailor.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Because mother often says that every
+cloud has a silver lining, and that one
+looks as if it had none.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Tom Bolton gave a short laugh.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;None that we can see,&rdquo; he replied;
+&ldquo;for the cloud is right atween us and the
+sun. If we could look at the upper part,
+where the bright beams fall, we should
+see yon black cloud like a great mass of
+silvery mother-o&rsquo;-pearl, just like those
+that you yesterday called shining mountains
+of snow.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Katie turned round, and raising her
+eyes, watched for some minutes the
+gloomy cloud. It was slowly moving
+towards the west, and as it did so, the
+sun behind it began to edge all its dark
+outline with brightness.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;See, see!&rdquo; exclaimed Katie; &ldquo;it is
+turning out the edge of its silver lining.
+If I were up there in the sky, I suppose
+that all would look beautiful then. But I
+don&rsquo;t know why mother should take comfort
+from talking of the clouds and their
+linings.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>The mother, Mrs. Vale, who was standing
+near, leaning against the bulwarks,
+heard the last words of her child, and
+made reply,&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Because we have many clouds of sorrow
+here to darken our lives, and our
+hearts would often fail us but for the
+thought, &lsquo;There is a bright side to every
+trial sent to the humble believer.&rsquo;&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>And Mrs. Vale repeated the beautiful
+lines,&mdash;</p>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">&ldquo;Yon clouds, a mass of sable shade<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">To mortals gazing from below,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">By angels from above surveyed,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">With universal brightness glow.&rdquo;<br /></span>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<p>Katie did not quite understand the
+verse, but she knew how patiently and
+meekly her mother had borne sudden
+poverty, the sale of her goods, and the
+bitter parting from her beloved husband.
+Bolton also had been struck by the pious
+courage of one who had had a large share
+of earthly trials.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;<em>Your</em> clouds at least seem to be edged
+with silver,&rdquo; he observed, with a smile;
+and as he spoke, the glorious beams of
+the sun burst from behind the black mass
+of cloud, making widening streams of
+light up the sky, which, as Katie remarked,
+looked like paths up to heaven.</p>
+
+<p>The vessel arrived at New York, after
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_32" id="Page_32">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>32]</a></span>
+rather a rough voyage, and Mrs. Vale, to
+her great delight, found her husband
+ready at the port to receive her. He
+brought her good tidings also. A fortnight
+before her landing he had procured
+a good situation, and he was now able to
+take her and their child to a comfortable
+home. Past sorrows now seemed to be
+almost forgotten.</p>
+
+<div class="figcenter ipadboth" style="width: 450px;">
+<img src="images/hd017.jpg" width="450" height="334"
+alt="Katie and Bolton on the deck of the ship" />
+</div>
+
+<p>Bolton, who, during a trying voyage,
+had shown much kindness to Mrs. Vale
+as well as to Katie, was invited during his
+stay at New York to make their house
+his home. He had much business to do
+as long as he remained in the great city,
+so saw little of the Vales except in the
+evenings, when he shared their cheerful
+supper, and then knelt down with them
+at family prayers. The mate learned
+much of the peace and happiness which
+piety brings while he dwelt under the
+emigrant&rsquo;s roof.</p>
+
+<p>But ere long the day arrived when Bolton&rsquo;s
+vessel, the Albion, was to start for
+England. She was to weigh anchor at
+one o&rsquo;clock, and at midday the mate bade
+good by to his emigrant friends.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;A pleasant journey to you, and a
+speedy return; we&rsquo;ll be glad to see you
+back here,&rdquo; said Henry Vale, as he shook
+the mate by the hand.</p>
+
+<p>Bolton&rsquo;s journey was to be much shorter,
+and his return much more speedy than
+he wished, or his friends expected. He
+was hastening down to the pier to join his
+vessel, when he saw hanging up in a shop
+window a curious basket, made of some
+of the various nuts of the country prettily
+strung together.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;That&rsquo;s just the thing to take my Mary&rsquo;s
+fancy,&rdquo; said the mate to himself.
+&ldquo;I&rsquo;ve a present for every one at home
+but for her; it won&rsquo;t take two minutes to
+buy that basket.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Great events often hang upon very
+small hooks. If Bolton had not turned
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_33" id="Page_33">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>33]</a></span>
+back to buy the basket, he would not have
+been passing a house on which masons
+were working at the very moment when
+a ladder, carelessly placed against it, happened
+to fall with a crash. The ladder
+struck Bolton, and he fell on the pavement
+so much stunned by the shock, that
+he had to be carried in a senseless state
+into the shop of an apothecary.</p>
+
+<p>Happily no bones were broken, but it
+was nearly an hour before the mate recovered
+the use of his senses. He then
+opened his eyes, raised his head, and
+stared wildly around him, as if wondering
+to find himself in a strange place,
+and trying to think how he came to be
+there. Bolton pressed his aching forehead,
+seeking to recall to his memory
+what had happened, for he felt like one in
+a dream. Soon his glance fell on the
+clock in the apothecary&rsquo;s shop, and at the
+same instant the clock struck <em>one</em>! Bolton
+started to his feet, as if the chime of
+the little bell had been the roar of a cannon.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;The Albion sails at one!&rdquo; cried the
+mate; and without so much as stopping
+to look for his oilskin cap, with bandaged
+brow and bareheaded, Bolton rushed forth
+into the street, and, dizzy as he felt, staggered
+on towards the pier from which the
+vessel was to sail.</p>
+
+<p>It was not to be expected that the
+sailor&rsquo;s course should be a very straight
+one, or that with all his haste he should
+manage to make good speed. The streets
+of New York seemed to be more full of
+traffic than usual, and twice the mate
+narrowly escaped being knocked down
+again by some vehicle rapidly driven
+along the road. At last, breathless and
+faint, and scarcely able to keep his feet,
+poor Bolton arrived at the wharf to
+which his ship had been moored but an
+hour before. But the Albion was there
+no longer&mdash;the vessel had started without
+the mate&mdash;he could see her white
+sails in the distance; she was already
+on her way back to Old England, and she
+had left him behind!</p>
+
+<p>This was a greater shock to poor Bolton
+than the blow from the falling ladder
+had been. He stood for several minutes
+gazing after the ship with a look of despair,
+then slowly the sailor returned to
+the house of the Vales.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Nothing more unlucky could possibly
+have happened,&rdquo; muttered the mate to
+himself. &ldquo;Here&rsquo;s a pretty scrape that I
+shall get into with my employers; the
+mate of their vessel absent just at the
+time when he ought to have been at his
+post! Then I&rsquo;ve nothing with me&mdash;nothing,
+save the clothes that I stand in!
+All my luggage is now on the waves, and
+a precious long time it will be before I
+shall see it again. But I don&rsquo;t care so
+much for the luggage; what I can&rsquo;t bear
+to think of is my wife and my children
+looking out eagerly for the arrival of the
+good ship Albion, and then, when she
+reaches port, finding that no Tom Bolton
+is in her! I wish that that stupid
+basket had been at the bottom of the sea
+before ever I set eyes on it!&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Pale, haggard, and looking&mdash;as he
+was&mdash;greatly troubled, Bolton entered
+the house of the Vales, which he so
+lately had quitted. The family were just
+finishing their dinner; and not a little
+astonished were they to see one whom
+they had believed to be on the wide sea.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Here I am again, like a bad half-penny,&rdquo;
+said the sailor; and sitting down
+wearily on a chair which Katie placed for
+him directly, Bolton gave a short account
+of what he called the most unlucky mischance
+that had ever happened to him in
+the course of his life.</p>
+
+<p>The Vales felt much for his trouble,
+and begged him to remain with them
+until he could get a passage in some
+other vessel bound for England.</p>
+
+<div class="figcenter ipadtop" style="width: 388px;">
+<img src="images/hd018.jpg" width="388" height="600" alt="" />
+</div>
+
+<p class="caption">THE MAN AT THE WHEEL.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;And don&rsquo;t take your accident so much
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_34" id="Page_34"><!-- Illustration - THE MAN AT THE WHEEL --></a></span>
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_35" id="Page_35">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>35]</a></span>
+to heart,&rdquo; softly whispered little Katie;
+&ldquo;you know mother&rsquo;s favorite proverb&mdash;&lsquo;Every
+cloud has a silver lining.&rsquo;&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Sometimes, even in this life, we can
+see the silver edge round the border,&rdquo;
+observed Mrs. Vale.</p>
+
+<p>Bolton had too brave a heart and too
+sensible a mind to give way long to fretting,
+though he did not see how so black
+a cloud as that which hung over his sky
+could possibly have anything to brighten
+its gloom. He tried to make the best of
+that which he could not prevent, and retired
+to rest that night with a tolerably
+cheerful face, though with a violent headache,
+and a heartache which troubled him
+more.</p>
+
+<p>Bolton slept very little that night, nor
+indeed did any one else in the house; for
+with the close of day there came on a violent
+storm which raged fiercely until the
+morning. Katie trembled in her little cot
+to hear how the gale roared and shrieked
+in the chimneys, and rattled the window-frames,
+and threatened to burst open the
+doors. The child raised her head from
+the pillow, and thanked the Lord that her
+sailor friend was not tossing then on the
+waves.</p>
+
+<p>But far more thankful was Katie when
+tidings reached New York of what the
+storm had done on that terrible night.
+Bolton was sitting at breakfast with his
+friends on the third day after the tempest,
+when Vale, who was reading the
+newspaper, turned to the part headed
+&ldquo;Shipping Intelligence.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Any news?&rdquo; inquired Tom Bolton,
+struck by the expression on the face of
+his friend.</p>
+
+<p>Instead of replying, Vale exclaimed,
+&ldquo;How little we can tell in this life what
+is really for our evil or our good! You
+called that accident which prevented your
+sailing in the Albion an &lsquo;unlucky mischance.&rsquo;&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Of course I did. My wife and children
+are impatient to see me&mdash;&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Had you sailed in that ship,&rdquo; interrupted
+Vale, &ldquo;they would never have
+seen you again. The Albion went down
+in that storm!&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>What was the regret of Tom Bolton on
+hearing of the disaster, and what was his
+thankfulness for his own preservation, I
+leave the reader to guess. Often in after
+days did the little American basket remind
+him in his own home of what others
+might have called the chance that led him
+to turn back on his way to the ship, and
+so caused the accident which vexed him
+so much at the time.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+
+<h2><a name="Page_35lower" id="Page_35lower"></a>GOOD-HUMOR.</h2>
+
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p class="cap">I AM a first-rate fairy&mdash;<br />
+<span class="i2">&ldquo;Good-Humor&rdquo; is my name;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">I use my wand where&rsquo;er I go,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And make the rough ways plain;<br /></span></p>
+</div>
+
+<div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">And make the ugly faces shine,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">The shrillest voices sweet,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The coarsest ore a golden mine,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">The poorest lives complete.<br /></span>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_36" id="Page_36">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>36]</a></span></p>
+
+<div class="figcenter ipadboth" style="width: 400px;">
+<img src="images/hd019.jpg" width="400" height="398"
+alt="A boy sits reading in an armchair" />
+</div>
+
+<h2>BOOKS AND READING.</h2>
+
+
+<p><span class="dropcap">I</span> REALLY am in doubt whether or not
+the young folks ought to be congratulated
+in consequence of the great number
+of juvenile books which are being
+placed before them about this time. An
+excellent book is certainly excellent company;
+but there is a limit to all things;
+and so we may have too many books, taking
+it for granted that all are good ones.</p>
+
+<p>You all know, that, as a general rule,
+people in America read too much, and
+think too little. Reading is a benefit to
+us only when it leads to reflection. It is
+useless when it leaves no lasting impression
+on the mind; it is <em>worse</em> than useless
+if the lesson it conveys be not a really
+good one.</p>
+
+<p>Suppose you sit down to a well-furnished
+table at a hotel to eat your dinner.
+The waiter hands you a bill of fare, upon
+which is printed a long list of good and
+wholesome dishes, and then quietly waits
+until you order what you wish. You are
+not expected to eat of every one, however
+attractive they may be, but rather to
+select what you like best,&mdash;enough to
+make a modest meal,&mdash;and let that suffice.</p>
+
+<p>But the selection is not all. If you
+expect to gain health and strength by
+your dinner, you must eat it in a proper
+manner; that is, slowly. Otherwise nature&rsquo;s
+work will be imperfectly done, and
+your food become a source of bodily
+harm, instead of a benefit.</p>
+
+<p>Now, it is precisely so with the food of
+the mind, which comes to you through
+books. You are not expected to read
+everything which comes within your
+reach. You should rather select the
+best, and, having done so, read them
+slowly and carefully. You may read too
+much as well as eat too much; and while
+the one will injure your body, the other
+will as certainly harm your mind.</p>
+
+<p>One of the worst evils which too much
+reading leads to is a habit of <em>reading to
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_37" id="Page_37">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>37]</a></span>
+forget</em>. You know what a bad habit is,
+how it clings to us, when once contracted,
+and how hard it is to be shaken off.
+Some boys and girls read a book entirely
+through in a single evening, and the next
+day are eagerly at work on another, to be as
+quickly mastered. No mind, however
+strong, can stand such a strain. You see
+at once that it would be absolutely impossible
+for them to remember what they
+read. And so they read for a momentary
+enjoyment, and gradually fall into
+the habit I have spoken of&mdash;reading to
+forget. I need not tell you that such a
+habit is fatal to any very high position in
+life.</p>
+
+<p>How often we hear parents boast that
+their children are &ldquo;great readers,&rdquo; just
+as if their intelligence should, in their
+opinion, be measured by the number of
+books and papers which they had read!
+Need I say, that, on the contrary, they
+are objects of pity?</p>
+
+<p>But how much may we read with profit?
+That is a question not always easy to answer.
+Some can read a great deal more
+than others. Yet, if young people read
+slowly, and think a great deal about the
+subject, there is very little danger of their
+reading too much, provided they select
+only good books; because good books
+are very scarce&mdash;much more so in proportion
+to the number printed than they
+were twenty years ago; and there are
+very few young persons who have too
+great a supply of good works placed
+within their reach.</p>
+
+<p>I have mentioned one evil which results
+from too much reading, and will
+only briefly allude to another equally important.
+Children who attend school
+have no time to devote to worthless
+books. Their studies consume many
+hours. If, aside from the time which
+should be devoted to play, to their meals,
+and the various duties of home, they will
+read a useless book every day or two,
+their health is sure to suffer. The evil
+consequences may not be at once apparent,
+but in later years the penalty will
+certainly have to be paid. This reflection
+alone, if there were no other reason,
+should induce the young to discard all
+useless books, and read only such as shall
+have a tendency to make them wiser and
+better.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+
+<h2><a name="Page_37lower" id="Page_37lower"></a>THE CORAL-WORKERS.</h2>
+
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p class="cap">THE little coral-workers,<br />
+<span class="i3">By their slow but constant motion,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Have built those pretty islands<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">In the distant dark-blue ocean;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And the noblest undertakings<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Man&rsquo;s wisdom hath conceived<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">By oft-repeated efforts<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Have been patiently achieved.<br /></span></p>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_38" id="Page_38">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>38]</a></span></p>
+
+<div class="figcenter ipadboth" style="width: 450px;">
+<img src="images/hd020.jpg" width="450" height="446"
+alt="Lion carries a baby's basket down some stairs" />
+</div>
+
+<h2>LION THE FIRE DOG.</h2>
+
+
+<p><span class="dropcap">L</span>ION, who was a cross between a
+Great St. Bernard and a Newfoundland
+dog, came into the possession of the
+superintendent of the London fire brigade
+when he was but twelve months old. His
+first retreat was in the engine-house, where,
+on some old hose and sacking, he made
+himself as comfortable as he could, and
+coiled himself up, like the tubing on which
+he lay. Considering that he was thus
+placed in charge of the engine-house, he
+resented the first occasion on which a fire
+occurred at night. The fire bell rang,
+and the firemen crowded to the spot, prepared
+to draw forth the engine, when a
+decided opposition was made on the part
+of Lion, who showed a determination to
+fasten himself on the first fireman who
+dared to enter the house. In this way
+the faithful dog kept them all at bay until
+the arrival of his master, whom he instantly
+recognized and obeyed. As soon
+as the horses were harnessed, and the
+engine was in motion, Lion bounded along
+in company, and was present at his first
+fire. After that time, he attended no less
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_39" id="Page_39">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>39]</a></span>
+than three hundred and thirty-two fires,
+and not only attended, but assisted at
+them, always useful, and sometimes doing
+work and saving life, which, but for him,
+would have been lost.</p>
+
+<p>His chief friends, the firemen, say it
+would take a long while to tell all his acts
+of daring and sagacity; but we must, in
+justice to his memory, record some of the
+most notable.</p>
+
+<p>Whenever the fire bell rang, Lion was
+immediately on the alert, barking loudly,
+as if to spread the dire alarm. Then, as
+soon as his master had taken his place on
+the engine, and before the horses were off,
+he led the way, clearing the road and
+warning every one of the approach of the
+engine, and spreading the news of the fire
+by his loud voice.</p>
+
+<p>On one occasion, when the horses were
+tearing along the streets as fire engine
+horses alone can, a little child was seen
+just in front of the engine. To stop the
+horses in time was impossible, though the
+driver did his best. The brave hearts of the
+firemen sank within them as they felt they
+must drive over the little body. Bystanders
+raised their arms and shrieked as they
+witnessed an impending catastrophe which
+they could do nothing to avert. No human
+help could avail, and it must needs
+be that the engine of mercy, on its way to
+save life, must sacrifice the life of an innocent,
+helpless child!</p>
+
+<p>But stay! Human eyes were not the
+only ones that took in that sad scene, and
+that saw the impending doom of the little
+one. Brave, sagacious, and fleet, Lion
+saw at a glance the danger that threatened
+the child, and springing forward, he
+knocked him down; then seizing him
+firmly in his jaws, he made for the pavement
+obliquely, and gently deposited his
+charge in the gutter just as the engine
+went tearing by.</p>
+
+<p>But this was only an incident by the
+way; Lion&rsquo;s real work began when the
+scene of the fire was reached. As soon
+as the door was opened, or dashing
+through the window if there was a delay
+in opening the door, the noble animal
+would run all over the burning house,
+barking, so as to arouse the inmates if
+they were unaware of the danger; and
+never would he leave the fire until he had
+either aroused them or had drawn the attention
+of the firemen to them.</p>
+
+<p>Once the firemen could not account for
+his conduct. Darting into the burning
+house,&mdash;the ceilings of which had given
+way,&mdash;and then out again to the firemen,
+he howled and yelled most loudly. It was
+believed that no one was in the house, but
+Lion&rsquo;s conduct made his master feel uneasy.</p>
+
+<p>Still nothing could be done by way
+of entering the house, as the fire was raging
+fiercely, and the house would soon
+fall in. Finding that his entreaties were
+not regarded, and suffering from burns
+and injuries, the noble animal discontinued
+his efforts, but ran uneasily round
+the engine, howling in a piteous manner;
+nor would he leave the spot after the fire
+was put out until search was made, when
+beneath the still smouldering embers, the
+firemen discovered the charred body of
+an old man, whom he had done his utmost
+to save.</p>
+
+<p>Lion&rsquo;s noble efforts, however, were often
+crowned with success; and many a
+one has to bless the wondrous qualities
+with which God had endowed him.</p>
+
+<p>At one fire, after the inmates had made
+their escape, a cry was raised that &ldquo;the
+baby had been left behind in the cradle
+up stairs,&rdquo; though no one seemed to be
+able to indicate the room. The fire had
+so far got hold of the dwelling, such dense
+volumes of flame and smoke were issuing
+from every opening, that it was impossible
+for any fireman to enter, and the crowd
+stood horror-stricken at the thought of
+the perishing babe.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_40" id="Page_40">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>40]</a></span>
+The crisis was a terrible one; an effort
+was made, an entry was effected, and some
+of the men ventured some distance within
+the burning pile, only to retrace their
+steps.</p>
+
+<p>At this emergency, Lion dashed past
+the men, disappeared amid the flames,
+but returned in a minute into the street
+with the empty cradle in his powerful
+jaws. The consequence of this almost
+incredible feat&mdash;which was witnessed by
+many&mdash;may be better imagined than described.</p>
+
+<p>The fact that Lion did not re-enter
+the house&mdash;which, though badly burned,
+he would doubtless have done had he
+left the child behind&mdash;was sufficient
+to convince the dullest intellect that
+the child was secure; and it was very
+soon ascertained that the object of search
+was safe in a neighboring house.</p>
+
+<p>No wonder, then, that this noble animal
+endeared himself to all who knew him;
+and those who knew him best loved him
+the most. For fourteen years Lion continued
+his noble and useful career as public
+benefactor, as friend and companion
+to the firemen, and as mourner at their
+graves; for he attended the funerals of
+no less than eleven of them.</p>
+
+<p>Death came to him at length; for last
+year he died from injuries received in the
+discharge of his self-imposed duties.</p>
+
+<p>There are few of our readers who would
+not have liked to pat that brave old dog;
+there are fewer still who may not learn
+useful and valuable lessons from the
+speaking testimony of that dumb animal.</p>
+
+<p class="sig smcap">Benjamin Clarke.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+
+<h2><a name="Page_40lower" id="Page_40lower"></a>TO THE CARDINAL FLOWER.</h2>
+
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p class="cap">O, MY princely flower, shall I never win<br />
+<span class="i4">To your moated citadel within,<br /></span>
+<span class="i8">To your guarded thought?<br /></span></p>
+</div>
+
+<div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">The pansies are proud; but they show to me<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Their purple velvets from over the sea,<br /></span>
+<span class="i8">With gold inwrought.<br /></span>
+</div>
+
+<div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">And they gently smile wherever we meet;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">They seem to me like proud ladies sweet<br /></span>
+<span class="i8">From a foreign shore.<br /></span>
+</div>
+
+<div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Wild primrose buds in my very hand<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Their odorous evening stars expand,<br /></span>
+<span class="i8">And all their lore.<br /></span>
+</div>
+
+<div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">But your strange eyes gleam as they pass me by,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And seem to dream of a warmer sky,<br /></span>
+<span class="i8">Far over the sea.<br /></span>
+</div>
+
+<p class="poet">M. R. W.</p>
+</div>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_41" id="Page_41">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>41]</a></span></p>
+
+<div class="figcenter ipadboth" style="width: 497px;">
+<img src="images/hd021.jpg" width="497" height="400"
+alt="A woman, an elderly man and two children watch butterflies in a garden" />
+</div>
+
+<h2>THE SONG OF THE ROSE.</h2>
+
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p class="cap">I COME not when the earth is brown, and gray<br />
+<span class="i2">The skies; I am no flower of a day,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">No crocus I, to bloom and pass away;<br /></span></p>
+</div>
+
+<div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">No cowslip bright, or hyacinth that clings<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Close to the earth, from whence it springs;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Nor tulip, gay as song birds&rsquo; wings.<br /></span>
+</div>
+
+<div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">I am the royal rose, and all things fair<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Grow fairer for my sake; the earth, the air,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Proclaim the coming of the flower most rare.<br /></span>
+</div>
+
+<div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Green is the earth, and beautiful the sky,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And soft the breeze, that loves to linger nigh;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">I am the rose, and who with me shall vie?<br /></span>
+</div>
+
+<div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">The earth is full of gladness, all in tune<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">With songs of birds; and now I come, O June,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To crown thee, month of beauty, with my bloom.<br /></span>
+</div>
+
+<p class="poet">T. E. D.</p>
+</div>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_42" id="Page_42">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>42]</a></span></p>
+
+<h2>RICH AND POOR.</h2>
+
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p class="cap">MY dear little girl, with the flowers in your hair,<br />
+<span class="i4">Stop singing a moment, and look over there;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">While you are so safe in the sheltering fold,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">With treasures of silver, and treasures of gold,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Just a few steps away, in a dark, narrow street,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">With no pure, cooling drink, and no morsel to eat,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">A poor girl is dying, no older than you;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Her lips were as red, and her eyes were as blue,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Her step was as light, and her song was as sweet,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And the heart in her bosom as merrily beat.<br /></span></p>
+</div>
+
+<div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">But now she is dying, so lonely and poor,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">For famine and fever crept in at the door.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">While you were so gay, in your beautiful dress,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">With music and laughter, and friends to caress,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">From the dawn to the end of the weariful day,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">She was always at work, with no moment for play.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">She saw you sometimes, but you seemed like a star<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">That gleamed in the distance, so dim and afar.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And often she wondered if God up above<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Remembered the poor girl, in pity and love.<br /></span>
+</div>
+
+<div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Ah, yes, <em>He remembered</em>, &rsquo;mid harpings and hymns,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And loud alleluias, and waving of wings,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">He heard in <em>His</em> heaven the sound of her tears,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And called her away while the sun of her years<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Was yet in the east; now, she never will need<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">From you any more a compassionate deed.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Nay, some time, perhaps, from her home in the skies,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">She will look back to see you with tears in your eyes,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">For sooner or later we quiver with pain,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And down on us all drops the sorrowful rain.<br /></span>
+</div>
+
+<div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">She never will need you; but many bereft,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Hungry, and heart-sore, and homeless are left.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">You can, if you will, from the place where you stand,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Reach downward to help them; the touch of your hand,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The price of one jewel, the gift of a flower,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">May waken within them, with magical power,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">A hope that was dying. O, don&rsquo;t be afraid<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The poor and the desolate spirit to aid.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The burdens are heavy that some one must bear,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">You dear little girl with the flowers in your hair.<br /></span>
+</div>
+
+<p class="poet smcap">Ellen M. H. Gates.</p>
+</div>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_43" id="Page_43">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>43]</a></span></p>
+
+<div class="figcenter ipadtop" style="width: 444px;">
+<img src="images/hd022.jpg" width="444" height="600"
+alt="Two women and a group of children offer food to a girl" />
+</div>
+
+<p class="caption">RICH AND POOR.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_44" id="Page_44">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>44]</a></span></p>
+
+<h2>LACE-MAKING.</h2>
+
+
+<p><span class="dropcap">S</span>EE, mamma what is the woman doing? She looks as if she was holding
+a pin-cushion in her lap and was sticking pins in it.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;So she is, my dear,&rdquo; Ellen&rsquo;s mother remarked. &ldquo;But that is not all she
+is doing. There is a cluster of bobbins hanging down one side of the cushion
+which are wound with threads, and these threads she weaves around the pins
+in such a manner as to make lace.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I never saw anybody make lace that way. I have seen Aunt Maria knit
+it with a crochet-hook.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;This is a different kind of lace altogether from the crocheted lace. They
+do not make it in the United States. The woman whom you see in the picture
+lives in Belgium in Europe. In that country, and in some parts of France
+and Germany, many of the poorer people earn a living at lace-making. The
+pattern which in making the lace it is intended to follow is pricked with a pin
+on a strip of paper. This paper is fastened on the cushion, and then pins are
+stuck in through all the pin-holes, and then the thread from these bobbins is
+woven around the lace.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Can they work fast?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;An accomplished lace-maker will make her hands fly as fast as though she
+were playing the piano, always using the right bobbin, no matter how many
+of them there may be. In making the pattern of a piece of nice lace from
+two hundred to eight hundred bobbins are sometimes used. In such a case it
+takes more than one person&mdash;sometimes as many as seven&mdash;at a single
+cushion.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;It must be hard to do.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I dare say it would be for you or me. Yet in those countries little children
+work at lace-making. Little children, old women and the least skilful
+of the men make the plainer and coarser laces, while experienced women
+make the nicer sorts.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;What do they do with their lace when it is finished?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;All the lace-makers in a neighborhood bring in their laces once a week to
+the &lsquo;mistress&rsquo;&mdash;for women carry on the business of lace-making&mdash;then this
+&lsquo;mistress&rsquo; packs them up and takes them to the nearest market-town, where
+they are peddled about from one trading-house to another until they are all
+sold.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Do they get much for them?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;The poor lace-makers get hardly enough to keep them from starvation for
+their fine and delicate work; but the laces, after they have passed through the
+hands of one trader after another, and are at last offered to the public, bring
+enormous prices. A nice library might be bought for the price of a set of
+laces, or a beautiful house built at the cost of a single flounce.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I think I should rather have the house, mamma.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;So should I. But the people who buy these laces probably have houses
+already. There is over four million dollars&rsquo; worth of lace sold every year in
+Belgium alone.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Ellen thought she should never see a piece of nice lace without thinking of
+these wonderful lace-makers, who produce such delicate work and yet are paid
+so little for it; and while she was thus thinking over the matter, mamma went
+quietly on with her sewing.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_45" id="Page_45">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>45]</a></span></p>
+
+<div class="figcenter ipadtop" style="width: 402px;">
+<img src="images/hd023.jpg" width="402" height="600"
+alt="A girl and a boy watch a woman working at bobbin lace" />
+</div>
+
+<p class="caption">LACE-MAKERS.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_46" id="Page_46">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>46]</a></span></p>
+
+<h2>HELP YOURSELVES.</h2>
+
+
+<p><span class="dropcap">M</span>ANY boys and girls make a failure
+in life because they do not learn to
+help themselves. They depend on father
+and mother even to hang up their hats
+and to find their playthings. When they
+become men and women, they will depend
+on husbands and wives to do the
+same thing. &ldquo;A nail to hang a hat on,&rdquo;
+said an old man of eighty years, &ldquo;is
+worth everything to a boy.&rdquo; He had
+been &ldquo;through the mill,&rdquo; as people say,
+so that he knew. His mother had a nail
+for him when he was a boy&mdash;&ldquo;a nail to
+hang his hat on,&rdquo; and nothing else. It
+was &ldquo;Henry&rsquo;s nail&rdquo; from January to
+January, year in and out, and no other
+member of the family was allowed to
+appropriate it for any purpose whatever.
+If the broom by chance was hung
+thereon, or an apron or coat, it was soon
+removed, because that nail was &ldquo;to hang
+Henry&rsquo;s hat on.&rdquo; And that nail did much
+for Henry; it helped make him what he
+was in manhood&mdash;a careful, systematic,
+orderly man, at home and abroad, on his
+farm and in his house. He never wanted
+another to do what he could do for himself.</p>
+
+<p>Young folks are apt to think that certain
+things, good in themselves, are not
+honorable. To be a blacksmith or a
+bootmaker, to work on a farm or drive a
+team, is beneath their dignity, as compared
+with being a merchant, or practising
+medicine or law. This is <small>PRIDE</small>, an
+enemy to success and happiness. No <em>necessary</em>
+labor is discreditable. It is never
+dishonorable to be <em>useful</em>. It is beneath
+no one&rsquo;s dignity to earn bread by the
+sweat of the brow. When boys who
+have such false notions of dignity become
+men, they are ashamed to help themselves
+as they ought, and for want of this quality
+they live and die unhonored. Trying to
+save their dignity, they lose it.</p>
+
+<p>Here is a fact we have from a very
+successful merchant. When he began
+business for himself, he carried his
+wares from shop to shop. At length
+his business increased to such an extent,
+that he hired a room at the
+Marlboro&rsquo; Hotel, in Boston, during the
+business season, and thither the merchants,
+having been duly notified, would
+repair to make purchases. Among all
+his customers, there was only one man
+who would carry to his store the goods
+which he had purchased. The buyers
+asked to have their goods carried, and
+often this manufacturer would carry
+them himself. But there was one merchant,
+and the largest buyer of the whole
+number, who was not ashamed to be seen
+carrying a case of goods through the
+streets. Sometimes he would purchase
+four cases, and he would say, &ldquo;Now, I
+will take two, and you take two, and we
+will carry them right over to the store.&rdquo;
+So the manufacturer and the merchant
+often went through the streets of Boston
+quite heavily loaded. This merchant, of
+all the number who went to the Marlboro&rsquo;
+Hotel for their purchases, succeeded in
+business. He became a wealthy man
+when all the others failed. The manufacturer,
+who was not ashamed to help
+himself, is now living&mdash;one of the wealthy
+men of Massachusetts, ready to aid, by
+his generous gifts, every good object that
+comes along, and honored by all who
+know him.</p>
+
+<p>You have often heard and read the
+maxim, &ldquo;God helps those who help themselves.&rdquo;
+Is it not true?</p>
+
+<p class="sig smcap">William M. Thayer.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_47" id="Page_47">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>47]</a></span></p>
+
+<h2>THE STORY OF JOHNNY DAWDLE.</h2>
+
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p class="cap">HERE, little folks, listen; I&rsquo;ll tell you a tale,<br />
+<span class="i3">Though to shock and surprise you I fear it won&rsquo;t fail;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Of Master John Dawdle my story must be,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Who, I&rsquo;m sorry to say, is related to me.<br /></span></p>
+</div>
+
+<div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">And yet, after all, he&rsquo;s a nice little fellow:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">His eyes are dark brown and his hair is pale yellow;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And though not very clever or tall, it is true<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">He is better than many, if worse than a few.<br /></span>
+</div>
+
+<div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">But he dawdles at breakfast, he dawdles at tea&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">He&rsquo;s the greatest small dawdle that ever could be;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And when in his bedroom, it is his delight<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To dawdle in dressing at morning and night.<br /></span>
+</div>
+
+<div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">And oh! if you saw him sit over a sum,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">You&rsquo;d much wish to pinch him with finger and thumb;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And then, if you scold him, he looks up so meek;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Dear me! one would think that he hardly could speak.<br /></span>
+</div>
+
+<div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Each morning the same he comes tumbling down,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And often enough is received with a frown,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And a terrible warning of something severe<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Unless on the morrow he sooner appear.<br /></span>
+</div>
+
+<div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">But where does he live? That I&rsquo;d rather not say,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Though, if truth must be told, I have met him to-day;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">I meant just to pass him with merely a bow,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But he stopped and conversed for a minute or so.<br /></span>
+</div>
+
+<div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">&ldquo;Well, where are you going?&rdquo; politely said I;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To which he replied, with a groan and a sigh,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">&ldquo;I&rsquo;ve been doing my Latin from breakfast till dinner,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And pretty hard work that is for a beginner.&rdquo;<br /></span>
+</div>
+
+<div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">&ldquo;But now I suppose you are going to play<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And have pleasure and fun for the rest of the day?&rdquo;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">&ldquo;Indeed, but I&rsquo;m not&mdash;there&rsquo;s that bothering sum;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And then there&rsquo;s a tiresome old copy to come.&rdquo;<br /></span>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_48" id="Page_48">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>48]</a></span></p>
+
+<div class="figcenter ipadtop" style="width: 418px;">
+<img src="images/hd024.jpg" width="418" height="600"
+alt="Johnny rests his head on one hand and stares at a bird on the window ledge" />
+</div>
+
+<p class="caption">JOHNNY DAWDLE.</p>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_49" id="Page_49">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>49]</a></span>
+<span class="i0">&ldquo;Dear me!&rdquo; I replied, and I thought it quite sad<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">There should be such hard work for one poor little lad;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But just at that moment a lady passed by,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And her words soon made clear that mistaken was I:<br /></span>
+</div>
+
+<div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">&ldquo;Now, then, Mr. Dawdle, get out of my way!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">I suppose you intended to stop here all day;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The bell has done ringing, and yet, I declare,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Your hands are not washed, nor yet brushed is your hair.&rdquo;<br /></span>
+</div>
+
+<div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">&ldquo;Ho, ho!&rdquo; I exclaimed; &ldquo;Mr. Dawdle, indeed!&rdquo;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And I took myself off with all possible speed,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Quite distressed that I should for a moment be seen<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">With one who so lazy and careless had been.<br /></span>
+</div>
+
+<div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">So now, if you please, we will wish him good-bye;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And if you should meet him by chance, as did I,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Just bid him good-morning, and say that a friend<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">(Only don&rsquo;t mention names) hopes he soon may amend.<br /></span>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+
+<h2><a name="Page_49lower" id="Page_49lower"></a>THE MOTHERLESS BOY.</h2>
+
+
+<p><span class="dropcap">O</span>NE day, about a year ago, the door of my sitting-room was thrown
+suddenly open, and the confident voice of Harvey thus introduced a
+stranger:</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Here&rsquo;s Jim Peters, mother.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>I looked up, not a little surprised at the sight of a ragged, barefoot child.</p>
+
+<p>Before I had time to say anything, Harvey went on:</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;He lives round in Blake&rsquo;s Court and hasn&rsquo;t any mother. I found him on
+a doorstep feeding birds.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>My eyes rested on the child&rsquo;s face while my boy said this. It was a very
+sad little face, thin and colorless, not bold and vicious, but timid and having
+a look of patient suffering. Harvey held him firmly by the hand with
+the air of one who bravely protects the weak.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;No mother!&rdquo; said I, in tones of pity.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;No, ma&rsquo;am; he hasn&rsquo;t any mother. Have you, Jim?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;No,&rdquo; answered the child.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_50" id="Page_50">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>50]</a></span>
+&ldquo;She&rsquo;s been dead ever so long; hasn&rsquo;t she, Jim?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Yes, ever since last winter,&rdquo; he said as he fixed his eyes, into which I
+saw the tears coming, upon my face. My heart moved toward him, repulsive
+as he was because of his rags and dirt.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;One of God&rsquo;s little lambs straying on the cold and barren hills of life,&rdquo;
+said a voice in my heart. And then I felt a tender compassion for the strange,
+unlovely child.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Where do you live?&rdquo; I asked.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Round in Blake&rsquo;s Court,&rdquo; he replied.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Who with?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Old Mrs. Flint; but she doesn&rsquo;t want me.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Why not?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Oh, because I&rsquo;m nothing to her, she says, and she doesn&rsquo;t want the
+trouble of me.&rdquo; He tried to say this in a brave, don&rsquo;t-care sort of way, but
+his voice faltered and he dropped his eyes to the floor. How pitiful he
+looked!</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Poor child!&rdquo; I could not help saying aloud.</p>
+
+<p>Light flashed over his pale face. It was something new to him, this interest
+and compassion.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;One of God&rsquo;s little lambs.&rdquo; I heard the voice in my heart saying this
+again. Nobody to love him&mdash;nobody to care for him. Poor little boy!
+The hand of my own child, my son who is so very dear to me, had led him
+in through our door and claimed for him the love and care so long a stranger
+to his heart. Could I send him out and shut the door upon him, when I
+knew that he had no mother and no home? If I heeded not the cry of this
+little one precious in God&rsquo;s sight, might I not be thought unworthy to be the
+guardian of another lamb of his fold whom I loved as my own life?</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I&rsquo;ve got heaps of clothes, mother&mdash;a great many more than I want. And
+my bed is wide. There&rsquo;s room enough in the house, and we&rsquo;ve plenty to
+eat,&rdquo; said Harvey, pleading for the child. I could not withstand all these
+appeals. Rising, I told the little stranger to follow me. When we came
+back to the sitting-room half an hour afterward, Jim Peters would hardly
+have been known by his old acquaintances, if any of them had been there.
+A bath and clean clothes had made a wonderful change in him.</p>
+
+<p>I watched the poor little boy, as he and Harvey played during the afternoon,
+with no little concern of mind. What was I to do with him? Clean and
+neatly dressed, there was a look of refinement about the child which had
+nearly all been hidden by rags and dirt. He played gently, and his voice
+had in it a sweetness of tone, as it fell every now and then upon my ears, that
+was really winning. Send him back to Mrs. Flint&rsquo;s in Blake&rsquo;s Court? The
+change I had wrought upon him made this impossible. No, he could not be
+sent back to Mrs. Flint&rsquo;s, who didn&rsquo;t want the trouble of him. What then?</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_51" id="Page_51">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>51]</a></span></p>
+
+<div class="figcenter ipadtop" style="width: 427px;">
+<img src="images/hd025.jpg" width="427" height="600"
+alt="A barefoot boy wearing ragged clothes" />
+</div>
+
+<p class="caption">THE MOTHERLESS BOY.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_52" id="Page_52">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>52]</a></span>
+Do the kind hearts of my little readers repeat the question, &ldquo;What then?&rdquo;
+Do they want very much to know what has become of little Jim Peters?</p>
+
+<p>It is just a year since my boy led him in from the street, and Jim is still in
+our house. No one came for him. No one inquired about him. No one
+cared for him. I must take that last sentence back. God cared for him, and
+by the hand of my tender-hearted son brought him into my comfortable home
+and said to me, &ldquo;Here is one of my lambs, astray, hungry and cold. He
+was born into the world that he might become an angel in heaven, but is in
+danger of being lost. I give him into your care. Let me find him when I
+call my sheep by their names.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>As I finished writing the last sentence a voice close to my ear said
+&ldquo;Mother!&rdquo; I turned and received a loving kiss from the lips of Jim. He
+often does this. I think, in the midst of his happy plays, memory takes him
+back to the suffering past, and then his grateful heart runs over and he tries to
+reward me with a loving kiss. I did not tell him to call me &ldquo;Mother.&rdquo; At
+first he said it in a timid, hesitating way, and with such a pleading, half-scared
+look that I was touched and softened.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;She isn&rsquo;t your real mother,&rdquo; said Harvey, who happened to be near,
+&ldquo;but then she&rsquo;s good and loves you ever so much.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;And I love her,&rdquo; answered Jim, with a great throb in his throat, hiding
+his face in my lap and clasping and kissing my hand. Since then he always
+calls me &ldquo;Mother;&rdquo; and the God and Father of us all has sent into my heart
+a mother&rsquo;s love for him, and I pray that he may be mine when I come to
+make up my jewels in heaven.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+
+<h2><a name="Page_52lower" id="Page_52lower"></a>THE GOOD SHEPHERD.</h2>
+
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p class="cap">JESUS says that we must love him.<br />
+<span class="i2">Helpless as the lambs are we;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But He very kindly tells us<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">That our Shepherd He will be.<br /></span></p>
+</div>
+
+<div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Heavenly Shepherd, please to watch us,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Guard us both by night and day;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Pity show to little children,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Who like lambs too often stray.<br /></span>
+</div>
+
+<div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">We are always prone to wander:<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Please to keep us from each snare;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Teach our infant hearts to praise Thee<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">For Thy kindness and Thy care.<br /></span>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_53" id="Page_53">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>53]</a></span></p>
+
+<h2>THE ST. BERNARD DOG.</h2>
+
+
+<p><span class="dropcap">B</span>Y the pass of the Great St. Bernard
+travellers cross the Pennine Alps
+(Penn, a Celtic word, meaning <em>height</em>)
+along the mountain road which leads
+from Martigny, in Switzerland, to Aosta,
+in Piedmont. On the crest of the pass,
+eight thousand two hundred feet above
+the sea level, stands the Hospice, tenanted
+by about a dozen monks.</p>
+
+<p>This is supposed to be the highest
+spot in Europe inhabited by human
+beings. The climate is necessarily rigorous,
+the thermometer in winter being
+often twenty-nine degrees below zero,
+whilst sixty-eight degrees Fahrenheit is
+about the highest range ever attained in
+summer. From the extreme difficulty of
+respiration, few of the monks ever survive
+the period of their vow, which is fifteen
+years, commencing at the age of eighteen.</p>
+
+<p>This hospice is said to have been first
+founded in the year 962, by Bernard, a
+Piedmontese nobleman. It will be remembered
+that it was over this pass
+Napoleon, in May, 1800, led an army of
+thirty thousand men into Italy, having
+with them heavy artillery and cavalry.</p>
+
+<p>For poor travellers and traders the
+hospice is really a place of refuge. During
+winter, crossing this pass is a very
+dangerous affair. The snow falls in small
+particles, and remains as dry as dust.
+Whirlwinds, called &ldquo;tourmentes,&rdquo; catch
+up this light snow, and carrying it with
+blinding violence against the traveller,
+burying every landmark, at once put an
+end to knowledge of position. Avalanches,
+too, are of frequent occurrence.</p>
+
+<p>After violent storms, or the fall of avalanches,
+or any other unusual severity of
+winter weather, the monks set out in
+search of travellers who may have been
+overwhelmed by the snow in their ascent
+of the pass. They are generally accompanied
+in their search by dogs of a peculiar
+breed, commonly known as the St.
+Bernard&rsquo;s Dog, on account of the celebrated
+monastery where these magnificent
+animals are taught to exercise their
+wondrous powers, which have gained for
+them and their teachers a world-wide
+fame. On their neck is a bell, to attract
+the attention of any belated wayfarer;
+and their deep and powerful bay quickly
+gives notice to the benevolent monks to
+hurry to the relief of any unfortunate
+traveller they may find.</p>
+
+<p>Some of the dogs carry, attached to
+their collars, a flask of spirits or other restorative.
+Their wonderfully acute sense
+of smell enables them to detect the bodies
+of persons buried deeply beneath the
+surface of the snow, and thus direct the
+searchers where to dig for them. The
+animal&rsquo;s instinct seems to teach it, too,
+where hidden chasms or clefts, filled with
+loose snow, are; for it carefully avoids
+them, and thus is an all-important guide
+to the monks themselves.</p>
+
+<p>We have stories without number as to
+what these dogs accomplish on their own
+account; how they dig out travellers, and
+bring them, sometimes unaided by man,
+to the hospice.</p>
+
+<div class="figcenter ipadtop" style="width: 410px;">
+<img src="images/hd026.jpg" width="410" height="600"
+alt="A St. Bernard digs out a man buried in snow" />
+</div>
+
+<p class="caption">THE ST. BERNARD DOG.</p>
+
+<p>A few years ago one of these faithful
+animals might be seen wearing a medal,
+and regarded with much affection by all.
+This noble dog had well deserved the
+distinction; for one stormy day he had
+saved twenty-two individuals buried in
+their snowy envelope. Unfortunately, he
+met, at a subsequent period, the very
+fate from which he had rescued so many
+persons. At the worst season an Italian
+courier was crossing the pass, attended
+by two monks, each escorted by a dog
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_54" id="Page_54"><!-- Illustration - THE ST. BERNARD DOG --></a></span>
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_55" id="Page_55">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>55]</a></span>
+(one being the wearer of the medal),
+when suddenly a vast avalanche shot
+down upon them with lightning speed,
+and they were all lost.</p>
+
+<p>Another of these dogs, named &ldquo;Barry,&rdquo;
+had served the St. Bernard Convent during
+twelve years, and had saved the lives of
+fifteen persons during that time. Whenever
+the pass was obscured by fogs and
+wintry snow-storms, he would go forth in
+search of lost travellers. It was his practice
+to run barking till he lost his breath,
+and he would venture into the most dangerous
+places. If, as sometimes happened,
+he did not succeed in drawing out
+from the snow some traveller stiffened
+with cold or overcome with exhaustion,
+he would run back to the convent and
+fetch some of the monks.</p>
+
+<p>One day this brave dog found a little
+child in a half-frozen state. He began
+directly to lick him, and having succeeded
+first in restoring animation, and next
+in the complete resuscitation of the boy,
+he induced the child, by his caresses, to
+tie himself on his back. When this was
+effected, he transported the poor child,
+as if in triumph, to the hospice. When
+overtaken by old age, the glorious dog
+was pensioned off by way of reward, and
+after his death his body was stuffed and
+placed in the museum at Berne.</p>
+
+<p>It is said that dogs of this variety inherit
+the faculty of tracking footsteps in
+snow. A gentleman once obtained a pup
+which had been produced in London by
+a female of the St. Bernard breed. The
+young animal was brought to Scotland,
+where it was never observed to give any
+particular tokens of a power of tracking
+footsteps until winter. Then, when the
+ground was covered with snow, it showed
+the utmost inclination to follow footsteps;
+and such was its power of doing so, that
+though its master might attempt to confuse
+it by walking in the most irregular
+fashion, and by inducing other persons to
+cross his path in all directions, yet it always
+followed his course with great precision.</p>
+
+<p>Sir Thomas Dick Lander, who for
+many years resided at Grange House,
+Edinburgh, had a fine dog of the St. Bernard
+breed presented to him. Its bark
+was so loud that it could be distinguished
+at the distance of a mile. Its bark once
+led to its recovery, when stolen by some
+carters. &ldquo;Bass,&rdquo; as the dog was named,
+had been missing for some time, when it
+was brought back to Grange House by a
+letter-carrier, who said that in going along
+a certain street, he heard a barking inside
+a yard, and at once recognized the voice
+of Bass. &ldquo;He knocked at the gate,&rdquo;
+writes Sir Thomas, &ldquo;and immediately
+said to the owner of the premises,&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;&lsquo;You have got Sir Thomas Lander&rsquo;s
+big dog.&rsquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;The man denied it.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;&lsquo;But I know you have,&rsquo; continued the
+letter-carrier. &lsquo;I am certain that I heard
+the bark of Sir Thomas&rsquo;s big dog; for
+there is no other dog in or about all Edinburgh
+that has such a bark.&rsquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;The man then admitted that he had
+a large dog, which he had bought for a
+trifle from a couple of coal carters; and
+at last, with great reluctance, he gave up
+the dog to the letter-carrier, who brought
+him home here.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Sir Thomas, after describing many of
+Bass&rsquo;s characteristics, then proceeds:&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;He took a particular fancy for one of
+the postmen who delivers letters here,
+though he was not the man whom I have
+already had occasion to mention. It was
+the duty of this postman I now allude
+to, besides delivering letters, to carry a
+letter-bag from one receiving house to
+another, and this big bag he used to
+give Bass to carry. Bass always followed
+that man through all the villas in
+the neighborhood where he had deliveries
+to make, and he invariably parted with
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_56" id="Page_56">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>56]</a></span>
+him opposite to the gate of the Convent
+of St. Margaret&rsquo;s, and returned home.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;When our gate was shut, to prevent
+his following the postman, the dog always
+leaped a high wall to get after him. One
+day, when the postman was ill, or detained
+by some accidental circumstance, he sent
+a man in his place. Bass went up to
+the man, curiously scanning his face,
+whilst the man retired from the dog, by
+no means liking his appearance, and very
+anxious to decline all acquaintance with
+him. But as the man left the place,
+Bass followed him, showing strong
+symptoms that he was determined to
+have the post-bag. The man did all he
+could to keep the possession of it. But
+at length Bass, seeing that he had no
+chance of getting possession of the bag
+by civil entreaty, raised himself on his
+hind legs, and putting a great fore paw
+on each of the man&rsquo;s shoulders, he laid
+him flat on his back in the road, and quietly
+picking up the bag, he proceeded
+peaceably on his wonted way. The man,
+much dismayed, arose and followed the
+dog, making, every now and then, an ineffectual
+attempt to coax him to give it up.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;At the first house he came to he told
+his fears and the dilemma he was in; but
+the people comforted him by telling him
+that the dog always carried the bag.
+Bass walked with the man to all the
+houses at which he delivered letters, and
+along the road till he came to the gate
+of St. Margaret&rsquo;s, where he dropped the
+bag; and making his bow to the man, he
+returned home.&rdquo;</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+
+<h2><a name="Page_56lower" id="Page_56lower"></a>THE FLIGHT OF THE BIRDS.</h2>
+
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p class="cap">O WISE little birds! how do you know<br />
+<span class="i4">The way to go<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Southward and northward, to and fro?<br /></span></p>
+</div>
+
+<div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Far up in the ether piped they:<br /></span>
+<span class="i4">&ldquo;We but obey<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">One who calleth us far away.<br /></span>
+</div>
+
+<div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">&ldquo;He calleth and calleth year by year<br /></span>
+<span class="i4">Now there, now here;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Ever He maketh the way appear.&rdquo;<br /></span>
+</div>
+
+<div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Dear little birds, He calleth me<br /></span>
+<span class="i4">Who calleth ye:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Would that I might as trusting be!<br /></span>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_57" id="Page_57">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>57]</a></span></p>
+
+<div class="figcenter ipadtop" style="width: 478px;">
+<img src="images/hd027.jpg" width="478" height="600"
+alt="Two girls lean out of a window to feed birds" />
+</div>
+
+<p class="caption">FEEDING THE BIRDS.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_58" id="Page_58">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>58]</a></span></p>
+
+<h2>FOR THE CHILDREN.</h2>
+
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p class="cap">COME stand by my knee, little children,<br />
+<span class="i3">Too weary for laughter or song;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The sports of the daylight are over,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And evening is creeping along;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The snow-fields are white in the moonlight,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">The winds of the winter are chill,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But under the sheltering roof-tree<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">The fire shineth ruddy and still.<br /></span></p>
+</div>
+
+<div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">You sit by the fire, little children,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Your cheeks are ruddy and warm;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But out in the cold of the winter<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Is many a shivering form.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">There are mothers that wander for shelter,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And babes that are pining for bread;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Oh, thank the dear Lord, little children,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">From whose tender hand you are fed.<br /></span>
+</div>
+
+<div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Come look in my eyes, little children,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And tell me, through all the long day,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Have you thought of the Father above us,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Who guarded from evil our way?<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">He heareth the cry of the sparrow,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And careth for great and for small;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">In life and in death, little children,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">His love is the truest of all.<br /></span>
+</div>
+
+<div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Now come to your rest, little children,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And over your innocent sleep,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Unseen by your vision, the angels<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Their watch through the darkness shall keep;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Then pray that the Shepherd who guideth<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">The lambs that He loveth so well<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">May lead you, in life&rsquo;s rosy morning,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Beside the still waters to dwell.<br /></span>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_59" id="Page_59">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>59]</a></span></p>
+
+<div class="figcenter ipadtop" style="width: 398px;">
+<img src="images/hd028.jpg" width="398" height="600"
+alt="Three young children go up to bed with their mother" />
+</div>
+
+<p class="caption">BED-TIME.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_60" id="Page_60">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>60]</a></span></p>
+
+<div class="figcenter ipadboth" style="width: 383px;">
+<img src="images/hd029.jpg" width="383" height="500"
+alt="A dog breaks a hole through ice to get a drink" />
+</div>
+
+<h2>REASON AND INSTINCT.</h2>
+
+
+<p><span class="dropcap">A</span>RE dogs endowed with reason?
+As you grow up, you will spend
+many happy hours in the contemplation
+of this interesting question. It does
+sometimes seem as if there could be no
+possible doubt that dogs, as well as
+horses, elephants, and some other of the
+higher animals, are gifted with the dawn
+of reason, so extraordinary are some of
+their acts.</p>
+
+<p>It is but a few days since a dog in Vermont
+saved a house from burning, and
+possibly the inmates. The dog discovered
+the fire in the kitchen, flew to his
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_61" id="Page_61">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>61]</a></span>
+master&rsquo;s apartment, leaped upon his bed,
+and so aroused the people to a sense of
+their danger.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;As I was walking out one frosty
+morning with a large Newfoundland dog,&rdquo;
+says the Rev. J.&nbsp;C. Atkinson, &ldquo;I observed
+the animal&rsquo;s repeated disappointment on
+putting his head down to drink at sundry
+ice-covered pools. After one of these
+disappointments, I broke the ice with my
+foot for my thirsty companion. The next
+time Tiger was thirsty, he did not wait for
+me to &lsquo;break the ice,&rsquo; but with his foot,
+or, if too strong, by jumping upon it, he
+obtained water for himself.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Here seems to be the manifestation of
+a desire to <em>learn from observation</em>.</p>
+
+<p>After the battle of Fredericksburg, it
+fell to my duty to search a given district
+for any dead or wounded soldiers there
+might be left, and to bring relief. Near
+an old brick dwelling I discovered a soldier
+in gray who seemed to be dead.
+Lying by his side was a noble dog, with
+his head flat upon his master&rsquo;s neck. As
+I approached, the dog raised his eyes to
+me good-naturedly, and began wagging
+his tail; but he did not change his position.
+The fact that the animal did not
+growl, that he did not move, but, more
+than all, the intelligent, joyful expression
+of his face, convinced me that the man
+was only wounded, which proved to be
+the case. A bullet had pierced his throat,
+and faint from the loss of blood, he had
+fallen down where he lay. His dog had
+<em>actually stopped the bleeding from the
+wound by laying his head across it</em>.
+Whether this was casual or not, I cannot
+say. But the shaggy coat of the faithful
+creature was completely matted with his
+master&rsquo;s blood.</p>
+
+<p>Strange as these facts may appear, we
+should not confound <small>INSTINCT</small> with intelligence
+which comes from <small>REASON</small>. There
+is a wide difference between them. Before
+long I propose to discuss this matter
+to some extent, in an article which I have
+already begun.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+
+<h2><a name="Page_61lower" id="Page_61lower"></a>TOUCH NOT.</h2>
+
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p class="cap">TOUCH not the tempting cup, my boy,<br />
+<span class="i3">Though urged by friend or foe;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Dare, when the tempter urges most,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Dare nobly say, No&mdash;no!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The joyous angel from on high<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Shall tell your soul the reason why.<br /></span></p>
+</div>
+
+<div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Touch not the tempting cup, my boy;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">In righteousness be brave;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Take not the first, a single step,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Towards a drunkard&rsquo;s grave;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The widow&rsquo;s groan, the orphan&rsquo;s sigh,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Shall tell your soul the reason why.<br /></span>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_62" id="Page_62">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>62]</a></span></p>
+
+<div class="figcenter ipadboth" style="width: 409px;">
+<img src="images/hd030.jpg" width="409" height="500"
+alt="Two girls, their arms full of flowers and foliage" />
+</div>
+
+<h2>CHILDREN.</h2>
+
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p class="cap">WHAT could we without them,<br />
+<span class="i4">Those flowers of life?<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">How bear all the sorrows<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">With which it is rife?<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">As long as they blossom,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Whilst brightly they bloom,<br /></span>
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_63" id="Page_63">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>63]</a></span>
+<span class="i0">Our own griefs are nothing,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Forgotten our gloom.<br /></span></p>
+</div>
+
+<div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">We joy in the sunshine&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">It sheds on them light;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">We welcome the shower&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">It makes them more bright;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">On our pathway of thorns<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">They are thrown from above,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And they twine round about us,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And bless us with love.<br /></span>
+</div>
+
+<div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Bright, beautiful flowers,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">So fresh and so pure!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">How could we without them<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Life&rsquo;s troubles endure?<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">So guileless and holy,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Such soothers of strife,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">What could we without them,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Sweet flowers of life?<br /></span>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+
+<h2><a name="Page_63lower" id="Page_63lower"></a>THE WHITE BUTTERFLY.</h2>
+
+<p class="center">A TALE FOR CHILDREN.</p>
+
+
+<p><span class="dropcap">V</span>ERY slowly and wearily over road and hedge flew a white butterfly one
+calm May evening; its wings had been torn and battered in its flight
+from eager pursuers, who little cared that their pleasure was another&rsquo;s pain.
+On, on, went the fugitive, until it came to a little garden so sweet and quiet
+that it rested from its flight and said, &ldquo;Here, at least, I shall find peace;
+these gentle flowers will give me shelter.&rdquo; Then, with eager swiftness, it
+flew to a stately peony. &ldquo;Oh, give me shelter, thou beautiful flower!&rdquo; it
+murmured as it rested for a second upon its crimson head&mdash;a second only,
+for, with a jerk and an exclamation of disgust, the peony cast the butterfly to
+the ground. With a low sigh it turned to the pansy near. Well, the pansy
+<em>wished</em> to be kind, but the butterfly was really very tattered and dirty; and
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_64" id="Page_64">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>64]</a></span>
+then velvet soils so easily that she must beg to be excused. The wall-flower,
+naturally frank and good-natured, had been so tormented all day by those
+troublesome bees that she solemnly vowed she would do nothing more for
+anybody.</p>
+
+<p>The tulips were asleep; and the other flowers, trying to emulate fair Lady
+Rose, held their heads so very high that they, of course, did not hear the low,
+soft cry, &ldquo;Oh, will no one give me shelter?&rdquo; At last there came an answer, &ldquo;I
+will, gladly,&rdquo; in a shy and trembling tone, as though fearing to be presumptuous,
+from a thick thorny bush which helped to protect the more dainty beauties
+from the rough blasts of a sometimes too boisterous wind; in consideration of
+which service the flowers considered the briar as a good, useful sort of thing,
+respectable enough in its common way, but not as an equal or associate, you
+understand. With gratitude the forlorn butterfly rested all night in the bosom
+of one of its simple white blossoms.</p>
+
+<p>When night had gone and the bright sun came gliding up from the east,
+calling on Nature to awake, the flowers raised their heads in all the pride of
+renewed beauty and saluted one another. Where was the forlorn butterfly?
+Ah! where? They saw it no more; but over the white blossom where it had
+rested there hovered a tiny fairy in shining, changing sheen, her wand sparkling
+with dewdrops. She looked down on the flowers with gentle, reproachful
+eye, while they bent low in wonder and admiration.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Who is it?&rdquo; they asked. &ldquo;How beautiful! how lovely!&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>The fairy heard them with a smile, and said, &ldquo;Fair flowers, I <em>was</em> a shabby
+butterfly; what I <em>am</em>, you see. I came to you poor and weary; and because I
+was poor and weary you shut me out from your hearts.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>The pansy and the wall-flower bent their heads in sorrow, and Lady Rose
+blushed with shame.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;If I had only known!&rdquo; muttered the peony; &ldquo;but who would have
+thought it?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Who indeed?&rdquo; laughed the fairy; &ldquo;but learn, proud peony, that he who
+thinks always of self loses much of life&rsquo;s sweetness&mdash;far more than he ever
+suspects; for goodness is as the dew of the heart, and yieldeth refreshment
+and happiness, even if it win no other recompense. But it is meet that it
+should be rewarded. Behold, all of you!&rdquo; and the fairy touched with her
+wand the white blossom on which she had rested, saying, &ldquo;For thy sweetness
+be thou loved for ever!&rdquo; At these words a thrill of happiness stirred the sap
+of the rough, neglected briar, and a soft, lovely blush suffused the petals of its
+flowers, and from its green leaves came forth an exquisite odor, perfuming
+the whole garden and eclipsing the other flowers in their pride.</p>
+
+<p>Then the fairy rose in the air, and hovering over her resting-place for a
+moment ere she vanished said, &ldquo;Such is the reward of goodness. Fare
+thee well, sweet briar!&rdquo;</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_65" id="Page_65">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>65]</a></span></p>
+
+<div class="figcenter ipadboth" style="width: 506px;">
+<img src="images/hd031.jpg" width="506" height="400"
+alt="Tom and Pearson on the deck of the ship in the snow" />
+</div>
+
+<h2>WORKING IS BETTER THAN WISHING.</h2>
+
+
+<p><span class="dropcap">N</span>OW then, Tom, lad, what&rsquo;s up?
+in trouble again?&rdquo; asked a good-natured
+sailor of his messmate, one snowy
+day on the wide Atlantic.</p>
+
+<p>The boy was leaning moodily against
+the bulwarks of the vessel&mdash;a pleasant,
+ruddy young fellow of fourteen, but with
+a cloud on his face which looked very like
+discontent.</p>
+
+<p>Snow was falling heavily, but he did
+not heed it; he looked up, however, at
+the approach of his friend, and answered,&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I&rsquo;m all right, Pearson; it isn&rsquo;t that. I
+was only wishing and wondering why I
+can&rsquo;t get what I want; it seems a shame,
+it does!&rdquo; and Tom paused abruptly, half
+choked by a sob.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;What is it, Tom?&rdquo; asked Pearson;
+&ldquo;have the other lads been plaguing?
+Such a big, hearty fellow as you ought
+not to fret for that.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I don&rsquo;t,&rdquo; said Tom, sharply; &ldquo;it&rsquo;s not
+that; but they&rsquo;ve found out that my little
+brother is in the workhouse at home,
+and they throw it at me. I&rsquo;d do anything
+to get him out, too, for he oughtn&rsquo;t to be
+there: we come of a better sort, Pearson,&rdquo;
+he said, proudly; &ldquo;but father and mother
+dying of that fever put us all wrong.
+Uncle got me to sea, and then, I suppose,
+he thought he&rsquo;d done enough; so there
+was only the workhouse left for Willy.
+He&rsquo;s the jolliest little chap, Pearson, you
+ever saw, and I&rsquo;d work day and night to
+get him out, if I could; but where&rsquo;s the
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_66" id="Page_66">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>66]</a></span>
+use? A poor boy like me can do nothing;
+so I just get in a rage, or don&rsquo;t care about
+anything, and fight the other lads; or I&rsquo;m
+had up for neglect of duty, or something.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;And so you lose all chance of getting
+on, and being able in time to help your
+little brother,&rdquo; said Pearson, as if musing;
+&ldquo;but what&rsquo;s that you have in your
+hand, Tom&mdash;a picture?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;It&rsquo;s Willy,&rdquo; said the boy; &ldquo;yes, you
+may look, Pearson. Mother had it taken
+just before she fell ill; he&rsquo;s only four, but
+he&rsquo;s the prettiest little chap, with yellow
+hair all in curls. I dare say they&rsquo;ve cut
+them off, though,&rdquo; he added, bitterly.
+&ldquo;There&rsquo;s a bit of a sickly child on board,
+belonging to the tall lady in black, that
+reminds me a little of him, only he isn&rsquo;t
+near as pretty as Willy.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Yes, he is a pretty little lad,&rdquo; said
+Pearson, returning the photograph; &ldquo;and
+now, Tom, mind my word: I am an old
+fellow compared to you, and I&rsquo;ll give you
+a bit of advice. The little lad is safe, at
+any rate, in the workhouse; he&rsquo;s got food
+and clothes, and you couldn&rsquo;t give him
+that; so be content, and try to do your
+own duty. If you get a good character,
+instead of being always had up for sulking
+or fighting, that&rsquo;s the best chance for
+you, and, after you, for Willy. As for the
+lads&rsquo; teasing, why, be a bit hard of hearing,
+and before many years, I warrant,
+you&rsquo;ll be having Willy aboard ship as boy,
+when you&rsquo;re an able-bodied seaman.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Tom laughed. &ldquo;Thank you, Pearson.
+Well, I&rsquo;ll try; but I do get wishing and
+bothering of nights.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Ah, that wishing&rsquo;s a poor trick,&rdquo; said
+Pearson; &ldquo;give it up, Tom, and work
+instead.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>People don&rsquo;t often take advice, but this
+time it was followed. A great deal of
+rough weather came on; every one had
+as much as he could do, and Tom
+worked with the best of them, and to his
+great joy was noticed by the ship&rsquo;s officers
+as a willing lad.</p>
+
+<p>One bright morning brought all the
+passengers on deck,&mdash;the ship was bound
+for Rio,&mdash;and among them came the tall
+lady in black, with her little boy in her
+arms. Tom&rsquo;s duties took him near her,
+and he could not but steal a glance at the
+little face like Willy&rsquo;s; but, O, so pale
+and pinched now! The child had suffered
+dreadfully in the rough weather; it was
+doubtful whether he would see land again,
+he was so weakened. Tom felt sorry for
+the little fellow, but his work engrossed
+him, and he had nearly forgotten the
+white-faced child, when, to his great surprise,
+the captain called him. The lady in
+black was a relative of the captain, and it
+seemed that while Tom had been glancing
+at the sick child, the child had been watching
+him, and had taken a fancy to his clear
+round face, and active movements.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Let me see what sort of a head-nurse
+you can make,&rdquo; said the captain to Tom;
+&ldquo;this little fellow will have you carry him,
+he says, and teach him to climb the rigging.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Tom smiled, but instantly checked himself,
+as hardly respectful to the captain.</p>
+
+<p>They dressed Carlo up in a suit of sailor
+clothes. To be sure they were rather large
+for him, but then it was such fun to be a
+real little sailor. Under Tom&rsquo;s care his
+face soon grew round and fat, and his
+merry laugh rang out on the air. And
+now he would live to see his father and
+his birthplace again, for he was born in
+South America, and had only left his
+Portuguese father for a few months, to
+accompany his English mother on a visit
+to her relatives.</p>
+
+<p>The day before they sighted land, Tom
+was sent for into the captain&rsquo;s cabin, and
+there a wonderful proposal was made to
+him&mdash;that he should give up sea life,
+and go to Bella Sierra as little Carlo&rsquo;s attendant.
+Carlo&rsquo;s parents were rich people;
+little Carlo had taken a great fancy
+to him, and he would have good wages.</p>
+
+<div class="figcenter ipadtop" style="width: 421px;">
+<img src="images/hd032.jpg" width="421" height="600"
+alt="Carlo dressed in his sailor suit" />
+</div>
+
+<p class="caption">THE LITTLE SAILOR.</p>
+
+<p>It sounded very pleasant; but little
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_67" id="Page_67"><!-- Illustration - THE LITTLE SAILOR --></a></span>
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_68" id="Page_68">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>68]</a></span>
+Willy! he should never see him&mdash;it
+would not do. Tom hesitatingly explained
+this to Carlo&rsquo;s mother, drawing the little
+photograph out of his pocket the while.</p>
+
+<p>Then came the last and best proposition,&mdash;that
+Willy should come out on the
+<i>Flying Star&rsquo;s</i> next voyage, and live, too,
+at Bella Sierra. Mrs. Costello&mdash;the lady
+in black&mdash;promised to pay all expenses,
+and put him in charge of the stewardess.
+Carlo, her only child, had grown so fond
+of Tom, that she would do anything to
+keep him.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Such an active, willing boy,&rdquo; she explained
+to the captain. &ldquo;I have often
+watched him at work, and admired the
+way in which he did it.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Well, lad,&rdquo; said Pearson, when Tom
+came to tell him the news, &ldquo;wasn&rsquo;t I right
+when I told you that the best way you
+could work for Willy was by doing your
+own duty? If you had gone on in that
+half-and-half, discontented way, no rich
+lady would have cared to have you about
+her house&mdash;would she?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Tom looked thoughtful. &ldquo;Yes, you
+were right, Pearson; you&rsquo;ve done it all;
+and now I want you to do one thing
+more. Please look after Willy a bit when
+he comes out; he&rsquo;s such a daring little
+chap, he&rsquo;ll always be running away from
+the stewardess.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Ah, you want me to be nurse now&mdash;do
+you?&rdquo; said Pearson; &ldquo;all right, lad,
+and as the song says, &lsquo;Don&rsquo;t forget me
+in the land you&rsquo;re going to.&rsquo; And you
+can still stick to my old motto, that
+&lsquo;Working is better than Wishing.&rsquo;&rdquo;</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+
+<h2><a name="Page_68lower" id="Page_68lower"></a>KIND TO EVERYTHING.</h2>
+
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p class="cap">SOFTLY, softly, little sister,<br />
+<span class="i3">Touch those gayly-painted wings;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Butterflies and moths, remember,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Are such very tender things.<br /></span></p>
+</div>
+
+<div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Softly, softly, little sister,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Twirl your limber hazel twig;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Little hands may harm a nestling<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Thoughtlessly, as well as big.<br /></span>
+</div>
+
+<div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Gently stroke the purring pussy,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Kindly pat the friendly dog;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Let your unmolesting mercy<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Even spare the toad or frog.<br /></span>
+</div>
+
+<div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Wide is God&rsquo;s great world around you:<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Let the harmless creatures live;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Do not mar their brief enjoyment,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Take not what you cannot give.<br /></span>
+</div>
+
+<div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Let your heart be warm and tender&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">For the mute and helpless plead;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Pitying leads to prompt relieving,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Kindly thought to kindly deed.<br /></span>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_69" id="Page_69">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>69]</a></span></p>
+
+<div class="figcenter ipadtop" style="width: 418px;">
+<img src="images/hd033.jpg" width="418" height="600"
+alt="A little girl with an armful of flowers examines a butterfly perched on her hand" />
+</div>
+
+<p class="caption">SOFTLY, SOFTLY, LITTLE SISTER.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_70" id="Page_70">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>70]</a></span></p>
+
+<div class="figcenter ipadboth" style="width: 400px;">
+<img src="images/hd034.jpg" width="400" height="399"
+alt="The farmer and the calf" />
+</div>
+
+<h2>THAT CALF!</h2>
+
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p class="cap">TO the yard, by the barn, came the farmer one morn,<br />
+<span class="i3">And, calling the cattle, he said,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">While they trembled with fright, &ldquo;Now, which of you, last night,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Shut the barn door, while I was abed?&rdquo;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Each one of them all shook his head.<br /></span></p>
+</div>
+
+<div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Now the little calf Spot, she was down in the lot;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And the way the rest talked was a shame;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">For no one, night before, saw her shut up the door;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">But they said that she did,&mdash;all the same,&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">For they always made her take the blame.<br /></span>
+</div>
+
+<div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Said the horse (dapple gray), &ldquo;I was not up that way<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Last night, as I now recollect;&rdquo;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And the bull, passing by, tossed his horns very high,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And said, &ldquo;Let who may here object,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">I say &rsquo;tis that calf I suspect!&rdquo;<br /></span>
+</div>
+
+<div class="stanza">
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_71" id="Page_71">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>71]</a></span>
+<span class="i0">Then out spoke the cow, &ldquo;It is terrible, now,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">To accuse honest folks of such tricks.&rdquo;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Said the cock in the tree, &ldquo;I&rsquo;m sure &rsquo;twasn&rsquo;t me;&rdquo;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And the sheep all cried, &ldquo;Bah!&rdquo; (There were six.)<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">&ldquo;Now that calf&rsquo;s got herself in a fix!&rdquo;<br /></span>
+</div>
+
+<div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">&ldquo;Why, of course, we all knew &rsquo;twas the wrong thing to do.&rdquo;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Said the chickens. &ldquo;Of course,&rdquo; said the cat;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">&ldquo;I suppose,&rdquo; cried the mule, &ldquo;some folks think me a fool;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">But I&rsquo;m not quite so simple as that;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">The poor calf never knows what she&rsquo;s at!&rdquo;<br /></span>
+</div>
+
+<div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Just that moment, the calf, who was always the laugh<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And the jest of the yard, came in sight.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">&ldquo;Did you shut my barn door?&rdquo; asked the farmer once more.<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">&ldquo;I did, sir; I closed it last night,&rdquo;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Said the calf; &ldquo;and I thought that was right.&rdquo;<br /></span>
+</div>
+
+<div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Then each one shook his head. &ldquo;She will catch it,&rdquo; they said;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">&ldquo;Serve her right for her meddlesome way!&rdquo;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Said the farmer, &ldquo;Come here, little bossy, my dear!<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">You have done what I cannot repay,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And your fortune is made from to-day.<br /></span>
+</div>
+
+<div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">&ldquo;For a wonder, last night, I forgot the door, quite;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And if you had not shut it so neat,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">All my colts had slipped in, and gone right to the bin,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And got what they ought not to eat&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">They&rsquo;d have foundered themselves upon wheat.&rdquo;<br /></span>
+</div>
+
+<div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Then each hoof of them all began loudly to bawl;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">The very mule smiled; the cock crew;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">&ldquo;Little Spotty, my dear, you&rsquo;re a favorite here,&rdquo;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">They cried. &ldquo;We all said it was you,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">We were so glad to give you your due.&rdquo;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And the calf answered, knowingly, &ldquo;Boo!&rdquo;<br /></span>
+</div>
+
+<p class="poet smcap">Ph&oelig;be Cary.</p>
+</div>
+
+<div class="figcenter ipadboth" style="width: 200px;">
+<img src="images/hd035.jpg" width="200" height="124"
+alt="Decoration" />
+</div>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_72" id="Page_72">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>72]</a></span></p>
+
+<div class="figcenter ipadtop" style="width: 474px;">
+<img src="images/hd036.jpg" width="474" height="600"
+alt="A child helps mother carry firewood to the house" />
+</div>
+
+<p class="caption">HELPING MOTHER.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_73" id="Page_73">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>73]</a></span></p>
+
+<h2>LITTLE HELPERS.</h2>
+
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p class="cap">PLANTING the corn and potatoes,<br />
+<span class="i3">Helping to scatter the seeds,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Feeding the hens and the chickens,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Freeing the garden from weeds,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Driving the cows to the pasture,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Feeding the horse in the stall,&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">We little children are busy;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Sure, there is work for us all.<br /></span></p>
+</div>
+
+<div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Spreading the hay in the sunshine,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Raking it up when it&rsquo;s dry,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Picking the apples and peaches<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Down in the orchard hard by,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Picking the grapes in the vineyard,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Gathering nuts in the fall,&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">We little children are busy;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Yes, there is work for us all.<br /></span>
+</div>
+
+<div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Sweeping, and washing the dishes,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Bringing the wood from the shed,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Ironing, sewing and knitting,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Helping to make up the beds,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Taking good care of the baby,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Watching her lest she should fall,&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">We little children are busy;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Oh, there is work for us all.<br /></span>
+</div>
+
+<div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Work makes us cheerful and happy,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Makes us both active and strong;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Play we enjoy all the better<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">When we have labored so long.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Gladly we help our kind parents,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Quickly we come to their call;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Children should love to be busy;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">There is much work for us all.<br /></span>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_74" id="Page_74">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>74]</a></span></p>
+
+<div class="figcenter ipadtop" style="width: 419px;">
+<img src="images/hd037.jpg" width="419" height="600"
+alt="Three puppies look curiously at a tortoise" />
+</div>
+
+<p class="caption">THE PUZZLED PUPPIES.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_75" id="Page_75">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>75]</a></span></p>
+
+<h2>THE ANIMAL IN ARMOR.</h2>
+
+
+<p><span class="dropcap">T</span>HIS picture of three curious little puppies looking at a tortoise reminds
+me of a story told of a countryman who saw some land-tortoises for the
+first time at a fair held in a market-place of his native village. Very much
+surprised at their queer look, he asked the man who was selling them how
+much they were.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Eighteenpence a pair,&rdquo; was the answer.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Eighteenpence!&rdquo; said the man; &ldquo;that is a great deal for a thing like a
+frog. What will you take for one <em>without the box</em>?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Little folks would not make such a stupid mistake as this; they would know
+that this strange-looking animal between its two shells was a tortoise. There
+are different sorts&mdash;some that live on land, and some in water. Those that
+live in the sea are called turtles, and their shells are not so hard as that of the
+land-tortoise. It is easy to see why this is: a turtle would not be able to
+swim with so thick a shell; it would be much as if a man in armor were to
+try. Their shells are not all in one, but joined together by a sort of gristle,
+which enables them to move with greater ease and not so stiffly.</p>
+
+<p>Directly any one hears the name of tortoise, he begins to think of tortoise-shell.
+This ought really to be called turtle-shell, as it is made from the shell
+of the hawk&rsquo;s-bill turtle. Tortoise-shell is made by soaking the plates of the
+shell in warm water until they are soft; then they are pressed into the shapes
+wanted in warm iron moulds, and taken out and polished.</p>
+
+<p>Some of the sea-turtles are very fierce; and although they have no teeth,
+their jaws are so strong that they can bite a walking-stick in half. Land-tortoises
+are quite harmless; they only attack the insects they feed upon.
+They go to sleep, like the dormouse, in the winter, but they do not make a
+burrow; they cover themselves with earth by scraping it up and throwing it
+over their bodies. In doing this they would find their heads and tails very
+much in the way if it were not that they are able to draw them in between
+their shells. No one, of course, knows how they find their way out again in
+the spring; but it is supposed that they scratch the earth away and throw it
+underneath them, at the same time pushing their way up.</p>
+
+<p>Tortoises live to a very great age. One was given to the Zoological
+Gardens in 1833 which had already lived seventy years in Port Louis, in the
+island of Mauritius. Its shell, from the head to the tail, measured four feet
+four inches and a half, and it weighed two hundred and eighty-five pounds.</p>
+
+<div class="figcenter ipadboth" style="width: 200px;">
+<img src="images/hd038.png" width="200" height="37"
+alt="Decoration" />
+</div>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_76" id="Page_76">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>76]</a></span></p>
+
+<div class="figcenter ipadboth" style="width: 560px;">
+<img src="images/hd039.jpg" width="560" height="400"
+alt="A Chinese man fishing with birds" />
+</div>
+
+<h2>THE IRON RING.</h2>
+
+
+<p><span class="dropcap">C</span>HANG WANG was a Chinaman,
+and was reputed to be one of the
+shrewdest dealers in the Flowery Land.
+If making money fast be the test of cleverness,
+there was not a merchant in the
+province of Kwang Tung who had earned
+a better right to be called clever. Who
+owned so many fields of the tea-plant,
+who shipped so many bales of its leaves
+to the little island in the west, as did
+Chang Wang? It was whispered, indeed,
+that many of the bales contained
+green tea made by chopping up spoiled
+black tea leaves, and coloring them with
+copper&mdash;a process likely to turn them
+into a mild kind of poison; but if the
+unwholesome trash found purchasers,
+Chang Wang never troubled himself with
+the thought whether any one might suffer
+in health from drinking his tea. So long
+as the dealer made money, he was content;
+and plenty of money he made.</p>
+
+<p>But knowing how to make money is
+quite a different thing from knowing how
+to enjoy it. With all his ill-gotten gains,
+Chang Wang was a miserable man; for
+he had no heart to spend his silver pieces,
+even on his own comfort. The rich dealer
+lived in a hut which one of his own
+laborers might have despised; he dressed
+as a poor Tartar shepherd might have
+dressed when driving his flock. Chang
+Wang grudged himself even a hat to
+keep off the rays of the sun. Men laughed,
+and said that he would have cut off his
+own pigtail of plaited hair, if he could
+have sold it for the price of a dinner!</p>
+
+<p>Chang Wang was, in fact, a miser, and
+was rather proud than ashamed of the
+hateful vice of avarice.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_77" id="Page_77">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>77]</a></span>
+Chang Wang had to make a journey to
+Macao, down the great River Yang-se-kiang,
+for purposes of trade. The question
+with the Chinaman now was, in what
+way he should travel.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Shall I hire a palanquin?&rdquo; thought
+Chang Wang, stroking his thin mustaches;
+&ldquo;no, a palanquin would cost too
+much money. Shall I take my passage
+in a trading vessel?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>The rich trader shook his head, and
+the pigtail behind it&mdash;such a passage
+would have to be paid for.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I know what I&rsquo;ll do,&rdquo; said the miser
+to himself; &ldquo;I&rsquo;ll ask my uncle Fing Fang
+to take me in his fishing-boat down the
+great river. It is true that it will make
+my journey a long one; but then I shall
+make it for nothing. I&rsquo;ll go to the fisherman
+Fing Fang, and settle the matter at
+once.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>The business was soon arranged, for
+Fing Fang would not refuse his rich
+nephew a seat in his boat. But he, like
+every one else, was disgusted at Chang
+Wang&rsquo;s meanness; and as soon as the
+dealer had left his hovel, thus spoke Fing
+Fang to his sons, Ko and Jung:&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Here&rsquo;s a fellow who has scraped up
+money enough to build a second Porcelain
+Tower, and he comes here to beg a
+free passage in a fishing-boat from an
+uncle whom he has never so much as
+asked to share a dish of his birds&rsquo;-nests
+soup!&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Birds&rsquo;-nests soup, indeed!&rdquo; exclaimed
+Ko; &ldquo;why, Chang Wang never indulges
+in luxuries such as that. If dogs&rsquo; flesh
+were not so cheap, he&rsquo;d grudge himself
+the paw of a roasted puppy!&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;And what will Chang Wang make of
+all his money at last?&rdquo; said Fing Fang,
+more gravely; &ldquo;he cannot carry it away
+with him when he dies.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;O, he&rsquo;s gathering it up for some one
+who will know how to spend it!&rdquo; laughed
+Jung. &ldquo;Chang Wang is merely fishing
+for others; what he gathers, they will
+enjoy.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>It was a bright, pleasant day when
+Chang Wang stepped into the boat of his
+uncle, to drop slowly down the great
+Yang-se-kiang. Many a civil word he
+said to Fing Fang and his sons, for civil
+words cost nothing. Chang Wang sat in
+the boat, twisting the ends of his long
+mustaches, and thinking how much
+money each row of plants in his tea-fields
+might bring him. Presently, having finished
+his calculations, the miser turned
+to watch his relations, who were pursuing
+their fishing occupation in the way peculiar
+to China. Instead of rods, lines, or
+nets, the Fing Fang family was provided
+with trained cormorants, which are a kind
+of bird with a long neck, large appetite,
+and a particular fancy for fish.</p>
+
+<p>It was curious to watch a bird diving
+down in the sunny water, and then suddenly
+come up again with a struggling
+fish in his bill. The fish was, however,
+always taken away from the cormorant,
+and thrown by one of the Fing Fangs
+into a well at the bottom of the boat.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Cousin Ko,&rdquo; said the miser, leaning
+forward to speak, &ldquo;how is it that your
+clever cormorants never devour the fish
+they catch?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Cousin Chang Wang,&rdquo; replied the
+young man, &ldquo;dost thou not see that each
+bird has an iron ring round his neck, so
+that he cannot swallow? He only fishes
+for others.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Methinks the cormorant has a hard
+life of it,&rdquo; observed the miser, smiling.
+&ldquo;He must wish his iron ring at the bottom
+of the Yang-se-kiang.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Fing Fang, who had just let loose two
+young cormorants from the boat, turned
+round, and from his narrow slits of Chinese
+eyes looked keenly upon his nephew.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Didst thou ever hear of a creature,&rdquo;
+said he, &ldquo;that puts an iron ring around
+his own neck?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_78" id="Page_78">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>78]</a></span>
+&ldquo;There is no such creature in all the
+land that the Great Wall borders,&rdquo; replied
+Chang Wang.</p>
+
+<p>Fing Fang solemnly shook the pigtail
+which hung down his back. Like many
+of the Chinese, he had read a great deal,
+and was a kind of philosopher in his way.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Nephew Chang Wang,&rdquo; he observed,
+&ldquo;<em>I</em> know of a creature (and he is not far
+off at this moment) who is always fishing
+for gain&mdash;constantly catching, but never
+enjoying. Avarice&mdash;the love of hoarding&mdash;is
+the iron ring round his neck;
+and so long as it stays there, he is much
+like one of our trained cormorants&mdash;he
+may be clever, active, successful, but he
+is only fishing for others.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>I leave my readers to guess whether
+the sharp dealer understood his uncle&rsquo;s
+meaning, or whether Chang Wang resolved
+in future not only to catch, but to
+enjoy. Fing Fang&rsquo;s moral might be good
+enough for a heathen, but it does not go
+nearly far enough for a Christian. If a
+miser is like a cormorant with an iron
+ring round his neck, the man or the child
+who lives for his own pleasure only, what
+is he but a greedy cormorant with the iron
+ring? Who would wish to resemble a
+cormorant at all? The bird knows the
+enjoyment of <em>getting</em>; let us prize the
+richer enjoyment of <em>giving</em>. Let me
+close with an English proverb, which I
+prefer to the Chinaman&rsquo;s parable&mdash;&ldquo;Charity
+is the truest epicure, for she
+eats with many mouths.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p class="sig">A. L. O. E.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+
+<h2><a name="Page_78lower" id="Page_78lower"></a>SUMMER.</h2>
+
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p class="cap">I&rsquo;M coming along with a bounding pace<br />
+<span class="i2">To finish the work that Spring begun;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">I&rsquo;ve left them all with a brighter face,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">The flowers in the vales through which I&rsquo;ve run.<br /></span></p>
+</div>
+
+<div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">I have hung festoons from laburnum trees,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And clothed the lilac, the birch and broom;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">I&rsquo;ve wakened the sound of humming-bees,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And decked all nature in brighter bloom.<br /></span>
+</div>
+
+<div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">I&rsquo;ve roused the laugh of the playful child,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And tired it out in the sunny noon;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">All nature at my approach hath smiled,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And I&rsquo;ve made fond lovers seek the moon.<br /></span>
+</div>
+
+<div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">For this is my life, my glorious reign,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And I&rsquo;ll queen it well in my leafy bower;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">All shall be bright in my rich domain;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">I&rsquo;m queen of the leaf, the bud and the flower.<br /></span>
+</div>
+
+<div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">And I&rsquo;ll reign in triumph till autumn-time<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Shall conquer my green and verdant pride;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Then I&rsquo;ll hie me to another clime<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Till I&rsquo;m called again as a sunny bride.<br /></span>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_79" id="Page_79">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>79]</a></span></p>
+
+<h2>CHARLIE&rsquo;S CHRISTMAS.</h2>
+
+
+<p><span class="dropcap">O</span>H how cold and miserable everything
+is! Hardly a thought to be
+uppermost on Christmas eve in the mind
+of a little school-boy; and yet it was that
+which filled the mind of Charlie Earle
+on the Christmas eve of which I am
+going to tell you. Only a few hours
+before, he had been as happy as any boy
+could be. Everybody was going home,
+and everybody was in the highest spirits
+and full of the most delightful hopes of
+what the holidays would bring them; and
+now everybody except Charlie has gone
+home, and he is left alone in the dreary
+school-room, knowing that at any rate
+Christmas day, and maybe many other
+days, are to be spent away from home,
+and from all the pleasant doings which
+he had pictured to himself and others
+only the very day before.</p>
+
+<p>The coming of the post-bag had been
+scarcely noticed in the school-room that
+morning. So when old Bunce, the butler,
+looked in at the door and said, &ldquo;Master
+Earle is wanted in the doctor&rsquo;s room,&rdquo; the
+boys all wondered, and Charlie&rsquo;s neighbor
+whispered to him, &ldquo;Whatever can he
+want you for, Earle?&rdquo; The doctor&rsquo;s tale
+was soon told, and it was one which sent
+Charlie back to the school-room with a
+very different face to the one with which
+he had left it. A letter had come to
+Doctor West from Charlie&rsquo;s father, and
+in it a note from his mother to Charlie
+himself, written the night before, and
+saying that a summons had come that
+very morning calling them to Charlie&rsquo;s
+grandmother, who was very ill, and that
+they were starting for Scotland that night
+and would be almost at their journey&rsquo;s
+end when Charlie got the news. The
+note said that Laura, Charlie&rsquo;s sister,
+would go with them, but that they could
+not wait for Charlie himself, so they had
+written to Mrs. Lamb, Charlie&rsquo;s old nurse,
+who lived about ten miles from Dr.
+West&rsquo;s, and had asked her to take charge
+of him for a day or two, till more was
+known of his grandmother&rsquo;s state and
+some better plan could be made for him.
+It was sad enough for Charlie to hear of
+the illness of his kind old grandmother&mdash;sad
+enough to see the merry start of the
+other boys, while he had to stay behind;
+but to have to think of Christmas day
+spent away from father and mother, away
+from Laura and home, was excuse enough
+for a few bitter tears. But unpleasant
+things come to an end as well as pleasant
+ones, and Charlie&rsquo;s lonely waiting in the
+school-room came to its end, and he
+found himself that afternoon snugly
+packed into the Blackridge coach, and
+forgetting his own troubles in listening to
+the cheery chatter of the other passengers,
+and in looking at what was to be seen as
+the coach rolled briskly along the snow-covered
+road. It was quite dark when
+they reached Blackridge, and Charlie
+looked out at the people gathered round
+the door of the &ldquo;Packhorse Inn,&rdquo; and a
+sudden fear filled his mind lest there
+should be no one there to meet him; but
+he soon saw by the light at the inn door
+Nurse Lamb herself, with her kind face
+looking so beaming that it seemed a little
+bit like <em>really</em> going home.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Here, father,&rdquo; said Nurse Lamb to
+her jolly-looking husband; &ldquo;here&rsquo;s Master
+Charlie, safe and sound! You bring the
+luggage in the barrow while I take him
+home quick, for I am sure he must be
+cold.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>And so nurse bustled Charlie off down
+a lane and across a meadow, till they
+came to a wicket-gate, beyond which
+stood the back of a low, deep-thatched
+cottage half buried in snow. On getting
+round to the front the door was opened
+by a little girl, and nurse called out,
+&ldquo;Here, Molly, here we are;&rdquo; adding,
+&ldquo;Molly is my step-daughter, Master
+Charlie&mdash;the one I used to tell you
+about before I was married, when we
+were down at Hastings.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<div class="figcenter ipadtop" style="width: 395px;">
+<img src="images/hd040.jpg" width="395" height="600"
+alt="A snow-covered barn and farmyard" />
+</div>
+
+<p class="caption">WINTER.</p>
+
+<p>When they got into the house, there
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_80" id="Page_80"><!-- Illustration - WINTER --></a></span>
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_81" id="Page_81">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>81]</a></span>
+was the kitchen with its rows of bright
+pewter plates, its wide hearth and roaring
+fire, its hams hanging to the beams, all
+just as they had been described in the
+days when nurse&rsquo;s new home at Blackridge
+Farm was a subject of never-ending
+interest to the two children in Mrs. Earle&rsquo;s
+nursery.</p>
+
+<p>After he had had a capital tea, Charlie
+was allowed to go round with the farmer
+to see that the horses were all right for
+the night, Charlie carrying the lantern
+and feeling himself quite a man as he
+followed the farmer into the stable. There
+was much coming and going at the farm
+that evening, for was it not Christmas eve?
+and nurse was busy sending off gifts to
+neighbors who were not so thriving as
+herself, and busy, too, in making preparations
+for the morrow. Charlie meanwhile
+sat in the settle and made friends
+with Molly, who was about his own age
+and knew much more, though she was
+only a girl, about dogs and rabbits and
+tadpoles than London-bred Charlie. By
+and by they helped to stir the great plum-pudding,
+and dressed the kitchen and
+parlor with evergreens, till nurse called
+them to come and hear the chimes.</p>
+
+<p>And Charlie thought it very beautiful
+as he stood at the door and listened to
+the bells. And as they stood there the
+wind wafted to them also the voices of
+the choir as they went on their round
+through the village, singing their carols;
+and then Charlie went to bed with
+&ldquo;Hark, the herald angels sing!&rdquo; ringing
+in his ears.</p>
+
+<p>Next morning Charlie, as he ran down
+stairs, could hardly believe this was really
+Christmas day, all was so unlike any
+Christmas he had known before; but in
+the kitchen he found one thing like the
+Christmas mornings at home, for he
+found quite a little pile of parcels beside
+his plate, containing the pretty gifts prepared
+by father and mother and Laura,
+and sent by them to nurse, so that at any
+rate the little lad should not be robbed
+of this part of his Christmas pleasures.
+There was a note, too, from mother, saying
+that she and father and Laura were
+safe in Edinburgh, and that grandmother
+was better, and that she hoped
+to tell him in her next letter when they
+and he should meet at home in London.
+Such a bright beginning was enough to
+make all the rest of the day bright; and
+bright it was. Charlie found plenty to do
+till church-time, as Molly showed him all
+the nooks and corners about the farm.</p>
+
+<p>The old church, with its high pews and
+country congregation made Charlie feel
+that he must be dreaming. Surely it
+could not be Christmas, but must be
+the autumn? and he and Laura and
+everybody had come away from London
+for the holidays?</p>
+
+<p>No; it was no dream. It was really
+Christmas; for there, round the pillars,
+were the holly-wreaths with their red
+berries, and there, behind the chancel-screen,
+were the same Christmas texts
+as in their church in London. When
+service was over, Charlie and Molly
+hurried home to help Martha, the farm-girl,
+to have all in readiness for the
+Christmas dinner. But after dinner there
+was not much sitting still&mdash;at any rate for
+Charlie; for who could think of sitting still
+indoors, when outside there were a pond
+covered with ice and a farmyard full of
+horses and dogs?</p>
+
+<p>Nor was the evening after tea without
+its pleasure. When the snow began to
+fall, and the doors and windows were
+tightly closed, then a huge log was piled
+on the fire; and while Farmer and Mrs.
+Lamb sat and talked before it in the
+parlor, Charlie and Molly had a fine
+game of romps in the big kitchen with
+Martha; and when they were tired of
+that, they sat on the hearth and roasted
+chestnuts, while nurse read a Christmas
+tale to them.</p>
+
+<p>And here I must leave Charlie finishing
+his Christmas day, hoping that any
+who read this story of it may agree with
+Charlie in thinking, when he laid his
+head on the pillow that night, that, though
+it had been spent far from home, it had
+not been an unhappy day, after all.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_82" id="Page_82">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>82]</a></span></p>
+
+<div class="figcenter ipadboth" style="width: 584px;">
+<img src="images/hd041.jpg" width="584" height="400"
+alt="Marcellin and the hunter" />
+</div>
+
+<h2>MARCELLIN.</h2>
+
+
+<p><span class="dropcap">M</span>ARCELLIN, a young shepherd
+boy, who tended his father&rsquo;s flock
+upon the mountains, having penetrated a
+deep gorge to search for one of his sheep
+which was missing, discovered in the
+thickest of the forest a man lying upon
+the ground overcome with fatigue, and
+faint from want of food.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;My poor lad,&rdquo; said the man, &ldquo;I am
+dying from hunger and thirst. Two days
+ago I came upon this mountain to hunt.
+I lost my way, and I have passed two
+nights in the woods.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Marcellin drew some bread and cheese
+from his knapsack, and gave to the stranger.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Eat,&rdquo; he said, &ldquo;and then follow me.
+I will conduct you to an old oak tree, in
+the trunk of which we shall find some
+water.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>The food satisfied his hunger; then
+he followed Marcellin, and drank of the
+water, which he found excellent. Afterwards
+the boy conducted him down the
+mountain, and pointed out the way to the
+city.</p>
+
+<p>Then the hunter said to the shepherd
+boy, &ldquo;My good lad, you have saved my
+life. If I had remained in the mountain
+another night, I should have died. I will
+show you my gratitude. Come with me
+to the city. I am rich; and I will treat
+you as if you were my own son.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;No, sir,&rdquo; said Marcellin; &ldquo;I cannot
+go with you to the city. I have a father
+and a mother who are poor, but whom I
+love with all my heart. Were you a king,
+I would not leave my parents.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;But,&rdquo; said the hunter, &ldquo;you live here
+in a miserable cabin with an ugly thatched
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_83" id="Page_83">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>83]</a></span>
+roof; I live in a palace built of marble,
+and surrounded with statues. I will give
+you drink in glasses like crystal, and food
+upon plates of silver.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Very likely,&rdquo; responded Marcellin;
+&ldquo;but our house is not half as miserable
+as you suppose. If it is not surrounded
+with statues, it is among fruit trees and
+trellised vines. We drink water which
+we get from a neighboring fountain. It
+is very clear, though we do not drink from
+crystal cups. We gain by our labor a
+modest living, but good enough. And if
+we do not have silver ware in our house,
+we have plenty of flowers.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Nonsense, my boy! Come with me,&rdquo;
+said the hunter; &ldquo;we have trees and flowers
+in the city more beautiful than yours.
+I have magnificent grounds, with broad
+alleys, with a flower garden filled with the
+most precious plants. In the middle of
+it there is a beautiful fountain, the like
+of which you never saw. The water is
+thrown upward in small streams, and falls
+back sparkling into the great white marble
+basin. You would be quite happy to
+live there.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;But I am quite happy <em>here</em>,&rdquo; replied
+Marcellin. &ldquo;The shade of our forests
+is at least as delicious as that of your
+superb alleys. Our fields are running
+over with flowers. You can hardly step
+without finding them under your feet.
+There are flowers around our cottage&mdash;roses,
+violets, lilies, pansies. Do you
+suppose that our fountains are less beautiful
+than your little jets of water? You
+should see the merry brooks bounding
+down over the rocks, and running away
+through the flowery meadow.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;You don&rsquo;t know what you refuse,&rdquo;
+rejoined the hunter. &ldquo;If you go into the
+city, you will be put to school, where you
+can study all departments of art and science.
+There are theatres, where skilful
+musicians will enchant your ears by harmony.
+There are rich saloons, to which
+you will be admitted, to enjoy splendid
+f&ecirc;tes. And since you so much love the
+country, you shall pass your summer vacation
+with me in a superb chateau which
+I possess.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Well, I am greatly obliged to you,&rdquo;
+replied the shepherd boy; &ldquo;but I think
+I had better stop with father and mother.
+I can learn everything useful in our village
+school. I am taught to fear God, to honor
+my parents, and to imitate their virtues.
+I don&rsquo;t wish to learn anything beyond that.
+Then your musicians, which you tell about,
+do they sing any better than the nightingale
+or the golden robin? Then we have
+our concerts and our f&ecirc;tes. We are right
+down happy when we are all together on
+Sunday evening under the trees. My
+sister sings, while I accompany her upon
+my flute. Our chants can be heard a
+long way off, and echo repeats them.
+And in the evening, when we stay in
+the house, grandfather is with us. We
+love him so much because he is so
+good. No, I will not leave my parents.
+I will not renounce their home, if it is
+humble. I cannot go to the city with
+you.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>The hunter saw that it was of no use
+to argue the point; so he said,&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;What shall I give you, then, to express
+my gratitude for your services?
+Take this purse, filled with gold.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;What need have I of it? We are
+poor, but we want nothing. Besides, if I
+accept your money, I should <em>sell</em> the little
+service I have been able to render. That
+would be wrong; my mother would blame
+me for such conduct. She tells me that
+we ought always to assist those who are
+in trouble and want without expecting pay
+for it.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Generous boy! What shall I give you
+as a mark of my gratitude? You must
+accept something, or I shall be greatly
+disappointed.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Is it so?&rdquo; asked Marcellin, playfully.
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_84" id="Page_84">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>84]</a></span>
+&ldquo;Then give me the cup which is suspended
+at your side&mdash;that one on which
+is engraved a picture of some dogs pursuing
+a stag.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>The hunter joyfully gave the cup to the
+happy shepherd boy, who, having once
+more indicated the way which would lead
+to the city, bade him good day, and went
+back to his flock.</p>
+
+<p>And the rich man returned to his splendid
+dwelling, having learned that it is the
+proper use of the means we have, rather
+than wishing for greater, which brings
+happiness and contentment.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+
+<h2><a name="Page_84lower" id="Page_84lower"></a>AN ADVENTURE IN THE LIFE OF SALVATOR ROSA.</h2>
+
+
+<p><span class="dcapt1"><span class="dcap">T</span></span>HERE is in the museum
+at Florence a
+celebrated painting,
+which calls to mind a
+thrilling adventure of
+Salvator Rosa when
+quite young.</p>
+
+<p>The scene represents
+a solitude, very
+rugged and sublime&mdash;mountains
+upon
+every side, with their
+tops covered with
+snow, while through
+the dark clouds in
+the sky a few straggling
+sunbeams find their way to the valley.
+Upon the border of an immense
+cliff stands a group of men whose costume
+denotes them to be brigands of the
+Apennines. Upon the very edge of the
+precipice, erect and calm, is a young man,
+surrounded by the brigands, who are preparing
+to throw him into the depths below.
+The chief is a short distance away,
+and seemingly about to give the fatal signal.
+A few paces in advance stands a
+female, of strange beauty, waving her
+hand menacingly towards the chief as if
+commanding that the young man&rsquo;s life be
+spared. Her manner, resolute and imperious,
+the countenance of the chief, the
+grateful calmness of the prisoner, all seem
+to indicate that the woman&rsquo;s order will be
+obeyed, and that the victim will be saved
+from the frightful death with which he has
+been menaced.</p>
+
+<p>This picture, as will be readily guessed,
+is the work of <span class="smcap">Salvator Rosa</span>. Born
+at Arenella, near Naples, in 1615, of poor
+parents, he was so admirably endowed by
+nature that, even in his boyhood, he became
+a spirited painter, a good musician,
+and an excellent poet. But his tastes led
+him to give his attention to painting.</p>
+
+<p>Unfortunately, some severe satires
+which he published in Naples made him
+many enemies in that city, and he was
+obliged to fly to Rome, where he took a
+position at once as a painter. Leaving
+that city after a while, he went to Florence,
+and there found a generous encouragement
+and many friends, and there
+his talent was appreciated by the world
+of art.</p>
+
+<p>The environs of Florence afforded him
+superior advantages in developing his
+genius. The Apennines, with their dark
+gorges, their picturesque landscapes, and
+their snow-clad peaks, pleased his wild imagination.
+In their vast recesses he found
+his best inspirations and his most original
+subjects. Often he wandered for days
+over the abrupt mountains, infested with
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_85" id="Page_85">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>85]</a></span>
+bandits, to find work for his ambitious
+pencil.</p>
+
+<p>One day he had advanced farther than
+usual into the profound and dangerous
+solitudes. He sat down near a torrent,
+and began to sketch a wild landscape before
+him. All of a sudden he saw, at the
+summit of a rock near at hand, a man
+leaning upon his carbine, and apparently
+watching him with great curiosity. A
+large hat, with stained and torn brim,
+covered his sun-burnt visage; a leather
+belt bound his dark sack to his body, and
+gave support to a pistol and hunting-knife,
+invariably carried by the brigands of the
+mountains. His black beard, thick and
+untidy, concealed a portion of his face;
+but there could be no doubt that his dark
+glance was fixed upon the stranger who
+came to invade his domain.</p>
+
+<p>For almost any other but our hero, the
+sudden apparition of that wild and menacing
+figure would have been good cause
+of terror. But Salvator was a painter,
+and a painter in love with his art; and he
+had in that strange costume, that forbidding
+look, something so much in harmony
+with the aspect of nature about him, that
+he at once made the man a subject of
+study.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I mustn&rsquo;t lose him,&rdquo; he said; &ldquo;he&rsquo;s
+an inhabitant of the country. He comes
+just in the nick of time to complete my
+landscape; and his position is quite fine.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>And, drawing tranquilly his pencil, he
+began to transfer the outlines of the brigand
+to his album, when the stranger,
+coming a few paces nearer to him, said,
+in a rough voice,&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Who are you, and what are you doing
+here?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Well, my good fellow, I come to take
+your portrait, if you&rsquo;ll hold still a bit,&rdquo; responded
+the painter.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Ah, you jest with me! Have a care,&rdquo;
+said the other, coming still nearer.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;No,&rdquo; replied Salvator, seriously; &ldquo;I
+am a painter; and I wander over these
+mountains with no other purpose but to
+admire these beautiful landscapes, and to
+sketch the most picturesque objects.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;To sketch!&rdquo; cried the brigand, with
+evident anger, hardly knowing what the
+word meant. &ldquo;Do you not know that
+these mountains belong to us? Why do
+you come here to spy us out?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>At these words he gave a shrill whistle,
+and three other men, clothed like himself,
+came towards the spot from different directions.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Seize this man!&rdquo; he said to his companions;
+&ldquo;he comes to observe us.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>All resistance was useless. And so,
+after having tried in vain to prove his innocence,
+the young man was surrounded
+and seized.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;March!&rdquo; cried the man who had
+first met him. &ldquo;You must talk with our
+chief.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>The leader of these brigands was a man
+about forty years of age, named Pietratesta.
+His great physical strength, his
+courage, and, more than all the rest, his
+energy, had made him a favorite among
+his companions, and given him authority
+over them. Famous among the mountains
+for his audacious crimes, condemned
+many times to an outlaw&rsquo;s death, pursued
+in vain by the officers of the law, habituated
+for years to a life of adventure, pillage,
+and murder, he treated his prisoners
+without pity or mercy. All who were unable
+to purchase their liberty by paying
+whatever ransom he fixed, were put to
+death. He looked upon civilized people
+not as men, but as prizes.</p>
+
+<p>As he saw the captive approach, he
+asked the usual question,&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Who are you?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Salvator Rosa, a Neapolitan painter,
+now resident of Florence.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;O, a painter! A poor prize, generally.
+But you are famous, I hear; the
+prince is your friend. Your pictures sell
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_86" id="Page_86">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>86]</a></span>
+for very large prices. You must pay us
+ten thousand ducats.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<div class="figcenter ipadboth" style="width: 518px;">
+<img src="images/hd042.jpg" width="518" height="400"
+alt="Sivora, the chief's wife, standing on the cliff edge" />
+</div>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Ten thousand ducats, indeed! Where
+do you suppose I can get so much?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Well, as for that, if you haven&rsquo;t got
+the money, your friends must get it for
+you.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;But my friends are not rich.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Ah, excuse me!&rdquo; said the chief, smiling.
+&ldquo;When one has a prince for a protector,
+he is always rich.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;It is true that the prince is my patron;
+but he owes me nothing.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;No matter if he don&rsquo;t. He would not
+be deprived of such an artist as you for a
+paltry ten thousand ducats.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;He pays me for my pictures; but he
+will not pay my ransom.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;He <em>must</em>,&rdquo; said the robber, emphatically;
+&ldquo;so no more words. Ask your
+friends, if you prefer, or whoever you
+will; but bring me ten thousand ducats,
+and that within a month; otherwise you
+must die.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>As the chief uttered these words, he
+walked away, leaving Salvator in the middle
+of the ground which formed the camp.</p>
+
+<p>During the short conversation two children
+came from one of the tents, being
+attracted by the noise. Their little blond
+heads, curiously turned towards the captive,
+their faces, tanned by the sun, but
+animated by the crimson of health and
+youth, and their picturesque costume had
+attracted the attention of the painter.
+When the chief had gone away, he approached
+them, and smiled. The children
+drew away abashed; then, reassured by
+the air of goodness which the young man
+wore, they came nearer, and permitted
+him to embrace them.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Are you going to live with us?&rdquo; said
+the eldest, who was about eight years of
+age.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_87" id="Page_87">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>87]</a></span>
+&ldquo;I don&rsquo;t know, my little friend.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;O, I wish you would! It is so nice
+to stop in these mountains. There are
+plenty of beautiful flowers, and birds&rsquo;
+nests, too. I have three already; I will
+show them to you, and then we will go
+and find some more. But what is that
+you have got under your arm?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;It is my sketch-book.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;A sketch-book? What is a sketch-book?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;It is what I carry my pictures in.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Pictures? O, do let me see them!&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Yes, indeed; here they are.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;What pretty pictures! O, mother,
+come and see! Here are mountains, and
+men, and goats. Did you make them all?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Attracted by the call of the child, a lady
+came out of the principal tent. She was
+yet young, tall, and covered with a medley
+of garments from various costumes. Her
+face sparkled with energy, and might have
+been called beautiful. She threw a sad
+glance at Salvator, and approached him
+haughtily, as if to give an order. But
+seeing the two children busily looking
+over the sketch-book, and observing the
+familiar way with which both treated their
+new acquaintance, she appeared to change
+her manner somewhat, and began to look
+at the pictures herself, and to admire them.
+At the end of half an hour the mother and
+the children seemed like old friends of
+Salvator Rosa.</p>
+
+<p>The woman was the wife of the chief.
+A daughter of an honorable family, she
+married a young man at Pisa, her native
+city, who proved to be captain of this
+band of robbers. She could not well
+leave the company into which she had
+been betrayed; and so, with a noble self-denial,
+she became resigned to her hard
+lot. An unwilling witness of the many
+crimes of her husband and his companions,
+she suffered cruelly in her resignation.
+Yet her fidelity, her virtue,&mdash;things
+rarely known, but sometimes respected
+among these mountain brigands,&mdash;had
+given her a moral power over the men as
+well as over her husband. More than once
+she had used this means to temper their
+ferocity, and obtain pardon for their unfortunate
+prisoners.</p>
+
+<p>Just then one of the brigands came and
+brought to the prisoner the order from the
+chief that he should write to his friends
+to obtain money for his ransom. The
+man was going, under a disguise, to the
+city of Florence; and he offered to deliver
+any letters intrusted to his care. He indicated
+the place where the ten thousand
+ducats must be left, so that Salvator might
+inform his correspondent.</p>
+
+<p>Our hero had many devoted friends;
+but nearly all were artists like himself,
+and without fortune. Nevertheless, he
+decided to write to one of them. He gave
+orders that all the pictures in his studio
+should be sold. He hoped that the money
+which they would bring, together with
+what his friends could advance to him,
+would amount to the sum demanded by
+the chief.</p>
+
+<p>This done, Salvator easily persuaded
+himself that he should soon be set at liberty,
+and the artist recovered his unconcern,
+and almost his usual good spirits.
+The country around him was full of romantic
+studies for his pencil. He had,
+besides, found in the society of the children
+of Pietratesta two charming companions.
+He instructed them in the elements
+of his art; and his pupils, to both
+of whom the study was quite new, seemed
+never to grow tired of their task.</p>
+
+<p>In a moment of good humor, he drew
+caricatures of each member of the band,
+which created a great deal of amusement.
+Then he drew, with great care, the portraits
+of the two children. This attention
+profoundly touched the heart of the mother,
+and her tender sympathy, almost wasting
+among these unfeeling men, found a
+secret pleasure in rendering the captivity
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_88" id="Page_88">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>88]</a></span>
+of the young painter less unhappy and
+less hard. She conversed with him familiarly,
+and it gave her great pleasure to
+see the care which he took to instruct her
+children.</p>
+
+<p>So Salvator Rosa, to whom the band
+gave quite a considerable degree of liberty,
+never dreamed of taking improper
+advantage of it. Thanks to his fancy and
+his recklessness as an artist, he almost
+forgot that he was the prisoner of a cruel
+master, and that his life was in peril.</p>
+
+<p>But the ransom, which he had sent for,
+came not. Whether the letters he had
+written failed to reach their destination,
+or whether his friends were deaf to his
+request for assistance, he received no
+answer. He wrote repeatedly, but always
+with the same result.</p>
+
+<p>And so the months slipped by, and the
+chief began to grow impatient at the long
+delay. His wife had more than once
+calmed his anger, and prevented any catastrophe.
+At length several weeks went
+by, in which the expeditions of the band
+were unfruitful. The provisions were
+running low, and Pietratesta saw in his
+captive one unprofitable mouth. Sivora,
+his wife, felt her influence to be growing
+weaker and weaker under the increasing
+destitution and continued delay.</p>
+
+<p>One day Pietratesta encountered his
+prisoner, and, addressing him in an irritated
+voice,&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Well?&rdquo; he said, as if his question
+needed no other explanation.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Nothing yet,&rdquo; responded Salvator
+Rosa, sadly.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Ah, this is too much!&rdquo; cried the
+brigand. &ldquo;I begin to think you are playing
+with me. But do you know the
+price Pietratesta makes those pay who
+cross him?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Alas! I am far from trying to deceive
+you. You know that I have done
+all in my power to obtain my ransom. I
+have written to various persons; your
+own men have taken my letters. You
+see that it is not my fault.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;It is always the fault of prisoners
+when their ransom is not paid.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Wait a little longer. I will write
+again to-day.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Wait! wait! A whole year, month
+after month, has gone by, and you repeat
+the same old story. A year&mdash;an age for
+me&mdash;I have waited. Do you think I
+have been making unmeaning threats?
+Do you expect to abuse my patience
+with impunity? It has given out at last&mdash;the
+more so as,&rdquo; added he, now that
+he felt his anger increasing, &ldquo;I ought to
+have settled this affair a long while ago.
+This is your last day, observe me.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>At a sign from their chief, four bandits
+seized the young man, and bound him.
+As Salvator was led away, he cast one
+sad look at the dwelling where he had
+passed many happy hours, and from
+which he was going to his death. For a
+moment he stopped to say farewell to the
+children, who were standing at the door
+crying and stretching out their little naked
+brown arms towards him.</p>
+
+<p>A few moments later, Sivora, who had
+been gathering flowers in the mountains,
+returned home. Observing that her husband,
+as well as Salvator, was absent,
+and her children in tears, she guessed the
+painful truth.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Where is Salvator?&rdquo; she asked of
+the eldest.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;They have bound him, and carried
+him away,&rdquo; responded the child, still
+crying.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Which way?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Down yonder,&rdquo; was the reply of the
+child, pointing with its finger in the direction
+of a rocky cliff already too well known
+for its horrible scenes.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Alas, wretched man!&rdquo; exclaimed
+Sivora, almost frantically, as she comprehended
+the new crime her husband
+was about to commit. She sat down for
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_89" id="Page_89">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>89]</a></span>
+a moment, covered her face with her
+hands&mdash;a prey to the most unspeakable
+anxiety. Then, rising suddenly, her eyes
+flashing with determination,&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Come!&rdquo; she said, resolutely; &ldquo;come,
+my children. Perhaps we may yet be in
+time.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>And, taking the hands of her little
+ones, who followed her with difficulty,
+but yet eagerly, she darted away at a
+rapid pace in the direction taken by the
+brigands.</p>
+
+<p>While the men were hurrying Salvator
+along, the chief maintained a profound
+silence. His band followed him as dumb
+as slaves who go to execute the will of
+their master, which they know is law.
+They soon arrived at the summit of a
+cliff, which overhung a yawning abyss
+beneath. After having taken one look
+over the precipice, and examined the
+neighborhood rapidly, Pietratesta cried,
+&ldquo;Halt!&rdquo; and the whole body came to a
+rest.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;There is just a quarter of an hour
+for you to live,&rdquo; he said, turning to his
+prisoner. &ldquo;You have time to die like a
+Christian. Make your prayer.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>The young man hesitated for a moment,
+threw his agitated eyes around, then,
+kneeling on the rock, he prayed earnestly.
+The men stood unmoved, as if they had
+been statues cut from stone.</p>
+
+<p>Salvator rose, with a calm demeanor,
+and said, addressing the chief in a firm
+tone,&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;My life is in your hands, I know.
+You are going to kill me without any
+cause. I have prayed,&rdquo; he added, with a
+voice full of authority, &ldquo;for the salvation
+of my soul, and repentance for thine.
+God will judge us both. I am ready.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Immediately the brigands seized the
+young man, and hurried him towards the
+precipice. Already they waited but the
+signal of their chief, already Pietratesta
+had given the fatal command, when a cry
+was heard not many paces distant, which
+suspended the preparations.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Stop!&rdquo; exclaimed a harsh voice.</p>
+
+<p>The bandits, astonished at the interruption,
+turned to see whence it came. A woman
+ran towards them, her hair in disorder,
+her countenance pale and agitated,
+her dark eyes flashing with determination.
+She held by their hands two children,
+who, with weeping eyes, were hastening,
+with all the speed their young limbs
+could carry them, towards the precipice.</p>
+
+<p>It was Sivora.</p>
+
+<p>As she came forward the chief uttered
+an exclamation of disappointment and
+anger.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Why do you come here?&rdquo; he asked,
+in an irritated voice.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;You know well enough,&rdquo; responded
+Sivora, without any sign of intimidation.
+&ldquo;What are you about to do? What is
+the crime of this young man? What is
+the wrong he has committed? You know
+he is innocent, and that it is not his fault
+that the price of his ransom has not been
+paid. Why commit a useless crime?
+You have too many on your soul already,&rdquo;
+she added, in a low, sad voice.
+&ldquo;Since it is not too late, let the young
+man go. His ransom is not absolutely
+necessary. If it was, would his death
+bring it to you? Remember with what
+care and solicitude he has treated your
+children! with what patience he has instructed
+them in his art! See, they weep,
+as if their hearts would break, at the
+wrong you would do their friend! It is
+they&mdash;it is I&mdash;who ask clemency. You
+will not kill Salvator; you will pardon
+him for the love you bear your children.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>As she said these words she pushed
+the two little blond heads into the arms
+of their father.</p>
+
+<p>The brigands, hesitating, touched, without
+knowing why, struck with an involuntary
+respect for the woman, remained
+immovable, with their eyes fixed upon
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_90" id="Page_90">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>90]</a></span>
+their chief, as if waiting to ascertain his
+wishes. He stood, brooding, nervous, his
+eyes bent upon the ground, hardly daring
+to look upon Sivora, at once his suppliant
+and accuser, a prey to violent emotions.
+The authority of that respected
+voice, and the irritation at being deprived
+of his revenge,&mdash;the invincible love he
+had for the woman, and the shame of giving
+way before his men,&mdash;all these warring
+considerations, the effects of which
+were plainly to be seen on his swarthy
+face, spoke of the severe contest going
+on within.</p>
+
+<p>At length his evil genius got the control.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;What do I care for his solicitude and
+his tenderness?&rdquo; he said, in a coarse
+voice. &ldquo;He would forget all as soon as
+he should get out of our hands; and he
+would, no doubt, send the police after us
+if we should let him go. I know what
+the promises of captives are worth. Besides,
+<em>I</em> command here, I alone, and I
+will be obeyed. Take away these children;
+and you, comrades, despatch your
+your prisoner.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Ah! is it so?&rdquo; exclaimed Sivora, in
+a piercing voice, throwing herself before
+the bandits, who were pushing their victim
+towards the chasm. &ldquo;Then I will
+beg no more; I <em>command</em> now. Listen
+to me well, for these are my last words.
+You know with what devotion, with what
+resignation, I have supported this bitter
+life which you brought me to among
+these mountains. The isolation, the sorrow,
+the shame, I have endured for thee.
+I have never complained. I hoped, after
+such sacrifices, you would at length listen
+to my words, and renounce your bad
+life. But since you do not care for my
+devotion, since I am nothing to you, listen
+well to my words, Pietratesta. If
+you dare to commit this odious crime,
+look for a mother for your children, for,
+with your victim, you will slay your wife!&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>So saying, she advanced close to the
+brink of the cliff, over which she could
+spring at the signal from her husband.</p>
+
+<p>Salvator, motionless and rooted to the
+spot, in silence, full of anxiety, observed
+this strange scene. The robbers, hardened
+by crime, for the first time hesitated
+at the command of their chief, and
+fixed their eyes upon the beautiful woman
+to whom despair added a new charm.
+They quailed before her authority, and
+stood as motionless as statues.</p>
+
+<p>Pietratesta, overwhelmed by the recollections
+which the woman&rsquo;s words awakened,
+alarmed at her threats and her
+resolution, hung his head, like a guilty
+wretch before a just judge, while Sivora,
+with wild countenance, piercing voice,
+and imperial manner, her long black hair
+loosely falling upon her shoulders, with
+her arms extended towards the abyss,
+almost resembled an ancient goddess,
+who suddenly appears at the moment of
+crime, arrests the homicidal arm, and subjects
+the criminal to punishment. There
+was in her figure an imposing grandeur,
+before which the rude men, for an instant
+recalled to themselves, felt humiliated and
+condemned.</p>
+
+<p>Astounded by that firmness and devotion,
+ashamed of his violence towards the
+woman who was living a life of outrage,
+the chief, after some moments of moody
+silence, said, in an altered voice,&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;You wish it! He is free!&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Salvator threw himself upon his knees
+before his preserver, covered her hand
+with kisses and tears, and pressed, with
+transport, the two children in his arms.
+Completely wild with happiness and gratitude,
+he abandoned himself to the buoyancy
+of his generous nature, when Sivora
+said to him, in a whisper,&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Go! go quickly! The tiger is only
+sleeping!&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>They put a bandage over the eyes of
+the young man, so that he might not see
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_91" id="Page_91">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>91]</a></span>
+the path by which he descended from the
+mountains, and two of the brigands then
+conducted him to the highway which led
+to the city.</p>
+
+<p>Hardly had he entered Florence, yet
+sad from the recollection of the scene in
+which he came near being a victim, when
+the young painter hastily sketched the
+principal details; and, some time after,
+the picture of which we have spoken was
+composed, and hangs this day in the museum
+at Naples, admired and pointed out
+to all visitors.</p>
+
+<p class="sig">L. D. L.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+
+<h2><a name="Page_91lower" id="Page_91lower"></a>WE SHOULD HEAR THE ANGELS SINGING.</h2>
+
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p class="cap">IF we only sought to brighten<br />
+<span class="i2">Every pathway dark with care,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">If we only tried to lighten<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">All the burdens others bear,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">We should hear the angels singing<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">All around us, night and day;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">We should feel that they were winging<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">At our side their upward way!<br /></span></p>
+</div>
+
+<div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">If we only strove to cherish<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Every pure and holy thought,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Till within our hearts should perish<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">All that is with evil fraught,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">We should hear the angels singing<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">All around us, night and day;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">We should feel that they were winging<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">At our side their upward way!<br /></span>
+</div>
+
+<div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">If it were our aim to ponder<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">On the good that we might win,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Soon our feet would cease to wander<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">In forbidden paths of sin;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">We should hear the angels singing<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">All around us, night and day;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">We should feel that they were winging<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">At our side their upward way!<br /></span>
+</div>
+
+<div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">If we only did our duty,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Thinking not what it might cost,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Then the earth would wear new beauty<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Fair as that in Eden lost;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">We should hear the angels singing<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">All around us, night and day;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">We should feel that they were winging<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">At our side their upward way!<br /></span>
+</div>
+
+<p class="poet smcap">Kate Cameron.</p>
+</div>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_92" id="Page_92">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>92]</a></span></p>
+
+<h2>MY LITTLE HERO.</h2>
+
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p class="cap">HOW we wish that we knew a hero!&rdquo;<br />
+<span class="i3">Say the children, pressing round;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">&ldquo;Will you tell us if such a wonder<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">In London streets can be found?&rdquo;<br /></span></p>
+</div>
+
+<div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">I point from my study-window<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">At a lad who is passing by:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">&ldquo;My darlings, there goes a hero;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">You will know his oft-heard cry.&rdquo;<br /></span>
+</div>
+
+<div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">&ldquo;&rsquo;Tis the chimney-sweep, dear father,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">In his jacket so worn and old;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">What can <em>he</em> do that is brave and true,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Wandering out in the cold?&rdquo;<br /></span>
+</div>
+
+<div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Says Maudie, &ldquo;I thought that a hero<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Was a man with a handsome face.&rdquo;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">&ldquo;And I pictured him all in velvet dressed,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">With a sword,&rdquo; whispered little Grace.<br /></span>
+</div>
+
+<div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">&ldquo;Mine is only a &lsquo;sweeper,&rsquo; children,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">His deeds all unnoticed, unknown;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Yet I think he is one of the heroes<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">God sees and will mark for his own.<br /></span>
+</div>
+
+<div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">&ldquo;Out there he looks eager and cheerful,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">No matter how poorly he fares;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">No sign that his young heart is heavy<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">With the weight of unchildish cares.<br /></span>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_93" id="Page_93">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>93]</a></span></p>
+
+<div class="figcenter ipadtop" style="width: 435px;">
+<img src="images/hd043.jpg" width="435" height="600"
+alt="The little chimney sweep, with his ragged clothes and brush" />
+</div>
+
+<p class="caption">MY LITTLE HERO.</p>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_94" id="Page_94">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>94]</a></span>
+<span class="i0">&ldquo;Home means to him but a dingy room,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">A father he shudders to see;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Alas for the worse than neglected sons<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Who have such a father as he!<br /></span>
+</div>
+
+<div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">&ldquo;And a mother who lies on a ragged bed,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">So sick and worn and sad;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">No friend has she but this one pale boy&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">This poor little sweeper-lad,<br /></span>
+</div>
+
+<div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">&ldquo;So rough to others, and all unskilled,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Yet to her most tender and true,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Oft waking with patient cheerfulness<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">To soothe her the whole night through.<br /></span>
+</div>
+
+<div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">&ldquo;He wastes no time on his own scant meals,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">But goes forth with the morning sun;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Never a moment is wasted<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Till his long day&rsquo;s work is done.<br /></span>
+</div>
+
+<div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">&ldquo;Then home to the dreary attic<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Where his mother lies lonely all day,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Unheeding the boys who would tempt him<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">To linger with them and play.<br /></span>
+</div>
+
+<div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">&ldquo;Because she is helpless and lonely,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">He is doing a hero&rsquo;s part;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">For loving and self-denying<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Are the tests of a noble heart.&rdquo;<br /></span>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_95" id="Page_95">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>95]</a></span></p>
+
+<div class="figcenter ipadboth" style="width: 400px;">
+<img src="images/hd044.jpg" width="400" height="400"
+alt="A robin sits on a snowy branch" />
+</div>
+
+<h2>ROBIN REDBREAST.</h2>
+
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p class="cap">ROBIN, Robin Redbreast,<br />
+<span class="i3">O, Robin, dear!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And what will this poor Robin do?<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">For pinching days are near.<br /></span></p>
+</div>
+
+<div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">The fireside for the cricket,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">The wheat-stack for the mouse,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">When trembling night winds whistle,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And moan all round the house.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The frosty way like iron,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">The branches plumed with snow&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Alas! in winter, dead and dark,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Where can poor Robin go?<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Robin, Robin Redbreast,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">O, Robin dear!<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And a crumb of bread for Robin,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">His little heart to cheer.<br /></span>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_96" id="Page_96">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>96]</a></span></p>
+
+<h2>HOW SWEETIE&rsquo;S &ldquo;SHIP CAME IN.&rdquo;</h2>
+
+<p class="center">A CHRISTMAS STORY.</p>
+
+
+<p><span class="dropcap">I</span>T will be a real honest story&mdash;of how
+Christmas came to a poor cold home,
+and made it bright, and warm, and glad.
+A <em>very</em> poor home it was, up three flights
+of worm-eaten, dirt-stained stairs, in the
+old gray house that stood far up a narrow,
+crooked alley, where the sun never shone
+except just a while in the middle of the
+day. He tried hard to brighten up the
+place a little, but the tall houses all about
+prevented him. Still he slanted a few
+golden beams even into that wretched
+home away up under the eaves; for
+though the few small panes of glass in
+the narrow windows had been mostly
+broken out, and their places filled with
+boards nailed tight to keep out the wintry
+winds, and rain, and snow, still there
+were some left through which a feeble
+ray did sometimes creep and make glad
+the hearts of the children. Five fatherless
+children lived with their mother in
+that old garret. Night and day the mother
+sewed, taking scarcely any rest, and
+yet found it hard to keep all the little toes
+and knees covered, and could get only the
+poorest food for the five hungry mouths.
+The thought that, work never so hard, she
+could not earn enough to give them one
+hearty, satisfying meal, made her heart
+ache.</p>
+
+<p>Three boys and two girls, in one old
+naked room, with only their mother to
+care for them, and she so poor, that for
+years she had not had a new gown, or a
+new bonnet! Yet she liked pretty new
+clothes, as well as any one ever did, I know.</p>
+
+<p>Of these five little folks, the oldest was
+Harry, the newsboy; then came Katie,
+and Willie, and Fred, and, last of all, wee
+Jennie.</p>
+
+<p>Though Harry was the oldest, yet <em>he</em>
+was not very old. Just twelve&mdash;a thin,
+white little fellow, with eyes that always
+looked as if they wanted more. More what?
+Well, more sunshine; more warm clothes,
+and bright, hot fires, and, O, very much
+more to eat! Sometimes he would make
+fifty cents in a day, selling newspapers,
+and then he would hurry joyfully home,
+thinking of the hungry little mouths it
+would help to fill. But some days he would
+hardly earn ten cents the whole long day.
+Then he would go slowly and sadly
+along, wishing all sorts of things&mdash;that
+he could take home as much meat as he
+could carry to the little ones who had not
+eaten meat for so long they had almost
+forgotten how it tasted; or that the gentlemen,
+who owned the clothing stores
+which he was passing, would say to him,
+&ldquo;Come in, my little fellow, and help yourself
+to as many warm clothes as you want
+for yourself and your little brothers at
+home;&rdquo; or that he could find a heap of
+money&mdash;and his mouth would water,
+thinking of the good things which he
+could buy and take home with some of it.</p>
+
+<p>The other children always knew whether
+it had been a good or bad day with
+Harry, by the way he came up the stairs.
+If he came with a hop, skip, and a jump,
+they knew it meant a good day; and a
+good day for Harry was a good evening
+for them all.</p>
+
+<p>Though Katie was really the name of
+the second child, she hardly ever was
+called so; for her mother, and the children,
+and all the neighbors, called her
+Sweetie, she was so good and so thoughtful
+for others, so sweet-tempered and
+kind. She did everything so gently that
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_97" id="Page_97">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>97]</a></span>
+none of them could ever love her half as
+much as she deserved. Though only ten
+years old, and very small and pale, she
+did every bit of the housework, and kept
+the ugly old room and its faded furniture
+so neat, that it seemed almost home-like
+and pretty to them all. It was happiness
+enough for the little ones to get her first
+kiss when she came back from an errand,
+to sit by her at table, and, above all, to
+lie closest to her at night. Willie, and
+Fred, and Jennie, all slept with her on a
+straw bed in the corner; and they used
+to try to stretch her little arms over them
+all, so that even the one farthest off might
+feel the tips of her fingers, so dearly did
+they love her.</p>
+
+<p>They had once owned more than one
+bedstead, and many other comfortable
+things besides; but when their father
+was killed at the great factory where he
+worked, their mother was obliged to sell
+almost everything to get enough money
+to pay for his funeral, and to help support
+her little family; so that now she had
+only a narrow wooden settee for her bed,
+while Harry stretched himself on a couple
+of chairs, and the rest slept all together
+in the bed on the floor. Poor as they
+were, they were not very unhappy. Almost
+every night, when their mother took
+the one dim candle all to herself, so that
+she could see to sew neatly, Sweetie
+would amuse the other children by telling
+them beautiful stories about the little
+flower people, and the good fairies, and
+about Kriss Kringle&mdash;though how she
+knew about him I can&rsquo;t tell, for he never
+came down their chimney at Christmas.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;And, when my ship comes in,&rdquo;
+Sweetie used to say, &ldquo;I&rsquo;ll have the tallest
+and handsomest Christmas tree, filled
+to the top with candies and toys, and
+lighted all over with different-colored candles,
+and we&rsquo;ll sing and dance round it.
+Let&rsquo;s begin now, and get our voices in
+tune.&rdquo; Then they would all pipe up as
+loud as they could, and were as happy as
+if they half believed Sweetie&rsquo;s ship was
+ready to land.</p>
+
+<p>But there came a hard year for poor
+needle-women: it was the year I am
+writing about, and Sweetie&rsquo;s mother
+found it almost impossible to get even
+the necessaries of life. Her children&rsquo;s
+lips were bluer, their faces more pinched,
+and thin, threadbare clothes more patched
+than ever. Sweetie used to take the two
+boys, and hunt in the streets for bits of
+coal and wood; but often, the very coldest
+days, they would have no fire. It was
+very hard to bear, and especially for the
+poor mother, who still had to toil on,
+though she was so chilled, and her hands
+so numbed, she could hardly draw her
+needle through her work; and for Harry,
+who trudged through the streets from
+daylight until the street lamps were
+lighted.</p>
+
+<p>The day before Christmas came. People
+were so busy cooking Christmas
+dainties that they did not stop to sift
+their cinders very carefully, and Sweetie
+and the boys had picked up quite a large
+bag full of half-burnt coal in the alleys,
+and were carrying it home as carefully as
+if it were a great treasure&mdash;as, indeed, it
+was to them. Being very tired, they sat
+down to rest on the curbstone in front of
+an elegant mansion. One of the long
+windows was open.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Let&rsquo;s get close up under the window,&rdquo;
+said Sweetie. &ldquo;I guess it&rsquo;s too warm
+inside, and may be we shall get some of
+the heat. O! O! don&rsquo;t it smell good?&rdquo;
+she cried, as the savory odors of the
+Christmas cooking stole out upon the air.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;What is it, Sweetie?&rdquo; whispered
+Willie.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Coffee,&rdquo; said Sweetie, &ldquo;and turkeys,
+and jelly, perhaps.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I wish I had some,&rdquo; sighed Freddy,
+&ldquo;I&rsquo;m so cold and hungry!&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Poor little man! he must come and
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_98" id="Page_98">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>98]</a></span>
+sit in Sweetie&rsquo;s lap; that will make him
+warmer,&rdquo; said his sister, wrapping her
+shawl around him.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Yes; that&rsquo;s nice,&rdquo; said the little fellow,
+hugging her tight.</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Rogers, the owner of this fine house,
+had lost his wife and two dear children
+within the year. He lived here alone,
+with his servants, and was very desolate.
+When the children stopped under his
+window, he was lying on a velvet sofa
+near it, and, lifting himself up, he peeped
+out from behind the curtains just as Fred
+crept into his sister&rsquo;s arms; and he heard
+all they said.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;When your ship comes in, Sweetie,
+will it have turkeys and jellies in it?&rdquo;
+said Willie, leaning against her.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Yes, indeed,&rdquo; said Sweetie. &ldquo;There
+will be turkeys almost as big as Jennie,
+and a great deal fatter.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;But it&rsquo;s so long coming, Sweetie;
+you tell us every time it <em>will</em> come, and
+it never <em>comes</em> at all.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;O, no, Freddy. I don&rsquo;t ever say it <em>will</em>
+come, but it&rsquo;s nice to think what we would
+do if it should come&mdash;isn&rsquo;t it?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;We&rsquo;d buy a great white house, like
+this&mdash;wouldn&rsquo;t we, Sweetie?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;No, Willie. I&rsquo;d rather buy that nice
+little store over by the church, that&rsquo;s been
+shut up so long, and has FOR SALE on
+the door. I&rsquo;d furnish it all nice, and fill the
+shelves with beautiful goods, and trimmings
+for ladies&rsquo; dresses, and lovely toys.
+It shows so far that everybody would be
+sure to buy their Christmas things there.
+It&rsquo;s just the dearest little place, with two
+cosy rooms back of the shop, and three
+overhead; and I&rsquo;d put flour and sugar,
+and tea and coffee, and all sorts of goodies,
+in the kitchen cupboard, and new
+clothes for all of us in the closets up
+stairs. Then I&rsquo;d kindle a fire, and light
+the lamps, and lock the door, and go
+back to the dreary old garret once more&mdash;poor
+mother would be sitting there,
+sad and sober, as she always is now, and
+I would say to her, &lsquo;Come, mother, before
+you light the candle, Jennie and I want
+you to go with us, and look at the lovely
+Christmas gifts in the shop windows.&rsquo;
+Then she&rsquo;d say, sorrowfully, &lsquo;I don&rsquo;t
+want to see them, dear; I can&rsquo;t buy any
+of them for you, and I don&rsquo;t want to
+look at them.&rsquo; But I&rsquo;d tease her till I
+made her go; and I&rsquo;d leave Harry, who
+would know all about it beforehand, to
+lock up the dismal old room, and bring
+all the rest of you over to the new house.
+You&rsquo;d get there long before we did, and
+the light would be streaming out from the
+little shop windows&mdash;O, so bright!
+&lsquo;Mother,&rsquo; I&rsquo;d say, &lsquo;let&rsquo;s go in here, and
+buy the cotton you wanted;&rsquo; and when I
+got her in, I&rsquo;d shut the door quick, and
+dance up and down, and say, &lsquo;Dear mother.
+Sweetie&rsquo;s ship&rsquo;s come in, and brought
+you this new home, and everything comfortable;
+and Sweetie will tend the shop,
+and you needn&rsquo;t sew any more day and
+night, for it&rsquo;s going to be&mdash;&rsquo; &lsquo;A Merry
+Christmas and a Happy New Year for us&mdash;every
+one!&rsquo; Harry and all of you would
+shout, and our dear mother would cry for
+joy.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Will it come to pass soon, Sweetie?&rdquo;
+asked both the boys at once.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Not very, I&rsquo;m afraid,&rdquo; answered
+Sweetie, in a subdued tone; but, when
+she saw their look of disappointment, she
+brightened up in a moment, and added,
+&ldquo;It&rsquo;ll be all the better, when it does come,
+for waiting so long&mdash;but look here! To-night
+is Christmas Eve, and we&rsquo;ve got
+coal enough here to make a splendid fire.
+We won&rsquo;t light it till dark, and then it will
+last us all the evening. And I&rsquo;ve got a
+great secret to tell you: Harry made a
+whole dollar yesterday, and mother is going
+to give us each three big slices of fried
+mush, and bread besides, for supper;
+and, after supper, I&rsquo;ll tell you the prettiest
+story you ever heard, and we&rsquo;ll sing
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_99" id="Page_99"><!-- Illustration - HOW SWEETIE'S SHIP CAME IN --></a></span>
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_100" id="Page_100">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>100]</a></span>
+every song we know, and I guess we&rsquo;ll
+have a merry Christmas if nobody else
+does.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<div class="figcenter ipadtop" style="width: 388px;">
+<img src="images/hd045.jpg" width="388" height="600"
+alt="Sweetie and two of the boys outside in the cold" />
+</div>
+
+<p class="caption">HOW SWEETIE&rsquo;S SHIP CAME IN.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I wish it was Christmas all the time,&rdquo;
+said Freddy, faintly.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Christ was born that day,&rdquo; said
+Sweetie, softly, &ldquo;and that makes it best
+of all.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Yes,&rdquo; said Willie; &ldquo;the dear Lord
+who came from Heaven and, for our
+sakes, became poor, and had not where
+to lay his head, not even a garret as
+good as ours&mdash;&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I know,&rdquo; said Freddy; &ldquo;he was born
+in a manger, and a beautiful star shined
+right over it. I can sing a hymn about it.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Then they picked up their bag, and
+started for home, gay as larks over the
+prospect of the treat they were to have
+that night&mdash;fried mush and a fire! that
+was all, you know.</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Rogers, concealed by the heavy
+silk curtains, had heard every word they
+said, and his eyes were full of tears. He
+rang for his servant.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Harris,&rdquo; said he, when the man came
+in, &ldquo;follow those children, find out where
+they live, and what their neighbors say
+of the family.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>When he was left alone again, he began
+to think,&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Rich as I am, I have never yet done
+any great good to anybody. Who knows
+but God may have sent those children
+under my window to teach me that, instead
+of my own lost darlings, he means
+me to care for these and other suffering
+little ones who live in the lanes and alleys
+of this great city!&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Harris soon came back, and told his
+master what he had learned about the circumstances
+of the family; and he added,&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Everybody calls the oldest girl Sweetie,
+and they do say she&rsquo;s as good as gold.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Rogers went out, and, before night,
+had bought the little corner store, for
+which Sweetie had longed. Then, calling
+his servants together, he related what
+he had overheard the children say, and
+told them how anxious he was to grant
+Sweetie&rsquo;s wish, and let her take her
+mother to her new home on Christmas
+Day.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;But I cannot do it,&rdquo; said Mr. Rogers,
+&ldquo;unless you are willing to help me work
+on Christmas Eve, for there is a great
+deal to be done.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>No one could refuse to aid in so good
+a cause; and besides, Mr. Rogers was
+always so considerate of his servants
+that they were glad to oblige him. They
+all went to work with a will, and soon the
+little house and store were put in perfect
+order.</p>
+
+<p>There were ribbons, laces, buttons,
+needles, pins, tapes, and, indeed, all sorts
+of useful things in the store. In the cellar
+were coal and wood, two whole hams,
+a pair of chickens, and a turkey. The
+kitchen pantry was stocked with sugar
+and flour. There was one barrel of potatoes,
+and another of the reddest apples.
+Up stairs the closets and bureaus were
+bursting with nice things to wear, not
+quite made into garments, but ready to
+be made, as soon as Sweetie and her
+mother got time.</p>
+
+<p>So rapidly and so completely was everything
+arranged, that it seemed as if
+one of those good fairies, of whom Sweetie
+had so often told the children, had been
+at work.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;The money this has cost me,&rdquo; thought
+Mr. Rogers, &ldquo;will make a family of six
+happy, and do them good all the rest of
+their lives. I am glad the thought has
+come to my heart to celebrate Christ&rsquo;s
+birthday in so pleasant a way.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Late in the afternoon he picked his way
+through the dull, dirty alley to the old
+gray house where Sweetie lived. As he
+went up the worn and dusty stairway,
+he heard the children singing their Christmas
+songs.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_101" id="Page_101">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>101]</a></span>
+&ldquo;Poor little things!&rdquo; said he; and the
+tears stood in his eyes. &ldquo;Happy even
+in this miserable place, while I know so
+many surfeited with luxuries, and yet
+pining and discontented!&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Harry jumped to open the door as he
+knocked; and Mr. Rogers, entering, apologized
+to the children&rsquo;s mother for his
+intrusion by saying he had come to ask a
+favor.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;It is but little we can do for any one,
+sir,&rdquo; replied Mrs. Lawson; &ldquo;but anything
+in our power will be cheerfully done.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Even if I propose to carry off this
+little girl of yours for a while?&rdquo; he
+asked; but, seeing the troubled look in
+the other children&rsquo;s faces, he hastened to
+explain.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;The truth is,&rdquo; said he, &ldquo;having no
+little folks of my own, I thought I&rsquo;d try
+and make other people&rsquo;s happy to-day;
+so I set out to get up a Christmas tree;
+but I find I don&rsquo;t know how to go to
+work exactly, and I want Sweetie to
+help me.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>He spoke so sadly when he said he
+had no children of his own, that Sweetie
+could not refuse to go.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;O, yes, sir,&rdquo; said she; &ldquo;I&rsquo;ll go;
+that is, if I may come back this evening&mdash;for
+I couldn&rsquo;t disappoint Freddy and
+all of them, you know!&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;They shan&rsquo;t be disappointed, I promise
+you,&rdquo; said Mr. Rogers, as he took her
+down stairs.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Why, I never was in a carriage in all
+my life,&rdquo; said Sweetie, as he lifted her
+into his beautiful clarence, and sat down
+beside her.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I shouldn&rsquo;t wonder if you should ride
+in a carriage pretty often now,&rdquo; said Mr.
+Rogers, &ldquo;for your ship&rsquo;s coming in.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Sweetie couldn&rsquo;t tell whether she was in
+a dream or not. Half crying, half laughing,
+her face flushed with surprise, she
+asked,&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;How did you know?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Know what?&rdquo; said her friend, enjoying
+her bewilderment.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Why,&rdquo; she answered, &ldquo;about the way
+I keep up the children&rsquo;s spirits, and make
+them forget they are hungry and cold,
+while I tell them about my ship coming
+in?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;A little bird told me,&rdquo; said he, and
+then was quiet.</p>
+
+<p>Sweetie did not like to ask any more;
+so she sat quite still, leaning back in one
+corner of the carriage, among the soft,
+crimson cushions, and watched the people
+in the street, thinking how happy she
+was, and how strange it was that little
+Katie Lawson should be riding with a
+grand gentleman in a splendid carriage!</p>
+
+<p>Suddenly, with a whirl and a turn, they
+stopped before a house. Mr. Rogers
+lifted her out, and led her up the broad
+steps; and she found he was taking her
+into the beautiful white house, under the
+windows of which she had sat with Willie
+and Fred the day before.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Now,&rdquo; said Mr. Rogers, rolling a
+comfortable arm-chair for Sweetie in front
+of a glowing fire, &ldquo;while you are getting
+warm, and eating your dinner, I am going
+to tell you about my Christmas tree, and
+how your ship came in.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>A little table was brought in, and set
+between them, filled with so many delicacies,
+that Sweetie&rsquo;s head grew dizzy at
+the sight. She thought of her little hungry
+brothers and sister, and would rather
+not have eaten, but Mr. Rogers made her.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;My little girl,&rdquo; said he, finally, &ldquo;never
+forget this: God always rewards a faithful
+heart. If he seems to be a long time
+without caring for his children, he never
+forgets or forsakes them.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Then he told her that he had overheard
+her conversation with her brothers under
+his window, and that God had suddenly
+put it into his heart to take care of some
+of the poor and fatherless in that great
+city. &ldquo;And I am going to begin with
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_102" id="Page_102">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>102]</a></span>
+Sweetie,&rdquo; said he, very tenderly; &ldquo;and
+this is the way her ship shall come in.
+She shall have a new home to give to her
+mother for a Christmas present, and the
+boys shall sing their Christmas hymns
+to-night in the bright little parlor of the
+corner store, instead of the dingy old
+garret; and here are the deeds made out
+in Katie Lawson&rsquo;s own name, and nobody
+can take it away from her. But
+come, little woman,&rdquo; he added,&mdash;for
+Sweetie was sobbing for joy, and could
+not thank him,&mdash;&ldquo;go and wash your face,
+for the horses are tired of standing in
+the cold, and we must go and fetch the
+boys, or I shall never get my Christmas
+tree set up.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>An old lady, with a face beaming with
+kindness,&mdash;it was Mr. Rogers&rsquo;s housekeeper,&mdash;then
+took Sweetie, and not
+only washed her tear-stained cheeks, but
+curled her soft brown hair, and put on
+her the loveliest blue dress, with boots to
+match. All the time she was dressing
+her, Sweetie, who could not believe her
+senses, kept murmuring,&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;It&rsquo;s only a dream; it&rsquo;s too good to
+be true; the boys won&rsquo;t believe it, I
+know; it&rsquo;s just like a fairy story, and, of
+course, it&rsquo;s only pretending.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;No, indeed,&rdquo; said the old lady; &ldquo;it&rsquo;s
+really true, my dear, and I hope you&rsquo;ll be
+so grateful and kind to Mr. Rogers that
+he won&rsquo;t be so lonely as he has been
+without his own dear little children.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Sweetie could hardly realize her own
+good fortune; and, when she went down
+into the parlor, she burst into tears again,
+saying,&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;O, sir, I can&rsquo;t believe it. I am so
+happy!&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;So am I, Sweetie,&rdquo; said Mr. Rogers;
+and really it was hard to tell which was
+the happier&mdash;it is always so much more
+blessed to give than to receive. Together
+they rode to the new home, and laughed
+and cried together as they went all over
+it. After they had been up stairs, and
+down stairs, and in my lady&rsquo;s chamber,
+as Mr. Rogers said, he put her into the
+carriage again.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;James,&rdquo; said he to the coachman,
+&ldquo;you are under this young lady&rsquo;s orders
+to-night, and must drive carefully.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Then, kissing Sweetie, he put the key
+of her new home into her hand, and, telling
+her he should want her help to-morrow
+about his Christmas tree, he bade
+her good night.</p>
+
+<p>James drove Sweetie home, for the last
+time, to the dilapidated old house. She
+ran up stairs, Freddy said afterwards,
+&ldquo;just as Harry always did when he&rsquo;d had
+a good day.&rdquo; &ldquo;Mother and children,&rdquo;
+said she, &ldquo;Mr. Rogers, the kind gentleman
+who was here, has sent me back in
+his carriage to take you all to see something
+beautiful he has been showing me.
+Harry, you be the gentleman of the
+house, and hand mother and Jennie to
+the carriage, and I&rsquo;ll come right along.&rdquo;
+She stopped long enough&mdash;this good
+child, who, even in her own good fortune,
+did not forget the misfortunes of
+others&mdash;to run into the next room, where
+an old woman lived, who was a cripple, and
+whose daughter supported her by sewing.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Mrs. Jones,&rdquo; said she, hurriedly,
+&ldquo;a kind gentleman has given us a new
+home, and we are going to it to-night,
+never to come back here to live any
+more. Our old room, with the rent paid
+for a year, and all there is in it, I want
+you to take as a Christmas present from
+Sweetie; and I wish you a Happy, happy
+New Year, and please give this to
+Milly;&rdquo; and, slipping a five-dollar bill,
+which Mr. Rogers had given her, into the
+old woman&rsquo;s hand, she ran out, and
+jumped into the carriage. The street
+lamps blinked at them, like so many
+stars, as they rolled along, and the boys
+and Jennie screamed with delight; but
+Sweetie sat quite still.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_103" id="Page_103">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>103]</a></span>
+James knew where to stop. Sweetie
+got out first, and ran and unlocked the
+door of the little corner store. When
+they were all inside, and before any one
+had time to ask a question, Sweetie threw
+her arms about her mother&rsquo;s neck.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Mother,&rdquo; she cried, &ldquo;Sweetie&rsquo;s ship&rsquo;s
+come in; but it never would have come
+if it had not been for Mr. Rogers; and
+it&rsquo;s brought you this pretty house and
+shop for your own, and, please God, we&rsquo;ll
+all have&mdash;&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;A Merry Christmas and a Happy New
+Year!&rdquo; shouted Willie, ending her sentence
+just as she had ended the story the
+day before.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;And all the better,&rdquo; said Fred, who
+remembered too, &ldquo;because Christ was
+born that day.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Lawson, overwhelmed with joy,
+fainted. She soon recovered, however,
+though Sweetie insisted on her lying on
+the soft lounge before the fire, while she
+set the table. How pretty it looked, with
+its six purple and white plates, and cups
+and everything to match! How they did
+eat! How happy they were!</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Now,&rdquo; said Mrs. Lawson, when the
+dishes were washed, and they all sat
+round the fire, &ldquo;my little Sweetie, whose
+patience, and courage, and cheerfulness
+have kept up the hearts of the rest of us,
+and proved the ship that has brought us
+this cargo of comforts, you must tell us
+your Christmas story before we go to
+bed.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>So Sweetie told them all Mr. Rogers
+had said and done for her. They were so
+excited they sat up very late, and happiness
+made them sleep so soundly, that
+they did not wake till the sun was shining
+brightly into the little shop. People began
+to come in very early, to make
+little purchases. One lady bought a whole
+dollar&rsquo;s worth of toys, which made them
+feel as if they were full of business already.</p>
+
+<p>Later in the forenoon, Mr. Rogers sent
+for Harry and Sweetie to come and help
+dress his Christmas tree; and Christmas
+night his parlor was filled with poor children,
+for each of whom some useful gift
+hung on the tree. Milly was there by
+Sweetie&rsquo;s invitation, and Mr. Rogers sent
+her home in his carriage, with the easiest
+chair that money could buy for her old
+lame mother. The tears filled his eyes
+as Milly thanked him again and again for
+all his kindness; and, as he shut the door
+after the last one, he said,&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Hereafter I will make it always a
+Merry Christmas for God&rsquo;s needy ones.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>I am sure he did, for he had Sweetie
+always near him. He used to call her
+his &ldquo;Christmas Sweeting;&rdquo; and then she
+would laugh, and say he was her &ldquo;Golden
+Sweeting.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>What is better than gold he gave the
+family: he found patrons for Mrs. Lawson,
+and customers for the shop, and
+placed Harry in a mercantile house,
+where he soon rose to be head clerk.
+The other children he put at school.
+Sweetie he never would let go very far
+out of his sight. He had her thoroughly
+and usefully educated, and no less than
+her mother, and brothers, and sister, did
+he bless the day when &ldquo;Sweetie&rsquo;s ship
+came in&rdquo;&mdash;</p>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">A ship which brought for every day<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">A welcome hope, an added joy,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">A something sweet to do or say,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And hosts of pleasures unalloyed,<br /></span>
+</div>
+
+<div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Its cargo, made of pleasant cares,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Of daily duties to be done,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Of smiles and laughter, songs and prayers,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">The glad, bright life of Happy Ones.<br /></span>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<p class="sig smcap">Margaret Field.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_104" id="Page_104">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>104]</a></span></p>
+
+<div class="figcenter ipadtop" style="width: 411px;">
+<img src="images/hd046.jpg" width="411" height="600"
+alt="A little boy, wearing a sailor suit and carrying a toy boat" />
+</div>
+
+<p class="caption">NOTHING TO DO.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_105" id="Page_105">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>105]</a></span></p>
+
+<h2>NOTHING TO DO.</h2>
+
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p class="cap">I HAVE sailed my boat and spun my top,<br />
+<span class="i2">And handled my last new ball;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">I trundled my hoop till I had to stop,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And I swung till got a fall;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">I tumbled my books all out of the shelves,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And hunted the pictures through;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">I&rsquo;ve flung them where they may sort themselves,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And now&mdash;I have nothing to do.<br /></span></p>
+</div>
+
+<div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">The tower of Babel I built of blocks<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Came down with a crash to the floor;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">My train of cars ran over the rocks&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">I&rsquo;ll warrant they&rsquo;ll run no more;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">I have raced with Grip till I&rsquo;m out of breath;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">My slate is broken in two,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">So I can&rsquo;t draw monkeys. I&rsquo;m tired to death<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Because I have nothing to do.<br /></span>
+</div>
+
+<div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">I can see where the boys have gone to fish;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">They bothered me, too, to go,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But for fun like that I hadn&rsquo;t a wish,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">For I think it&rsquo;s mighty &ldquo;slow&rdquo;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To sit all day at the end of a rod<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">For the sake of a minnow or two,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Or to land, at the farthest, an eel on the sod:<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">I&rsquo;d rather have nothing to do.<br /></span>
+</div>
+
+<div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Maria has gone to the woods for flowers,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And Lucy and Rose are away<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">After berries. I&rsquo;m sure they&rsquo;ve been out for hours;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">I wonder what makes them stay?<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Ned wanted to saddle Brunette for me,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">But riding is nothing new;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">&ldquo;I was thinking you&rsquo;d relish a canter,&rdquo; said he,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">&ldquo;Because you have nothing to do.&rdquo;<br /></span>
+</div>
+
+<div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">I wish I was poor Jim Foster&rsquo;s son,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">For he seems so happy and gay,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">When his wood is chopped and his work all done,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">With his little half hour of play;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">He neither has books nor top nor ball,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Yet he&rsquo;s singing the whole day through;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But then he is never tired at all<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Because he has nothing to do.<br /></span>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_106" id="Page_106">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>106]</a></span></p>
+
+<div class="figcenter ipadtop" style="width: 426px;">
+<img src="images/hd047.jpg" width="426" height="600"
+alt="Two polar bears with a seal they have caught" />
+</div>
+
+<p class="caption">TWO GENTLEMEN IN FURS.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_107" id="Page_107">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>107]</a></span></p>
+
+<h2>TWO &ldquo;GENTLEMEN IN FUR CLOAKS.&rdquo;</h2>
+
+
+<p><span class="dropcap">T</span>HIS is the name given to the bears
+in Kamschatka by the Laplanders,
+who think they will be offended if they
+are called by their real name; and we
+may give the same name to the bears in
+the picture. They are Polar bears, who
+live in the seas round the North Pole, and
+fine white fur coats they have of their own.
+They are white on purpose, so that they
+may not be seen easily among all the
+snow and ice in which they live. The
+head of the Polar bear is very long and
+flat, the mouth and ears are small in comparison
+with other bears, the neck is long
+and thick, and the sole of the foot very
+large. Perhaps you will wonder how the
+bear manages to walk on the ice, as nobody
+is very likely to give him skates or
+snow-boots. To be sure, he has strong,
+thick claws, but they would not be of
+much use&mdash;they would only make him
+slip on the hard ice&mdash;but the sole of the
+foot is covered nearly all over with thick,
+woolly hair, so the bear walks as safely
+as old ladies do when they wrap list
+round their boots.</p>
+
+<p>The Polar bear likes to eat fish, though
+he will eat roots and berries when he can
+get no better, and he is a very good swimmer;
+he can dive, too, and make long
+leaps in the water. If he wants a boat, he
+has only to get on a loose piece of ice,
+and then he can float about at his ease.</p>
+
+<p>This is a full-grown bear, of course.
+Young bears cannot do all these things;
+they have to stay with their mothers on
+shore, where they eat seals and seaweed;
+the seaweed is their vegetable, I suppose.
+When the young bears travel and get
+tired, they get on their mother&rsquo;s back, and
+ride there quite safely, whether in the
+water or on land.</p>
+
+<p>Bears are very fond of their young, and
+will do anything to defend them. There
+is a story told of a poor mother-bear and
+her two cubs which is almost too sad to
+tell, but it will make us think kindly of
+the bear, so I will tell it to you.</p>
+
+<p>Years ago a ship which had gone to the
+North Pole to make discoveries got fixed
+tight in the ice; one morning, while the
+ship was still unable to get loose, a man
+at the lookout gave warning that three
+bears were coming across the ice toward
+the ship. The crew had killed a walrus
+a few days before, and no doubt the bears
+had smelled it. The flesh of the walrus
+was roasting in a fire on the ice, and two
+of the bears ran eagerly to it, dragged
+out the bits that were not burnt, and began
+to eat them; they were the cubs,
+but were almost as large as their mother.</p>
+
+<p>The sailors threw some more of the
+flesh they had on board on to the ice.
+These the old bear fetched; and putting
+them before her cubs, she divided them,
+giving them each a large piece, and only
+keeping a small bit for herself. When
+she came to fetch the last piece the sailors
+shot at the cubs, killing them; they also
+wounded the mother, but not mortally;
+the poor mother never thought of herself,
+only of her cubs. They were not quite
+dead, only dying, and she crawled to
+where they lay, with the lump of meat
+she had fetched, and put it down before
+them, as she had done the first time.
+When she found they did not eat, she
+took hold first of one, then of the other,
+and tried to lift them up, moaning pitifully
+all the time, as if she thought it
+would be of no use. Then she went a
+little way off and looked back. But the
+cubs were dead now, and could not move,
+so she went back to them and began to
+lick their wounds. Once more she crawled
+away from them, and then again came
+back, and went round and round them,
+pawing them and moaning. At last she
+seems to have found out that they were
+dead; and turning to the ship, she raised
+her head and uttered a loud growl of anger
+and despair. The cruel sailors fired
+at her in reply, and she fell between her
+poor dead cubs, and died licking their
+wounds.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_108" id="Page_108">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>108]</a></span></p>
+
+<div class="figcenter ipadtop" style="width: 406px;">
+<img src="images/hd048.jpg" width="406" height="600"
+alt="Charlie holding the broom that saved him" />
+</div>
+
+<p class="caption">THE FAITHFUL BOY.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_109" id="Page_109">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>109]</a></span></p>
+
+<h2>CHARLIE&rsquo;S ESCAPE.</h2>
+
+
+<p><span class="dropcap">I</span> HAVE some boy-cousins living in the country of whom I think a great
+deal. They write me letters quite often. I can hardly tell whose letters
+give me the most pleasure, the &ldquo;big boys&rsquo;,&rdquo; who write me about their school,
+their colts and calves, their good times on the holidays, or the little printed
+letters I get from the &ldquo;small boys,&rdquo; telling me how many chickens they have
+and that they love me. I am sure I love them <em>all</em>, and hope they will grow
+to be good, true men.</p>
+
+<p>Charlie is one of the &ldquo;big boys.&rdquo; Not <em>very</em> big, either&mdash;just thirteen
+years old, and rather small and slight for his years. A few weeks ago a neighbor
+of his father&rsquo;s was going away, and got Charlie to do &ldquo;the chores&rdquo; for
+him during his absence&mdash;feed the young cattle, milk the cow and keep things
+in order about the barn. Charlie is an obliging boy, so he performed his
+task faithfully. If I had time, boys, I would just like to stop here and give
+you a little lecture on faithfulness, with Charlie for a model, for he <em>is</em> a &ldquo;faithful
+boy.&rdquo; But I want to tell my story. For two or three days Charlie went
+each morning to his neighbor&rsquo;s barn, and after milking the cow turned all
+the creatures to pasture, and every night drove them home again. One morning,
+as he stood by the bars waiting for them all to pass out, a frisky year-old
+calf&mdash;&ldquo;a yearling&rdquo; the farmers call them&mdash;instead of going orderly over the
+bars, as a well-disposed calf should, just gave a side jump and shook her horns
+at Charlie. &ldquo;Over with you!&rdquo; called Charlie, and waved his hand at her.
+Miss Yearling either fancied this an insult or an invitation to single combat, for
+she again lowered her head and ran at Charlie, who had no stick, and so
+thought best to run from the enemy. He started for the stable door, but in
+his hurry and fright he could not open it, and while fumbling at the latch the
+creature made another attack. Charlie dodged her again, and one of her
+horns pierced the door nearly an inch. Again she ran at him, and with her
+nose &ldquo;bunted&rdquo; him off his feet. Charlie was getting afraid now, and called
+out to the folks in the house, &ldquo;Oh, come and help me!&rdquo; and right then he bethought
+him of something he had read in his father&rsquo;s &ldquo;Agriculturist&rdquo; about a
+boy in similar danger, who saved himself by grasping the cow&rsquo;s horns that had
+attacked him. So just as the yearling was about to try again if she could
+push him over, he took fast hold of each horn. But his situation was getting
+<em>very unpleasant</em>, for he was penned up in a corner, with the barn behind him,
+a high fence on one side and the now angry heifer in front. He had regained
+his feet, but was pushed and staggered about, for he was fast losing his strength.
+No wonder his voice had a quiver in it as he again shouted as loud as he
+could, &ldquo;Oh, do come quick!&rdquo; The lady in the house was busy getting breakfast,
+and heard no sound. A lady-visitor in one of the chambers heard the
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_110" id="Page_110">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>110]</a></span>
+first call, but thought it only boys at play. By and by the distressed shout
+again smote her ears, and this time she heard the words, &ldquo;Help me!&rdquo; She
+ran down stairs to the housekeeper, who opened the outside door and listened.
+Charlie&rsquo;s voice was weak and faint now, and the fear came to the lady that he
+had fallen into the barn cellar. She ran quickly to the great door of the barn.
+&ldquo;Where are you, Charlie?&rdquo; &ldquo;Come to the stable door,&rdquo; answered back a
+faint, trembling voice. She quickly ran through the barn to that door, but
+she could not open it at first, for the heifer had pushed herself around till she
+stood broadside against the door. But the lady pushed hard and got the door
+open a little way, and seizing the big stable broom hit the naughty animal
+two or three heavy whacks that made her move around; and as soon as she
+opened the door wide, Charlie let go her horns, and she (the heifer), not
+liking the big broom-handle, turned and ran off as fast as her legs could go.
+The lady helped Charlie up and into the house, for he could hardly stand.
+He was bruised and lame, and the breath had almost left him. But after resting
+a while and taking some good warm drink, he tried to walk home; and though
+the lady helped him, he found it hard work, for he was so sore and bruised.
+Charlie&rsquo;s mother was frightened enough to see her boy come home leaning on
+their neighbor&rsquo;s arm and looking so pale. She helped him undress and lie
+down, and then she did just what your mother, little reader-boy, would do if
+you had such an escape as Charlie&rsquo;s. She put her arms around her boy and
+said, &ldquo;Let us thank the good Lord that you were not killed, my boy.&rdquo; And
+do you think Charlie will ever forget his escape? I don&rsquo;t. And I hope he
+will always thank &ldquo;the good Lord&rdquo; not only for the escape, but for his every
+blessing.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+
+<h2><a name="Page_110lower" id="Page_110lower"></a>I AM COMING!</h2>
+
+
+<div class="poem">
+
+<div class="stanza">
+<p class="cap">I AM coming! I am coming! sings the robin on the wing;<br />
+<span class="i2">Soon the gates of spring will open; where you loiter I will sing;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Turn your thoughts to merriest music, send it ringing down the vale,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Where the yellow-bird is waiting on the old brown meadow-rail.<br /></span></p>
+</div>
+
+<div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">I am coming! I am coming! sings the summer from afar;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And her voice is like the shining of some silver-mantled star;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">In it breathes the breath of flowers, in it hides the dawn of day,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">In it wake the happy showers of the merry, merry May!<br /></span>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_111" id="Page_111">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>111]</a></span></p>
+
+<h2>DAISY&rsquo;S TEMPTATION.</h2>
+
+
+<p><span class="dropcap">I</span> DON&rsquo;T think grandma would ever know it. I could just slip them into
+my pocket and put them on after I get there as e-a-sy! I&rsquo;ll do it;&rdquo; and
+Daisy Dorsey lifted her grandma&rsquo;s gold beads from a box on her lap. She
+clasped them about her chubby neck and stood before the mirror, talking softly
+to herself. &ldquo;How nice it will be!&rdquo; she said, drawing up her little figure till
+only the tip of her nose was visible in the glass. &ldquo;And Jimmy Martin will
+let me fly his kite instead of Hetty Lee. Hetty Lee, indeed! I don&rsquo;t believe
+she ever had any grandmother&mdash;not such a grandmother as mine, anyway.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Then the proud little Daisy fell to thinking of the verse her mother had
+read to her that morning, about the dear Father in heaven who sees us always,
+and the blessed angels who are so holy and so pure.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;And I promised mamma I would be so good and try so hard to do right
+always. No, no; I can&rsquo;t do it. Lie there, little pretty gold beads. Daisy
+loves you, but she wants to be good too. So good-bye, dear little, bright
+gold beads,&rdquo; laying them softly back in the drawer and turning away with her
+eyes like violets in the rain.</p>
+
+<p>Now, it so happened that good Grandma Ellis had heard every word Daisy
+had said, had seen her take the beads from their box in the drawer, knew
+just how her darling was tempted and how she had conquered pride and evil
+desire in her little heart, for she was in her bath-room, adjoining her chamber;
+and the door being ajar, she could hear and see all that Daisy said and did.</p>
+
+<p>How glad she was when she heard her say, &ldquo;I can&rsquo;t do it. Good-bye,
+pretty gold beads!&rdquo; and she felt so sorry, too, for the great tears in the sweet
+blue eyes.</p>
+
+<p>Daisy wore the coral beads to the picnic, and no child had a merrier day
+than she, for she had struggled with temptation, had overcome through the
+loving Father&rsquo;s aid, and so was happy, as we all are when we do right.</p>
+
+<p>That evening, when the harvest-moon lifted its bright face to the bosom of
+the east, Grandma Ellis sat in her old-fashioned high-backed chair thinking.</p>
+
+<p>Such a pretty picture she made, too, with her light shawl draped gracefully
+over her shoulders, her kerchief and cap so snowy, and her sweet face so full
+of God&rsquo;s love and his divinest peace!</p>
+
+<p>In her hands she held the gold beads, and there was something very like
+tears in her gray eyes, for the necklace had a history that only grandma knew&mdash;she
+and one other, whose face that night was far away where they need no
+light of the moon, nor of the sun, for God is the light of the place.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Come here, Daisy,&rdquo; she said, presently. &ldquo;Come to grandma.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>The little creature flew like a bird, for she loved the sound of that dear old
+voice; and besides, Daisy was a happy child that night, and in her heart the
+singing-birds of content and joy kept up a merry music of their own.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_112" id="Page_112">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>112]</a></span></p>
+
+<div class="figcenter ipadtop" style="width: 430px;">
+<img src="images/hd049.jpg" width="430" height="600"
+alt="Daisy takes the necklace out of the box" />
+</div>
+
+<p class="caption">DAISY&rsquo;S TEMPTATION.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_113" id="Page_113">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>113]</a></span>
+Grandma Ellis threw the little necklace over Daisy&rsquo;s head as she came
+toward her, and lifting her to her knee and kissing her glad eyes said,
+speaking low and softly,</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;That is for my Daisy to keep always, for grandma&rsquo;s sake. It is not just
+the ornament for your little dear neck in these days, but keep it always, because
+grandma loved it and gave it to her darling that would not deceive her,
+even for the sake of flying Jimmy Martin&rsquo;s kite at the picnic.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Then Daisy was sure grandma knew all about her sad temptation, and how
+she had coveted the bright gold beads for just one little day. Now they were
+to be hers for ever, and half for shame, half for very joy, Daisy hid her
+curly head in grandma&rsquo;s bosom and sobbed aloud.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Hush, darling!&rdquo; grandma said; &ldquo;we are all tempted to do wrong sometimes,
+and the dear Father in heaven suffers this to be that we may grow
+stronger through resistance. Now, if you had yielded to the voice of pride
+and desire this morning, do you think you could have been happy to-day,
+even with the necklace and flying Jimmy&rsquo;s kite?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;No, no! Oh, grandma, forgive me!&rdquo; sobbed the little voice from
+grandma&rsquo;s bosom.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Yes, dear, as I am sure God does, who saw how you were sorely tried and
+surely conqueror. Kiss me good-night now; and when you have said your
+&lsquo;Now I lay me,&rsquo; add, &lsquo;Dear Father, help grandma&rsquo;s Daisy to be good and
+happy always.&rsquo;&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>An hour later, with the gold beads still about her neck, Daisy in her little
+bed was dreaming of the beautiful fields and flowers that are for ever fadeless
+in the land we name eternal; and the blessed angels, guarding her slumber
+and seeing the smile upon her happy lips, were glad because of Daisy&rsquo;s
+temptation, for they knew that the dear child would be stronger and purer
+and better because she had overcome.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+
+<h2><a name="Page_113lower" id="Page_113lower"></a>ANSWER TO A CHILD&rsquo;S QUESTION.</h2>
+
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p class="cap">DO you ask what the birds say? The sparrow, the dove,<br />
+<span class="i3">The linnet and thrush say &ldquo;I love and I love!&rdquo;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">In the winter they&rsquo;re silent, the wind is so strong;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">What it says I don&rsquo;t know, but it sings a loud song.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But green leaves and blossoms and sunny warm weather,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And singing and loving, all come back together.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But the lark is so brimful of gladness and love,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The green fields below him, the blue sky above,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">That he sings and he sings, and for ever sings he,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">&ldquo;I love my love, and my love loves me.&rdquo;<br /></span></p>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_114" id="Page_114">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>114]</a></span></p>
+
+<div class="figcenter ipadtop" style="width: 414px;">
+<img src="images/hd050.jpg" width="414" height="600"
+alt="Nelly watering some of her plants" />
+</div>
+
+<p class="caption">NELLY&rsquo;S GARDEN.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_115" id="Page_115">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>115]</a></span></p>
+
+<h2>WHAT NELLY GAVE AWAY.</h2>
+
+
+<p><span class="dropcap">N</span>ELLY RAY was a bright, brave-hearted little girl, whom no one could
+help loving.</p>
+
+<p>Singing like a lark in the morning, wearing sweet smiles on her face all day,
+cheerful even when the shadows fell, it would have been strange indeed if her
+humble home had not seemed like a bit of paradise, and the ground under
+her feet had not blossomed like the rose.</p>
+
+<p>It was a pleasant day in the early spring, when the grass was just lifting
+itself above the moist earth, when the soft south wind was blowing among the
+tender little leaves of the lilac bushes, when the birds were busy building their
+nests, when the merry little brook was beginning its song and the great round
+world looked glad and bright, that Nelly began to make her garden.</p>
+
+<p>Her father had dug the ground and made it ready for her, and so she took
+her little red basket full of seeds of different kinds, each kind tied up by itself
+and labelled, and down in the little beds she dropped candy-tuft, and phlox,
+and lady-slippers.</p>
+
+<p>How happy she was at her work! Her cheeks were the color of ripe peaches,
+her eyes were as sweet as twin violets, and her little mouth was like a fresh
+rosebud, but better and brighter far than the cheeks and lips was the light of
+kindness that shone in her eyes.</p>
+
+<p>Her sister Jennie, who sat sewing by the window, watched her with loving
+interest.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Mother,&rdquo; she said, at length, looking up from her work, &ldquo;do you know
+what a generous little girl our Nelly would be if she was only a rich man&rsquo;s
+child?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Is she not generous now, Jennie?&rdquo; asked her mother.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Oh yes, surely she is. But I was thinking how much good she would do,
+and how much she would give away, if only we were not poor.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>She saw that her mother was smiling softly to herself.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;She gives away more now, of course, than some rich children do. Just
+think how faithfully she works in that little garden, so as to have flowers to
+give away! I do not believe there is a house anywhere near us into which
+sickness or poverty comes where her simple flowers will not go.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Did you ever think, dear Jennie, of the other garden which Nelly weeds
+and waters every day?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;No, mother. What garden do you mean?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;The garden of her heart, my dear child. You know that the rain which
+the clouds take from the lakes and rivers comes back to refresh and beautify
+our fields and gardens; and so it is with our little Nelly&rsquo;s good deeds and
+kind, loving words. She gives away more than a handful of violets, for with
+them goes a bright smile, which is like sunshine to the sick heart. She gives
+more than a bunch of roses, for with them always goes a kind word. And
+doing these little things, she gets a large reward. Her own heart grows
+richer.&rdquo;</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_116" id="Page_116">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>116]</a></span></p>
+
+<h2>A STRANGE COMBAT.</h2>
+
+
+<p><span class="dropcap">W</span>E are told that the old Romans
+greatly delighted in witnessing
+the combats of wild beasts, as well as
+gladiators, and that they used to ransack
+their whole broad empire for new and unheard-of
+animals&mdash;anything and everything
+that had fierceness and fight in it.
+Those vast amphitheatres, like the Coliseum,
+were built to gratify these rather
+sanguinary tastes in that direction.</p>
+
+<p>But I doubt whether even the old Romans,
+with all their large experience, ever
+beheld so strange and grotesque a &ldquo;set-to&rdquo;
+(I&rsquo;m pretty sure none of our American
+boys ever did) as the writer once
+stumbled upon, on the shores of one of
+our Northern Maine lakes&mdash;Lake Pennesseewassee,
+if you can pronounce that;
+it trips up editors sometimes.</p>
+
+<p>I had been spending the day in the
+neighboring forest, hunting for a black
+squirrel I had seen there the evening before,
+having with me a great, red-shirted
+lumberman, named Ben&mdash;Ben Murch.
+And not finding our squirrel, we were
+making our way, towards evening, down
+through the thick alders which skirted the
+lake, to the shore, in the hope of getting
+a shot at an otter, or a mink, when all at
+once a great sound, a sort of <em>quock, quock</em>,
+accompanied by a great splashing of the
+water, came to our ears.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Hush!&rdquo; ejaculated Ben, clapping his
+hand to his ear (as his custom was), to
+catch the sound. &ldquo;Hear that? Some
+sort of a fracas.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>And cautiously pushing through the
+dense copse, a very singular and comical
+spectacle met our eyes. For out some
+two or three rods from the muddy, grassy
+shore stood a tall, a very tall bird,&mdash;somewhere
+from four to five feet, I judged,&mdash;with
+long, thin, black legs, and an
+awkward body, slovenly clad in dull gray-blue
+plumage. The neck was as long as the
+legs, and the head small, and nearly bare,
+with a long, yellowish bill. Standing knee
+deep in the muddied water, it was, on the
+whole, about the most ungainly-looking
+fowl you can well imagine; while on a
+half-buried tree trunk, running out towards
+it into the water, crouched a wiry, black
+creature, of about average dog size, wriggling
+a long, restless tail, and apparently
+in the very act of springing at the long-legged
+biped in the water. Just now they
+were eying each other very intently; but
+from the splashed and bedraggled appearance
+of both, it was evident there had
+been recent hostilities, which, judging
+from the attitude of the combatants, were
+about to be renewed.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Show!&rdquo; exclaimed Ben, peering over
+my shoulder from behind. &ldquo;An old <em>hairn</em>&mdash;ain&rsquo;t
+it? Regular old <em>pokey</em>. Thought
+I&rsquo;d heered that <em>quock</em> before. And that
+creatur&rsquo;? Let&rsquo;s see. Odd-looking chap.
+Wish he&rsquo;d turn his head this way. Fisher&mdash;ain&rsquo;t
+it? Looks like one. Should judge
+that&rsquo;s a fisher-cat. What in the world got
+them at loggerheads, I wonder?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>By &ldquo;hairn&rdquo; Ben meant <em>heron</em>, the great
+blue heron of American waters&mdash;<i>Ardea
+Herodias</i> of the naturalists. And fisher,
+or fisher-cat, is the common name among
+hunters for Pennant&rsquo;s marten, or the <i>Mustela
+canadensis</i>, a very fierce carnivorous
+animal, of the weasel family, growing from
+three to four feet in length, called also
+&ldquo;the black cat.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>The fisher had doubtless been the assailant,
+though both had now that intent,
+tired-down air which marks a long fray.
+He had probably crept up from behind,
+while old long-shanks was quietly frogging
+along the shore.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_117" id="Page_117">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>117]</a></span>
+But he had found his intended victim a
+game one. The heron had a character to
+sustain; and although he might easily
+have flown away, or even waded farther
+out, yet he seemed to scorn to do either.</p>
+
+<p>Not an inch would it budge, but stood
+with its long, javelin-like beak poised,
+ready to strike into the fisher&rsquo;s eye, uttering,
+from moment to moment, that menacing,
+guttural <em>quock</em>, which had first attracted
+our attention.</p>
+
+<p>This sound, mingling with the eager
+snarling and fretting of the cat, made the
+most dismal and incongruous duet I had
+ever listened to. For some moments they
+stood thus threatening and defying each
+other; but at length, lashing itself up to
+the proper pitch of fury, the fisher jumped
+at his antagonist with distended jaws, to
+seize hold of the long, slender throat.
+One bite at the heron&rsquo;s slim neck would
+settle the whole affair. But this attempt
+was very adroitly balked by the plucky
+old wader&rsquo;s taking a long step aside, when
+the fisher fell into the water with a great
+splash, and while struggling back to the
+log, received a series of strokes, or, rather,
+stabs, from the long, pointed beak,
+dealt down with wonderful swiftness, and
+force, too; for we distinctly heard them
+<em>prod</em> into the cat&rsquo;s tough hide, as he
+scrambled upon the log, and ran spitting
+up the bank. This defeat, however, was
+but temporary, as any one acquainted with
+the singular persistence and perseverance
+of the whole weasel family will readily
+guess. The fisher had soon worked his
+way down the log again, the heron
+retiring to his former position in the
+water.</p>
+
+<p>Another succession of quocks and
+growlings, and another spring, with even
+less success, on the side of the cat. For
+this time the heron&rsquo;s bill wounded one of
+his eyes; and as he again retreated up
+the log, we could see the bloody tears
+trickling down over his shaggy jowl.</p>
+
+<p>Thus far the battle seemed favorable to
+the heron; but the fisher again rallied,
+and, now thoroughly maddened, rushed
+down the log, and leaped blindly upon his
+foe. Again and again his attacks were
+parried. The snarling growls now rose
+to shrieks, and the croaking quocks to
+loud, dissonant cries.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Faugh!&rdquo; muttered Ben. &ldquo;Smell his
+breath&mdash;fisher&rsquo;s breath&mdash;clean here.
+Always let that out somehow when
+they&rsquo;re mad.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Even at our distance, that strong, fetid
+odor, sometimes perceptible when a cat
+spits, could plainly be discerned.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Old <em>hairn</em> seems to be having the best
+of it,&rdquo; continued Ben. &ldquo;I bet on him.
+How cool he keeps! Fights like a machine.
+See that bill come down now!
+Look at the marks it makes, too!&rdquo; For
+the blood, oozing out through the thick
+fur of the cat in more than a dozen spots,
+was attesting the prowess of the heron&rsquo;s
+powerful beak.</p>
+
+<p>But at length, with a sudden bound upward,
+the fisher fell with his whole weight
+upon the back of his lathy antagonist.
+Old long-legs was upset, and down they
+both went in the water, where a prodigious
+scuffle ensued. Now one of the
+heron&rsquo;s big feet would be thrust up nearly
+a yard; then the cat would come to the
+top, sneezing and strangling; and anon
+the heron&rsquo;s long neck would loop up in
+sight, bending and doubling about in frantic
+attempts to peck at its foe, its cries
+now resembling those of a hen when
+seized in the night, save that they were
+louder and harsher. Over and over they
+floundered and rolled. The mud and
+water flew about. Long legs, shaggy
+paws, wet, wriggling tail, and squawking
+beak, fur and feathers&mdash;all turning and
+squirming in inextricable confusion. It
+was hard telling which was having the
+best of the <i>m&ecirc;l&eacute;e</i>, when, on a sudden, the
+struggle stopped, as if by magic.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_118" id="Page_118">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>118]</a></span></p>
+
+<div class="figcenter ipadboth" style="width: 440px;">
+<img src="images/hd051.jpg" width="440" height="400"
+alt="The marten about to attack the heron" />
+</div>
+
+<p>&ldquo;One or t&rsquo;other has given in,&rdquo; muttered
+Ben.</p>
+
+<p>Looking more closely, we saw that the
+fisher had succeeded in getting the heron&rsquo;s
+neck into his mouth. One bite had been
+sufficient. The fray was over. And after
+holding on a while, the victor, up to his
+back in water, began moving towards the
+shore, dragging along with him, by the
+neck, the body of the heron, whose great
+feet came trailing after at an astonishing
+distance behind. To see him, wet as a
+drowned rat, tugging up the muddy bank
+with his ill-omened and unsightly prey,
+was indeed a singular spectacle. Whatever
+had brought on this queer contest,
+the fisher had won&mdash;fairly, too, for aught
+I could see; and I hadn&rsquo;t it in my heart
+to intercept his retreat. But Ben, to
+whom a &ldquo;black cat&rdquo; was particularly obnoxious,
+from its nefarious habit of robbing
+traps, had no such scruples, and,
+bringing up his rifle with the careless
+quickness of an old woodsman, fired before
+I could interpose a word. The fisher
+dropped, and after writhing and snapping
+a few moments, stretched out&mdash;dead.</p>
+
+<p>Leaving Ben to take off its skin,&mdash;for
+the fur is worth a trifle,&mdash;I was strolling
+along the shore, when upon coming under
+a drooping cedar, some six or seven rods
+from the scene of the fight, another large
+heron sprang out of a clump of brambles,
+and stalked off with a croak of distrust.
+It at once occurred to me that there might
+be a nest here; and opening the
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_119" id="Page_119">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>119]</a></span>
+brambles, lo, there it was, a broad, clumsy
+structure of coarse sticks, some two or
+three feet from the ground, and lined with
+moss and water grasses. In it, or, rather,
+on it, were two chicks, heron chicks, uncouth
+little things, with long, skinny legs
+and necks, and sparsely clad with tufts of
+gray down. And happening to glance
+under the nest, I perceived an egg, lodged
+down among the bramble-stalks. It had
+probably rolled out of the nest. It struck
+me, however, as being a very small egg
+from so large a bird; and having a rule
+in my pocket, I found it to be but two and
+a half inches in length by one and a half
+in width. It was of a dull, bluish-white
+color, without spots, though rather rough
+and uneven. I took it home as a curiosity.</p>
+
+<p>On the edge of the nest I saw several
+small perch, a frog, and a meadow-mouse,
+all recently brought, though the place had
+a suspicious odor of carrion.</p>
+
+<p>All this while the old heron had stood
+at a little distance away, uttering now and
+then an ominous croak. I could easily
+have shot it from where I stood, but
+thought the family had suffered enough
+for one day.</p>
+
+<p>The presence of the nest accounted for
+the obstinacy with which the old male
+heron had contested the ground with the
+fisher.</p>
+
+<p>Both old birds are said to sit by turns
+upon the eggs. But the nests are not always
+placed so near the ground as this
+one. Last summer, while fishing from
+the &ldquo;Pappoose&rsquo;s Pond,&rdquo; I discovered one
+in the very top of a lofty Norway pine&mdash;a
+huge bunch of sticks and long grass,
+upon the edge of which one of the old
+herons was standing on one foot, perfectly
+motionless, with its neck drawn down, and
+seemingly asleep.</p>
+
+<p>The artist who could have properly
+sketched that nest and bird would have
+made his fortune then and there.</p>
+
+<p class="sig smcap">C. A. Stephens.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+
+<h2><a name="Page_119lower" id="Page_119lower"></a>LITTLE HOME-BODY.</h2>
+
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p class="cap">LITTLE Home-body is mother&rsquo;s wee pet,<br />
+<span class="i3">Fairest and sweetest of housekeepers yet;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Up when the roses in golden light peep,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Helping her mother to sew and to sweep.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Tidy and prim in her apron and gown,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Brightest of eyes, of the bonniest brown;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Tiniest fingers, and needle so fleet,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Pattern of womanhood, down at my feet!<br /></span></p>
+</div>
+
+<div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Little Home-body is grave and demure,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Weeps when you speak of the wretched and poor,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Though she can laugh in the merriest way<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">While you are telling a tale that is gay.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Lily that blooms in some lone, leafy nook;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Sly little hide-away, moss-sided brook;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Fairies are fine, where the silver dews fall;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Home fairies&mdash;these are the best of them all!<br /></span>
+</div>
+
+<p class="poet smcap">George Cooper.</p>
+</div>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_120" id="Page_120">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>120]</a></span></p>
+
+<div class="figcenter ipadtop" style="width: 412px;">
+<img src="images/hd052.jpg" width="412" height="600"
+alt="Neddy hugs the lamb" />
+</div>
+
+<p class="caption">NEDDY AND HIS LAMB.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_121" id="Page_121">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>121]</a></span></p>
+
+<h2>NEDDY&rsquo;S HALF HOLIDAY.</h2>
+
+
+<p><span class="dropcap">W</span>E&rsquo;VE had a good time, Tony, old fellow, haven&rsquo;t we?&rdquo; said Neddy
+Harris, who was beginning to feel tired with his half day&rsquo;s ramble in
+the fields. As he said this he sat down on some boards in the barn.</p>
+
+<p>Tony replied to his young master by rubbing his nose against his face, and
+by a soft &ldquo;baa,&rdquo; which was as near as he could come to saying, &ldquo;A first-rate
+time, Master Neddy.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;A grand good time,&rdquo; added the boy, putting his arms around the lamb&rsquo;s
+neck and laying his face on its soft wool.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;And now,&rdquo; he continued, &ldquo;as father says we should always do, I&rsquo;ll just
+go back and think over what I&rsquo;ve done this holiday afternoon; and if I forgot
+myself in anything and went wrong, it will be best for me to know it, so that
+I can do better next time.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I&rsquo;m sorry about that poor squirrel,&rdquo; said Neddy; &ldquo;he never did me any
+harm. What a beautiful little creature he was, with his bright black eyes and
+shiny skin!&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>And the boy&rsquo;s face grew sad, as well it might, for he had pelted this squirrel
+with stones from tree to tree, and at last knocked him to the ground.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;But it was so cruel in me! Now, if I live a hundred years, I&rsquo;ll never harm
+another squirrel. God made these frisky little fellows, and they&rsquo;ve just as much
+right to live as I have.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Neddy felt better about the squirrel after this good resolution, which he
+meant to keep.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;That was curious about the spider,&rdquo; he went on, trying to push all thoughts
+of the dead squirrel from his mind. Let me tell you about this spider. In
+the corner of a fence Neddy saw a large circular spider&rsquo;s web, shaped like a
+funnel, down in the centre of which was a hole. As he stood looking at the
+delicate thing, finer than any woven silk, a fly struck against it and got his feet
+tangled, so that he could not escape. Instantly a great black spider ran out of
+the hole at the bottom of the web, and seizing the poor fly dragged him out
+of sight and made his dinner off of him.</p>
+
+<p>Neddy dropped a piece of dry bark about the size of his thumb nail into
+the web, and it slipped down and covered the hole through which the spider
+had to come for his prey. Instantly the piece of bark was pushed up by the
+spider, who came out of his den and ran around on the slender cords of his
+web in a troubled kind of way. Then he tried to get back into his hidden
+chamber, but the piece of bark covered the entrance like a shut door. And
+now Mr. Spider was in a terrible flurry. He ran wildly up one side of his
+web and down another; then he tugged at the piece of bark, trying to drag it
+out, but its rough edges took hold of the fine silken threads and tore them.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_122" id="Page_122">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>122]</a></span>
+&ldquo;You&rsquo;ll catch no more flies in that web, old chap,&rdquo; said Neddy as he stood
+watching the spider.</p>
+
+<p>But Neddy was mistaken. Spider did not belong to the give-up class. If
+the thing could not be done in one way, it might in another. He did not
+reason about things like human beings, but then he had instinct, as it is called,
+and that teaches animals how to get their food, how to build their houses or
+make their nests, and how to meet the dangers and difficulties that overtake
+them in life. After sitting still for a little while, spider went to work again,
+and this time in a surprising way. He cut a circle close around the piece of
+bark as neatly as you could have done with a pair of sharp scissors, and lo!
+it dropped to the ground, leaving a hole in the web about the size of a ten-cent
+piece.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Rather hard on the web, Mr. Landpirate,&rdquo; said Neddy, laughing. &ldquo;Flies
+can go through there as well as chips.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>When he called the spider a land-pirate, Neddy was wrong. He was no
+more a pirate&mdash;that is, one who robs and murders&mdash;than is the woodpecker or
+swallow, for they feed on worms and insects. The spider was just as blameless
+in his work of catching and eating flies as was Neddy&rsquo;s white bantam
+when she went off into the fields after grasshoppers.</p>
+
+<p>But Neddy&rsquo;s laugh at the spider was soon cut short. The most difficult part
+of his work was done when he got rid of the piece of bark. As soon as that
+was out of his way he began moving backward and forward over the hole he
+had cut in the web, just as if he were a weaver&rsquo;s shuttle, and in about ten
+minutes it was all covered with gauzy lacework finer than ever was worn by a
+queen.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I&rsquo;ll give it up, old fellow,&rdquo; exclaimed Neddy, taking a long breath as he
+saw the work completed. &ldquo;This just beats me out.&rdquo; Spider crept down into
+his den again to wait for another fly, and Neddy, leading Tony, went on his
+way pleased and wondering.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+
+<h2><a name="Page_122lower" id="Page_122lower"></a>THE SPARROW.</h2>
+
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p class="cap">THOU humblest bird that wings the air, the Master cares for thee;<br />
+<span class="i3">And if he cares for one so small, will he not care for me?<br /></span></p>
+</div>
+
+<div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">His eye looks on thee from above, he notices thy fall;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And if he cares for such as thee, does he not care for all?<br /></span>
+</div>
+
+<div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">He feeds thee in the sweet spring-time, when skies are bright and blue;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">He feeds thee in the autumn-time, and in the winter too.<br /></span>
+</div>
+
+<div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">He leads thee through the pathless air, he guides thee in thy flight;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">He sees thee in the brightest day, and in the darkest night.<br /></span>
+</div>
+
+<div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Oh, if his loving care attends a bird so mean and small,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Will he not listen to my voice when unto him I call?<br /></span>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_123" id="Page_123">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>123]</a></span></p>
+
+<div class="figcenter ipadboth" style="width: 569px;">
+<img src="images/hd053.jpg" width="569" height="400"
+alt="Mrs Pike talks to Sarah and Jane" />
+</div>
+
+<h2>MRS. PIKE&rsquo;S PRISONERS.</h2>
+
+<p class="center">A TRUE STORY.</p>
+
+
+<p><span class="dropcap">E</span>ARLY on a cloudy April afternoon,
+many years ago, several little girls
+were playing in a village door-yard, not
+far from the fence which separated it from
+a neighbor&rsquo;s. They were building a play-house
+of boards, and were so busily occupied,
+that none of them had noticed a
+lady standing at a little four-paned window
+in the house the other side of the
+fence, who had been intently regarding
+them for some time. The window was so
+constructed as to swing back like a door,
+and being now open, the lady&rsquo;s face was
+framed against the dark background of
+the room, producing the effect of a picture.
+&rsquo;Twas a strange face, sallow and
+curiously wrinkled, with a nose like the
+beak of a hawk, and large black eyes,
+which seemed to be endowed with the
+power of perpetual motion. These roved
+from one to another of the busy builders,
+till suddenly one of them seemed to be
+aware that some one was looking at her,
+and turned towards the little window.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Ah, I know you, Wealthy Robbins!
+Come here a minute, my little dear,&rdquo; spoke
+the lady, in a shrill, quavering voice. And
+she beckoned to her with a hooked finger
+like a claw. But Wealthy shrank back,
+murmuring, &ldquo;I don&rsquo;t want to,&rdquo; almost
+under her breath, and nudging with her
+elbow the nearest girl; &ldquo;Hannah, Mrs.
+Pike wants something. See!&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Is that you, Hannah Green? Come
+over here, and I&rsquo;ll give you a piece of my
+Passover candy.&rdquo; And the lady waved in
+the air a long candle-rod entwined with a
+strip of scarlet flannel, which made it look
+like a mammoth stick of peppermint candy.</p>
+
+<p>This attracted the attention of all the
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_124" id="Page_124">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>124]</a></span>
+girls, and going close to the fence, they
+peered through, while she besought them,
+with enticing promises and imploring eyes,
+to come around under the window, for
+she had something to tell them.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Don&rsquo;t let&rsquo;s go,&rdquo; whispered Mary
+Green, the oldest of the group. &ldquo;Mother
+told me never to go near her window
+when she&rsquo;s standing there, for she&rsquo;s a
+crazy woman. That stick isn&rsquo;t candy no
+more than I am.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Come, Sarah; I always knew you
+were a kind little girl,&rdquo; said Mrs. Pike, in
+a coaxing tone, to the youngest and smallest
+of the group; &ldquo;<em>do</em> come here just a
+minute.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>At last, Sarah Holmes and her sister
+Jane went around, and stood under the
+little window. Jane said it could do no
+harm just to go and see what Mrs. Pike
+wanted, and if <em>she</em> was shut up in jail,
+she guessed she&rsquo;d want a good many
+things.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Now, you dear little lambs, you see I&rsquo;m
+all alone in the house; and they&rsquo;ve gone
+away, and forgotten to give me my dinner;
+and I&rsquo;m <em>very</em> hungry. All I want is a
+little unleavened bread, for this is Passover
+Day, you know. Well, you just
+climb in through the dining-room window,
+little Sarah,&mdash;Jane can help you,&mdash;and
+unlock my door, so I can go to the buttery
+and get some bread. Then I&rsquo;ll bring
+you out a nice saucer mince pie, and
+come back here, and you can lock me in.
+They&rsquo;ll never know; and I shall starve if
+you don&rsquo;t take pity on me.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>After some whispering together, the little
+girls did as they were bidden, notwithstanding
+the warnings of their mates the
+other side of the fence. When they had
+disappeared from view, Mary Green
+turned away, and began to hammer, as
+though she was driving a nail into Mrs.
+Pike&rsquo;s head, or Jane Holmes&rsquo;s, or somebody&rsquo;s,
+ejaculating, &ldquo;I guess they&rsquo;ll rue
+this day.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Which prophetic words came very near
+being verified at the moment they were
+spoken. For no sooner had Jane unlocked
+the door of Mrs. Pike&rsquo;s room,
+than out sprang that lady, and clutched
+one of the little girls with either hand,
+almost shrieking, &ldquo;Ah, I know you! you
+belong to that wicked and rebellious tribe
+of Korah. Why didn&rsquo;t you come over
+to the help of the mighty immediately?
+Now, you shall see how <em>you</em> like dwelling
+in the Cave of Machpelah for a day and
+a night, and a month and a year, until He
+shall come whose right it is to reign.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>And she thrust the trembling, awe-struck
+children into the room that had
+been her prison, and turned the key upon
+them. Then away she strode out of the
+house and up the street, a noticeable
+figure, truly, in her short yellow nankeen
+dress, with pantalets of the same, and
+neat white Quaker cap, with long white
+ribbons crossed under her chin, and carrying
+an immense umbrella over her head.
+It was strange that none of the nearest
+neighbors should see her pass. The
+front door was on the opposite side of
+the house from where the little girls were
+playing; so they did not observe her exit;
+and thus it happened that the crazy lady,
+who had been confined in the house for
+weeks, escaped without any check upon
+her triumphant progress. Busy women,
+seeing her from their windows, thought
+Mrs. Pike must be better again, to be out,
+and did wish her friends wouldn&rsquo;t let her
+walk the streets looking like a Dutch
+woman. Boys paused in their games almost
+respectfully, as she passed by; for
+notwithstanding her strange appearance
+and rapid movements, there was an air
+of mysterious command about the woman
+which checked any rudeness.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;There goes Madam Pike,&rdquo; exclaimed
+one ragged-kneed boy, when she had
+passed out of hearing. &ldquo;Got on her
+ascension-robe&mdash;hasn&rsquo;t she? Wonder
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_125" id="Page_125">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>125]</a></span>
+if that umberil will help her any? I say,
+boys, do you suppose all the saints that
+walk the streets of the new Jerusalem look
+like her?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>While Mrs. Pike walked rapidly on,
+with a keen appreciation of the fresh air
+and occasional gleams of sunshine, the
+little prisoners drooped like two April
+violets plucked and thrown upon the
+ground. They were so frightened and
+awe-struck, that the idea of calling for
+help from the open window did not occur
+to them; and they crouched upon the
+floor, melancholy and mute. After a
+while, some odd-looking garments, hanging
+in a row on one side of the room,
+attracted their attention; but they did not
+dare to go near them at first. Mrs. Pike
+was what was called a Second Adventist,
+and had read the Bible and Apocrypha
+with a fiery zeal, and an earnest determination
+to find therein proof of what she
+believed, and had attended Second Advent
+meetings, and exhorted wherever she
+could get a hearing, until her poor brain
+was crazed. But lately her husband and
+friends had kept her in doors as much as
+possible; and she spent most of the time
+knitting ascension-robes for the saints of
+the twelve tribes of the house of Judah.
+These were long garments, coming nearly
+to the feet, each of a single color, royal
+purple and blue being her favorites. She
+said that she must improve every moment,
+lest the great and dreadful day of the Lord
+should come, and she should not be ready,
+i.&nbsp;e., would not have a robe prepared for
+each of the saints to ascend in. When
+her son, a boy of twelve, died, she had
+him buried by the front doorstep, so,
+when the procession of saints should
+pass out at the door, Erastus could join
+them immediately, and not have to come
+from the burying-ground, a mile away.</p>
+
+<p>It was after sunset when Mr. Pike
+passed along the village street, on his
+way home, and was informed by a good
+woman, standing at her gate, that his
+wife had gone by about one o&rsquo;clock, and
+that, not long after, Jane and Sarah
+Holmes were missed. Some little girls
+they had been playing with had seen them
+get into Mr. Pike&rsquo;s house through the
+dining-room window, and that was the
+last that had been seen or heard of them.
+Mrs. Holmes was going on dreadfully;
+for she thought that, as likely as not,
+Madam Pike had thrown them down in
+the well, or hid them where they would
+never be found, and then run away. The
+bewildered man hurried home to harness
+his horse, and go in search of his wife;
+for, with a trust in her better nature,
+worthy of a woman, he believed that she
+would tell him where the children were, if
+she knew. Fortunately, he found her in a
+tavern about a mile from home, preaching,
+as the children would say. As usual,
+she was exhorting her hearers to prepare
+for the great and terrible day of the Lord,
+etc., etc.; but when her husband appeared
+in the doorway, the thread of her discourse
+was suddenly broken, and she
+turned and accosted him with, &ldquo;Ah, Mr.
+Pike, have you seen my prisoners in the
+Cave of Machpelah? They belong to that
+wicked and rebellious tribe of Korah, you
+know.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Well, Mary, let&rsquo;s go home, and see
+how they are getting along,&rdquo; said he, in a
+confident tone; for he instantly divined
+who her prisoners were, and that the
+Cave of Machpelah could not be far away.</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Pike was quite willing to go with
+him, and worried all the way home; for
+she said prisoners were always in mischief,
+and there were the robes hanging
+in the cave, which she had forgotten to
+put out of their reach. So when they
+arrived, her first act was to unlock the
+door of the children&rsquo;s prison. And her
+next was to pounce upon them with even
+more vigor than when she emerged from
+it in the afternoon. For there they lay
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_126" id="Page_126">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>126]</a></span>
+asleep on the carpet, Jane in a purple
+robe, and Sarah in a green, their hands
+and feet invisible by reason of the great
+length of their garments.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Don&rsquo;t hurt them, Mary,&rdquo; said Mr.
+Pike. For she was hustling off the precious
+robes before the little girls were fairly
+awake; and they might have fared hardly,
+had not the kind man been present to see
+that justice was done; to wit, that they
+were compensated for their imprisonment
+by pockets full of cakes and fruit, and
+sent home to their mother without delay.
+That happy woman did not send them
+supperless to bed, nor say a word about
+punishing them, either then or afterwards.
+Perhaps she guessed that their punishment
+had already been sufficiently severe.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;O, mother,&rdquo; said Jane, &ldquo;at first we
+didn&rsquo;t dare to stir or speak, for fear the
+crazy lady was listening; and she seemed
+angry enough to kill us. I felt as if my
+hair was turning gray, and Sarah looked
+as white as the wall. Well, after a great
+many hours, we began to look about the
+room, and we saw those queer gowns she
+knits, hanging in a row; and we got up
+and looked at them. By and by we got
+so tired doing nothing, that we took them
+down and tried them on, and played we
+were the saints. We tried to fly, but the
+old things were so heavy and long, that
+we couldn&rsquo;t even jump. And after a
+while we were so tired that we lay
+down and went to sleep, and never
+woke till Mrs. Pike came home. O, but
+&rsquo;twas the lonesomest, longest, dreariest
+afternoon we ever, ever knew&mdash;wasn&rsquo;t it,
+Sarah?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>This was the story, with variations,
+which the Holmes girls had to tell to
+their mates the next day, and the next,
+and so on, until it ceased to be a novelty.</p>
+
+<p>But Mrs. Pike&rsquo;s prisoners were heroines,
+in the estimation of the village girls
+and boys, for more than one year, and
+doubtless still remember and tell to their
+children the story of their afternoon in
+the Cave of Machpelah.</p>
+
+<p class="sig">M. R. W.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+
+<h2><a name="Page_126lower" id="Page_126lower"></a>WAR AND PEACE.</h2>
+
+
+<h3 class="smcap">War.</h3>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p class="cap">THE warrior waves his standard high,<br />
+<span class="i3">His falchion flashes in the fray;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">He madly shouts his battle-cry,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And glories in a well-fought day.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But Famine&rsquo;s at the city gate,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And Rapine prowls without the walls;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The city round lies desolate,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">While Havoc&rsquo;s blighting footstep falls.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">By ruined hearths, by homes defiled,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">In scenes that nature&rsquo;s visage mar,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">We feel the storm of passions wild,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And pluck the bitter fruit of war.<br /></span></p>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+
+<h3 class="smcap">Peace.</h3>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">The cobweb hangs on Sword and belt,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">The charger draws the gliding plow;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The cannons in the furnace melt,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And change to gentle purpose now;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The threshers swing their ponderous flails,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">The craftsmen toil with cheerful might;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The ocean swarms with merchant sails,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And busy mills look gay by night;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The happy land becomes renowned,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">As knowledge, arts, and wealth increase,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And thus, with plenty smiling round,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">We cull the blessed fruits of peace.<br /></span>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_127" id="Page_127">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>127]</a></span></p>
+
+<div class="figcenter ipadtop" style="width: 428px;">
+<img src="images/hd054.jpg" width="428" height="600"
+alt="Two soldiers with horses; more armed soldiers are visible in the distance" />
+</div>
+
+<p class="caption">WAR.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_128" id="Page_128">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>128]</a></span></p>
+
+<h2>CHERRY-TIME.</h2>
+
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p class="cap">OH, cherry-time is a merry time!&rdquo;<br />
+<span class="i3">We children used to say&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">&ldquo;The merriest throughout the year,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">For all is bright and gay.&rdquo;<br /></span></p>
+</div>
+
+<div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">&ldquo;Oh, cherry-time is a merry time!&rdquo;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">The air is fresh and sweet,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And fair flowers in the garden bloom,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And daisies &rsquo;neath our feet.<br /></span>
+</div>
+
+<div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">&ldquo;Oh, cherry-time is a merry time!&rdquo;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">For hanging on the tree,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">All round and glistening in the sun,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">The pretty fruit we see.<br /></span>
+</div>
+
+<div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">&ldquo;Oh, cherry-time is a merry time!&rdquo;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Up in the tree so high<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">We children climbed, and, laughing, said,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">&ldquo;Almost into the sky.&rdquo;<br /></span>
+</div>
+
+<div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">&ldquo;Oh, cherry-time is a merry time!&rdquo;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">The robins thought so too,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And helped themselves to &ldquo;cherries ripe&rdquo;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">While wet with morning dew.<br /></span>
+</div>
+
+<div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">&ldquo;Oh, cherry-time is a merry time!&rdquo;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">The sunshine and the showers<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Of God&rsquo;s rich mercy fall on us<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">In happy childhood&rsquo;s hours.<br /></span>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_129" id="Page_129">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>129]</a></span></p>
+
+<div class="figcenter ipadtop" style="width: 408px;">
+<img src="images/hd055.jpg" width="408" height="600"
+alt="A boy feeds a cherry to another boy" />
+</div>
+
+<p class="caption">CHERRY-TIME.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_130" id="Page_130">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>130]</a></span></p>
+
+<div class="figcenter ipadboth" style="width: 440px;">
+<img src="images/hd056.jpg" width="440" height="400"
+alt="The boys in the pond, fishing with rods" />
+</div>
+
+<h2>THE DAVY BOYS&rsquo; FISHING-POND.</h2>
+
+
+<p><span class="dropcap">B</span>OYS,&rdquo; said Mr. Davy, &ldquo;how
+would you like to have a fishing-pond?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>The five boys looked at him eagerly, to
+see if he were in earnest.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;O, splendid, papa!&rdquo; say they in chorus;
+&ldquo;but how <em>can</em> we have a fishing-pond?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;You know that hollow down in the
+pasture,&rdquo; continued Mr. Davy, &ldquo;and what
+a blemish it is upon the farm. I have
+wondered if we could not make it useful
+in some way, and at the same time improve
+the looks of things. I think we
+might build an embankment upon the
+open side, make the slope steeper all
+round, bring the water into it from the
+creek, and so have a fishing-pond. We
+should have to make a race-way from the
+creek to the pond, and cut a channel
+through the meadow, in which the water
+could flow back to the creek again below
+the fall. I think it could be done,&rdquo; said
+Mr. Davy, after a pause, &ldquo;only there
+would be a great deal of work necessary,
+and we could hardly afford to hire it done.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_131" id="Page_131">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>131]</a></span>
+&ldquo;O, father, <em>we</em> can do the digging,&rdquo;
+shouted five voices in chorus; &ldquo;we can
+do it with our spades and wheelbarrows.
+School doesn&rsquo;t begin for a month yet, and
+we can get it all done in that time.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Hurrah for a fish-pond!&rdquo; cried Percy,
+and in imagination he fairly felt the bites
+of the three-pound trout he was to catch
+before summer was over.</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Davy is a practical farmer. By
+that I mean that he cultivates the land
+with his own hands. He, with his men,
+and those of the boys who are old enough,
+are in the fields every morning in summer
+by five o&rsquo;clock, ploughing, planting, sowing,
+or milking the cows, and, later in the
+season, haying, harvesting, or threshing.
+Tommy, the eldest of his sons, is thirteen
+years old; Clarence, the youngest, is
+five.</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Davy had been thinking of the fishing-pond
+for some time, and had matured
+the plan in his mind before speaking of it
+to the boys. The morning after the conversation
+of which I have told you, I saw
+the five boys standing in thoughtful silence
+upon the bank above the hollow in
+the pasture. I do not believe the engineer
+who is planning the bridge across the
+British Channel, to connect England and
+France, feels anymore responsibility than
+did the Davy boys that morning.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;May we begin to-day, father?&rdquo; said
+they, eagerly, at breakfast-time.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Yes; and Patrick can help you,&rdquo; was
+the reply.</p>
+
+<p>The horses were harnessed to the
+plough, and driven to the hollow. Patrick
+was instructed how to proceed. He
+put the reins round his neck, and took
+firm hold of the handles. &ldquo;Go on wid
+ye, now!&rdquo; he cried to the horses. A
+furrow was soon turned, and the fish-pond
+fairly begun.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Your work,&rdquo; said Mr. Davy to the
+boys, &ldquo;will be to wheel away the earth
+which Patrick ploughs out. The first
+thing is to lay a plank for your wheelbarrows
+to run upon.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Tommy and George soon brought the
+planks from the tool-house. Blocks were
+laid the proper distance apart to sustain
+them, and, after two or three hours&rsquo; work,
+a line of plank, which looked to the boys
+as grand as the new Pacific Railway,
+stretched across the hollow. The little
+laborers went in to dinner flushed with excitement
+and hard work, but as happy, I
+dare say, as if they had been to Barnum&rsquo;s
+Museum, and seen the wax figures and
+wild animals.</p>
+
+<p>Patrick had, during the forenoon,
+ploughed a good many furrows, and now
+the boys were busy enough carrying away
+the earth. Each had a wheelbarrow of
+his own&mdash;Clarence&rsquo;s a toy, which, with a
+tiny spade, his father had brought from
+the city with a view to the work now
+in progress. It required a steady hand to
+keep the wheelbarrows upon the plank.
+They <em>would</em> run off once in a while, and
+then all hands halted, and lifted them
+upon the track again. The earth was to
+be deposited&mdash;&ldquo;dumped,&rdquo; the boys said&mdash;upon
+the site of the new embankment.
+As the first loads were overturned, Mr.
+Davy made his appearance.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;This fish-pond must have an outlet,
+you know,&rdquo; said he, &ldquo;at the point where
+the bottom is lowest. I will measure it
+off for you, and drive three stakes on either
+side. Here we will have a gate; for
+our pond will need emptying and cleaning
+occasionally. Fish will not live in impure
+water.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>The boys were delighted. All this excavating,
+laying out of earthworks, and
+planning of gate-way, seemed like real
+engineering. They were re&euml;nforced, after
+a while, by Patrick and the horses; and
+then how suddenly they became tired, his
+shovelfuls were so large in comparison
+with theirs&mdash;his wagon carried away so
+much more at a load!</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_132" id="Page_132">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>132]</a></span>
+Pretty early that evening little Clarence
+crept into his mother&rsquo;s lap, and told her
+a marvellous story of the amount of earth
+he had wheeled away; but his tired little
+eyes acted as though some of it had blown
+between their lids; and soon mamma
+tucked him away for twelve hours&rsquo; sleep.</p>
+
+<p>The hollow in the pasture, I forgot
+to say, was half an acre in extent,
+and appeared as though Nature had
+scooped it out on purpose to make a place
+for the Davy boys&rsquo; fishing-pond. The
+creek, too, running nearly alongside, was
+there to supply it with water.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;What shall we ever do with that hill?&rdquo;
+said Percy, pointing to a rise of ground
+on one side the hollow, as he and his
+brothers were surveying their work; &ldquo;we
+never can cart all that away, nor dig up
+those trees, either.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Let&rsquo;s leave it for an island,&rdquo; said
+Frank&mdash;&ldquo;a <em>real</em> island&mdash;land with water
+all round it&rdquo; (he had just begun studying
+geography); &ldquo;and the trees will make
+a splendid grove, where we can have picnics.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;The island will afford a harbor for the
+boat, too,&rdquo; said Mr. Davy, who had just
+joined the children. &ldquo;I suppose you will
+want a boat on your pond&mdash;will you not?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>The boys could scarcely believe their
+ears. A boat of their own, on their own
+pond! They had never dreamed of anything
+half so nice.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Time to be at work!&rdquo; said Mr. Davy.</p>
+
+<p>All the forenoon, as I watched them
+from my window, I saw the embankment
+growing slowly, but steadily, while the
+sloping sides of the hollow became steeper
+and steeper. At night a visible step
+had been taken towards a fishing-pond.</p>
+
+<p>I cannot tell you about every one of
+the days during which the Davy boys
+worked so industriously. At last, however,
+the excavation was completed, the
+embankment raised to the desired height.
+The frame for the gate-way stood firm
+between its crowding sides. Gates were in
+progress at the carpenter&rsquo;s, made of solid
+plank, a door sliding up and down over
+an open space near the bottom. This
+was easily worked by means of a handle
+at the top.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;And now,&rdquo; said Mr. Davy, &ldquo;to get
+the water into the pond. Patrick and
+Michael must build a dam a little way up
+the creek and the race-way from a point
+just above. We shall need a gate similar
+to the one at the outlet.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>The boys were glad to give way to Patrick
+and Michael, when it came to building
+dams and race-ways. In the mean
+time they assisted the mason who was
+lining the embankment on either side the
+gate with stone, to protect it against the
+action of the water. The stone-boat, a
+little, flat vehicle which slides over the
+ground without wheels, was brought out,
+for piles of stone were to be drawn from
+a distant part of the farm.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;But I shall want one of you to carry
+the hod for me,&rdquo; said the mason.</p>
+
+<p>It was arranged that they should take
+turns at this; so one would stay and fill
+with mortar the queer little box which
+hod-carriers use, and bear it on his shoulders
+to the mason, who was fast laying
+the curved wall.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Why do you have the wall laid in this
+rounding shape, papa?&rdquo; asked George.
+&ldquo;Why not have it straight?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Because the curve makes it stronger
+to resist the force of the water. You notice
+that the mason chooses stones which
+are larger at one end than at the other.
+He lays them so that the larger ends form
+the outer side of the curve&mdash;the smaller
+form the inner or shorter side, as you see
+by looking at this wall. The stones, thus
+wedged against each other, could not be
+as easily forced out of place as if they
+were square in shape, and laid in a straight
+line. Imagine the water pressing upon
+the inner side of the curve. How readily
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_133" id="Page_133">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>133]</a></span>
+the wall would give way, and the water
+come pouring through! Have you never
+observed, children,&rdquo; continued Mr. Davy,
+&ldquo;that in bridges, culverts, or any structure
+which is to sustain a heavy weight,
+the foundations are always laid in the form
+of an arch?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Yes, papa,&rdquo; answered George; &ldquo;but
+I never knew why it was. I see now that
+it is to make them strong.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>The boys had quite enough of hod-carrying
+and stone-quarrying before the
+wall was done. In fact, Patrick was
+pressed into the service repeatedly. The
+hod became too uneasy a burden for the
+boys&rsquo; shoulders, even though it was padded
+with sheep-skin.</p>
+
+<p>A channel to convey the water from the
+pond was now the only thing wanting.
+This was speedily begun, and the little
+workmen found themselves down in a
+trench behind a low rampart of earth.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Let&rsquo;s play we are soldiers,&rdquo; said
+George. &ldquo;We&rsquo;ll have Patrick and Michael
+for captain and lieutenant (only
+they must work, if they <em>are</em> officers), and
+papa for general and engineer.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Each little soldier did his best. The
+officers worked faithfully. The engineer
+came round often, and the dark thread
+across the bright, green meadow spun out
+rapidly.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Let&rsquo;s elect Frank quartermaster,&rdquo;
+said Tommy; &ldquo;then he&rsquo;ll go to headquarters,
+and make requisition for rations.
+<em>I</em> think it&rsquo;s time for dinner.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Tell mother to send a big basketful,
+Frank. Soldiers get awful hungry,&rdquo; said
+Percy.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Tell mother we want to make coffee
+in the field, too,&rdquo; said George. &ldquo;Real soldiers
+do.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>I fear that Patrick and Michael did
+most of the work after this, for the department
+of the commissary seemed to
+require the attention of all the boys.</p>
+
+<p>Mamma was willing to issue rations in
+the field. &ldquo;But,&rdquo; said she, &ldquo;soldiers
+often have only hard tack and coffee. I
+suppose you will want nothing more.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>This was a view of the case for which
+the boys were not prepared. They did
+not wish to seem unsoldierly, but they
+were very hungry.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;You know, mother,&rdquo; said Percy, &ldquo;soldiers
+had bacon sometimes with their hard
+tack.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;And we are only <em>playing</em> soldiers.
+We ain&rsquo;t <em>real</em> soldiers,&rdquo; said matter-of-fact
+Clarence.</p>
+
+<p>His brothers were quite ashamed that
+he should give this as a reason for wanting
+a good dinner, yet when they saw
+the pies and cakes going into the basket,
+they made no remarks.</p>
+
+<p>While the quartermaster was at the
+house, Tommy and George had built a
+fire, to boil the coffee. Two crotched
+stakes were driven firmly in the ground.
+A stout rod lay across them, and on this
+hung the kettle. A lively fire was burning
+underneath, the water boiling. In a
+few moments the coffee was made.</p>
+
+<p>After washing carefully in the creek,&mdash;for
+everything must be done as soldiers
+do,&mdash;all sat down in a circle on the
+ground. The coffee was served in tin
+cups; but shall I confess that our soldiers
+were so unsoldierlike as to drink it
+with cream and sugar?</p>
+
+<p>Patrick and Michael partook; but as
+they were absent directly afterwards, under
+pretence of smoking a noon pipe, I
+fancy they ate still further rations in the
+farm-house kitchen. The boys, however,
+said it was the best dinner they ever ate
+in their lives.</p>
+
+<p>They were now ready for a visit from
+the general. &ldquo;We will have these breastworks,&rdquo;
+said he, &ldquo;smoothed down in regular
+shape, and sow grass-seed upon them,
+so that in a few weeks there will be a
+green slope in place of these unsightly
+clods.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_134" id="Page_134">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>134]</a></span>
+I assure you that as I look from my
+window while writing this story, those
+slopes appear very pretty, with the merry,
+sparkling stream flowing between.</p>
+
+<p>But I must hasten; for you will be
+anxious to know that the pond, gates,
+outlet, and all were done at last. Then
+came the day upon which the water was
+to be let in. A great day it was for the
+whole neighborhood. All the boys for a
+mile round were there to see.</p>
+
+<p>When everything was ready, Mr. Davy,
+who was up at the dam, hoisted the gate;
+the water came rushing through; in a few
+moments it had reached the end of its
+course, and poured over into the pond.</p>
+
+<p>Such a shout as rose from the throats
+of the forty or fifty boys! It must have
+surprised those placid meadows and the
+great solemn rocks around. And you
+would have thought the sleepy old hills
+had actually been startled into life, such
+sounding echoes they sent back in answer.</p>
+
+<p>The water spread itself thinly at first
+over the bottom of the pond. Slowly it
+rose; the little hollows were filled up,
+the slight elevations hidden from sight.
+Gradually it closed round the tiny green
+island which stood out above its surface
+like an emerald set in shining silver. By
+night the pond was full. The water began
+running over the top of the gate,
+making the prettiest little waterfall, and
+over it a light spray rose softly towards
+the evening sky.</p>
+
+<p>Bright and early the next morning there
+was commotion at the Davys&rsquo;. The boys
+were going to Maxwell&rsquo;s Creek, ten miles
+away, fishing. Mrs. Davy was stirring
+round, preparing their lunch. George
+and Percy hurried to the stable.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Come, Brown Billy,&rdquo; said Percy to
+the favorite pony; &ldquo;time to get up and
+have your breakfast. We are all going
+fishing to-day;&rdquo; and he laid his hand
+smartly upon the pony&rsquo;s back.</p>
+
+<p>Brown Billy raised his head, opened
+his eyes in astonishment to see the boys
+so early in his stall; but hearing their
+merry voices, he seemed to understand
+the situation at once, and to be in full
+sympathy with them. An extra allowance
+of oats was put in the manger, and
+while the boys were eating their breakfast
+in the house, Brown Billy leisurely
+munched his in the stable. Then, after a
+draught from the pump, he was put into
+the traces. Two casks and a large basket
+were lifted in, the luncheon deposited,
+and soon they were on their way. The
+sun was just peeping above the horizon,
+spreading a crimson glory over every hill,
+and tree, and shrub; but this was so familiar
+a sight to the Davy boys, that it
+caused no remark, though they were not
+insensible to its beauty.</p>
+
+<p>The scene of their day&rsquo;s sport was a
+beautiful glen among the hills, through
+which the stream, a genuine, untaught
+child of the woods, jumped and tumbled
+at its own wild will, now leaping from
+precipices in the loveliest cataracts, then
+fretting noisily over its stony bed, and, a
+little farther on, flowing as smoothly as
+if it never thought of foaming or fretting
+in all its course.</p>
+
+<p>Tommy tied Brown Billy to a tree,
+giving him a long tether, that he might
+pick at the fresh grass.</p>
+
+<p>Trout are the most delicate of fishes,
+and require careful treatment. Indeed,
+they are quite the aristocracy of the finny
+tribe. Mr. Davy had given Patrick directions
+not to allow them to be caught
+with a hook, as it could not be taken
+from their mouths without causing much
+pain, and perhaps death.</p>
+
+<p>Patrick chose a place in the stream
+where the channel was narrow, but deep,
+and waded in.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Now, boys,&rdquo; said he, &ldquo;yes all go
+above a little way, wade out into the
+sthrame, and bate the wather with yer
+fish-poles. This will drive thim down,
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_135" id="Page_135">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>135]</a></span>
+and I&rsquo;ll see what I can do wid the basket.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>The boys pulled off shoes and stockings,
+and rolled their trousers above the
+knees. Clarence sat on the bank, paddling
+with his bare feet in the stream.
+Stepping out into the creek, they hopped
+from one mossy stone to another, the
+water pleasantly laving their feet. Standing
+in a row across the stream, they began
+beating rather gently, at the same time
+walking slowly forward, hoping to drive
+the fish before them. Presently Patrick
+brought up the basket, the water streaming
+from it as it did from Simple Simon&rsquo;s
+sieve, and in the bottom, wriggling and
+squirming, lay four fine trout. Tommy
+seized the basket, and in an instant the
+fish were within the cask, in their native
+element again, though in rather close
+quarters. The boys hung over the barrel,
+gazing at the pretty creatures with intense
+delight. The sun shone down into the
+water, making the bright spots on their
+sides look like gold.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Never mind, little trout,&rdquo; said Franky;
+&ldquo;you are not going to be hurt&mdash;only
+moved to our fish-pond.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Do you not think they enjoyed that day
+far more because there was no cruelty in
+their sport?</p>
+
+<p>Their amusement was varied by a delicious
+lunch, and an occasional ramble
+through the woods. Towards evening
+they drove home, elated with their success.
+The cask contained nearly as many
+fish as could swim. The second cask
+was filled with fresh water, to replace
+that in the first when it should no longer
+be fit for the use of the fish. These delicate
+little trout are so sensitive to any
+impurity, that they could not have remained
+in the same water during the drive
+home without suffering. Indeed, they
+might have died before reaching the pond.</p>
+
+<p>My young readers may not know that
+fish breathe an element of the water
+which is a part of air also. In fact, the
+same element which sustains us sustains
+them also, viz., oxygen. Only one ninth
+part of water, however, is oxygen, while of
+air it is one fifth. I dare say you have all
+seen goldfishes, shut up in crystal prisons,
+swimming their endless round in a quart
+or two of water. Perhaps you have observed
+them lifting their heads above the
+surface, mouths wide open, gasping for
+breath. The oxygen is exhausted from
+the water, and unless it be speedily
+changed their mistress will lose her beautiful
+pets.</p>
+
+<p>The trout were put into the pond&mdash;a
+small beginning, to be sure; but it <em>was</em>
+a beginning. How lonely they must have
+been at first! What a boundless ocean
+it must have seemed to them!</p>
+
+<p>We will hope they found some cosy
+harbor in the grassy-lined sides of the
+island, where they could meet together
+and talk over their strange experience of
+moving. Plenty of company came soon,
+however; for all the boys in the neighborhood
+were interested in stocking the
+pond.</p>
+
+<p>A boat was in progress in Mr. Davy&rsquo;s
+tool-house. The boys watched every
+inch of its growth, from the shaping of
+the skeleton frame to the last dash of the
+paint-brush. When it was done, the seats
+put across from side to side, the coatings
+of white paint laid on, and elevated upon
+four stakes to dry its glistening sides, the
+boys thought nothing was ever half so
+beautiful; but when they saw it upon the
+pond, gently rocking from side to side,
+the oars hanging in the locks, and lazily
+swaying to the motion of the water, it
+seemed to them more beautiful still.</p>
+
+<p>This is not all a fancy sketch, dear boys
+and girls. Perhaps some of the farmer
+children who read it may persuade their
+papas to make a fishing-pond of some
+unsightly &ldquo;hollow in the pasture&rdquo; upon
+their own farms.</p>
+
+<p class="sig">L. M. D.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_136" id="Page_136">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>136]</a></span></p>
+
+<div class="figcenter ipadtop" style="width: 444px;">
+<img src="images/hd057.jpg" width="444" height="600"
+alt="The boy feeds his dog scraps from his plate" />
+</div>
+
+<p class="caption">THE LITTLE SAVOYARD AND HIS DOG.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_137" id="Page_137">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>137]</a></span></p>
+
+<h2>STORIES ABOUT DOGS.</h2>
+
+
+<p><span class="dropcap">A</span> NEWFOUNDLAND dog belonging to a gentleman in Edinburgh was
+in the habit of receiving a penny each day from his master, which he
+always took to a baker&rsquo;s shop and bought a loaf of bread for himself. One
+day a bad penny was given him by a gentleman by way of frolic. Dandie
+ran off with it to the baker&rsquo;s, as usual, but was refused a loaf. The poor dog
+waited a moment, as if considering what to do; he then returned to the house
+of the gentleman who had given him the bad coin; and when the servant
+opened the door, he laid it at her feet and walked away with an air of
+contempt.</p>
+
+<p>Some dogs are fond of music, while others seem not to be affected by it in
+the slightest degree. These two anecdotes are related by the author of a recent
+volume. He is speaking of a friend: &ldquo;As soon as the lamp is lighted and
+placed on the sitting-room table, a large dog of the water-spaniel breed usually
+jumps up and curls himself around the lamp. He never upsets it, but remains
+perfectly still. Now, my friend is very musical, but during the time the piano
+is being played the dog remains perfectly unmoved, until a particular piece is
+played. He will not take the slightest notice of loud or soft pieces, neither
+sentimental nor comic, but instantly the old tune entitled &lsquo;Drops of Brandy&rsquo;
+is played, he invariably raises his head and begins to howl most piteously,
+relapsing into his usual state of lethargy as soon as this tune is stopped. My
+friend cannot account for this action of the dog in any way, nor can we learn
+from any source the reason of its dislike.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Again, the wife of a hotel-keeper, lately deceased, possessed a pet lap-dog
+which delighted in listening to its mistress playing on the piano; if the usual
+hour for her daily practice passed by, the dog would grow impatient, snap and
+bark, and be perfectly uneasy until the lady consented to gratify its wishes by
+sitting down to the instrument and playing a few tunes. During this operation
+the dog would sit motionless on a chair by her side; and when the music
+was ended, he would jump down, quite satisfied for that day.&rdquo;</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+
+<h2><a name="Page_137lower" id="Page_137lower"></a>A CHILD&rsquo;S PRAYER.</h2>
+
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p class="cap">JESUS, tender Shepherd, hear me;<br />
+<span class="i2">Bless thy little lamb to-night;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Through the darkness be thou near me,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Keep me safe till morning light.<br /></span></p>
+</div>
+
+<div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Through the day thy hand hath led me,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And I thank thee for thy care;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Thou hast warmed and fed and clothed me,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Listen to my evening prayer.<br /></span>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_138" id="Page_138">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>138]</a></span></p>
+
+<div class="figcenter ipadboth" style="width: 516px;">
+<img src="images/hd058.jpg" width="516" height="350"
+alt="A man jumps from one steam locomotive to another" />
+</div>
+
+<h2>JOHN STOCKS AND &ldquo;THE BISON.&rdquo;</h2>
+
+
+<p><span class="dropcap">O</span>NE winter afternoon, as Archy
+Douglas sat studying his lessons,
+Mrs. Falkoner, the housekeeper, came
+to invite him to have tea in her room.
+While they were at the table, they heard
+the kitchen bell ring, at which Mrs. Falkoner
+seemed surprised, for she said the
+weather would incline few people to leave
+their own firesides.</p>
+
+<p>It turned out, however, to be a visitor
+for Mrs. Falkoner herself, for in a few
+minutes one of the servants came to say
+a person who called himself John Stocks
+wanted to see her, and John presented
+himself in the doorway without further
+delay.</p>
+
+<p>An active man, with the look, at first
+sight, of the mate of a ship, he stood
+gently stamping the snow off his boots
+on the door mat, laughing in a low tone,
+as if he was very much pleased to see the
+worthy Mrs. Falkoner, and was enjoying
+her stare of astonishment to the full.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Dear bless me, John, is it really you?&rdquo;
+said Mrs. Falkoner, almost running to
+meet him. &ldquo;Whatever wind has blown
+you here?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;No wind at all, Mary; nought but the
+snow,&rdquo; he said, laughing: but correcting
+himself, he added, &ldquo;Ah, well, there was
+a wind, after all, for we&rsquo;re fairly drifted up
+a few miles t&rsquo;other side of the Junction;
+and so I got leave to run over and see
+you: not often I get the chance&mdash;is it,
+now?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>All this time he had been taking off
+his outer coat; and when he was fairly
+in the room, Archy found he was a young
+man, certainly not more than thirty. He
+had crisp black hair, a bold, manly face,
+very red with exposure to the weather, and
+at the same time expressive of great determination
+of character. But one peculiarity
+about his face was, that though so
+young, his forehead was not only scarred
+and lined, but round his eyes and about
+his mouth it was puckered and wrinkled
+to a most extraordinary degree. Archy
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_139" id="Page_139">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>139]</a></span>
+felt a great curiosity about him, but was
+not long left in doubt, for Mrs. Falkoner
+took care to make her visitor known to
+the young gentleman as her youngest
+half brother and an engine-driver on the
+main line.</p>
+
+<p>A remarkably quiet man did John
+Stocks seem in regard to general conversation;
+he said very little about the
+weather, and less about things going on
+in the great world, and anything he did
+say on these topics had almost to be
+coaxed out of him. However, he evidently
+took great delight in giving all the
+family news, even to the most minute
+particular.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Of course you&rsquo;ve heard,&rdquo; he said,
+warming one hand at the fire, &ldquo;that Bob&rsquo;s
+come home from America. Then that
+old Thompson has given up the shop.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Yes; so I heard,&rdquo; said Mrs. Falkoner,
+pouring out another cup of tea, not
+appearing to take very great interest in
+them. &ldquo;No accidents on your line lately,
+I hope.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Not much,&rdquo; was the answer, and he
+again went back to the family news.
+&ldquo;Jenny&rsquo;s got a baby,&rdquo; he said, suddenly,
+with great glee, as if this piece of news
+was far before any other.</p>
+
+<p>This intelligence at least was news to
+Mrs. Falkoner, and she listened to all he
+had to say about it with great interest.</p>
+
+<p>But when Mrs. Falkoner was called
+away for a few minutes, it became necessary
+for Archy to entertain the visitor till
+her return.</p>
+
+<p>Of course Archy had many questions
+to put about the railway and the engines,
+and dangers and catastrophes. John was
+excessively civil, and on this subject was
+full of intelligence; but when he was
+asked if his own engine had broken down
+in the snow, he became quite horrified, if
+not indignant.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;What, master, broke down?&rdquo; he said.
+&ldquo;Not a bit o&rsquo;t. I&rsquo;d back the old Bison
+against a drift twice as heavy. But, d&rsquo;ye
+see, when you comes and finds an engine
+and seven wagons o&rsquo; minerals, and another
+engine, and wagons besides that all
+ahead o&rsquo; ye, and stuck fast, why, I says,
+ye must give in. There ain&rsquo;t no use expecting
+yer engine to drive <em>through</em> &rsquo;em,
+so must lie by till all&rsquo;s cleared, which
+won&rsquo;t be for five hours at least.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;How is it that the line&rsquo;s blocked up
+now?&rdquo; asked Archy. &ldquo;There has been
+no more snow all day.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Ay, that&rsquo;s true, master,&rdquo; said the engine-driver.
+&ldquo;But d&rsquo;ye see, a mile from
+the Junction there&rsquo;s a bit of heavy cutting,
+with a steep sloping bank on either
+side. Now, this afternoon there was a
+slip; most all the snow drifted there, and
+part of the bank itself fell in, and so there
+is a block-up. As I said afore, the mineral
+train, she comes up first, and she
+sticks fast, and then we has to follow, as
+a matter in course. But had my old Bison
+been afront, he&rsquo;d have done differently,
+I make no doubt.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Is your engine a much stronger one?&rdquo;
+said Archy, greatly amused to hear how
+funny it was to call a train she, while he
+called the engine he, and by an animal&rsquo;s
+name, too.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;It&rsquo;s not that he&rsquo;s stronger, sir, but
+he&rsquo;s got more go in him, has the Bison.
+He&rsquo;s an extraordinary plucky engine.
+I&rsquo;ve seen him do wonderful things when
+Mat Whitelaw was driver, and me stoker
+to &rsquo;em. I&rsquo;ll just tell you one on &rsquo;em, and
+then ye can judge what sort o&rsquo; stuff the
+Bison&rsquo;s made o&rsquo;. It was one day in summer,
+some two years ago; we had just
+taken in water at the junction, and were
+about to run back to couple on the
+coaches, when an engine passed us tearing
+along at a tremendous speed on the
+other line o&rsquo; rail, but, mark me, without
+a driver or stoker, or aught else on it.
+I thought my mate was mad, when he
+got up steam, and off in the same direction;
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_140" id="Page_140">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>140]</a></span>
+but in a moment I saw what he was
+up to. The Bison was going in the chase.
+&lsquo;See to the brake, John,&rsquo; was all Mat
+said, when off we were after the runaway
+at full speed. It seemed to me nought
+but a wild-goose chase; for, d&rsquo;ye see,
+master, we were on another line o&rsquo; rails
+altogether. But Mat knew what he was
+about, and it was my place to do his bidding.
+I was always proud o&rsquo; the old
+Bison before that morning, but I never
+knew till then what a good engine was,
+and what was depending on it.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;You would have thought he fairly
+snorted to his work, going at the rate o&rsquo;
+forty miles an hour we were, and at last
+we got abreast o&rsquo; the runaway engine,
+and could have passed him, but that
+would have been useless. There wasn&rsquo;t
+another driver on the whole line would
+have thought of the thing so quickly as
+Mat did, nor could have regulated the
+speed so nicely to a moment. The two
+different engines were running just opposite
+each other on the two different lines,
+the runaway being a good deal worn out
+now, and going much slower than at
+first, when Mat he says to me, hoarsely,
+&lsquo;Jump across. It&rsquo;ll be safer if I stick
+here to hold the regulator; but I&rsquo;ll go, if
+you&rsquo;d rather stay.&rsquo; I had such confidence
+in Mat Whitelaw, that I could trust my
+life with him before any mortal man; and
+the instant he gave the word, I jumped,
+and did it safe. We each put on our
+brakes, and took breath, and desperately
+hot we both were, I can assure you.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Were you not terribly afraid?&rdquo; said
+Archy, who had been almost breathless
+during the recital.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I can&rsquo;t say that we were,&rdquo; said John,
+coolly; &ldquo;but I&rsquo;ll tell you I was frightened
+enough the next moment, when Mat
+looked at his watch, and sees that the
+down express was due in a few minutes
+on his line. I believe that Mat thought
+more o&rsquo; the passengers that might be
+smashed, and the risk for the Bison, than
+o&rsquo; his own safety. He said it would never
+do to reverse the engines now; but if we
+kept on, he thought there might yet be
+time to run into the siding at the nearest
+station. So on we went once more at
+increased speed, straight on ahead, though
+it was like running into the very face of
+the danger. The telegraph had been
+hard at work, and the station people
+had been laying their heads together, and
+they were at the points. So, when they
+heard the whistle, and saw Mat putting
+on the brake, they at once opened the
+points,&mdash;not a moment too soon, I can
+tell you,&mdash;and in he ran into the siding.
+Now, what Mat did, sir, was what I call
+about equal to most generals in war, and
+as great a benefit to society.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;He must be a brave fellow,&rdquo; said
+Archy; &ldquo;and I hope you were both rewarded
+for it.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;The company behaved very handsome,&rdquo;
+was the answer. &ldquo;Mat got on to
+the Great Western line at once; but the
+worst of it is, he and I are parted, and
+the old Bison; he felt his loss as much,
+if not more than me.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Falkoner, who had come in during
+the latter part of the story, now said,&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;But tell the young gentleman what
+you did your own self, and what the company
+thought of your conduct.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Tuts, Mary,&rdquo; he answered; &ldquo;I did
+nought extraordinary; there ain&rsquo;t a man
+in the service but could have done the
+same, had they known old Bison as well
+as I did.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I should like to hear it, John,&rdquo; said
+Archy, who was standing ready to leave
+the brother and sister alone.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Well, &rsquo;cept it be to tell you how I got
+to be driver of the Bison myself, it&rsquo;s not
+worth the listening to. When Mat left,
+Bill Jones got to be my mate&mdash;the worst
+driver on the line; at least he couldn&rsquo;t
+manage the Bison. He did not understand
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_141" id="Page_141">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>141]</a></span>
+that engine one bit, and was constantly
+getting into trouble, till I was
+driven almost wild. Bill would say,
+&lsquo;Bison, indeed! he ought to be called
+Donkey; it would suit his kicking ways
+better.&rsquo; It was quite true he kicked, but
+he never did it with Mat on him, and
+went along the rails as smooth as oil.
+Well, at one part o&rsquo; the line, there is a
+gradual long incline, and one day we were
+just putting on more steam to run up,
+when we sees at the top two or three
+coaches coming tearing down straight
+upon us. We knew there was a heavy
+excursion train on ahead, and we had
+been going rather slow on that account,
+and this was some of the coaches that
+had got uncoupled from the rest. Well,
+Bill, my mate, no sooner saw it coming,
+than says he, &lsquo;Jump for your life!&rsquo; and
+out he went. But I knew what a quick
+engine the Bison was, and, moreover, I
+saw our guard had noticed the danger,
+too, and would work with me; so I
+reversed the engine, and ran back, until the
+coaches came up to us, but did no further
+damage save giving us a bit of a shake as
+they struck on the old Bison; and so we
+drove them afore us right up to the station.
+Bill was killed, as might have been
+expected, for he had no faith in the Bison
+whatever; and so the company, they came
+to see I understood that engine, and they
+made me driver o&rsquo; him from that time.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Archy now bade the worthy engine-driver
+good night, saying that he should
+always take a greater interest in engines
+than ever before, and that he should have
+liked very much to have seen such a famous
+one as the Bison.</p>
+
+<p>John Stocks evidently took this speech
+as a personal compliment, and, in consequence,
+bade Archy a friendly good by,
+saying, as he did so, &ldquo;that people nowadays
+talked of nothing but ships and extraordinary
+guns, and what not, but to
+his mind a good engine was before them
+all.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p class="sig smcap">Mrs. George Cupples.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+
+<h2><a name="Page_141lower" id="Page_141lower"></a>THE CHILDREN&rsquo;S SONG.</h2>
+
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p class="cap">MERRILY sang the children, as their mother softly played;<br />
+<span class="i4">With eager, outstretched faces a pretty group they made;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Their clear and bird-like voices ran loudly through the air,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Till &ldquo;Baby&rdquo; heard the music, and crept from stair to stair,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">That she might join the singers, and in their gladness share.<br /></span></p>
+</div>
+
+<div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Dear, merry little warblers! I love to hear you, too;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Your fresh, unworldly feelings, your hearts so fond and true,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Give to your songs a sweetness that no other strains possess;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">They soothe the harassed spirit when troubles thickly press,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And evoke the warm petition, &ldquo;<span class="smcap">O God, our children bless!</span>&rdquo;<br /></span>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_142" id="Page_142">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>142]</a></span></p>
+
+<div class="figcenter ipadtop" style="width: 409px;">
+<img src="images/hd059.jpg" width="409" height="600"
+alt="Kate, Constance and Willy with their repaired treasures" />
+</div>
+
+<p class="caption">PREPARING FOR CHRISTMAS.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_143" id="Page_143">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>143]</a></span></p>
+
+<h2>PREPARING FOR CHRISTMAS.</h2>
+
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p class="cap">HOW earnest Kate and Constance and Brother Willy look,<br />
+<span class="i3">Counting up varied treasures, ship, bat and doll and book!<br /></span></p>
+</div>
+
+<div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">The three are very busy, and very happy too,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Trying to mend up old things to look almost like new.<br /></span>
+</div>
+
+<div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">The book was rather shabby, but Kate with paste and thread<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Has made it firm and tidy, and rubbed it clean with bread.<br /></span>
+</div>
+
+<div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">And now, ere she resigns it, she lingers, glancing o&rsquo;er<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The pretty picture pages and well-known lines once more.<br /></span>
+</div>
+
+<div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Constance has dressed the dolly&mdash;you see how nice it looks&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And all its things are fastened with little strings or hooks.<br /></span>
+</div>
+
+<div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">The ship with clean new rigging&mdash;Will&rsquo;s work&mdash;they eye with pride,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And they have quite a drawerful of other things beside&mdash;<br /></span>
+</div>
+
+<div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Boxes of beads and sweeties, and many a top and ball,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Saved for the coming Christmas; and who&rsquo;s to have them all?<br /></span>
+</div>
+
+<div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Not their own merry playmates, bright girl and happy lad,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Who&rsquo;ll meet for winter pastime like them well fed and clad.<br /></span>
+</div>
+
+<div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">No; children in close alleys, or the large workhouse near,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Our little friends&mdash;obeying Christ&rsquo;s words&mdash;will please and cheer.<br /></span>
+</div>
+
+<div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">And their own Christmas pleasures will seem more glad and sweet<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">For knowing such poor neighbors enjoy for once a treat.<br /></span>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_144" id="Page_144">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>144]</a></span></p>
+
+<div class="figcenter ipadboth" style="width: 570px;">
+<img src="images/hd060.jpg" width="570" height="400"
+alt="A man stands over Que, who is asleep on his mailbag" />
+</div>
+
+<h2>QUE.</h2>
+
+
+<p><span class="dropcap">H</span>E was a wee bit of a boy to carry the
+United States mail on his back,
+seven miles, every day. He was only
+eleven years old, and as long, to an inch,
+as the mail bag, which was just three feet
+and eleven inches long. When he went
+along the road, you would sometimes see
+him, and sometimes the bag; that was
+as you happened to be on this or the other
+side of him. Many persons&rsquo; hard hearts
+have been made to open a crevice, at sight
+of the little fellow, to let a little jet of pity
+spirt out for him. But &ldquo;The Point&rdquo; ran
+out three miles and a half to the south of
+the county road and the stage coach, and
+the nearest coach post-office; and because
+it was only a small point, and sparsely
+settled, it couldn&rsquo;t afford a horse for the
+short distance; and because it was a
+short distance, no man, or boy, who was
+able to do a full day&rsquo;s work, would break
+into it to walk the seven miles; and
+because it was seven miles, no one who
+was not well could walk so far every day,
+and the year round. So it happened that
+the job was up for bids one spring, and
+the person who would carry the mail from
+Gingoo to the Point for the smallest
+amount of money, was to have it for a
+year.</p>
+
+<p>One woman offered to carry it for
+eighty dollars; another for seventy; one
+big boy offered for sixty-five; he&rsquo;d make
+the girls at home do the work, he said,&mdash;they
+hadn&rsquo;t anything else to do,&mdash;and he
+would give them each a new ribbon to
+pay for it: and between you and me, I
+am very glad that that boy didn&rsquo;t get the
+job.</p>
+
+<p>Without saying a word to his family
+about it, Que made up his mind that he
+would carry the mail himself. When the
+others sent in their bids he sent in his,
+for fifty dollars. <em>So</em> it happened that Que
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_145" id="Page_145">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>145]</a></span>
+was mail-carrier. He was so little and
+bow-legged, that there were not many
+things that he could do; for instance, he
+couldn&rsquo;t run. His head and feet were
+very large, and his arms and intermediate
+body very small; therefore he could
+dream and wonder what he should do
+when he grew up, and walk (with care) as
+much as he pleased, but was not a favorite
+among the boys in playing games.</p>
+
+<p>Of course he was not baptized into the
+name Que, but was called, by his parents
+and the christening minister, John Quincy
+Adams Pond, Jr.; named for his father,
+you see. They began to call him Que
+before he was out of his babyhood; for
+they had one boy named John Lee, but as
+they always called him Lee, they entirely
+forgot that fact till after the ceremony
+of Que&rsquo;s christening. And they really
+weren&rsquo;t much to blame, for they had nine
+other boys, and poor memories; and
+though both are misfortunes, they can&rsquo;t
+be helped. To avoid mixing their two
+Johns, they called one Lee and the other
+Que.</p>
+
+<p>Que looked upon seven miles a day as
+no walk at all, and upon fifty dollars a
+year as a fortune, and upon &ldquo;United
+States mail-carrier&rdquo; as a title little below
+&ldquo;Hon.&rdquo; or &ldquo;Esq.&rdquo; He had hoped, all
+his life, that he should, some fine day,
+have a right to one or the other of these
+titles. Probably the fact that his name
+already ended with a &ldquo;Jr.&rdquo; excited his
+ambition in that particular direction.
+Money and dignity seemed to Que the
+two things most to be desired in life,
+unless I might add a small family.</p>
+
+<p>Now, we will leave Que&rsquo;s antecedents
+behind, and go on to his life while he
+carried the mail; and a very queer little
+life it was, as you will say when you get
+to the end of it, though I don&rsquo;t know
+when that will be, for Que isn&rsquo;t there
+himself yet. The mail contract was from
+July 1, 1860, to July 1, 1861, and if your
+mathematics are in good running order,
+you will see that that was just a year.</p>
+
+<p>July 1, 1860, was as fine a day in Gingoo
+as any day in the year; and Que was in
+as high spirits as on any day in the course
+of his life. Unfortunately the mail coach
+reached Gingoo exactly at forty minutes
+past eleven, unless the driver got drunk
+or fell asleep, which happened about two
+hundred and forty days in the year. But
+whether sober, drunk, or asleep, the four
+coach horses always stood before Gingoo
+office door by twelve o&rsquo;clock at latest.</p>
+
+<p>It makes no difference to you or to me
+when the coach stood there; but it made
+a great deal of difference to Que, for
+twelve o&rsquo;clock on the finest day in the
+year, and that day the first of July, is apt
+to be rather warm; and in the year 1860
+it was <em>very</em> warm. Nevertheless, at quarter
+past twelve, Que started with the bag.
+I, happening to be at the right side of him,
+saw only the bag start with Que.</p>
+
+<p>Perhaps you don&rsquo;t see why Que should
+have started right in the heat of the day;
+but if you had been Que, and could have
+heard all the Pointers clamoring for their
+mail, you would have started just when
+Que did. The mail-bag was made of
+very dark leather, and drew the sun tremendously.
+Now, as Que had on a pair
+of light linen pants and a little gray lined
+coat, of course he ought to have walked
+between the bag and the sun; but not
+being a scientific boy, he didn&rsquo;t think of
+that, and slung the bag over his sunny
+shoulder, and from that height it trailed
+to the ground.</p>
+
+<p>Que walked on as fast as he could, trying
+not to think too much of the heat and
+the weight; but the peculiar odor that the
+sun brought from the leather bag was
+blown up his nose, and down his throat,
+and into his ears, by a strong south wind
+that blew, and before Que had time to
+think whether he had better or better not,
+he was lying fast asleep by the side of the
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_146" id="Page_146">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>146]</a></span>
+road, on the grass; rather he was lying
+on the mail-bag, and that was lying on
+the grass. Why didn&rsquo;t he fall on the
+other side? For two reasons; first, he
+was attracted mail-bag way by the sleepy
+odor before spoken of; and secondly, the
+weight was all that way, and as he began
+to sleep before he began to drop, of
+course the bag was his natural bed when
+he did drop.</p>
+
+<p>The Point road was lonesome, and it
+must have been quite an hour before any
+one came that way. Then a man and
+two horses, and a cart loaded high with
+laths, were seen coming over the hill;
+that is, they would have been seen, if
+Que hadn&rsquo;t been asleep just then.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Hollo! what&rsquo;s all this?&rdquo; said the
+driver when he got opposite the bag and
+Que.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;All this&rdquo; neither stirred nor spoke.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Whoa! whoa, there!&rdquo; called the driver
+to his horses.</p>
+
+<p>Now, if Que had been taking only a
+light, after-dinner nap, he would have
+been wide awake as soon as the cart
+stopped; for the hill was a long one, and
+the rumbling had been as long, and merely
+from lack of that lullaby, a well-conditioned
+boy should have wakened at once.
+But Que didn&rsquo;t.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I declare,&rdquo; said the driver, &ldquo;if it ain&rsquo;t
+that bran new mail-boy!&rdquo; Thereupon
+he went up and looked at him; but not
+being of a magnetic temperament, he
+didn&rsquo;t wake Que that way.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Bless the chick, if he isn&rsquo;t dead asleep,&rdquo;
+continued the driver, talking to himself.
+This driver had a habit of talking to himself,
+for he said, &ldquo;then he was always sure
+of having somebody worth talking to.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Now, won&rsquo;t those Pointers growl for
+their mail, when it is a couple of hours
+late? The first day, too! Que&rsquo;ll catch it.&rdquo;
+Then he gave Que a little roll, so that he
+rolled from the bag over into the grass.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Well, I always <em>was</em> a good-natured
+fellow. Guess I&rsquo;ll take his bag along for
+him, and save him the scolding.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>So the driver threw the bag on top of
+the load of laths, and left the bag-boy to
+sleep it out.</p>
+
+<p>When Que had slept half an hour
+longer, he started up, staring wide awake.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I&rsquo;ve been asleep,&rdquo; said Que; and so
+he had.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;My bag&rsquo;s been and gone,&rdquo; continued
+Que; and so it had.</p>
+
+<p>But he was a bright boy, and all the
+brighter, perhaps, for having just been
+asleep; so he looked round, which is a
+very good thing to do when you get into
+trouble, and the very thing that half the
+people in the world never think to do.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;There are tracks in the grass; and
+there is a cart-track in the dust, and it
+had two horses, and these foot-tracks
+went back to it. Why, the lath man must
+have taken it;&rdquo; and so he had.</p>
+
+<p>Que started towards the Point as fast
+as he could go, and consequently, when
+he got there, which was just fifty minutes
+after the bag got there, he had no breath
+left to ask any questions about it. Still
+he panted on to the post-office.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Who are you?&rdquo; asked the postmaster.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I&rsquo;m&mdash;a&mdash;bag,&rdquo; gasped Que.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Bag of wind!&rdquo; said the postmaster,
+emphatically.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;A&mdash;mail&mdash;bag!&rdquo; said Que.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Humph! So you&rsquo;re the new mail
+boy&mdash;are you? Send your bag down by
+express, and came yourself by accommodation&mdash;didn&rsquo;t
+you?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;The lath man&rsquo;s got it; where is he?&rdquo;
+Que had recovered his breath a little by
+this time.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I don&rsquo;t know anything about the lath
+man,&rdquo; growled the postmaster.</p>
+
+<p>But when Que began to cry, which he
+did at once, the postmaster couldn&rsquo;t stand
+that, for he had no children of his own,
+and his feelings, consequently, weren&rsquo;t
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_147" id="Page_147">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>147]</a></span>
+hardened; so he dragged the bag from a
+corner, and threw it on Que&rsquo;s back.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;There, take your bag, and go home,
+and don&rsquo;t be two hours late the first day,
+next time.&rdquo; He didn&rsquo;t stop to think that
+there cannot be two first days to the same
+thing. Que didn&rsquo;t stop to think of it,
+either, but started homewards as fast as
+his bow-legs would let him. I think he
+approximated more nearly to running,
+that day, than he ever had done in his
+life before.</p>
+
+<p>Que&rsquo;s nine brothers treated him with
+great respect, when he got home. The
+family had been to tea, but each one had
+saved some part of his supper for Que;
+so, though he had an indigestible mixture,
+there was plenty of it,&mdash;while it
+lasted.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Did you have a good time, Que?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Was it fun?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Did you get anything for it?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Did you get tired?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Going to keep it up?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Can&rsquo;t I go next time?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Do you like it?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Did you see any boys?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Anybody give you a lift?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>How all together the questions did
+come! But the confusion of them saved
+Que from the trouble of answering the
+nine boys, and as soon as there was a lull,
+his father said,&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;You were gone some time, sir; I hope
+you didn&rsquo;t stop to play on the road?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;O, no, sir,&rdquo; said Que. &ldquo;I haven&rsquo;t
+played at all;&rdquo; which was very true, you
+know.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Did there seem to be many letters?&rdquo;
+asked his mother; and be it understood,
+that she asked quite as much because
+Que looked as if the bag had been heavy,
+as from feminine curiosity.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Didn&rsquo;t notice, ma&rsquo;am; the bag wasn&rsquo;t
+very heavy;&rdquo; and it wasn&rsquo;t, except on
+his conscience, and he knew his mother
+didn&rsquo;t mean that, at all.</p>
+
+<p>For several weeks after that everything
+went on smoothly enough. Que had a
+pretty good time, and found it some fun,
+and felt that he was getting something
+for it, and didn&rsquo;t get very tired, and kept
+it up, and never took any of his brothers
+with him, and liked the business, and saw
+a good many boys, and got a large number
+of &ldquo;lifts&rdquo; from hay-carts and wagons,
+and particularly from the lath man. So,
+in course of time, all the brothers&rsquo; questions
+were satisfactorily answered.</p>
+
+<p>It is a way that the world has, to let
+you trip once, and then run on smooth
+ground some time, before it puts another
+snag in your way; and it made no exception
+in Que&rsquo;s favor. His drab clothes
+kept clean a long time, in spite of the
+leather bag, and washed well when they
+were not clean. The Gingoo postmaster
+took a fancy to him, and the Point post
+master refrained from tormenting him.
+The mails were not unbearably heavy
+nor the month of July remarkably hot
+after the first. Que had a good appetite
+for his supper, and plenty of supper to
+show it on, and slept long and heavily
+every night and a part of every morning,
+and thought that the world was a pretty
+good kind of place, after all. But that
+was only because he hadn&rsquo;t come to the
+second snag yet.</p>
+
+<p>One day, in the first end of August, a
+wind sprang up. It wasn&rsquo;t a very uncommonly
+high wind, only no one was
+expecting it, because the days had been
+muggy, and that made every one say,
+&ldquo;Why, what a high wind there is to-day!&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>You and I can&rsquo;t tell why the wind
+should have gone on rising through the
+forenoon; but we can guess, which will
+answer our purpose just as well; for you
+know it is but little more than that that
+your father and his friends, and father&rsquo;s
+father and his friends, do, when they meet
+together and &ldquo;express opinions.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_148" id="Page_148">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>148]</a></span>
+<em>I</em> guess that the wind rose higher
+through the forenoon because, as soon
+as it began to play about in the morning,
+it caught the whisper of people&rsquo;s surprise,
+and thought it would take the hint,
+and blow them up a little.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;What a dickens of a wind!&rdquo; said
+Que, when he stood, or tried to stand, on
+top of the hill with his bag.</p>
+
+<p>Que had learned all the easy ways of
+carrying that bag long ago; of strapping
+it in a little roll over his shoulders when
+it wasn&rsquo;t very full; of carrying it on his
+head when it had enough inside to balance
+just right, and of strapping it round
+his body when it had nothing in it. But,
+as the days had been all stormless alike,
+he had been obliged to adapt himself
+only to the conditions of the bag, and
+not at all to the state of the weather.</p>
+
+<p>As the masculine mind is capable of
+taking in only one idea at a time, as soon
+as Que put his mind to the state of the
+weather, it drew itself away from the
+manner of carrying the bag.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Wish I had something between me
+and the wind,&rdquo; sighed he.</p>
+
+<p>Just then the wind blew off his hat,
+to teach him the polite order of mentioning
+two persons, of whom himself
+was one.</p>
+
+<p>Que followed after it as fast as he
+could, and let the bag drop beside him,
+and by chance it hung from his neck to
+the windward side.</p>
+
+<p>The wind blew very strong.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I do declare,&rdquo; said he, &ldquo;I shouldn&rsquo;t
+wonder a bit if the wind blew me away.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Que was a truthful boy; but he did
+wonder very much when he found, two
+seconds afterwards, that the wind <em>was</em>
+blowing him away. But he didn&rsquo;t wonder
+at all, when he lay, a minute later,
+against a huge apple tree; partly because
+people generally get through wondering
+when they are at the end of anything,
+but mostly because the blow stunned
+Que, so that he didn&rsquo;t know anything for
+an hour.</p>
+
+<p>When he gradually came to himself,
+he didn&rsquo;t know where he was. Then a
+little wind shook a green apple down on
+his nose, and he concluded that he was
+under an apple tree; which was quite
+correct.</p>
+
+<p>Then he looked about to see whether
+he was in the United States or not; he
+saw the five juniper trees that had been
+standing in a row, half a mile from his
+father&rsquo;s house, ever since he could remember,
+and concluded that he must
+be; wherein he was again quite correct.</p>
+
+<p>Then he wondered if any one would
+come for him, for he felt so stiff and
+sore that he thought he never could go
+home alone.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;They&rsquo;ll come for me, <em>I</em> know; for if
+I&rsquo;ve had a gale they must have had one;
+and if they have had one they&rsquo;ll know
+that I&rsquo;ve had one. Of course they&rsquo;ll
+come.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Que felt round for his mail-bag, and
+got his head on it, and waited. While
+he was lying there it occurred to him that
+the people down in the village wouldn&rsquo;t
+have been walking about with bags broader
+than themselves to windward of them,
+and mightn&rsquo;t have felt the breeze as he
+did; so his last reasoning wasn&rsquo;t correct
+at all.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I&rsquo;ll bet they didn&rsquo;t feel it a bit!&rdquo;
+thought Que; and by this time he was
+so fully in possession of his original faculties,
+that his reasoning was quite correct
+again. No one else had felt the
+gale.</p>
+
+<p>Que put his head on the bag and thought
+that his end had come, and so cried himself
+to sleep.</p>
+
+<p>His family had not felt the gale very
+heavily; but when tea-time came, and
+Que didn&rsquo;t, they felt that; and when
+darkness came, and Que didn&rsquo;t, they felt
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_149" id="Page_149">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>149]</a></span>
+that; and when a report came, with a
+growl, from the Point that they wanted
+their mail, Que&rsquo;s father started out with
+a lantern to find it.</p>
+
+<p>Que, having finished his nap, felt better,
+and tried to get up; but his ankle
+didn&rsquo;t want to move; and when he tried
+again it actually wouldn&rsquo;t move; so he lay
+down again to wait and watch. When he
+saw the lantern go by, he called, and his
+father came.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;What are you doing here, sir?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Nothing,&rdquo; said Que.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Get up, then.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I can&rsquo;t,&rdquo; said Que.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;You&rsquo;ve been asleep, sir.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Yes, sir,&rdquo; said Que.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;What have you done with the mail-bag?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;It is the mail-bag that&rsquo;s done with
+me,&rdquo; said Que.</p>
+
+<p>Then his father took him by the collar,
+and stood him up, and saw at once what
+was the matter. Que had sprained his
+ankle.</p>
+
+<p>It seemed to Que, during the next four
+weeks, as if that ankle never would heal;
+but it did at last, and John Lee, who had
+carried the mail in the mean time, was
+loath to give the job to Que again. He
+felt for Que through his pain, but charged
+him one twelfth of fifty dollars for doing
+his work a month, and would like to do it
+a while longer.</p>
+
+<p>There isn&rsquo;t much more to tell of Que
+as a mail-boy. The end of the year
+found him the possessor of forty-five dollars
+and five shillings.</p>
+
+<p>The next year the Point afforded a
+horse, and Que took the mail on the
+horse&rsquo;s back; the year following they
+had a horse and wagon, and Que drove
+that; when they have a railway I have
+no doubt Que will be a conductor; and
+when the mail is blown through a tunnel,
+Que, of course, will blow it.</p>
+
+<p>Even the second snag, you see, needn&rsquo;t
+lay you a dead weight on the earth.</p>
+
+<p class="sig smcap">Mary B. Harris.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+
+<h2><a name="Page_149lower" id="Page_149lower"></a>WHAT THE CLOCK SAYS.</h2>
+
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p class="cap">THE clock&rsquo;s loud tick<br />
+<span class="i3">Says, &ldquo;Time flies quick.&rdquo;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">&ldquo;Listen,&rdquo; says the chime;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">&ldquo;Make the most of time,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">For remember, young and old,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Minutes are like grains of gold;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Spend them wisely, spend them well,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">For their worth can no man tell.&rdquo;<br /></span></p>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_150" id="Page_150">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>150]</a></span></p>
+
+<div class="figcenter ipadtop" style="width: 434px;">
+<img src="images/hd061.jpg" width="434" height="600"
+alt="A little girl, held by a woman, reaches a finger towards falling snowflakes" />
+</div>
+
+<p class="caption">THE SNOW-FALL.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_151" id="Page_151">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>151]</a></span></p>
+
+<h2>THE SNOW-FALL.</h2>
+
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p class="cap">OLD Winter comes forth in his robe of white,<br />
+<span class="i3">He sends the sweet flowers far out of sight,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">He robs the trees of their green leaves quite,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">And freezes the pond and the river;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">He has spoiled the butterfly&rsquo;s pretty nest,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And ordered the birds not to build their nest,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And banished the frog to a four months&rsquo; rest,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">And makes all the children shiver.<br /></span></p>
+</div>
+
+<div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Yet he does some good with his icy tread,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">For he keeps the corn-seeds warm in their bed,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">He dries up the damp which the rain had spread,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">And renders the air more healthy;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">He taught the boys to slide, and he flung<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Rich Christmas gifts o&rsquo;er the old and young,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And when cries for food from the poor were wrung,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">He opened the purse of the wealthy.<br /></span>
+</div>
+
+<div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">We like the Spring with its fine fresh air;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">We like the Summer with flowers so fair;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">We like the fruits we in Autumn share,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">And we like, too, old Winter&rsquo;s greeting:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">His touch is cold, but his heart is warm;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">So, though he brings to us snow and storm,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">We look with a smile on his well-known form,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">And ours is a gladsome meeting.<br /></span>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<div class="figcenter ipadboth" style="width: 150px;">
+<img src="images/hd062.png" width="150" height="46"
+alt="Floral decoration" />
+</div>
+
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_152" id="Page_152">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>152]</a></span></p>
+
+<h2>STITCHING AND TEACHING.</h2>
+
+
+<p><span class="dropcap">W</span>ILL had had the croup. Then
+the measles took possession of
+him, and lastly, the whooping-cough, finding
+him well swept and garnished, entered
+in, and shook and throttled him in a manner
+quite deplorable.</p>
+
+<p>His convalescence, however, was relieved
+of its monotony by a headlong fall
+from a step ladder in the library, whereby
+he sprained his wrist, to say nothing
+of the mischief that he made, in his descent,
+amid the ink, books, and papers.</p>
+
+<p>Treading on a pin in the sewing-room
+was another diversion in his favor, giving
+him, for a while, a daily looking forward
+to bandages and poultices, and an opportunity
+to weigh the advantages of obedience
+in case he should ever again wish,
+and be forbidden, to jump out of bed and
+run barefoot amid the dressmaker&rsquo;s shreds
+in search of his top.</p>
+
+<p>Now, all this is no uncommon experience
+for a small boy. I simply mention
+it by way of apology for introducing Will
+in an unamiable mood. One regrets to
+have one&rsquo;s friends make an unfavorable
+first impression.</p>
+
+<p>This was Will&rsquo;s first morning at school
+since his recovery. He found that the
+boys had gone on in their Latin, had
+gone on in their French, leaving him far
+behind; they had got into decimals, and
+he way back pages; they had a new writing-master,
+and wrote with their faces
+turned a new way, to the great disgust
+of Will. They had had a botany excursion
+to Blue Hills, which he had lost.
+He was down at the foot of the class, and
+at the end of the morning he had made
+up his desperate mind to remain there
+forever. It was no use for a fellow to try
+to put through such a pile of back lessons.</p>
+
+<p>He came stamping up stairs, kicked at
+the nursery door, slung in his bag of
+books, and stood on the threshold, pouting
+and glaring angrily at his sister Emily.</p>
+
+<p>Emily sat in the window opposite, the
+sunlight sifting through the flickering ivy
+leaves on to her golden hair and fair sweet
+face. She was singing over her sewing
+as Will made his noisy entrance. She
+looked up at the scowling boy in the doorway,
+her pale cheeks flushing with surprise
+and then with pity.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;What&rsquo;s the matter?&rdquo; she asked, gently.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Matter?&rdquo; roared Will; &ldquo;I guess you&rsquo;d
+ask, if you knew how old &lsquo;Crit&rsquo; had been
+cramming the fellows, and me nowhere.
+I&rsquo;ll&mdash;run away to sea, or somewheres.
+I&rsquo;m not going to <em>stand</em> it.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Will bounced his hand down so hard
+on a tea-poy, two little terra cotta shepherdesses
+bounded up from it, knocked
+their heads together, and fell clattering
+to the floor.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;O, Will,&rdquo; cried Emily, rising up with
+a scared face, and dropping her pretty
+work-basket, &ldquo;don&rsquo;t talk so. You are
+tired now, and everything troubles you,
+because you have been sick so long. By
+and by, when you are a little stronger,
+you will feel differently. Don&rsquo;t think
+about the back lessons. Just try to be
+glad you are well enough to go to school
+again, and be with the boys.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;O, don&rsquo;t preach!&rdquo; persisted Will,
+gruffly.</p>
+
+<p>With the cloud still hanging over his
+handsome face, he shook himself away
+from the caressing hand which was laid
+upon his shoulder, as if to hold him back
+from running away to the great, pitiless sea.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Asy! asy, now!&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>This was Kathleen, the nurse, calling
+out in cautioning tones to Will, who had
+jerked against the tray she was carrying
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_153" id="Page_153">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>153]</a></span>
+causing the two saucers of strawberries
+to click together sharply, and the buttered
+rolls to slip over the edge of the plate.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;You&rsquo;re tired with the school, poor craythur,
+an&rsquo; no wonder at that same. Larnin&rsquo;s
+murtherin&rsquo;, bad luck to it! I tried it
+mysel oncet, a moonth or so, avenin&rsquo;s.
+It&rsquo;s myself was watchin&rsquo; for ye, Master
+Will, and when ye came round the corner
+I had this bit sup arl ready for ye. &lsquo;The
+crame&mdash;quick&mdash;Bridget!&rsquo; says I, and
+then I ran away up the two flights with
+it; and barrin&rsquo; the joggle you give it, it&rsquo;s
+in foine, tip-top orther an&rsquo; priservation
+arl tegither, bless your little sowl!&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Kathleen set out the crisp little rolls
+and the great crimson berries in the most
+tempting way she could devise, and went
+off, bobbing her head with satisfaction to
+see the children place themselves at table,
+and partake of her well-timed lunch.</p>
+
+<p>Will, as an atonement for the ungentle
+way in which he had come in upon his
+sister after school, offered her the nicest
+plate of berries, and insisted that she
+should take the crispiest roll. He suddenly
+remembered that Emily, too, had
+had whooping-cough and measles at the
+same time, and quite as badly as himself.
+But, then, she had not sprained her wrist
+or lamed her foot; so it was no wonder
+her temper had not suffered. Besides, it
+was expected of girls not to make a fuss.</p>
+
+<p>In view of these last circumstances, he
+suppressed the apology he was about to
+make for his late unpleasant remarks.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;It never will do to give up too much
+to girls,&rdquo; he reasoned, draining the last
+drop of cream from the pitcher.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Your grandmamma is coming over
+from Brookline this afternoon in the carriage,
+to take the two of you home with
+her to spind the night.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>This was Kathleen back again at the
+nursery door, and wiping her face with her
+apron as she unburdened herself of this
+forgotten bit of news.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;You won&rsquo;t run away to sea now,&rdquo; besought
+Emily, with imploring eyes.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Maybe I mightn&rsquo;t,&rdquo; shouted Will,
+tossing up his cap in glee at this unexpected
+prospect of fun.</p>
+
+<p>It was now only the middle of the long
+summer day. Such a tiresome journey as
+the sun had to go before it rolled quite
+away in the west! Will longed to give
+it a push, and to hurry up the clock to
+strike five, the hour when they should be
+on their way to beautiful Brookline.</p>
+
+<p>Impatient little Will! Emily kindly
+helped him to get through with the lagging
+time. At her suggestion, he played
+ball a while on the lawn, while from time
+to time she nodded encouragingly to him
+through the open window. By and by
+the ball bounded up into a spout, cuddling
+down among some soft old maple leaves,
+where Will could not see it. Thereupon
+Will came into the house in a great pet,
+storming about till he was persuaded to
+sit on the floor and paste pictures in his
+scrap-book.</p>
+
+<p>This quiet occupation did not amuse
+him long. His fingers, his chin, his
+cheeks, his curls even soon became stiff
+with mucilage. Mucilage on his trouser
+knees, mucilage on his jacket elbows&mdash;in
+fact, mucilage everywhere on and
+around him.</p>
+
+<p>Emily, after having, with great painstaking,
+washed her brother and all the
+surrounding furniture, proposed that he
+should study a Latin lesson. The book
+soon went down with a bang. &ldquo;Because,&rdquo;
+as Will sulkily explained to his sighing
+sister, &ldquo;it made his head buzz.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Emily gently suggested a French lesson
+as a corrective of this unpleasant
+&ldquo;buzz.&rdquo; The remedy soon proved to be
+a failure. The French book came down
+more noisily than the Latin book.</p>
+
+<p>Emily laid aside her drawing in despair.
+It was such a relief to hear Kathleen&rsquo;s
+heavy step in the entry, and to remember
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_154" id="Page_154">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>154]</a></span>
+it was time now for Will to be dressed
+for dinner!</p>
+
+<p>Poor Kathleen had a thankless task
+before her. Master Will required a great
+deal of preparation. His curls were
+gummed and tangled; his fingers were
+inky, and suspiciously pitchy.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;You&rsquo;ve been climbin&rsquo; unknownst up
+that pine tree again, an&rsquo; you a told not
+to?&rdquo; questioned Kathleen, examining the
+fingers keenly.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Hush up, and go ahead!&rdquo; was Will&rsquo;s
+rude answer.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;How <em>can</em> you speak so?&rdquo; reproved
+Emily, turning round upon Will, while
+she tied back her hair with a band of blue
+ribbon.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Fie, fie, sir!&rdquo; cried displeased Kathleen,
+&ldquo;going ahead&rdquo; with great energy,
+her mouth pursed up in disapproval of
+Master Will&rsquo;s manners, while she washed,
+and combed, and curled, and took off and
+put on his apparel.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Where&rsquo;s your stockings, Master Will,&mdash;the
+blue stripes?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Dunno.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Will sat in a low chair, his stubby bare
+feet stuck out before him, and his two
+hands actively employed as fly-catchers.
+Suddenly he remembered having amused
+himself the day before in oiling his sled
+runners, using the striped stockings for
+wipers; but he did not trouble Kathleen
+just then with the tidings. The blue-striped
+stockings were not found. Then
+came a difficulty with his new boots.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Aow! they pinch!&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Where, sir?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Master Will, not being able to say exactly
+where, was left to get used to the
+new boots as well as he could.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Now see, here&rsquo;s your new suit; an&rsquo;
+be careful with it, mind&mdash;careful as iver
+was. It&rsquo;s me afternoon out; and if ye
+go tearin&rsquo; the cloos on ye, ye&rsquo;ll jist mind
+thim yersel, or else go in tatthers wid yer
+grandmamma.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>This speech had no more wholesome
+effect on Will than to cause him to stick
+out his tongue at Emily, while Kathleen,
+standing behind him, arranged his buttons
+and his drapery generally.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Now, if you could only be as good as
+you&rsquo;re purty,&rdquo; exclaimed Kathleen, wheeling
+Will suddenly round before his tongue
+was quite in place again, &ldquo;you&rsquo;d do well
+enough.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>With a few finishing touches to Emily&rsquo;s
+sash ribbon, Kathleen went off to make
+her own gorgeous toilet for her afternoon
+out.</p>
+
+<p>The dinner was next to be gotten
+through with. But that was not an unpleasant
+hour to Will. After dinner the
+children were permitted by their mother
+to amuse themselves under the shadow
+of the great elm behind the house. She
+knew that with Emily this permission
+simply meant liberty to sit quietly beneath
+the overhanging branches, gazing dreamily
+over the soft summer landscape, or listening
+to the sweet sounds that stirred the
+air around and above her. But with Will
+it might be more broadly interpreted into
+leave for frequent raids over fences and
+through bars for butterflies and beetles,
+or any luckless rover that strayed along.
+So she explained to her son in this
+wise:&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Will, dear, remember that your grandmamma
+is coming for you, and you must
+not soil or tear your clothes by running
+about. Play quietly in the shade. The
+time will not be long now.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Yes, mum.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Such implicit obedience as this &ldquo;Yes,
+mum&rdquo; implied! In fact, there was the
+promise in it of every one of the cardinal
+virtues.</p>
+
+<p>The two children then went away
+through the long hall, whose doors stood
+wide open in the warm summer afternoon,
+and Will, dragging along the slower-footed
+Emily, hurried on to the elm tree.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_155" id="Page_155">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>155]</a></span>
+&ldquo;Don&rsquo;t pull so, Will; I shall drop my
+basket, and my spool and thimble will
+roll away.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;What do you want to bother with
+work for this beautiful afternoon?&rdquo; inquired
+Will, slackening his pace.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I promised mamma I would try and
+finish it this week,&rdquo; said Emily, &ldquo;and I
+like to keep my word.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I thought the machine sewed.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;So it does; but mamma says I must
+learn just the same as if there were no
+machines.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Well, I&rsquo;m glad I&rsquo;m not a girl, to sit
+pricking my fingers, and jabbing needles
+in and out all day.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Patience was not one of Will&rsquo;s virtues.</p>
+
+<p>How lovely it was out under the elm!
+The sweet-scented grass was warm with
+the afternoon sun, and musical with the
+chirp and hum of its insect homes. The
+bees fluttered in and out over mamma&rsquo;s
+rose garden, and all the air was filled with
+the delicate fragrance of the roses.</p>
+
+<p>Emily, seated on the great gnarled elm
+roots, drank in all the sweet scents and
+sounds, her forgotten work-basket lying
+overturned in the grass before her. Will
+spread himself out at full length on the
+ground, and kept his eyes open for chippers
+and spiders, and all the busy little
+things that crept, or leaped, or flitted
+around him. Now and then the afternoon
+hush was broken by the faintly tinkling
+bells of a horse-car turning some distant
+corner, the rumbling of a heavy team going
+over the dusty turnpike, or the voices
+of the belfry clocks calling the hour to
+each other from the steeples of the neighboring
+city.</p>
+
+<p>Master Will, however, soon became
+tired of this quiet. He scrambled up,
+and wandering away into the rose garden,
+lifted caressingly to his cheek the beautiful
+pink blossoms which leaned towards
+him from amid the green leaves. He was
+looking for a choice little bud to fasten in
+Emily&rsquo;s hair; and when he found it, he
+came whistling out into the clear grassy
+spaces again, a little bird in a bough overhead
+tilting, and twittering, and eying him
+askance.</p>
+
+<p>Will rushed up to Emily, and hung the
+bud in her ear; he rearranged it in the
+blue ribbon of her hair, so that it nodded
+sleepily over her nose; he dropped it, as
+if it were a tiny pink egg, in the soft golden
+moss of curls which he upturned on
+his sister&rsquo;s head. Then he threw it away,
+and stamped on it; for Emily had drawn
+a book from her pocket, and deep in some
+fairy under-world story, was unmindful
+of his roses and his pains.</p>
+
+<p>He ran recklessly away into the rose
+garden; he caught a bumblebee; he pursued
+a daddy long-leg with the watering-pot,
+going deeper and deeper all the time
+among the briery branches. The crashing
+of the stems caused Emily to come
+up from fairy-land a moment.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Have a care, Will, dear. The roses
+have thorns. You may tear your nice
+jacket.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Crash, crash! rip, rip! The rose
+trees are dragging at Will with their
+prickly fingers. With great effort he
+burst away from them, and rushed out,
+with no worse mischance than a rent in
+his trousers.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Aw! aw! aw!&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>All the little knolls seemed to take up
+Will&rsquo;s sorrowful cry, and repeat it.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;You must not tear or soil your clothes.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Every cricket in the grass seemed to
+be screaming these words of his mother,
+and here was her luckless son with two
+green spots on his stockings, and a grievous
+rent in his new pantaloons.</p>
+
+<p>It was Kathleen&rsquo;s afternoon out; she
+had warned him, and there was no help
+in that direction. He looked mournfully
+over his shoulder at the damages with a
+vague idea that he had perhaps some undeveloped
+capacity for mending.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_156" id="Page_156">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>156]</a></span></p>
+
+<div class="figcenter ipadtop" style="width: 417px;">
+<img src="images/hd063.jpg" width="417" height="600"
+alt="Emily repairs Will's trousers" />
+</div>
+
+<p class="caption smcap">&ldquo;You&rsquo;ll see how nicely I&rsquo;ll sew it.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_157" id="Page_157">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>157]</a></span>
+&ldquo;Couldn&rsquo;t you pin it up nicely?&rdquo; he
+inquired, in most insinuating tones, of
+Emily, whose eye just then met his.</p>
+
+<p>Emily burst into a merry laugh.</p>
+
+<p>Will was mute with indignation, and
+tingling to his finger&rsquo;s ends, with this untimely
+mirth. His flashing eyes asked if
+this were a time for jesting.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Come here, Willy, boy, and you&rsquo;ll see
+how nicely I&rsquo;ll sew it, not pin it. Never
+fret about it, dear; I will explain to
+mamma that you were really not so much
+in fault. It was only rather a mistake to
+get in so far among the bushes. If you
+had been chasing the cat, or turning somersets,
+she might, perhaps, be vexed; but
+poh! she will excuse this.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Will, unseen by Emily, wiped away with
+his thumb one big tear after another out
+of the corner of his eye.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;She is a good sister, anyhow, and I
+am a mean fellow ever to get mad with
+her, and say rude things to her,&rdquo; he said
+to himself, as Emily darned, and chatted,
+and bade him be of good cheer.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;My stockings, too, sister. There&rsquo;s a
+great green grass stain on both of them,
+and grandmamma expects us to be <em>so</em>
+nice.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Will coughed to choke down a sob.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Perhaps you may have time to change
+them, Will. I will help you. But we
+must get the pantaloons all nicely done
+first.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>So this kind sister stitched, and taught
+unconsciously as she stitched, lessons of
+love and patience, lessons of cheerful helpfulness
+and sweet unselfishness, which
+Will never forgot.</p>
+
+<p>More than once, in after life, when, in
+heedless pursuit of life&rsquo;s roses, he had
+been wounded by its thorns, he remembered
+that sweet face of consolation,
+those dear hands held out to aid him,
+and all the sunshine and the song of
+that sweet summer afternoon, and fresh
+peace and hope came to him with the remembrance.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;It&rsquo;s all finished now, the very last
+stitch; and now for the stockings. Let
+me see the spots.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Will put his two heels firmly together,
+turned out his toes, pulled up his puffy
+pantaloons, and stooped his head and
+strained his eyes to look for them.</p>
+
+<p>They were but little ones, after all, and
+a brisk rubbing with the handkerchief, and
+a judicious pulling down of the trouser
+bindings, almost concealed them. They
+were just in time with their repairs; for
+grandmamma&rsquo;s yellow-wheeled carriage
+was coming up the avenue.</p>
+
+<p class="sig">E. G. C.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+
+<h2><a name="Page_157lower" id="Page_157lower"></a>OUR DAILY BREAD.</h2>
+
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p class="cap">A LITTLE girl knelt down to pray<br />
+<span class="i3">One morn. The mother said,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">&ldquo;My love, why do we ever say,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Give us our daily bread?<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Why not ask for a week or more?&rdquo;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">The baby bent her head<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">In thoughtful mood towards the floor:<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">&ldquo;We want it fresh,&rdquo; she said.<br /></span></p>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_158" id="Page_158">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>158]</a></span></p>
+
+<div class="figcenter ipadtop" style="width: 402px;">
+<img src="images/hd064.jpg" width="402" height="600"
+alt="Willie looks out of the window, leaning on his hands on the ledge" />
+</div>
+
+<p class="caption">LITTLE WILLIE.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_159" id="Page_159">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>159]</a></span></p>
+
+<h2>WILLIE&rsquo;S PRAYER.</h2>
+
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p class="cap">ONE sweet morning little Willie,<br />
+<span class="i3">Springing from his trundle-bed,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Bounded to the vine-wreathed window<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And put out his sunny head.<br /></span></p>
+</div>
+
+<div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">It was in the joyous spring-time,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">When the sky was soft and fair,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And the blue-bird and the robin<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Warbled sweetly everywhere.<br /></span>
+</div>
+
+<div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">In the field the lambs were playing,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Where the babbling brook ran clear;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To and fro, in leafy tree-tops,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Squirrels frisked without a fear.<br /></span>
+</div>
+
+<div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">In his ear his baby-brother<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Baby-wonders tried to speak,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And the kiss of a fond mother<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Rested on his dimpled cheek.<br /></span>
+</div>
+
+<div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Zephyrs from the fragrant lilacs<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Fanned his little rosy face,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And the heart&rsquo;s-ease, gemmed with dewdrops,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Smiled at him with gentle grace.<br /></span>
+</div>
+
+<div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Gliding back with fairy footsteps,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Willie, dropping on his knees,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Softly prayed, &ldquo;Dear God, I love you!<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Make it always happy, please!&rdquo;<br /></span>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_160" id="Page_160">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>160]</a></span></p>
+
+<h2>SQUIRRELS.</h2>
+
+
+<p><span class="dropcap">H</span>OW pretty little squirrels look perched
+in the branches of a tree! I
+like to watch them as they nimbly run up
+the trunk or spring from bough to bough.
+One or two are generally to be seen in a
+clump of great old beeches near a house
+in the country where I usually spend some
+happy weeks in summer; and I will tell
+you a story of a little squirrel whose acquaintance
+I made there last summer.</p>
+
+<p>I happened to be up very early one
+morning, long before breakfast was ready
+or any of the family were down, and I
+went out into the garden to enjoy the
+fresh, sweet smell of the early day. The
+cows were grazing in the field beyond,
+and now and then lowing a friendly
+&ldquo;good-morning&rdquo; to each other. Some
+ducks were waddling in procession down
+to the pond, quacking out their wise remarks
+as they went. The little birds
+were singing lustily their welcome to the
+new-born day. Even the old watch-dog
+came yawning, stretching, blinking and
+wagging his tail in kindly dog-fashion
+to bid me &ldquo;good-day&rdquo; in the summer
+sunshine.</p>
+
+<p>As I stood under the great beech trees,
+taking in with greedy eye and ear the
+sights and sounds of country-life so refreshing
+to a Londoner, I heard something
+fall from one of the trees, then a
+scuffle, and immediately afterward a white
+Persian cat belonging to the house
+bounded toward me in hot pursuit of a
+dear little squirrel. I was just in time to
+save the poor little animal by stepping
+between it and the cat. The squirrel
+passed under the edge of my dress and
+made off again up another tree; so pussy
+lost her prey.</p>
+
+<p>Soon afterward, when we were at
+breakfast, the butler told us that one
+of the little boys of the village, who had
+lost a pet squirrel, had asked if he might
+look for it in the garden of the house.
+It had first escaped into some trees in the
+park, and he had traced it from them into
+the garden. It at once occurred to me
+that this must be the little creature I had
+saved from the cat. I remembered how
+it made straight toward me, as if asking
+me for protection from its enemy,
+which only a tame squirrel would do;
+and I proposed, when breakfast was
+over, that we should go out and help in
+the search.</p>
+
+<p>Little Jack Tompkins stood under the
+beech trees, looking with tear-stained
+face up into the branches. Suddenly I
+saw his face brighten, and he called out,
+&ldquo;I see un, ma&rsquo;am; I see un! If so be
+no one warn&rsquo;t by, I be sure he&rsquo;d come
+to I.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>I need not say we retreated to a distance;
+then Jack called up the tree in a
+loud whisper, &ldquo;Billee, Billee!&rdquo; and in a
+minute down came the little creature on
+to his shoulder. I can tell you Jack was a
+happier child than he had been when he
+came into the garden. And when I told
+him what a narrow escape &ldquo;Billee&rdquo; had
+had from the cat, he said, &ldquo;It would be
+hard if a cat eat he, for our old puss
+brought he up with her own kits.&rdquo; Then
+he told us how the squirrel, when a tiny
+thing, had dropped out of its nest and
+been found by him lying almost dead at
+the foot of a tree, and how he had carried
+it home and tried whether pussy would
+adopt it as one of her own kittens. The
+cat was kind; the squirrel throve under
+her motherly care, and became Jack&rsquo;s
+pet and companion.</p>
+
+<p>Now, children, in this instance it was
+all very well to keep a tame squirrel.
+&ldquo;Billee&rdquo; seemed happy leading the life
+he was accustomed to; he had been fed
+and cared for by human beings from his
+infancy, and might be as incapable of
+finding food and managing for himself in
+a wild state as a poor canary would be
+if let loose from its cage. But generally
+it is cruel to imprison little wild birds and
+animals who have known the enjoyment
+of liberty.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_161" id="Page_161">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>161]</a></span></p>
+
+<div class="figcenter ipadtop" style="width: 600px;">
+<img src="images/hd065.jpg" width="600" height="454"
+alt="A squirrel holding a partially eaten nut" />
+</div>
+
+<p class="caption">THE SQUIRREL.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_162" id="Page_162">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>162]</a></span></p>
+
+<h2>PUPPET.</h2>
+
+
+<p><span class="dropcap">P</span>UPPET had two occupations. She
+had also a guitar and a half-bushel
+basket. These things were her capital&mdash;her
+stock in trade.</p>
+
+<p>The guitar belonged to one of her occupations,
+the half-bushel basket to the
+other.</p>
+
+<p>In consideration of her first employment,
+she might have been called a street
+guitarist. In consideration of her second,
+she might have been called a beggar&mdash;a
+broken-bits beggar.</p>
+
+<p>Puppet would have been considered,
+among lawyers, &ldquo;shrewd;&rdquo; or, at a mothers&rsquo;
+meeting, &ldquo;cunning;&rdquo; or, among business
+men, &ldquo;sharp.&rdquo; That is to say, she
+knew a thing or two. She knew that being
+able to sing no songs was a disadvantage
+to her first occupation, as a large
+hole, half way up her basket, was an advantage
+to her second.</p>
+
+<p>It seems odd that a hole in one&rsquo;s begging
+basket should be an advantage.</p>
+
+<p>But because of the hole, she had always
+behind her a crowd of dogs, that seemed
+to have been just dropped from the basket,
+the last one never having fairly got
+his nose out; and because of the dogs
+she was known as &ldquo;Puppet&rdquo; all over the
+city.</p>
+
+<p>To be known by a characteristic name
+is of great advantage to a beggar.</p>
+
+<p>If Biddy, looking from the basement
+door, says to cook, &ldquo;Och, an&rsquo; there
+comes up the street our little Puppet,
+with her dogs all behind her, carrying
+her basket,&rdquo; cook is much more likely
+to see the broken bits &ldquo;botherin&rsquo;
+roun&rsquo; on the schalves o&rsquo; the cubbid,&rdquo;
+than she would be if Biddy should say,
+&ldquo;Shure, an&rsquo; thir cams to us a dirty beggar,
+it is.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>But it is with Puppet&rsquo;s first occupation,
+and not her second, that we have to do.
+If you had not read more descriptions of
+faces within the last year than you can
+possibly remember in all the years of
+your life put together, I would tell you
+what sort of face Puppet&rsquo;s was; that it
+was a bright face, with blue eyes, just the
+color of the blue ribbon that went first
+round the guitar&rsquo;s neck, and then round
+Puppet&rsquo;s; that Puppet&rsquo;s teeth were
+as white as the mother-of-pearl pegs
+that held her guitar strings at the bottom;
+that her cheeks were as white as
+the ivory keys; that her hair was long,
+and yellow&mdash;just the shade of the guitar&rsquo;s
+yellow face.</p>
+
+<p>But that would be very much like a
+dozen other faces that you have seen; so
+I will only say that it was a smiling little
+face.</p>
+
+<p>It smiled as it bent over the guitar,
+while the little fingers picked their ways
+in and out among the strings; and it
+smiled yet more sweetly as she looked up
+to catch the coppers thrown from the
+fourth and fifth story, and sky-parlor windows.</p>
+
+<p>Puppet once lived with a man who
+said that he was her uncle; and she believed
+him so thoroughly, that she let him
+box her ears whenever he felt like it, till
+he died. Since then Puppet had lived
+almost friendless and alone.</p>
+
+<p>One hot July day Puppet was wandering
+through the streets of the great city,
+with her little guitar under her little arm.
+The city did not seem so great to Puppet
+as it does to some of the rest of us, because
+she was born and brought up there.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;O, dear,&rdquo; sighed Puppet, &ldquo;<em>what</em> a
+mean place you are!&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>No one had given her a copper since
+the cool of the morning. People seemed
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_163" id="Page_163">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>163]</a></span>
+to have a fancy for spending their coppers
+on soda-water and ice-cream.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;What shall I do?&rdquo; moaned Puppet.
+Whatever should she do? Puppet must
+have coppers, or she could not live.</p>
+
+<p>She sat in a cool, shaded court, close
+to the busy street; but she couldn&rsquo;t get
+away from the heat, and the noise, and
+the people sighing, like herself, &ldquo;O dear,
+O dear!&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I&rsquo;ll try once more,&rdquo; said Puppet, tuning
+her guitar.</p>
+
+<p>She played &ldquo;Home, Sweet Home,&rdquo;
+with variations. But all the people who
+heard her were suffering, because their
+homes in the city were rather hot than
+sweet. &ldquo;Home, Sweet Home&rdquo; could
+win no pennies from &ldquo;city folks&rdquo; in July.</p>
+
+<p>Then Puppet whistled to her guitar accompaniment
+a little &ldquo;Bird Waltz,&rdquo; and
+whirled on the pavement in time, till I
+doubt if she herself knew whether the
+guitar had gone mad, and were waltzing
+about her, or she were waltzing about the
+guitar.</p>
+
+<p>A boy came dancing into the court,
+singing,&mdash;</p>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">&ldquo;O, whistle, and I&rsquo;ll come to you, my lad!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">O, whistle, and I&rsquo;ll come to you, my lad!&rdquo;<br /></span>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<p>But he danced out again, without leaving
+a penny behind him; so it would have
+been just as well if he had never come in.
+Still, he amused himself for a few minutes,
+which not many people were able to
+do in that hot July midday.</p>
+
+<p>Puppet went from the little court, and
+wandered on and on. At last she left the
+city far away behind her.</p>
+
+<p>And out and away from the city there
+were green fields.</p>
+
+<p>Puppet had heard of green fields, but
+she had never seen any face to face before.
+As she looked at them, she had a
+dim remembrance that she had heard that
+they were covered with long, waving grass.
+But all these fields were close shaven,
+like the beautiful mouse-colored horses in
+the city.</p>
+
+<p>It was pleasant, but not very exciting
+to a city girl. The city girl presently
+grew tired of it.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;There seem to be houses farther
+along,&rdquo; she said; &ldquo;I&rsquo;ll go and play
+there.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Puppet slung the little guitar about her
+little neck, and started off again.</p>
+
+<p>Presently she came to a cottage with a
+little green yard in front of it, and in
+the middle of the little green yard was a
+great green tree.</p>
+
+<p>Puppet sat down on the grass, leaned
+against the tree, and felt very hungry.</p>
+
+<p>A lady was sitting by an open window,
+sewing. She was sitting so that Puppet
+could see only a bit of her left cheek, and
+her dark hair, just beginning to turn gray,
+and her right hand as she brought the
+needle up from her work. From what
+she did see, Puppet thought that she
+would give her something to eat, if she
+could but get her attention. Surely, she
+must be often hungry herself, or why
+should she have so many gray hairs?</p>
+
+<p>Puppet, leaning against the tree, ran
+her fingers over the guitar frets in light
+harmonies; but the lady did not look.</p>
+
+<p>Her thoughts must be far away, in a
+quiet and happy place, that Puppet&rsquo;s
+harmonies should seem a part of that
+place.</p>
+
+<p>The guitar broke into a low, mournful
+minor. Still the lady gave no heed to
+Puppet.</p>
+
+<p>Puppet was feeling very hungry. She
+would play the Fandango. That <em>must</em>
+rouse any one. She began at the most
+rattling part.</p>
+
+<p>The gray-haired lady looked round
+quickly. &ldquo;Bless me, bless me! what&rsquo;s
+this?&rdquo; Seeing a little girl out by the
+tree, she put her sewing on the table, and
+came to the door and into the yard.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Dear me! a little girl with yellow
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_164" id="Page_164">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>164]</a></span>
+hair, and I just to have been dreaming
+of a little girl with yellow hair!&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Is anything the matter with my hair,
+mum?&rdquo; Puppet stopped playing, and
+ran her hands through the yellow mass
+of uncombed locks.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Ah, no, little girl! there is nothing
+the matter with your hair. Only&mdash;&rdquo;
+The lady was thinking how soft, and fine,
+and curly was the yellow hair of which
+she had been dreaming.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;What do you want?&rdquo; asked the lady.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I&rsquo;m very hungry,&rdquo; said Puppet, &ldquo;because
+of the walk, and&mdash;and&mdash;and all,&rdquo;
+concluded Puppet, remembering that the
+lady could not understand.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Come in, then.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Puppet went in. Up in one corner of
+the sitting-room were a little tip-cart and
+a doll. Puppet ate her bread and meat,
+looking hard at the tip-cart.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Where is it, mum?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Where is what, child?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;The child, mum.&rdquo; Puppet pointed to
+the tip-cart.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Gone, my dear,&rdquo; said the lady, softly.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Dead?&rdquo; Puppet remembered that
+that was what they said about her uncle
+when he went away. It was the only going
+away that she had ever known.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Yes, I suppose so,&rdquo; said the lady,
+with a little shiver.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;That&rsquo;s bad, mum.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;No, not bad,&rdquo; said the lady, sorrowfully.
+&ldquo;It is just right that it should be so.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;But it must be lonesome like, unless
+there were kicks and things.&rdquo; Puppet
+was still thinking of her uncle.</p>
+
+<p>The lady wondered what the child could
+mean, and not knowing, said,&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;What&rsquo;s your name? How could I
+have forgotten to ask your name?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Puppet.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;That&rsquo;s a funny name. And where do
+you live?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Two or three miles away from here.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Have you walked here to-day?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Yes, mum.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;What should make the child walk so
+far, I wonder?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Money, mum, and things to eat.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Have you eaten enough?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Yes. I must go home now, or I shall
+be late.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Are you sure you know the way?&rdquo;
+asked the lady, a little anxiously. &ldquo;You&rsquo;re
+such a little thing!&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;O, yes, mum! Go as I came.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Well, good by.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Good by, mum.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>But was Puppet <em>sure</em> that she knew
+the way?</p>
+
+
+<p class="smlpadt">The next morning, a man walking on a
+road that ran by the edge of a meadow,
+was going to his work.</p>
+
+<p>Hark! What did he hear? Was it a
+cry! was it a child&rsquo;s cry? And what was
+that? It sounded like a fiddle. He
+stopped to look around.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I declare, we&rsquo;ve had a high tide in
+the night!&rdquo; said he, and trudged on.</p>
+
+<p>But what was that? <em>That</em> was certainly
+a child&rsquo;s cry.</p>
+
+<p>The man looked sharply about.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;It can&rsquo;t be she,&rdquo; he said. &ldquo;Folks
+from heaven wouldn&rsquo;t cry, even if they
+were let to come&mdash;at least, if they were
+little children.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>And so he still looked sharply about.
+And looking, what did he see?</p>
+
+<p>He saw great haystacks of meadow
+hay out in the meadow, with the tide-water
+all about them. Then his eyes were fixed
+on one particular haystack. On its top,
+with her yellow hair and smiling face in
+sight, was&mdash;it could not be, though&mdash;but
+it was&mdash;a little girl, and dangling by
+the side of the stack was a guitar with a
+yellow face. The man waded through
+the water that lay between the dry land
+and the stack.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Crawl down to my shoulders;&rdquo; and
+he stood by the side of the stack till she
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_165" id="Page_165">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>165]</a></span>
+was on his shoulders, with her arms about
+his neck.</p>
+
+<div class="figcenter ipadboth" style="width: 530px;">
+<img src="images/hd066.jpg" width="530" height="400"
+alt="Puppet, with her guitar, sitting on top of a haystack" />
+</div>
+
+<p>&ldquo;How came you there?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I went everywhere to try to get home,
+and it was dark, all but the moon; and I
+saw the stack, and a board went from the
+ground to the top of it.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Sure enough, the prop.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;And I was so tired!&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Poor child!&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;And I never saw the water come before,
+and it was only wet enough to wet
+my feet when I got up.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Well, well! We&rsquo;ll go home and get
+something to eat.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>The man walked into his kitchen with
+the little girl and the guitar on his shoulders.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Why, John, are you back? Dear me,
+if there isn&rsquo;t that same child&mdash;Puppet!&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>John went off to his work again. Puppet
+ate her breakfast, and told her story,
+and then said,&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Please, mum, may I play with the
+cart?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>And because of her yellow hair, she
+might play with the cart.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;But aren&rsquo;t you sick, and oughtn&rsquo;t you
+to take some medicine, and go to bed?&rdquo;
+asked the lady, whose hair had grown
+gray over sickness and medicine.</p>
+
+<p>Puppet meditated. She felt very well.
+She thought that she had rather play with
+the tip-cart than to take medicine. So
+she played all day, and went to bed at
+night.</p>
+
+<p>At night John come home from his
+work, and, as usual, heard of all that had
+happened through the day.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I wish we could keep the little thing,
+John, dear. She has yellow hair, just
+like&mdash;&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Yes,&rdquo; said John, &ldquo;I saw.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;And she&rsquo;d be <em>such</em> a comfort!&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;If she didn&rsquo;t die by and by,&rdquo; said
+John.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_166" id="Page_166">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>166]</a></span>
+&ldquo;But, John, dear, just think of a little
+thing like her spending the night in the
+middle of a meadow, with the water all
+about her.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>John thought. And he thought that
+if she could stand that without being
+sick, she could stand their love without
+dying.</p>
+
+<p>So Puppet and the guitar live with John
+and the gray-haired lady.</p>
+
+<p class="sig smcap">Mary B. Harris.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+
+<div class="figcenter ipadtop" style="width: 484px;">
+<a name="Page_166lower" id="Page_166lower"></a>
+<img src="images/hd067.jpg" width="484" height="400"
+alt="Mike lying at the bottom of the steps" />
+</div>
+
+<p class="caption">&ldquo;<span class="smcap">Mike rolled over and over to the foot of the steps.</span>&rdquo; See p. <a href="#Page_169">169</a>.</p>
+
+<h2>MERRY CHRISTMAS.</h2>
+
+
+<p><span class="dropcap">A</span>LL the hill-side was green with maples,
+and birches, and pines. The
+meadows at its foot were green, too, with
+the tufted salt grass, and glittering with
+the silver threads of tide braided among
+its winding creeks. Beyond was the city,
+misty and gray, stretching its wan arms
+to the phantom ships flitting along the
+horizon.</p>
+
+<p>From the green hill-side you could hear
+the city&rsquo;s muffled hum and roar, and sometimes
+the far-off clanging of the bells from
+its hundred belfries. But the maples and
+birches seemed to hear and see nothing
+beyond the sunshine over their heads and
+the winds which went frolicking by. Life
+was one long dance with them, through
+the budding spring and the leafy summer,
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_167" id="Page_167">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>167]</a></span>
+and on through the grand gala days of
+autumn, till the frost came down on the
+hills, and whispered,&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Your dancing days are all over.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>But the pines were quite different.
+They, the stately ones, stood quite aloof,
+the older and taller ones looking stiffly
+over the heads of the rollicking maples,
+and making solemn reverences to the
+great gray clouds that swept inland from
+the ocean. The straight little saplings
+at their feet copied the manners of their
+elders, and folding their fingers primly,
+and rustling their stiff little green petticoats
+decorously, sat up so silent and
+proper.</p>
+
+<p>So unlike the small birches and maples
+that chattered incessantly, wagging their
+giddy heads, and playing tag with the
+butterflies in the sunshine all the day long!</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;How tiresome those stupid old pines
+are! No expression, no animation. So
+lofty and so exclusive, and forever grumbling
+to each other in their hoarse old
+Scandinavian, which it gives one the
+croup even to listen to! Of what possible
+use <em>can</em> they be?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>This was what the maple said to the
+birch one day when the Summer and her
+patience with her sombre neighbor were
+on the wane&mdash;one day when there was a
+gleam of golden pumpkins in the tawny
+corn stubble beyond the wood, and the
+purpling grapes hung ripening over the
+old stone wall that lay between, and the
+maple had brightened its summer dress
+with a gay little leaf set here and there in
+its shining folds.</p>
+
+<p>The birch agreed with the maple about
+the pines, and the maple went glibly on.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I&rsquo;ve ordered my autumn dresses&mdash;a
+different one for each day in the week.
+Just think of those horrid pines never
+altering the fashion of their stiff old
+plaiting.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;We shall not be obliged to remain in
+this dull place much longer,&rdquo; said the tall
+pines loftily to each other, looking quite
+over the heads of the maple and the birch.
+&ldquo;We shall soon be crossing the ocean,
+and then our lives will have just begun.
+We simply vegetate here.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Ho, ho!&rdquo; laughed the maple and the
+birch behind their fluttering green fans,
+pretending to be greatly amused at what
+the west wind was saying to them.</p>
+
+<p>Now, though the trees spoke a different
+language, yet each understood perfectly
+well what the other said; so their rudeness
+was quite inexcusable.</p>
+
+<p>When the summer was ended, the maple
+began to put on her gorgeous autumn
+dresses; but the pines looked much at
+the sky, and paid little heed to the maple.
+The other trees on the hill-side, quite
+faded with their summer gayeties, looked
+on languidly in the still autumn days at
+the maple&rsquo;s brilliant toilets.</p>
+
+<p>Soon the cold rains swept in from the
+sea, blurring the wood vistas; and when
+they were gone, the frost came in the
+midnight, with its unwelcome message,
+and later the snow lay white above all
+the faded and fallen crimson and gold
+of the maple and the tarnished silver of
+the birch.</p>
+
+<p>All the trees, brown and bare now,
+moaned in the wintry wind&mdash;all but the
+tall pines, and they were crossing the
+ocean; their lives had begun. The little
+saplings remained behind, but with their
+heads perked stiffly up above the snow;
+they had the air of expecting somebody.</p>
+
+<p>They were not disappointed. One sunny
+morning, a boy and a girl came singing
+through the wood paths, each in a pair of
+high-topped boots, and each in a faded
+and closely-buttoned coat, the girl with a
+blue hood pulled over her rosy face, and
+the boy with a fur cap closely tied about
+his ears by a red comforter. The two
+drew a hand-sled, and peered about under
+the tall trunks as they went stamping
+through the deep snow. How they shouted
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_168" id="Page_168">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>168]</a></span>
+as they spied the little pine trees perking
+up their heads! How they tossed
+aside the snow, and worked away with
+their jackknives, hacking at the little pine
+trees till they had cut them all down, all
+ready to be piled up on their hand-sled.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Where are you going?&rdquo; asked the
+giddy little birch of the pines, peeping
+out from a small window in her snow-house.
+Her nose was purple, and her
+fingers stiff with cold; but down under
+the earth her feet were warm, and that
+was pleasant, at any rate.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;It is of no consequence where,&rdquo; said
+the pines, in their grimmest Scandinavian.</p>
+
+<p>The birch simply said, &ldquo;O!&rdquo; and drew
+in her little purple nose, hoping heartily
+they were all going to be burned, as that
+would be a good end and riddance of them.</p>
+
+<p>But the little pines were not going to
+be burned; they were going away to the
+city that lay misty and still beyond the
+frozen meadows. Stretched out stiffly on
+the hand-sled, they were jostled along out
+through the wood, over the frozen turnpike,
+and across the mill-dam to Boston.</p>
+
+<p>They alighted at the Boylston Market,
+and were ranged in a row against the dark
+brick wall.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;How much happens in a very short
+time!&rdquo; they said to each other; &ldquo;all
+those gaudy, chattering trees left without
+a leaf to cover them, our own friends all
+gone on their travels, and we here in the
+city, wrapped in our warm winter furs.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>It was the Christmas week. The shop
+windows were gay with toys and gorgeous
+Christmas offerings; the shop doors were
+opening and shutting on the crowd that
+came and went through them. A bustling
+throng of people passed incessantly up
+and down the narrow sidewalks, and carriages
+of all descriptions blocked the
+crossings, or drove recklessly over the
+frozen pavement.</p>
+
+<p>The old woman in the quilted black
+hood and shaggy cape, who had charge
+of the little pine trees, drove a brisk trade
+that day in her wreaths and holly; but
+though many people stopped to admire the
+little pines, and even to ask their price, no
+purchaser had yet appeared for them.</p>
+
+<p>The old dame was rubbing her mittened
+hands briskly together, and mumbling in
+a displeased way at the pine trees, when
+a carriage drew suddenly up at the curbstone,
+and out sprang a little girl.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;See, papa, how lovely! So green, and
+fresh, and thick!&rdquo; she said, pointing to
+the row of pines.</p>
+
+<p>A bargain was concluded in a trice.
+The money was dropped into the eager,
+outstretched mitten of the old woman,
+and a little Christmas tree dragged over
+the sidewalk, and set up in the buggy.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;We must have some of these lower
+branches cut off; they are in the way,&rdquo;
+said papa.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Hev a knife, sir?&rdquo; shouted a ragged
+little fellow, whipping a rusty old knife
+out of his pocket.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Please, sir, lemme cut it for you. Say,
+where?&rdquo; he cried, laying hold of the pine,
+as the gentleman in the buggy pointed to
+him where to cut.</p>
+
+<p>The lower branches being trimmed to
+the gentleman&rsquo;s satisfaction, the Christmas
+tree, leaning comfortably against the
+crimson afghan, was soon on its way to
+Meadow Home, while its lower branches
+and some jingling small coin remained in
+the hands of the gaping urchin on the
+curbstone.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;This here&rsquo;s luck&mdash;fust-rate luck,&rdquo;
+remarked the small boy, stamping his
+feet, and staring stupidly after the retreating
+buggy wheels.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Out of the way there!&rdquo; growled a
+man in a farmer&rsquo;s frock, lifting a pile of
+frozen turkeys from a wagon.</p>
+
+<p>The boy ducked aside, his ragged little
+trousers fluttering in the wind. Then he
+sat down on the market steps to count
+his coin.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_169" id="Page_169">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>169]</a></span>
+&ldquo;Hi! twenty-five cents. There&rsquo;s a
+mutton stew and onions for you and your
+folks a Christmas, Mike Slattery, and all
+this jolly green stuff thrown in free gratis.
+That chap was a gen&rsquo;leman, and no mistake.
+Won&rsquo;t Winnie hop when she sees
+me a-h&rsquo;isting of these here over our stairs,
+and she a-blowin&rsquo; at me for a week to
+bring her some sich, and me niver seein&rsquo;
+nary a chance at &rsquo;em &rsquo;cept stealin&rsquo;s, which
+is wot this here feller ain&rsquo;t up to no ways
+whatsomever. No, <em>sir</em>. Hi!&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Mike waved his Christmas boughs aloft
+in great glee.</p>
+
+<p>An old gentleman with gold-headed
+cane and spectacles was going up the
+steps of the market, followed by a beautiful
+black-and-white setter. The playful
+dog sprang at the green branches. Mike
+held on to them stoutly. The dog suddenly
+let go of them, and bounded away,
+while Mike rolled over and over to the
+foot of the steps, clutching tightly the
+pine boughs.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;You&rsquo;ll ketch it,&rdquo; he muttered, setting
+his teeth hard together behind his white
+lips, and trying in vain to scramble up.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Yer hurt, bub?&rdquo; asked a wrinkled
+old apple woman, turning round on her
+three-legged stool, and thrusting her nose
+inquiringly out of the folds of the old
+brown shawl, which was wrapped around
+her head.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;You bet I be!&rdquo; whimpered Mike,
+pointing forlornly with his one unoccupied
+finger to his bruised ankle.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Been playin&rsquo; pitch-pennies, yer mis&rsquo;ble
+young &rsquo;un!&rdquo; grinned a tall boy, strolling
+by with his hands in his pockets, and
+his ferret eyes on the sharp lookout for
+mischief.</p>
+
+<p>In a twinkling he swooped up Mike&rsquo;s
+small coin, which had rattled to the pavement,
+and vanished with them in a struggling
+tangle of horse cars and omnibuses
+before Mike finished his desperate yell of,
+&ldquo;Gim me &rsquo;um.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>By this time a crowd had gathered about
+the prostrate Mike, who, faint with pain,
+was at last lifted into the chaise of a kind-hearted
+doctor, who was passing, and carried
+to his house in Bone Court.</p>
+
+<p>There we will leave Mike for a while,
+and look after the little pine tree on its
+way to Meadow Home.</p>
+
+<p>Such a group of round, rosy faces as
+were on the watch for it in the great bay
+window of Meadow Home, peering out
+in the red sunset, straining their eyes in
+the dim twilight, and peering still more
+persistently as the stars came out through
+the gathering darkness!</p>
+
+<p>The fire danced in the grate, and the
+shadows danced on the wall, and the four
+little heads danced more and more impatiently
+in the window pane, as the cold
+winter night settled down on the world
+outside of Meadow Home.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;They&rsquo;re run away with and threw
+out. What will you bet, Mab?&rdquo; shouted
+Will, turning away from the window in
+disgust, and indulging in a double somerset.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;<em>Thrown</em>, Will,&rdquo; corrected Mabel, just
+now more indignant with his grammar
+than his slang.</p>
+
+<p>Mabel began to clear with her sleeve
+an unblurred peep through the pane, and
+then pressed her nose hard against the
+glass.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;It&rsquo;s <em>my</em> opinion,&rdquo; she said, with great
+pompousness, &ldquo;that the Christmas trees
+are all sold. I told Ely not to put off
+buying till to-day. Don&rsquo;t you remember,
+Alice? And so papa is just coming home
+without them.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Alice poh-pohed. Alice was sitting up
+stiffly at a table by the fire, stuffing a
+pin-cushion, assisted, or, more properly,
+impeded, by her small brother Chrissy,
+who had offered his services, and would
+not listen to Alice&rsquo;s nay. Chrissy was
+not handsome in any light, but by the
+flickering firelight he looked like a little
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_170" id="Page_170"><!-- Illustration - THE LITTLE SLATTERYS --></a></span>
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_171" id="Page_171">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>171]</a></span>
+ogre. He sat hunched up in his chair,
+his knees drawn up to his nose, the sharp
+end of his tongue curling out of the
+corner of his mouth, and his small eyes
+actually crossed in the earnestness of
+his work, which consisted in snatching
+chances at the stuffing with a table-spoon
+and a cup of bran.</p>
+
+<div class="figcenter ipadtop" style="width: 407px;">
+<img src="images/hd068.jpg" width="407" height="600"
+alt="Three children holding firewood, in front of the fireplace with a cat" />
+</div>
+
+<p class="caption">THE LITTLE SLATTERYS.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I hear them,&rdquo; exclaimed Mabel, springing
+down from the window, her nose a
+spectacle.</p>
+
+<p>Now away down stairs flew all the four,
+who had been wriggling for an hour in
+the bay window.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Shut the door, Chrissy,&rdquo; nodded the
+dignified Alice to Chrissy, whose eyes
+had marvellously uncrossed, and whose
+tongue had disappeared at Mabel&rsquo;s announcement.
+Chrissy drew down his
+knees, and obeyed. &ldquo;Spoon up the bran
+you spilled, Chrissy,&rdquo; directed Alice,
+calmly stitching at her pin-cushion.</p>
+
+<p>The reluctant Chrissy&rsquo;s obedience was
+less of a success this time. The noise
+of a great commotion in the hall below
+reached the quiet chamber. Chrissy,
+with his face twisted inquiringly first
+over one shoulder and then over the
+other, spooned at random.</p>
+
+<p>The sounds came nearer. Through the
+hurrying of eager feet and the clamor of
+glad voices was a tap-tapping on the
+wainscot and a thumping on the oaken
+stairs.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;May be it&rsquo;s St. Nicholas?&rdquo; questioned
+Chrissy, spooning very unsteadily, his eyes
+and his ears wide open.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;No; it isn&rsquo;t time for him. He&rsquo;s
+doing up his pack now, and they are harnessing
+his reindeer.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Who? Where?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>The door burst open, and in tumbled
+four children and the little pine tree.
+Chrissy darted forward, shrieking with
+delight, and fell headlong among the
+family group.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;What a pretty pine!&rdquo; said Alice,
+calmly locking up the pin-cushion in her
+work-box.</p>
+
+<p>Now Ely, still in her fur cap and sack,
+rushed in excitedly among her struggling
+brothers and sisters, and rescued the pine
+tree.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Sitting up so piminy there, Alice
+Eliot, your two hands folded, and the
+beautiful Christmas tree just going to destruction,
+with those four wretched little
+thunderbolts pitching into it!&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Ely was purple with wrath.</p>
+
+<p>The four little Eliots were on their feet
+again in a trice, giggling and nudging each
+other behind the excited Ely.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;It&rsquo;s a truly lovely pine,&rdquo; remarked
+Alice, composedly, shaking some bran
+from her skirt.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;You might have said so, if you had
+gone round looking for them in the freezing
+cold, as I did, and then couldn&rsquo;t find
+one fit to be seen, except&mdash;&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Alice, didn&rsquo;t I tell her so?&rdquo; interrupted
+Mabel, pulling Chrissy&rsquo;s fat fingers
+away from Ely&rsquo;s pocket just as they were
+about to grasp the protruding heels of a
+little dancing jack.</p>
+
+<p>Alice now lighted the gas, Ely set the
+pretty pine tree carefully against the wall,
+and the four little Eliots danced hand in
+hand frantically about it.</p>
+
+<p>Then Alice, and Mabel, and Ely went
+up close to the fender, and whispered together
+about the presents Ely had brought
+home to put in the children&rsquo;s stockings,
+and Mabel helped Ely empty her great
+stuffed-out pocket; and the fire laughed
+through the bars of the grate to see the
+parcels that came forth.</p>
+
+<p>By and by Mabel and Ely took the pine
+tree carefully down stairs into a beautiful
+room, and Alice came close behind them
+with a great covered basket. The four
+little Eliots followed noisily, striving to
+peep under the basket covers; but Ely
+thrust them all out again into the hall,
+and locked the door upon them.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_172" id="Page_172">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>172]</a></span>
+Now began the Christmas adorning of
+the little pine tree. Such beautiful things
+as were hung upon it, and folded about it,
+and festooned around it!</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;How charming to be a pine!&rdquo; murmured
+the little tree, with its head among
+the frescoed cherubs on the ceiling.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Where are you, Mabel Eliot? Light
+up the burners now,&rdquo; commanded Ely
+from the top of a step-ladder.</p>
+
+<p>Ely crept out from under the green
+baize around the foot of the pine tree,
+two pins in her mouth, a crimson smoking-cap
+on her dishevelled head, and a
+pair of large-flowered toilet slippers drawn
+over her hands.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I crawled in behind there to see if
+there mightn&rsquo;t be a place somewhere for
+these,&rdquo; explained Ely, hastening for the
+torch, and proceeding to light up.</p>
+
+<p>The pine tree now saw itself reflected
+in the great mirror opposite, and echoed
+the &ldquo;splendid&rdquo; of the three girls, who
+clapped their hands at the gorgeous effect.
+Then the lights were put out. The silver
+key was turned in the door again, and the
+girls went away, leaving the pine tree in
+darkness indeed.</p>
+
+<p>The four small Eliots, after pinning up
+their stockings by the chimney, seated
+themselves in their night-gowns on the
+hearth-rug, and talked over St. Nicholas
+before they got into bed. Each agreed
+to wake the others if he &ldquo;should just
+but catch Santa Claus coming down the
+chimney.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Chrissy, squinting up his eyes till nothing
+but two little lines of black lashes
+were visible, was sure &ldquo;he should catch
+him; O, yes, he should.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>So they all climbed sleepily into bed,
+pinning their faith on Chrissy.</p>
+
+<p>The night darkened and deepened, the
+stars moving on in a grand procession.
+Somewhere about midnight St. Nicholas
+was off on his ride, galloping over the roof-tops,
+and knocking at every chimney-top
+that had a knocker, just getting through
+at day dawn with the deal he had to do.
+The &ldquo;eight tiny reindeer&rdquo; had barely
+trotted him out of sight, when thousands
+of little children in thousands of homes
+began hopping out of bed to look in their
+stockings.</p>
+
+<p>The Christmas morning was breaking
+in joy and gladness, as if the dear Christ
+Child of eighteen hundred years ago were
+newly born that day. Little children, and
+old men, and maidens waked to give good
+gifts and greetings to each other, remembering
+whom the good Father in heaven
+had given to them on that first glad
+Christmas morn.</p>
+
+<p>In an attic in Bone Court, Mike Slattery,
+wildly staring about him, bolted up
+in bed, waked by big Winnie, and little
+Pat, and Jimmy roaring &ldquo;Merry Christmas&rdquo;
+in his ears.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Oop, Mike, an&rsquo; tak&rsquo; a look at Winnie&rsquo;s
+Christmas fixin&rsquo;s foreninst yer two eyes,&rdquo;
+piped Jimmy, flapping the little breeches
+he was too excited to put on at the little
+pine branches stuck up thickly in the
+window.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Isn&rsquo;t yer fut that better ye might hobble
+up to see what the good gintleman&mdash;him
+as brought ye home&mdash;left behind for
+yees and us arl&mdash;the Christmas things,
+ye&rsquo;ll mind?&rdquo; inquired Winnie, combing
+her tangled auburn locks, and stooping
+compassionately over Mike.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;There&rsquo;s the big burhd for yees,&rdquo; cackled
+little Pat, staggering up to the bedside
+with a goose hugged to his bosom.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Hooray!&rdquo; cried Mike, swinging his
+pillow; &ldquo;that thafe of a chap didn&rsquo;t do
+us out of our Christmas dinner, thin.
+Here&rsquo;s a go beyant mutton and onions.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Blissid be thim as saysonably remimbers
+the poor,&rdquo; sniffed Mrs. Slattery, who
+was down on her hands and knees washing
+up the broken bit of hearth under the
+stove.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;That&rsquo;s so,&rdquo; chimed in the little
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_173" id="Page_173">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>173]</a></span>
+Slatterys; and then they all fell again to admiring
+the goose.</p>
+
+<p>The sun had climbed a long way up the
+sky, and was just looking in through the
+pine branches in the Slatterys&rsquo; window,
+when a little golden head, surmounted by
+a blue velvet hat, looked in through the
+Slatterys&rsquo; door.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Merry Christmas. May I come in?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Pat looked at Jim, and Jim looked at
+Mike, and all three, open-mouthed, looked
+at the little golden head in the doorway.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I just came in to bring you some pretty
+story books of mine, and a cap of brother
+Jack&rsquo;s, and a nice new pair of shoes for
+Mike. How do you do, Mike, this morning?
+Papa&mdash;he&rsquo;s the doctor who brought
+you home, Mike&mdash;is coming soon to see
+you.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>She had emptied her little leathern bag,
+laid down her gifts on a chair, and vanished
+before Winnie got up the stairs
+from the wood-house, or Mrs. Slattery, in
+the closet, had finished skewering up the
+goose, or a single little Slattery had found
+a word to say.</p>
+
+<p>I cannot stay to tell you about the
+Slatterys&rsquo; Christmas dinner, and Mike
+perched up at the table, with brother
+Jack&rsquo;s cap on his head, and the new pair
+of shoes on the floor by his side. I have
+just time to stop a minute at Meadow
+Home, where a little golden head, with a
+little blue velvet hat tilted atop, flits in
+before me at the great hall door. As I
+went quickly through the holly and under
+the wreaths, a little voice, in wheedling
+tones, called from the gallery above,&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Stay to dine to dinner?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>At the same time a small dancing jack,
+dangling from somewhere overhead,
+caught by his hands and feet in my
+chignon, as if striving to pull me up. Ah,
+naughty Chrissy!</p>
+
+<p>Chrissy clapped his hands in delight,
+and then dropping the string of the little
+jack, ran away swiftly to hide.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Do stay to dine, aunt Clara,&rdquo; begged
+Mabel, and Alice, and Ely, all three
+springing forward at once to disengage
+the jumping jack from my hair.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Ah, do, Miss Clara; I&rsquo;ve something
+to tell you about a little boy I saw this
+morning,&rdquo; pleaded little golden-head,
+peering through an evergreen arch. &ldquo;Do
+stay and see the Christmas tree lighted
+after dinner,&rdquo; besought all four, gathering
+closely around me.</p>
+
+<p>But aunt Clara was engaged to dine at
+the square old house over the way, with
+the dear old lady who could not see the
+pine wreaths that made her old-fashioned
+parlor so sweet with their resinous, balmy
+fragrance.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;They remind me of the times when
+my girls and boys were all about me so gay
+and happy, and the old house resounded
+with their &lsquo;Merry Christmas.&rsquo; &rsquo;Tis many
+a year now, dear Clara, since there was a
+merry Christmas here; but happy Christmases
+there have been, thank God, not a
+few. A happy Christmas, dear, to you,
+and thanks for brightening the day for
+me,&rdquo; said the old lady, with a gentle sigh,
+as I placed her at the quiet table.</p>
+
+<p>A merry, merry Christmas to all the
+little &ldquo;Merrys&rdquo; who read this story. Do
+not forget that there are homes where
+live forlorn little Mikes and Jimmys,
+whom you can make glad in this glad
+time; and do not forget that there are
+sorrowing homes which the mere sight
+and sound of your bright young faces
+and voices will brighten and cheer.</p>
+
+<p class="sig">E. G. C.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_174" id="Page_174">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>174]</a></span></p>
+
+<div class="figcenter ipadtop" style="width: 415px;">
+<img src="images/hd069.jpg" width="415" height="600"
+alt="Annie stands on tiptoe to see the food on the table" />
+</div>
+
+<p class="caption">ANNIE.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_175" id="Page_175">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>175]</a></span></p>
+
+<h2>ANNIE.</h2>
+
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p class="cap">I&rsquo;VE a sweet little pet; she is up with the lark,<br />
+<span class="i2">And at eve she&rsquo;s asleep when the valleys are dark,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And she chatters and dances the blessed day long,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Now laughing in gladness, now singing a song.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">She never is silent; the whole summer day<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">She is off on the green with the blossoms at play;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Now seeking a buttercup, plucking a rose,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Or laughing aloud at the thistle she blows.<br /></span></p>
+</div>
+
+<div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">She never is still; now at some merry elf<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">You&rsquo;ll smile as you watch her, in spite of yourself;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">You may chide her in vain, for those eyes, full of fun,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Are smiling in mirth at the mischief she&rsquo;s done;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And whatever you do, that same thing, without doubt,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Must the mischievous Annie be busied about;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">She&rsquo;s as brown as a nut, but a beauty to me,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And there&rsquo;s nothing her keen little eyes cannot see.<br /></span>
+</div>
+
+<div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">She dances and sings, and has many sweet airs;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And to infant accomplishments adding her prayers,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">I have told everything that the darling can do,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">For &rsquo;twas only last summer her years numbered two.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">She&rsquo;s the picture of health, and a southern-born thing<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Just as ready to weep as she&rsquo;s ready to sing,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And I fain would be foe to lip that hath smiled<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">At this wee bit of song of the <em>dear little</em> child.<br /></span>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_176" id="Page_176">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>176]</a></span></p>
+
+<h2>IF; OR, BESSIE GREEN&rsquo;S HOLIDAY.</h2>
+
+
+<p><span class="dropcap">I</span>T seems absurd to say so, and at first sight almost impossible, that that one
+little word of only two letters could have so much power, and yet there is
+no doubt that the constant use of &ldquo;<em>if</em>&rdquo; spoilt Bessie Green&rsquo;s holiday and took
+away from it all the enjoyment and pleasure which she imagined a long summer
+day spent in the country would give. How she had thought about it and
+looked forward to it for weeks beforehand! Her parents were poor, hardworking
+people who rarely left home, and so the very idea of a treat like this was
+delightful, and she scarcely slept the night before, so afraid was she of not
+being ready in time. I cannot tell you how often she got up in the course of
+the night, either to see what o&rsquo;clock it was or to look out of the window and
+wonder whether it was going to be a fine or a wet day, but it seemed to her
+as if morning would never come. However, long before six she was up and
+dressed, and with one last good-bye to her mother through the kitchen door
+was off to the station. And very soon the train went speeding away from the
+smoky streets of the city toward the green fields and shady lanes of the
+country.</p>
+
+<p>Now, if Bessie Green had been as wise as her companions, she would have
+done as they did&mdash;looked out of the window and admired all she saw passing
+by, and so have begun the enjoyment of the day; for to eyes unaccustomed to
+such scenes even the cows and sheep grazing in the meadows or the horses
+galloping off across the fields frightened by the train were all new and amusing
+sights. But our foolish little friend, instead of doing this, began to look first
+at her own dress and then at her neighbors&rsquo;, and thereby she grew discontented:
+&ldquo;<em>If</em> I only had a felt hat with a red feather in it, like Mary Jones&rsquo;,
+instead of this straw one with a plain bit of blue ribbon round it, how I should
+like it! and <em>if</em> mother would buy me a smart muslin frock, such as Emma
+Smith wears, how much better it would be than the cotton frocks she always
+gets for me!&rdquo; And she pouted and frowned and looked so miserable that her
+schoolfellows would have wondered what was the matter if they had noticed
+her, but they were so busy thinking of other things that they never saw there
+was anything amiss. Happy children! They had resolved to enjoy themselves,
+and they did so from morning till night, while unhappy little Bessie let
+discontent creep in, and so her holiday&mdash;that day she had looked forward to so
+much&mdash;was, as I said before, spoilt.</p>
+
+<p>Ah! I fear there are many people in this world, both young and old, who
+do as Bessie did: instead of being contented with the state of life in which
+God has placed them, and doing their best to make themselves and others
+happy, they let this little word &ldquo;<em>if</em>&rdquo; creep in on every occasion, and in too
+many cases spoil not <em>one day only</em>, but their <em>whole lives</em>.</p>
+
+<div class="figcenter ipadtop" style="width: 448px;">
+<img src="images/hd070.jpg" width="448" height="550"
+alt="Bessie leans around the edge of the door" />
+</div>
+
+<p class="caption">GOOD-BYE.</p>
+
+<p>But to return to our story. The train went speeding along, miles and miles
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_177" id="Page_177"><!-- Illustration - GOOD-BYE --></a></span>
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_178" id="Page_178">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>178]</a></span>
+away from London, with its millions of people and houses and hot, dusty streets
+and courts, where almost the only green leaves were the cabbages on the costermongers&rsquo;
+trucks, out into the pure, fresh, breezy country, where houses were
+as scarce as trees in the city, and the cornfields stretched away and away, till
+bounded in the far distance by sloping heathery hills. And what a shout of
+pleasure arose from the two hundred throats of our little travellers when at
+length they stopped at a roadside station and exchanged the train for a shady
+lane leading to a park, the kind owner of which had placed it at their disposal
+for the day! Now ought not Bessie to have begun at last to enjoy herself?
+No; foolish Bessie had seen a carriage at the station, and envied the ladies
+who got into it: &ldquo;<em>If</em> I had a carriage and horses, how much pleasanter it
+would be driving up this lane, instead of walking as I am obliged to do now!&rdquo;
+And so she went along at such a slow, sulky pace that she was far behind when
+the lodge gates were reached, and was almost shut out when the children and
+teachers were admitted into the park. And as they had shouted for joy at
+sight of the shady lanes, how much more did they shout when they saw the
+beautiful spot in which for a whole long day they were to amuse themselves!
+There were meadows covered with hay&mdash;not such hay as is seen in stables,
+brown and hard and stiff, but soft, green and grassy-looking, smelling sweetly,
+and just the thing to roll about in and cover one another up with; then there
+was a nice level cricket-ground, and all ready for the boys to begin a game;
+there were shady trees under which to sit and listen to the birds&rsquo; songs, and
+woody dells and valleys full of ferns and wild flowers; ponds on which swans
+swam about and came on swiftly and silently through the water in hopes of
+food, and little streams trickling along with a murmuring noise between the
+rushes and yellow flags which grew on their banks. Certainly this was a delightful
+spot to be in; and when in the midst of the beautiful park they saw
+the house and gardens&mdash;a house so large that it seemed a palace in the eyes of
+the children, while the gardens were filled with flowers of every color&mdash;they
+shouted again, all except Bessie, who of course began again to envy: &ldquo;Oh,
+what a splendid house! <em>If</em> I could only live there, I am sure I should never
+be unhappy again; <em>if</em> I could stay here and not go back to London; <em>if</em>&mdash;&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>But at this point her grumbling came to a sudden stop, for at a given signal
+all the children, who had been racing over the grass, formed into line and
+marched straight up to the house to make their bows and curtseys to the kind
+lady and gentleman who lived there, and who had come out into the porch
+with her own little girls and boys to welcome the visitors. Of course Bessie
+found something fresh to be discontented at: &ldquo;<em>If</em> I were one of that lady&rsquo;s
+little girls, I should be dressed as nicely as she is, and then, <em>if</em> I liked to play
+about here all day long, I could do so.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>And in this way she went on all the day. After going to the house and listening
+to a few words from the owner, and in return singing one of their
+prettiest songs, the children were sent off to play, and in a few minutes they
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_179" id="Page_179">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>179]</a></span>
+were scattered in all directions, amusing themselves in different ways; and
+though Bessie joined in many games, yet that one word &ldquo;<em>if</em>&rdquo; was in her mind
+the whole time, and she did not play as merrily as usual. Dinner came, and
+the children, called together by a bugle, sat down in a tent; but though the
+fare provided was better than Bessie was accustomed to, even on a Sunday,
+yet this spirit of discontent had so possessed her that it was only because she
+was very hungry that she ate what was given her, all the time wondering what
+the people who lived at the great house were eating for their dinner, and thinking
+over and over again, &ldquo;<em>If</em> I had the chickens and other good things which
+they are sure to have, I should like it much better than this mutton and cherry
+pie.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Oh, Bessie, Bessie! when you are older and know more of the world, you
+will discover that living in a grand house and having good things to eat do
+not make people happier; they in their turn may be as discontented as you
+are, and be always wishing they had something else which does not belong to
+them, and that word &ldquo;<em>if</em>&rdquo; may be as frequently in <em>their</em> mouths as in <em>yours</em>.</p>
+
+<p>But now the dinner is over, and the merry troop have dispersed again&mdash;the
+boys eager to return to their game of cricket, and the girls to haymaking and
+swinging under the trees or other modes of spending the hours of this pleasant
+day; and judging by the laughter and shouts of joy, all are as happy as it is
+possible to be&mdash;indeed, it is a surprise to many when the bugle calls them once
+more together for tea, and they find that even a summer&rsquo;s day must come to an
+end at last, and that within two hours they will all be starting once more on
+their homeward journey. Very quickly did most of the children drink up the
+fragrant tea and the delicious milk, for they wanted to have a last look at the
+places where they had spent the day and picked wild flowers or made hay.
+Bessie was among the foremost of these; for now that she was going away so
+soon from it, she grew yet more discontented, and that little word &ldquo;<em>if</em>&rdquo; was
+used more than ever as she went about, not, as the others did, just to say good-bye
+to the fields and woods, but to look at them again and wish they were
+hers.</p>
+
+<p>I need not stop to tell you of the evening journey, for it was like the morning
+one, excepting that now the hopes of a pleasant day had been fulfilled, and
+the children talked of what they had done, instead of what they intended to
+do. Bessie Green wondered, as she heard them talking, how it was that they
+all seemed so much happier than she did, and how it was that the longed-for
+holiday had not been altogether a day of enjoyment. When she arrived at
+home, she had very little to say about what she had done or seen; but as she
+has since then been more contented, we must suppose that her wondering has
+had some effect, and that she is beginning to see what made the day so different
+to her and to her companions; in which case we may hope that the next
+time she goes into the country she will not spoil her holiday by the too frequent
+use of the word &ldquo;<em>if</em>.&rdquo;</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_180" id="Page_180">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>180]</a></span></p>
+
+<h2>THE FORCED RABBIT.</h2>
+
+<p class="center">A FUNNY FACT TOLD IN VERSE.</p>
+
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p class="cap">YOU have heard of forced potatoes, have you not, dear little folks?<br />
+<span class="i3">Of melons forced, and cucumbers, and grapes in purple cloaks?<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But I have seen, and handled, too&mdash;and oh, the sight was funny!&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">A rabbit forced, a tiny one, a snow-white little Bunny.<br /></span></p>
+</div>
+
+<div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Two little girls of ten and twelve&mdash;I love them very much&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Once thought a tenant they would like for their new rabbit-hutch,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">So off to town they drove one day, and there a rabbit bought,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And home the furry tenant in their pony-carriage brought.<br /></span>
+</div>
+
+<div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">They petted, nursed and fondled it, and showed it every care,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And said before it went to bed its sheets of straw they&rsquo;d air;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">They also begged it very hard itself at home to make,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And hoped, although its bed was strange, it would not lie awake.<br /></span>
+</div>
+
+<div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">How happy was this Bunny white I really cannot tell,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But certainly it happy looked, and was extremely well;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Its eyes were bright, its nose was cool, its tongue a lovely pink.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And for its pulse&mdash;well, that was strong and regular, I think.<br /></span>
+</div>
+
+<div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">When summer came, the little girls were taken to the sea,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And left their rabbit with the groom&mdash;a youth of twenty-three.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">They bathed and dug upon the shore, and played with Cousin Jack;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">They heard the band upon the sand, and rode on donkey-back.<br /></span>
+</div>
+
+<div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Then home they came, and went at once to see their Bunny dear,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To stroke his ribs, and pat his head, and feel each wiry ear;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But oh! alas! they found him not&mdash;the rabbit was not there!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">His hutch, like Mrs. Hubbard&rsquo;s shelf, was very, very bare.<br /></span>
+</div>
+
+<div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Now, where is he? They called the groom, the youth of twenty-three,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And said, &ldquo;Oh, George, where&rsquo;s Bunny gone? Oh where, oh where is he?&rdquo;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">&ldquo;He&rsquo;s in the hot-house,&rdquo; George replied; &ldquo;the gardener put him there,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">For he was growing thinner, miss, and losing all his hair.&rdquo;<br /></span>
+</div>
+
+<div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">They trotted to the garden then, and there the Bunny found,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And &rsquo;neath a vine beheld their pet reposing on the ground.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">&ldquo;Why, what is that?&rdquo; they both exclaimed; &ldquo;can that a rabbit be?<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">I never in my life before so strange a thing did see!&rdquo;<br /></span>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_181" id="Page_181">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>181]</a></span></p>
+
+<div class="figcenter ipadtop" style="width: 438px;">
+<img src="images/hd071.jpg" width="438" height="600"
+alt="Two girls feed nuts to a squirrel" />
+</div>
+
+<p class="caption">THE RABBIT.</p>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_182" id="Page_182">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>182]</a></span><span class="i0">They were surprised, and certainly the sight was strange to view,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">For Bunny looked so very huge, and such a bundle too!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Such fat he had, and lots of hair, they longed a bit to pull;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">He was exactly like a ball of living cotton-wool.<br /></span>
+</div>
+
+<div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">No tailor ever did produce a coat so superfine,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">&rsquo;Twas white as snow, and very thick on stomach, chest and spine&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">As thick as heads of stupid boys with countenances glum;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And oh! the hair was very long&mdash;as long as any sum!<br /></span>
+</div>
+
+<div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">A host of friends and neighbors came the funny sight to see,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To one and all a rabbit forced was quite a novelty;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And everybody petted him, and loved him very much,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And brought him goody-goodies for the larder in his hutch.<br /></span>
+</div>
+
+<div class="stanza">
+<span class="i4"> * <span class="space">&nbsp;</span> * <span class="space">&nbsp;</span> * <span class="space">&nbsp;</span> * <span class="space">&nbsp;</span> *<br /></span>
+</div>
+
+<div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">One day&mdash;and now my pen and ink the deepest mourning wear&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">They let him out upon the lawn for exercise and air;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">They turned their backs, two dogs rushed up, and one, with swelling chest,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Seized Bunny by his woolly throat, and&mdash;you must guess the rest.<br /></span>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+
+<h2><a name="Page_182lower" id="Page_182lower"></a>UP AND DOING.</h2>
+
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p class="cap">BOYS, be up and doing,<br />
+<span class="i3">For the day&rsquo;s begun;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Soon will come the noontide,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Then the set of sun;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">At your tasks toil bravely<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Till your work is done.<br /></span></p>
+</div>
+
+<div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Let your hands be busy<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">In some useful way;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Don&rsquo;t neglect your study,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Don&rsquo;t forget your play;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">There is time enough for each<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Every blessed day.<br /></span>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_183" id="Page_183">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>183]</a></span></p>
+
+<h2>A DARING FEAT.</h2>
+
+
+<p><span class="dropcap">R</span>EMARKABLE for its spire, the
+loftiest of St. Petersburg, is the
+church of St. Peter and St. Paul. An
+anecdote connected with this church, and
+not known, I believe, out of Russia, is
+worth telling. The spire, which rises</p>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">&ldquo;Lofty, and light, and small,&rdquo;<br /></span>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<p>and is probably represented in an engraving
+as fading away almost into a point in
+the sky, is, in reality, terminated by a
+globe of considerable dimensions, on
+which an angel stands, supporting a large
+cross. This angel was out of repair; and
+some suspicions were entertained that he
+designed visiting, uninvoked, the surface
+of the earth. The affair caused some
+uneasiness, and the government at length
+became greatly perplexed. To raise a
+scaffolding to such a height would cost a
+large sum of money; and in meditating
+fruitlessly on this circumstance, without
+knowing how to act, some time was suffered
+to elapse.</p>
+
+<p>Among the crowd of gazers below, who
+daily turned their eyes and their thoughts
+towards the angel, was a mujik called
+Telouchkine. This man was a roofer of
+houses (a slater, as he would be called in
+countries where slates were used); and
+his speculations by degrees assumed a
+more practical character than the idle
+wonders and conjectures of the rest of the
+crowd. The spire was entirely covered
+with sheets of gilded copper, and presented
+to the eye a surface as smooth as
+if it had been one mass of burnished gold.
+But Telouchkine knew that the sheets of
+copper were not even uniformly closed
+upon each other, and, above all, that there
+were large nails used to fasten them, which
+projected from the side of the spire.</p>
+
+<p>Having thought on these circumstances
+till his mind was made up, Telouchkine
+went to the government and offered to
+repair the angel without scaffolding, and
+without assistance, on condition of being
+reasonably paid for the time expended in
+the labor. The offer was accepted.</p>
+
+<p>The day fixed for the adventure arrives.
+Telouchkine, provided with nothing more
+than a coil of ropes, ascends the spire in
+the interior to the last window. Here he
+looks down at the concourse of the people
+below, and up at the glittering &ldquo;needle,&rdquo;
+as it is called, tapering far above his head.
+But his heart does not fail him; and stepping
+gravely out upon the window, he
+sets about his task.</p>
+
+<p>He cuts a portion of the cord in the
+form of two large stirrups, with a loop at
+each end. The upper loops he fastens
+upon two of the projecting nails above his
+head, and places his foot in the others.
+Then digging the fingers of one hand into
+the interstices of the sheets of copper, he
+raises one of the stirrups with the other
+hand, so as to make it catch a nail higher
+up. The same operation he performs on
+behalf of the other leg, and so on alternately.
+And thus he climbs, nail by nail,
+step by step, and stirrup by stirrup, till
+his starting-point is undistinguished from
+the golden surface, and the spire dwindles
+in his embrace till he can clasp it all
+round.</p>
+
+<p>So far, so well. But he now reaches
+the ball&mdash;a globe of between nine and
+ten feet in circumference. The angel,
+the object of this visit, is above this ball,
+and concealed from his view by its smooth,
+round, and glittering expanse. Only fancy
+the wretch at this moment, turning up
+his grave eyes, and graver beard, to an
+obstacle that seems to defy the daring and
+intrepidity of man!</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_184" id="Page_184">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>184]</a></span></p>
+
+<div class="figcenter ipadtop" style="width: 406px;">
+<img src="images/hd072.jpg" width="406" height="600"
+alt="A boy sits on a rock, looking out to sea" />
+</div>
+
+<p class="caption">THE SEA.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_185" id="Page_185">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>185]</a></span>
+But Telouchkine is not dismayed. He
+is prepared for the difficulty; and the
+means he used to surmount it exhibits
+the same remarkable simplicity as the
+rest of the feat.</p>
+
+<p>Suspending himself in his stirrups, he
+girds the &ldquo;needle&rdquo; with a cord, the ends
+of which he fastens around his waist;
+and so supported, he leans gradually back,
+till the soles of his feet are planted against
+the spire. In this position, he throws, by
+a strong effort, a coil of cord over the
+ball; and so coolly and accurately is the
+aim taken, that at the first trial it falls in
+the required direction, and he sees the
+end hang down on the opposite side.</p>
+
+<p>To draw himself into his original position,
+to fasten the cord firmly around the
+globe, and with the assistance of this
+auxiliary to climb to the summit, is now
+an easy part of his task; and in a few
+minutes more Telouchkine stands by the
+side of the angel, and listens to the shout
+that bursts like sudden thunder from the
+concourse below, yet comes to his ear
+only like a faint and hollow murmur.</p>
+
+<p>The cord, which he had an opportunity
+of fastening properly, enabled him to descend
+with comparative facility; and the
+next day he carried up with him a ladder
+of ropes, by means of which he found it
+easy to effect the necessary repairs.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+
+<h2><a name="Page_185lower" id="Page_185lower"></a>THE WORLD.</h2>
+
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p class="cap">GREAT, wide, beautiful, wonderful world,<br />
+<span class="i3">With the wonderful water around you curled,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And the wonderful grass on your breast&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">World, you are beautifully dressed.<br /></span></p>
+</div>
+
+<div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">The wonderful air is over me,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And the wonderful wind is shaking the tree;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">It walks on the water, and whirls the mills,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And talks to itself on the tops of the hills.<br /></span>
+</div>
+
+<div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">You friendly Earth, how far do you go,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">With the wheat-fields that nod, and the rivers that flow,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">With cities, and gardens, and cliffs, and isles,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And people upon you for thousands of miles?<br /></span>
+</div>
+
+<div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Ah, you are so great, and I am so small,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">I tremble to think of you, World, at all!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And yet, when I said my prayers to-day,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">A whisper inside me seemed to say,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">&ldquo;You are more than the Earth, though you are such a dot;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">You can love and think, and the Earth cannot!&rdquo;<br /></span>
+</div>
+
+<p class="poet"><i>Lilliput Lectures.</i></p>
+</div>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_186" id="Page_186">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>186]</a></span></p>
+<h2>C&mdash;A&mdash;T.</h2>
+
+<p class="center">FOR THE VERY LITTLE ONES.</p>
+
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p class="cap">BE quiet, good Tabby!<br />
+<span class="i3">See how still you can be,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">For I&rsquo;m going to teach you<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">To spell C&mdash;A&mdash;T.<br /></span></p>
+</div>
+
+<div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">I&rsquo;ll show you the way<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Mother reads it to me:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">She looks very sober,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And says C&mdash;A&mdash;T.<br /></span>
+</div>
+
+<div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Fred says you can&rsquo;t learn,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">But we&rsquo;ll show him that we<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Can learn, if we please,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">To spell C&mdash;A&mdash;T.<br /></span>
+</div>
+
+<div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">To what little May said<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Tabby did not agree,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And I doubt if she learned<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">To spell C&mdash;A&mdash;T.<br /></span>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_187" id="Page_187">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>187]</a></span></p>
+
+<div class="figcenter ipadtop" style="width: 418px;">
+<img src="images/hd073.jpg" width="418" height="600"
+alt="May practises her spelling with Tabby beside her" />
+</div>
+
+<p class="caption">C&mdash;A&mdash;T.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_188" id="Page_188">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>188]</a></span></p>
+
+<h2>THE GIRAFFE.</h2>
+
+
+<p><span class="dropcap">T</span>HE creature which forms the subject
+of this paper is the giraffe, or camelopard
+(<i>Camelopardalis Giraffa</i>) noted
+for its wonderful and beautiful form and
+its remarkable habits.</p>
+
+<p>At the first sight of a giraffe, the spectator
+is struck by its enormously long
+neck, and will naturally ask himself how
+it is supported, and how its mobility is
+preserved. Every one who has the least
+acquaintance with anatomy is aware that
+a strong and very elastic ligament passes
+down the back of the neck, and acts as a
+strap by which the head is preserved from
+falling forward. In the giraffe this ligament
+(popularly called the paxwax) is of
+great length and thickness, and is divided
+into longitudinal halves, and proceeds,
+not only down the entire neck, but along
+the back, nearly to the tail. So powerful
+a band requires correspondingly large attachments;
+and accordingly we find that
+the vertebr&aelig; of the shoulders send out
+enormously long perpendicular processes,
+which give to the shoulder that height
+which is so eminent a characteristic of
+the animal. To these processes the ligament
+of the neck is fastened by accessory
+bands, which add both to its strength and
+elasticity.</p>
+
+<p>The natives of Southern Africa make
+great use of this ligament, which is carefully
+removed and dried. When the native
+wishes to make a kaross, or any other
+article of apparel, he soaks a piece of the
+ligament in water, and then beats it with
+a stone. This treatment causes it to split
+into filaments, which can be worked to
+almost any degree of fineness, and with
+these the native sews his leathern dress.
+I have now before me a piece of this
+Kaffir thread, as it is called. In its dry
+state, it is shrivelled and contracted, and
+no one who was not acquainted with it
+could guess the purpose to which it was
+originally devoted.</p>
+
+<p>Although the neck of the giraffe is
+so enormously long, it only consists of
+seven vertebr&aelig;, as is indeed the rule
+throughout the mammalia. It seems very
+remarkable that in the neck of the elephant
+and of the giraffe there should be
+precisely the same number of vertebr&aelig;.
+Such, however, is the case, and the difference
+in length is caused by the great
+length of those bones in the giraffe, and
+their shortness and flatness in the elephant.</p>
+
+<p>The giraffe is a swift animal, and even
+upon level ground will put a horse to its
+utmost mettle; but on rough and rocky
+ground, especially if the chase be directed
+up hill, the horse has no chance against
+the giraffe, which can hop over the stones
+with the agility of the goat, and even leap
+ravines which no horse will dare to face.
+So energetic is the animal when chased,
+and so violently is the tail switched from
+side to side, that the long, stiff hairs hiss
+sharply as they pass through the air.</p>
+
+<p>Sometimes, but very rarely, the giraffe
+will miss its footing and fall to the ground;
+but it recovers itself immediately, and is
+on its feet before much advantage can be
+taken of the mishap. When it lies down
+intentionally, it is obliged to pack up its
+legs in a manner which seems extremely
+awkward, although the animal can lie or
+rise with perfect ease; and, like the
+camel, it possesses callosities upon the
+knees and breast, on which it rests while
+reposing.</p>
+
+<p>The height of the giraffe is rather variable,
+but on an average is from twelve to
+eighteen feet.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_189" id="Page_189">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>189]</a></span></p>
+
+<div class="figcenter ipadtop" style="width: 393px;">
+<img src="images/hd074.jpg" width="393" height="600" alt="" />
+</div>
+
+<p class="caption">THE GIRAFFE.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_190" id="Page_190">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>190]</a></span></p>
+
+<h2>THE LION ON THE THRESHOLD.</h2>
+
+
+<p><span class="dropcap">A</span>T Rietriverspoort, South Africa,
+writes Lichtenstein, we came to
+the dwelling of a farmer named Van
+Wyk. Whilst we were resting our tired
+oxen, and enjoying the cool shade of the
+porch, Van Wyk told us the following
+story:&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;It was something more than two
+years ago that here, in this spot where
+we are standing, I had to make a daring
+shot. My wife was sitting in the house
+near the door, the children were playing
+about, and I was busy doing something
+to my wagon on the other side of the
+house, when suddenly what should we
+see, on the doorstep, but the shadow of a
+great lion darkening the bright daylight.
+My wife, quite stunned with terror, and
+knowing also how dangerous it often is to
+try and run away in such cases, remained
+in her place, while the children took refuge
+upon her lap. Their cries made me
+aware of something having happened;
+and my astonishment and consternation
+may be imagined when I discovered what
+guest was blocking up my entrance to my
+own house.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;The lion had not as yet seen me: but
+how was I, unarmed as I was, to defend
+my family? Involuntarily I moved along
+the side of the house towards the window,
+which was open; and, most happily for
+me, I saw, standing in a corner of the
+room near the window, a loaded gun. I
+was able to reach it with my hand, though
+the window, as you see, is too small for
+any one to get through. Still more providential
+was it that the room door happened
+to be open, so that I could see the
+whole terrible scene through the window.
+The lion had got into the house, and was
+looking steadfastly at my wife and children.
+He made a movement, and seemed
+about to spring upon them, when, feeling
+that there was no longer any time to
+waste in deliberating what was to be done,
+I uttered a few encouraging words to my
+wife, and with God&rsquo;s help, shot right across
+the room into the passage, where I struck
+the lion in the head, so that he could not
+move again. The ball had passed close
+to the hair of my little boy.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<div class="figcenter ipadtop" style="width: 600px;">
+<img src="images/hd075.jpg" width="600" height="457" alt="" />
+</div>
+
+<p class="caption">THE LION.</p>
+
+<p>The same writer, Lichtenstein, says
+that the lion, like a cat, takes its prey by
+springing upon it, and never attacks a
+man or animal which does not attempt to
+run away from him without first placing
+himself at a distance of ten or twelve
+paces off, and measuring his spring. This
+habit of the lion has been turned to account
+by hunters, who make it their practice
+never to fire at a lion until he has so
+placed himself: long practice enabling
+them to know exactly where and when to
+hit it with effect while the animal is preparing
+for his spring. If any one is so
+unfortunate as to meet a lion unarmed,
+the only hope of escape is presence of
+mind. To run away is certain destruction;
+if a man has the coolness to remain
+standing where he is, the lion will not attack
+him. He will not attempt the spring
+if the man stands motionless as a statue,
+and looks quietly into his eyes. The
+erect figure of the human species of itself
+alarms the lion, and when, in addition to
+this, he sees his antagonist calm and
+unmoved, the feeling of awe is increased.
+A sudden gesture, indicative of alarm,
+will of course disturb this impression;
+but if the man continues to show self-possession,
+the lion will at last be as afraid
+of the man as the man of the lion. After
+a time he slowly raises himself, looks
+carefully round, retreats a few steps, lies
+down again, makes a further retreat, and
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_191" id="Page_191"><!-- Illustration - THE LION --></a></span>
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_192" id="Page_192">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>192]</a></span>
+ends by taking a rapid flight, as if his
+desire were to get as far out of the presence
+of the human species as he possibly
+can. Indeed, we are told by the settlers
+at the Cape, that it is not likely that the
+experiment has been very often made.
+Formerly, when there were more lions to
+be seen there than at present, and when, at
+the same time, the settlers were inexperienced
+in lion-hunting, large numbers
+of hunters used to go in chase of the
+lion, whom they would endeavor to entice
+into the plain, and round whom they used
+to form a circle. They shot at him first
+from one side and then from another,
+and if the poor animal tried to break
+through the left side of the human wall,
+they would attack him from the right.
+At present, however, experienced
+lion-hunters generally prefer going alone after
+their dangerous prey, and sometimes pursue
+him to his den. Such species of
+sport is always dangerous, however, and
+is often attended with fatal results. We
+have heard from a reliable source that in
+many sports among the mountains near
+the Elephant River, lions are to be seen
+in such large numbers, that on one occasion
+our informant saw as many as three
+and twenty together. Most of them were
+young, and only eight quite full grown.
+He had just loosened his oxen on an
+open place, and took the rather cowardly
+than humane course of escaping to the
+tents of some Hottentots, and leaving
+his oxen to the mercy of the lions, without
+firing a shot.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+
+<h2><a name="Page_192lower" id="Page_192lower"></a>THE SNOW-MAN.</h2>
+
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p class="cap">LOOK! how the clouds are flying south!<br />
+<span class="i3">The wind pipes loud and shrill!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And high above the white drifts stands<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">The snow-man on the hill.<br /></span></p>
+</div>
+
+<div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Blow, wild wind from the icy north!<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Here&rsquo;s one who will not fear<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To feel thy coldest touch, or shrink<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Thy loudest blast to hear!<br /></span>
+</div>
+
+<div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Proud triumph of the school-boy&rsquo;s skill!<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Far rather would I be<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">A winter giant, ruling o&rsquo;er<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">A frosty realm, like thee,<br /></span>
+</div>
+
+<div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">And stand amidst the drifted snow,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Like thee, a thing apart,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Than be a man who walks with men,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">But has a frozen heart!<br /></span>
+</div>
+
+<p class="poet smcap">Marian Douglas.</p>
+</div>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_193" id="Page_193">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>193]</a></span></p>
+
+<div class="figcenter ipadtop" style="width: 440px;">
+<img src="images/hd076.jpg" width="440" height="600"
+alt="Two boys build a snowman" />
+</div>
+
+<p class="caption">THE SNOW-MAN.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_194" id="Page_194">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>194]</a></span></p>
+
+<div class="figcenter ipadboth" style="width: 400px;">
+<img src="images/hd077.jpg" width="400" height="398"
+alt="A pair of barn swallows bring food to their nestling" />
+</div>
+
+<h2>BARN SWALLOWS.</h2>
+
+
+<p><span class="dropcap">W</span>HEN I was a youngster,&mdash;and
+that, let me tell you, young
+friends, was some time ago,&mdash;they used
+to say that swallows lived in the mud all
+winter, as the eels do. The books made
+no such stupid blunder; only the ignorant
+people, such as never seem to use
+their eyes or their reason. It was one of
+the popular errors of the time. Silly as
+the notion seems, it has been held by a
+great many respectable persons.</p>
+
+<p>Possibly the error may have arisen from
+the fact that the moment the swallows
+appear in any locality, in the spring of the
+year, they immediately search out some
+muddy place, where they can get materials
+for their nests. First they carry a
+mouthful of mud, then some threads of
+dry hay or straw, then more mud, and
+so on. These frequent visits to a marshy
+locality might readily lead an unobserving
+person to imagine that the birds came
+from the muddy recesses in the banks.
+But, of course, they are on a very different
+errand.</p>
+
+<p>Having commenced their nests, the
+swallows rest during the warmest part of
+the day, so that the sun may dry their
+work, and make it hard and strong.
+Then more mud is plastered on&mdash;more
+threads of straw; and so the industrious
+birds continue until the body of the nest
+is completed. A nice, soft lining of fine
+grass or hair finishes the whole, and
+makes a summer home for both birds
+and their young.</p>
+
+<p>Unlike most other birds, swallows
+often repair old nests, if the frosts and
+storms of winter have injured them, as
+they generally do; and sometimes the
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_195" id="Page_195">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>195]</a></span>
+birds come back to the same locality for
+several years. They select some unexposed
+corner, under the eaves of a barn
+or house, if possible pretty high from the
+ground, and in a very few days the entire
+dwelling, lining and all, will be completed.</p>
+
+<p>If unmolested, barn swallows will form
+quite a colony in the space of a few years.
+But, if their nests are injured or torn
+down, or their young ones are stolen
+away or disturbed, the birds forsake the
+locality forever. Where a number of
+families live together, their chattering,
+when, as the evening comes on, they are
+catching gnats and flies for supper, or
+feeding their young ones, is very pleasant
+and diverting. And there is music in
+their language, too&mdash;music which a
+thoughtful person is ever glad to hear.</p>
+
+<p>Last summer, when business was dull,
+I went on a vacation, away up into the
+Granite State. While passing through
+the town of Unity (my little niece insists
+upon calling it <em>Utiny</em>&mdash;but she will
+speak plainer one of these years), my
+attention was called to a small village
+church on the wayside. Around the
+entire building, under the eaves, were
+brackets, some three inches in width, and
+perhaps as far apart. In the spaces thus
+formed were hundreds upon hundreds of
+swallows&rsquo; nests. Hardly a single space
+was left unoccupied, while many contained
+two, and sometimes three nests.
+Not content with the eaves, the colony
+had commenced upon the belfry, and far
+up towards the spire every possible nook
+and corner seemed to be spoken for.</p>
+
+<p>I stopped to contemplate the very interesting
+spectacle. A villager informed
+me that the colony came regularly every
+year, and, as near as could be judged,
+the same birds; that for ten years the
+birds had been petted by the inhabitants,
+and protected by all, old and young. He
+said that the swallows had all disappeared
+in a body, about a week previous to my
+visit, adding, &ldquo;You don&rsquo;t know what a
+lovely spectacle it is to witness the evolutions
+of these birds on a summer evening,
+when they are teaching their young ones
+to fly. They swarm around the building
+like bees, and their music is most delightful
+to hear.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>I could readily imagine the beauty of
+the scene, from the great number of
+nests, though I mean to see the colony
+at their devotions this year. &ldquo;Yea, the
+sparrow hath found a house, and the
+swallow a nest for herself, where she may
+lay her young, <em>even thine altars</em>, O Lord
+of hosts, my King and my God.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>It would be interesting to know where
+these birds go as winter approaches. It
+is very easy, and perhaps very true, to
+say that they &ldquo;go south.&rdquo; But to what
+part of the south? Do they keep in a
+body there, as here? Do they have nests,
+and rear their young, there, as with us?
+There is a fine field for inquiry, which it
+is hoped some of our boys will go into
+by and by. For the present, if any of
+them are passing through Unity, let them
+remember the church which has its
+largest congregation on the outside.</p>
+
+<p class="sig smcap">W. Wander.</p>
+
+<div class="figcenter ipadboth" style="width: 150px;">
+<img src="images/hd078.png" width="150" height="14"
+alt="Decoration" />
+</div>
+
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_196" id="Page_196">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>196]</a></span></p>
+
+<h2>GRATITUDE OF A COW.</h2>
+
+
+<p><span class="dropcap">A</span> GENTLEMAN passing through a field observed a cow showing many
+symptoms of uneasiness, stamping with her feet and looking earnestly
+at him. At first he feared to approach her, but afterward went toward her,
+which seemed to please her much. She then guided him to a ditch where her
+calf was lying helpless; and he was just in time to save it from death, to the
+no small delight of the cow. Some days after, when passing through the same
+field, the cow came up to him as if to thank him for his kindness. As among
+the various animals with which the earth abounds none is more necessary to
+the existence of man than the cow, so likewise none appears to be more extensively
+propagated; in every part of the world it is found, large or small,
+according to the quantity and quality of its food. There is no part of Europe
+where it grows to so large a size as in England, whose pastures are admirably
+suited to its nature. The quantity of milk and butter varies according to the
+difference of its pasture; some cows in favorable situations yield twenty
+quarts of milk in a day.</p>
+
+<p>To form a just idea of the value of this animal, we ought to consider that
+there is scarcely any part of it without its utility to man. The skin is manufactured
+into leather; the hair, mixed with lime, is used in plastering walls
+and building houses; the bones serve as a substitute for ivory; when calcined,
+they are used by the refiners of silver to separate the baser metals; and when
+ground and spread over the fields, they form a fertilizing manure. Combs,
+knife-handles and many useful articles are made from the horns, which, when
+softened in boiling water, become pliable, so as to be formed into lanterns&mdash;an
+invention usually ascribed to King Alfred. We are furnished with candles
+from the tallow, and the feet afford an oil adapted to a variety of purposes.
+Glue is made from the cartilages, gristles and parings of the hide boiled in
+water; calves&rsquo; skins are manufactured into vellum; saddlers and others use a
+fine thread prepared from the sinews, which is much stronger than any other
+equally fine. The blood, gall, etc., are used in many important manufactures.</p>
+
+<div class="figcenter ipadtop" style="width: 418px;">
+<img src="images/hd079.jpg" width="418" height="600" alt="" />
+</div>
+
+<p class="caption">THE COW AND HER CALF.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+
+<h2>MINUTES.</h2>
+
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p class="cap">WE are but minutes&mdash;little things!<br />
+<span class="i4">Each one furnished with sixty wings,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">With which we fly on our unseen track,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And not a minute ever comes back.<br /></span></p>
+</div>
+
+<div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">We are but minutes; use, use us well,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">For how we are used we must one day tell.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Who uses minutes has hours to use;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Who loses minutes whole years must lose.<br /></span>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_197" id="Page_197"><!-- Illustration - THE COW AND HER CALF --></a></span></p>
+
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_198" id="Page_198">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>198]</a></span></p>
+
+<div class="figcenter ipadboth" style="width: 458px;">
+<img src="images/hd080.jpg" width="458" height="400"
+alt="Uncle Godfrey wades through snow, two horses and a dingo nearby" />
+</div>
+
+<h2>GOING FOR THE LETTERS.</h2>
+
+<p class="center">AN AUSTRALIAN STORY.</p>
+
+
+<p><span class="dropcap">I</span>T was a bitter cold day in the end of
+the month of January. The morning
+had been a very unpleasant one&mdash;neither
+frost nor snow, a sort of compound of
+rain and sleet; but now the snow was
+falling fast, and the clear crystals were
+fast hiding every shrub and plant that had
+a place in the beautiful flower garden, in
+front of the drawing-room windows of
+Arundel Manor, while inside a roaring
+fire, that made the handsomely-furnished
+apartment look even more than usually
+snug and comfortable, was surrounded by
+a family party consisting of Mrs. St. Clair,
+the three children, and uncle Godfrey.</p>
+
+<p>It was the &ldquo;children&rsquo;s hour,&rdquo; and his
+niece was trying to coax a tale out of
+&ldquo;dear uncle,&rdquo; who did not seem much in
+the humor to comply with her request,
+when mamma looked up and said, &ldquo;My
+dear, do not trouble your uncle so. I am
+sure, Godfrey, that Lydia must torment
+you; and if she does, we must send her
+to the nursery.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Poor Lydia&rsquo;s face fell at once. &ldquo;I am
+sure I did not mean to tease uncle.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Never mind, my pet; I know I promised
+to tell you a story to-night, and was
+just thinking what it was to be, when my
+fit of musing sent memory back many a
+long day, and revealed a scene distant
+many a thousand miles. Now that I am
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_199" id="Page_199">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>199]</a></span>
+fairly awake, I will show you the picture
+of my waking dream. So up you jump;&rdquo;
+and Lydia, catching hold of his hand,
+was quickly seated on her uncle&rsquo;s knee,
+her usual place at story time, and throwing
+her arms round his neck, exclaimed,&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;O, you dear old pet!&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I heard,&rdquo; began uncle Godfrey, &ldquo;some
+boys, who shall be nameless, grumbling
+this morning at being kept inside, for fear
+of catching cold on such a raw day, and
+my thoughts instantly turned to a day
+similar to this, and how I then prayed to
+be under the shelter of some friendly
+roof; and I also thought how thankful
+every one ought to be who is able to sit
+at a warm fire, when it freezes hard, or
+when the snow is covering the earth by
+inches every hour.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I dare say you think it fine fun to run
+over to the lodge and bring the letters
+from the post-boy; at least I did when as
+young as you are; but going for letters is
+not always the pleasantest thing imaginable,
+as I once nearly found out to my
+cost.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;If you are all so anxious to hear the
+contents of letters from your uncle Wilfred,
+you may fancy how eagerly he and I
+used to watch for the arrivals of the mails
+at Sydney, and be sure that one or both
+of us were certain to be at the office in
+Kiandra on the day it reached there, and
+with what delight we read and re-read the
+letter which never failed to make its appearance
+monthly to one or other of us.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Our winter fall of snow generally began
+about the 12th of May, and from that
+date till the month of October it was a
+matter of no small difficulty to get our
+letters at the place where we lived, a long
+nine miles from Kiandra of a very mountainous
+track.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;186- was an extraordinary season.
+May passed, no snow&mdash;June the same,
+only heavy, I may say, nearly constant
+showers of rain. &lsquo;A glorious year,&rsquo; the
+diggers called it. &lsquo;Never such a season
+for work since the diggings broke out.
+Two months&rsquo; work at a time when there
+is never any water. O, what a wash-up
+there will be in November!&rsquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Such was the substance of the conversation
+when any two of the residents
+met, varied, perhaps, by remarks as to
+whether old So-and-so, who had been
+twenty years in the district, would be
+right in saying there was to be nine feet
+of snow, or whether So-and-so was a better
+judge in saying we were to have none
+at all?</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I was then living by myself, Wilfred
+being away in Sydney, and was looking
+out for him every day, and hoping he
+might be back before the winter fairly set
+in, when it was scarcely possible to travel.
+As I said before, June had passed, and
+we were getting well into July, when I
+heard that our English mail would be in
+Kiandra on the following Wednesday.
+It was now Friday.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;We had got a fine week for work,
+raining gently all the time, which is what
+we diggers like, and no frost, which
+dries up the water, and makes us all idle,
+when on Sunday the weather completely
+changed, and very suddenly, too, as, indeed,
+it always did there. The wind,
+which had been from north or east, without
+any warning chopped right round to
+the south-west, and we had a strong frost.
+Next day was cloudy, but at night frost
+was harder than ever, and everything with
+liquid in it, even to the tea-pot in a room
+where there was a fire nearly all night, was
+full of solid ice.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;The thermometer was down to 18&deg;
+below zero in the same place; and in bed,
+in the next room, with four pairs of new
+blankets, I thought I should have been
+fairly frozen. We were hard at work all
+that day, which was a drizzly, snowy one,
+everything betokening a fall of snow; so,
+when Wednesday dawned, though not so
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_200" id="Page_200">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>200]</a></span>
+deep as I expected, I was not surprised to
+find more than a foot of it all over.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Down the country the floods had been
+dreadful; nearly all the bridges had been
+washed away, and the roads turned into
+bogs, so that our mails came in very irregularly,
+sometimes ten days behind time.
+You may therefore imagine I was in a
+great worry to hear from Wilfred, my last
+letter being a month old, as well as anxious
+for <em>home</em> news. So I donned my
+oil-skin over my blanket-coat, put on my
+thigh gum-boots, tied my comforter round
+my neck and up over my ears, and pulling
+my south-wester on, prepared to face
+the weather.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I found the walk into town, though
+very heavy, not so bad as I expected, and
+arrived safely, without any mishaps, but
+rather tired and uncomfortably moist, it
+being a sort of drizzle all the way; but a
+letter from Wilfred, saying he would not
+leave for some time, and so would not be
+caught in this storm, and the perusal of
+a kind one from &lsquo;the old country&rsquo; soon
+made me forget my discomfort, and I
+spent a pleasant evening at a friend&rsquo;s.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;At bed-time it was a beautiful starry
+night; but I did not altogether fancy it.
+There was a kind of half soft feel through
+the frost, that sounded to me like a change,
+and the thought of the morrow&rsquo;s walk was
+not a pleasant one; but there was no use
+forestalling what might never be. So to bed
+and to sleep; but ere my eyes were well
+closed, the wind began to whistle round
+the corner of the house, and&mdash;hallo&mdash;what&rsquo;s
+that! Big drops of rain, and
+lumps of earth and gravel, were pelting
+the panes of glass.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;A few minutes there was a lull&mdash;a
+dead silence&mdash;when flash! crash!&mdash;the
+room was in a blaze of light, and at the
+same instant the thunder made the very
+bed shake again, and also made my heart
+rise to my mouth. Listening earnestly
+for some time, and no further disturbances
+occurring, I began, after thanking a kind
+Providence for his protection, to think
+over the matter, and came to the conclusion
+that at last we were in for a downright
+fall, this being the third time that,
+to my knowledge, such had been preceded
+by a single clap of thunder.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Next day the snow came down in
+earnest; and as it was drifting in every
+direction, I took the advice of my friends,
+and quietly stopped where I was. Large,
+feathery flakes fell unceasingly all the afternoon,
+and by night there was fully two
+feet in the town; but as it looked a little
+better on Friday afternoon, and my dog,
+cat, and fowls could get nothing to eat
+until my return, I determined to make a
+start, though against the opinions of most
+of the town&rsquo;s people.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;When I left Kiandra there was a
+dense fog, which shortly changed, first to
+a light, and then to a heavy snow; and
+by the time I dragged myself the mile to
+the top of the mountain, it was coming
+down, and no mistake!</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;It was impossible to see one yard in
+any direction, and my legs were already
+beginning to <em>talk</em>; but it was too late to
+think of turning. I had had only to fight
+through one extra deep drift as yet, and
+knew the road hitherto well; but now I
+had to turn off from where the track lay hid,
+and had not gone far when my difficulties
+fairly began, and I was quickly ploughing
+my way through some five or six feet of
+snow.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Half an hour&rsquo;s hard work found me
+clear of that, and for a couple of miles
+everything went swimmingly. The snow
+was here firm enough to bear my weight,
+although now and again, bump! down I
+went through the crust, nearly jerking my
+joints out. The nearer home the deeper
+got the snow, and, of course, so much the
+more tired I felt. The main creek to be
+crossed was hidden entirely; and as its
+exact whereabouts was not very easily
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_201" id="Page_201">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>201]</a></span>
+guessed at, you may depend it was not a
+pleasant sensation to plump down and
+find myself up to the neck. Luckily, the
+water was no depth, and as my boots
+were tight and long, a hard scramble
+pulled me out of my first trouble.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;A short rest, and I was again on my
+way; but it took me a good many hours
+to get the next three or four miles, even
+though I met no more serious difficulty
+than some very heavy drifts. I was getting
+very tired, and hungry, too, and you
+may fancy it was no joke wading the snow,
+never less than two feet, lucky if not going
+past the knees at every step; but at last
+I was in a mess, and how to get out of it
+I knew not. The look of the country,
+when a lull gave me the chance of seeing,
+showed I was off my road; and when I
+felt I was lost, my thoughts were anything
+but satisfactory.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I knew not which way to turn, so sat
+down to think it over, and was looking
+around as well as the drifting snow would
+permit, when coming along my tracks
+was a large yellow dog. My heart gave a
+bound of delight, and jumping up, I let a
+&lsquo;cooey,&rsquo;<a name="FNanchor_A_1" id="FNanchor_A_1"></a><a href="#Footnote_A_1" class="fnanchor">[A]</a> to tell its master that some one
+was in the same predicament, as I doubted
+not he was.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Slowly a minute or two passed, but
+no reply to my communication. Alas!
+all was silence, and I then saw, by its
+pointed ears and bushy tail, that it was a
+dingo, or native dog, which was running
+my footsteps. It was no use sitting where
+I was. So on I started in the direction
+I fancied, every minute feeling more and
+more fagged, and when at last darkness
+set in, was almost inclined to give up.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;My yellow friend followed me for
+some time at a respectful distance; and
+though the dingo is a sneaking coward,
+still, had sleep overpowered me, he might
+have been tempted to try how I tasted, as
+he must have been hungry to come so
+close to me as he did. So, although I
+never had any fear of such an event actually
+occurring, I was not at all sorry
+when he trotted off, his tail, as usual, between
+his legs, to join some of his companions,
+whose unearthly howls he heard
+at no great distance; there must have
+been five or six.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I felt really glad they came no nearer,
+as a mob of them are very daring; and I
+have known them, when well starved for
+a week or two, kill calves, and even colts,
+when the mothers were weak and could
+not fight for them. But it was not very
+long before I found that they were not
+after me, as I nearly stumbled against a
+mare and colt belonging to myself, that
+were standing under a tree, and whinnied
+as I spoke. We had sent all our horses
+away two months ago but this one, as she
+could not be found, and we thought she
+was dead. The poor thing could not have
+tasted food for days; but what could I do
+but pity the pair, and feel that their end
+was to be food for the <i>warregals</i> (native
+dogs).</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;As I had now been walking seven or
+eight hours, and hard at it all the time, I
+could see nothing for it but to yield to
+necessity, as sleep was fast overpowering
+me, when I distinctly heard the bark of a
+dog, which I felt confident was my old
+watch, &lsquo;Jack.&rsquo; My spirits rose at once,
+and again I was alive, and pushed in the
+direction of the welcome sound.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;At the same time I caught a glimpse
+of a cluster of trees, whose peculiar shape
+I had often remarked, which told me where
+I was; and this fact was also quickly
+proved by my plunging into an old prospecting
+hole&mdash;the only one in the neighborhood.
+It was about six feet deep, and
+full of snow and water. I thought I was
+lost, as the frozen slush went down my
+back, and that I, who had been picked
+out of the Canton River, in a dark night,
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_202" id="Page_202">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>202]</a></span>
+when the tide ran six knots an hour, was
+fated to be drowned in a filthy pot-hole.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;But, luckily, such was not my lot on
+the present occasion, as, after many a failure,
+I managed to pull myself out, my
+boots full of water, and my whole body
+nearly numb from the cold. Luckily, the
+house was only half a mile off.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I reached it in safety, and just in time,
+as my feet were all but frost-bitten, when
+I should have been fortunate to lose only
+a few of my toes, as I knew a man here
+who had <em>both</em> legs cut off in consequence
+of a severe frost-bite.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;As it was, I was a sorry figure; my
+clothes were like a board, my socks were
+in a similar state, while icicles hung in
+festoons from my hair and beard. But,
+when at last I managed to open the door,
+and get a light, one or two rough towels,
+and some ten minutes&rsquo; hard rubbing, soon
+put a glow of heat over my whole body;
+and by the time I turned into bed, after a
+cup of scalding hot coffee (I was too hungry
+to eat), my misfortunes were forgotten,
+and all I felt was thankfulness for having
+reached my house, which seems to me,
+even now, to have been a very doubtful
+matter, had &lsquo;Jack&rsquo; not barked when he
+did.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;See how many things turned out all
+for my good&mdash;the mare and the colt in
+the snow, the dingo running after her
+through hunger, and my dog barking at it,
+showed me where my house was, when
+I was fairly lost, and thus saved my life,
+and enabled me to spin you this yarn,
+which I must now finish by saying that
+since that time I am always glad to have
+a warm house to shelter me in such
+weather as this, and cannot help thinking
+that if any boys had ever been placed in
+my predicament, they would only be too
+thankful to remain inside on such a day
+as this, without requiring their mother to
+order them to do so.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;But what about the poor mare? Did
+she die? and did the wild dogs eat the
+colt?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;O, I almost forgot to tell you that, to
+my astonishment, in two or three days,
+when the snow hardened a bit, the pair
+found their way home, and I, after a deal
+of trouble, got them to the banks of the Tumut
+River, which, although only a couple
+of miles away, was so many hundred feet
+lower, that they could paw away the snow,
+and so got grass enough to live till spring
+when they soon got fat. The little colt I
+named &lsquo;Snowdrop,&rsquo; and when she was old
+enough, broke her in; and many a good
+gallop we had over the place where she
+and her mother neighed to me on that
+dark and dismal night.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<div class="footnotes"><h3>FOOTNOTE:</h3>
+
+<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_A_1" id="Footnote_A_1"></a><a href="#FNanchor_A_1"><span class="label">[A]</span></a>
+A peculiar shout, heard at a great distance, which
+is common among the Australian settlers.</p></div>
+</div>
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+
+<h2><a name="Page_202lower" id="Page_202lower"></a>SPRING HAS COME.</h2>
+
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p class="cap">SPRING has come back to us, beautiful spring!<br />
+<span class="i3">Blue-birds and swallows are out on the wing;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Over the meadows a carpet of green<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Softer and richer than velvet is seen.<br /></span></p>
+</div>
+
+<div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Up come the blossoms so bright and so gay,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Giving sweet odors to welcome the May.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Sunshine and music are flooding the air,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Beauty and brightness are everywhere.<br /></span>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_203" id="Page_203">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>203]</a></span></p>
+
+<h2>ABOUT &ldquo;BITTERS.&rdquo;</h2>
+
+<div class="figcenter ipadboth" style="width: 500px;">
+<img src="images/hd081.jpg" width="500" height="132"
+alt="Bitters being chased by a rooster" />
+</div>
+
+
+<p><span class="dropcap">C</span>HARLEY and Jimmie D. were
+playing near the barn one day,
+when along came the forlornest looking
+cur you ever did see. The children commenced
+calling him, and laughed loudly
+as the animal came towards them, he was
+<em>such</em> an ill-looking thing.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Good fellow! nice fellow!&rdquo; said Charley,
+patting him. &ldquo;Jim, you run in, and
+get him something to eat&mdash;won&rsquo;t you?
+and don&rsquo;t tell mother yet; you know she
+dislikes dogs so. We&rsquo;ll tie him up to-night,
+and tell her to-morrow, if no one
+comes for him.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Such another looking dog I think I
+never saw&mdash;scrawny and poor, as though
+he had never been more than half fed;
+a slit in one ear, tail not much to speak
+of, and color a dirty black and white.</p>
+
+<p>Jimmie soon came back from a successful
+forage, and gave him a good supper.
+At least doggie seemed to think so, for
+he gobbled it up in about a minute, and
+then wagged the stump of his tail for
+more.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;No, sir,&rdquo; said Charley, &ldquo;no more to-night.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Then they shut him up in a little room
+in a corner of the barn, and ran to find
+their father, and tell him, well knowing
+he would not care, if their mother was
+willing.</p>
+
+<p>They found their father, who went with
+them to see him, and laughed long and
+loud as they led out the ugly beast.</p>
+
+<p>Then all went in to supper; the great
+secret almost revealing itself in their tell-tale
+looks and occasional whisperings,
+neither of which attracted their mother&rsquo;s
+attention.</p>
+
+<p>Supper over, they made a final visit
+to their pet, and then left him for the
+night.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;What shall we name him?&rdquo; said Jimmie,
+when they were alone in their room
+at night.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;O, we must have a funny name, he&rsquo;s
+such a sorry looking feller! Wouldn&rsquo;t
+you call him &lsquo;Bitters&rsquo;?&rdquo; said Charley.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Bitters!&rdquo; said Jim, with a laugh.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Yes, that&rsquo;s bad enough.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>So Bitters he was named; and next
+morning they won their mother&rsquo;s reluctant
+consent to keep the dog, provided he
+was kept at the barn, or away from the
+house, at all events.</p>
+
+<p>Then they fed and played with him
+till school time, and shut him up till noon.</p>
+
+<p>Bitters seemed to take to his new
+admirers, and appeared quite satisfied
+with his quarters, and was getting to look
+a little more like a respectable dog, when
+one morning, as he was running round a
+corner of the barn, he came suddenly
+upon the old rooster, who bristled up and
+showed fight. Bitters turned, and ran
+for dear life, as hard as he could go, and
+never has been seen or heard from, from
+that day to this, much to the boys&rsquo;
+regret.</p>
+
+<p class="sig">F. E. S.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_204" id="Page_204">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>204]</a></span></p>
+
+<div class="figcenter ipadtop" style="width: 446px;">
+<img src="images/hd082.jpg" width="446" height="600"
+alt="Stephen holding a rose in his mouth" />
+</div>
+
+<p class="caption">DOG STEPHEN.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_205" id="Page_205">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>205]</a></span></p>
+
+<h2>FRED AND DOG STEPHEN.</h2>
+
+
+<p><span class="dropcap">N</span>OW, just one good cuddle,&rdquo; said little six-year-old Freddie, &ldquo;and then
+I&rsquo;ll be ready for school;&rdquo; and he curled himself up like a young
+Turk in his mother&rsquo;s lap, and nestled there in a very enjoyable way.</p>
+
+<p>She was sitting by the dining-room window; it was open, and a pitcher of
+wild phlox and pink-and-white wake-robins stood in it. While they sat there
+they saw Uncle Rube, who lives over on the hillside, coming along the crooked
+path with a basket on his arm. His head was down, and he was thinking
+so intently that he did not hear the steps behind him of his young dog,
+Stephen.</p>
+
+<p>Now, Rube means to make the best dog in the world of Stephen&mdash;the playful
+little puppy!&mdash;and he never permits him to follow him anywhere unless by
+special invitation. About once a week he will say to him, &ldquo;Stevie, would
+you like to go to your grandfather&rsquo;s with me? Come on, then;&rdquo; and here
+they will come, the puppy so glad that his gait is more awkward than ever,
+his fat body, twisted out of all shape, wriggling along, while his tail will flap
+about in every direction and his ears look like wilted cabbage-leaves.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;He doesn&rsquo;t know Stevie is behind him, does he, ma? and now let&rsquo;s watch
+and see what they will both do when they find out.&rdquo; So they snugged down
+by the window and tittered and watched and anticipated rare fun.</p>
+
+<p>Uncle Rube was whispering to himself and nodding his head and making
+gesticulations with his open hand, while Stephen trotted with his little soft,
+careful feet behind him, smelling of the ground, and thinking green grass
+with the dew sparkling on it was just made purposely for dogs to admire.</p>
+
+<p>Just as Rube came to the big gate and stopped to unlatch it he heard a little
+whiffy breathing behind him, and then he looked and saw Stephen. He was
+very much surprised; but as he never scolded the dog, he simply said, in a
+very earnest way, &ldquo;Steve, I am astonished! You go right back home immediately.
+You&rsquo;re a great boy, indeed, to sneak along without ever being
+invited! I didn&rsquo;t want you, sir, or I&rsquo;d have told you so. Now go right
+back again.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Oh, it was <em>so</em> funny! Stephen just threw his head back and whirled on his
+heels, and ran with all his might down the crooked path.</p>
+
+<p>Then the school-bell rang, and Fred&rsquo;s mother kissed him &ldquo;good-morning,&rdquo;
+and he started off with his books, and as he turned round the corner his white
+teeth showed prettily as, half laughing, he said to himself in wonderment,
+&ldquo;<i>Dear little Stevie dog! he just ran back &rsquo;zactly as if he wanted to.</i>&rdquo;</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_206" id="Page_206">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>206]</a></span></p>
+
+<h2>NOW THE SUN IS SINKING.</h2>
+
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p class="cap">NOW the sun is sinking<br />
+<span class="i3">In the golden west;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Birds and bees and children<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">All have gone to rest;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And the merry streamlet,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">As it runs along,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">With a voice of sweetness<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Sings its evening song.<br /></span></p>
+</div>
+
+<div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Cowslip, daisy, violet,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">In their little beds,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">All among the grasses,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Hide their heavy heads;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">There they&rsquo;ll all, sweet darlings!<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Lie in happy dreams<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Till the rosy morning<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Wakes them with its beams.<br /></span>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+
+<h2><a name="Page_206lower" id="Page_206lower"></a>A RIGMAROLE ABOUT A TEA-PARTY.</h2>
+
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p class="cap">MRS. DYER<br />
+<span class="i4">Stirred the fire,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Agnes Stout<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Poked it out,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Tommy Voles<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Fetched the coals,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Alice Good<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Laid the wood,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Bertie Patch<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Struck the match,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Charlotte Hays<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Made it blaze,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Mrs. Groom<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Kept the broom,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Katy Moore<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Swept the floor,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Fanny Froth<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Laid the cloth,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Arthur Grey<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Brought the tray,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Betty Bates<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Washed the plates,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Nanny Galt<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Smoothed the salt,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Dicky Street<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Fetched the meat,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Sally Strife<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Rubbed the knife,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Minnie York<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Found the fork,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Sophie Silk<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Brought the milk,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Mrs. Bream<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Sent some cream,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Susan Head<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Cut the bread,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Harry Host<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Made the toast,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Mrs. Dee<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Poured out tea,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And they all were as happy as happy could be.<br /></span></p>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_207" id="Page_207">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>207]</a></span></p>
+
+<h2>THE FAIRY BIRD.</h2>
+
+
+<p><span class="dropcap">I</span>&rsquo;M so glad to-morrow is Christmas,
+because I&rsquo;m going to have lots of
+presents.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;So am I glad, though I don&rsquo;t expect
+any presents but a pair of mittens.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;And so am I; but I shan&rsquo;t have any
+presents at all.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>As the three little girls trudged home
+from school they said these things, and as
+Tilly spoke, both the others looked at her
+with pity and some surprise; for she spoke
+cheerfully, and they wondered how she
+could be happy when she was so poor she
+could have no presents on Christmas.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Don&rsquo;t you wish you could find a purse
+full of money right here in the path?&rdquo;
+said Kate, the child who was going to
+have &ldquo;lots of presents.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;O, don&rsquo;t I, if I could keep it honestly!&rdquo;
+And Tilly&rsquo;s eyes shone at the very
+thought.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;What would you buy?&rdquo; asked Bessy,
+rubbing her cold hands, and longing for
+her mittens.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I&rsquo;d buy a pair of large, warm blankets,
+a load of wood, a shawl for mother, and a
+pair of shoes for me; and if there was
+enough left, I&rsquo;d give Bessy a new hat,
+and then she needn&rsquo;t wear Ben&rsquo;s old felt
+one,&rdquo; answered Tilly.</p>
+
+<p>The girls laughed at that; but Bessy
+pulled the funny hat over her ears, and
+said she was much obliged, but she&rsquo;d
+rather have candy.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Let&rsquo;s look, and may be we <em>can</em> find a
+purse. People are always going about
+with money at Christmas time, and some
+one may lose it here,&rdquo; said Kate.</p>
+
+<p>So, as they went along the snowy road,
+they looked about them, half in earnest,
+half in fun. Suddenly Tilly sprang forward,
+exclaiming,&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I see it! I&rsquo;ve found it!&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>The others followed, but all stopped
+disappointed, for it wasn&rsquo;t a purse; it
+was only a little bird. It lay upon the
+snow, with its wings spread and feebly
+fluttering, as if too weak to fly. Its little
+feet were benumbed with cold; its once
+bright eyes were dull with pain, and instead
+of a blithe song, it could only utter
+a faint chirp now and then, as if crying
+for help.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Nothing but a stupid old robin. How
+provoking!&rdquo; cried Kate, sitting down to
+rest.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I shan&rsquo;t touch it; I found one once,
+and took care of it, and the ungrateful
+thing flew away the minute it was well,&rdquo;
+said Bessy, creeping under Kate&rsquo;s shawl,
+and putting her hands under her chin to
+warm them.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Poor little birdie! How pitiful he
+looks, and how glad he must be to see
+some one coming to help him! I&rsquo;ll take
+him up gently, and carry him home to
+mother. Don&rsquo;t be frightened, dear; I&rsquo;m
+your friend.&rdquo; And Tilly knelt down in
+the snow, stretching her hand to the bird
+with the tenderest pity in her face.</p>
+
+<p>Kate and Bessy laughed.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Don&rsquo;t stop for that thing; it&rsquo;s getting
+late and cold. Let&rsquo;s go on, and look for
+the purse,&rdquo; they said, moving away.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;You wouldn&rsquo;t leave it to die!&rdquo; cried
+Tilly. &ldquo;I&rsquo;d rather have the bird than the
+money; so I shan&rsquo;t look any more. The
+purse wouldn&rsquo;t be mine, and I should only
+be tempted to keep it; but this poor thing
+will thank and love me, and I&rsquo;m <em>so</em> glad I
+came in time!&rdquo; Gently lifting the bird,
+Tilly felt its tiny cold claws cling to her
+hand, and saw its dim eyes brighten as it
+nestled down with a grateful chirp.</p>
+
+<div class="figcenter ipadtop" style="width: 384px;">
+<img src="images/hd083.jpg" width="384" height="600"
+alt="Tilly, Kate and Bessy find the bird" />
+</div>
+
+<p class="caption">THE FAIRY BIRD.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Now I&rsquo;ve got a Christmas present,
+after all,&rdquo; she said, smiling, as they walked
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_208" id="Page_208"><!-- Illustration - THE FAIRY BIRD --></a></span>
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_209" id="Page_209">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>209]</a></span>
+on. &ldquo;I always wanted a bird, and this
+one will be such a pretty pet for me!&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;He&rsquo;ll fly away the first chance he gets,
+and die, anyhow; so you&rsquo;d better not
+waste your time over him,&rdquo; said Bessy.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;He can&rsquo;t pay you for taking care of
+him, and my mother says it isn&rsquo;t worth
+while to help folks that can&rsquo;t help us,&rdquo;
+added Kate.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;My mother says, &lsquo;Do as you&rsquo;d be
+done by;&rsquo; and I&rsquo;m sure I&rsquo;d like any one
+to help me, if I was dying of cold and
+hunger. &lsquo;Love your neighbor as yourself,&rsquo;
+is another of her sayings. This bird
+is my little neighbor, and I&rsquo;ll love him and
+care for him, as I often wish our rich
+neighbor would love and care for us,&rdquo; answered
+Tilly, breathing her warm breath
+over the benumbed bird, who looked up
+at her with confiding eyes, quick to feel
+and know a friend.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;What a funny girl you are!&rdquo; said Kate,
+&ldquo;caring for that silly bird, and talking
+about loving your neighbor in that sober
+way. Mr. King don&rsquo;t care a bit for you,
+and never will, though he knows how
+poor you are; so I don&rsquo;t think your plan
+amounts to much.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I believe it, though, and shall do my
+part, any way. Good night. I hope you&rsquo;ll
+have a merry Christmas, and lots of pretty
+things,&rdquo; answered Tilly, as they parted.</p>
+
+<p>Her eyes were full, and she felt <em>so</em> poor
+as she went on alone towards the little old
+house where she lived! It would have
+been so pleasant to know that she was
+going to have some of the pretty things
+all children love to find in their full stockings
+on Christmas morning! and pleasanter
+still to have been able to give her
+mother something nice. So many comforts
+were needed, and there was no hope
+of getting them; for they could barely
+get food and fire.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Never mind, birdie; we&rsquo;ll make the
+best of what we have, and be merry in
+spite of everything. <em>You</em> shall have a
+happy Christmas, any way; and I know
+God won&rsquo;t forget us, if every one else
+does.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>She stopped a minute to wipe her eyes,
+and lean her cheek against the bird&rsquo;s soft
+breast, finding great comfort in the little
+creature, though it could only love her&mdash;nothing
+more.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;See, mother, what a nice present I&rsquo;ve
+found!&rdquo; she cried, going in with a cheery
+face, that was like sunshine in the dark
+room.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I&rsquo;m glad of that, deary; for I haven&rsquo;t
+been able to get my little girl anything but
+a rosy apple. Poor bird! Give it some
+of your warm bread and milk.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Why, mother, what a big bowlful!
+I&rsquo;m afraid you gave me all the milk,&rdquo; said
+Tilly, smiling over the nice steaming supper
+that stood ready for her.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I&rsquo;ve had plenty, dear. Sit down and
+dry your wet feet, and put the bird in my
+basket on this warm flannel.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Tilly peeped into the closet, and saw
+nothing there but dry bread.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Mother&rsquo;s given me all the milk, and is
+going without her tea, &rsquo;cause she knows
+I&rsquo;m hungry. Now I&rsquo;ll surprise her, and
+she shall have a good supper too. She is
+going to split wood, and I&rsquo;ll fix it while
+she&rsquo;s gone.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>So Tilly put down the old teapot, carefully
+poured out a part of the milk, and
+from her pocket produced a great plummy
+bunn, that one of the school children had
+given her, and she had saved for her
+mother. A slice of the dry bread was
+nicely toasted, and the bit of butter set by
+for her to put on it. When her mother
+came in, there was the table drawn up in
+a warm place, a hot cup of tea ready, and
+Tilly and birdie waiting for her.</p>
+
+<p>Such a poor little supper, and yet such
+a happy one! for love, charity, and contentment
+were guests there, and that
+Christmas eve was a blither one than that
+up at the great house, where lights shone,
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_210" id="Page_210">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>210]</a></span>
+fires blazed, a great tree glittered, and
+music sounded, as the children danced
+and played.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;We must go to bed early; for we&rsquo;ve
+only wood enough to last over to-morrow.
+I shall be paid for my work the day after,
+and then we can get some,&rdquo; said Tilly&rsquo;s
+mother, as they sat by the fire.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;If my bird was only a fairy bird, and
+would give us three wishes, how nice it
+would be! Poor dear, he can&rsquo;t give me
+anything; but it&rsquo;s no matter,&rdquo; answered
+Tilly, looking at the robin, who lay in the
+basket, with his head under his wing, a
+mere little feathery bunch.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;He can give you one thing, Tilly&mdash;the
+pleasure of doing good. That is one
+of the sweetest things in life; and the
+poor can enjoy it as well as the rich.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>As her mother spoke, with her tired
+hand softly stroking her little daughter&rsquo;s
+hair, Tilly suddenly started, and pointed
+to the window, saying, in a frightened
+whisper,&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I saw a face&mdash;a man&rsquo;s face&mdash;looking
+in. It&rsquo;s gone now; but I truly saw it.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Some traveller attracted by the light,
+perhaps; I&rsquo;ll go and see.&rdquo; And Tilly&rsquo;s
+mother went to the door.</p>
+
+<p>No one was there. The wind blew
+cold, the stars shone, the snow lay white
+on field and wood, and the Christmas
+moon was glittering in the sky.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;What sort of a face was it?&rdquo; asked
+Tilly&rsquo;s mother, coming back.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;A pleasant sort of face, I think; but
+I was so startled, I don&rsquo;t quite know what
+it was like. I wish we had a curtain
+there,&rdquo; said Tilly.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I like to have our light shine out in the
+evening; for the road is dark and lonely
+just here, and the twinkle of our lamp is
+pleasant to people&rsquo;s eyes as they go by.
+We can do so little for our neighbors, I
+am glad to cheer the way for them. Now
+put these poor old shoes to dry, and go to
+bed, deary; I&rsquo;ll come soon.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Tilly went, taking her bird with her to
+sleep in his basket near by, lest he should
+be lonely in the night.</p>
+
+<p>Soon the little house was dark and still,
+and no one saw the Christmas spirits at
+their work that night.</p>
+
+<p>When Tilly opened the door the next
+morning, she gave a loud cry, clapped her
+hands, and then stood still, quite speechless
+with wonder and delight. There,
+before the door, lay a great pile of wood,
+all ready to burn, a big bundle and a basket,
+with a lovely nosegay of winter roses,
+holly, and evergreen tied to the handle.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;O, mother, did the fairies do it?&rdquo; cried
+Tilly, pale with her happiness, as she
+seized the basket while her mother took
+in the bundle.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Yes, dear; the best and dearest fairy
+in the world, called &lsquo;Charity.&rsquo; She walks
+abroad at Christmas time, does beautiful
+deeds like this, and does not stay to be
+thanked,&rdquo; answered her mother, with full
+eyes, as she undid the parcel.</p>
+
+<p>There they were, the warm, thick blankets,
+the comfortable shawl, the new
+shoes, and, best of all, a pretty winter hat
+for Bessy. The basket was full of good
+things to eat, and on the flowers lay a
+paper, saying,&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;For the little girl who loves her neighbor
+as herself.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Mother, I really think my bird is a
+fairy bird, and all these splendid things
+come out from him,&rdquo; said Tilly, laughing
+and crying with joy.</p>
+
+<p>It really did seem so; for, as she spoke,
+the robin flew to the table, hopped to the
+nosegay, and perching among the roses,
+began to chirp with all his little might.
+The sun streamed in on flowers, bird,
+and happy child, and no one saw a shadow
+glide away from the window. No one
+ever knew that Mr. King had seen and
+heard the little girls the night before, or
+dreamed that the rich neighbor had learned
+a lesson from the poor neighbor.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_211" id="Page_211">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>211]</a></span>
+And Tilly&rsquo;s bird <em>was</em> a fairy bird; for
+by her love and tenderness to the helpless
+thing, she brought good gifts to herself,
+happiness to the unknown giver of them,
+and a faithful little friend, who did not fly
+away, but staid with her till the snow was
+gone, making summer for her in the winter
+time.</p>
+
+<p class="sig smcap">Louisa M. Alcott.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+
+<div class="figcenter ipadtop" style="width: 486px;">
+<a name="Page_211lower" id="Page_211lower"></a>
+<img src="images/hd084.jpg" width="486" height="400"
+alt="The fiddler on the hut roof, with the coyotes below" />
+</div>
+
+<p class="caption">&ldquo;<span class="smcap">As the night advanced, the old negro felt the cold pierce his stiffened limbs.</span>&rdquo; P. <a href="#Page_216">216</a>.</p>
+
+<h2>SAVED BY A FIDDLE.</h2>
+
+
+<p><span class="dropcap">A</span>MONG the most rapacious and dangerous
+animals of North America,
+is the wolf, commonly called the coyote
+(pronounced ky-<em>o</em>-te) in some of the Southern
+and Western States. The wolves&mdash;far
+more numerous in the United States
+than in Europe&mdash;are, perhaps, more horrible
+in aspect than those of the old
+world. Along desert paths, on the prairies
+or in the woods, the wolf, the ghoul
+of the animal race, presents itself to the
+traveller, with its slavering jaws and
+flashing eyes, uttering a growl, which is
+the usual sign of cowardice blended with
+impudence. &ldquo;The coyote,&rdquo; says a recent
+writer, &ldquo;is a living, breathing allegory of
+Want. He is always poor, out of luck,
+and friendless.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>It is very difficult to catch coyotes in a
+trap, but they are frequently hunted down
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_212" id="Page_212">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>212]</a></span>
+with horses and dogs. Their coat is of a
+dull reddish color, mixed with gray and
+white hairs. Such is their ordinary condition,
+but like other animals they display
+varieties. Their bushy tail, black at the
+tip, is nearly as long as one third of their
+body. They resemble the dogs which
+one sees in the Indian wigwams, and
+which are certainly descended from this
+species. They are found in the regions
+between the Mississippi and the Pacific,
+and in Southern Mexico. They travel in
+packs like jackals, and pursue deer, buffaloes,
+and other animals which they hope
+to master. They do not venture to attack
+buffaloes in herds, but they follow the latter
+in large packs, watching till a laggard&mdash;a
+young calf or an old bull, for instance&mdash;may
+fall out; then they dart upon
+it and tear it to pieces. They accompany
+parties of sportsmen or travellers, prowl
+round deserted camps, and devour the
+fragments they find there. At times they
+will enter a camp during the night, and
+seize lumps of meat on which the emigrants
+calculated for their morning meal.
+These robberies sometimes exasperate
+the victims, and, growing less saving of
+their powder and shot, they pursue them
+till they have rubbed out the mess-number
+of several.</p>
+
+<p>This breed of wolves is the most numerous
+of all the carnivora in North America,
+and it is for this reason that the coyotes
+often suffer from hunger. Then, but only
+then, they eat corn, roots, and vegetables&mdash;in
+short, anything that will save them
+from death by starvation.</p>
+
+<p>The coyote is ignorant of any feeling
+of sympathy, and for this reason inspires
+none. Here is an anecdote, however,
+which proves that this quadruped thief
+of the wood is capable of feeling a certain
+degree of sensibility of the nerves, at any
+rate, if not of the heart. This story was
+told me under canvas, while we were hunting
+with the Pawnee Indians.</p>
+
+<p>During the first period of the colonization
+of Kentucky, the coyotes were so
+numerous in the prairie to the south of
+that state, that the inhabitants did not
+dare to leave their houses unless armed
+to the teeth. The women and children
+were strictly confined in-doors. The coyotes
+by which the country was infested
+belonged to the herd whose coat is dark
+gray, a very numerous species in the
+northern district, in the heart of the dense
+forests and unexplored mountains of the
+Green River.</p>
+
+<p>The village of Henderson, situated at
+the left bank of the Ohio, near its confluence
+with Green River, was the spot most
+frequented by these depredators.</p>
+
+<p>The pigs, calves, and sheep of the planters
+paid a heavy tax to these voracious
+animals. Several times in the depth of
+winter, when the snow covered the ground,
+and the flocks were kept in the stalls, the
+starving coyotes attacked human beings;
+and more than one belated farmer, returning
+home at night, found himself surrounded
+by a raging pack, from whose
+teeth he had great difficulty in defending
+himself.</p>
+
+<p>Among the many startling adventures
+I have heard narrated, not one made a
+greater impression on me than that of
+which Richard, the old negro fiddler, was
+the hero, and which I will tell you.</p>
+
+<p>Richard was what is called a &ldquo;good old
+good-for-nothing darky.&rdquo; The whole
+district allowed that he had no other
+merit beyond that of sawing the fiddle;
+and this merit, which is not one in our
+own eyes, was highly valued, however, by
+all the colored people, and even by the
+whites who lived for a distance of forty
+miles round. One thing is certain&mdash;that
+no festival could be held without Fiddler
+Dick being invited to it.</p>
+
+<p>Marriages, christenings, parties prolonged
+till dawn, which are called &ldquo;break-downs&rdquo;
+in the United States, could not
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_213" id="Page_213">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>213]</a></span>
+take place without the aid of his fiddle;
+and though the negro minstrel was old,
+and a good deal of his black wool was absent
+from the place where the wool ought
+to grow, still Richard was no less welcome
+wherever he presented himself, with
+his instrument wrapped up in a ragged
+old handkerchief under his arm, and a
+knotted stick in his hand.</p>
+
+<p>Old Richard was the property of one
+of the Hendersons, a member of the family
+that gave its name to this Kentucky
+county and village. His master had a
+liking for him, owing to his obedient and
+original character, and the slave, instead
+of tilling the soil, was at liberty to do
+whatever he thought proper. No one
+raised any objection to this tolerance, for
+Richard, whom his master was used to
+call a necessary evil, had before all the
+talent of keeping the negroes of the plantation
+in good humor by means of his
+fiddle.</p>
+
+<p>Richard, who understood all the importance
+of his exalted functions, knew
+nothing but his duty, and was remarkably
+punctual whenever those who honored
+him with their confidence let him know
+that his services were required. In this
+respect the merest trifle irritated him, and
+any vexation or disturbance rendered him
+ferocious.</p>
+
+<p>Despite the proverbial timidity attributed
+to geniuses, old Dick displayed a
+touch of the hyena whenever, at any of
+the negro festivals presided over by him,
+anything or anybody offended etiquette
+or the proprieties. As for Dick, he never
+forgot himself in the slightest degree, and
+whenever he was called upon to undertake
+the duties he performed so well, he
+had never once kept the company waiting.
+And yet one day&mdash;poor Dick! The following
+narrative will show that it was not
+by his own fault that he arrived too late
+at his appointment.</p>
+
+<p>A wedding of colored people was about
+to come off on a plantation about six
+miles from the one where the fiddler
+lived. In order that the feast might be
+perfect, old Dick had been invited, and
+he was unanimously appointed master of
+the ceremonies. It was during the winter;
+the cold was excessive, and the snow,
+which had fallen incessantly for three
+days, covered the ground to a depth of
+several feet.</p>
+
+<p>While all Mr. Henderson&rsquo;s negroes,
+with their master&rsquo;s previous permission,
+hastened to the spot where pleasure called
+them, the ebony Apollo was arranging his
+toilet with peculiar delight. A white shirt,
+a collar as immoderately long in front as
+it was high in the neck,&mdash;so that Dick&rsquo;s
+head resembled a block of coal in a sheet
+of white paper,&mdash;a blue coat with gilt buttons,
+and long tails that reached to his
+heels,&mdash;a present from his master,&mdash;a
+red silk cravat fringed at the ends, a
+green waistcoat ornamented with an
+orange patch at the spot where the watch-pocket
+formerly was, boots which had
+seen their best days, and a wide-awake
+hat,&mdash;such was the elegant and excessively
+fashionable attire of Dick, the old
+black fiddler, who, when dressed in these
+rags, believed himself as handsome as
+Adonis.</p>
+
+<p>After taking a parting glance at the
+piece of looking-glass held by three nails
+on the wall of his bedroom, and favoring
+himself with a smile that expressed a personal
+satisfaction, Richard took his fiddle
+under his arm and set out.</p>
+
+<p>The moon was shining over his head,
+the stars sparkled&mdash;to use the fiddler&rsquo;s
+picturesque expression&mdash;like &ldquo;gilt nails
+driven into the ceiling of the firmament
+by an audacious upholsterer.&rdquo; No sound
+could be heard, save the crackling of the
+snow beneath Richard&rsquo;s feet, as he put
+them down with the heaviness of old age.
+The road he had to follow was very narrow;
+its complicated windings passed
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_214" id="Page_214">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>214]</a></span>
+through a dense forest which the axe had
+not yet assailed, and whose depths were
+still as entirely unknown as at the period
+when the Redskins were the sole owners
+of the territory. This track could only
+be followed by a pedestrian; no cart road
+existed for several miles round.</p>
+
+<p>The profound solitude of this road must
+infallibly produce its effect&mdash;that of fear
+or apprehension&mdash;on a being belonging to
+the human race; but at this moment the
+old man was so deeply plunged in thought
+that nothing could make him forget the
+anxiety he felt at not arriving in time at
+the place where he was expected. He
+doubled his pace as he thought of the
+furious glances that would be bestowed
+on him by those whose joys his absence
+retarded, and he regretted the time he had
+spent in giving an extra polish to his coat
+buttons and in pulling up the two splendid
+points of his shirt collar.</p>
+
+<p>While thinking of the reproaches that
+menaced him, old Dick looked up, and
+the moon shining above his head proved
+to him that he was even more behindhand
+than he had supposed. His legs
+then began moving like the wheels of a
+locomotive, so as to keep him constantly
+ahead of certain black shadows which
+seemed to be following his every footstep
+on the forest path.</p>
+
+<p>They were coyotes, horrible coyotes,
+that cast these shadows, and from time to
+time gave a snarl of covetousness or impatience;
+but old Dick paid no attention to
+them. Ere long, however, he was obliged
+to devote his entire attention to what was
+going on behind him. He had walked
+half the distance, and already saw through
+the forest arcades the clearing which he
+must cross to reach the spot where he
+was expected. The angry barks of the
+wolves had increased during the last quarter
+of an hour, and the sound of their
+paws making the snow crackle inspired
+the old man with an indescribable terror.
+The number of animals seemed momentarily
+to be augmented; it resembled an
+ant-heap seen through the magnifying-glass
+of a gigantic microscope.</p>
+
+<p>Wolves, in all parts of the world, look
+twice before attacking a man; they study
+the ground, and wait for the propitious
+moment. This was what was now happening,
+very fortunately for old Dick, who
+was more and more perceiving the greatness
+of the danger, and doubled his speed
+in proportion as his pursuers grew more
+daring, brushed past his legs with gnashing
+teeth, and joyously strove to get ahead
+of each other. Dick was thoroughly acquainted
+with the habits of his enemies,
+and hence carefully avoided running;
+that would have been giving the signal of
+attack, for coyotes only rush on persons
+who are frightened.</p>
+
+<p>The only chance of salvation left him
+was to prolong this dangerous walk to the
+skirt of the forest. There he hoped the
+coyotes, as they do not dare venture into
+an open plain, would leave him and allow
+him to continue his walk at peace. He
+also remembered that in the centre of
+the clearing there was a deserted cabin,
+and the thought of reaching this refuge
+restored him a portion of his courage.</p>
+
+<p>The daring of the coyotes increased
+with each moment, and the hapless negro
+could not look around without seeing
+bright eyes moving in all directions, like
+the phosphorescent fireflies in summer.
+One after the other the quadrupeds tried
+their teeth on old Dick&rsquo;s thin legs, and as
+he had dropped his stick he had recourse
+to his fiddle to keep his foes aloof. At
+the first blow he dealt the springs produced
+a sound which had the immediate effect
+of putting to flight the coyotes, which
+were surprised by this unusual music.</p>
+
+<p>Dick, an observer naturally and by
+necessity, then began strumming his fiddle
+with his fingers; and the carnivorous
+animals at once manifested fresh marks
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_215" id="Page_215">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>215]</a></span>
+of surprise, as if a charge of shot had
+tickled their ribs. This fortunate diversion,
+repeated several times, brought Dick
+to the skirt of the forest, and taking advantage
+of a favorable moment, he darted
+on, still striking the strings, and going in
+the direction of the hut.</p>
+
+<p>The coyotes halted for a moment, with
+their tails between their legs, looking at
+their prey flying before them; but ere
+long their ravenous instinct gained the
+upper hand, and with a unanimous bark
+they all rushed in pursuit of the unfortunate
+negro. Had the wolves caught up
+to old Dick in this moment of fury, he
+might have appealed in vain to his fiddle.
+By running he had destroyed the charm,
+and the coyotes would not have stopped
+to listen to him even had he played like
+Orpheus in the olden times, or Ole Bull
+in ours.</p>
+
+<p>Fortunately, the old man reached the
+cabin at the moment when the coyotes
+were at his heels. With a hand rendered
+doubly vigorous by the imminence of the
+danger, he shut the door of the protecting
+cabin, and secured it with a beam he
+found within reach. Then he hoisted
+himself, not without sundry lacerations of
+his garments, on the ruined roof, the
+beams of which alone remained, supported
+on blocks of wood at the four corners of
+the walls.</p>
+
+<p>Old Dick found himself comparatively
+out of danger; but the coyotes displayed
+a fury which threatened to become terrible.
+Several of them had entered the
+cabin, and conjointly with those outside
+they leaped at the legs of the minstrel,
+whom rapid movements and repeated
+kicks scarce protected from numerous
+bites.</p>
+
+<p>Old Dick, in spite of his agony, had
+not forgotten his fiddle, which had saved
+his life in the forest. Seizing his bow
+with a firm hand, he drew from the instrument
+a shrill note, which overpowered
+the deafening barks of the coyotes, and
+silenced them as if by enchantment. This
+silence henceforth continued, only interrupted
+by the hysterical sounds which the
+fiddle produced under the fear-stiffened
+fingers of the old negro performer.</p>
+
+<p>This inharmonious music could not
+satisfy the starving animals for long, and
+from the efforts which they soon made to
+reach their prey, old Dick comprehended
+that noise was not sufficient to enchant
+the wolves. They dashed forward more
+furiously than ever to escalade the wall.
+He considered himself lost, especially
+when he noticed, scarce half a yard from
+his trembling legs, the enormous head of
+a coyote, whose large, open eyes seemed
+to flash fire and gleam.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;The Lord ha&rsquo; mussy on all!&rdquo; he
+cried; &ldquo;I am an eaten man!&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>And without knowing what he was
+about, he let his trembling fingers stray
+over the fiddle, and began playing the
+famous air of &ldquo;Yankee Doodle.&rdquo; It was
+the chant of the swan singing its requiem
+in the hour of death.</p>
+
+<p>But suddenly&mdash;O, miracle of harmony!&mdash;a
+calm set in round the negro minstrel.
+Orpheus was no fable: the animals obeyed
+this new enchantment; and when Dick, on
+recovering from his terror, was unable to
+understand what was going on around
+him, he saw himself surrounded by an
+audience a hundred fold more attentive to
+the charms of music than any which had
+hitherto admired his execution. This was
+so true that so soon as his bow ceased
+moving, the coyotes dashed forward to renew
+the battle.</p>
+
+<p>Dick now knew what his means of preservation
+were. He must play the fiddle
+till some help arrived. Ere long, yielding
+to the fascination of the art, the musician
+completely forgot the danger he incurred.
+Indulging all the fancies of his imagination,
+he gave his four-footed audience a
+concert in which he surpassed himself.
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_216" id="Page_216">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>216]</a></span>
+Never had he played with more taste,
+soul, and expression. Hence he forgot,
+in the intoxication of his triumph, the
+wedding and the brilliant company, the
+whiskey-punch and supper smoking hot
+on the board, that awaited him no great
+distance off.</p>
+
+<p>But alas! every medal has its reverse
+in this world, and all days of pleasure
+have their to-morrow of woe. As the
+night advanced, the old negro felt the cold
+pierce his stiffened limbs. In vain did he
+try to rest; if the bow left the fiddle
+strings, the coyotes rushed against the
+walls of the cabin; if, on the contrary, he
+continued to wander along the paths of
+harmony, these <i>dilettanti</i> of a novel sort
+squatted down on their hams, with their
+tails stretched out on the snow, ears
+pricked up, tongues hanging from their
+half-opened jaws, and they followed, with
+a regular movement of the head and body,
+all the notes produced by old Dick&rsquo;s fiddle.</p>
+
+<p>While this fantastic scene, illumined
+by the moonbeams, was taking place in
+the clearing, the negroes, who were awaiting
+their comrade to begin the fun, were
+growing sadly impatient, and did not know
+what to think of the delay of their musician,
+who was usually most punctual.
+At last six of them, tired of waiting, left
+the house to make a voyage of discovery;
+and on reaching the cabin, on the top of
+which Dick was perched, they noticed
+some thirty coyotes in the position I have
+described. The old player was still continuing
+his involuntary concert, with his
+eyes fixed on his deadly foes.</p>
+
+<p>At the moment when the six negroes
+raised a simultaneous shout, the whole
+band of coyotes thought it high time to
+bolt. In a twinkling they disappeared,
+and the fiddler, frozen and numbed, fell
+fainting into the arms of his rescuers.
+His woolly hair, which, in spite of his great
+age, was perfectly black at the time when
+he performed his toilet, had turned white
+in the space of two hours.</p>
+
+<p class="sig smcap">Sir Lascelles Wraxall.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+
+<h2><a name="Page_216lower" id="Page_216lower"></a>THE BIRD&rsquo;S NEST.</h2>
+
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p class="cap">DEEP in a leafy dell we found,<br />
+<span class="i3">When early Summer wove her crown,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">A bird&rsquo;s nest on the mossy ground,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">From blooming bough blown down.<br /></span></p>
+</div>
+
+<div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Five pretty eggs, quite warm and white,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Were waiting for the brooding wing,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">That from each shell there might take flight<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">A bird, to trill and sing.<br /></span>
+</div>
+
+<div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">The mother sat and grieved apart;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Her song had no rejoicing note.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The sorrow of her wounded heart<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Seemed sobbing in her throat.<br /></span>
+</div>
+
+<div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">She thought of all the summer days,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">With their sweet sunshine, yet to come;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Of fledgelings echoing God&rsquo;s praise,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">While only hers were dumb.<br /></span>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_217" id="Page_217">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>217]</a></span></p>
+
+<div class="figcenter ipadtop" style="width: 600px;">
+<img src="images/hd085.jpg" width="600" height="416"
+alt="A ground-level nest, containing five eggs" />
+</div>
+
+<p class="caption">THE BIRD&rsquo;S NEST.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_218" id="Page_218">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>218]</a></span></p>
+
+<h2>THE YOUNG ARTIST.</h2>
+
+
+<p><span class="dropcap">W</span>ELL done, little one! A very pretty tune, and very nicely sung!&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>The speaker was a stranger who had just come in sight of the
+pretty cottage where Robbie and Maria Barnes lived with their widowed
+mother, and outside of which the little singer sat nursing the baby, while
+Robbie chopped wood at a little distance.</p>
+
+<p>The widow, hearing a stranger&rsquo;s voice, came to the door, and seeing that
+he appeared to have been walking far invited him to come in and take a rest.
+This he very gladly did; and while she dusted a chair for him, Mary brought
+a mug of fresh milk, and they were soon on very friendly terms with him.</p>
+
+<p>He said that he was an artist, and that he had come to that part of the
+country for a time to take sketches of the scenery around; that he was at
+present staying at the village inn, but that he would be very glad if they could
+arrange to let him live with them for a few weeks. This was agreed upon, and
+on the next day Mr. Page&mdash;for that was the stranger&rsquo;s name&mdash;took up his
+abode in the widow Paul&rsquo;s cottage.</p>
+
+<p>Very pleased Robbie and Maria were with him; and when he came home
+from his rambles and sat under the shade of the large tree by the side of the
+house finishing the sketches he had taken, they would stand looking on with
+wondering interest. Robbie especially, who had never seen any other pictures
+than those in his spelling-book, was rapt in amazement as he saw hills, rivers,
+flowers, trees and animals start up into seeming life under the artist&rsquo;s hand.
+Mr. Page, seeing how interested the boy was in what he saw, invited him to
+accompany him in his rambles. Robbie did so, and many valuable things he
+learned in these pleasant wanderings.</p>
+
+<p>When the time came for Mr. Page to leave these simple cottagers, he was
+as sorry to go as they were to part with him; and he promised that if he lived
+and prospered, he would endeavor to do something for his favorite, Robbie.</p>
+
+<p>This visit of the artist to their humble abode became the turning-point in
+Robbie&rsquo;s life. An idea had taken possession of the boy&rsquo;s mind. Why should
+he not learn to be an artist like Mr. Page? He had watched very carefully
+the manner in which that gentleman proceeded when taking sketches of the
+objects around him; he had begun himself to look upon those objects with
+very different eyes from what he had been accustomed to, and felt sure that
+with patience and perseverance he could master the art of drawing and painting
+himself.</p>
+
+<p>His first attempt was a rough sketch of grandma on his slate. It was done
+with a few strokes of the pencil, but there was really some likeness to the
+dear old lady in it, and mother felt sure her boy would some day be an
+artist.</p>
+
+<div class="figcenter ipadtop" style="width: 416px;">
+<img src="images/hd086.jpg" width="416" height="600"
+alt="Grandma and mother admire Robbie's slate sketch" />
+</div>
+
+<p class="caption">THE YOUNG ARTIST.</p>
+
+<p>Several weeks passed away, and at length he thought he might attempt the
+portrait of his little dog, &ldquo;Pink,&rdquo; and, if he could succeed to his satisfaction,
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_219" id="Page_219"><!-- Illustration - THE YOUNG ARTIST --></a></span>
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_220" id="Page_220">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>220]</a></span>
+he determined that he would carry it home and surprise his mother with it.
+After much patient labor he finished his task, and showed the sketch first of
+all to his friend Thomas, who being much pleased with it, they hastened at
+once to Robbie&rsquo;s home with it. Watching their opportunity, they stood the
+picture unobserved against the wall, and waited to see the effect it would produce.
+Little Maria was the first to notice it. &ldquo;Oh, mother,&rdquo; she cried,
+&ldquo;here&rsquo;s a picture of Pinky! Do come and look at it! Isn&rsquo;t it real?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>The widow turned from her work to look.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Why, so it is,&rdquo; she exclaimed. &ldquo;Who painted it, Robbie? Where did
+you get it from?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Robbie did it himself,&rdquo; cried Thomas, unable to keep the secret any
+longer.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Robbie did it?&rdquo; echoed the widow, with a look of bewilderment. &ldquo;<em>You</em>
+painted it, Robbie?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Yes, mother,&rdquo; laughed Robbie, enjoying her perplexity; &ldquo;I did it all
+myself. I have been learning unknown to you. If I can learn to paint
+as well as Mr. Page, mother, eh! Sha&rsquo;n&rsquo;t I be able to help you then,
+mother?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>She smiled and kissed him. His cleverness was pleasing to her, but his
+loving ambition to be of service to her was still more grateful to her mother&rsquo;s
+heart.</p>
+
+<p>The famous Benjamin West said his mother&rsquo;s kiss made him a painter.
+Robbie Barnes might have said the same thing, for from that moment he was
+more than ever determined to persevere. A few weeks after this, Robbie and
+Thomas were out in the woods together. It was a holiday with them both,
+and Robbie had determined to spend the time in sketching a certain landscape
+he had in view. They had brought their dinner with them; and while
+Robbie was drawing, Thomas laid out the provisions. Having got it all ready,
+he went off to the brook to fetch a mug of water, and as he returned called to
+Robbie to come to dinner. But what was his annoyance, as he came near, to
+see the mischievous dog munching the last piece of cheese? In sudden
+passion he caught up a stick and gave chase to Pink, who scampered off with
+the cheese in his mouth. Robbie was so amused at the comical scene that he
+thought he would attempt a painting of it, and this idea set Thomas laughing
+as heartily as himself. It was weeks before he had finished the sketch; but
+when it was completed, it made a striking picture for a boy of his age.</p>
+
+<p>Years passed, and Robbie worked faithfully at his painting, and made such
+progress that Mr. Moring urged him to go with him on a visit to the neighboring
+city, where he could see some gentlemen who might be able to assist him
+in his desire of becoming a painter. Robbie was unwilling to leave his mother,
+but she was resolved he should not lose the opportunity for her; and shortly
+afterward Robbie, with Thomas and Mr. Moring, was on his way to the great
+city, which he had never seen before. Arrived there, Mr. Moring took him
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_221" id="Page_221">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>221]</a></span>
+to an exhibition of pictures, and there introduced him again to his old friend
+Mr. Page. The artist, to whom Mr. Moring had already showed the painting
+of the dog running off with the dinner, was exceedingly surprised that a boy
+so entirely self-taught should have made such progress, and was pleased indeed
+to see him again. His judgment of the merits of Robbie&rsquo;s work was
+such that Mr. Moring undertook to have the boy instructed by one of the best
+teachers of drawing, and so put him in a fair way of attaining that upon
+which his heart was set&mdash;the becoming a painter like Mr. Page. Robbie&rsquo;s
+mother, though sad to part with him, gratefully consented to his leaving his
+home for a time for this purpose; and though Robbie was much troubled to
+think what his mother would do without the little help he had been able to
+render her, he was persuaded that the best way to serve her was to improve
+himself. He had not been long away before a message came to his mother
+telling her that he could earn enough by the sale of his little drawings to pay
+one of the village-lads to fetch wood and water, and to do other little things
+for her; that he was improving very fast, and that he had good reason to hope
+that he should one day be able to earn enough to keep them all in comfort.</p>
+
+<p>Little Maria was busy braiding straw when this message came.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I shall not want Robbie to work for me, mother,&rdquo; she said. &ldquo;I shall
+soon be able to earn my own living, and I will help to support our dear
+mother when she grows old.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;God bless you, my child!&rdquo; said the happy mother. &ldquo;With such dutiful
+children as you and your dear brother, no mother need fear to grow old.&rdquo;</p>
+
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p class="cap">YOU&rsquo;RE starting to-day on life&rsquo;s journey,<br />
+<span class="i3">Along on the highway of life;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">You&rsquo;ll meet with a thousand temptations;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Each city with evil is rife.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">This world is a stage of excitement;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">There&rsquo;s danger wherever you go;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But if you are tempted in weakness,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Have courage, my boy, to say NO!<br /></span></p>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_222" id="Page_222">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>222]</a></span></p>
+
+<h2>THE RUSTIC MIRROR.</h2>
+
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p class="cap">SADIE&rsquo;S boudoir is a meadow,<br />
+<span class="i3">Carpeted with blue-eyed grass;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Slender birches, rounded maples,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Frame her inlaid looking-glass.<br /></span></p>
+</div>
+
+<div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Curtains woven up in cloud-land<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Trail their fringes over all,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Shifting shadows gray and purple,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Which aerial elves let fall.<br /></span>
+</div>
+
+<div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Hither Sadie, morn and evening,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Comes for water from the spring,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Pausing ere she fills her pitcher<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Where the greenest mosses cling,&mdash;<br /></span>
+</div>
+
+<div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Pausing where, as in a mirror,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">She a wistful face beholds;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Magic mirror, for within it<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Many a vision fair unfolds.<br /></span>
+</div>
+
+<div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">When the April clouds are driven<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Over depths of azure skies,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Windows open into heaven,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And she sees her mother&rsquo;s eyes.<br /></span>
+</div>
+
+<div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">When she binds upon her forehead<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Wreath of daisies twined with wheat,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">She is queen, and wears a jewelled<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Crown, with slippers on her feet.<br /></span>
+</div>
+
+<div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">When the glories of October,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Crimson maple, golden birch,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Make her mirror finer, richer,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Than stained windows of a church,&mdash;<br /></span>
+</div>
+
+<div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">She of golden-rod and aster<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Weaves a garland for her hair,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Leans above the magic mirror,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Murmuring, &ldquo;Mother called me fair.&rdquo;<br /></span>
+</div>
+
+<div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">But &rsquo;tis best when clouds are flying<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">O&rsquo;er the clear blue April skies,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And through dreamy depths she gazes<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Into heaven and mother&rsquo;s eyes.<br /></span>
+</div>
+
+<p class="poet">M. R. W.</p>
+</div>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_223" id="Page_223">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>223]</a></span></p>
+
+<div class="figcenter ipadtop" style="width: 417px;">
+<img src="images/hd087.jpg" width="417" height="600"
+alt="Sadie uses the pond as a mirror to put a garland in her hair" />
+</div>
+
+<p class="caption">THE RUSTIC MIRROR.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_224" id="Page_224">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>224]</a></span></p>
+
+<h2>LITTLE RED RIDING-HOOD.</h2>
+
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p class="cap">COME back, come back together,<br />
+<span class="i3">All ye fancies of the past,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Ye days of April weather,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Ye shadows that are cast<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">By the haunted hours before!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Come back, come back, my childhood;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Thou art summoned by a spell<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">From the green leaves of the wildwood,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">From beside the charmed well,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">For Red Riding-Hood, the darling,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">The flower of fairy lore.<br /></span></p>
+</div>
+
+<div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">The fields were covered over<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">With colors as she went;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Daisy, buttercup and clover<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Below her footsteps bent;<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Summer shed its shining store;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">She was happy as she pressed them;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Beneath her little feet;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">She plucked them and caressed them;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">They were so very sweet;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">They had never seemed so sweet before<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To Red Riding-Hood, the darling,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">The flower of fairy lore.<br /></span>
+</div>
+
+<div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">How the heart of childhood dances<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Upon a sunny day!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">It has its own romances,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And a wide, wide world have they&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">A world where Phantasie is king,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Made all of eager dreaming;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">When once grown up and tall&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Now is the time for scheming&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Then we shall do them all!<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Do such pleasant fancies spring<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">For Red Riding-Hood, the darling,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">The flower of fairy lore?<br /></span>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_225" id="Page_225">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>225]</a></span></p>
+
+<div class="figcenter ipadtop" style="width: 420px;">
+<img src="images/hd088.jpg" width="420" height="600"
+alt="Little red riding-hood, wearing her cloak, stands in the doorway" />
+</div>
+
+<p class="caption">LITTLE RED RIDING-HOOD.</p>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_226" id="Page_226">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>226]</a></span>
+<span class="i0">She seems like an ideal love,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">The poetry of childhood shown,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And yet loved with a real love,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">As if she were our own&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">A younger sister for the heart;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Like the woodland pheasant,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Her hair is brown and bright;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And her smile is pleasant,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">With its rosy light.<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Never can the memory part<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">With Red Riding-Hood, the darling,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">The flower of fairy lore.<br /></span>
+</div>
+
+<div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Did the painter, dreaming<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">In a morning hour,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Catch the fairy seeming<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Of this fairy flower?<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Winning it with eager eyes<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">From the old enchanted stories,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Lingering with a long delight<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">On the unforgotten glories<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Of the infant sight?<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Giving us a sweet surprise<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">In Red Riding-Hood, the darling,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">The flower of fairy lore?<br /></span>
+</div>
+
+<div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Too long in the meadow staying,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Where the cowslip bends,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">With the buttercups delaying<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">As with early friends,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Did the little maiden stay.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Sorrowful the tale for us;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">We, too, loiter &rsquo;mid life&rsquo;s flowers,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">A little while so glorious,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">So soon lost in darker hours,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">All love lingering on their way,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Like Red Riding-Hood, the darling,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">The flower of fairy lore.<br /></span>
+</div>
+
+<p class="poet smcap">L&aelig;titia Elizabeth Landon.</p>
+</div>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_227" id="Page_227">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>227]</a></span></p>
+
+<div class="figcenter ipadboth" style="width: 456px;">
+<img src="images/hd089.jpg" width="456" height="400"
+alt="Maggie runs to rescue the child from the bull" />
+</div>
+
+<h2>HOW MAGGIE PAID THE RENT.</h2>
+
+
+<p><span class="dropcap">P</span>RESENCE of mind is one of the
+rarest, as it is one of the most enviable
+of endowments. It is the power
+of instantaneously forming a judgment,
+and acting upon it, and includes not only
+moral courage, but self-possession. No
+matter how brave a man may be in the
+face of expected peril,&mdash;if he lacks presence
+of mind, he is helpless in a sudden
+emergency. But, as this quality is an
+ingredient of the highest courage, the
+bravest men invariably possess it. The
+presence of mind of one man has often
+saved thousands of lives in sudden peril,
+on sea or land. This is naturally
+enough regarded as a distinctively masculine
+virtue; but it is one that both sexes
+may profitably cultivate, as is shown by
+the following story. Girls as well as boys
+should be taught self-reliance&mdash;to depend
+on themselves, to think quickly and act
+promptly. Perhaps no emergency will
+arise in their lives in which the importance
+of such mental training shall be illustrated;
+but it is well to be prepared &ldquo;for any fate,&rdquo;
+and the discipline which produces this virtue
+gives strength and symmetry to the
+whole intellectual organism.</p>
+
+
+<p class="smlpadt">&ldquo;Is supper nearly ready, Maggie? It
+is time for Jack to return from his work.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>The speaker was an elderly woman in
+a widow&rsquo;s garb, and the person she addressed
+was her granddaughter, a pleasant-looking
+girl, who might perhaps have
+been fourteen years of age.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Yes, grandmother, it is just ready,
+such as it is,&rdquo; replied Maggie; &ldquo;but I
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_228" id="Page_228">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>228]</a></span>
+could wish poor Jack had a better meal
+after his hard work than what we are able
+to give him.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Ay, ay, child, I wish it as much as
+you can; but what is to be done? Wishing
+will never make us rich folk, and we
+may be thankful if worse troubles than a
+poor supper do not come upon us soon.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>So spoke the grandmother, and taking
+the spectacles from her nose, she wiped
+their dim glasses with her apron.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Why, grandmother, what do you
+mean?&rdquo; cried Maggie, looking up in
+alarm. &ldquo;What worse troubles can be
+coming, think you?&rdquo; And eagerly and
+anxiously she fixed her bright blue eyes
+upon her grandmother&rsquo;s face.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Well,&rdquo; replied the old woman, &ldquo;the
+truth is just this, Maggie: I hear that
+the new landlord is going to make some
+changes among his tenants; the cottages
+are all to be repaired, and the folks who
+can pay higher rents will stay, while those
+who cannot must find lodging elsewhere.
+And how can we ever pay a higher rent,
+Maggie? Even now, every penny of poor
+Jack&rsquo;s earnings is spent at the end of the
+week, and yet we live as cheaply as ever
+we can.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>For a moment or two the girl&rsquo;s face was
+as perturbed and downcast as that of her
+grandmother&rsquo;s, and she bent over her
+knitting in silence; but by an evident
+effort she quickly assumed a more cheerful
+aspect. And advancing to the old
+lady&rsquo;s side, and placing a gentle hand on
+her shoulder, she said,&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Don&rsquo;t fret, dear grandmother; God
+has cared for us so far, and he will never
+suffer us to want, if we put our trust in
+him. That&rsquo;s what father used to say,
+and what he said up to the very day of
+his death.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>So saying, Maggie stooped and kissed
+the withered cheek of that father&rsquo;s mother,
+thereby enforcing, as it were, her encouraging
+words.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;God bless you, my child!&rdquo; sobbed
+the old woman, returning the kiss. &ldquo;You
+remind me of what I am too apt to forget.
+Yes, Maggie, your father&rsquo;s God is our
+God, and he will never forsake his people.
+I will wipe away these tears, and put faith
+in him for the future.&rdquo; And the grandmother
+dried her eyes, and rising from
+her low seat, said cheerfully, &ldquo;Maggie,
+dear, go to the gate, and watch for your
+brother Jack. When you see him coming
+across the field, let me know, and I will
+dish up the supper, so as to have it ready.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Maggie put down her work, and passing
+through the low doorway of the cottage,
+stood presently at the little gate that separated
+the tiny garden from the meadow
+of a neighboring farmer, who turned his
+cattle out there to graze.</p>
+
+<p>Opening the gate, Maggie leaned against
+it, while with one hand she shaded her
+eyes from the yet dazzling beams of the
+sinking sun, which bathed with its parting
+radiance the western horizon, and crimsoned
+the landscape around.</p>
+
+<p>A moment or two she thus stood, but
+Jack did not appear; and wondering why
+he should be so late, Maggie was about
+to retrace her steps in order to fetch her
+knitting, when, from that corner of the
+field which by a stile communicated with
+the landlord&rsquo;s grounds, she saw a little
+child emerge, dressed in a bright red
+frock and jacket, and running heedlessly
+along, nearer and nearer to the cattle,
+which hitherto had been grazing quietly
+in the centre of the field.</p>
+
+<p>Now, however, as the little one approached,
+directing her steps so as to
+pass them closely, they raised their heads,
+and a huge bull, the king and guardian of
+the herd, attracted doubtless and enraged
+by the color of the scarlet dress, bounded
+away from his companions, and with his
+savage head bent, and his tail raised, gave
+chase to the child, who, frightened at the
+bellowing of the angry beast, quickened
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_229" id="Page_229">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>229]</a></span>
+her pace, and fled screaming towards the
+cottage gate, at which Maggie was standing.
+But the utmost speed of which the
+little one was capable was nothing to the
+long gallop of the bull, and in the first
+moment that Maggie witnessed the child&rsquo;s
+danger, her quick presence of mind and
+tender heart resolved to do what many
+strong men, less self-forgetful, would not
+have dared to attempt.</p>
+
+<p>Tearing from her head a colored kerchief,
+which she had thrown over it before
+she came out, she sprang through the
+gateway into the meadow, and bounding
+lightly over the turf, in another minute
+she had placed herself between the fierce
+animal and the child. On in his headlong
+fury came the gigantic brute, and was
+about to pass Maggie, seeing only the
+scarlet frock just beyond, when the intrepid
+girl, springing forward, dashed the
+kerchief across his eyes, and before he
+had time to recover himself and recommence
+his pursuit, she had turned, snatched
+up the little one, and was running towards
+the cottage gate. Close behind the fugitives
+followed the bull, now recovered
+from his momentary astonishment; but
+Maggie&rsquo;s feet were winged, for she felt
+that through God&rsquo;s help she should
+save the child.</p>
+
+<p>A few more rapid steps, and the gate
+was reached and barred, while Maggie
+tottered into the house, still carrying the
+child, and in the reaction of the fearful
+excitement, fell fainting on the floor.</p>
+
+<p>Maggie&rsquo;s fainting fit, however, did not
+last long; and she was fully restored, and
+had told her grandmother the whole story,
+before Jack arrived, half an hour later.</p>
+
+<p>He, too, had something to recount.
+On his way home from the landlord&rsquo;s
+grounds, where he had been working, he
+was overtaken by a young woman, who
+seemed in a great state of alarm. She
+told Jack that she was the nursery maid,
+and that while that afternoon she was sitting
+at work beneath one of the trees, with
+the children playing around her, one of
+them&mdash;little Gertrude, a child about six
+years old&mdash;must have slipped away from
+her brother and sisters unobserved; and
+when tea time came, and the nurse rose
+to bring the children home, she was nowhere
+to be found. The nurse had taken
+the other three little ones home, and had
+now come in search of Gertrude, fearful
+lest she should fall into danger of any
+kind.</p>
+
+<p>Jack would not stop to eat his supper,
+after telling his own story and hearing
+Maggie&rsquo;s, but announced his intention of
+at once carrying the little truant lady back
+to her home.</p>
+
+<p>So the kind-hearted youth took Gertrude
+in his arms, and soon conveyed her
+safely to the landlord&rsquo;s house, where she
+astonished every one by the childish recital
+of her own danger and Maggie&rsquo;s
+courage.</p>
+
+<p>The next morning Gertrude&rsquo;s mother
+came down to the cottage to thank Maggie
+for the preservation of her darling&rsquo;s
+life, and to bring a message from her
+husband.</p>
+
+<p>This message consisted of his grateful
+acknowledgments, and of the promise that
+Jack should be promoted to the office of
+assistant gardener as soon as that post
+was vacant (which would be in the course
+of a few weeks). But, best of all, the
+promise included also this, namely, that
+the widow and her grandchildren should
+hold the cottage rent free for the remainder
+of their lives.</p>
+
+<p>Thus was averted, by means wholly
+unforeseen, the trial of poverty and want
+so dreaded by the old widow in her
+thoughts of the future; and never again
+was she heard to repine, or even to express
+a fear for herself or for those whom
+she loved.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_230" id="Page_230">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>230]</a></span></p>
+
+<h2>DECLAMATION&mdash;FAITHFUL UNTO DEATH;</h2>
+
+<p class="center">OR, THE SENTRY OF HERCULANEUM.<a name="FNanchor_B_2" id="FNanchor_B_2"></a><a href="#Footnote_B_2" class="fnanchor">[B]</a></p>
+
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p class="cap">DARK&rsquo;S the night, dun&rsquo;s the sky with smoke;<br />
+<span class="i3">Never more my guard they&rsquo;ll change;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Three hours ago I could crack my joke,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And now e&rsquo;en the thought seems strange.<br /></span></p>
+</div>
+
+<div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">&ldquo;Hark! the thunder bellows loud,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And the night&rsquo;s come down apace,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And the lava flame, through its sulphurous cloud,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Is ruddy on my face.<br /></span>
+</div>
+
+<div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">&ldquo;With a crash did yon temple fall;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">But ever, through all the din,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Shrill rose a death-wail o&rsquo;er all,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">The vestals&rsquo; screams within.<br /></span>
+</div>
+
+<div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">&ldquo;Men are running, away, away,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">With tight zones up yonder street;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But a soldier of Rome must stay<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">At his post, as seems him meet.<br /></span>
+</div>
+
+<div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">&ldquo;I remember my levying morn&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">I remember my sacred vow;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And I&rsquo;d hold it matter of scorn<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">In death&rsquo;s teeth to break it now.<br /></span>
+</div>
+
+<div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">&ldquo;Jove! lava is all around&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">It nears me with scorching breath;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">It hisses along the ground<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">To my feet, and the hiss means&mdash;death.<br /></span>
+</div>
+
+<div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">&ldquo;I&rsquo;ve fought as a soldier should<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">&rsquo;Neath many an alien sky,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And at home at my post I&rsquo;ve stood<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Amidst cowards, and now, to die.<br /></span>
+</div>
+
+<div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">&ldquo;Great Mars, give me heart of grace<br /></span>
+<span class="i1"><i>Triarii</i>,<a name="FNanchor_C_3" id="FNanchor_C_3"></a><a href="#Footnote_C_3" class="fnanchor">[C]</a> over the bowl<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Say, &lsquo;He died with a smile on his face,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And glory in his soul&rsquo;!&rdquo;<br /></span>
+</div>
+
+<p class="poet smcap">W. B. B. Stevens.</p>
+</div>
+
+<div class="footnotes"><h3>FOOTNOTES:</h3>
+
+<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_B_2" id="Footnote_B_2"></a><a href="#FNanchor_B_2"><span class="label">[B]</span></a>
+Overwhelmed, together with Pompeii, by a lava eruption, A.&nbsp;D. 79.</p></div>
+
+<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_C_3" id="Footnote_C_3"></a><a href="#FNanchor_C_3"><span class="label">[C]</span></a>
+The Roman <i>Triarii</i> were old soldiers, of approved valor, who formed the third line in a legion&mdash;hence
+their name.</p></div>
+</div>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_231" id="Page_231">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>231]</a></span></p>
+
+<div class="figcenter ipadtop" style="width: 362px;">
+<img src="images/hd090.jpg" width="362" height="600"
+alt="The sentry at Herculaneum stays at his post" />
+</div>
+
+<p class="caption">THE FAITHFUL SENTRY.</p>
+
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_232" id="Page_232">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>232]</a></span></p>
+
+<h2>VACATION.</h2>
+
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p class="cap">O, MASTER, no more of your lessons!<br />
+<span class="i4">For a season we bid them good by,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And turn to the manifold teachings<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Of ocean, and forest, and sky.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">We must plunge into billow and breaker;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">The fields we must ransack anew;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And again must the sombre woods echo<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">The glee of our merry-voiced crew.<br /></span></p>
+</div>
+
+<div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">From teacher&rsquo;s and preacher&rsquo;s dictation&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">From all the dreaded lore of the books&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Escaped from the thraldom of study,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">We turn to the babble of brooks;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">We hark to the field-minstrels&rsquo; music,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">The lowing of herds on the lea,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The surge of the winds in the forest,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">The roar of the storm-angered sea.<br /></span>
+</div>
+
+<div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">To the tree-tops we&rsquo;ll climb with the squirrels;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">We will race with the brooks in the glens;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The rabbits we&rsquo;ll chase to their burrows;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">The foxes we&rsquo;ll hunt to their dens;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The woodchucks, askulk in their caverns,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">We&rsquo;ll visit again and again;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And we&rsquo;ll peep into every bird&rsquo;s nest<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">The copses and meadows contain.<br /></span>
+</div>
+
+<div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">For us are the blackberries ripening<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">By many a moss-covered wall;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">There are bluehats enough in the thickets<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">To furnish a treat for us all;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">In the swamps there are ground-nuts in plenty;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">The sea-sands their titbits afford;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And, O, most delectable banquet,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">We will feast at the honey-bee&rsquo;s board!<br /></span>
+</div>
+
+<div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">O, comrades, the graybeards assure us<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">That life is a burden of cares;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">That the highways and byways of manhood<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Are fretted with pitfalls and snares.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Well, school-days have <em>their</em> tribulations;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Their troubles, as well as their joys.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Then give us vacation forever,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">If we must forever be boys!<br /></span>
+</div>
+
+<p class="poet smcap">Beverly Moore.</p>
+</div>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_233" id="Page_233">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>233]</a></span></p>
+
+<div class="figcenter ipadtop" style="width: 430px;">
+<img src="images/hd091.jpg" width="430" height="600"
+alt="The boys poke about in a brook, while the girls relax on the bank" />
+</div>
+
+<p class="caption smcap">&ldquo;Escaped from the thraldom of study,<br />
+We turn to the babble of brooks.&rdquo;</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_234" id="Page_234">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>234]</a></span></p>
+
+<h2>UNCLE JOHN&rsquo;S SCHOOL-DAYS.</h2>
+
+
+<p><span class="dropcap">T</span>HIS picture reminds me, children, of
+some funny stories that I have heard
+your uncle John tell, when he and I were
+boy and girl together, of his exploits as a
+schoolboy. According to his account,
+not only he, but most of his schoolfellows,
+used to lead merry lives enough at school.
+They had what they called the &ldquo;Academy
+Band,&rdquo; and grand music it made, with a
+hat-box for a drum, cricket-bat for violoncello,
+and paper flute and trumpets. You
+would not recognize Uncle John, whom
+you know only as a man six feet high, in
+that little lad on the left side of the picture
+with a battledore for a fiddle. They
+had a great deal of what he called excellent
+fun, though I am afraid it sometimes
+bordered upon mischief or naughtiness.
+I used to consider that he and his schoolfellows
+were regular heroes as I listened
+to his stories when he came home for the
+holidays; and even now I must confess
+I cannot help laughing when I think of
+some of his naughty pranks.</p>
+
+<p>Uncle John first went to a large school
+when he was eleven years old, and I remember
+now the tremendous hamper of
+good things he took with him. The boys
+who slept in his bedroom were so pleased
+with the contents of his hamper that they
+determined to make a great feast. To
+add to their enjoyment, they imagined
+themselves to be settlers in the backwoods
+of America or Australia. They
+built a log hut with bolsters, and had a
+sort of picnic. One of them mounted on
+the top of the log hut to look out with his
+telescope for any approaching savages,
+while the others enjoyed their suppers in
+and about the hut. When their fun was
+at its height, the door softly opened, and
+in walked Dr. Birchall, spectacles on
+nose and cane in hand. What followed
+may be imagined.</p>
+
+<p>You know that Uncle John is an engineer
+now, and even as a little boy he had
+a great turn for mechanical inventions.
+Well, he pondered over some means by
+which such a sudden interruption to the
+enjoyment of his schoolfellows might be
+prevented in future; and I will tell you
+what he did.</p>
+
+<p>It happened that the large room in
+which he slept formed the upper floor of
+a wing of the house which had been
+added to it when it became a school; and
+there was no access to this room from the
+principal staircase of the house. You had
+to pass through the room below and go
+up a little separate staircase to reach to
+the floor above. The lower room was
+also a bedroom for the boys, and Uncle
+John&rsquo;s little scheme was this:</p>
+
+<p>He made a hole with a gimlet in the
+frame of one of the windows of his bedroom,
+passed a piece of string through the
+hole, and carried it outside the wall of the
+house down to a similar hole in a window-frame
+of the room below. To the end of
+the string in the upper room was fastened
+a small rattle, while the other end of the
+string&mdash;that in the room below&mdash;was
+taken into the bed of a boy who slept
+near the window.</p>
+
+<p>This admirable little invention once in
+order, there was more rioting in the upper
+room than ever; and the master, disturbed
+by the noise, soon went, cane in hand, to
+stop it. The instant he set foot in the
+lower room the boy there who held the
+string in bed gave it a little pull: the
+rattle sounded&mdash;ting! ting!&mdash;in the room
+above, and in an instant every boy was
+in bed and snoring. Perhaps they had
+been playing at leap-frog the moment before,
+but as Dr. Birchall entered the room&mdash;and
+he crept up the staircase very
+quietly, that he might catch them unawares&mdash;he
+found some twenty boys lying
+in bed, seemingly sound asleep, though
+snoring unnaturally loud.</p>
+
+<p>The doctor was so disconcerted by this
+unexpected state of things that he retired
+at once, fancying perhaps that his ears
+had deceived him when he thought he
+had heard a noise in the room. The same
+thing happened two or three times; the
+doctor was puzzled, and the invention
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_235" id="Page_235"><!-- Illustration - THE ACADEMY BAND --></a></span>
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_236" id="Page_236">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>236]</a></span>
+appeared a complete success; but at last all
+was discovered.</p>
+
+<div class="figcenter ipadtop" style="width: 430px;">
+<img src="images/hd092.jpg" width="430" height="600"
+alt="The boys play their 'instruments' in the band" />
+</div>
+
+<p class="caption">THE ACADEMY BAND.</p>
+
+<p>The boys one evening began imprudently
+to play at &ldquo;tossing in the blanket&rdquo;
+before they were undressed. The rattle
+sounded, and they had just time to hide
+away the blanket. But the doctor coming
+in, and finding they were only then beginning
+to undress, knew they must have
+been at some mischief, and began questioning
+one after another. Unluckily,
+while he was in the room the rattle
+sounded again by accident; perhaps the
+boy in the room below had pulled the
+string by moving in bed. The doctor
+looked about, found the rattle hanging
+just below the window, saw the string,
+opened the window and traced its course
+outside, went down into the room below,
+and understood the whole arrangement.
+Then he put the rattle in his pocket and
+went away without saying a word. The
+boys declared he had such difficulty in
+keeping himself from laughing that he
+was afraid to speak lest he should burst
+out.</p>
+
+<p>However, next day every boy in that
+room had a slight punishment, and so the
+matter ended.</p>
+
+<p>Now I will tell you another of Uncle
+John&rsquo;s pranks at school. There was a
+large tree in the playground, the upper
+branches of which spread out very near
+to the windows of the bedroom I have
+been describing. One evening Uncle
+John got hold of a large hand-bell which
+was used for ringing the boys up in the
+morning; and climbing up the tree, he
+fastened it by a piece of string to a branch
+near the top. Then another boy threw
+him the end of a long string from a window
+of the bedroom into the tree, and he
+fastened it to the bell in such a way that
+when it was pulled in the bedroom it made
+the bell ring in the tree. Having accomplished
+this arrangement, he came down
+from the tree and went to bed.</p>
+
+<p>At ten o&rsquo;clock at night the household
+was disturbed by the loud ringing of this
+bell. The master, in his dressing-gown,
+came out into the playground, and soon
+discovered where the sound came from,
+but of course supposed that some boy had
+climbed up into the tree, and was ringing
+the bell there. It was the middle of
+summer, and a beautiful moonlight night,
+so the boys could see from the windows
+all that took place. Dr. Birchall stood
+at the foot of the tree, looking up, and
+exclaimed, angrily,</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Come down, you naughty boy! Come
+down, I say, directly! Oh, I&rsquo;ll give you
+such a flogging! Stop that horrible
+noise, I tell you, and come down!&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>The bell still went on ringing. At
+last the string&mdash;being pulled too hard,
+I suppose, in the excitement of the fun&mdash;broke,
+and the bell tumbled down from
+the top of the tree, falling very near the
+old schoolmaster. This was worse than
+all.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;What!&rdquo; he exclaimed; &ldquo;you throw the
+bell at me? Why, if it had hit me on the
+head, it might have killed me. Oh, you
+wicked boy! I&rsquo;ll expel you, sir. I&rsquo;ll find
+out who you are if I stop here till morning.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>At last, however, his patience was exhausted,
+and he went away, but left an
+old butler to watch the tree all night. The
+boys from the windows could see this man
+settle himself comfortably on a seat which
+was at the foot of the tree. He lighted
+his pipe, and prepared to carry out his
+master&rsquo;s orders and watch till daylight.
+By three o&rsquo;clock in the morning the dawn
+broke; then the man began to look up
+occasionally into the tree. Now and then
+he walked a little distance away, first in
+one direction, and then in another, to
+look into parts of the tree that he could
+not see from underneath. He kept this
+up till the sun had risen and it was broad
+daylight; then at last he became convinced
+that it was impossible there could
+be a boy in the tree. He walked slowly
+into the house, still smoking his pipe, with
+a puzzled expression on his face.</p>
+
+<p>And I suspect he was not the only person
+who felt puzzled. The next day the
+boys were going home for the holidays,
+so that no further inquiry could be made.
+I wonder if Dr. Birchall ever found out
+how it had been managed?</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_237" id="Page_237">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>237]</a></span></p>
+
+<div class="figcenter ipadtop" style="width: 532px;">
+<img src="images/hd093.jpg" width="532" height="400"
+alt="An English mastiff lying down, head on his paws" />
+</div>
+
+<p class="caption smcap">The English Mastiff.</p>
+
+<h2>FAITHFUL FRIENDS.</h2>
+
+
+<p><span class="dropcap">T</span>HE dog has sometimes been called
+the &ldquo;friend of man.&rdquo; This is because,
+of all animals, it is the one whose
+attachment to mankind is purely personal.
+It is found in almost every part of the
+world, sharing every variation of climate
+and outward lot with the human race.
+There are only a few groups of islands in
+the Southern Pacific Ocean where this
+valuable creature is wanting. Without
+its aid, how could men have procured
+sustenance among tribes to whom the
+art of tilling the land was not known? or
+how could they have resisted the attacks
+of the beasts of prey that roamed in the
+forests around them?</p>
+
+<p>Anecdotes of dogs, when they are well
+attested, are always welcome; and I will
+therefore relate a few.</p>
+
+<p>There were some time ago two families,
+one living in London, the other at Guildford,
+seventeen miles distant. These
+families were very friendly with each
+other, and for several years it was the
+custom of the one residing in London to
+pass the Christmas with the one at Guildford.
+It was the visitors&rsquo; uniform practice
+to arrive to dinner the day before Christmas
+day; and they were accompanied by
+a large spaniel, which was a great favorite
+with both families.</p>
+
+<p>These visits were thus regularly paid
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_238" id="Page_238">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>238]</a></span>
+for seven years. At the end of that time
+an unfortunate misunderstanding between
+the friends caused the usual Christmas
+invitation from the country to be omitted.
+About an hour before dinner, on the day
+before Christmas day, the Guildford gentleman,
+who was standing at his window,
+exclaimed to his wife,&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Well, my dear, the &mdash;&mdash;s have thought
+better of it. I declare they are coming
+as usual, though we did not invite them;
+here comes C&aelig;sar to announce them.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Sure enough, the dog came trotting up
+to the door, and was admitted, as he had
+often been before, to the parlor. The
+lady of the house gave orders to prepare
+beds; dinner waited an hour; but no
+guests arrived.</p>
+
+<p>C&aelig;sar, after staying the exact number
+of days to which he had been accustomed,
+one morning set off for home, and reached
+it in safety. The correspondence which
+this visit of the favorite spaniel occasioned,
+had the happy effect of renewing
+the intercourse of the estranged friends.
+As long as C&aelig;sar lived, he paid the annual
+visit, in company with his master and mistress,
+to Guildford.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;A Frenchman named Chabert, who,
+from his wonderful performances with
+fire, was known as the &lsquo;Fire King,&rsquo; was
+the owner of a very beautiful Siberian
+dog, which, when yoked to a light carriage,
+used to draw him twenty miles a
+day. Chabert sold him for nearly two
+hundred pounds; for the creature was as
+docile as he was beautiful. Between the
+sale and the delivery, the dog happened
+to get his leg broken. Chabert, to whom
+the money was of great importance, was
+almost in despair, expecting that the lamed
+animal would be returned, and the price
+demanded back. He took the dog by
+night to a veterinary surgeon, and formally
+introduced them to each other.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;&lsquo;Doctor, my dog; my dog, your doctor.&rsquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;He next talked to the dog, pointed to
+his own leg, limped around the room, and
+then requested the surgeon to apply bandages
+to his leg; after which he walked
+about the room sound and well. Chabert
+then patted the dog on the head, who was
+looking by turns at him and the surgeon;
+desired the surgeon to pat him, and to
+offer him his hand to lick; and lastly,
+holding up his finger to the dog, and
+gently shaking his head, quitted the room
+and the house. The dog immediately
+laid himself down, submitted to have the
+fracture set, and to have a bandage put
+on the limb, without a motion beyond once
+or twice licking the operator&rsquo;s hand. He
+was afterwards submissive, and lay all but
+motionless day after day, until, at the end
+of a month, the limb was sound and whole
+once more. So perfect was the cure, that
+the purchaser never knew the dog had
+sustained any injury.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>I will finish my paper with a story of a
+dog that saved the life of a French soldier
+who was wounded in one of the terrible
+battles that have been lately fought
+in France:&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;The man had been struck by a ball
+in the chest, near the village of Ham, and
+lay on the ground for six hours after the
+fighting was over. He had not lost consciousness;
+but the blood was flowing
+freely, and he was gradually getting weaker
+and weaker. There were none but the
+dead near him; and his only living companion
+was an English terrier, which ran
+restlessly about him, with his master&rsquo;s
+<i>kepi</i>, or military cap, in his mouth.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;At last the dog set off at a trot; and
+the wounded soldier made sure that now
+his last friend had deserted him. The
+night grew dark, the cold was intense,
+and he had not even the strength to touch
+his wounds, which every instant grew
+more and more painful.</p>
+
+<div class="figcenter ipadboth" style="width: 340px;">
+<img src="images/hd094.jpg" width="340" height="400"
+alt="The terrier, carrying a kepi, tries to get help for his master" />
+</div>
+
+<p>&ldquo;At length his limbs grew cold, and,
+feeling a sickly faintness steal upon him,
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_239" id="Page_239">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>239]</a></span>
+he gave up all hope of life, and recommended
+himself to the mercy of God.
+Suddenly he heard a bark, which he
+knew belonged to only one little dog in
+the world, then felt something lick his
+face, and saw the glare of lanterns. The
+dog had wandered for miles till he arrived
+at a road-side <i>cabaret</i>, or country wine-shop.
+The people had heard the cannonading
+all day, and seeing the <i>kepi</i> in the
+dog&rsquo;s mouth, and noticing his restless
+movements, decided to follow him. He
+took them straight to the spot&mdash;too
+straight for a little cart they had brought
+with them to cross fields and hedges&mdash;but
+just in time. When the friendly help
+arrived, the man fainted; but he was
+saved. There were honest tears in the
+man&rsquo;s eyes when he was telling me,&rdquo; says
+the narrator; &ldquo;and I fully believed him.
+The dog, too, had been slightly touched
+in the leg by a ball in the same battle,
+and has since been lame. He got him,
+when a puppy, from an English sailor at
+Dunkirk, and called him &lsquo;Beel;&rsquo; very
+probably the French for Bill.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>This little terrier showed something
+more than instinct&mdash;some share, at least,
+of common sense. At all events, he deserves
+to be immortalized; so here you
+have his portrait, with the cap in his
+mouth, begging the people whom he has
+found in the way-side inn to come to the
+help of his wounded master.</p>
+
+<p class="sig">X.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_240" id="Page_240">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>240]</a></span></p>
+
+<div class="figcenter ipadtop" style="width: 405px;">
+<img src="images/hd095.jpg" width="405" height="600"
+alt="The Erl-King reaches out for the rider and his child" />
+</div>
+
+<p class="caption">THE ERL-KING.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_241" id="Page_241">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>241]</a></span></p>
+
+<div class="figcenter ipadboth" style="width: 500px;">
+<img src="images/hd096.jpg" width="500" height="166"
+alt="Flowers" />
+</div>
+
+<h2>THE ERL KING.</h2>
+
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p class="cap">WHO rideth so late through the night-wind wild?<br />
+<span class="i4">It is the father with his child;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">He has the little one well in his arm,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">He holds him safe, and he folds him warm.<br /></span></p>
+</div>
+
+<div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">&ldquo;My son, why hidest thy face so shy?&rdquo;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">&ldquo;Seest thou not, father, the Erl King nigh?<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The Erlen King, with train and crown?&rdquo;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">&ldquo;It is a wreath of mist, my son.&rdquo;<br /></span>
+</div>
+
+<div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">&ldquo;Come, lovely boy, come go with me;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Such merry plays I will play with thee!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Many a bright flower grows on the strand,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And my mother has many a gay garment at hand.&rdquo;<br /></span>
+</div>
+
+<div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">&ldquo;My father, my father, and dost thou not hear<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">What the Erl King whispers in my ear?&rdquo;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">&ldquo;Be quiet, my darling, be quiet, my child;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Through withered leaves the wind howls wild.&rdquo;<br /></span>
+</div>
+
+<div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">&ldquo;Come, lovely boy, wilt thou go with me?<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">My daughters fair shall wait on thee,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">My daughters their nightly revels keep,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">They&rsquo;ll sing, and they&rsquo;ll dance, and they&rsquo;ll rock thee to sleep.&rdquo;<br /></span>
+</div>
+
+<div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">&ldquo;My father, my father, and seest thou not<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The Erl King&rsquo;s daughters in yon dim spot?&rdquo;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">&ldquo;My son, my son, I see, and I know<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">&rsquo;Tis the old gray willow that shimmers so.&rdquo;<br /></span>
+</div>
+
+<div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">&ldquo;I love thee; thy beauty has ravished my sense;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And willing or not, I will carry thee hence.&rdquo;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">&ldquo;O, father, the Erl King now puts forth his arm&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">O, father, the Erl King has done me harm.&rdquo;<br /></span>
+</div>
+
+<div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">The father shudders, he hurries on;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And faster he holds his moaning son;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">He reaches his home with fear and dread,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And lo! in his arms the child was dead.<br /></span>
+</div>
+
+<p class="poet"><i>From the German of Goethe.</i></p>
+</div>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_242" id="Page_242">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>242]</a></span></p>
+
+<h2>THE SILLY YOUNG RABBIT.</h2>
+
+<p class="center">TRANSLATED FROM THE GERMAN.</p>
+
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p class="cap">THERE was a young rabbit<br />
+<span class="i3">Who had a bad habit&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Sometimes he would do what his mother forbid.<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">And one frosty day,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">His mother did say,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">&ldquo;My child you must stay in the burrow close hid;<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">For I hear the dread sounds<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Of huntsmen and hounds,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Who are searching around for rabbits like you;<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Should they see but your head,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">They would soon shoot you dead,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And the dogs would be off with you quicker than boo!&rdquo;<br /></span></p>
+</div>
+
+<div class="stanza">
+<span class="i2">But, poor foolish being!<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">When no one was seeing,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Looking out from his burrow to take a short play,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">He hopped o&rsquo;er the ground<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">With many a bound,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And looked around proudly, as if he would say,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Do I fear a man?<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Now catch me who can!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">So this young rabbit ran to a fine apple tree,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Where, gnawing the bark,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">He thought not to hark<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The coming of hunters, so careless was he.<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Now, as rabbits are good<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">When roasted or stewed,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">A man came along hunting rabbits for dinner;<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">He saw little bun,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Then raised his big gun,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And there he lay dead, the foolish young sinner.<br /></span>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_243" id="Page_243">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>243]</a></span></p>
+
+<div class="figcenter ipadtop" style="width: 600px;">
+<img src="images/hd097.jpg" width="600" height="450"
+alt="A rabbit eating a leaf" />
+</div>
+
+<p class="caption">THE SILLY RABBIT.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_244" id="Page_244">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>244]</a></span></p>
+
+<h2>NINO.</h2>
+
+
+<p><span class="dropcap">T</span>HE rain was just beginning to fall
+in a thin, chilling drizzle, and the
+cold air nipped sharply any unwary toe
+that showed itself, as Nino played a little
+air full of thoughts of birds and flowers.
+His thin jacket was no protection, and
+his dark eyes looked as if a shower might
+drop from them; but the clouds had been
+over his life too long, and there were no
+tears left to fall. He was not so old that
+this must be the case; but he stood alone
+in the wide street, and no one spoke to or
+noticed him. One friend he had&mdash;his
+guitar; and now he put that under his
+jacket, lest the rain should hurt it.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;<i>Ah, carissima!</i>&rdquo; he murmured, as he
+hugged it under his arm; &ldquo;you are never
+hungry or tired, and you shall not be wet.
+One of us shall be happy.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>The guitar gave a little whisper as his
+jacket rubbed against it, and Nino smiled
+and nodded in answer. Now the rain was
+falling rapidly, and he stepped under an
+awning, to wait until it held up. There
+was a lady standing there, her skirts held
+high, and her cloak drawn closely, and
+Nino stood one side; for why should he
+be near any one? He well knew no one
+wanted him. He watched the water run
+by in the gutter, and looked into the barrel
+of apples at his side&mdash;large, rosy
+apples, that would be so good; and he
+glanced up to see if any one saw him.
+Why not take one? He could hide it,
+and eat it afterwards. The grocer had so
+many; he had none, and it was days since
+he had eaten anything but dry bread. He
+knew it was not right to take what belonged
+to another; but he heard so little
+of right, and hunger and want pressed
+him every day.</p>
+
+<p>As he stood thinking, not quite resolved
+to take one, there was a patter of little
+feet, a merry laugh, and a bright vision
+stood by his side.</p>
+
+<p>Was she a fairy? She looked as he
+always felt his guitar would look if it
+could take a human form&mdash;slender, active,
+fair. A shower of golden hair, not
+pale, but bright, like the summer sun;
+eyes as deep and blue as the distant sky;
+a face of which one would dream. Nino
+held his breath, and as the blue velvet
+coat brushed his ragged arm, drew a sigh,
+and stepped back.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Did I frighten you, little boy?&rdquo; asked
+the child. &ldquo;It was raining so hard, and
+nursey had to run.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Come, stand in here, where it does not
+drip,&rdquo; cried the nurse, drawing her away.</p>
+
+<p>Nino peeped under his coat, to be sure
+his guitar had not been transformed, and
+then stepped aside under the eaves. It
+seemed as if he ought to be wet when
+such a lovely being was obliged to endure
+the discomfort of standing there. As she
+chattered, he drew near again, and wondered
+whether angels did not look like
+that. She was certainly more beautiful
+than those in churches. He had forgotten
+that he was cold, and was feeling very
+happy, when the intentness of his gaze
+attracted the child&rsquo;s attention. She was
+whispering to her nurse, when a harsh
+voice cried out,&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Boy, go away from there! I can&rsquo;t
+watch those apples all the time.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Nino had thoughtlessly laid his hand
+on the barrel, and when the grocer spoke,
+moved hastily away.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Here, little boy,&rdquo; cried the silvery
+tones of the child; &ldquo;don&rsquo;t go; I want to
+give you an apple.&rdquo; Then she said to the
+grocer, &ldquo;A big one, please.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Yes, miss; I did not notice you were
+there; but those boys are so bad!&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_245" id="Page_245">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>245]</a></span>
+Nino&rsquo;s face flushed, and his eyes glittered;
+but when the child handed him
+the apple, he smiled, touched his hat, and
+said,&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Thankee, little lady.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>As he walked away, he did not notice
+the falling drops, but laid his cheek against
+the apple, and smoothed its plump rosiness
+before he tasted its rich juiciness.</p>
+
+<p>Nino had no associates among the rough
+boys in the streets; he had a pride that
+kept him above their coarse ways. As he
+played and sang the songs he learned in
+Italy, dim memories of a better life came
+to him, and his music seemed a holy spirit.
+He would have died but for that, his life
+was so cold, hard, and bare.</p>
+
+<p>He had been brought over by a sea
+captain, who dealt in boys; and as he
+was very ill on the voyage, the captain let
+an old woman take him for a small sum.
+She thought his thin, sad face would move
+the passers, and in pity they would give
+him money. For this reason she sent him
+out day after day, in storm or shine, ill
+clad and weary, giving him but little food.
+But nature helped him. In spite of this
+treatment, he became stronger, and after
+a time ran away from her. Then he joined
+himself to a party of boy musicians, and
+by their help got his guitar. But they
+were unkind to him; for he was yet weak
+and timid, and the leader, a large boy,
+sometimes beat him if he refused to play.
+One night Nino ran away from them, his
+precious guitar under his arm; and since
+then he had played and sung through the
+streets, sometimes begging, sometimes in
+despair, with thoughts of stealing.</p>
+
+<p>His chief delight and comfort was to lie
+in the sun on a fair day. He was always
+hungry, almost always cold, and when the
+wind did not blow, and the sun was hot,
+he liked to bask on a step, and dream of
+good dinners, pretty clothes, and a soft
+bed. The sun was the only thing he could
+find in the cold northern climate which
+was like his old home. In this way he
+would be nearly happy; but when storms
+came, he was chilled within and without.
+The world then was gray; he could not
+even play on his guitar, which in sunny
+days brought him pleasant pictures of
+green fields, dancing water, and leafy
+vines, loaded with purple grapes.</p>
+
+<p>His guitar was his only companion, and
+he treated it as if it was alive; he talked
+to it, cared for and loved it with a tenderness
+which was of no value to the instrument,
+but was of service to the friendless
+boy, in giving him an unselfish motive.</p>
+
+<p>The autumn was fast advancing when
+he met the golden-haired child; and as
+the days became colder, he cherished the
+thought of her, and it made him warm
+when the sky was cloudy, as if she was a
+ray of sunlight. He had generally slept
+on steps or any spot where the police
+would leave him unmolested; but now
+the nights were so chill, that he tried hard
+with a few cents to pay for a lodging.</p>
+
+<p>With this purpose in his mind, he
+stopped before a house in a private street
+one evening just after dark. The gas was
+already lighted; but the curtains were not
+drawn, and Nino could see the table bountifully
+spread, and a servant moving about,
+adding various articles to it. A dancing
+figure passed and repassed the window,
+now peeping out, and again running back.
+Nino&rsquo;s voice trembled as he saw this light
+and warmth; and as he sang of &ldquo;love
+and knightly deeds,&rdquo; he thought of himself
+out in the cold, with nothing to love
+but his guitar, and he felt very sad.</p>
+
+<p>In a moment the door opened, and out
+sprang the child he had thought of so
+long. The light seemed to follow her,
+and she cried,&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Here are some pennies.&rdquo; Nino removed
+his ragged hat, and held it out,
+and she said, &ldquo;O, you&rsquo;re the same little
+boy! Wait a minute, and I&rsquo;ll get you a
+cake.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_246" id="Page_246">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>246]</a></span></p>
+
+<div class="figcenter ipadtop" style="width: 421px;">
+<img src="images/hd098.jpg" width="421" height="600"
+alt="Nino sings and plays guitar" />
+</div>
+
+<p class="caption">NINO.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_247" id="Page_247">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>247]</a></span>
+Nino stood with his hat off until she
+returned and gave him a cake.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;You play such pretty tunes! and I
+know you now; for I&rsquo;ve seen you twice,&rdquo;
+she said, folding her hands, and looking
+at him.</p>
+
+<p>Nino murmured,&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Thankee, pretty lady,&rdquo; and looked at
+her as if she was a being from another
+world.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;What is your name?&rdquo; she asked.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Nino.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Come, darling; don&rsquo;t stand out there,&rdquo;
+called her mother from the house.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;My name&rsquo;s Viola. Good by,&rdquo; she
+cried, as she ran in.</p>
+
+<p>Nino sang one more song, and then
+kissing his hand to the little form at the
+window, went on his way happy. The
+money brought him a night&rsquo;s lodging and
+permission to leave his guitar. In the
+morning&mdash;for the following day was Sunday,
+and if he carried it with him, the
+police might arrest him for trying to play&mdash;he
+made a light breakfast on a roll,
+and went to the street where Viola lived,
+to see if he could meet her. As the bells
+were ringing, she came down the steps
+with her parents, and Nino followed at a
+respectful distance, until they went into
+church. Nino attempted to go in also;
+but the sombre sexton at the door frightened
+him with a severe look, and he
+wandered on. After a time he came to a
+mission church, where, by a sign, all were
+invited to enter. Taking a back seat, and
+trying to understand the preacher, he fell
+asleep. When he awoke, the preacher
+was gone; but the room was full of ragged
+children, and for the first time Nino found
+himself in a Sunday school.</p>
+
+<p>The teacher nearest to him was a sweet-faced
+lady, who spoke gently to the boys
+of being kind to others, and patient with
+those who had not the chance to learn
+that they had; she told them stories, to
+show them how kindness would return to
+them, and how happy it made them to
+have others gentle with them. Nino listened,
+and thought of Viola; and when
+all sang some hymns while a lady played
+the piano, a new life stirred in him.</p>
+
+<p>When the services were over, the teacher
+gave him a paper, and asked him to
+come again. He sat on the steps after all
+were gone, looking at the pictures, and
+when he returned to his lodging went
+around by Viola&rsquo;s house, and was rewarded
+by seeing her sitting in the window
+with a book. When he reached the
+wretched place where he had spent the
+night, and looked for his guitar, he could
+not find it. Asking the woman about it,
+she said she was cleaning up, and it was
+somewhere on the floor. Nino&rsquo;s heart
+began to swell, and when he found it in
+one corner, snapped and broken, his grief
+and anger burst forth in a volley of Italian.
+He hugged it, and sobbed over it, called
+the woman a beast, and pointed to the ruin
+of his favorite in angry despair.</p>
+
+<p>In the midst of this tumult of feeling
+the paper he had received dropped out of
+his bosom, and striking his feet, recalled
+the teacher&rsquo;s words and Viola sitting quietly
+by the window. Nino stopped, and
+for a moment was silent, then saying,
+&ldquo;You didn&rsquo;t mean to,&rdquo; picked up the
+paper, folded his jacket over the guitar,
+and left the house. His anger had vanished;
+but his grief remained. He spent
+the evening in tears and wretchedness, alternately
+gazing at his guitar, stroking it,
+and then giving way to passionate crying.
+At last he slept, curled up in one corner,
+and in the morning awoke with a cough
+which hurt his side.</p>
+
+<p>Now he had only his singing to depend
+on; he had not been taught any useful
+employment, and did not know how to
+work. He wandered about in the most
+disconsolate manner, his cough getting
+worse, and his grief for his guitar, which
+he always carried with him, still tormenting
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_248" id="Page_248">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>248]</a></span>
+him. Sometimes, when people saw
+the poor boy crouching in a corner, hugging
+a broken guitar, and crying bitterly,
+they would give him a few cents. He
+would not beg; something held him back,
+and the thought of Viola would not let
+him steal.</p>
+
+<p>On the Saturday after he had been to
+Sunday school, as he was sitting on a
+step, sadly thinking, he saw Viola and her
+nurse crossing the street towards him.
+At that moment a carriage with wildly
+running horses turned the corner. Men
+on the sidewalk shouted and waved their
+arms. Viola, confused by their cries,
+turned back, and the horses, startled,
+dashed in the same direction. Nino threw
+aside his guitar, and sprang forward, drew
+Viola out of danger, but fell himself, and
+the carriage passed over his foot, crushing
+it, while in falling he hit his head against
+the pavement, and lay insensible. Some of
+the men ran after the horses, some helped
+the nurse carry Viola home,&mdash;for she was
+crying and trembling with fright,&mdash;and a
+policeman took Nino away.</p>
+
+<p>When Viola was restored, she began to
+ask for Nino.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;It was Nino, mamma, and I want to
+see him,&rdquo; was her constant cry.</p>
+
+<p>Her father and mother were also anxious
+to reward the brave boy who had
+saved their only child, and made many
+inquiries to find him. The policeman had
+taken him to the station-house, and there
+no one remembered anything about him.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;There are so many of those children
+brought in, madam, you have no idea.
+We don&rsquo;t pretend to keep track of them
+all,&rdquo; was the only information they could
+get.</p>
+
+<p>At last they were obliged to give up
+their search; but Viola was much dissatisfied.</p>
+
+<p>About a week after the accident Viola&rsquo;s
+mother was invited by a lady friend to
+visit one of the city hospitals. She took
+Viola with her, and as they walked by the
+white beds, the child held her mother&rsquo;s
+hand tightly, and felt quite subdued at
+the pale, sick faces about her. But suddenly
+she bounded away, and climbing on
+a little bed, cried,&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;O, I&rsquo;ve found him! here he is&mdash;my
+dear Nino.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Nino&mdash;for it was he&mdash;shrank back
+into his pillows, and covering his face with
+his hands, cried aloud. From the station-house
+he had been taken to the hospital,
+where his foot had to be amputated, and
+he had lain for several days, with a bandaged
+head, in great pain. His guitar was
+lost, and he had been so lonely, though
+the nurses were kind, that at the sight of
+Viola his fortitude gave way.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Don&rsquo;t cry, and don&rsquo;t be frightened,&rdquo;
+said Viola, kissing him, and taking her
+handkerchief to wipe his tears. &ldquo;I love
+you, dear Nino, and now I&rsquo;ve found you.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Is this your Nino, Viola?&rdquo; asked her
+mother, while the nurses and other patients
+looked on with surprise.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Yes, mamma; is he not pretty?&rdquo; and
+she tried to remove his hands.</p>
+
+<p>When he was a little more composed,
+Viola&rsquo;s mother thanked and praised him
+for saving her daughter&rsquo;s life, and persuaded
+him to tell her what he knew about
+himself. And the nurses told how patient
+he had been, and she gave him some fruit,
+and promised to come again. When Viola
+bade him good by, she put her arms about
+his neck and kissed him, and they left him
+quite happy.</p>
+
+<p>A few days after they came again, and
+Viola cried when she saw him.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;You are going to come and live with
+us, and be my brother.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;If you would like to,&rdquo; said her mother;
+and Nino&rsquo;s eyes sparkled with joy at
+the thought.</p>
+
+<p>Then he was carefully laid in the carriage,
+and taken to his beautiful new
+home. More than he had ever dreamed,
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_249" id="Page_249">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>249]</a></span>
+or fancied, came to him&mdash;books, pictures,
+toys, kind care, love, and a fine new guitar,
+with the promise of learning to play it
+better. An artificial foot was to help him
+walk, and the wonders and delights of his
+home ever multiplied.</p>
+
+<p>Best of all was his sister Viola. He
+almost worshipped her; and it was a long
+time before he could bring himself to treat
+her with any familiarity. When she caressed
+him, which was often,&mdash;for she
+loved him dearly, and he was a lovable
+boy,&mdash;he always kissed her hands. One
+day she shook her head at this, and said,&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Nino, that is not the way; kiss me
+good;&rdquo; and she turned her face, with its
+rosy mouth, towards him.</p>
+
+<p>With reverence, as if he was saluting a
+queen, Nino leaned towards her, and then
+with a sudden impulse, caught her in his
+arms, and kissed her heartily. That was
+the seal of their affection, and from that
+time Nino assumed all a brother&rsquo;s pride,
+care, and tenderness. After he had recovered,
+they were constantly together,
+and their mother was never so content as
+when Nino had the charge of Viola. He
+never spared himself to serve her, and
+she was ever an impulse to goodness and
+truth, shining before him like a star, as
+she had from the first time he saw her.
+And she clung to him with the same love
+she had first felt, proud of her brother,
+who developed a noble character; and
+they all learned to thank the accident which
+had brought them so happily together.</p>
+
+<p class="sig smcap">Sara Conant.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+
+<h2><a name="Page_249lower" id="Page_249lower"></a>COMMON THINGS.</h2>
+
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p class="cap">THE sunshine is a glorious thing,<br />
+<span class="i3">That comes alike to all,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Lighting the peasant&rsquo;s lowly cot,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">The noble&rsquo;s painted hall.<br /></span></p>
+</div>
+
+<div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">The moonlight is a gentle thing;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">It through the window gleams<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Upon the snowy pillow where<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">The happy infant dreams;<br /></span>
+</div>
+
+<div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">It shines upon the fisher&rsquo;s boat<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Out on the lovely sea,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Or where the little lambkins lie<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Beneath the old oak tree.<br /></span>
+</div>
+
+<div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">The dewdrops on the summer morn<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Sparkle upon the grass;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The village children brush them off,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">That through the meadows pass.<br /></span>
+</div>
+
+<div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">There are no gems in monarchs&rsquo; crowns<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">More beautiful than they;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And yet we scarcely notice them,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">But tread them off in play.<br /></span>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_250" id="Page_250">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>250]</a></span></p>
+
+<div class="figcenter ipadtop" style="width: 426px;">
+<img src="images/hd099.jpg" width="426" height="600"
+alt="Sally hanging a sock on a line in the kitchen" />
+</div>
+
+<p class="caption">SALLY SUNBEAM.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_251" id="Page_251">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>251]</a></span></p>
+
+<h2>SALLY SUNBEAM.</h2>
+
+
+<p><span class="dropcap">T</span>HIS is not her real name. Her real
+name is Sally Brown. Why, then,
+have I called her Sally Sunbeam? Why,
+because everybody else calls her so.</p>
+
+<p>The reason is this: she is such a
+pleasant, happy, kind, sweet-tempered
+child that wherever she comes she comes
+like a sunbeam, gladdening and brightening
+all around her. It was her uncle
+Tom who first gave her her new name.
+He was spending a few days with the
+family for the first time for some years,
+for he lived a long way off and had not
+seen Sally since she was a baby. Sally
+became very fond of him at once, and
+so did he of Sally. As soon as he came
+down of a morning, there was Sally with
+her merry, laughing eyes to greet him.
+Whatever he wanted done, there was
+Sally with her ready willingness to do
+it for him. Wherever he went, there
+was Sally with her merry chat and her
+pleased and happy face to keep him
+company.</p>
+
+<p>And when the evening came, and
+Sally, with an affectionate kiss, had
+bidden him good-night and gone away
+to bed, he felt as though a cloud had
+cast its shadow over the house. So one
+morning, when Uncle Tom was going
+out for a walk and wanted Sally to go
+with him, he said, &ldquo;Where is my little
+sunbeam? Sally Sunbeam, where are
+you? Oh, here you are!&rdquo; laughing
+as she came skipping in from the
+garden.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;But my name is not Sally Sunbeam,
+uncle,&rdquo; she said. &ldquo;My name is Sally
+Brown.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Her mamma smiled. &ldquo;It is only your
+uncle&rsquo;s fun,&rdquo; she said.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Well, it is only my fun,&rdquo; said Uncle
+Tom. &ldquo;But it&rsquo;s a very proper name for
+her, for all that. She is more like a sunbeam
+than anything else. So come along,
+Sally Sunbeam. Let us go and have a
+nice walk.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>And from that time Uncle Tom never
+called her by any other name. And other
+people came to call her by it too, and
+everybody felt that it was as true and
+fitting a name for her as ever a child
+could have.</p>
+
+<p>Here she is in our picture, hanging
+up her doll&rsquo;s clothes, that she has just
+washed. How bright and happy she
+looks! Uncle Tom may well call her
+Sally Sunbeam. But it is not only her
+cheerfulness and playfulness that makes
+her worthy of her name. This, of itself,
+would not be sufficient to make her loved
+as she is loved. Oh no! It is the kindness
+of her heart, the gentleness of her
+disposition, the delight she takes in trying
+to make everybody happy. This is
+what makes everybody love her.</p>
+
+<p>Only the other day a group of several
+children passed the garden gate on their
+way from school. There was one poor
+little thing amongst them whose dress was
+so shabby and whose shoes were so bad
+as to make it evident that her parents
+must be very, very poor.</p>
+
+<p>Sad to say, her schoolfellows were
+jeering her and teasing her about her
+appearance. One of these especially
+was taunting her very cruelly, and the
+poor child was crying. Sally ran out
+to her, and putting her arm lovingly
+round her said,</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;What is the matter, dear? What do
+you cry for?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_252" id="Page_252">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>252]</a></span>
+&ldquo;Because they keep on laughing at
+me so,&rdquo; sobbed the child.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Well, who can help laughing at
+her?&rdquo; cried the girl who had been teasing
+her the most. &ldquo;Look at her shoes!
+Do you call those shoes?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>And at this the children all burst out
+laughing afresh.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;You ought to be ashamed of yourselves,&rdquo;
+said Sally, &ldquo;to laugh at the poor
+child and make her cry. It is very cruel
+of you. Suppose <em>you</em> could not get good
+shoes, how would <em>you</em> like to be laughed
+at?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>And there was something so serious
+and pitying in her tone that the children
+<em>were</em> ashamed of themselves, and went
+off without saying another word.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Never mind what they say,&rdquo; said
+Sally to the child. &ldquo;Come into my
+garden till they have gone right away.
+There! sit down on that seat for a minute,&rdquo;
+she said, leading her to one. &ldquo;I
+will be back again directly.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>And she ran to her mamma, and in a
+great hurry told her all about it, and when
+the story was finished said, &ldquo;I&rsquo;ve got a
+boxful of money, mamma, that I have
+saved to buy toys with. May I buy the
+little girl a pair of new boots with it?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I must go and speak to her first,&rdquo; said
+her mamma.</p>
+
+<p>So Sally&rsquo;s mamma came to the child
+and asked her a few questions, and found
+that the little thing had no father, and that
+her mother was ill, and that she had several
+brothers and sisters, and the good lady
+judged from all this how poor they must
+be.</p>
+
+<p>Having satisfied herself that the child&rsquo;s
+mother was not likely to be offended by
+the gift of a pair of boots to her little one,
+she said, &ldquo;My little daughter here would
+like to buy you a new pair of boots. Would
+you like to have a pair?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Buy <em>me</em> a new pair of boots!&rdquo; said the
+child, with a look of astonishment. &ldquo;Oh,
+but they&rsquo;ll cost a lot of money. Mother
+has been going to buy me some for ever
+so long, only she hasn&rsquo;t been able to get
+money enough.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;But I&rsquo;ve got ever so much money that
+I was going to buy toys with,&rdquo; said Sally,
+&ldquo;only I would rather buy you a pair of
+boots if you would let me. And then
+those naughty girls won&rsquo;t be able to
+tease you about your shoes any more,
+you know. So come along, and we&rsquo;ll
+buy them at once. May we, mamma?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Yes, if you like.&rdquo; And away they
+all went together to the bootmaker&rsquo;s, and
+the money that Sally had thought to buy
+herself all sorts of toys with was expended
+upon a nice warm pair of boots for the
+stranger-child.</p>
+
+<p>Don&rsquo;t you think that Sally must have
+seemed like a sunbeam to that poor little
+one?</p>
+
+<p>But this is only one of the instances
+of her kindness and sympathy and goodness
+of heart. She has learned of Him
+who all his life &ldquo;went about doing
+good,&rdquo; and every day tries to follow his
+blessed example. She has her faults, of
+course, like the rest of us, and these she
+has to fight against. But it is her virtues,
+not her faults, that she is known by&mdash;her
+brightness, her good temper, her sweetness
+of disposition, her kindness, her
+unselfishness; and this is how it is that
+everybody agrees to call her Sally Sunbeam
+instead of Sally Brown.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_253" id="Page_253">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>253]</a></span></p>
+
+<div class="figcenter ipadboth" style="width: 574px;">
+<img src="images/hd100.jpg" width="574" height="400"
+alt="A monkey is in the window behind Aunt Thankful" />
+</div>
+
+<h2>AUNT THANKFUL.</h2>
+
+
+<p><span class="dropcap">S</span>HE was our school teacher, a little
+bit of a woman, hardly larger than a
+good-sized doll. She had moved into our
+village years before I was born; for so I
+heard the folks say, I don&rsquo;t know how
+many times. Nobody seemed to know
+where she came from. She had no relatives&mdash;at
+least, none called to see her or
+to visit her. Once or twice, as I grew
+older, I heard dark hints whispered about
+Aunt Thankful, about her having left her
+early home to get away from unpleasant
+memories, but no whisper against her
+character. She was a good woman, a
+Christian woman&mdash;only the people called
+her <em>odd</em>.</p>
+
+<p>But everybody loved her. In sickness
+or health, in trouble or joy, in prosperity
+or adversity, everybody was sure they
+could depend upon assistance and sympathy,
+if needed, from Aunt Thankful.
+She was always ready to extend her helping
+hand, always ready to do a generous
+act. She was ever true to herself as well
+as to her neighbors. Perhaps that was
+the reason why the world called her <em>odd</em>.
+If so, how earnestly I wish there were a
+great many more odd folks!</p>
+
+<p>Aunt Thankful lived many years in the
+village before she began to keep school.
+I remember how funny she used to look
+as she came down the street towards the
+school-house. She was so small that I
+should not have been astonished to see
+her driving a hoop to school.</p>
+
+<p>Then she wore her spectacles in such
+a funny way! What use they were to her,
+I never could discover. If she looked
+at the scholars in the school-house, she
+looked <em>over</em> the glasses; if she was reading
+or writing, she looked <em>under</em> them.
+I have often heard boys, who were considered
+truthful, declare that on no occasion
+was she ever known to look <em>through</em> them.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_254" id="Page_254">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>254]</a></span>
+But what made Aunt Thankful so popular
+with the children was her kind manner
+and her kinder words. Somehow or
+other she used to like the poor and the
+friendless children the best. That was
+quite a puzzle to me at first. We usually
+pay most attention to such as are well off,
+and prosperous, and dressed nicely. But
+not so was it with Aunt Thankful. She
+took sides always with the weak and the
+down-trodden. I have seen her mend
+many an apron, many a torn dress worn
+by a poor scholar, during school hours.
+She did it, too, in such a kind way, that
+it made one forget that they were poor.
+That was because she was <small>ODD</small>, you
+know.</p>
+
+<p>As I grew up, I began to understand
+more of this good lady&rsquo;s character than I
+ever dreamed when I went to school. I
+saw things in a different light, as it were.
+And for her many good acts, from the
+fact that she was about my first school
+teacher, I do not think I shall ever forget
+her.</p>
+
+<p>There is another reason why I shall
+never forget Aunt Thankful. Perhaps I
+had better tell you about it. She kept
+our village school one summer; I think
+it must have been the second or third
+year I went to school. Anyhow, I was
+in one of the lower classes.</p>
+
+<p>The school-house was a little box of a
+thing, hardly bigger than a decent-sized
+shed. There was only one room in the
+building. The teacher sat upon a small
+platform on one side, while the seats for
+the scholars were raised, one above the
+other, on the opposite side. Over the
+teacher&rsquo;s desk was a little square window,
+looking out upon the horse shed in the
+rear.</p>
+
+<p>It was a hot summer forenoon, and the
+windows were all open; the morning lessons
+had been completed. Aunt Thankful
+sat writing at her desk, now and then
+casting her eyes round the school-room,
+to see that everything was in order. But
+there was mischief brewing. The children
+were waiting impatiently for noon
+recess, and more than one of them were
+having a quiet whisper or giggle all by
+themselves.</p>
+
+<p>All at once some of the children saw
+the mischievous face of a monkey peeping
+in at the little back window behind the
+teacher&rsquo;s desk. Of course those who saw
+such an unusual sight laughed outright,
+greatly to the astonishment of Aunt
+Thankful.</p>
+
+<p>Rap! rap! rap! went her ruler upon
+the desk, as a signal for quiet. At the
+noise the monkey dodged out of sight in
+a moment, and soon the children were
+restored to order. Aunt Thankful went
+on writing.</p>
+
+<p>To explain so unusual a sight, I ought
+to say that a strolling organ man, with a
+monkey, had been in the village that day.
+He had stopped in the shed behind the
+school-house to eat his dinner. Accidentally,
+he had fallen asleep; and his monkey,
+being of an inquisitive turn, had got
+loose, and was exploring on his own account.
+He carried a part of his chain
+upon his neck all the while, and somehow
+or other he had climbed up to the little
+square window, as related.</p>
+
+<p>Aunt Thankful went on writing. But
+soon the monkey appeared again over her
+head, turning his funny little face to one
+side and the other, showing his teeth,
+grinning, and going through other performances.
+This time the laughing was
+louder than before, because more children
+saw the show. I must record here that
+a funnier sight I never have witnessed.</p>
+
+<p>The teacher looked up once more, and
+rapped on her desk quite indignantly.
+&ldquo;James Collins,&rdquo; she said, with severe
+authority, &ldquo;come here, this moment. If
+you cannot sit in your seat without laughing,
+come and stand by me. You, too,
+Walter, and Solomon. And you, Martha
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_255" id="Page_255">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>255]</a></span>
+Hapgood. I am astonished at your conduct.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>The recusant children ranged themselves
+before the teacher, who seemed to
+think she had now quenched the rebellion.
+I noticed that they managed to stand so
+they could have a good view of the window,
+as if they expected, or even hoped
+for, another occasion for laughing.</p>
+
+<p>And they didn&rsquo;t wait long, either. In
+a minute or two the monkey appeared for
+the third time; and on this occasion he
+came wholly into sight, chain and all, and
+began to dance up and down in his peculiar
+way, bowing and nodding to the spectators.
+By this time all the children had
+found out&mdash;by the usual school telegraph,
+I suppose&mdash;what was going on,
+and joined in a loud and universal laugh.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Sakes alive!&rdquo; exclaimed Aunt Thankful,
+jumping up and seizing her ruler;
+&ldquo;what&rsquo;s got into the children?&rdquo; Whether
+the monkey thought the flourish which
+the teacher&rsquo;s ruler took was a signal for a
+fight or not, I never knew; but certain it
+is he began to scream and shake his chain.
+The children laughed louder than ever.
+Aunt Thankful turned round, saw what
+the trouble was, and raised her hands.
+The monkey construed this as an act of
+war, and with a single jump landed on
+the desk. Here for a few moments he
+made the papers fly pretty nimbly. He
+upset the inkstand, scattered the sandbox
+and pens, screaming all the while like
+mad. After he had experimented long
+enough, he gave another jump out of the
+window; and that was the last we saw of
+him.</p>
+
+<p>Aunt Thankful looked as white as a
+sheet. She was taken by surprise, and
+seemed really frightened.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Marcy on us,&rdquo; she said, as soon as
+she could find words, &ldquo;what a dreadful
+creature! You may go to your seats,
+children; I guess you can be excused for
+laughing.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>The poor lady proceeded to pick up her
+papers, and set matters to rights. It was
+quite a task. The ink had run over all
+her papers and into her desk. For years
+after, that ink spot was pointed out by the
+children to the new comers, and the story
+of the monkey had to be related.</p>
+
+<p>Before noon the organ grinder had
+wakened from his after-dinner sleep, and
+finding out that his monkey had been into
+mischief, concluded that it was best to be
+off. He was not seen in the village any
+more.</p>
+
+<p>Aunt Thankful kept school afterwards
+for several years, and then age compelled
+her to give up her office. About that
+time, and just when she wanted it most,
+one of the inhabitants of our village left
+her three thousand dollars in his will, as
+a &ldquo;mark of his esteem.&rdquo; Surely never
+was charity more properly bestowed, or
+more gratefully received. I don&rsquo;t think
+there was a person in the world who envied
+her the gift, or thought it undeserved.</p>
+
+<p class="sig">M. H.</p>
+
+<div class="figcenter ipadboth" style="width: 200px;">
+<img src="images/hd101.jpg" width="200" height="171"
+alt="Sword and flower decoration" />
+</div>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_256" id="Page_256">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>256]</a></span></p>
+
+<div class="figcenter ipadboth" style="width: 448px;">
+<img src="images/hd102.jpg" width="448" height="400"
+alt="The children at the bottom of the basement steps" />
+</div>
+
+<h2>HOW A GOOD DINNER WAS LOST.</h2>
+
+
+<p><span class="dropcap">T</span>ING a ling ling! a ling ling! ling
+ling! ling! So went the dinner
+bells&mdash;first mamma&rsquo;s, then Mrs. Green&rsquo;s,
+Mrs. Brown&rsquo;s, Mrs. White&rsquo;s, and all the
+other neighbors&rsquo; with colored names. It
+was everybody&rsquo;s dinner hour; and by the
+way, is it not funny how everybody gets
+hungry together?</p>
+
+<p>Dinner was to be eaten at the healthy,
+good old-fashioned hour of noon, between
+the two sessions of school. The children
+were just fresh from slates, with long,
+crooked rows of hard figures, and heavy
+atlases, with unpronounceable towns and
+rivers that would not be found out. There
+were chickens and dough-balls for dinner.
+The smell of them made the children ravenous;
+and they very nearly tripped up
+Maria and her platter in their haste to
+reach the table.</p>
+
+<p>Mamma looked around to see if they
+were all there, and counted on her fingers,&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Baby, Jelly, Tiny&mdash;Tiny, where&rsquo;s
+Bunch?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Why, I thought she was in the kitchen,&rdquo;
+said Tiny, looking wistfully at the
+tempting drumsticks. &ldquo;Papa, won&rsquo;t you
+please help us little folks first&mdash;just to-day?
+&rsquo;cause we&rsquo;re so awful hungry.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_257" id="Page_257">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>257]</a></span></p>
+
+<div class="figcenter ipadboth" style="width: 400px;">
+<img src="images/hd103.jpg" width="400" height="308"
+alt="A bunch of poppy heads" />
+</div>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Tiny, I do
+believe that
+Bunch has gone
+down to the Midgetts&rsquo;.
+You must
+go and find her
+before you eat
+your dinner; and
+hurry, now.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;O, dear! can&rsquo;t she hear the dinner bell
+just as well as I can?&rdquo; and off flew Tiny,
+with the streamers of her jockey standing
+straight out behind her, and her new buttoned
+shoes spattering water from every
+mud-puddle in her way.</p>
+
+<p>We were not invited; so we can&rsquo;t stay
+to dinner; but perhaps we will have time
+to learn something about the little ones
+while Tiny is hunting her tardy sister
+Bunch.</p>
+
+<p>Her name was not really Bunch; that
+is, she was not christened so. At school
+she answered &ldquo;Present&rdquo; at roll-call to the
+prettier name of Florence; but uncle Tim&mdash;he&rsquo;s
+such a jolly fellow!&mdash;said, when he
+first held her in her delicately-embroidered
+blankets, that she was such a bouncer, so
+red and so dumpy, that she would never
+be anything but a bunch; and so dubbed,
+she carries the name to this day. But
+did not she disappoint him, though! for,
+in some unaccountable way, she daily
+stretched long, and flattened out, and became
+thin and bony. Her collar-bone
+grew to be a perfect shelf, and her stockings
+got a very awkward fashion of wrinkling
+about her ankles.</p>
+
+<p>Soon after, when Tiny&rsquo;s
+little red face began to
+screw and squint at uncle
+Tim, she was such a mite
+that he was sure to be
+right this time if he nicknamed
+her Tiny; and she
+was so little, that an ordinary pillow made
+her a bed of a comfortable size; and all
+the old cronies in the village whispered
+that the new baby would either die off
+pretty quick, or live to be a second Mrs.
+Tom Thumb. But Tiny lived, and spited
+them, and waxed fat and bunchy, while
+Bunch astonished them all by waning lean
+and tiny.</p>
+
+<p>Jelly&rsquo;s name came no one knew how.
+Some mischievous sprite probably whispered
+it to her; for she persisted that it was
+her name; and so she was indulged in it.</p>
+
+<p>Near their home was a vacant lot&mdash;vacant,
+excepting for a one-story shanty,
+with a cellar, piles of broken crockery, old
+shoes, dislocated hoop skirts, and bushes
+of rank stramoniums, with their big, poisonous
+blossoms. Cows strayed in the lot,
+munching the ugly snarls of grass, and
+the neighbors&rsquo; pigs and fowls made a
+daily promenade through the wilderness
+of refuse.</p>
+
+<p>Although it seemed a very unattractive
+place for a neat little girl to visit, now
+especially, since a pipe of the great sewer
+had overflowed, and had deluged parts of
+the ground. But to that miserable shanty
+mamma believed her little Bunch to have
+strayed; and there Tiny found her, seated
+on a log of wood in the corner of the largest
+room, with her apron thrown over
+her face and the Midgett girls&mdash;there
+were two of them&mdash;first staring at her,
+and then winking at each other.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Bunch,&rdquo; said Tiny, &ldquo;Bunch, mamma
+says to hurry right straight home; and
+guess what there is for dinner. Chicken
+pot-pie, and it&rsquo;s my turn to have the
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_258" id="Page_258">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>258]</a></span>
+wish-bone! Why, Bunch, what&rsquo;s the matter
+with you? What a baby! You&rsquo;re always
+forever a-crying about something or other.
+Come on now. I&rsquo;m going right home;
+and you&rsquo;ll get an awful punishing for coming
+here!&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>The eyes of the Midgett girls glared at
+her and the insult.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;O, dear! O, dear!&rdquo; sobbed Bunch,
+just peeping from one corner of her apron
+at the outer door.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;O, dear, what?&rdquo; snapped Tiny, in
+such a hurry for a drumstick.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Tiny, did you see anything on the
+front stoop when you came in?&rdquo; asked
+Bunch, her eye still peeping at the outer
+door.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Any what?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;O, any&mdash;any cats&mdash;any wildcats?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Wildcats&mdash;what are they?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;O!&rdquo; said the Midgetts, shouting together;
+&ldquo;wildcats! dreffle ones! my! yes!
+green eyes! awful cats, that spit fire out
+o&rsquo; their mouths, and claws that&rsquo;ll scratch
+yer to death;&rdquo; imitating the clawing with
+their long dirty fingers quite in the face
+of poor Bunch, who immediately retired
+to the seclusion of her apron, and continued
+her frightened sobs.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;O, where? where?&rdquo; asked Tiny, excitedly,
+opening wide her big blue eyes,
+and glancing uneasily in every corner.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Why, jist out o&rsquo; there, hid under the
+stoop; an&rsquo; when yer go out, they&rsquo;ll pounce
+onto yer.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;O,&rdquo; said Tiny, bravely, &ldquo;&rsquo;tain&rsquo;t so!
+I don&rsquo;t believe it. There wasn&rsquo;t any there
+when I came in.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;That&rsquo;s because they was asleep, then,&rdquo;
+said Ann Matilda. She had red, fiery
+red hair, was freckled, and had tusks for
+teeth. &ldquo;They&rsquo;ve just got woke up now;
+and they&rsquo;re hungry, too.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;So am I,&rdquo; said Tiny. &ldquo;Come, Bunch,
+let&rsquo;s hurry past, and they can&rsquo;t touch us;
+besides, you know no wild animals live
+about here nowadays.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;O, but these ones are what comes up
+out of the sewer,&rdquo; instructed the Midgetts.</p>
+
+<p>Tiny&rsquo;s courage began quickly to ooze
+away, and every bit of it deserted her
+when she and Bunch just put their noses
+outside of the door, and heard a most ferocious
+ya-o-o-ing from&mdash;well, they could
+not tell where.</p>
+
+<p>Of the Midgett tribe, there was no one
+at home but the two girls. There was no
+Mr. Midgett, but there was a Mrs. Midgett,
+who was out washing. The children
+had seen her plunging her hard, red arms
+into the soap suds, over their mother&rsquo;s
+wash-tub. She probably had a hard time
+managing a living. They were very poor.
+Sometimes the girls got employment as
+nurse girls or as extra help in the neighbors&rsquo;
+kitchens; but no one cared particularly
+to employ them, they were so
+vulgar, indolent, and slovenly. So they
+subsisted on the odd bits of broken victuals
+which they begged from door to door in
+baskets. Some people said they always
+gathered so much, that they must keep a
+boarding-house to get rid of the stuff;
+but I always regarded this as a fine bit of
+sarcasm. The Midgett mansion was a
+forbidden haunt of the children; but on
+this day Bunch had gone, for the last
+time, on special business of her own.</p>
+
+<p>On Christmas last, Santa Claus had
+visited their home, and left for each a
+pretty doll of the regulation pattern, with
+blue eyes, and golden crimpy hair, dressed
+in billowy tarleton, and the height of
+fashion, the beauty of which dolls quite
+bewildered the unaccustomed eyes of the
+Midgetts when the children took their
+young ladyships for an airing. And so
+one day the Midgetts borrowed them for
+a minute, while the children neglected
+their responsibilities, leaving them on a
+door stone, while they crowded for a closer
+peep at the mysterious dancers in a hand-organ.
+From that day to this the whereabouts
+of the dollships has remained a
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_259" id="Page_259">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>259]</a></span>
+solemn secret from the knowledge of all
+but the Midgetts. And it was to them
+Bunch had gone for a clew to her treasure.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;O,&rdquo; said Keziah Jane, &ldquo;while we was
+a-standin&rsquo; a-waitin&rsquo; for yous two to git
+away from the music, and give us a chance
+to peek in at the dancin&rsquo;, the black feller
+what lives down the sewer come, and
+snatches &rsquo;em away; and we chases him
+like fury, and he run; and we never seed
+those ere dolls agin&mdash;nor him nor the
+dolls.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Sh! sh!&rdquo; cautioned Ann Matilda.
+&ldquo;Who&rsquo;s that a-knockin&rsquo; at the door? Run
+quick in the bed-room, and hide under the
+bed. Maybe it&rsquo;s that ere black feller, or
+those wildcats.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Scramble under the dirty bed went the
+two little girls while the door was opened.
+Only Jelly; no black man, nor wildcats,
+either. Jelly, and unharmed; Jelly sent
+from mamma to escort her naughty sisters
+home, but who was readily frightened into
+remaining with them; and so there were
+three little entertainers for the Midgett
+ogresses that afternoon.</p>
+
+<p>In the course of a half hour came another
+rapping at the door. What a reception
+the Midgetts were having! Keziah
+Jane pushed the children under the bed,
+while Ann Matilda opened the door. This
+time it was the grown-up sister Rosa.</p>
+
+<p>O, how the children&rsquo;s hearts throbbed
+when they heard Rosa&rsquo;s pleasant voice!
+but they dared to speak never a word;
+for Keziah Jane crawled down on the floor
+close beside the bed, and looked hard at
+them with her wicked black eyes, and
+said,&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Wildcats!&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Are my little sisters here?&rdquo; asked
+Rosa.</p>
+
+<p>O, how they wished she was just near
+enough so they might pull her dress!</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;O, no, mem!&rdquo; said red-headed Ann
+Matilda, with the door opened on a most
+inhospitable crack. &ldquo;O, no, indeed! they
+haven&rsquo;t been here in a month. I seed &rsquo;em
+a-goin&rsquo; to school with their books jest as
+the town clock struck&rsquo;d two.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;How strange!&rdquo; thought Rosa. &ldquo;They
+wouldn&rsquo;t have gone back to school without
+their dinners.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>And when she reached home, she told
+uncle Tim that she half believed they were
+there, though what could entice them to
+the horrible hut she could not imagine.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;O my! how cramped up my neck is!&rdquo;
+said Bunch.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;O, O, how hungry I am!&rdquo; cried Tiny,
+remembering the drumsticks.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I don&rsquo;t like it here, and I want to go
+home,&rdquo; sobbed Jelly.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Well, get up, then, and le&rsquo;s hev dinner,&rdquo;
+said the Midgetts.</p>
+
+<p>Dinner! There were old baked potatoes,
+and a mess of turnips, and a bite of
+fried beefsteak, all mixed in a heap in a
+rusty tin pan on the table; and Tiny whispered
+to Bunch that there was &ldquo;a piece
+of the very codfish balls which were on
+mamma&rsquo;s breakfast table.&rdquo; Her appetite
+had deserted her, Bunch had cried hers
+away, and Jelly had left hers at her own
+bountiful table. But the Midgetts ate,
+and enjoyed.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Now,&rdquo; said they, &ldquo;if you&rsquo;ll be real
+good, and mind, we&rsquo;ll give you a gay old
+treat. Want to go a-swimmin&rsquo;? We
+dunno as we mind a-givin&rsquo; yer a little
+pleasure, pervidin&rsquo; yer&rsquo;ll mind, and not
+go near the closet where the black snake
+lives.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;O,&rdquo; shouted the children, &ldquo;we don&rsquo;t
+want to go near any snakes!&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Besides, we can&rsquo;t swim,&rdquo; said Tiny.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Well, we&rsquo;ll show yer how,&rdquo; said Keziah
+Jane; &ldquo;besides, yer all look jest&rsquo;s
+if a good bath wouldn&rsquo;t hurt yer&mdash;don&rsquo;t
+they, Ann Matilda?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Ann Matilda laughed, and said yes,
+looked down at her own bare feet, and
+bade the children to &ldquo;be a-takin&rsquo; off their
+shoes and stockin&rsquo;s.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_260" id="Page_260">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>260]</a></span>
+&ldquo;Now, then, foller me,&rdquo; said Keziah
+Jane, opening the door which led to the
+cellar stairs.</p>
+
+<p>The children looked down into the
+black hole, and shrank back with fear.
+The stairs ended in a pool of black,
+muddy water, in much the same way that
+they do in a <i>bona fide</i> swimming-bath.
+You will remember that a pipe of the
+sewer had burst, and the dirty water had
+overflowed the Midgetts&rsquo; cellar. To wade
+about in this had been the recreation of
+the Midgetts for days.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Come on now,&rdquo; said they; &ldquo;lift up
+your dresses, and come along.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>The cellar was growing every minute
+lighter the longer they were in it; and
+soon the children lost their fear, and began
+to paddle about with their naked feet,
+taking excellent care to steer clear of the
+closet containing the black snake.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;It&rsquo;s getting awful, awful dark,&rdquo; said
+Jelly.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;That&rsquo;s so,&rdquo; said Bunch, wondering,
+and looking up to see why the small window
+gave so little light. Something outside
+moved just then. The window was
+opened, and there were two faces looking
+down at them&mdash;two faces full of astonishment.
+They belonged to Rosy and
+uncle Tim.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Children, get right out of that filth,
+and go up stairs,&rdquo; ordered Rosy.</p>
+
+<p>Up stairs they went, one hanging behind
+the other, and entered the room from
+the cellar just as Rosy came in at the front
+door. Can you imagine how they must
+have looked, drenched and spoiled with
+the impure water from the dainty ruffles
+at their throats to the very nails of their
+toes? Like drowned rats! Rosy only
+said, with a withering glance at the Midgetts,&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Never come to our house again for
+cold pieces.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Then bidding the children gather up
+their stockings and shoes, she marched
+them off barefooted between herself and
+uncle Tim. Tiny&rsquo;s new buttoned shoes
+had found a watery grave; for, as the
+bathers came up stairs, one of the Midgett
+feet pitched them gracefully into the cellar.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Tiny,&rdquo; said Bunch, as they walked
+mournfully home, amid the astonished
+gaze of the returning school children. &ldquo;I
+don&rsquo;t believe there was a wildcat there
+any of the time.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;No, nor a black man in the sewer,&rdquo;
+said Tiny.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Nor a black snake in the closet,&rdquo; said
+Jelly.</p>
+
+<p>But there were a hot bath and clean
+clothing at home for them, and warm
+beds. Whether there was anything more
+severe than a good lecture, I will leave
+you to guess; for mamma said they were
+old enough to know better than to believe
+in any such ridiculous nonsense, all excepting
+little Jelly.</p>
+
+<p>I should be ashamed to finish the conclusion
+of the affair; for what do you
+think, children? It all actually happened,
+once upon a time, to myself and two of
+my sisters.</p>
+
+<p class="sig smcap">Fannie Benedict.</p>
+
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p class="cap">MIRTH is a medicine of life:<br />
+<span class="i4">It cures its ills, it calms its strife;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">It softly smooths the brow of care,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And writes a thousand graces there.<br /></span></p>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_261" id="Page_261">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>261]</a></span></p>
+
+<h2>LAME SUSIE.</h2>
+
+
+<p><span class="dropcap">C</span>HILDREN,&rdquo; said Miss Ware to her little band of scholars, &ldquo;Susie
+Dana is coming to school next Monday. She is lame, and I want
+you to be kind and thoughtful toward her. She does not show her lameness
+until she commences to walk, and then you can see that one of the
+fat little legs is longer than the other, which makes her limp. So do not
+watch her as she walks. Be sure not to run against her in your plays,
+and don&rsquo;t shut her out from them because she cannot run and jump as
+you do, but choose, some of the time, plays in which she can take part.
+Remember, I make this rule: When you leave the room at recess or
+after school, wait, every one of you, in your places till she has passed
+out; then she will not be jostled or hurt in any way. Her lameness is a
+hard trial for a little girl. She would like to run and dance as well as
+any of you, and I do hope you will feel for her, and at least not make
+her burden heavier. How many, now, will promise to try to make her
+happy?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Every hand was instantly raised, and the children&rsquo;s clear, honest eyes
+met their teacher&rsquo;s with a look which was a promise.</p>
+
+<p>You have read stories, no doubt, of lame, blind or deformed children,
+and poor ones in patched clothes, who met treatment from others harder
+to endure than their poverty, privation or pain. Sometimes their schoolmates
+have been foolish and cruel enough to shun them, cast them out
+from their plays and pleasures, brush roughly against them, talk about,
+and even ridicule, them. But I hope it is not often so. In this case it
+was by far the reverse.</p>
+
+<p>These children remembered their pledge, and they made Susie so
+happy that she almost forgot her lameness. She was a cheerful, pleasant,
+good little girl, and her schoolmates, who had begun by pitying
+her and trying to help her, soon loved to be with her.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;May I sit with Susie, Miss Ware?&rdquo; became a frequent request.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Susie dear, here&rsquo;s a cake I&rsquo;ve brought you,&rdquo; one would say at
+recess.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Take half my apple, Susie.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_262" id="Page_262">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>262]</a></span></p>
+
+<div class="figcenter ipadtop" style="width: 414px;">
+<img src="images/hd104.jpg" width="414" height="600"
+alt="Harry protects Susie from the oxen" />
+</div>
+
+<p class="caption">NOTHING SHALL HURT YOU.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_263" id="Page_263">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>263]</a></span>
+One day, as Susie was on her way to school she met a large drove of
+oxen. Poor little girl! she was very much frightened, and the big blue
+eyes were fast filling with tears when Harry Barton, one of the school-boys,
+stepped up before her and said, &ldquo;Don&rsquo;t cry, Susie. I will take care
+of you. Nothing shall hurt you while I am here.&rdquo; And right bravely
+he stood before her until the last one had passed, and then took Susie
+to school, kindly helping her over the rough places.</p>
+
+<p>So the seasons wore on, and Susie, who, though she ardently desired
+to learn, had dreaded going among other children, was always happy
+with them. She loved her teacher and schoolmates, and made such
+progress as she could not have done had these things been different.</p>
+
+<p>The summer vacation was over. The glorious days of early autumn,
+with sunshine glinting through the crimson foliage, dropping nuts and
+golden harvests, passed swiftly away, and cold weather came.</p>
+
+<p>The school-room was pleasant still with its cheery fire and bright
+faces. One day, when all were busy as usual, a cry rang out,</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Fire! Fire! The school-house is on fire!&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Books and pens dropped from trembling hands, little faces paled, and
+eager, appealing eyes turned instantly to the teacher.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Run, children!&rdquo; she said, hurriedly.</p>
+
+<p>Only one moved&mdash;lame Susie. She limped along as fast as she could,
+and all the rest, frightened as they were, remained in their places till she
+was safe outside the walls. Then with a rush they cleared the room
+almost in an instant. Even in that time of peril and dread they remembered
+their duty and kindness toward her, and gave her the richest proof
+in their power of their thoughtful love. Not mere obedience to a rule
+could have prompted this unselfish act, and as such a proof she must
+have felt it.</p>
+
+<p>It is a beautiful illustration, as it is a <em>true</em> one, of God&rsquo;s love for all
+living and for all times.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;As ye would they should do to you, do ye to them.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<div class="figcenter ipadboth" style="width: 150px;">
+<img src="images/hd105.jpg" width="150" height="41"
+alt="Floral decoration" />
+</div>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_264" id="Page_264">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>264]</a></span></p>
+
+<div class="figcenter ipadboth" style="width: 414px;">
+<img src="images/hd106.jpg" width="414" height="400"
+alt="Pepper the dog is told a secret" />
+</div>
+
+<h2>THE SECRET.</h2>
+
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p class="cap">PEPPER BAKER, don&rsquo;t you tell!<br />
+<span class="i3">If you ever do, I&rsquo;ll&mdash; Well,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">I&rsquo;ll do something you&rsquo;ll remember<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Till the last day of December.<br /></span></p>
+</div>
+
+<div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Pepper, look me in the eye!<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">You must be as shy, as shy&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Play, you don&rsquo;t know where I&rsquo;m going,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Don&rsquo;t know anything worth knowing!<br /></span>
+</div>
+
+<div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">When the bell for breakfast rings,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">I will bring you cakes and things;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Don&rsquo;t go down till Ben calls, &ldquo;Pupper,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Pupper; come and &rsquo;ave your supper!&rdquo;<br /></span>
+</div>
+
+<div class="stanza">
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_265" id="Page_265">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>265]</a></span>
+<span class="i0">What I&rsquo;ve told you no one knows,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Only you, and I, and Rose<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">(Maybe she has told her kitty),<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">No one else in Boston city.<br /></span>
+</div>
+
+<div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Pepper, look at me, and say<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">With your eyes,&mdash;look straight this way,&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">With your teeth, and mane so shaggy,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">With your ears and tail so waggy,&mdash;<br /></span>
+</div>
+
+<div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">&ldquo;I will never, never tell.<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">They may tie a ding-dong-bell<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To my little tail so waggy,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Singe my ears and coat so shaggy.<br /></span>
+</div>
+
+<div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">&ldquo;They may drown me in the well,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">All because I will not tell.&rdquo;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">That will do, you grim old Quaker!<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">I can trust you Pepper Baker.<br /></span>
+</div>
+
+<p class="poet smcap">Mary R. Whittlesey.</p>
+</div>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+
+<h2><a name="Page_265lower" id="Page_265lower"></a>SILVER AND GOLD.</h2>
+
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p class="cap">SILVER or golden, which is the best&mdash;<br />
+<span class="i3">Which with God&rsquo;s love is most richly blest?<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Which is the fairer I cannot tell,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Grandfather dear or my baby Bel.<br /></span></p>
+</div>
+
+<div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">The soft twilight hour, when shadows fall,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">To little Bel seems the best of all;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Then grandfather lays aside his book;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">He cannot resist the pleading look.<br /></span>
+</div>
+
+<div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">There&rsquo;s room for two in the great arm-chair;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">His arms enfold her with loving care;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Upturned is a smiling, rosy face;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Two dimpled arms have found their place.<br /></span>
+</div>
+
+<div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Sweet eyes of hazel, so clear and bright,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Look up with a happy, loving light;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The curls are golden that softly stray,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">While breezes amid their sunshine play.<br /></span>
+</div>
+
+<div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Little she dreams of sorrow and care;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Life is unknown, and to her seems fair.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">As years roll by the face may grow old;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">But the loving heart will never grow cold.<br /></span>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_266" id="Page_266">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>266]</a></span></p>
+
+<div class="figcenter ipadtop" style="width: 427px;">
+<img src="images/hd107.jpg" width="427" height="600"
+alt="Bel and her grandfather sit together in the armchair" />
+</div>
+
+<p class="caption">SILVER AND GOLD.</p>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_267" id="Page_267">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>267]</a></span>
+<span class="i0">When the hand of Time on her head is laid,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">The lustre of gold must surely fade;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But lovely is even a silver frost,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">If truth and goodness have not been lost.<br /></span>
+</div>
+
+<div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Pride and passion have left no trace<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">On the old man&rsquo;s placid, saintly face;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The journey so long is almost done&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">The strife is over, the victory won.<br /></span>
+</div>
+
+<div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">The voice that speaks is gentle and deep;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Surely it means God&rsquo;s grace to keep.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Eyes like the heavens so darkly blue;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Surely God&rsquo;s love is shining through.<br /></span>
+</div>
+
+<div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Forehead so noble, calm, and fair;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Surely God&rsquo;s peace is resting there.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The snowy locks are a silver crown;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Softly the blessing of God came down.<br /></span>
+</div>
+
+<div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Silver or golden, which is the best&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Which with God&rsquo;s love is most richly blest?<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Which is the fairer I cannot tell,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Grandfather dear or my baby Bel.<br /></span>
+</div>
+
+<p class="poet smcap">Ellis Gray.</p>
+</div>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+
+<h2><a name="Page_267lower" id="Page_267lower"></a>TWO MORNINGS.</h2>
+
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p class="cap">STEP softly; the baby sleeps;<br />
+<span class="i3">Drop the curtains, and close the door;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Baby sleeps, while mother weeps&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Sleeps, never to waken more.<br /></span></p>
+</div>
+
+<div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Not a breath disturbs his repose;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">The blossom he wears has forgotten to blow.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Once his two cheeks were red as a rose;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Now they are lilies, you know.<br /></span>
+</div>
+
+<div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Morning will come, with its sweet surprise,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Waken the flowers, and scatter the dew;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But never again shall the baby&rsquo;s eyes<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Watch the sunbeams break through.<br /></span>
+</div>
+
+<div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Yet in heaven his morning is growing<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">To fairer dawning than ours has known&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">A fountain of light forever flowing<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Forth from the great white throne.<br /></span>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_268" id="Page_268">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>268]</a></span></p>
+
+<div class="figcenter ipadboth" style="width: 348px;">
+<img src="images/hd108.jpg" width="348" height="450"
+alt="Tim gazes at the goods in the confectioner's window" />
+</div>
+
+<h2>TIM, THE MATCH BOY.</h2>
+
+
+<p><span class="dropcap">T</span>IM had been standing for a long
+while gazing in at the confectioner&rsquo;s
+window. The evening was drawing
+in, and ever since morning a thick, unbroken
+cloud had covered the narrow
+strips of sky lying along the line of roofs
+on each side of the streets, while every
+now and then there came down driving
+showers of rain, wetting him to the skin.</p>
+
+<p>Not that it took much rain to wet Tim
+to the skin. The three pieces of clothing
+which formed his dress were all in tatters.
+His shirt, which looked as if it never
+could have been whole and white, had
+more than half the sleeves torn away, and
+fell open in front for want of a collar, to
+say nothing of a button and button-hole.
+The old jacket he wore over it had never
+had any sleeves at all, but consisted of a
+front of calf-skin, with all the hair worn
+away, and a back made with the idea that
+it would be hidden from sight by a coat,
+of coarse yellow linen, now fallen into
+lamentable holes. His trousers were
+fringed by long wear, and did not reach
+to his ankles, which were blue with cold,
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_269" id="Page_269">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>269]</a></span>
+and bare, like his feet, that had been
+splashing along the muddy streets all day,
+until they were pretty nearly the same
+color as the pavement. His head was
+covered only by his thick, matted hair,
+which protected him, far better than his
+ragged clothes, from the rain and wind,
+and made him sometimes dimly envious
+of the dogs that were so far better off, in
+point of covering, than himself. His
+hands were tucked, for warmth, in the
+holes where his pockets should have
+been; but they had been worn out long
+ago, and now he had not even accommodation
+for any little bit of string, or morsel
+of coal, he might come across in the
+street.</p>
+
+<p>It was by no means Tim&rsquo;s habit to
+stand and stare in at the windows of cake
+shops. Now and then he glanced at them,
+and thought how very rich and happy
+those people must be who lived upon such
+dainty food. But he was, generally, too
+busy in earning his own food&mdash;by selling
+matches&mdash;to leave him much time for
+lingering about such tempting places.
+As for buying his dinner, when he had
+one, he looked out for the dried-fish stalls,
+where he could get a slice of brown fish
+ready cooked, and carry it off to some
+doorstep, where he could dine upon it
+heartily and contentedly, provided no policeman
+interfered with his enjoyment.</p>
+
+<p>But to-day the weather had been altogether
+too bad for any person to come
+out of doors, except those who were bent
+on business; and they hurried along the
+muddy streets, too anxious to get on
+quickly to pay any heed to Tim, trotting
+alongside of them with some damp boxes
+of matches to sell. The rainy day was
+hard upon him. His last meal had been
+his supper the night before&mdash;a crust his
+father had given him, about half as big as
+it should have been to satisfy him. When
+he awoke in the morning, he had already
+a good appetite, and ever since, all the
+long day through, from hour to hour, his
+hunger had been growing keener, until
+now it made him almost sick and faint to
+stand and stare at the good things displayed
+in such abundance inside the shop
+window.</p>
+
+<p>Tim had no idea of going in to beg.
+It was far too grand a place for that; and
+the customers going in and out were
+mostly smart young maid-servants, who
+were far too fine for him to speak to.</p>
+
+<p>There were bread shops nearer home,
+where he might have gone, being himself
+an occasional customer, and asked if they
+could not find such a thing as an old crust
+to give him; but this shop was a very different
+place from those. There was scarcely
+a thing he knew the name of. At the
+back of the shop there were some loaves;
+but even those looked different from what
+he, and folks like him, bought. His hungry,
+eager eyes gazed at them, and his
+teeth and mouth moved now and then,
+unknown to himself, as if he was eating
+something ravenously; but he did not
+venture to go in.</p>
+
+<p>At last Tim gave a great start. A
+customer, whom he knew very well, was
+standing at the counter, eating one of the
+dainty bunns. It could be no one else
+but his own teacher, who taught him and
+seven and eight other ragged lads like
+himself, in a night school not far from
+his home. His hunger had made him forgetful
+of it; but this was one of the evenings
+when the school was open, and he
+had promised faithfully to be there to-night.
+At any rate, it would be a shelter
+from the rain, which was beginning to fall
+steadily and heavily, now the sun was set;
+and it was of no use thinking of going
+home, where he and his father had only
+a corner of a room, and were not welcome
+to that if they turned in too soon of an
+evening. His teacher had finished the
+bunn, and was having another wrapped up
+in a neat paper bag, which he put
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_270" id="Page_270">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>270]</a></span>
+carefully into his pocket, and then stepped out
+into the street, and walked along under
+the shelter of a good umbrella, quite unaware
+that one of his scholars was pattering
+along noiselessly behind him with bare
+feet.</p>
+
+<p>All Tim&rsquo;s thoughts were fixed upon the
+bunn in his teacher&rsquo;s pocket. He wondered
+what it would taste like, and whether it
+would be as delicious as that one he had
+once eaten, when all the ragged school
+had a treat in Epping Grove&mdash;going
+down in vans, and having real country
+milk, and slices of cake to eat, finishing
+up with a bunn, which seemed to him as if
+it must be like the manna he had heard
+of at school, that used to come down
+from heaven every morning before the
+sun was up. He had never forgotten that
+lesson; and scarcely a morning came that
+he did not wish he had lived in those
+times.</p>
+
+<p>The teacher turned down a dark, narrow
+street, where the rain had gathered
+in little pools on the worn pavement,
+through which Tim splashed carelessly.
+They soon reached the school door; and
+Tim watched him take off his great-coat,
+and hang it up on the nails set apart for
+the teachers&rsquo; coats.</p>
+
+<p>Their desk was at a little distance; and
+he took his place at it among the other
+boys, but his head ached, and his eyes
+felt dim, and there was a hungry gnawing
+within him, which made it impossible to
+give his mind to learning his lessons, as
+he usually did. He felt so stupefied, that
+the easiest words&mdash;words he knew as
+well as he knew the way to the Mansion
+House, where he sold his matches&mdash;swam
+before his eyes, and he called them
+all wrongly. The other lads laughed and
+jeered at him, and his teacher was displeased;
+but Tim could do no better.
+He could think of nothing but the dainty
+bunn in the teacher&rsquo;s pocket.</p>
+
+<p>At last the Scripture lesson came; and
+it was one that came home to Tim&rsquo;s state.
+The teacher read aloud first, before hearing
+them read the lesson, these verses:
+&ldquo;And Jesus, when he came out, saw
+much people, and was moved with compassion
+toward them, because they were
+as sheep not having a shepherd: and he
+began to teach them many things. And
+when the day was now far spent, his disciples
+came unto him,&rdquo; etc. Read Mark
+vi. 34-44.</p>
+
+<p>Tim listened with a swelling heart, and
+with a feeling of choking in his throat.
+He could see it all plainly in his mind.
+It was like their treat in Epping Grove,
+where the classes had sat down in ranks
+upon the green grass; and O, how green
+and soft the grass was! and the teachers
+had come round, like the disciples, giving
+to each one of them a can of milk and
+great pieces of cake; and they had sung
+a hymn all together before they began to
+eat and drink. Tim fancied he could see
+our Saviour as once he had seen him in
+a beautiful picture, with his hands outstretched,
+as if ready to give the children
+surrounding him anything they wanted,
+or to fold them every one in his loving
+arms. He thought he saw Jesus, with
+his loving, gentle face, standing in the
+midst of the great crowd of people, and
+asking the disciples if they were sure they
+had all had enough. Then they would
+sing, thought Tim, and go home as happy
+as he had been after that treat in Epping
+Grove. All at once his hunger became
+more than he could bear.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;O, I wish He was here!&rdquo; he cried,
+bursting into tears, and laying his rough
+head on the desk before him. &ldquo;I only
+wish He was here.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>The other lads looked astonished; for
+Tim was not given to crying; and the
+teacher stopped in his reading, and touched
+him to call his attention.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Who do you wish was here, Tim?&rdquo;
+he asked.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_271" id="Page_271">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>271]</a></span>
+&ldquo;Him,&rdquo; sobbed the hungry boy; &ldquo;the
+Lord Jesus. He&rsquo;d know how bad I feel.
+I&rsquo;d look him in the face, and say, &lsquo;Master,
+what are I to do? I can&rsquo;t learn nothink
+when I&rsquo;ve got nothink but a griping
+inside of me.&rsquo; And he&rsquo;d think how hungry
+I was, having nothink to eat all day.
+He&rsquo;d be very sorry&mdash;he would, I know.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Tim did not lift up his head; for his
+tears and sobs were coming too fast, and
+he was afraid the other lads would laugh
+at him. But they looked serious enough
+as the meaning of his words broke upon
+them. They were sure he was not cheating
+them. If Tim said he had had nothing
+to eat all day, it must be true; for he
+never grumbled, and he always spoke the
+truth. One boy drew a carrot out of his
+pocket, and another pulled out a good
+piece of bread, wrapped in a bit of newspaper,
+while a third ran off to fetch a cup of
+water, having nothing else he could give to
+Tim. The teacher walked away to where
+his coat was hanging, and came back with
+the bunn which he had bought in the shop.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Tim,&rdquo; he said, laying his hand kindly
+on the lad&rsquo;s bowed-down head, &ldquo;I am
+very sorry for you; but none of us knew
+you were starving, my boy, or I should
+not have scolded you, and the lads would
+not have laughed at you. Look up, and
+see what a supper we have found for you.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>It looked like a feast to Tim. One of
+the boys lent him a pocket knife to cut
+the bread and carrot into slices, with which
+he took off the keen edge of his hunger;
+and then he ate the dainty bunn, which
+seemed to him more delicious than anything
+he had ever tasted before. The rest
+of the class looked on with delight at his
+evident enjoyment, until the last crumb
+had disappeared.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I could learn anything now,&rdquo; said
+Tim, with a bright face; &ldquo;but I couldn&rsquo;t
+understand nothink before. Then you
+began telling about the poor folks being
+famished with hunger, and how Jesus
+gave them bread and fishes, just as if
+he&rsquo;d been hungry himself some time, and
+knew all about it. It is bad, it is. And
+it seemed such a pity he weren&rsquo;t here in
+the city, and I couldn&rsquo;t go to him. But,
+I dessay, he knows how you&rsquo;ve all treated
+me, and I thank you all kindly; and I&rsquo;ll
+do the same by you some day, when
+you&rsquo;ve had the same bad luck as me.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Yes,&rdquo; said the teacher, &ldquo;Jesus knew
+how hungry you were; and he knew how
+to send you the food you wanted. Tim,
+and you other lads, I want you to learn
+this verse, and think of it often when you
+are grown-up men: &lsquo;Whosoever shall
+give to one of these little ones a cup of
+cold water only in the name of a disciple,
+verily I say unto you, He shall in no wise
+lose his reward.&rsquo;&rdquo;</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+
+<h2><a name="Page_271lower" id="Page_271lower"></a>ENVY PUNISHED.</h2>
+
+
+<p><span class="dropcap">A</span> BURMESE potter, it is said, became
+envious of the prosperity of
+a washerman, and to ruin him, induced
+the king to order him to wash one of his
+black elephants white, that he might be
+&ldquo;lord of the white elephant,&rdquo; which in
+the East is a great distinction.</p>
+
+<p>The washerman replied that, by the
+rules of his art, he must have a vessel
+large enough to wash him in.</p>
+
+<p>The king ordered the potter to make
+him such a vessel. When made, it was
+crushed by the first step of the elephant
+in it. Many times was this repeated; and
+the potter was ruined by the very scheme
+he had intended should crush his enemy.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_272" id="Page_272">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>272]</a></span></p>
+
+<div class="figcenter ipadtop" style="width: 447px;">
+<img src="images/hd109.jpg" width="447" height="600"
+alt="Addie's pet bird perches on her finger" />
+</div>
+
+<p class="caption">WINGS.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_273" id="Page_273">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>273]</a></span></p>
+
+<h2>WINGS.</h2>
+
+
+<p><span class="dropcap">I</span>F I only had wings like you!&rdquo; said Addie Lewis, speaking
+to her pet bird as she opened the cage door.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Chirp, chirp!&rdquo; answered the bird, flying out and resting
+on Addie&rsquo;s finger.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Ah, birdie, if I only had your wings!&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Wings!&rdquo; spoke out Addie&rsquo;s mother. &ldquo;You have wings,&rdquo;
+she said, in a quiet way.</p>
+
+<p>Addie looked at her shoulders, and then at her mother&rsquo;s. &ldquo;I
+don&rsquo;t see them,&rdquo; she said, with a little amused laugh.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;We are using them all the while,&rdquo; said Mrs. Lewis. &ldquo;Did
+you never hear of the wings of thought?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Oh! That&rsquo;s what you mean? Our thoughts are our wings?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Yes; and our minds can fly with these wings higher and
+farther than any bird can go. If I read to you about a volcano
+in Italy, off you go on the wings of thought and look down into
+the fiery crater. If I tell you of the frozen North, you are there
+in an instant, gazing upon icy seas and the wonders of a desolate
+region. The wings of an eagle are not half so swift and strong
+as the wings of your thought. The very king of birds would
+perish in regions where they can take you in safety.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<div class="figcenter ipadboth" style="width: 250px;">
+<img src="images/hd110.jpg" width="250" height="84"
+alt="Foliage decoration" />
+</div>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_274" id="Page_274">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>274]</a></span></p>
+
+<div class="figcenter ipadboth" style="width: 408px;">
+<img src="images/hd111.jpg" width="408" height="450"
+alt="Squanko sitting on a wide window ledge" />
+</div>
+
+<h2>SQUANKO.</h2>
+
+
+<p><span class="dropcap">W</span>HAT a name for a dog, auntie!&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;<em>Name!</em> Why, Frank, when
+you hear the whole, like the Queen of
+Sheba, you&rsquo;ll say the half has not been
+told you.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Why, didn&rsquo;t you find Squanko quite
+enough for one dog?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;His full name,&rdquo; said my aunt, loftily,
+&ldquo;is Squanko Guy Edgerly Patterson.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>She rolled out these resonant titles
+with due gravity, and Squanko, turning
+his bright eyes from one to the other,
+solemnly wagged his tail, as if to signify
+approval.</p>
+
+<p>I was a New Hampshire boy, and this
+was my first visit to the city. My experience
+with dogs previously had been that
+of a country boy bred up among sportsmen.
+I had known several highly-trained
+hounds, and famous bird dogs, though
+my ideal of canine perfection was that
+marvel of sagacity, the shepherd dog.
+Still, my first love among dogs had been
+a noble old hound, who, though sightless
+from age, would follow a rabbit better
+than any young dog was capable of doing.
+The scent of powder brought back his
+lost youth. Let him hear the loading of
+a gun,&mdash;or the mere rattle of a shot-pouch
+was enough,&mdash;he would break out
+into the wildest gambols, dashing hither
+and yon, in an ecstasy of delight.</p>
+
+<p>Running headlong against rock or tree,
+as he was liable to do, only tempered his
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_275" id="Page_275">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>275]</a></span>
+zeal for a moment; the next, he was tearing
+along more madly than ever. Dear
+old Trim! I had shed a boy&rsquo;s hot tears
+over his grave on the hill-side, and I was
+not ashamed of it either.</p>
+
+<p>I felt a tenderness for Squanko. The
+yellow spots which marked his white fur
+reminded me of Trim&rsquo;s. Remembering
+the accomplishments of my lost favorite,
+I ventured another question.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;What is he good for, aunt Patterson?
+Can he hunt?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Good for!&rdquo; ejaculated my aunt&mdash;&ldquo;<em>good
+for!</em> I couldn&rsquo;t keep house without
+him.&rdquo; A certain fine disdain curled
+her lip; she had utterly ignored my second
+question. Completely quenched, I
+was fain to accept Squanko at once, hunter
+or no hunter.</p>
+
+<p>And we were, on the whole, pretty
+good friends, in spite of the battles we
+fought, nearly every evening, for the possession
+of the lounge. It made small
+difference to Squanko if I was beforehand
+with him. Though quite a large
+dog, he would creep up behind me, slowly
+insinuating himself between me and
+the back of the lounge. Then, watching
+his opportunity, he would brace his feet
+suddenly, and more than once the execution
+of this man&oelig;uvre sent me rolling,
+ignominiously, upon the floor.</p>
+
+<p>The intruder ousted, his majesty would
+settle himself for a nap, not heeding in
+the least the shouts of laughter which
+his triumph never failed to evoke.</p>
+
+<p>On all occasions (excepting only nights,
+when he slept tranquilly on a rug in my
+aunt&rsquo;s room) he felt it his duty to keep
+watch and ward over the premises. His
+favorite perch, in sunny mornings, was in
+the window of my aunt&rsquo;s chamber. If by
+any chance the white curtain had not
+been looped up, as usual, leaving the
+window sill exposed, Squanko went down
+for help, and by whining, pulling his mistress&rsquo;s
+dress and similar arts, persuaded
+her to go up and remove the obnoxious
+curtain. Carefully seating himself upon
+the sill, which was all too narrow for his
+portly figure, he would fall to work, by
+barking furiously at every person&mdash;man,
+woman, or child&mdash;who presumed to pass
+up or down the street. Most fortunately
+for him, the window he occupied overlooked
+the lawn at the side of the house,
+instead of the pavement in front; for on
+several occasions his fury became so ungovernable,
+that he barked himself sheer
+off his foundation.</p>
+
+<p>Catching a glimpse of his whirling figure,
+my aunt rushed out, armed with a
+bottle of liniment; and while she bathed
+his imperilled legs, she strove also to
+soothe his outraged feelings. For the
+time all vanity seemed to have been
+dashed out of him; but comforted by
+sympathy and caresses, he again mounted
+his perch, and barked with undiminished
+ardor.</p>
+
+<p>At table, my aunt always occupied
+what is termed an office chair. Being
+quite small in person, a portion of the
+great leather cushion, at the back, was
+left vacant. Squanko rarely failed to
+possess himself of this vantage-ground,
+and squatting thereon, peered wisely over
+his mistress&rsquo;s shoulder, as if studying the
+problem of what portion of the goodly
+meal before him might safely be counted
+on as a remainder.</p>
+
+<p>Yet Squanko had his grievances. One
+was, not being allowed the freedom of the
+garden. If he went out, my aunt&rsquo;s careful
+hand hastened to link the long chain,
+attached to his house, to his collar. She
+had a chronic fear of his running away.</p>
+
+<p>Squanko utterly disdained to occupy
+the bed of straw which graced his dwelling,
+but climbing to a board which surmounted
+the ridge of the roof, would lie
+upon that narrow ledge, ready to pounce
+upon any one who ventured near.</p>
+
+<p>Missing him one morning, both here
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_276" id="Page_276">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>276]</a></span>
+and on the window-sill, one of the wee
+Johnnys of the neighborhood, who stood
+in wholesome awe of Squanko, put his
+curly head in at the doorway.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Where&rsquo;s Squanko, Mrs. Patterson?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Gone to walk.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;<em>Gone to walk</em>,&rdquo; chuckled Johnny,
+bursting with merriment. &ldquo;That&rsquo;s funny&mdash;<em>a
+dog gone to walk</em>!&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Squanko&rsquo;s <em>walk</em> was rarely omitted;
+generally it was performed under my
+aunt&rsquo;s tutelage, when she went a little
+way with her husband, whose business
+took him to the city every morning. If,
+for any reason, Mrs. Patterson let her
+husband go to the cars alone, she sent
+Squanko off by himself, with strict orders
+to return speedily, which direction he had
+never failed to obey.</p>
+
+<p>Besides his chain, Squanko had one
+other trial to endure&mdash;a thorough ablution
+once a week. Bathing was his aversion;
+still, he had been obliged to submit
+to it from his puppyhood, and Mrs.
+Patterson was inexorable. A dog who
+was not faultlessly clean could have no
+place in the arrangements of her household.
+In and about her dwelling all was
+spotlessly neat. Everything susceptible
+of polish shone, from the window-panes,
+and the great cooking-stove, to Squanko&rsquo;s
+white coat. In vain were his protests,
+his indignant snorts and sneezes,
+his incipient growls; into the tub of
+warm water he had to go, while the
+scrubbing-brush performed its office upon
+his fat sides. Having been duly washed
+and wiped, he always indulged in a vicious
+shake or two, producing a sort of mist
+in his immediate vicinity. After being
+wrapped in his own blanket shawl, he
+was placed on the lounge, to repose while
+drying. His luxurious nap completed,
+he would emerge from his retirement, his
+short white hair shining like satin,&mdash;as
+clean a playfellow as one might desire.
+His temper,&mdash;not usually of the best,&mdash;after
+one of these baths, would remain
+sunny for hours.</p>
+
+<p>But Squanko&mdash;like many another
+spoiled darling,&mdash;was not content with
+the home where he was so petted and
+indulged.</p>
+
+<p>As his master opened the door to go
+into the garden, one evening, Squanko
+rushed past him, and made for the street.
+In vain our hurried search, up and down,
+in the dark spring night. In vain his
+mistress&rsquo;s frantic calls. If Squanko was
+hidden in some nook hard by, and heard
+her entreaties, his heart must have been
+harder than a stone. That hasty exit
+was the last we ever saw of him. Night
+after night my uncle, coming home from
+the city, inquired for Squanko, only to
+receive the sad reply,&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;No, Roy! We never&mdash;never shall
+see Squanko again.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Soon a fat, brindled puppy was installed
+in the vacant place. Day by day
+he grew, both in bulk and in the affections
+of the family. My aunt named him
+&ldquo;Trouble.&rdquo; All the devotion which had
+been Squanko&rsquo;s was straightway lavished
+on him.</p>
+
+<p>When, in process of time, the tidings
+were borne to my aunt&rsquo;s ears, that
+Squanko, forgetful of former friends,
+was leading a jolly existence in a neighboring
+town, she only replied, with a toss
+of her head, &ldquo;Let the ungrateful imp stay
+there. Trouble is worth a dozen of
+him!&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p class="sig smcap">F. Cheseboro.</p>
+
+<div class="figcenter ipadboth" style="width: 150px;">
+<img src="images/hd078.png" width="150" height="14"
+alt="Decoration" />
+</div>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_277" id="Page_277">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>277]</a></span></p>
+
+<h2>&ldquo;THE SWEET ONE FOR POLLY.&rdquo;</h2>
+
+
+<p><span class="dcapp"><span class="dcap">P</span></span>OLLY had expected
+to be
+very happy in
+getting ready
+for the party;
+but when the
+time came she
+was disappointed,
+for somehow
+that
+naughty thing
+called envy
+took possession
+of her, and
+spoiled her
+pleasure.</p>
+
+<p>Before she
+left home she
+thought her
+new white muslin
+dress, with
+its fresh blue ribbons, the most elegant
+and proper costume she could have; but
+now, when she saw Fanny&rsquo;s pink silk, with
+a white tarlatan tunic, and innumerable
+puffings, bows, and streamers, her own
+simple little toilet lost all its charms in
+her eyes, and looked very babyish and
+old-fashioned.</p>
+
+<p>Even Maud was much better dressed
+than herself, and looked very splendid in
+her cherry-colored and white suit, with a
+sash so big she could hardly carry it, and
+little white boots with red buttons.</p>
+
+<p>They both had necklaces and bracelets,
+ear-rings and brooches; but Polly
+had no ornament except the plain locket
+on a bit of blue velvet. Her sash was
+only a wide ribbon, tied in a simple bow,
+and nothing but a blue snood in the pretty
+brown curls. Her only comfort was the
+knowledge that the modest tucker drawn
+up round the plump shoulders was real
+lace, and that her bronze boots cost nine
+dollars.</p>
+
+<p>Poor Polly, with all her efforts to be
+contented, and not to mind looking unlike
+other people, found it hard work to
+keep her face bright and her voice happy
+that night. No one dreamed what was
+going on under the muslin frock, till
+grandma&rsquo;s wise old eyes spied out the
+little shadow on Polly&rsquo;s spirits, and
+guessed the cause of it. When dressed,
+the three girls went up to show themselves
+to the elders who were in grandma&rsquo;s
+room, where Tom was being helped
+into an agonizingly stiff collar.</p>
+
+<p>Maud pranced like a small peacock,
+and Fan made a splendid courtesy, as
+every one turned to survey them; but
+Polly stood still, and her eyes went from
+face to face with an anxious, wistful air,
+which seemed to say, &ldquo;I know I&rsquo;m not
+right; but I hope I don&rsquo;t look very bad.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Grandma read the look in a minute;
+and when Fanny said, with a satisfied
+smile, &ldquo;How do we look?&rdquo; she answered,
+drawing Polly toward her so kindly,
+&ldquo;Very like the fashion-plates you got the
+patterns of your dresses from. But this
+little costume suits me best.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Do you really think I look nice?&rdquo;
+and Polly&rsquo;s face brightened, for she valued
+the old lady&rsquo;s opinion very much.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Yes, my dear; you look just as I
+like to see a child of your age look. What
+particularly pleases me is, that you have
+kept your promise to your mother, and
+haven&rsquo;t let any one persuade you to wear
+borrowed finery. Young things like you
+don&rsquo;t need any ornaments but those you
+wear to-night,&mdash;youth, health, intelligence,
+and modesty.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>As she spoke, grandma gave a tender
+kiss that made Polly glow like a rose, and
+for a minute she forgot that there were
+such things in the world as pink silks and
+coral ear-rings.</p>
+
+<div class="figcenter ipadtop" style="width: 600px;">
+<img src="images/hd112.jpg" width="600" height="388"
+alt="Tom handing a bouquet to Polly" />
+</div>
+
+<p class="caption">&ldquo;THE SWEET ONE FOR POLLY.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>She only said, &ldquo;Thank you, ma&rsquo;am,&rdquo;
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_278" id="Page_278"><!-- Illustration - THE SWEET ONE FOR POLLY --></a></span>
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_279" id="Page_279">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>279]</a></span>
+and heartily returned the kiss; but the
+words did her good, and her plain dress
+looked charming all of a sudden.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Polly&rsquo;s so pretty, it don&rsquo;t matter what
+she wears,&rdquo; observed Tom, surveying
+her over his collar with an air of calm
+approval.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;She hasn&rsquo;t got any bwetelles to her
+dwess, and I have,&rdquo; said Maud, settling
+her ruffled bands over her shoulders,
+which looked like cherry-colored wings
+on a stout little cherub.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I did wish she&rsquo;d just wear my blue
+set, ribbon is so very plain; but, as Tom
+says, it don&rsquo;t much matter;&rdquo; and Fanny
+gave an effective touch to the blue bow
+above Polly&rsquo;s left temple.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;She might wear flowers; they always
+suit young girls,&rdquo; said Mrs. Shaw, privately
+thinking that her own daughters
+looked much the best yet, and conscious
+that blooming Polly had the most attractive
+face.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Bless me! I forgot my posies in
+admiring the belles! Hand them out,
+Tom;&rdquo; and Mr. Shaw nodded toward
+an interesting-looking box that stood on
+the table.</p>
+
+<p>Seizing them wrong side up, Tom produced
+three little bouquets, all different
+in color, size, and construction.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Why, papa, how very kind of you!&rdquo;
+cried Fanny, who had not dared to receive
+even a geranium leaf since the
+late scrape.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Your father used to be a very gallant
+young gentleman once upon a time,&rdquo; said
+Mrs. Shaw, with a simper and sigh.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Ah, Tom, it&rsquo;s a good sign when you
+find time to think of giving pleasure to
+your little girls.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>And grandma patted her son&rsquo;s bald
+head as if he wasn&rsquo;t more than eighteen.</p>
+
+<p>Thomas, Jr., had given a somewhat
+scornful sniff at first; but when grandma
+praised his father, the young man thought
+better of the matter, and regarded the
+flowers with more respect as he asked,
+&ldquo;Which is for which?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Guess,&rdquo; said Mr. Shaw, pleased that
+his unusual demonstration had produced
+such an effect.</p>
+
+<p>The largest was a regular hot-house
+bouquet of tea-rosebuds, scentless heath,
+and smilax; the second was just a handful
+of sweet-peas and mignonette, with a
+few cheerful pansies and one fragrant
+little rose in the middle; the third, a
+small posy of scarlet verbenas, white
+feverfew, and green leaves.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Not hard to guess. The smart one
+for Fan, the sweet one for Polly, and the
+gay one for Pug. Now, then, catch hold,
+girls;&rdquo; and Tom proceeded to deliver the
+nosegays with as much grace as could be
+expected from a youth in a new suit of
+clothes and very tight boots.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;That finishes you off just right, and
+is a very pretty attention of papa. Now
+run down, for the bell has rung; and remember
+not to dance too often, Fan; be
+as quiet as you can, Tom; and, Maud,
+don&rsquo;t eat too much supper. Grandma
+will attend to things, for my poor nerves
+won&rsquo;t allow me to come down.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>With that Mrs. Shaw dismissed them,
+and the four descended to receive the first
+visitors.</p>
+
+<p class="sig smcap">Louisa M. Alcott.</p>
+
+<div class="figcenter ipadboth" style="width: 150px;">
+<img src="images/hd113.jpg" width="150" height="139"
+alt="Decoration - a child frees a cat from a bag" />
+</div>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_280" id="Page_280">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>280]</a></span></p>
+
+<h2>THE ACCIDENT.</h2>
+
+
+<p><span class="dcapt2"><span class="dcap">T</span></span>OM named his velocipede
+Black Auster,
+in memory of
+the horse in &ldquo;The
+Battle of Lake Regillus,&rdquo;
+and came
+to grief as soon as
+he began to ride his
+new steed.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Come out and
+see me go it,&rdquo;
+whispered Tom to
+Polly, after three
+days&rsquo; practice in the
+street, for he had
+already learned to
+ride in the rink.</p>
+
+<p>Polly and Maud
+willingly went, and
+watched his struggles
+with deep interest,
+till he got an
+upset, which nearly
+put an end to his velocipeding forever.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Hi, there! Auster&rsquo;s coming!&rdquo;
+shouted Tom, as he came rattling down
+the long, steep street outside the park.</p>
+
+<p>They stepped aside, and he whizzed
+by, arms and legs going like mad, and the
+general appearance of a runaway engine.
+It would have been a triumphant descent,
+if a big dog had not bounced suddenly
+through one of the openings, and sent the
+whole concern helter-skelter into the gutter.
+Polly laughed as she ran to view
+the ruin, for Tom lay flat on his back with
+the velocipede atop of him, while the big
+dog barked wildly, and his master scolded
+him for his awkwardness. But when she
+saw Tom&rsquo;s face, Polly was frightened, for
+the color had all gone out of it, his eyes
+looked strange and dizzy, and drops of
+blood began to trickle from a great cut on
+his forehead. The man saw it, too, and
+had him up in a minute; but Tom couldn&rsquo;t
+stand, and stared about him in a dazed
+sort of way, as he sat on the curbstone,
+while Polly held her handkerchief to his
+forehead, and pathetically begged to know
+if he was killed.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Don&rsquo;t scare mother&mdash;I&rsquo;m all right.
+Got upset, didn&rsquo;t I?&rdquo; he asked, presently,
+eying the prostrate velocipede with
+more anxiety about its damages than his
+own.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I knew you&rsquo;d hurt yourself with that
+horrid thing. Just let it be, and come
+home, for your head bleeds dreadfully,
+and everybody is looking at us,&rdquo; whispered
+Polly, trying to tie the little handkerchief
+over the ugly cut.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Come on, then Jove! how queer
+my head feels! Give us a boost, please.
+Stop howling, Maud, and come home.
+You bring the machine, and I&rsquo;ll pay you,
+Pat.&rdquo; As he spoke, Tom slowly picked
+himself up, and steadying himself by
+Polly&rsquo;s shoulder, issued his commands,
+and the procession fell into line. First,
+the big dog, barking at intervals; then
+the good-natured Irishman, trundling
+&ldquo;that divil of a whirligig,&rdquo; as he disrespectfully
+called the idolized velocipede;
+then the wounded hero, supported by the
+faithful Polly; and Maud brought up
+the rear in tears, bearing Tom&rsquo;s cap.</p>
+
+<p class="sig smcap">Louisa M. Alcott.</p>
+
+<div class="figcenter ipadboth" style="width: 149px;">
+<img src="images/hd114.jpg" width="149" height="150"
+alt="Decoration - a herd of deer" />
+</div>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_281" id="Page_281">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>281]</a></span></p>
+
+<div class="figcenter ipadtop" style="width: 388px;">
+<img src="images/hd115.jpg" width="388" height="600"
+alt="Tom falls off the velocipede" />
+</div>
+
+<p class="caption">&ldquo;It would have been a triumphant descent, if a big dog had not
+bounced suddenly through one of the openings.&rdquo;</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_282" id="Page_282">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>282]</a></span></p>
+
+<div class="figcenter ipadboth" style="width: 500px;">
+<img src="images/hd116.jpg" width="500" height="118"
+alt="Decoration - a coach and horses" />
+</div>
+
+<h2>POLLY ARRIVES.</h2>
+
+
+<p><span class="dcapt3"><span class="dcap">T</span></span>HE train was just
+in when Tom
+reached the station,
+panting like
+a race-horse and
+as red as a lobster
+with the wind and
+the run.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Suppose she&rsquo;ll
+wear a top-knot
+and a thingumbob,
+like every one
+else; and how ever
+shall I know her?
+Too bad of Fan to
+make me come
+alone!&rdquo; thought
+Tom, as he stood
+watching the crowd stream through the
+depot, and feeling rather daunted at the
+array of young ladies who passed. As
+none of them seemed looking for any one,
+he did not accost them, but eyed each
+new batch with the air of a martyr.
+&ldquo;That&rsquo;s her,&rdquo; he said to himself, as he
+presently caught sight of a girl, in gorgeous
+array, standing with her hands
+folded, and a very small hat perched on
+top of a very large &ldquo;chig-non,&rdquo; as Tom
+pronounced it. &ldquo;I suppose I&rsquo;ve got to
+speak to her, so, here goes;&rdquo; and,
+nerving himself to the task, Tom slowly
+approached the damsel, who looked as if
+the wind had blown her clothes into rags,
+such a flapping of sashes, scallops, ruffles,
+curls, and feathers was there.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I say, if you please, is your name
+<em>Polly Milton</em>?&rdquo; meekly asked Tom,
+pausing before the breezy stranger.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;No, it isn&rsquo;t,&rdquo; answered the young
+lady, with a cool stare that utterly
+quenched him.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Where in thunder is she?&rdquo; growled
+Tom, walking off in high dudgeon. The
+quick tap of feet behind him made him
+turn in time to see a fresh-faced little girl
+running down the long station, and looking
+as if she rather liked it. As she
+smiled, and waved her bag at him, he
+stopped and waited for her, saying to
+himself, &ldquo;Hullo! I wonder if that&rsquo;s
+Polly?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Up came the little girl, with her hand
+out, and a half-shy, half-merry look in her
+blue eyes, as she said, inquiringly, &ldquo;This
+is Tom, isn&rsquo;t it?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Yes. How did you know?&rdquo; and
+Tom got over the ordeal of hand-shaking
+without thinking of it, he was so surprised.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Oh, Fan told me you&rsquo;d got curly hair
+and a funny nose, and kept whistling,
+and wore a gray cap pulled over your
+eyes; so I knew you directly.&rdquo; And
+Polly nodded at him in the most friendly
+manner, having politely refrained from
+calling the hair &ldquo;red,&rdquo; the nose &ldquo;a pug,&rdquo;
+and the cap &ldquo;old.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Where are your trunks?&rdquo; asked
+Tom, as he was reminded of his duty by
+her handing him the bag, which he had
+not offered to take.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Father told me not to wait for any
+one, else I&rsquo;d lose my chance of a hack;
+so I gave my check to a man, and there
+he is with my trunk;&rdquo; and Polly walked
+off after her one modest piece of baggage,
+followed by Tom, who felt a trifle depressed
+by his own remissness in polite
+attentions.</p>
+
+<p class="sig smcap">Louisa M. Alcott.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_283" id="Page_283">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>283]</a></span></p>
+
+<div class="figcenter ipadtop" style="width: 368px;">
+<img src="images/hd117.jpg" width="368" height="600"
+alt="Polly introduces herself to Tom" />
+</div>
+
+<p class="caption">&ldquo;THIS IS TOM, ISN&rsquo;T IT?&rdquo;</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_284" id="Page_284">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>284]</a></span></p>
+
+<h2>KINDNESS TO ANIMALS.</h2>
+
+
+<p><span class="dropcap">L</span>AST month a gentleman related an
+incident in his early life, showing
+how kindness to the brute creation makes
+them entirely subservient to our will.
+Similar experience is familiar to every
+one of us. This volume would not begin
+to contain the proofs which come
+under notice every day of our lives. Your
+dog or your cat understands your disposition
+as well as your brother or your sister.
+Give them a kick as you pass by, pull
+their ears or tail whenever you get an
+opportunity, and they will shun you as
+they would the plague. On the other
+hand, speak a kind word to them, give
+them a morsel of food, or fondle them
+kindly, and they will soon treat you as a
+friend.</p>
+
+<p>I have a cat who waits for my coming
+home every night as regularly as the sun.
+And if, perchance, I do not come at my
+usual time in the train, she shows her
+disappointment by mewing. She will roll
+over as obediently as you ever saw a dog,
+at the word of command. After supper,
+when I put on my slippers and take the
+evening paper, puss takes possession of
+my lap, and then she seems contented
+and happy.</p>
+
+<p>Kindness did all this&mdash;nothing else.
+Any cat can be taught to &ldquo;roll over&rdquo; in
+a week&rsquo;s time. Any cat will be your
+friend, and love you, if you will treat her
+well.</p>
+
+<p>It is precisely thus with wild animals.
+They know who their friends are as well
+as you know yours. They don&rsquo;t need to
+be told. There is no end of stories about
+the elephant, the horse, the dog; about
+their docility, and the affection they have
+for those who treat them kindly. Even
+the lion, when brought under the dominion
+of man, becomes strongly attached
+to those who treat him with kindness.
+An instance of this is related of one that
+was kept in the menagerie of the Tower
+of London. He had been brought from
+India, and on the passage was given in
+charge to one of the sailors. Long before
+the ship arrived at London, the lion and
+Jack had become excellent friends. When
+Nero&mdash;as the lion was called&mdash;was shut
+up in his cage in the Tower, he became
+sulky and savage to such an extent that
+it was dangerous even for his keeper,
+who was not over kind to him, to approach
+him.</p>
+
+<p>After Nero had been a prisoner for
+some weeks, a party of sailors, Jack being
+among the number, paid a visit to the
+menagerie. The keeper warned them not
+to go near the lion, who every now and
+then turned round to growl defiance to
+the spectators.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;What! old shipmate!&rdquo; cried Jack,
+&ldquo;don&rsquo;t you know me? What cheer, old
+Nero, my lad?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Instantly the lion left off growling,
+sprang up to the bars of his cage, and
+put his nose between them. Jack patted
+it on the head, and it rubbed his hand with
+its whiskers like a cat, showing evident
+signs of pleasure.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Ah,&rdquo; said Jack, turning to the keeper
+and spectators who stood looking on
+with astonishment, &ldquo;Nero and I were
+shipmates, and you see he isn&rsquo;t like some
+folks; he don&rsquo;t forget an old friend.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<div class="figcenter ipadboth" style="width: 427px;">
+<img src="images/hd118.jpg" width="427" height="500"
+alt="Jack and the lion are reunited" />
+</div>
+
+<p>But here&rsquo;s a story of another sort.
+Some weeks ago a caravan was exhibiting
+in Illinois. Among the animals was
+an elephant, to whom a mischievous boy
+had given an apple with tobacco concealed
+inside. As soon as the animal discovered
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_285" id="Page_285">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>285]</a></span>
+the trick, the boy began to laugh at the joke
+which he had played on the creature. The
+elephant, however, looked angry, and the
+keeper, having heard of the affair, told
+the boy to keep out of his reach, unless
+he wanted to be hurt.</p>
+
+<p>But, although the lad did not come so
+near that the elephant could get hold of
+him, he hung round in the vicinity. Presently
+a pail of water was brought for the
+elephant to drink. The insulted creature
+filled his trunk as full as he could, and
+seeing a good opportunity, blew the whole
+of it upon the boy who had given him
+tobacco, wetting him from head to foot.
+Verdict of the spectators, and of the
+readers of this book, &ldquo;Served him right.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p class="sig smcap">Robert Handy.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_286" id="Page_286">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>286]</a></span></p>
+
+<div class="figcenter ipadboth" style="width: 398px;">
+<img src="images/hd119.jpg" width="398" height="400"
+alt="Children playing around a haystack" />
+</div>
+
+<h2>ALL AMONG THE HAY.</h2>
+
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p class="cap">ALL among the buttercups,<br />
+<span class="i3">All among the hay!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Oh that spring would come again,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">With its merry May!<br /></span></p>
+</div>
+
+<div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Hasten summer&rsquo;s pleasant days,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Summer&rsquo;s pleasant hours;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Send us back the butterflies<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And the pretty flowers.<br /></span>
+</div>
+
+<div class="stanza">
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_287" id="Page_287">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>287]</a></span>
+<span class="i0">Yes, bright days will come again,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Winter soon will go,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And the smiling sun shall melt<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">All this dreary snow.<br /></span>
+</div>
+
+<div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Then beside the flowing stream<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Merrily we&rsquo;ll play,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">All among the buttercups,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">All among the hay.<br /></span>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+
+<h2><a name="Page_287lower" id="Page_287lower"></a>THE MOUSE AND CANARY.</h2>
+
+
+<p><span class="dropcap">A</span> LADY, having gone rather early into an apartment in which she had a
+fine canary, whose cage hung on the knob of the window-shutter, was
+much surprised to find the bird sitting asleep in the bottom of the cage, side
+by side with a live mouse, also asleep. On raising the window-blind, the
+mouse squeezed itself through between the wires of the cage and fled. The
+box of seeds, crumbs, etc., intended for the canary was found to be cleaned
+out, doubtless devoured by the strange companion. On the following evening,
+while the lady and her husband were sitting quietly by the fireside, they were
+still further astonished at seeing a mouse (no doubt the same one) climbing
+nimbly up the shutter and entering the cage between the wires. Thinking it
+might do harm to the bird, they tried to catch the mouse, but it made its
+escape as before. The cage was then suspended from a nail, so that the mouse
+could not gain access. Strange to say, however, on the following morning
+the canary was found asleep on the floor of the room (the cage door having
+been left open), and a piece of potato beside him. Most likely the mouse had
+spent the whole of the night there.</p>
+
+<div class="figcenter ipadboth" style="width: 150px;">
+<img src="images/hd120.png" width="150" height="36"
+alt="Floral decoration" />
+</div>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_288" id="Page_288">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>288]</a></span></p>
+
+<h2>THE TWO FRIENDS.</h2>
+
+<p class="center">A STORY FOR BOYS.</p>
+
+
+<p><span class="dropcap">M</span>ANY years ago two youths, whom
+we will call only by their Christian
+names,&mdash;Walter and Sidney,&mdash;were
+at the same boarding-school, at Mount&rsquo;s
+Bay, in Cornwall. They were each the
+sons of captains in the merchant service;
+but though they were equals in station,
+there was a great difference in their circumstances,
+for Walter inherited considerable
+property. Sidney&rsquo;s father had not
+been a prosperous man, and it was as
+much as he could do to give his boy a
+good education.</p>
+
+<p>Among the whole school there were no
+two lads so closely knit in friendship as
+Walter and Sidney; they were within a
+week of the same age (thirteen) at the
+time our narrative begins. It is always a
+pleasant sight, and also a good example,
+when two intelligent, kind-hearted boys
+become friends. They show to others
+what a disinterested and noble thing true
+friendship is. Thus, in their lessons and
+their sports, these boys were helpful to
+each other. They shared together every
+indulgence that the kindness of friends
+procured them, and if any added study
+were imposed, Sidney, who learned easily,
+would, after he had swiftly mastered
+his own lesson, take upon himself both
+the office of teacher and companion, and
+never rest until Walter was as well up in
+the task as he himself was. Most certainly
+the punishment of one was ever the
+punishment of both, for, if they were
+sharers in each other&rsquo;s joys, they were
+not the less so in their troubles. Perhaps
+the vigilance which each exercised over
+the other was the reason why they were
+comparatively seldom in any very serious
+disgrace, and their characters stood high
+in the school, both with masters and
+pupils.</p>
+
+<p>But while in the little world within the
+walls of the school all went equally well
+with the youthful friends, in the great world
+outside, heavy troubles came to Sidney&rsquo;s
+father. The vessel he commanded was
+lost near the mouth of the River Mersey,
+and though the crew were saved, yet it
+was judged that some mismanagement
+caused the disaster, and Sidney&rsquo;s father
+lost his certificate, and no owners would
+again trust him to command a vessel.
+The poor man took this so much to heart
+that he fell into a bad state of health, and
+declined so rapidly, that the week after
+Sidney received from Liverpool the first
+intimation of his father&rsquo;s illness, tidings
+came that he was dead.</p>
+
+<p>It was in the autumnal quarter, about
+eight weeks before Christmas, that the
+sad letter was received which told Sidney
+he was now an orphan. The only aunt
+the poor boy had, his father&rsquo;s sister,
+wrote the account, and she was obliged
+to add the painful fact that, with the
+loss of his father, Sidney would lose the
+means of further education, and must
+look forward to some humble means of
+earning his daily bread, with as little
+delay as possible.</p>
+
+<div class="figcenter ipadtop" style="width: 421px;">
+<img src="images/hd121.jpg" width="421" height="600"
+alt="Walter learns why Sidney is upset" />
+</div>
+
+<p class="caption">&ldquo;Why, Sid,&mdash;what&rsquo;s this? Dear old fellow, what&rsquo;s the matter?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>In his first great grief at hearing of his
+father&rsquo;s death, all else seemed trivial.
+Change of circumstances, hard work, any
+trouble, would have been as nothing if
+his father had been spared to him. But
+after the first shock of his sorrow, Sidney
+admitted that he must leave school;
+that it would not be honest, either to his
+aunt or his schoolmaster, to remain.
+Strangely enough, the very week in
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_289" id="Page_289"><!-- Illustration - WHY SID, WHAT'S THIS? --></a></span>
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_290" id="Page_290">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>290]</a></span>
+which this trouble came to Sidney, his
+friend Walter was at home for a few days,
+joining in the celebration of his father&rsquo;s
+fiftieth birthday. He had wanted Sidney
+to have a holiday also; but the latter,
+being already aware of his father&rsquo;s reverses
+and illness, though having no fear
+of any greater grief impending over him,
+had declined his friend&rsquo;s kind invitation.
+So it happened that, while a happy jubilee
+was being celebrated in Walter&rsquo;s home,
+Sidney was suddenly made a poor orphan.</p>
+
+<p>Never, during the three years that they
+had been school-fellows, had the countenances
+of the two boys showed such a
+contrast of expression as when they met
+in the playground a few minutes after
+Walter had alighted at the gate, on his
+return from the pleasant sojourn at his
+home. He was flushed with health and
+happiness, and ran up, with a boyish shout
+of mirth, to greet his friend. Poor Sidney,
+pale and choking with the effort to
+restrain his tears, could only grasp the
+proffered hand in silence, and turn away
+his head, unable to look up,&mdash;almost
+unable to bear the pent-up grief that
+throbbed at his heart, and tightened his
+chest with a sense of suffocation.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Why, Sid, what&rsquo;s this? Dear old
+fellow, what&rsquo;s the matter?&rdquo; was Walter&rsquo;s
+astonished inquiry, when a boy near whispered
+in his ear the brief words,&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;His father&rsquo;s dead!&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>That explained all; and Walter, twining
+his arm round his friend, led him
+away to a quiet spot, where they could
+weep together. The greater grief so
+completely absorbed Sidney on his first
+meeting with Walter, that it was not until
+the next day that any mention was made
+between them of how this bereavement
+would affect the future. Young and prosperous
+as Walter was, he knew well
+enough how sad it would be for his friend
+to lose the advantages of education just
+at the time when his studies would be
+needed to fit him for some pursuit in
+life.</p>
+
+<p>Meanwhile, as Sidney&rsquo;s aunt had not
+been able to send the money for the poor
+lad to go so long a journey as from West
+Cornwall to Liverpool, to attend his
+father&rsquo;s funeral, there was no immediate
+hurry at the school in preparing for the
+youth&rsquo;s departure. Walter, therefore, had
+time to carry out a plan which his affection
+suggested. He wrote an urgent letter
+to his father, filled with praises of
+Sidney, and accounts of all the help
+which his cleverness and conduct had
+afforded to him (Walter), and earnestly
+pleading that he might have the gratification
+of paying for a year or more schooling
+for his orphan friend, adding, as a
+concluding argument,&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;You know, papa, that I have forty
+pounds that aunt Margaret put in the
+savings bank for me, to do as I like with;
+and how could I spend it better, or so
+well, as in helping a good clever fellow
+like Sidney? It would be a real treat to
+me&mdash;the best I could have; and you
+promised to increase my pocket-money:
+you needn&rsquo;t; I can screw myself down
+famously, if you&rsquo;ll only give it to help
+Sid, who&rsquo;s always been helping me, I
+can tell you.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Walter was too earnest, it seemed, to
+pick and choose his words. He meant to
+have corrected and rewritten his letter, but
+there was no time; so he sent it, faults
+and all. And his father, in reading it,
+felt the heart-throb that beat in his boy&rsquo;s
+generous words; and though a man not
+at all demonstrative, he was observed to
+be taken as if with a sudden cold in his
+head, to judge by the vigorous use of his
+pocket handkerchief; but all he said was
+conveyed in a single nautical phrase,&mdash;&ldquo;The
+youngster is on the right tack.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>The day after, the principal of the
+Mount&rsquo;s Bay School received an intimation
+that Sidney was to continue his
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_291" id="Page_291">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>291]</a></span>
+studies there as long as he proved diligent;
+but the name of his patron was
+not to be told him. So, to the lad&rsquo;s great
+satisfaction, he was informed that a friend
+who had known his father would, for the
+present, help him. Walter knew the
+truth, but though he felt the intense joy
+that a good action always yields to the
+doer even more than to the receiver, he
+was careful to obey his father, and keep
+the secret.</p>
+
+<p>If Sidney was studious before, he redoubled
+his diligence now, and in the
+year made such great progress, that a
+Dutch gentleman, who visited the school,
+offered him a situation in his office at
+Rotterdam; and as Sidney knew that a
+residence abroad would be a great improvement
+to him, and also was eager to
+enter upon some mode of earning his
+own living, he wished earnestly to take
+the offer. At no time during their now
+four years of mutual school-life and
+friendship would Walter have heard with
+patience of Sidney leaving. But a parting
+now came.</p>
+
+<p>Walter&rsquo;s father had become an invalid,
+and was ordered to a warmer climate.
+The family removed to Florence, in Italy,
+and, of course, Walter went with them;
+his greatest grief being that Sidney could
+not accompany them.</p>
+
+<p>With the keenest pangs of youthful
+sorrow, the two friends parted, promising
+to write often, looking forward to meet at
+no distant future, for the world did not
+seem too wide for them, accustomed as
+they were, by association, to maritime
+people and travellers.</p>
+
+<p>It was three months after Walter had
+left, when Sidney took leave of his kind
+master, and the school which had been a
+home to him, and went, in cold spring
+weather, to the Venice of the north&mdash;Rotterdam.
+When he left he made one
+request, which his tutor thought it not
+wrong to grant. He desired to know the
+name of the benefactor who had so munificently
+helped him; and though he
+was not very much surprised when he
+heard the source from whence the aid
+had come, and was indeed glad that his
+gratitude was due where his friendship
+had so long been given, yet it naturally
+moved him very deeply when he found
+how Walter had been the means of effecting
+this. He also remembered vividly
+some acts of self-denial that added to the
+delicacy of his friend&rsquo;s silence, and made
+the action truly noble.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I can never repay you, dear Walter,
+nor your kind father; I shall ever be
+your grateful debtor,&rdquo; he wrote; &ldquo;but I
+will try to employ the talents you have
+cultivated, so as not, at all events, to
+disgrace your friendship.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Though railways made the continent
+open to travellers, and the desire to see
+his friend Walter never languished, yet
+years went by and it was not realized.
+Some tidings there were of reverse of
+fortune through a lawsuit, and of journeyings
+to different places. The last that
+Sidney heard of his friend was in a letter
+from Madeira, where his father was lingering
+on in too weak a state to bear
+removal.</p>
+
+<p>The desultory, unsettled life that the
+family had led seemed to have prevented
+Walter from making much progress as a
+sculptor,&mdash;a profession he had thought
+of while in Italy,&mdash;and his letters were
+somewhat vague and unsatisfactory as to
+his future plans.</p>
+
+<p>Then came a long interval with no tidings,
+and afterwards a returned letter
+with the one word <span class="smcap">Dead</span>, written under
+the name of Walter&rsquo;s father on the superscription.</p>
+
+<p>So, like a pleasant morning that ends
+in clouds and gloom, the friendship
+seemed to end which had so gladdened
+the youth of Sidney, and even blended
+with all the fondest memories of his
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_292" id="Page_292">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>292]</a></span>
+boyhood. Many were the prayers he
+breathed, that one who had been as a
+brother might not be entirely lost to him.</p>
+
+<p>As years went on great changes occurred
+in the firm that Sidney served.
+He had risen in the confidence of his
+employers. They had a business in
+Australia, under the care of a partner,
+who was also a relative. He died, and as
+there was a sudden increase of business
+facilities at Melbourne, Sidney was sent
+out, and a share in the concern was given
+him. His surname did not appear. He
+was announced, as many a junior partner
+is, by the little word &ldquo;Co.&rdquo; appended to
+the principal name of the firm.</p>
+
+<p>Sidney had been in the colony some
+three years, and was now a stalwart
+young man of twenty-seven, when one
+day, riding on horseback towards a suburb
+of the rapidly growing city of Melbourne,
+called Brighton, he noticed a
+gang of young men working on the road.
+He knew that many respectable emigrants
+had come over during the first excitement
+of the gold discoveries. Clerks
+used only to the pen, students, unsuccessful
+professional men, all in the first
+delirium fever-fit of the gold fever, had
+come in the expectation that hands unused
+to hard toil could use the pickaxe of
+the gold-digger, or wash the rubble for
+the precious ore. Ah, it was a wild, a
+fatal delusion! Many a gentleman and
+scholar pined to death with hardships and
+disappointments, while some, after weeks
+of sickness, rose to earn their bread by
+the humblest manual labor. Working on
+the roads, for which government pay was
+given, was often the resource of those
+who had been worsted in every other
+effort. Unable to help among such numbers
+of claimants on sympathy, Sidney
+had contented himself with joining in the
+subscriptions raised for the relief of the
+sick and destitute: but now, as he passed
+along, he felt a desire to speak to the
+workers in this gang. As his eye scanned
+them he saw only a group of thin, toil-worn,
+weather-beaten men, with rough
+beards half hiding their wasted features.
+Nothing was more acceptable, as a recreation
+to the emigrants, than books, and
+Sidney had commenced a lending library
+of books and publications; so, after a
+cheerful salutation, he now reined up his
+horse, and began to tell them of his plan,
+and to add, &ldquo;I have opened a room,
+friends, two nights a week,&mdash;it is but a
+rough shed, but I hope to make it better
+soon,&mdash;as a meeting-place, where a comfortable,
+pleasant, and profitable evening
+may be spent.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Then,&rdquo; said a man with a strong
+Irish brogue, &ldquo;your honor&rsquo;s the great
+Dutch merchant.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Yes, at the Dutch merchant&rsquo;s store;
+but I am English; my name is Sidney&mdash;&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>There was a wild panting sort of cry,
+and a man in the group fell to the ground.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;He&rsquo;s in a fit.&rdquo; &ldquo;He oughtn&rsquo;t to have
+come.&rdquo; &ldquo;Poor fellow!&rdquo; &ldquo;Fetch water!&rdquo;
+&ldquo;Give him air!&rdquo; These were
+the cries that were uttered. Meanwhile,
+throwing his horse&rsquo;s bridle over a post,
+Sidney dismounted, and helped to lift in
+his strong arms the tall but wasted form
+of a man from the ground. He was borne
+to a bank at the side of the road. Sidney
+put aside the matted hair that fell
+over his brow, and taking the pannikin,
+which some one had filled with water, he
+put it to his lips, wholly unconscious that
+he had ever seen that face before, until
+the eyes slowly opened, and the old expression,
+the soul-gaze, shone in them,
+and the hoarse and altered voice, yet
+with tones that woke old echoes, said,
+&ldquo;Sidney! Dear friend! Don&rsquo;t&mdash;don&rsquo;t
+you know me&mdash;Walter?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Walter! Yes it was he. The once
+blooming, prosperous, happy boy was
+this wasted, worn skeleton of a man. O,
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_293" id="Page_293">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>293]</a></span>
+the tide of feeling that rushed through
+Sidney&rsquo;s every vein, as he recognized
+his early friend&mdash;his benefactor! To
+raise him up, put him on his own horse,
+lead him gently to his own home, and,
+once there, to send for the best medical
+skill, and tend him through the illness
+that supervened, with a tenderness feminine
+in its thoughtful gentleness, was
+Sidney&rsquo;s privilege.</p>
+
+<p>In the intervals of his illness Walter
+related that his father had died at Madeira;
+that, hoping to obtain a settlement
+of some claims, he had visited America;
+that, waiting to have better news of himself
+to communicate, he put off writing
+from time to time; that he had gone with
+a company of adventurous young men to
+California, and there, instead of finding
+gold, spent all his means. Hoping to
+retrieve his position, he had come to
+Australia, and there his lot, though hard,
+was only that of hundreds, in the first
+trying time of mad excitement and wild
+adventure. &ldquo;And I must get to work
+again. I&rsquo;m not going to be here idle
+much longer,&rdquo; he said, at the conclusion
+of a conversation on the past.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;As to work, I&rsquo;ve plenty for you to do.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I can&rsquo;t continue to be a burden on
+you, Sid. I&rsquo;ve no claim.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;You&rsquo;ve every claim. As to burdens,
+you remind me how long I was a burden
+on you and your father. Once for all, I
+say, the help you gave me fitted me to
+get my living, and, by God&rsquo;s blessing,
+to make my way in life. Share with me
+in my business.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Walter was beginning to interrupt; but
+Sidney, raising his hand, deprecatingly,
+said,&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;You have still the advantage over me,
+that you gave me help when I had done
+nothing to deserve it of you. I only
+make a small repayment&mdash;a mere instalment
+of a great debt. Dear Walter,
+my good fellow, let there be no contest
+between us. Are we not friends? Does
+that not mean helpers?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>And so it was. The tie, never broken,
+was knit again yet more closely. Brothers
+in friendship, they ultimately became
+so in relationship; for as soon as Walter
+had a home, he invited a sister to share
+it with him, and she, in a few months
+after her arrival, became the wife of Sidney.
+And so the bond of brotherhood
+prospered, for many years.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+
+<h2><a name="Page_293lower" id="Page_293lower"></a>PUSS.</h2>
+
+
+<p><span class="dropcap">I</span>S it not a little more than surprising
+that the common domestic cat, an animal
+which we are better acquainted with
+than the dog, should be permitted to grow
+up with so little instruction? I think so.
+Almost every dog has some tricks; many
+dogs have a great number. Yet how
+rarely do you see a cat of which anything
+more is expected than that she shall purr
+when she is petted, play with your ball
+of yarn, or growl when you give her a
+nice dinner.</p>
+
+<div class="figcenter ipadtop" style="width: 426px;">
+<img src="images/hd122.jpg" width="426" height="600"
+alt="The neighbor's tabby cat asking for food" />
+</div>
+
+<p class="caption">MUFFY RINGING THE BELL.</p>
+
+<p>You teach your dog to bark at the word
+of command, to roll over, to stand upon
+his hind feet, and hold up his paws, to
+jump through a small hoop, to sing, and
+a thousand other pretty tricks; but why
+do you neglect your cat? You can teach
+her all these things,&mdash;except to bark,&mdash;and
+quite as easily. Any cat, not more
+than a year old, can be taught, in less
+than fifteen days, to &ldquo;roll over;&rdquo; and
+she learns other capers quite as freely.
+Bear in mind that to do this you have to
+appeal to the creature&rsquo;s love of food.
+That is her nature. She cares nothing
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_294" id="Page_294"><!-- Illustration - MUFFY RINGING THE BELL --></a></span>
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_295" id="Page_295">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>295]</a></span>
+for you; it is the dinner she is after.
+So, when you desire to teach puss to
+turn over, take her when she is hungry.
+Put your hand upon her back, and turn
+her over; and then give her a small
+bit of meat. Gradually she will require
+less and less force. She will understand
+what you want, and know what must be
+done in order to be served. Never disappoint
+her, but let the food immediately
+follow obedience. Other tricks may be
+taught in the same way. If you wish to
+teach her to go through a hoop, you will
+be obliged at first to take her up bodily,
+and put her through. But this will not
+be for a great while. She will soon understand
+what you desire.</p>
+
+<p>I once had a cat which would open any
+door in the house. She learned herself!
+The latch-doors came pretty easy, but
+the knobs bothered her a good deal. She
+persevered, however, and became an expert
+at either.</p>
+
+<p>I have a cat now&mdash;a Maltese&mdash;which
+is a marvel of intelligence. There seems
+to be no end to her interesting feats. She
+is terribly rough at play; if you impose
+upon her, you must look out for her claws.
+She watches for my coming from the city
+quite regularly; and as soon as I sit down
+to read, she plants herself in my lap.
+She had some kittens a few weeks ago.
+One evening, soon after, as I sat in the
+rocking-chair, with my newspaper, puss
+came into the room with one of her kittens
+in her mouth. She placed it carefully
+in my lap, and immediately went for
+the other one.</p>
+
+<p>A neighbor of mine has a cat which
+rings a bell when she is hungry. The
+bell is a small one, and hangs about a
+yard high, so that Miss Puss has to exert
+herself to reach it.</p>
+
+<p>Another cat I heard of recently seems
+to have discovered a way to get into the
+warm kitchen whenever she is accidentally
+shut out in the cold.</p>
+
+<p>At the side wall of the house there is
+a small aperture, of about two feet square,
+opening into the kitchen, and intended for
+the use and convenience of butchers, bakers,
+or grocers, who would otherwise
+have to go round to the back entrance;
+inside of this aperture is suspended a
+bell, which Miss Muffy must, no doubt,
+have often seen used by butchers, bakers,
+and grocers, to call the attention of cook.
+She has, therefore, adopted the same plan;
+and when tired of her prowlings about the
+garden, or hunting for birds in the adjoining
+wood, she springs up to the little
+door, and, with her paw or head, keeps
+ring, ring, ringing at the bell until the
+door is opened, and she gets admission.</p>
+
+<p>Muffy is not only a very intelligent little
+cat, but I can tell you she is also a
+very good-natured one, too. She submits
+to being dressed in the doll&rsquo;s clothes,
+and will sometimes lie quite still in the
+cradle for hours together, and when told
+to stand upon her hind legs and give a
+kiss, does so with a gracefulness hitherto
+unknown in the annals of cats.</p>
+
+<p>These funny marks of intelligence in
+dumb creatures are quite interesting. As
+you grow older, you will spend many an
+hour in trying to discover where the dividing
+line between <small>INSTINCT</small> and <small>REASON</small>
+is. It is <small>SOMEWHERE</small>. If you hatch
+some chickens by heat, miles away from
+any other fowls, the hens will cackle, and
+the cocks will crow, all the same, although
+no one has taught them. Why is it?</p>
+
+<p>If you could hatch a robin&rsquo;s egg in the
+same way, far removed from other birds,
+the bird would, when grown, build its
+nest precisely as other robins do, and of
+the same material, although it never saw
+a pattern in the world. <span class="smcap">Instinct</span>, or, if
+you prefer, <small>NATURE</small>, teaches all this. But
+it is not <small>REASON</small>, as you will know as you
+grow older.</p>
+
+<p>Just exactly so it is the instinct of a
+dog or a cat to obey you whenever you
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_296" id="Page_296">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>296]</a></span>
+require it. Take notice that you can
+never teach a dumb creature by observation.
+One cat will never learn to turn
+over by observing that another one gets
+its food thereby.</p>
+
+<p>But I will not try to mix you up in this
+discussion now. You will reach it soon
+enough if you live. And when you reach
+it, you will find a very difficult, as well as
+a very interesting question to solve.</p>
+
+<p class="sig smcap">Robert Handy.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+
+<div class="figcenter ipadboth" style="width: 484px;">
+<a name="Page_296lower" id="Page_296lower"></a>
+<img src="images/hd123.jpg" width="484" height="400"
+alt="The children watch the toy village burning" />
+</div>
+
+<h2>HOLIDAY LUCK.</h2>
+
+
+<p><span class="dropcap">M</span>OTHER, mother!&rdquo; with a prolonged
+<em>er</em>.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Mary, where&rsquo;s mother?&rdquo; and the
+children raced through the house, looking
+into every room on the way.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Here, Willie; what do you want?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;O, mother, we are to have a holiday.
+Miss Mortimer has gone home.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Isn&rsquo;t it fun!&rdquo; cried Ada, swinging on
+her mother&rsquo;s arm.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;That depends upon how you spend it,&rdquo;
+Mrs. Constant replied.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Why, a holiday means to have fun,
+and do just what you please,&rdquo; asserted
+Willie.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;And not get any lessons,&rdquo; said Dolly,
+snipping the tape with her mother&rsquo;s scissors.</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Constant took them from her, and
+smiled on the excited three.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_297" id="Page_297">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>297]</a></span>
+&ldquo;I hope you will have a pleasant day,
+and try to be good.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Not too good, mother,&rdquo; expostulated
+Willie.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;No, only don&rsquo;t get into mischief.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;What shall we do first?&rdquo; asked Ada.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I don&rsquo;t know,&rdquo; replied Dolly. &ldquo;Isn&rsquo;t
+it fun to have one whole day which is not
+Christmas or Thanksgiving?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>For a short time the children remained
+in Mrs. Constant&rsquo;s room, upsetting her
+baskets, tangling her silk, and plying her
+with numberless questions.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I think you had better take a run in
+the garden,&rdquo; she finally said. &ldquo;You are
+so restless and full of holiday, I think the
+fresh air would relieve you.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;What a dear mother!&rdquo; they cried;
+and having tumultuously kissed her, they
+repaired to the garden.</p>
+
+<p>They lived in a country town, and had
+a large plot of ground at the back of the
+house, through the farther end of which
+flowed a brook. Each one had his garden
+bed, and at one side was a summer-house,
+where they kept their garden tools and
+many of their playthings, also a pet rabbit,
+named Blackhawk. It was too late in
+the fall for flowers, only a few sturdy asters
+and hardy verbenas being in blossom, and
+they played tag, hide-and-seek, and chased
+each other with handfuls of dead leaves.
+While they were thus occupied, their
+mother called them, and told them that
+aunt Clara had sent for her to come and
+spend the day; she had sprained her ankle,
+and wanted some one to sit with her.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Won&rsquo;t you be home to dinner?&rdquo; they
+asked in despairing chorus.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;No; but Mary will take care of you,
+and you can enjoy yourselves; but don&rsquo;t
+do foolish things, or your holiday will be
+spoiled. Now, you must all be mother to
+each other, that I may find you well and
+happy when I come home.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>For a while after she had gone, they
+amused themselves being mother to one
+another; but Willie made such a failure
+that they gave it up.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Let us play with the dolls a little
+while,&rdquo; suggested Dolly.</p>
+
+<p>The proposition met with favor, and
+they went to the summer-house. Ada
+had a large family of paper dolls, and
+Dolly of wooden ones. They played tea
+party, and dinner, and visiting; but Willie
+could not forget that they had a holiday,
+and he longed to do something unusual.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;You have too many girls, Ada,&rdquo; he
+cried. &ldquo;Let us play China, and burn
+some up.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>A funeral pyre was soon constructed
+with splinters of wood, Dolly ran to the
+kitchen for matches, and Willie turned
+his jacket inside out, tied Ada&rsquo;s sack
+about his neck by the sleeves, put the
+watering-pot on his head, and was ready
+to personate the priest. Ada selected
+four victims, who were securely bound
+with thirty cotton, and laid on the pile.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Let us have Blackhawk for the idol,&rdquo;
+cried Ada.</p>
+
+<p>Blackhawk was brought forth, a string
+of colored beads put about his neck, and
+he was bolstered up in the arm-chair of
+the Princess Widdlesbee, Dolly&rsquo;s largest
+doll. But when the match was struck
+and applied with a great flourish, he
+sprang from his throne, and fled to the
+farthest corner.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;The god is displeased; the sacrifice
+must cease,&rdquo; cried Ada, who began to
+feel remorse as her dolls crisped and
+turned to ashes.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;No,&rdquo; shouted Willie, &ldquo;I am the priest;
+I know he means burn all;&rdquo; and seizing
+a brand, he applied it to Dolly&rsquo;s village,
+which stood near by. For a moment it
+was fun to see the flames bursting from
+the roofs of houses, and lapping about
+the fences; but Dolly soon gave a cry of
+dismay.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Susanna and Posy are in the church;
+I don&rsquo;t want them burned.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_298" id="Page_298">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>298]</a></span>
+&ldquo;To the rescue!&rdquo; shouted the heathen
+priest, snatching the pot from his head,
+and running to fill it with water.</p>
+
+<p>But Dolly could not wait, and had already
+burned a hole in her apron, and
+singed her hair, trying to save her favorites.
+Blackhawk cowered in the corner,
+stamping his hind feet, while Ada was
+pulling apart the pyre on which her dolls
+had perished.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;O, Willie, the floor is burned. Hurry,
+hurry!&rdquo; cried Dolly.</p>
+
+<p>Willie ran, deluged the burning village,
+and Dolly seized Susanna and Posy, free
+from damage, with the exception of Posy&rsquo;s
+legs, which were so long, they lay outside
+the church door, and were burned off.
+When they cleared away the ruins, there
+was a round, black spot on the floor,
+where the village had stood, and the children&rsquo;s
+hands and clothes were wet and
+grimy.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Do you think mother will care?&rdquo;
+asked Dolly, after they had looked solemnly
+at one another.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I don&rsquo;t believe she will as long as we
+did not burn any more,&rdquo; replied Willie,
+stepping back on the rest of the matches.</p>
+
+<p>They were explosive, and lighted with
+a snap that made him jump. When he
+saw what he had done, he turned the watering-pot
+over them, and put his foot on it.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Now they are safe,&rdquo; he cried. &ldquo;Let
+us bury the pieces of the village.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;No,&rdquo; said Ada. &ldquo;After I get a carrot
+for Blackhawk, let us make a raft of some
+of them, and put the rest on, and let them
+float away on the brook.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>This was speedily done, and when the
+little craft had passed the boundaries of
+their garden, Willie proposed they should
+build a dam, and some time he would put
+up a mill. They were hardly fairly at
+work when Mary called them to dinner.</p>
+
+<p>Willie took the head of the table, and
+was rather offended that Mary did not let
+him cut the meat.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;At any rate, I&rsquo;ll help the pie,&rdquo; he declared.</p>
+
+<p>Mary prudently cut the pieces before
+she put it on, and while they were eating
+it, Willie very grandly said,&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;You may go now, Mary.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>His mother usually dismissed her at
+dessert, and Willie wished to have all the
+privileges of the place he occupied. Mary
+retired with a smile, and when the first
+pieces of pie were disposed of, Willie
+offered the girls a second. It was mince
+pie, very nice and tempting; and though
+Ada knew a second piece was not generally
+allowed, she thought a holiday might
+make a difference. Dolly was busy feeding
+Prig,&mdash;a brisk Scotch terrier, with
+large, bright eyes, stiff, rough hair, and a
+tail about two inches long,&mdash;and refused.</p>
+
+<p>After dinner they returned to their dam,
+Ada and Dolly bringing the material, and
+Willie building. But Dolly became dissatisfied,
+and insisted on being allowed to
+work in the water, while Ada deserted
+altogether, and played with Blackhawk,
+whom they had let out.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Dolly,&rdquo; cried Willie, &ldquo;won&rsquo;t you go
+to my room and get my hammer? and be
+quick, for I&rsquo;ve got to hold this while you
+are gone.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>The dam was nearly finished, and both
+were much excited with the success of
+their work; for the water had collected
+in quite a pool above, and would soon
+flow over in a fine fall. Dolly ran, leaving
+the doors open behind her. Back she
+came, and Willie was carefully adjusting
+the last beam, when Ada shouted,&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Here&rsquo;s Prig, and Blackhawk&rsquo;s out.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>All three started, calling Prig, and
+running after her and Blackhawk in wild
+confusion. Prig misunderstood their
+anxiety, and supposing they were setting
+her on the rabbit, joined in the hunt.
+Poor Blackhawk tried to escape, but Prig
+caught him, gave one shake, and the pretty
+rabbit lay dead.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_299" id="Page_299">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>299]</a></span>
+&ldquo;O, you wicked dog!&rdquo; cried Ada, while
+Willie and Dolly stood quite overcome
+by the misfortune.</p>
+
+<p>Prig saw in a moment she had made a
+mistake, and when Willie rushed at her
+with uplifted hammer, hid behind the
+summer-house. With loud grief and many
+tears, the children raised their dead pet,
+and laid it on a bench in the out-house.
+Its blue eyes were half open, its soft
+black-and-white fur wet and rumpled, and
+they cried and blamed Prig as they tenderly
+arranged it on the bench. Ada
+fairly howled, and Bridget and Mary ran
+out to see what was the matter.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Ay,&rdquo; said Bridget, &ldquo;and it was Dolly
+herself left the door open, though I told
+her to shut it.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I didn&rsquo;t know Prig was there,&rdquo; sobbed
+Dolly.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;It&rsquo;s all Prig&rsquo;s fault,&rdquo; said Willie, &ldquo;and
+I&rsquo;ll kill her.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;No, no,&rdquo; pleaded Dolly, with whom
+Prig was an especial favorite.</p>
+
+<p>A consultation was held over the bench,
+and it was finally decided that the case
+should be referred to Mrs. Constant on
+her return, though Willie still vowed
+vengeance. Prig had crept back, and
+crouched in the doorway; but when the
+children saw her, they drove her away,
+throwing stones and calling her the worst
+names they could invent. She skulked
+outside very unhappy, until Willie shut
+her up in the summer-house, while the
+children spent the rest of the long afternoon
+over their dead rabbit. Dolly tied
+the Princess Widdlesbee&rsquo;s best blue sash
+about his neck, Willie emptied his toolbox
+to lay him in, and Ada spread her
+best doll&rsquo;s bed-quilt over him. Then they
+sat and cried together until Dolly started
+up, and said,&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;There&rsquo;s mother.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>The first thing Mrs. Constant heard
+when she entered the house was the cry
+of,&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Mother, mother!&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Not with the joyous ring it had in the
+morning, but with an appeal in it which
+told her some trouble had come which
+mother could best heal. All told the story
+separately and together, laying Blackhawk
+on her knees, and crying on her shoulder.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;And I&rsquo;m going to hang Prig for a
+wicked, bad dog,&rdquo; said Willie, to conclude.
+&ldquo;She is a murderer!&rdquo; and he
+fiercely wiped his tears.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;My dear little boy, I don&rsquo;t think poor
+Prig was to blame at all.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;O, mother!&rdquo; cried a mournful chorus.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;No; Dolly left the door open, you all
+excited her, and I begin to think you
+were having too much of what Willie calls
+a holiday.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;But it wasn&rsquo;t her holiday, and she&rsquo;s
+killed Blackhawk. O-o-o!&rdquo; and they all
+cried again.</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Constant soothed them, and sympathized.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Don&rsquo;t cry any more. You will be sick.
+I would not kill Prig, for then she would
+be gone too, and to-morrow you would be
+sorry. And besides, she was only trying
+to do as you wanted her to, and following
+out her doggish instinct.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>But half convinced, the children went
+to the summer-house and called Prig;
+but she would not come. Then they
+drove her out, and as she stood trembling
+before them, reproached her, and raising
+their arms, shouted,&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Go!&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Prig hesitated a moment, looked from
+one to another, then with her tail between
+her legs, her hair on end, she uttered an
+unearthly howl, and fled at full speed,
+crowded under the gate, and disappeared.</p>
+
+<p>The children went to bed early, as Mrs.
+Constant thought the excitement was bad
+for them, and in the night she was called
+to the little girl&rsquo;s room. Dolly was feverish,
+and ill with a sore throat, and Ada in
+great pain. They were sick all night, and
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_300" id="Page_300">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>300]</a></span>
+in the morning Mrs. Constant heard about
+the second piece of pie and Dolly&rsquo;s dam
+building. Her sleeves had been wet all
+the afternoon, and the grief, added to the
+pie and wet, had made them both ill.</p>
+
+<p>They were not able to go out that day,
+and Willie buried Blackhawk alone, while
+they watched him sadly from the window.
+They took their last farewell of their pet
+at the kitchen door, and would have given
+all their yesterday&rsquo;s sport to have helped
+Willie with the funeral. He had meant
+that Prig should have attended as chief
+mourner, but she was nowhere to be found.
+No one had seen her since her flight, and
+for days they could find no trace of her.
+This added to their discomfort; for they
+all loved her, and Ada and Dolly were
+confined to the house for some time, and
+wanted her to play with them.</p>
+
+<p>About a week after, on a rainy night,
+Bridget found her at the kitchen door,
+and with great difficulty persuaded her to
+come in. She was very thin and unhappy,
+and hid from the children, when they, already
+sorry for their harshness, were kind
+to her, and tried to play with her. It was
+a long time before she was the lively Prig
+she used to be, and was always a little
+lame in her left fore foot. Something had
+hurt her in those days of absence; and
+though after a while the children forgot
+their holiday and the consequences, I am
+afraid poor Prig never did.</p>
+
+<p class="sig smcap">Sara Conant.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+
+<h2><a name="Page_300lower" id="Page_300lower"></a>LET HIM LIVE.</h2>
+
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p class="cap">WHEN one sees a harmless snake,<br />
+<span class="i4">Lying torpid, scarce awake,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">On a chilly morning,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Is it well his life to take<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Without leave or warning?<br /></span></p>
+</div>
+
+<div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Pretty brown and yellow snake,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Whom the sun doth gently wake<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">In the lap of nature,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Here is room for weed and brake&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Room for every creature.<br /></span>
+</div>
+
+<div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Teach us, Nature, how to love,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Not the flower and bird alone,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Gracious man and woman&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Not the beautiful alone,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Whether brute or human.<br /></span>
+</div>
+
+<div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Teach us, that we may not wound<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Even a striped snake on the ground,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Sunshine all around him!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">We will go without a sound&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Leave him as we found him.<br /></span>
+</div>
+
+<p class="poet smcap">Mary R. Whittlesey.</p>
+</div>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_301" id="Page_301">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>301]</a></span></p>
+
+<h2>MONKEYS.</h2>
+
+
+<p><span class="dcapb"><span class="dcap">B</span></span>EFORE the advent of man, and with him civilization,
+monkeys were spread over a much larger portion of
+the earth than at present. They lived in the south of
+Europe, in England, and in France. Except a few
+of the Paviane, those of the present time are found
+only in warm climates, and are very sensitive to cold.</p>
+
+<p>Monkeys belong to the liveliest and most active of
+the mammalia. As everything eatable is acceptable to
+them, there is always something to catch, to dig, to
+gather&mdash;insects, fruits, roots, nuts, succulent herbs,
+buds, leaves, eggs, &amp;c.</p>
+
+<p>Many stories are told about the orang-outang, or
+pongo, an inhabitant of the islands of Borneo and
+Sumatra. It is the largest of the apes, being, in some
+cases, seven feet high.</p>
+
+<p>Vosmarin, a Hollander, kept a tamed pongo for a
+long time. He says, &ldquo;My pongo had rather a sad
+and downcast look, but was gentle and affectionate,
+and very fond of society, preferring those persons who
+busied themselves about it. Once it seized a bottle of
+Malaga, uncorked it, brought the wine to a secure
+place, recorked the bottle, and set it back again. This
+monkey was very fond of roasted and boiled meats,
+and sucked eggs with great delight; however it preferred
+fruits to all other food. After drinking,
+it was in the habit of wiping its
+mouth with the back of the hand, as men
+sometimes do, and it generally used a
+toothpick. It made great preparations
+before going to sleep, shaking the hay for
+its bed, and making a bundle for a pillow;
+it covered itself with any cloth or
+garment it could find.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Seeing me unlock a door, it observed
+very attentively, then put a piece of wood
+in the keyhole, and tried to turn it round.
+Having been scratched by a cat with
+which it was playing, it could never be
+induced to touch pussy again. It untied
+knots easily, and regularly practised upon
+the shoes of those who came near. It
+could lift very heavy burdens, and made
+as good use of its hind as of its fore legs;
+for example, if it could not reach a thing
+with the fore hands, it lay on its back,
+and drew the object with the hind ones.
+It never cried except when left alone. At
+first the crying resembled the howling of
+a dog, then it became rougher, and at last
+resembled the noise of a wood-saw. It
+died of consumption.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Jeffries tells of an orang-outang which
+was very neat; it frequently washed the
+floor with a cloth, after carrying away
+all remnants of food. It also washed
+its face and hands like a man. This animal
+was very affectionate towards all
+who spoke kindly, and often kissed its
+owner and waiter.</p>
+
+<div class="figcenter ipadtop" style="width: 600px;">
+<img src="images/hd124.jpg" width="600" height="457"
+alt="A monkey holding some partially eaten fruit" />
+</div>
+
+<p class="caption">THE MONKEY.</p>
+
+<p>The chimpanzee is more like man, in
+shape, than any other animal. It is from
+four to five feet high; is found in the
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_302" id="Page_302"><!-- Illustration - THE MONKEY --></a></span>
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_303" id="Page_303">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>303]</a></span>
+west part of Africa. Its strength is astonishing;
+one chimpanzee can break off
+branches of trees which two men cannot
+bend. It is kind and amiable, and very
+teachable. Captain Grantpret speaks of
+a chimpanzee, which he had on board
+ship, as follows: &ldquo;It worked with the
+sailors, casting anchor, reefing sails, &amp;c.,
+and doing its full share of work faithfully.
+The ship&rsquo;s baker depended upon it to
+heat the oven, which it did with wonderful
+care and exactness, never letting the
+coals fall, and ever getting the right heat.
+It made a peculiar motion to show that
+the oven was ready, and the baker, fully
+confiding in its judgment, was not disappointed.
+The sailors were very fond of it,
+and treated it as a companion; but the
+pilot, a cruel, heartless man, abused the
+animal, despite its pitiful looks and gestures,
+as it placed its hand upon its heart,
+and then stretched it towards him, to tell
+the pain it felt. However, it did not resent
+his continued ill-treatment, but
+refused to take any nourishment; five days
+after it died of hunger and a broken heart.
+The sailors bemoaned its loss as that of a
+companion.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>We read of another chimpanzee, which
+sat at table, ate with knife, fork, and
+spoon, drank from a wine-glass, used a
+napkin, put sugar into a cup, poured out
+tea, stirred it with a spoon, and sipped
+from the cup until cool enough to drink.</p>
+
+<p>A sick monkey is truly a pitiable object;
+it sits quiet and sad, and its look,
+as it seems to beg for help, in its distress,
+is almost human. The nearer it approaches
+its end, the gentler and milder
+it becomes; losing in its animal, it seems
+to gain in its spiritual nature. It perceives
+a benefactor in its attending physician,
+and thankfully acknowledges his
+kindness. If it has been relieved by
+bleeding, it invariably stretches out its
+arm at the doctor&rsquo;s approach, as if desiring
+to be bled again.</p>
+
+<p class="sig">L. B. U.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+
+<h2><a name="Page_303lower" id="Page_303lower"></a>MY MOTHER&rsquo;S STORIES.</h2>
+
+
+<p><span class="dropcap">I</span> RECALL a little verse my mother
+taught me one summer twilight, which,
+she remarked, she had taught the older
+children when they were little like me.
+It was this:&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;<span class="smcap">Have communion with few, be
+intimate with One, deal justly by
+all, and speak evil of none.</span>&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>And then she added cheerfully, &ldquo;It
+took some time to get your brother to
+repeat it correctly; he would say <em>untimate</em>
+for intimate, and <em>justless</em> instead of
+justly. But he learned it correctly at last,
+and, I may add, has never forgotten it.&rdquo;
+So with amusement were mother&rsquo;s good
+instructions blended; after the pleasant
+story about my brother&rsquo;s childhood it
+was impossible to forget the text.</p>
+
+<p>But, alas, I have never taught it to my
+children; so many papers, books, and
+magazines made expressly for children of
+this generation, hasten the lighting of the
+evening lamp, and the twilight lessons of
+home become fewer. But in them all, I
+never read a more comprehensive paragraph,
+and one that would do to put in
+practice in every particular so thoroughly,
+and I hope if it gets into print, not only my
+children, but those of other households,
+will commit it to memory, imbibe its spirit,
+and put it in practice through life.</p>
+
+<p class="sig">E. E.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_304" id="Page_304">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>304]</a></span></p>
+
+<div class="figcenter ipadtop" style="width: 375px;">
+<img src="images/hd125.jpg" width="375" height="600"
+alt="A little boy sails boats in a pail of water, beside a woman who has taken a break from her spinning" />
+</div>
+
+<p class="caption">SAILING THE BOATS.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_305" id="Page_305">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>305]</a></span></p>
+
+<h2>SAILING THE BOATS.</h2>
+
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p class="cap">HO! the jolly sailors,<br />
+<span class="i3">Lounging into port!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Heave ahead, my hearties&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">That&rsquo;s your lively sort!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Splendid sky above us,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Merrily goes the gale.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Stand by to launch away<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Rag and paper sail!<br /></span></p>
+</div>
+
+<div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Archie owns a schooner,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Jack a man-o&rsquo;-war,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Joe a clipper A 1<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Named the Morning Star;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Charlie sails a match-box,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Dignified a yawl;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Breakers on the lee shore&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Look out for a squall!<br /></span>
+</div>
+
+<div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Now we&rsquo;re bound for China&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">That&rsquo;s across the pond;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">When we go a-cruising<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Many a mile beyond.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Man-o&rsquo;-war is watching<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">A rakish-looking craft&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Kerchunk! goes a bullfrog<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">From his rushy raft.<br /></span>
+</div>
+
+<div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">There&rsquo;s a fleet of lilies<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">We go scudding round,&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Bumblebees for sailors,&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And they&rsquo;re fast aground.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Here&rsquo;s a drowning fly<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">In her satin dress.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">All hands, about ship!<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Signals of distress.<br /></span>
+</div>
+
+<div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Argosies of childhood,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Laden down with joys,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Gunwale-deep with treasures!<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Happy sailor boys,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">May your merry ventures<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">All their harbors win,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And upon life&rsquo;s stormy sea<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Every ship come in.<br /></span>
+</div>
+
+<p class="poet smcap">George Cooper.</p>
+</div>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_306" id="Page_306">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>306]</a></span></p>
+
+<div class="figcenter ipadboth" style="width: 306px;">
+<img src="images/hd126.jpg" width="306" height="400"
+alt="The wasp trying to get to Harry's pudding" />
+</div>
+
+<h2>IT TAKES TWO TO MAKE A QUARREL.</h2>
+
+<p class="center">A STORY FOR OUR YOUNGEST READERS.</p>
+
+
+<p><span class="dropcap">H</span>OW Harry Marshall had reckoned
+upon that piece of currant-pudding!
+The farmer&rsquo;s wife, whose name was Jolly
+(and a very fit name for her it was), had
+promised him a plateful for dinner, because
+he had taken such good care of her pet
+brood of chickens while she had been
+away from Elm Tree Farm on a visit.</p>
+
+<p>Harry was a farmer&rsquo;s lad, ten years old,
+tall and stout for his age, and able to do
+a great many more things than some city
+boys of fourteen. He could ride and
+drive, keep the stable in order, and even
+handle a plough. Nor was he a dunce;
+for, thanks to an evening school, which
+some of his Sunday teachers had opened
+in the village, he had learned to read and
+write very fairly. He had a comfortable
+place at farmer Jolly&rsquo;s; but there was
+plenty of work to do, and the food was
+plain, though he always had enough; so
+he did not get pudding every day. No
+wonder, then, that he should go to bed
+and dream about that particular currant-pudding
+of which I am writing. You must
+not suppose that this was made with such
+&ldquo;currants&rdquo; as are put into a <em>Christmas</em>
+pudding; they are only small <em>grapes</em>.
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_307" id="Page_307">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>307]</a></span>
+No; it was a real currant-pudding, full of
+nice red fruit and juice, enough to make
+your mouth water.</p>
+
+<p>The long morning&rsquo;s work was at last
+over, and Harry, nothing loath, hastened
+in and took his place at the side table in
+the kitchen, where he usually sat. His
+plate of meat and potatoes was soon
+cleared, for the boy&rsquo;s appetite had been
+sharpened by several hours in the fields.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;And now, Harry,&rdquo; said Martha, the
+servant, &ldquo;here&rsquo;s your pudding, and a nice
+piece it is; but you mustn&rsquo;t be long about
+it, for John and Peter will want you back
+in the field; they have been gone this
+half hour.&rdquo; So saying, Martha placed
+the longed-for treat before Harry, and
+went out to attend to some work in the
+farm-yard.</p>
+
+<p>Just at that moment a wasp, who had
+grown tired of buzzing about the peaches
+in the garden, and trying in vain to get at
+them (for Peter had covered them with
+network), peeped in at the window with
+one of his many eyes, and, spying Master
+Harry&rsquo;s pudding, thought, I suppose, that
+he should like a share. So, without waiting
+to be invited, he flew in with a loud
+hum, and made straight for the table, just
+as Harry had stuck his fork into the first
+piece of crust.</p>
+
+<p>Now, our farmer&rsquo;s boy, though he liked
+pudding, did not like wasps, which he fancied
+were always ready to sting; and being
+himself rather hasty in temper, he at once
+declared war against the little intruder.
+First he hit at it with his knife, but without
+success; and then with his fork, but
+only with this result&mdash;that the pudding,
+instead of going into Harry&rsquo;s mouth, flew
+under the grate among the ashes, while
+the wasp seemed to be humming a song
+of defiance.</p>
+
+<p>Harry grew red in the face, and vowed
+vengeance against &ldquo;the nasty thing;&rdquo; but
+&ldquo;the nasty thing&rdquo; would not come and
+be killed. Seizing a large wooden
+pudding spoon, which lay close at hand,
+Harry jumped on one of the wooden
+chairs and aimed a desperate blow at the
+poor insect. But Yellow-band was too
+sharp for him, and Harry, losing his
+balance, fell down with a thump on the
+sanded floor, while his weapon, spinning
+across the kitchen, came in contact with
+one of Mrs. Jolly&rsquo;s basins, and brought it
+down with a crash. In rushed Martha in
+a fright, and, worse still, farmer Jolly&rsquo;s
+round, good-natured face appeared close
+behind.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Bless the boy,&rdquo; cried Martha, &ldquo;what
+have you been up to now?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Why&mdash;why,&rdquo; said Harry, rubbing his
+shoulder and looking ruefully at the broken
+china, &ldquo;it was all that horrid wasp.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;And why couldn&rsquo;t you leave the wasp
+alone?&rdquo; retorted Martha, angrily, as she
+picked up some of the pieces.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Ay, boy,&rdquo; said farmer Jolly, &ldquo;why
+couldn&rsquo;t you leave the wasp alone, eh?
+Why couldn&rsquo;t you leave it alone?&rdquo; he repeated,
+catching Harry by the arm with a
+grip that made him wince.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Please, sir&mdash;please, sir,&rdquo; stammered
+the boy, &ldquo;I thought the nasty&mdash;the wasp
+I mean&mdash;was going to sting me.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Stuff and nonsense,&rdquo; replied the
+farmer; &ldquo;if you don&rsquo;t interfere with the
+wasps, the wasps won&rsquo;t interfere with you.
+How often have I told you that <em>it takes
+two to make a quarrel</em>? Now you have
+wasted your time, spoiled your dinner,
+and done mischief; so you had better be
+off to your work, and Martha will put the
+pudding away till to-morrow.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Harry hastened out, looking very foolish,
+and feeling very much disappointed.
+&ldquo;I wish I&rsquo;d left the wasp alone,&rdquo; he said
+to himself; &ldquo;then I shouldn&rsquo;t have lost the
+pudding. The farmer says, &lsquo;It takes two
+to make a quarrel,&rsquo; and I suppose it does.
+At that rate we needn&rsquo;t quarrel at all,
+unless we like. I&rsquo;ll think about that, so I
+will.&rdquo; And so he did; and when he felt
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_308" id="Page_308">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>308]</a></span>
+inclined to quarrel, not only with wasps,
+but with boys, he checked himself by
+calling to mind farmer Jolly&rsquo;s words.</p>
+
+<p>And I am of opinion that, if the boys
+and girls who read this story would remember
+it too, they would escape many
+unpleasant and disagreeable things, and
+be more likely to have a really happy
+year. For a far wiser Teacher than
+farmer Jolly once said, &ldquo;Blessed (or
+happy) are the peacemakers.&rdquo;</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+
+<div class="figcenter ipadboth" style="width: 530px;">
+<a name="Page_308lower" id="Page_308lower"></a>
+<img src="images/hd127.jpg" width="530" height="400"
+alt="Suvaroff makes a speech to some of his soldiers" />
+</div>
+
+<h2>A GOOD WORD NOT LOST.</h2>
+
+
+<p><span class="dropcap">F</span>IELD-MARSHAL ALEXANDER
+SUVAROFF, the commander-in-chief
+of the Russian army during the
+reigns of Catharine II. and Paul I., was
+especially fond of mixing with the common
+soldiers, and sharing in their sports
+and conversations, being always highly
+delighted when his men failed to discover
+him; and this happened pretty often, for,
+thanks to his small stature and ugly face,
+as well as the extreme plainness of his
+dress, the great marshal looked as little
+like a general as any man could do. In
+this way he got to understand thoroughly
+the character of his soldiers, and had a
+greater power over them than any Russian
+general before or after him. His marvellous
+power of enduring fatigue, his insensibility
+to heat, cold, or hunger, and his
+untiring energy on the field of battle (in
+all which points he surpassed the hardiest
+of his grenadiers), made him the idol of
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_309" id="Page_309">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>309]</a></span>
+the rough soldiers whom he commanded;
+and a word of reproof from Father Alexander
+Vasilievitch, as his men affectionately
+called him, was more dreaded than
+the fire of a battery.</p>
+
+<p>Before one of his Italian campaigns,
+Suvaroff gathered together a number of
+his best men, and made them one of the
+short pithy speeches for which he was
+famous, and some of which are remembered
+among the peasantry to this
+day:&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;My children, we are going to fight the
+French. Remember, whatever you meet,
+<em>you must go forward</em>. If the enemy
+resist, kill them; but if they yield, spare
+them; and always remember that a
+Russian soldier is not a robber, but a
+Christian. Now, go and tell your comrades
+what I have said!&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>A few days later a great battle took
+place, in which the day went against the
+French, who began to retreat about sunset;
+and a soldier named Ivan Mitrophanoff,
+who had distinguished himself by
+his bravery throughout the whole day,
+captured, with the help of a comrade who
+was with him, a French officer and two
+of his men. Mitrophanoff bound up the
+officer&rsquo;s wounded arm, and seeing that
+the prisoners appeared faint from want
+of food, shared with them the coarse rye
+loaf which was to have served him for
+supper. He had scarcely done so, when
+up came three or four Russian grenadiers,
+hot with fighting, and raising furious
+cries.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;What,&rdquo; cried they, &ldquo;three of these
+French dogs living yet!&rdquo; and they ran
+upon the prisoners with levelled bayonets.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Hold, my lads!&rdquo; cried Mitrophanoff.
+&ldquo;I&rsquo;ve given them their lives, and no one
+must touch them now!&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>But the soldiers would not listen to
+him, and were rushing forward, when
+a stern voice from behind shouted,
+&ldquo;Halt!&rdquo; and a little, pugnosed, dirty-faced
+man, dressed only in a coarse
+linen shirt and a pair of tattered gray
+trousers, stepped into the circle. But,
+ragged and dirty as he was, the fierce
+soldiers could not have looked more
+frightened had he been a giant in full
+armor.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;The general!&rdquo; muttered they, slinking
+off.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Ay, the general!&rdquo; roared Suvaroff,
+&ldquo;who will have some of you shot presently,
+if you can&rsquo;t learn to obey orders better!
+And you,&rdquo; he added, turning to Mitrophanoff,
+&ldquo;who taught you to be so good?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Your highness&rsquo; own self taught me,&rdquo;
+answered the grenadier. &ldquo;I haven&rsquo;t forgotten
+what you told us last week&mdash;that
+a Russian soldier is not a robber, but a
+Christian!&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Right!&rdquo; exclaimed Suvaroff, with a
+brightening face. &ldquo;A good word is never
+lost, you see. Give me your hand, my
+lad; you shall be a sergeant to-morrow,
+and a right good one you&rsquo;ll make!&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>And the next day he made good his
+word.</p>
+
+<div class="figcenter ipadboth" style="width: 200px;">
+<img src="images/hd128.png" width="200" height="22"
+alt="Decoration" />
+</div>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_310" id="Page_310">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>310]</a></span></p>
+
+<h2>PONTO.</h2>
+
+
+<p><span class="dropcap">O</span>UR dog Ponto is a knowing old fellow. It is as good as a
+show to watch him sometimes. He has one quality that
+most of us might seek after with advantage&mdash;that is, a will
+to overcome difficulties that scarcely anything can hinder. If
+Ponto takes it into his head to do anything, he is pretty sure to
+succeed. What helps his dogship is the faculty of imitation.
+He is like a monkey in this, only a great deal more sensible
+than any monkey I ever heard tell of. You never catch him
+venturing upon unknown danger, or making himself ridiculous,
+because his human friends and companions choose to step aside
+from the ways of safety and respectability.</p>
+
+<p>One day, a few years ago, Ponto was missing. He had been
+about as usual during the morning, but all at once disappeared.
+A neighbor told us that he had seen him fighting with the
+butcher&rsquo;s dog about noon, and that he was getting the worst
+of it. I went over to the butcher&rsquo;s during the afternoon, and
+the butcher&rsquo;s boy confirmed the neighbor&rsquo;s story. Ponto had
+come over there for a fight, as the boy said, and &ldquo;got more
+than he bargained for.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;He&rsquo;ll not try it again very soon, I&rsquo;m thinking,&rdquo; added the
+boy, with a malicious pleasure.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Do you know where he is now?&rdquo; I asked.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Home, I suppose. He went off that way, limping,&rdquo; answered
+the boy.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Was he much hurt?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Considerable, I guess.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>I went back home, but no one had seen Ponto. I was beginning
+to feel anxious about the dog, when he was found in
+one of the third-story rooms, snugly covered up in bed, with
+his head on the pillow. On turning down the clothes a sight
+met our eyes. The sheets were all stained with blood, and the
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_311" id="Page_311"><!-- Illustration - PONTO --></a></span>
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_312" id="Page_312">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>312]</a></span>
+poor dog, hurt and exhausted, looked as helpless and pitiful
+as any human being.</p>
+
+<div class="figcenter ipadtop" style="width: 600px;">
+<img src="images/hd129.jpg" width="600" height="434"
+alt="Ponto standing, looking attentive" />
+</div>
+
+<p class="caption">PONTO.</p>
+
+<p>I will not tell you of all the wounds he had received. There
+were a great many of them, and some quite severe. &ldquo;A good
+lesson for him,&rdquo; we all said. And it proved so, for he was a
+little more careful after that how he got into a fight.</p>
+
+<p>A few months before, I had been thrown from a wagon and
+badly hurt&mdash;so much so that I was confined to bed for a week.
+Ponto was with me at the time of the accident, and on my
+arrival at home followed me into the house and up to the
+chamber where I was taken. He watched every movement as
+I was laid in bed, and then sat down with his eyes on my pale
+face, regarding me with such looks of pity and interest that I
+was touched and surprised.</p>
+
+<p>When Ponto&rsquo;s turn came, he remembered the comfortable
+way in which I had been cared for, and profited by what he had
+seen. But his mistress, while she pitied the poor animal, did
+not fancy having her spare bedroom turned into a dog-hospital;
+and so we removed him to an out-house and made
+him as comfortable there as possible.</p>
+
+<p>One cold winter evening Ponto was absent from his accustomed
+place in the hall, where he slept on a mat. The wind
+was high and there was a confusion of sounds outside.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Hark!&rdquo; said one.</p>
+
+<p>We all listened.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I thought I heard a knock at the hall door.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Only the wind,&rdquo; was replied.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Yes; there it is again.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>We all heard two distinct knocks, given quickly one after
+the other.</p>
+
+<p>I arose, and going into the hall went to the front door and
+opened it. As I did so Ponto bounded in past me, gave two
+or three short, glad barks, and then paid his boisterous respects
+to the family in the sitting-room. I waited a moment, and then
+stepped out to see who had lifted the knocker, but found no
+one. Ponto had done it himself, as we had proof enough afterward;
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_313" id="Page_313">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>313]</a></span>
+for ever since that time he has used the knocker as
+regularly as any two-legged member of the family.</p>
+
+<p>I could tell you stories for a whole evening about Ponto,
+but these two must answer for the present.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+
+<h2><a name="Page_313lower" id="Page_313lower"></a>BRUIN AT A MAPLE-SUGAR PARTY.</h2>
+
+
+<p><span class="dropcap">O</span>NE evening near the first of April,
+three years ago this spring, I was
+making my way the best I could down
+from the west branch of the Penobscot
+River towards the plantation of Nikertou.
+(Up in Maine they call an unincorporated
+town a plantation. Down south
+the word has a different meaning.) How
+and why I came to be in that wild section,
+at the hour of twilight, may need a
+word in explanation.</p>
+
+<p>A month previously I had been sent
+up to the &ldquo;Head of Chesuncook&rdquo; from
+Bangor, by the lumbering firm of which
+my uncle was a member, to pay off one
+of their &ldquo;gangs,&rdquo; which made the &ldquo;head&rdquo;
+of that lake a sort of depot and place of
+rendezvous.</p>
+
+<p>Both going up and coming back as far
+as the foot of Lake Pemadumcook, I had
+had with me, as guide and armed protector,
+an old hunter named Hughy Clives. But
+on getting down to the foot of this lake,
+and within six or eight miles of Nikertou,
+old Hughy had been seized with a
+sudden desire to leave me and to go
+to Millinocket Lake in quest of otters;
+and so giving me my &ldquo;course&rdquo; for Nikertou,
+he had bidden me &ldquo;good luck,&rdquo;
+and again started northward.</p>
+
+<p>It was a warm, spring-like afternoon,
+though the snow in that region still lay
+to the depth of three or four feet; but on
+my snow-shoes I didn&rsquo;t mind the depth;
+the main thing was to keep out of the
+brush and the dense hemlock and cedar
+thickets.</p>
+
+<p>It was about two o&rsquo;clock when I left
+the river; and I had expected to get
+down to the little &ldquo;settlement&rdquo; by sunset.
+But the sun went below the distant
+spruce-clad ridges, and dusk fell, with as
+yet no signs of a &ldquo;clearing.&rdquo; Had I lost
+my way? My little pocket-compass said
+I was all right&mdash;if Hughy had given me
+a correct course; and I had all confidence
+in the old man too. Still, as the twilight
+deepened around me, with the unbroken
+forest stretching drearily ahead, I began
+to feel rather uneasy; especially as (since
+parting with Hughy and his rifle) I had
+no weapon save a jack-knife and a little
+pocket-pistol I had brought along with
+me from Bangor&mdash;not very effective
+arms in case a catamount should take
+it into his head to drop down upon me
+from a tree-top, or a big black bear to
+step out from behind one of those low
+hemlocks, or even a cross old &ldquo;lucivee&rdquo;
+to rush out from some of those thick cedar
+clumps. For thoughts of these things
+had begun to pop into my mind. I was
+but seventeen then, and hadn&rsquo;t quite outgrown
+my fear of the dark. And thus
+plodding timorously onward, thinking on
+many things injurious to a boy&rsquo;s courage,
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_314" id="Page_314">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>314]</a></span>
+I had begun to think I should have to
+make a night of it there, somewhere,
+when the red gleam of a fire, from the
+crest of the ridge before me, suddenly
+burst out on the darkness, banishing all
+my fears. For a fire, whether in a hunter&rsquo;s
+camp or a farm-house window, is
+good evidence of man&rsquo;s presence, with
+food and shelter&mdash;the two great wants
+of the belated.</p>
+
+<div class="figcenter ipadboth" style="width: 460px;">
+<img src="images/hd130.jpg" width="460" height="400"
+alt="The bear invades the sugar party camp" />
+</div>
+
+<p>Hurrying on, I made my way up the
+slope. The fire seemed to be in the open
+air, among trees&mdash;a woodman&rsquo;s camp
+probably; and, knowing that these men
+are sometimes a little <em>ticklish</em> about
+having strangers come too suddenly
+into their night camps, I halted, while
+yet at some distance, for a good look
+ahead.</p>
+
+<p>There seemed to be several large kettles,
+slung with chains from a &ldquo;lug-pole&rdquo;
+supported by strong crotched stakes at
+each end&mdash;a circumstance which struck
+me as a little odd at a hunting-fire. No
+one was in sight, though a sort of half
+shelter of hemlock might contain the
+campers. Whatever they were, it would
+be well to hail them. So, calling in my
+breath, I gave a loud &ldquo;hullo.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Two dusky figures rose from the shelter,
+and looked out towards me into the
+darkness.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Hullo!&rdquo; I repeated; and in response
+heard a clear boyish voice exclaiming,&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Who&rsquo;s there?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Belated tramper.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Well, walk up, Mr. Tramper, where
+we can see what you are.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>I moved up to be seen, and on my
+part saw a couple of youngsters, of about
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_315" id="Page_315">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>315]</a></span>
+my own age, who were tending what
+turned out to be a sugar-camp.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Where from?&rdquo; demanded the taller
+of the two.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Head of Chesuncook. Going to Bangor.
+Can I stay here to-night?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Of course you can. Had any supper?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Not a mouthful.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Something left&mdash;wasn&rsquo;t there, Zeke?&rdquo;
+said he, turning to his comrade, who was
+now pouring cold sap into the &ldquo;heater.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Enough for one, I guess,&rdquo; said Zeke;
+and, taking a bucket and a wooden bowl
+from under the hemlock, he produced
+a slab of johnny-cake from the former,
+and, pouring out something like a quart
+of maple sirup into the latter, bade me
+&ldquo;go ahead.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>I did so without further invitation, and
+never made a better supper, the programme
+being to dip the bread into the
+sirup, mouthful by mouthful.</p>
+
+<p>The boys were now preparing their
+night&rsquo;s wood.</p>
+
+<p>There had been, they said, &ldquo;an excellent
+run of sap&rdquo; during the last few days.
+The kettles were kept boiling day and
+night, steadily. It was truly a wild scene.
+Clouds of steam gushed up from the
+surging kettles; and the fires gleamed
+brighter as the darkness deepened, while
+all about us seemed a wall of blackness.
+But my long tramp had thoroughly tired
+me down, and my recollections of the
+remainder of the evening are a little
+drowsy, though I learned in the course
+of it that the names of the two youthful
+sugar-makers, upon whose camp I had
+stumbled, were Zeke Murch and Sam
+Bubar; and I also helped to take off a
+large kettle of hot sirup, which we set in
+a snow-drift, two or three rods from the
+fire, to cool. This done, I was soon
+asleep, rolled up in an old coverlet, and
+knew very little till, hearing voices, I
+opened my eyes to the fact that the sun
+was staring me in the face from over the
+eastward ridge, as if surprised at my
+sloth.</p>
+
+<p>Hastily unrolling myself, I saw Sam
+and Zeke out at the kettle we had set in
+the snow, pointing and excitedly discussing
+something.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Old scamp!&rdquo; exclaimed Zeke. &ldquo;What
+work he&rsquo;s made here!&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;All this sugar gone&mdash;spoiled!&rdquo; cried
+Sam.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;What is it?&rdquo; said I, going out to
+them. &ldquo;What&rsquo;s the matter?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Why,&rdquo; said Sam, turning and laughing
+in spite of his vexation, &ldquo;something
+has <em>guzzled</em> up &rsquo;most the whole of this
+&lsquo;honey&rsquo; we set out here last night. Only
+see there!&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>The kettle, which must have held several
+pailfuls, was nearly empty; and what
+was left hadn&rsquo;t a very inviting look certainly.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;What in the world ate all that?&rdquo;
+cried I.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Well&mdash;a bear, we expect,&rdquo; said Zeke.
+&ldquo;There&rsquo;s been one hanging round here
+for several nights. We heard him <em>hoot
+out</em>, down in the swamp, ever so many
+times, after you had gone to sleep last
+night. Didn&rsquo;t think he&rsquo;d come up so
+near the fire, though. But we both got
+to sleep a little while after midnight. I
+suppose he must have <em>lushed</em> up the sirup
+then.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Tremendous fellow, too,&rdquo; said Sam.
+&ldquo;Look at those tracks!&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Tracks indeed! There in the snow
+about the kettle were his broad, deep
+footmarks, long as a man&rsquo;s boot, and
+much wider, pressed down, too, into the
+snow, as only great weight could have
+pressed.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Gracious!&rdquo; exclaimed I, &ldquo;you wouldn&rsquo;t
+have caught me going to sleep here if I
+had known there was such a monster as
+that round!&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Rather lucky, I think,&rdquo; said Zeke,
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_316" id="Page_316">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>316]</a></span>
+&ldquo;that he didn&rsquo;t take it into his head to
+<em>top off</em> his sirup with some of us.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;And I&rsquo;m mad, too,&rdquo; continued Zeke.
+&ldquo;We were depending on this kittle of
+sirup for our party to-night.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Your party?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Yes; we&rsquo;ve invited a lot of the boys&mdash;and
+girls, too&mdash;to come up here this
+evening, to make &lsquo;sheep-skins.&rsquo; You&rsquo;ll
+stay&mdash;won&rsquo;t you? We were going to
+ask you.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Don&rsquo;t know,&rdquo; said I, still thinking of
+the bear.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;O, I don&rsquo;t think he&rsquo;ll meddle with
+us,&rdquo; said Sam, guessing at my hesitation.
+&ldquo;I&rsquo;m going down to get some <em>fixins</em>, and
+shall bring up a gun. If he calls again,
+he may get a dose of buckshot.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>No one is apt to be a great coward
+after the sun is up. Thus reassured, I
+concluded to stop to the party, for which
+the boys were intending to make a great
+preparation.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Let&rsquo;s do the thing up in style now,&rdquo;
+said Sam.</p>
+
+<p>We went at it. First we cut low,
+shrubby evergreens, hemlocks mostly,
+and with these made a sort of enclosure,
+some four rods in diameter, around the
+kettles, by planting them in the snow.
+Then clipping off an immense quantity
+of smaller boughs, we strewed the snow
+inside the enclosure with these. We thus
+had a sort of green room (without any
+roof), in the centre of which steamed the
+boiling kettles; and at the entrance, or
+doorway, we made a grand arch of cedar.
+For seats we rolled in &ldquo;four-foot&rdquo; cuts
+from the trunk of a large poplar they had
+lately felled, first splitting off a slab from
+the side of each to form a seat, which we
+cushioned with cedar.</p>
+
+<p>Meanwhile another kettle of sirup was
+boiling down to supply the place of
+that the bear had drank; and filling
+some fifteen or twenty sap-buckets with
+clean snow, crowded down hard to make
+the &ldquo;sheep-skins&rdquo; on, we were ready for
+our company.</p>
+
+<p>It was nearly night before all this had
+been completed. Sam had been down to
+the &ldquo;settlement&rdquo; and brought up a quantity
+of bread to go with our honey; and
+I was glad to see that he hadn&rsquo;t forgotten
+the gun; for, as night began to close in
+again, I couldn&rsquo;t help remembering the
+great tracks out there in the snow-drift.
+As it grew dark and the fire began to
+shine on the green boughs, our scenery
+looked even better than by daylight; and
+for beacons to our incoming guests, we
+fixed torches of pitch-wood upon stakes
+thrust into the snow around our camp,
+and at several points out in the woods,
+like lamp-posts in a town.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Quite a show,&rdquo; said Sam, surveying
+the preparation. &ldquo;How changed and odd
+it makes it look all about!&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Ere long voices began to be heard
+coming up through the woods,&mdash;merry
+shouts and hails,&mdash;to which the boys responded,
+bidding them hurry, and promising
+a big &ldquo;sheep-skin&rdquo; to the one who
+first got up there.</p>
+
+<p>A chorus of merry cries and laughter
+followed this announcement; and in a
+few moments a racing, panting crowd of a
+dozen boys and girls came up in sight,
+and poured under the arch&mdash;sturdy lads,
+and lasses in red frocks and checked
+aprons. And here be it said that a
+girl&mdash;a certain rosy Nell Ridley&mdash;won
+the sheep-skin by being the first under
+the archway. But the others were not
+far behind, and in another moment our
+green arena was swarming with the young
+folks.</p>
+
+<p>Though a stranger, I soon found myself
+acquainted and on the best of terms
+with everybody. Sheep-skins were now
+being run by the dozen, the process being
+to pour hot sirup upon the cold, hard-pressed
+snow in the buckets, where it
+instantly cooled, becoming tough and of
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_317" id="Page_317">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>317]</a></span>
+the color of sheep-skin. And if one has
+a &ldquo;sweet tooth,&rdquo; nothing among all the
+&ldquo;sugars&rdquo; can compare with a maple
+sheep-skin.</p>
+
+<p>We all had <em>sweet teeth</em> there, and were
+in the midst of a furious romp around
+the kettles in chase of Nell, whom some
+one had accused of appropriating &ldquo;the
+great one,&rdquo; when somebody suddenly
+cried,&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Hark!&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>There was an instant hush; when clear
+on the evening air there came a wild cry&mdash;a
+long, quavering &ldquo;Hoo-oo-oo.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Bear! A bear!&rdquo; exclaimed several
+of the boys, to whom bruin&rsquo;s nightly cries
+were but familiar sounds. But save that
+a few of the girls looked a little startled,
+no one seemed to be much alarmed. I
+saw Zeke looking to the priming of the
+old gun, though; and for a while we were
+pretty whist, listening; but the cry, which
+had seemed at a considerable distance,
+was not repeated. Indeed, in the merriment
+which soon succeeded, the most of
+us had entirely forgotten it, I think. At
+least we were all in the midst of another
+scrimmage over the &ldquo;last biscuit,&rdquo; when
+a loud snort, like that of a startled horse,
+a sort of &ldquo;woof! woof!&rdquo; accompanied
+by a great rustling in our evergreen
+hedge, startled us; and turning, we saw&mdash;I
+shall never forget the sight&mdash;an
+enormous black creature coming through
+our <em>fence</em>, with all the independence of a
+sole proprietor! Of course, as Zeke afterwards
+expressed it, &ldquo;if <em>he</em> was <em>coming
+in</em>, we wanted to <em>go out</em>.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>The girls were not of the fainting sort;
+but they did scream some, and we all
+sprang away like cats through the opposite
+side of the hedge. The gun had
+been left standing near the place where
+the bear had broken in, and was not to be
+got at, of course. But, catching out my
+pistol, as we scrambled through the hemlock,
+I discharged it at the old fellow,
+hitting him, I guess; for he growled and
+came straight after me. &rsquo;Twas no time
+to be loitering. Down the slope we all
+ran together, slumping and sprawling full
+length in the soft snow! Up and on
+again, knocking out spiles and kicking
+over sap-buckets, bumping and grazing
+ourselves against the rough bark of the
+maples; for it was pitch dark in the
+woods. But on we went for dear life,
+expecting every moment to feel the bear&rsquo;s
+teeth or claws from behind. At first I
+had a sort of impression that we boys
+should have to wait and put ourselves
+between the girls and the bear; but I
+soon found I had all I could do to keep up
+with them. Such girls to run I never
+saw before! And we never stopped till,
+at a distance of a mile below, the forest
+opened out into a cleared field.</p>
+
+<p>There we began to discover that the
+bear was not after us, and gradually came
+to a halt. After getting breath, however,
+we kept on&mdash;at a little slower pace, though&mdash;down
+to the &ldquo;corners,&rdquo; where, after seeing
+the girls to their respective dwellings,
+guns were procured, and, rallying out
+Mr. Bubar and Mr. Murch, senior, with
+several other men, we all started back to
+hunt up the bear. Going quietly up
+through the woods, we cautiously approached
+to a point where the gap we
+had made in rushing out of our enclosure
+enabled us to see what was going on inside;
+and there by the firelight we beheld
+the bear sitting cosily before the coals,
+and gazing wistfully into the boiling kettles.
+He had probably found them too
+hot for his use.</p>
+
+<p>Raising their guns, the men all fired
+together&mdash;a murderous volley of bullets
+and buckshot. Rearing upon his haunches
+with a sullen growl, old bruin glared
+around a moment, then fell over backwards,
+and, with a few dying kicks and
+groans, was dead. And this was the end
+of Bruin and the maple-sugar party.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_318" id="Page_318">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>318]</a></span></p>
+
+<div class="figcenter ipadtop" style="width: 600px;">
+<img src="images/hd131.jpg" width="600" height="360"
+alt="A pair of adult elephants" />
+</div>
+
+<p class="caption">THE AFRICAN ELEPHANT.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_319" id="Page_319">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>319]</a></span></p>
+
+<h2>THE AFRICAN ELEPHANT.</h2>
+
+
+<p><span class="dropcap">T</span>HERE is not the least difficulty in
+distinguishing the Asiatic from the
+African elephant. The ears of the former
+are comparatively small, only reaching a
+little below the eyes, while the ears of the
+African species are of enormous dimensions,
+actually crossing on the back of
+the neck, drooping far below the chin,
+and extending beyond the shoulder-blade.
+Generally, the ears are laid so flatly against
+the neck, that they seem almost to form
+part of the skin of the head and shoulders;
+but when the creature is suddenly roused,
+the ears are thrown forward, and stand
+out so boldly, that they look more like
+wings than ears. Towards the lower part
+the ears form themselves into slight folds,
+which are not without some degree of
+elegance.</p>
+
+<p>The end of the trunk also differs from
+that of the Asiatic species. In that animal
+a kind of finger projects from the
+upper part of the extremity; but in the
+African species the end of the trunk is
+split so far, that the two lobes act as opposable
+fingers, and serve to grasp any
+object which the animal desires to hold.
+This structure can easily be seen by offering
+the animal a piece of biscuit. The
+forehead, too, affords another means of
+distinction, being convex in the African,
+and flat or slightly concave in the Asiatic.</p>
+
+<p>Another very decided difference lies in
+the teeth. These enormous engines of
+mastication are made up of a number of
+flat plates laid side by side, and composed
+of enamel and bone. In the Asiatic species
+these plates are nearly oval in form,
+and may be imitated by taking a piece of
+cardboard, rolling it into a tube, and then
+pressing it until it is nearly flat. But in
+the African species these plates are of a
+diamond shape, and may be rudely
+imitated by taking the same cardboard tube,
+and squeezing it nearly flat at each end,
+leaving the centre to project. In consequence
+of these distinctions, several systematic
+zo&ouml;logists have thought that the
+African elephant ought to be placed in a
+separate genus, and have therefore called
+it <i>Loxodonta Africana</i>, the former of
+these words signifying &ldquo;oblique-toothed.&rdquo;
+I think, however, that there are no real
+grounds for such a change, and that the
+genus Elephas is amply sufficient for both
+species.</p>
+
+<p>The enormous ears of the African elephant
+are not without their use to the
+hunter, who finds in them an invaluable
+aid in repairing damages to his wagons
+and guns. Even if a gun-stock be
+smashed,&mdash;an accident which is of no
+very unfrequent occurrence in South African
+hunting,&mdash;a large piece of elephant&rsquo;s
+ear, put on while fresh and wet, and allowed
+to dry in the sun, sets matters right
+again, and binds the fragments together
+as if they were enclosed in iron. Sometimes
+the ear seems to be a protection to
+the animal; for it is so tough and strong,
+despite its pliability, that the hunter will
+occasionally find several bullets lodged in
+the ear, which have not been able to penetrate
+through a substance at once tough
+and flexible.</p>
+
+<p>This species is of a thirsty nature, so
+that wherever elephant paths are seen, the
+hunter knows that he is not very far from
+water of some kind. And as elephants
+have a fashion of travelling in Indian file,
+it is easy enough to trace their footsteps,
+and so to find the water. The animals go
+to drink in the evening, as do many other
+wild beasts, and the quantity which they
+consume is enormous. They go close to
+the water&rsquo;s edge, insert the end of the
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_320" id="Page_320">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>320]</a></span>
+trunk into the liquid, draw it up until the
+two nostril-tubes are full, turn the end of
+the trunk into the mouth, and then discharge
+the contents into the stomach.
+When satiated, they amuse themselves
+for a while by blowing water all over their
+bodies, and then retrace their steps to the
+forest glades whence they came.</p>
+
+<p>The enormous quantity of water which
+they carry home within them has a rather
+curious effect. At tolerably regular intervals
+a loud, rumbling sound is heard, much
+resembling the &ldquo;glug-glug&rdquo; produced by
+pouring wine out of a bottle, and lasting
+a few seconds. Were it not for this phenomenon,
+the hunters would meet with far
+less success than at present is the case.
+When hiding from a foe, the elephant can
+remain motionless, so that not a cracking
+stick nor a rustling leaf betrays its presence.
+But it cannot prevent this periodical
+rumbling; and accordingly, when a
+hunter is in the bush after elephants, he
+sits down every few minutes, and waits,
+in order to catch the sound which tells
+him that elephants are near. Even in the
+semi-domesticated specimens at the London
+Zo&ouml;logical Gardens, this sound is
+easily to be heard.</p>
+
+<p>The African elephant is more hunted
+than the Asiatic species, and affords better
+sport and greater profit to the hunter.
+It seems to be a fiercer, more active, and
+probably a more cunning animal, and,
+owing to the character of the country
+through which it ranges, it seems to be
+of a more nomad disposition. The chase
+of the African elephant appears to exercise
+a kind of fascination over its votaries,
+like the chase of the chamois among the
+Swiss mountaineers; and when a hunter
+has fairly settled down to the business, he
+cannot tear himself away from it without
+exercising great self-denial. Perhaps few
+sports are encompassed with greater difficulties
+and dangers, or involve greater
+hardships; and yet the wild, free, roving
+life has such charms, that even a highly-educated
+European can scarcely make up
+his mind to return to civilization.</p>
+
+<p>In the first place, elephant hunting is
+not, as are many sports, an expensive
+amusement. On the contrary, a hunter
+who possesses a sufficiency of skill, courage,
+and endurance will be able not only
+to cover his expenses, but to pay himself
+handsomely for his trouble. There is
+certainly a very large expenditure at the
+outset; for a hunter will need two wagons,
+with a whole drove of oxen, several
+good and seasoned horses, a small arsenal
+of guns, with ammunition to match,
+provisions for a lengthened period, and
+plenty of beads and other articles which
+can be bartered for ivory. Moreover, a
+number of native servants must be kept,
+and the amount of meat which they consume
+daily is almost appalling.</p>
+
+<p>Then there are always great losses to
+be counted upon. The cattle get among
+the dread Tzetse flies, and die off in a few
+hours; the horses catch the &ldquo;paardsikte&rdquo;
+(a kind of murrain), or tumble into pitfalls;
+wagons break down, servants run away
+with guns, native chiefs detain the wagons
+for weeks, together with a host of minor
+drawbacks. Still, if a man is worthy of
+the name of hunter, and boldly faces these
+difficulties, he will pay himself well, provided
+that his health holds out&mdash;there
+are so many valuable articles to be brought
+from Southern Africa, such as the horns
+and furs of animals, the skins of birds,
+ostrich feathers, and ivory.</p>
+
+<p>The teeth of the elephant, too, are valuable,
+and are made into various articles
+of use and ornament. A set of knife-handles
+made of elephant&rsquo;s tooth is sometimes
+to be seen, and I have now before
+me an excellent specimen of a knife-handle,
+which shows the alternate rows of
+enamel and bone in a very striking manner,
+and is certainly a much handsomer
+article than a handle made of simple ivory.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_321" id="Page_321">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>321]</a></span></p>
+
+<div class="figcenter ipadtop" style="width: 600px;">
+<img src="images/hd132.jpg" width="600" height="456"
+alt="An adult elephant with long tusks" />
+</div>
+
+<p class="caption">THE ELEPHANT.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_322" id="Page_322">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>322]</a></span>
+The elephant is, indeed, one of the most
+eccentric of animals. There is no possibility
+of calculating upon it, and nothing
+but experience can serve a hunter when
+measuring his own intellect against the
+elephant&rsquo;s cunning. The scent or sight
+of a human being at the distance of a
+mile will send a herd of powerful male
+elephants on their travels, the huge creatures
+preferring to travel for many miles
+rather than meet a man. Yet, when assailed,
+there is scarcely any animal which
+is more to be dreaded. It forgets fear,
+and, filled with blind rage, it will chase an
+armed man in spite of his rifle, and will
+continue to charge him until it dies.</p>
+
+<p>It will engage in deadly battle with its
+own species, or with the mail-clad rhinoceros,
+and yet will run away at the barking
+of a little dog. There was a curious
+instance some years ago, when an elephant
+that was travelling in America went
+mad, escaped from its keeper during the
+night, and traversed the country for miles,
+doing great damage. It broke carts to
+pieces, killed the horses, and was trying
+to force its way into a barn where another
+horse had taken refuge, when it was
+checked by a bull-dog, which flew at the
+huge animal, bit its legs, and worried it
+so thoroughly, that the elephant, mad as
+it was, fairly ran away. Indeed, nothing
+seems to cast this gigantic animal into
+such a state of perplexity as the noisy
+attacks of a little, cross-tempered, insolent,
+yapping terrier. The elephant cannot
+understand it, and gets into such a state
+of nervous irritation, that it never thinks
+of running away or annihilating its diminutive
+foe, but remains near the same spot,
+making short and ineffectual charges, until
+the hunter comes up and deliberately
+chooses his own position for attack.</p>
+
+<p>The flesh of the elephant is anything
+but palatable, and when cut into strips
+and dried in the sun, has been aptly compared
+to leather straps. A well-known
+hunter said that the character of elephant&rsquo;s
+flesh might easily be imagined by
+taking the toughest beefsteak ever cooked,
+multiplying the toughness by four, and
+subtracting all the gravy. The natives,
+however, are possessed of marvellously
+strong jaws and sharp teeth, and to them
+meat is meat, whether tough or tender.
+There are, however, several parts of the
+elephant which are always good; and
+these are the heart, the feet, and the trunk.
+The heart and trunk are simply roasted,
+with the addition of some of the fat from
+the interior of the body; but the feet require
+a more elaborate mode of cookery.</p>
+
+<p>While some of the men are cutting off
+the feet, others are employed in digging a
+circular hole in the ground some ten feet
+deep and three wide, the earth being
+heaped round the edge. An enormous
+heap of dry wood and leaves is then piled
+over the hole, set on fire, and allowed to
+burn itself out. As soon as the last sticks
+have fallen into the hole, the men begin
+to rake out the glowing embers with long
+poles. This is a laborious and difficult
+task, the heat being so great, that each
+man can only work for a few consecutive
+seconds, and then gives way to a cooler
+comrade. However, there are plenty of
+laborers, and the hole is soon cleared.
+The elephant&rsquo;s foot is then rolled into
+the hole, and covered over with the earth
+that was heaped round the edge. Another
+pile of wood is then raised, and when it
+has completely burned out, the foot is
+supposed to be properly baked. Thus
+prepared, the foot is thought to be almost
+the greatest luxury which South Africa
+can afford, the whole interior being dissolved
+into a soft, gelatinous substance
+of a most delicate flavor. There is never
+any lack of fuel; for the elephants break
+down so many branches for food, and
+in their passage through the bush, that
+abundance of dry boughs can always be
+picked up within a limited area.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_323" id="Page_323">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>323]</a></span></p>
+
+<h2>THE SONG OF THE BIRD.</h2>
+
+
+<h3>I.</h3>
+
+<p><span class="dropcap">I</span>N those unhappy days when revolution
+prevailed in France, there were a number
+of noble families who were reduced
+to extreme poverty. One of these was
+the family of Duke Erlan, who was a noble
+and highly-respected man, while his
+wife was kind and charitable to such an
+extent that all the poor people in the surrounding
+country loved her with great affection.</p>
+
+<p>They had two children&mdash;Carl and Lillie.
+When a certain revolutionary outbreak
+had occurred, the duke removed
+from the city where he lived to his chateau,
+in a retired part of the country,
+where he was surrounded by rocks, vineyards,
+and fields of grain, far removed
+from the bustle and turmoil of city life.</p>
+
+<p>The good man regarded himself as very
+fortunate in being permitted to live here
+in quiet with his family, and become the
+teacher of his children.</p>
+
+<p>Notwithstanding the great danger prevailing
+in the country, this was indeed a
+happy family.</p>
+
+<p>The duke was a good musician, and he
+made it an object to teach his children to
+play on the piano; and though they were
+quite young, both of them knew a number
+of very beautiful tunes.</p>
+
+<p>On one stormy evening, near the end
+of winter, all four of them sat together
+near their splendid piano. The duke had
+composed a little song for his two children.
+It was such a pleasant, lively melody,
+that they had learned it very easily,
+and each of them could play it. Their
+mother, however, did not know it, and
+the children now thought it a great thing
+for them to have the privilege of teaching
+it to her.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Carl,&rdquo; said the duke, &ldquo;you play, and
+we will sing.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>And they sang this song:&mdash;</p>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<span class="i3">&ldquo;Take courage, bird;<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Our Father says,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">In winter&rsquo;s storms<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">And summer&rsquo;s rays<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">You have no barns,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">You sow no wheat,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But God will give you bread to eat.&rdquo;<br /></span>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<p>While they were singing, they heard
+some one knock at the door. They
+heard the bell ring, and when the door
+was opened, five soldiers, clad in uniform,
+demanded Duke Erlan to deliver himself
+up. They walked straight up to him, and
+told him that he must go immediately to
+prison. His wife cast herself at their
+feet, and begged them to let him live in
+peace.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;We cannot help it,&rdquo; said they. &ldquo;We
+have our orders, and must obey them.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Not five minutes elapsed before that
+good man was taken from the midst of
+his happy family, and hurried to prison.
+The duchess and her son and daughter
+were overwhelmed with sorrow. They
+could not sleep that night, and the next
+morning, as they looked out of the window
+and saw how the storm had prevailed
+in the vineyards and on the fields, they
+felt that the storm in their own hearts had
+been far more destructive.</p>
+
+<p>The unhappy duchess now determined
+to use every means to rescue her beloved
+husband. She went to the judges and
+assured them of her husband&rsquo;s innocence;
+but they did not seem to have any more
+feeling than so many marble statues. She
+received, in reply to her entreaties, this
+answer:&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;In a few days your husband will be
+beheaded.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>She returned to the castle after three
+days, and found that it was occupied by
+soldiers. The furniture had all been
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_324" id="Page_324">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>324]</a></span>
+taken away, and the treasures were missing.
+She was not permitted even to enter the
+castle, and was informed that her children,
+for whom she was weeping in great
+sorrow, were gone&mdash;nobody could tell
+where.</p>
+
+<p>It was late at night, and she did not
+know where she would sleep. Going
+out into the castle-yard, she was met by
+Richard, an old and faithful servant, who
+said,&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Good mistress, you are in danger every
+moment of being arrested. There is
+no safety for you unless you flee as quickly
+as possible. I cannot conceal you, for
+that would be dangerous for all. I cannot
+save your husband, and if you stay
+here it will be certain death. Your children
+are at my house. Come with me.
+My brother, the old fisherman, who keeps
+the ferry at the Rhine, is already informed
+of the matter. I will go with you this
+very night, and he will take you and your
+children safely over the river. Run&mdash;let
+us run for life.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>The duchess came to the house of good
+Richard, where she found her children.
+But Lillie was quite sick, and lay upon
+Richard&rsquo;s cot, suffering from a high fever.
+She did not even know her mother. How
+could that good lady leave her sick child?
+She did not wish to do it, but the peasant
+told her that she could be of no assistance,
+and that he would see that she was
+well provided for.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Run,&rdquo; said he, &ldquo;for your life is in
+danger.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>It was a sad moment when Lillie&rsquo;s
+mother was compelled to leave her child
+lying upon that sick bed; but the good
+woman, before giving her a parting kiss,
+knelt at her side, and said,&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;O Lord, I commit this dear child to
+thee for safe keeping. I believe thou wilt
+one day restore her to me.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>The duchess was silent for a few moments;
+then, calmly arising, she kissed
+her child, took Carl by the hand, and hastened
+through the door towards the distant
+river.</p>
+
+<p>She finally came to the old ferryman&rsquo;s
+house, and he gave them a great deal of
+welcome, having provided some warm
+soup and bread to strengthen them.
+They were taken over the river, and the
+two brothers, Solomon and Richard, returned
+in the boat.</p>
+
+<p>It was a desolate condition in which
+the duchess and her child were placed,
+and we must follow her in her wanderings.
+The farther she went from the river, the
+safer it would be for her and Carl. She
+followed the direction which Richard had
+given her, until she reached Switzerland.
+But her delay there came near costing
+her her life, for she learned that a detective
+officer was in search of them. With
+all the haste possible, she got across the
+Swiss boundary into the Tyrol, which
+was Austrian territory. There she was
+safe. They passed over high mountains,
+and through deep valleys, seeking a place
+where they could settle. At last they
+came to a certain valley, which, in quiet
+beauty, surpassed anything that they had
+seen.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;This reminds me more of home,&rdquo; she
+said, &ldquo;than any country through which
+we have passed. I have got several hundred
+louis which good Richard saved
+when our house was plundered, and we
+can afford to rent a little cottage.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>The old Tyrolese peasant told her that
+there was no house for sale in all the
+valley. &ldquo;But,&rdquo; said he, &ldquo;you can board
+in my cottage if you choose.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>The price was agreed upon, and the
+duchess and her son became inmates of
+the family. The little room which was to
+be their home was very plainly furnished;
+but simple as it was, the first thing that
+she did on entering it was to kneel there
+with her child, and thank God for a shelter.
+She arranged her affairs as well as
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_325" id="Page_325">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>325]</a></span>
+she could for a permanent residence with
+the Tyrolese peasant, and she began to
+look upon it as home.</p>
+
+<p>One day she told the peasant that she
+wished to send her little boy Carl to
+school, if there was a good schoolmaster
+in the neighborhood.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;The pastor in a neighboring village,&rdquo;
+said the peasant, &ldquo;will be here to-day to
+catechise my child. He teaches school,
+and I think you can make an arrangement
+with him.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>That day the gray-haired old pastor
+came, and an arrangement was made
+with him for Carl to go to school to him.
+Books were provided for him, and he
+went to school with the greatest pleasure.
+He was a rapid student, and repeated his
+lessons every evening to his mother.</p>
+
+<p>In the Tyrol a great many canary birds
+are trained, and are sold to dealers all
+through the country. The old Tyrolese
+peasant with whom the duchess and Carl
+were boarding had a young and beautiful
+bird, which sang very sweetly. Carl asked
+his mother to buy this bird, saying,&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Mother, this bird is very much like
+the one that our dear, sweet Lillie used to
+have. Buy it for me, so that it may learn
+how to sing.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>The duchess bought the bird, and soon
+became very much attached to it. Carl
+took the greatest pleasure in its training,
+and in due time, little Tim&mdash;for that was
+his name&mdash;would come to him and peck
+at his fingers, and rub his little head on
+Carl&rsquo;s hand.</p>
+
+<p>Carl was a natural musician, just as his
+father was, and would sometimes play on
+a flute which the old Tyrolese peasant
+had. Little Tim would imitate his tunes,
+and sometimes the concert was well worth
+hearing.</p>
+
+<p>The old pastor provided the duchess
+with news. One day he gave her a French
+newspaper, and in the first column which
+she read there was a long list of the names
+of noblemen who had been beheaded.
+Among them she read the name of her
+husband, Henry Erlan. The newspaper
+fell from her hands, and she swooned
+away. A severe illness came on, and it
+was a long time doubtful whether she
+would recover. The old Tyrolese despaired
+of her life, and said,&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;The coming autumn may find her no
+more with us; but who knows what the
+good Lord will bring out of all this sorrow?&rdquo;</p>
+
+
+<h3>II.</h3>
+
+<p>The old servant Richard, having rescued
+his good mistress from arrest, and
+probably from death, now formed the resolution
+to save his master too. He had
+not much time to plan, for he learned that
+the duke was to be beheaded the following
+week. It so happened that the son
+of his brother Solomon, the ferryman,
+belonged to the National Guard, and was
+stationed at the prison to guard it. If he
+could only secure him to engage in the
+enterprise, he felt that he could succeed.
+It was a difficult thing to get a word to
+say to any member of the National Guard.
+But old Richard had done many kind
+things for his nephew, and he succeeded
+in getting a note to him through the post
+office, appointing a time, when he was off
+duty, to meet him. Richard opened the
+whole enterprise freely to his nephew,
+and told him all the great injustice that
+had been done a noble family, and the
+sufferings through which the different
+members had passed.</p>
+
+<p>The duke was informed that he was to
+be beheaded next day, and his door was
+marked by the prison-keeper as the room
+of a man who was to be executed the following
+morning. The good man knelt
+in prayer after the intelligence had been
+conveyed to him, and said,&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;To whom shall I go for help and
+courage, this last night of my life, but to
+thee, O Lord? Thou knowest best what
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_326" id="Page_326">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>326]</a></span>
+will happen to me. If it be in accordance
+with thy will, permit me to see my wife
+and children again. If thou seest that it
+is not best for thy glory that I should live,
+then I will obey willingly. Thy will, not
+mine, be done.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<div class="figcenter ipadtop" style="width: 488px;">
+<img src="images/hd133.jpg" width="488" height="400"
+alt="Lillie, her father and Richard listen to the bird singing" />
+</div>
+
+<p class="caption">&ldquo;<span class="smcap">Father, father! that is the very tune which we were singing together the night that you
+were arrested.</span>&rdquo; See page <a href="#Page_327">327</a>.]</p>
+
+<p>That was a noble prayer. Scarcely
+had the last word fallen from his lips,
+when he heard somebody gently lifting
+the latch of his door, and inserting the
+key.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Save yourself,&rdquo; whispered the person
+who entered, who was none other than
+old Solomon&rsquo;s son, to whom Richard
+had confided his enterprise. It was two
+o&rsquo;clock in the morning, the very best time
+to accomplish his purpose.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Put on these clothes,&rdquo; said he, as he
+unfolded a soldier&rsquo;s uniform; &ldquo;take this
+hat, and here is a gun. As quickly as
+you possibly can, transform yourself into
+a soldier.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>They escaped in safety from the prison,
+accompanied by the faithful Richard, and
+went as rapidly as they could towards the
+Rhine. They reached old Solomon&rsquo;s ferry
+house. The young man knocked gently
+at the window, and asked his father to
+come out as soon as possible and take
+the duke over the river.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Are you not going to take your little
+girl with you?&rdquo; said the old ferryman.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;What little girl?&rdquo; asked the duke.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Your little daughter, whom my brother
+has brought here this very day; and
+she is as sweet a child as I ever saw in
+my life. She lies asleep now in the corner
+of the room.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>This was news which the nobleman did
+not expect to hear, and he was almost
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_327" id="Page_327">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>327]</a></span>
+overcome with joy. But he had no time
+to spend in greeting, except to give his
+dear Lillie a kiss. Soon they were over
+the Rhine; but before reaching the bank
+on the opposite side, they were fired at
+by soldiers who had come in search of
+them. A bullet passed through the top
+of the duke&rsquo;s high soldier hat, but he
+was not harmed, and escaped in safety.</p>
+
+<p>The great task for him to accomplish
+now was to find his wife and boy, though
+he had but little hope of ever finding
+them. Old Richard had enough money
+to buy the duke a horse; so the father
+mounted the horse, and took his little
+daughter on the saddle with him. They
+travelled over the mountains and through
+the vales, asking, whenever they met any
+person, to tell them if they knew of any
+strangers in that section of the country.
+But nobody gave any information.</p>
+
+<p>Old Richard was yet with them, for he
+had still enough money left to buy a mule,
+and he rode beside his good master and
+Lillie until the 17th of July arrived, and
+that was Lillie&rsquo;s birthday. The duke determined
+that they three should stop and
+celebrate it by taking a little rest and a
+good meal in a cottage by the wayside.
+Having finished their dinner, they went out
+of doors and looked about the beautiful
+yard, which was all blooming with flowers.
+A bird cage was hanging by the side of
+the door, and the bird was singing the
+tune to these words:&mdash;</p>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<span class="i3">&ldquo;Take courage, bird;<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Our Father says,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">In winter&rsquo;s storms<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">And summer&rsquo;s rays<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">You have no barns,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">You sow no wheat,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But God will give you bread to eat.&rdquo;<br /></span>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<p>Lillie was astounded at again hearing
+that sweet melody, and she exclaimed,&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Father, father! that is the very tune
+which we were singing together the night
+that you were arrested.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>The little bird went over it two or three
+times, and the father said,&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;You are right, my dear child. That
+is the melody&mdash;not a note is wanting.
+This is truly wonderful. I do believe
+that this bird has been taught to sing
+that song by Carl and your good mother.
+O, Richard, can you not find out how this
+bird came here?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Richard said in reply,&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I will do all I can, but I am afraid
+that it will be very difficult.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>He made inquiries of the man who
+owned the bird, and who had furnished
+them with the dinner, as to where the
+bird came from. The Tyrolese replied,&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I don&rsquo;t know where it came from, except
+that a young man who passed along
+the road, and who lives about three miles
+from here, sold it to me for a trifling sum
+one day. I was pleased with its appearance,
+because it was a beautiful bird, and
+the price was very low.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Then Richard said,&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Can you not see that young man, and
+find out where he got it from?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I will do so if you wish,&rdquo; he answered.</p>
+
+<p>Richard then told him to report as soon
+as possible what he had learned.</p>
+
+<p>That afternoon, about five o&rsquo;clock, the
+young man was brought to Richard and
+the duke, and inquiries were made as to
+where he got the bird. He said that he
+did not know where it came from exactly,
+except that it was found one day after it
+had escaped from somebody&rsquo;s cage. He
+did not know who owned it, or else he
+would have taken it to its owner.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Where was it you found it?&rdquo; said the
+duke.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;About ten miles from here, when I
+was going to see my mother, who lives a
+great many miles away.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Do you know whether any strangers
+are in that neighborhood?&rdquo; asked the
+duke.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I heard my mother say that there
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_328" id="Page_328">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>328]</a></span>
+were a lady and a little boy living some
+three miles the other side of her house,
+and that she was a very good woman.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Did you ever see the boy yourself?&rdquo;
+inquired the duke.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Yes, I saw the boy going to school.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>The duke, on making further inquiries
+as to his appearance, came to the conclusion
+that the boy whom he had seen
+was probably none other than Carl. He
+accordingly made his arrangements to go
+to the place of which the young man had
+spoken.</p>
+
+<p>That night he reached the house where
+this good lady and her son were boarding.
+True enough, the duke and little Lillie
+were in the presence of the duchess and
+Carl. It was a happy meeting, far beyond
+my power to describe. Their gratitude to
+their heavenly Father for preserving them
+to each other knew no bounds. It was
+an hour of such happiness as is seldom
+permitted any one to enjoy.</p>
+
+<p>They sat up late that night and recounted
+their experiences to each other,
+and then the duke revealed the secret of
+his coming to that house; that it was a
+canary bird which had been the instrument
+of his finding her and Carl. They
+spent a few days in great happiness there,
+and made a bargain with the man who
+owned the canary bird which had escaped
+from Carl&rsquo;s cage to get it back
+again.</p>
+
+<p>Two years passed on, and peace and
+quiet were again restored to France.
+The duke and his family were permitted
+to return to his castle, and the government
+made him ample reparation for all
+the losses that he had incurred. They
+took with them their little canary bird,
+which had lost none of its sweet notes
+by the lapse of time.</p>
+
+<p>One day a magnificent new piano arrived
+from Paris, and after tea the duke
+said,&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Now we will try the piano in our
+own quiet home. What shall we sing?&rdquo;
+asked he.</p>
+
+<p>The duchess, and Carl, and Lillie all
+answered with one voice,&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;We must sing our bird song.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<span class="i3">&ldquo;Take courage, bird;<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Our Father says,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">In winter&rsquo;s storms<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">And summer&rsquo;s rays<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">You have no barns,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">You sow no wheat,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But God will give you bread to eat.&rdquo;<br /></span>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+
+<h2><a name="Page_328lower" id="Page_328lower"></a>THE SHEEP AND THE GOAT.</h2>
+
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p class="cap">NOT all the streets that London builds<br />
+<span class="i3">Can hide the sky and sun,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Shut out the winds from o&rsquo;er the fields,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Or quench the scent the hay swath yields<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">All night, when work is done.<br /></span></p>
+</div>
+
+<div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">And here and there an open spot<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Lies bare to light and dark,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Where grass receives the wanderer hot,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Where trees are growing, houses not;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">One is the Regent&rsquo;s Park.<br /></span>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_329" id="Page_329">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>329]</a></span></p>
+
+<div class="figcenter ipadtop" style="width: 600px;">
+<img src="images/hd134.jpg" width="600" height="454"
+alt="A goat eating grass, a kid lying alongside" />
+</div>
+
+<p class="caption">THE GOATS.</p>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_330" id="Page_330">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>330]</a></span>
+<span class="i0">Soft creatures, with ungentle guides,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">God&rsquo;s sheep from hill and plain,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Are gathered here in living tides,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Lie wearily on woolly sides,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Or crop the grass amain.<br /></span>
+</div>
+
+<div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">And from the lane, and court, and den,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">In ragged skirts and coats,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Come hither tiny sons of men,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Wild things, untaught of book or pen,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">The little human goats.<br /></span>
+</div>
+
+<div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">One hot and cloudless summer day,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">An overdriven sheep<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Had come a long and dusty way;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Throbbing with thirst the creature lay,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">A panting, woollen heap.<br /></span>
+</div>
+
+<div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">But help is nearer than we know<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">For ills of every name;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Ragged enough to scare the crow,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But with a heart to pity woe,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">A quick-eyed urchin came.<br /></span>
+</div>
+
+<div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Little he knew of field or fold,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Yet knew enough; his cap<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Was just the cap for water cold&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">He knew what it could do of old;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Its rents were few, good hap!<br /></span>
+</div>
+
+<div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Shaping the brim and crown he went,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Till crown from brim was deep.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The water ran from brim and rent;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Before he came the half was spent&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">The half, it saved the sheep.<br /></span>
+</div>
+
+<div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">O, little goat, born, bred in ill,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Unwashed, ill-fed, unshorn!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Thou meet&rsquo;st the sheep from breezy hill,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Apostle of thy Saviour&rsquo;s will,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">In London wastes forlorn.<br /></span>
+</div>
+
+<div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Let others say the thing they please,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">My faith, though very dim,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Thinks He will say who always sees,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">In doing it to one of these<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Thou didst it unto him.<br /></span>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_331" id="Page_331">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>331]</a></span></p>
+
+<h2>FROM BAD TO WORSE.</h2>
+
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p class="cap">COME, children, leave your playing,<br />
+<span class="i3">And gather round my knee,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And I&rsquo;ll tell you a little story:<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Away across the sea,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">In a meadow where the mosses<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And the grass were frozen brown,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Three little maids sat milking<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">One day as the sun went down&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Not cows, but goats of the mountain;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And before their pails were full,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The winds, they pierced like needles<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Through their gowns of heavy wool.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And as one hand, then the other,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">They tried to warm in their laps,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The bitter weather froze their breath<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Like fur about their caps.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And so, as they sat at their milking,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">They grew as still as mice,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Save when the stiff shoes on their feet<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Rattled like shoes of ice.<br /></span></p>
+</div>
+
+<div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">At last out spoke the youngest<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">As she blew on her finger-nails:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">I have planned a plan, sweet sisters:<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Let us take our milking-pails,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And go to the side of the mountain<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">As fast as we can go,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And heap them up to the very top<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">From the whitest drifts of snow;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And let us build in the meadow<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Where we will milk our goats at night<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">A house to keep us from the cold,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">With walls all silver white.<br /></span>
+</div>
+
+<div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">We will set the door away from the wind.<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">The floor we will heap with moss,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And gather little strips of ice<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And shingle the roof across.<br /></span>
+</div>
+
+<div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Then all the foolish maidens,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">They emptied their pails on the ground,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And bounded up the mountain-side<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">As fast as they could bound,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And came again to the meadow<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">With pails heaped high with snow,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And so, through half the night, the moon<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Beheld them come and go.<br /></span>
+</div>
+
+<div class="stanza">
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_332" id="Page_332">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>332]</a></span>
+<span class="i0">But when with the daybreak roses<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">The silver walls shone red,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The three little foolish maidens<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Were lying cold and dead.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The needles of the frost had sewed<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Into shrouds their woollen coats,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And with cheeks as white as the ice they lay<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Among their mountain goats.<br /></span>
+</div>
+
+<p class="poet smcap">Alice Cary.</p>
+</div>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+
+<div class="figcenter ipadtop" style="width: 504px;">
+<a name="Page_332lower" id="Page_332lower"></a>
+<img src="images/hd135.jpg" width="504" height="400"
+alt="Gracie shows her father the money she has saved" />
+</div>
+
+<p class="caption smcap">Gracie and her Father.</p>
+
+<h2>MY STORY.</h2>
+
+
+<p><span class="dropcap">M</span>ANY years ago, when the sky was
+as clear, the flowers as fragrant,
+and the birds as musical as now, I stood
+by a little mahogany table, with pencil and
+paper in hand, vainly trying to add a short
+column of figures. My small tin box, with
+the word <i>Bank</i> in large letters upon it,
+had just been opened, and the carefully
+hoarded treasure of six months was
+spread out before me. Scrip had not
+come into use then; and there were one
+tiny gold piece, two silver dollars, and
+many quarters, dimes, half-dimes, and
+pennies. For a full half hour I had been
+counting my fingers and trying to reckon
+up how much it all amounted to; but the
+problem was too hard for me. At last I
+took pencil and paper, and sought to work
+it out by figures.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;What are you doing, Gracie?&rdquo; pleasantly
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_333" id="Page_333">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>333]</a></span>
+inquired my father, entering the
+room with an open letter in his hand.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;O, papa! is that you?&rdquo; I cried, eagerly
+turning towards him. &ldquo;Just look&mdash;see
+how much money I&rsquo;ve got! John has just
+opened my bank. It is six months to-day
+since I began to save, and I&rsquo;ve more than
+I expected.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Yes, you are quite rich.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;So much that I can&rsquo;t even count it.
+I&rsquo;ve done harder sums in addition at
+school; but somehow, now, every time I
+add, I get a different answer. I can&rsquo;t
+make it come out twice alike.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Where did you get that gold piece?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Why, don&rsquo;t you know? <em>You</em> gave it to
+me for letting Dr. Strong pull out my big
+back tooth.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Father laughed.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Did I?&rdquo; said he; &ldquo;I had forgotten
+it. But where did you get those two silver
+dollars?&rdquo; he inquired.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;O, grandmother gave me this one.
+It&rsquo;s <em>chicken</em> money. She gave it to me for
+feeding the chickens every morning all
+the while I staid there; and the other is
+<em>hat</em> money. Aunt Ellen told me if I&rsquo;d
+wear my hat always when I went out in
+the sun, and so keep from getting sun-burned,
+that she would give me another
+dollar; and she did.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Where did the remainder come from?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Mostly from you, papa. You are always
+giving me money. These two
+bright, new quarters you gave me when
+you looked over my writing-book, and saw
+it hadn&rsquo;t a blot. How much is there in
+all?&rdquo; I earnestly asked.</p>
+
+<p>Father glanced at the little pile, and
+smilingly said,&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Seven dollars and ten cents. That&rsquo;s
+a good deal of money for a little girl only
+nine years old to spend.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;And may I spend it just as I please?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Certainly, my dear; just as you please.
+It&rsquo;s a great thing for little people to learn
+to spend money wisely.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Saying this, he seated himself by the
+window, and drawing me towards him,
+placed me upon one knee.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Gracie, dear, I have just received a
+letter from grandmother. She proposes
+that I come to Vermont and bring you;
+that I remain as long as business will admit,
+and leave you to pass the summer
+just as you did last year. How would
+that suit?&rdquo; fixing his kind dark eyes full
+upon my upturned face to read my changing
+thoughts.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;O, I should like it very much!&rdquo; I
+quickly exclaimed, clapping my hands with
+delight. Then I reflected a moment, and a
+shadow fell over my prospective happiness.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;On the whole, papa,&rdquo; I said, earnestly,
+&ldquo;I think I had better go, and not stay
+any longer than you can stay. I am all
+the little girl <em>you</em> have, and you are all
+the parent <em>I</em> have, and we should be very
+lonely without each other.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>I felt his warm, loving kiss upon my
+cheek as he folded me to his heart, and a
+tear fell on my forehead. For two years I
+had been motherless; but a double portion
+of pity and tenderness had been lavished
+upon me by my indulgent father. He was
+a New York merchant of ample means.
+Our home was elegant and tasteful.</p>
+
+<p>The home of my father&rsquo;s only surviving
+parent, my doting grandmother, whom we
+were designing to visit, was a plain, unpretending
+farm-house, snuggly nestled
+up among the hills of Vermont. There
+were tall poplar trees and a flower-garden
+in front, a little orchard and a whole
+row of nice looking out-buildings in the
+rear. There was no place on earth so full
+of joy for me. The swallows&rsquo; nests on the
+barn; the turkeys, geese, and chickens;
+the colt, lambs, and little pigs; in short,
+everything had an ever-increasing attraction,
+far exceeding any pleasures to be
+found within the limits of the crowded city.</p>
+
+<p>The prospect of another visit to Woodville
+filled my heart with intense delight.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_334" id="Page_334">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>334]</a></span>
+A week passed, and on one of the
+sunniest and freshest of June mornings
+we started for Vermont. I was exceedingly
+fond of travelling in the cars, and it
+seemed as if a thousand sunbeams had
+suddenly fallen upon my young life. The
+train left New York, and we found ourselves
+rapidly whirling past hills, forests,
+towns, and villages. Sometimes we were
+flying through dark, deep cuts, then crossing
+streams and rich green fields and
+meadows.</p>
+
+<p>We expected to reach grandmother&rsquo;s
+that evening. I had written to inform
+her of our coming. One hour after another
+passed. The day was declining, and
+the sun was slowly sinking in the west.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;How much longer have we to go?&rdquo;
+was the question I had asked for the fiftieth
+time at least.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;About another hour&rsquo;s ride, Gracie,&rdquo;
+smilingly answered my father. &ldquo;I think
+we shall reach Woodville about eight.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>The cars continued to hurry on till we
+were within a few rods of the station.</p>
+
+<p>The bell was ringing its usual warning,
+and the bell from a train from behind was
+beginning to be heard. We had commenced
+to switch off, to allow the express
+train to pass. But by some carelessness
+or miscalculation our train was a minute
+too late. Father and I were comfortably
+occupying one of the front seats of the
+rear car; and I was in a state of impatient
+excitement to reach our destination.
+But there came, in an instant, a stunning,
+frightful crash; and I was thrown violently
+forward. What followed for the next
+ten minutes I do not know.</p>
+
+<p>I think I must have been in a semi-unconscious
+state, for I have a dim recollection
+of strange sounds, confusion, anxiety,
+and terror. Strong hands seemed to pull
+me out from under a heavy weight, and
+gently lay me down. I felt dizzy and
+faint. I opened my eyes, and light came
+gradually to my darkened vision. A
+gentleman stood over me with his fingers
+upon my wrist. A kind, sunny-faced old
+lady was wetting my head.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Are you much hurt?&rdquo; she tenderly
+inquired, gazing upon me in undisguised
+anxiety.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;What&rsquo;s the matter? Where am I?&rdquo;
+I cried, springing up and gazing wildly
+around.</p>
+
+<p>In a moment my eye caught sight of
+the broken rear car. There were several
+wounded and bleeding people about me.
+I saw the front cars emptied of passengers,
+who were actively employed in caring
+for the injured. I comprehended in an
+instant that there had been an accident.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;My father! my father!&rdquo; I cried.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;You shall see him soon,&rdquo; soothingly
+answered the gentleman by my side.
+&ldquo;Drink this;&rdquo; and he held to my mouth
+a glass of something pleasant and pungent.
+I drank its entire contents. I think
+it helped to quite restore me. I ran wildly
+about in search of my missing parent.
+There was a little group of men and women
+a short distance off. I hurried towards
+it, and recognized Peter, my grandmother&rsquo;s
+man, who had come to meet us
+at the station.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Where is my father?&rdquo; I said in a
+voice hardly audible from terror, seizing
+Peter&rsquo;s arm.</p>
+
+<p>Before he could reply, I saw father,
+white and motionless, upon the ground.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;He is dead!&rdquo; I shrieked, springing
+towards him, and convulsively throwing
+my arms about him.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;He is stunned, <em>not</em> dead, my child,&rdquo;
+said the physician, kindly drawing me
+away, to minister to him. &ldquo;We hope he
+will soon be better.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>In spite of his soothing words and
+tones, I read the truth in his face; that
+he feared life was almost extinct.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;O, what can I do? Save him! save
+him! You must <em>not</em> let him die! you must
+<em>not</em>!&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_335" id="Page_335">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>335]</a></span>
+&ldquo;My poor child, I will do all I can,&rdquo;
+replied the physician, touched by my distress.</p>
+
+<p>But no efforts to restore my father to
+consciousness availed anything. There
+was a deep, ugly cut on one side of his
+head. No other external injury could be
+found; yet he had not spoken or moved
+since he was taken out from the broken
+car.</p>
+
+<p>The accident had occurred but a few
+rods from the station; and as grandmother&rsquo;s
+house was scarcely a mile distant,
+Peter strongly urged that he should
+be taken there at once. Accordingly a
+wagon was procured. The seats were
+taken out, and a mattress placed upon the
+bottom, and father was carefully laid upon
+it; and Peter drove rapidly home, while I
+followed with the doctor in his buggy.
+A man had been sent in advance of us to
+inform grandmother of our coming. She
+met us at the door with a pallid face, but
+was so outwardly calm, that I took courage
+from beholding her.</p>
+
+<p>Father was laid upon a nice, white bed,
+in a little room on the ground floor; and
+again every means for restoring him was
+resorted to. Still he remained unconscious.</p>
+
+<p>The hours went on. The old family
+clock had just struck two, and we were
+watching and working in an agony of
+suspense.</p>
+
+<p>I had not left my father&rsquo;s bedside, till
+the low, indistinct conversation between
+the doctor and grandmother, in the next
+room, fell upon my ear.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;There is life yet,&rdquo; said he. &ldquo;I thought
+once he had ceased to breathe.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;And you are quite sure he does?&rdquo;
+she inquired.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Yes. I held a small mirror over his
+face; and the mist that gathered upon it
+proves there is still faint breathing.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>I shuddered and ran out to them.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;You think he will die!&rdquo; I cried,
+seizing grandmother&rsquo;s hand with desperate
+energy.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I cannot tell, dear Gracie. His life,
+like yours and mine, is in the hands of
+God. We cannot foresee his purposes.
+We can only submit to his will.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Saying this, she returned with the doctor
+to the sick room, and I was left alone.</p>
+
+<p>The prospect of being deprived of my
+only surviving parent almost paralyzed
+me. I looked out of the open window.
+It was a calm, clear summer night. The
+moon shone out in all its glory and brilliancy,
+and the stars twinkled as cheerily
+as though there was no sorrow, suffering,
+or death in the world.</p>
+
+<p>I sprang towards the door and closed
+it, and then threw myself upon my knees,
+and poured out my great anguish into the
+pitying ear of the heavenly Father.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;O, good, kind Father in heaven, do
+hear and quickly answer me. Do save
+my own dear papa from death. Mother,
+Bessie, and little Fred have all gone to
+live with thee; and he is all I have left.
+Do, I entreat thee, help him to get well;
+I will be more kind, and generous, and
+obedient than I have ever been before,
+and will try to please thee as long as I
+live.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>I arose comforted and strengthened.
+Returning to my father&rsquo;s room, I saw the
+doctor with his fingers upon his wrist
+again.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;A faint pulse,&rdquo; he said, turning towards
+grandmother.</p>
+
+<p>Another hour passed. The breath was
+perceptible now, and the doctor looked
+more hopefully.</p>
+
+<p>Morning came, and the glad sunlight
+streamed in through the windows. Father
+remained in a deep stupor, but manifested
+more signs of life than at any time since
+the accident. He had moved slightly
+several times, and as the hours went on
+his breathing became more natural and
+regular.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_336" id="Page_336">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>336]</a></span>
+Suddenly he opened his eyes and gazed
+feebly around.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Father, dear father, are you better?&rdquo;
+I cried in a choking voice.</p>
+
+<p>He smiled faintly, then closed his eyes
+again, and sank into a sweet, refreshing
+slumber.</p>
+
+<p>Another day came, bringing joy immeasurable
+to all of us. Father was conscious
+and rallying fast, and before night
+the doctor assured us all danger was past.
+The weeks went on.</p>
+
+<p>June went out and July came in. We
+had been nearly a month in Woodville;
+and how different my visit had resulted
+from the season of perfect happiness I
+had so ardently anticipated!</p>
+
+<p>Father was gradually regaining his former
+health; and although the wound on
+his head was but partially healed, he was
+pronounced doing admirably by the attentive
+physician.</p>
+
+<p>He was now able to go out, and we
+took many long rides together, keenly enjoying
+the beautiful scenery and the pure
+air. As strength increased, the necessity
+of returning to his business pressed upon
+my father, and the first week in September
+was appointed for our departure.</p>
+
+<p>On the last Sunday of our sojourn in
+Woodville, grandmother and I went in
+the morning to church. There had just
+been a fearfully destructive fire in one of
+the neighboring towns, and a large number
+of people were homeless. The minister
+announced that at the close of the
+afternoon service, a collection would be
+taken up for the sufferers, and he strongly
+urged a generous contribution from his
+parishioners.</p>
+
+<p>I had hitherto paid little heed, when in
+church, to what the minister said; but
+since the dreadful accident and father&rsquo;s
+almost miraculous recovery, I had been far
+more thoughtful and attentive than formerly.
+My heart went out in deep sympathy
+and pity for the poor men, women,
+and children who were made houseless in
+a single night, and I ardently longed to
+do the little in my power to relieve them.</p>
+
+<p>So, during the intermission between
+the services, I took out the money I had
+brought with me, and which father had
+told me I was free to spend as I pleased.
+I tied it up in my handkerchief. There
+was too much for my pocket-book to conveniently
+hold, for it was all of the carefully
+hoarded treasure of my bank. It
+was my design to put it into the contribution-box.</p>
+
+<p>Grandmother did not go to church in
+the afternoon; but father decided to go,
+and I accompanied him. After the services
+were over, two men arose and began
+to pass round the boxes to collect money
+for the people whose homes had been
+burned. As I beheld one of them coming
+slowly up the aisle, stopping at every
+pew, I was in a flutter of excitement. It
+was a novel thing for me to put money
+into the contribution-box, and my heart
+beat violently.</p>
+
+<p>I drew out my handkerchief from my
+pocket, and hurriedly began to untie the
+knot. But my usually nimble fingers
+were provokingly slow to act now; and I
+pulled and pulled away, but to no purpose.
+The knot obstinately refused to yield.
+The man with the box had nearly reached
+our pew, and I began to fear I should lose
+the chance to give.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Don&rsquo;t let him slip by me,&rdquo; I whispered
+so loudly to father as to cause at least a
+dozen persons in the adjacent seats to
+stare wonderingly at me. &ldquo;I&rsquo;ve something
+to put in.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Another prodigious effort, and the knot
+yielded.</p>
+
+<p>The man passed the box first to father,
+and he put in a bill. He glanced at me, evidently
+thinking a child would hardly have
+money to give, and was about to go on;
+but I looked beseechingly towards him,
+and he stopped and extended the box to
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_337" id="Page_337">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>337]</a></span>
+me. In an instant the entire contents of
+my handkerchief were emptied into it&mdash;as
+much money as my two chubby hands
+could hold.</p>
+
+<p>Father looked down upon me, and a
+half-amused smile flitted over his face, as
+he beheld my unexpected act.</p>
+
+<p>After we had returned home, father sat
+down by the window in an easy chair, and
+calling me to him, placed me upon his knee.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Gracie, dear,&rdquo; said he, smilingly, &ldquo;tell
+me how it happened you put so much
+money into the contribution-box. It must
+have taken nearly all you had.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;It <em>was</em> all I had, papa. It was the
+money I saved in my bank, and you told
+me I could spend it just as I pleased.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;O, yes, dear; I am glad to have you;
+only it was a good deal for a little girl.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I gave it because I wanted to please
+God,&rdquo; I replied with earnest solemnity.
+&ldquo;That dreadful night, when we all thought
+you would die, dear papa, I promised
+God I would be a better girl than I have
+ever been before. I would be more kind,
+generous, and obedient, and would try
+and please him all my life, if he would
+only let <em>you</em> get well; and I gave my
+money to-day because I am so glad and
+grateful to him.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Precious child,&rdquo; said he tenderly and
+with much emotion, drawing me close to
+him, &ldquo;and I am glad, and grateful too, for
+the rich gift of my dear little daughter.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p class="sig smcap">Sarah P. Brigham.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+
+<h2><a name="Page_337lower" id="Page_337lower"></a>THE WAY TO WALK.</h2>
+
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p class="cap">AS I tramped over a stony path,<br />
+<span class="i3">One cloudy morning early,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">I learned the only way to step,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">To keep from being surly.<br /></span></p>
+</div>
+
+<div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Don&rsquo;t hurry, and stride, and come down hard<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Upon the rolling pebbles,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But lightly step; and that&rsquo;s the way<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">To charm all kinds of rebels.<br /></span>
+</div>
+
+<div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Don&rsquo;t hurry, and stride, and come down hard,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Even on troublesome people;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But carry your feet, and tread on air,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">As though you lived on a steeple.<br /></span>
+</div>
+
+<div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">There are rolling stones in every path,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And rocks with jagged edges,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Which, if we gently touch, may turn<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">To flowers and bending sedges.<br /></span>
+</div>
+
+<p class="poet">M. R. W.</p>
+</div>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_338" id="Page_338">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>338]</a></span></p>
+
+<div class="figcenter ipadtop" style="width: 600px;">
+<img src="images/hd136.jpg" width="600" height="459"
+alt="Two dromedary, or Arabian, camels, one standing, the other lying down" />
+</div>
+
+<p class="caption">THE CAMEL.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_339" id="Page_339">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>339]</a></span></p>
+
+<div class="figcenter ipadboth" style="width: 500px;">
+<img src="images/hd137.jpg" width="500" height="128"
+alt="Foliage decoration" />
+</div>
+
+<h2>CAMELS.</h2>
+
+
+<p><span class="dropcap">T</span>HE Bactrian camel may be at once
+known by the two humps upon its
+back, which give the animal a most singular
+appearance.</p>
+
+<p>This species is a native of Central Asia,
+China, and Thibet, and is generally as
+useful in those countries as is the dromedary
+in Arabia, being employed for the
+saddle, for draught, and burden. It is,
+however, chiefly employed for the second
+of those purposes, and is of the greatest
+service to its owners.</p>
+
+<p>The vehicle to which this camel is generally
+harnessed is a rude cart of wood,
+ingeniously put together, without a particle
+of iron, and, after the fashion of such
+structures, shrieking, creaking, and groaning
+as the wheels turn on their roughly-made
+and ungreased axle. The drivers,
+however, care nothing for the hideous
+and incessant noise, and probably are so
+accustomed to it, that they would not feel
+at home with a cart whose wheels moved
+silently. The mode of harnessing is precisely
+that which so simple a vehicle requires.
+From the front of the cart projects
+a pole, and to this pole are hitched a pair
+of camels by a yoke that passes over their
+shoulders. In fact, the entire harness is
+nothing more than a wooden yoke and a
+leathern strap.</p>
+
+<p>In spite, however, of the rude machine
+to which they are attached, and the great
+loss of power by the friction of the
+badly-fitted wheels, the animals can draw very
+heavy weights for considerable distances.
+A burden of three thousand pounds&rsquo;
+weight is an ordinary load for a pair of
+camels, and a peculiarly strong yoke of
+these animals will draw nearly four thousand
+pounds&rsquo; weight. This camel is commonly
+yoked in pairs.</p>
+
+<p>For the plough the camel is never employed,
+not because it is not sufficiently
+strong for the task, but because it does
+not pull with the steadiness needed to
+drag the ploughshare regularly through
+the ground.</p>
+
+<p>Sometimes, however, the Bactrian camel
+is employed as a beast of burden, the bales
+being slung at each side, and the water-skins
+suspended below the belly. When
+the animal is employed for this purpose,
+a kind of pack-saddle is used, somewhat
+similar in shape to that which has already
+been described in the history of the one-humped
+camel, but necessarily modified
+in its structure. The owner of the camel
+takes great care not to overload his animal,
+as he is afraid of injuring the humps,
+and thereby detracting from the value of
+the camel.</p>
+
+<div class="figcenter ipadtop" style="width: 426px;">
+<img src="images/hd138.jpg" width="426" height="600"
+alt="The camel is laden with items, and two small children are in hanging bags on the side" />
+</div>
+
+<p class="caption">CAMEL OF A TARTAR EMIGRANT.</p>
+
+<p>In Persia the camel is employed for a
+very singular purpose. There was, and
+may be now, a corps of the army which
+is called the camel artillery. It consisted
+of a number of camels, each
+fitted with a peculiar saddle, which not
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_340" id="Page_340"><!-- Illustration - CAMEL OF A TARTAR EMIGRANT --></a></span>
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_341" id="Page_341">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>341]</a></span>
+only accommodated the rider, but carried
+a swivel-gun of about one pound calibre.
+These weapons had a greater range than
+the ordinary Persian matchlocks, and,
+owing to the rapidity with which they
+could be transferred from spot to spot,
+formed a valuable branch of the artillery.</p>
+
+<p>When the enemy saw that a detachment
+of the camel artillery was about to attack
+them, their usual device was to reach such
+a position as to force the camels to traverse
+wet and muddy ground, in which they
+were sure to slip about, to lose all command
+over their limbs, and sometimes to
+lame themselves completely by the hind
+legs slipping apart.</p>
+
+<p>Camels were especially serviceable for
+this purpose, because they are wonderfully
+sure-footed when the ground is dry, almost
+rivalling the mule in the certainty
+of the tread. The Arabian camel is notable
+for his sure tread, but the Bactrian
+species is still more remarkable in this
+respect. Owing, in all probability, to the
+elongated toe, which projects beyond the
+foot, and forms a kind of claw, the Bactrian
+camel can climb mountain passes with
+perfect security, and in consequence of
+this ability is sometimes called the mountain
+camel.</p>
+
+<p>It is as serviceable in winter as in summer.
+The soft, cushion-like feet, which
+slide about so helplessly in mud, take a
+firm hold of ice, and enable their owner
+to traverse a frozen surface with easy security.
+In snow, too, the Bactrian camel
+is equally at home; and the Calmucks
+would rather ride a camel than a horse in
+the winter, because the longer legs of the
+former animal enable it to wade through
+the deep snow, in which a horse could
+only plunge about without finding a foothold.
+No greater proof of the extreme
+utility of this animal can be adduced than
+the fact that a body of two thousand
+camels were employed in conducting a
+military train over the &ldquo;snow-clad
+summits of the Indian Caucasus&rdquo; in winter
+time, and that throughout the space of
+seven months only one camel died, having
+been accidentally killed.</p>
+
+<p>Although the camel has so strong an
+objection to mud, it has none to water,
+and will wade across a river without hesitation.
+It can even swim well when the
+water is too deep to be forded; but it does
+not appear to have much power of directing
+its course, or of propelling itself through
+the water with much force. Indeed, it
+may rather be said to float than to swim.</p>
+
+<p>In point of speed it cannot approach
+the Arabian dromedary, although it is
+little inferior to the ordinary camel of
+burden. About two and a half miles per
+hour is the average pace at which a pair
+of Bactrian camels will draw a load, varying
+in weight from three to four thousand
+pounds; and if they travel over a well-made
+road, they can do their thirty miles
+a day for many successive days. In countries,
+therefore, which are adapted to its
+habits, the camel is far superior to any
+other beast of burden, whether for draught
+or carriage.</p>
+
+<p>One great advantage of the camel is,
+that its feet are so tough, that they can
+pass over rough and stony places without
+suffering, and that therefore the animal
+does not require the aid of shoes. In an
+ordinary march, the constant attention to
+the shoeing of horses and cattle entails
+great labor, much watchfulness, and often
+causes considerable delay, so that the
+peculiar formation of the camel&rsquo;s foot,
+which neither requires nor admits of an
+iron shoe, is of exceeding value in a
+forced march. In some places a leathern
+shoe is fixed to the camel&rsquo;s foot, but is
+really of little use.</p>
+
+<div class="figcenter ipadtop" style="width: 600px;">
+<img src="images/hd139.jpg" width="600" height="372"
+alt="Two dromedary, or Arabian, camels, one standing, the other lying down" />
+</div>
+
+<p class="caption">THE CAMEL.</p>
+
+<p>The very worst time for the Bactrian
+camel is the beginning and end of winter,
+when frost and thaw occur alternately.
+At such times of the year the snow falls
+thickly, is partially melted in the daytime,
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_342" id="Page_342"><!-- Illustration - THE CAMEL --></a></span>
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_343" id="Page_343">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>343]</a></span>
+and at night freezes on the surface into a
+thin cake of ice. Through this crust the
+feet of the camel break, and the animal
+cuts its legs cruelly with the sharp edges
+of the broken ice.</p>
+
+<p>For the cold weather itself this species
+of camel cares little, passing its whole
+time in the open air, and feeding on the
+grass when it is caked with the ice formed
+from the dew. Indeed, it bears a severe
+winter better than either horse, ox, or
+sheep, and has been observed to feed
+with apparent comfort when the thermometer
+had sunk many degrees below
+zero. In some places&mdash;such as the
+country about Lake Baikal&mdash;the camel
+is partially sheltered from the cold by
+a thick woollen cloth, which is sewn
+over its body; but even in such cases
+its owners do not trouble themselves to
+furnish it with food, leaving it to forage
+for itself among shrubs and trees of higher
+ground, or among the reeds and rushes
+that grow on marshy land and the banks
+of rivers.</p>
+
+<p>Almost the only disease among the
+Bactrian camels is an affection of the
+tongue, which is covered with blisters, so
+that the poor animal cannot eat, and dies
+from starvation.</p>
+
+<p>The fleece of the Bactrian camel ought
+to weigh about ten pounds, and is used
+for making a coarse and strong cloth. In
+the summer time the hair becomes loose,
+and is easily plucked off by hand, just as
+sheep used to be &ldquo;rowed&rdquo; before shears
+were employed in removing the wool.
+The camel in the Zo&ouml;logical Gardens
+may be seen in the summer time in a
+very ragged state, its fleece hanging in
+bunches in some parts of the body, while
+others are quite bare. The price of the
+wool is about six cents a pound.</p>
+
+<p>The skin is used for making straps,
+ropes, and thongs, and is seldom tanned.
+It is thought to be inferior to that of the
+ox, and is in consequence sold at a comparatively
+cheap rate, an entire hide only
+fetching about two dollars. The milk is
+used for food, but is produced in very
+small quantities, the average yield being
+only half a gallon. The flesh is eaten,
+and when the animal is fat is tolerably
+tender, and is thought to resemble beef.
+If, however, it be in poor condition, the
+meat is so tough and ill-flavored, that none
+but hungry men, armed with good teeth,
+can eat it. The price of a good Bactrian
+camel is about fifty dollars.</p>
+
+<p>The weight of a full-grown animal is
+about one third more than that of the
+average ox&mdash;that is to say, about twelve
+hundred pounds. The average height is
+seven or eight feet, and the animal generally
+lives about thirty-five or forty years.</p>
+
+<p>Dissimilar in external appearance as are
+the Bactrian and Arabian camels, their
+skeletons are so alike, that none but a
+skilful anatomist can decide upon the
+species to which a skeleton has belonged.
+The legs of the Bactrian species are rather
+shorter in proportion than those of the
+Arabian animal, and in them lies the chief
+distinction of the two species. Indeed,
+many naturalists deny that there is any
+real difference of species, and assert that
+the two animals are simply two varieties
+of the same species.</p>
+
+<p>The specimen in the Zo&ouml;logical Gardens
+is called &ldquo;Jenny&rdquo; by the keeper, and has
+rather a curious history, being associated
+with one of the great events of the present
+century. During the late Russian
+war her mother was taken from the enemy
+in the Crimea, and was unfortunately
+killed. The deserted little one ran about
+among the soldiers, and was adopted by
+the corps of Royal Engineers, who towards
+the end of 1856 presented her to
+the Zo&ouml;logical Society. Both the camels
+are fed upon the same diet, and eat about
+the same quantity.</p>
+
+<p class="sig smcap">J. G. Wood.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_344" id="Page_344">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>344]</a></span></p>
+
+<div class="figcenter ipadboth" style="width: 342px;">
+<img src="images/hd140.jpg" width="342" height="550"
+alt="Two girls looking thoughtful; one of them is sitting on a clothes trunk" />
+</div>
+
+<h2>WHAT SO SWEET?</h2>
+
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p class="cap">WHAT so sweet as summer,<br />
+<span class="i4">When the sky is blue,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And the sunbeams&rsquo; arrows<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Pierce the green earth through?<br /></span></p>
+</div>
+
+<div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">What so sweet as birds are,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Putting into trills<br /></span>
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_345" id="Page_345">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>345]</a></span>
+<span class="i0">The perfume of the wild-rose,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">The murmur of the rills?<br /></span>
+</div>
+
+<div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">What so sweet as flowers,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Clovers white and red,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Where the brown bee-chemist<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Finds its daily bread?<br /></span>
+</div>
+
+<div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">What so sweet as sun-showers,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">When the big cloud passes,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And the fairy rainbow<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Seems to touch the grasses?<br /></span>
+</div>
+
+<div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">What so sweet as winds are,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Blowing from the woods,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Hinting in their music<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Of dreamy solitudes?<br /></span>
+</div>
+
+<div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Rain, and song, and flower,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">When the summer&rsquo;s shine<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Makes the green earth&rsquo;s beauty<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Seem a thing divine.<br /></span>
+</div>
+
+<p class="poet smcap">Mary N. Prescott.</p>
+</div>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+
+<h2><a name="Page_345lower" id="Page_345lower"></a>COUNTING BABY&rsquo;S TOES.</h2>
+
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p class="cap">DEAR little bare feet,<br />
+<span class="i3">Dimpled and white,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">In your long night-gown<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Wrapped for the night,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Come let me count all<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Your queer little toes,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Pink as the heart<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Of a shell or a rose.<br /></span></p>
+</div>
+
+<div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">One is a lady<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">That sits in the sun;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Two is a baby,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And three is a nun;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Four is a lily<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">With innocent breast,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And five is a birdie<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Asleep on her nest.<br /></span>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_346" id="Page_346">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>346]</a></span></p>
+
+<div class="figcenter ipadtop" style="width: 398px;">
+<img src="images/hd141.jpg" width="398" height="600"
+alt="Uncle John takes Nellie and Rose to see the well" />
+</div>
+
+<p class="caption">THE WELL.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_347" id="Page_347">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>347]</a></span></p>
+
+<h2>THORNS.</h2>
+
+
+<p><span class="dropcap">D</span>EEPDALE is a delightful place to visit.&rdquo; So thought little Nellie
+Harris when she went there to see Cousin Rose. All day long they
+wandered over the farm with Uncle John, first to feed the chickens, then to
+the well so dark and deep Nellie shuddered when she looked far, far down
+into it, and held tight to Rose for fear of falling. Uncle John turned the
+windlass to let Rose and Nellie see the bucket rise all dripping from its watery
+bed.</p>
+
+<p>One morning after Nellie&rsquo;s return to the city, Rose was walking alone in
+the garden.</p>
+
+<p>The flowers were charming, for the dew was not yet off their delicate petals;
+and they were so fragrant that little Rose&rsquo;s nose was put close up to a
+great many, to find which it was that smelled so very sweetly. First she was
+sure it was a great cabbage-rose that nodded at her from its stalk, but soon
+after she was surer that it was a little bed of pansies, or &ldquo;Johnny-jump-ups,&rdquo;
+which turned all their bright little faces to the sun, like a family of newly-washed
+and clean-aproned children just starting for school. Soon, however,
+she was surest that it was a patch of mignonette under the pear tree, which,
+though it looked so plain and humble with its little bits of blossoms, was
+pouring out the richest perfume.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Oh, it is you, is it?&rdquo; said little Rose. &ldquo;Mamma read to us yesterday
+that perfume was the soul of flowers. I guess you have got the biggest soul
+of them all, if you are so little.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Pretty soon Rose began to think of something more substantial than bird-songs,
+sunbeams and flowers. There were very nice raspberries, red and ripe,
+over beyond the currant-bushes, and her mamma allowed her to pick them in
+that part of the garden, for she knew how delightful it is for little folks to eat
+their fruit just where they pick it from the bushes.</p>
+
+<p>Little Rose went around into the lower walk, where she could see the raspberries.
+A good many had ripened over-night, and hung on the long, waving
+stems, waiting to be picked.</p>
+
+<p>There was a short way to them, right across between two great branching
+currant-bushes. She saw it was guarded by long briar-stalks with sharp thorns
+all along their sides, but it was so much nearer than to go around the long
+row of currants. &ldquo;Mamma says we must not be afraid of trials and discouragements
+in our way,&rdquo; Rose said. She was very fond of quoting things she
+heard said or read, and applying them to her own experience.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I guess I can get through. Little girls must be brave!&rdquo; And she pushed
+boldly into the middle of the space between the bushes. But there she caught
+fast, and could not go a step farther. One great, strong branch of thorns
+was stretched across her foot, the sharp points sticking fast in her stocking,
+and hurting her flesh cruelly if she tried to move it. Another one caught
+hold of her little garden-shawl and pulled it away back off her shoulders.
+She pulled and twitched with all her might, but could not get it loose. On
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_348" id="Page_348">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>348]</a></span>
+the other side her little bare elbow was torn and bleeding from a scratch,
+while her dress was held as fast as if a hundred invisible hands were pulling
+at it. There she was. She could not get on nor back. There was nothing
+to be done but to call for her mother. This she did so loudly that everybody
+in the house came rushing to see what was the matter. Dolly and Hannah,
+leaving their dish-washing in the kitchen, got there first, and setting to work
+soon had Rose out, but with scratched hands, arms and feet and two great
+rents in her dress.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;How in the world did you come in there among the briars?&rdquo; asked
+mamma, after they were in the house again and Rose became comforted a
+little.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;It was the nearest way to the raspberries,&rdquo; she answered.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;The nearest? Yes; but not the best. It would have been far better to
+go around by the path.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I heard you tell Cousin Lucy the other day that folks must never mind if
+there were thorns in their way,&rdquo; said little Rose, almost sobbing again, for
+she had thought that at least her mother would praise her courage and philosophy.</p>
+
+<p>Her mother smiled, but presently looked grave.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;My darling,&rdquo; she said, &ldquo;it is true we must not mind thorns if they are
+in the path of duty. But when they grow in any other path, we have a right&mdash;indeed,
+we ought&mdash;to avoid them if we can.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;But wasn&rsquo;t I in the path of duty when I tried to get the raspberries,
+mamma? You said that I might pick all that grew down there.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;You were not doing wrong in trying to get them.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Isn&rsquo;t that the same as duty?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Not exactly. Would it have been wrong for you to do without them?
+Or would you have been to blame for going by the path?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Oh no,&rdquo; said Rose; &ldquo;it would not have been wrong, for nobody said I
+must get them, or that I must go through the currant-bushes.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Then you see it was not duty.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Please tell me exactly what is meant by duty, mamma.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Duty is not only something which we may do, it is something which we
+ought to do, and which it would be wrong to neglect. It is not simply permission,
+but obligation. Is that plain?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Yes, mamma. I understand now. I was permitted to pick the berries,
+but I was not obliged to do it or else do wrong. But if you had sent me to
+pick them for you, it would have been duty.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;And do you think that in that case it would be right to go through the
+thorns?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;No, mamma; I see now. It is right to take the plainest, easiest way
+when we can.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Yes, my dear. We must not be afraid of thorns if our path leads over
+them. But if we leave the true path and foolishly try to push ourselves
+through unnecessary obstacles, it is not bravery or fortitude, but vanity and
+silly rashness.&rdquo;</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_349" id="Page_349">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>349]</a></span></p>
+
+<h2>UNDER THE PEAR TREES.</h2>
+
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p class="cap">UNDER the pear trees one August day,<br />
+<span class="i3">In the long-ago and the far-away,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Four little children rested from play,<br /></span></p>
+</div>
+
+<div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Cheering the hours with childish chat,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Now laughing at this or shouting at that,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Till a golden pear fell straight in Fred&rsquo;s hat.<br /></span>
+</div>
+
+<div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">&ldquo;I&rsquo;m lucky,&rdquo; he cried as he hastened to eat<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The mellow pear so juicy and sweet;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">&ldquo;If I tried for a week, that couldn&rsquo;t be beat.&rdquo;<br /></span>
+</div>
+
+<div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Then Tom and Jenny and Mary spread<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Their hats and aprons wide, and said,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">&ldquo;We can catch pears as well as Fred.&rdquo;<br /></span>
+</div>
+
+<div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Then long and patient they sat, and still,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Hoping a breeze from over the hill<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Their laps with the golden fruit would fill.<br /></span>
+</div>
+
+<div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Till, weary of waiting, Tom said with a sneer,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">&ldquo;I could gather a <em>bushel</em> of pears, &rsquo;tis clear,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">While idly we <em>wait</em> for a <em>windfall</em> here.&rdquo;<br /></span>
+</div>
+
+<div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Then up the tree he sprang, and the power<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Of his sturdy arm soon sent a shower<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Of yellow fruit as a golden dower.<br /></span>
+</div>
+
+<div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">It was long ago, that August day<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">When four little children rested from play<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Under the pear trees far away.<br /></span>
+</div>
+
+<div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">And the children, older and wiser now,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">With furrows of care on either brow,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Have not forgotten the lesson, I trow&mdash;<br /></span>
+</div>
+
+<div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">The lesson they learned on that August day,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">That for having our wishes the surest <em>way</em><br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Is to <em>work</em>, and in <em>earnest</em>, without <em>delay</em>.<br /></span>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_350" id="Page_350">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>350]</a></span></p>
+
+<h2>THE CAVE OF BENTON&rsquo;S RIDGE.</h2>
+
+
+<p><span class="dropcap">T</span>HE cave was a large opening in a
+ledge of rocks, about half a mile
+from the village of M&mdash;&mdash;, and had for
+years been a favorite resort for the boys
+on the holidays.</p>
+
+<p>&rsquo;Twas at the close of school, on a bright
+June day, when, with a rush and a shout,
+out came a bevy of boys from the school-house,
+and over the wall with a bound
+were half a dozen before the rest had
+emerged from the open door. The first
+ones took their way across the fields to
+the cave, and had thrown themselves
+down on the rock at the entrance, and
+were busily talking, when the last comers
+arrived.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;We&rsquo;ve planned to have a time Saturday;
+if Miss Walters will take the botany
+class for a walk, we&rsquo;ll come here and have
+supper, and go home by moonlight,&rdquo; said
+Fred Manning. &ldquo;How does that strike
+you?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Count me in,&rdquo; said Phil Earle. &ldquo;I
+second the motion,&rdquo; said Arthur Ames.
+&ldquo;Where shall we go to walk?&rdquo; said another;
+&ldquo;this is nearly far enough for
+some of the girls.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Pooh! no! we can get some nice
+pitcher-plants, if we go to Eaton&rsquo;s meadows;
+we haven&rsquo;t been there for ever so
+long,&rdquo; said Phil.</p>
+
+<p>All agreed it would be fun, and Phil
+was deputized to ask Miss Walters, and
+with her complete the arrangements.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;It&rsquo;s Thursday now; and I&rsquo;ll ask father
+if we can&rsquo;t have some of the hay
+they are making down in the lower field, to
+put inside the cave; for we must fix up a
+little,&rdquo; said Arthur. Willie Eaton said his
+mother would make them a jug of coffee;
+and as he lived near, he would run round
+that way at noon, and put it in the spring,
+so as to have it nice and cool. For one
+of the attractions of this place was a
+lovely spring, that bubbled and sparkled
+among the ferns, just under the rock
+where the cave was.</p>
+
+<p>Fred and Phil began to lay the stones
+for the fireplace; for though it was not
+cold on these bright June nights, still a
+fire was one of the grand features of the
+occasion.</p>
+
+<p>They all worked, some brushing out the
+cave with bushes, some getting old wood
+in piles to burn, rolling stones for seats,
+etc., until it was time for them to go home,
+when, with merry shouts, off they ran
+down the rock, and over the fields, home.</p>
+
+<p>Next morning Phil called for Miss
+Walters, and on the way told her of the
+plans for Saturday, into which she entered
+heartily, and wanted the boys to
+stay a few moments after the morning
+session, to perfect the arrangements.</p>
+
+<p>At recess she called the girls of the
+botany class to her, and said,&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Girls, can you go on Saturday to
+walk? The boys have invited us to take
+supper at the cave.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;O, yes!&rdquo; &ldquo;O, yes!&rdquo; &ldquo;Yes, indeed!&rdquo;
+&ldquo;Splendid!&rdquo; answered half a dozen
+voices.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;We will meet here at two o&rsquo;clock;
+and you must dress for the meadows.
+I believe the boys are mostly web-footed,
+by the way they take to such places;
+however, we do find the best specimens
+there. Another thing&mdash;the boys are to
+furnish eggs and coffee, they say; and
+each of you can bring what is most convenient.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Off went the girls, eager to plan and
+discuss the welcome project.</p>
+
+<p>Saturday came&mdash;a bright, cloudless
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_351" id="Page_351">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>351]</a></span>
+day. All were at the school-house at
+two, or before, and set forth, looking like
+strollers, as they were.</p>
+
+<p>They did not make many collections
+on the high land; but when they entered
+the meadows, they soon found a variety
+of pretty grasses.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Fudge!&rdquo; said Ella Barton; &ldquo;I&rsquo;m not
+going to get any of that old hay&mdash;would
+you, Miss Walters?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;No, certainly not, if I did not want
+the trouble of carrying it; but I think
+them very lovely to put with branches of
+bayberry, as they form such a pretty contrast
+of color with the delicate pearl-gray
+berries and brown branches; and if you
+add a few bunches of bright red arum
+berries, you have a pretty, fadeless winter
+bouquet.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Where can we get the bayberries?&rdquo;
+said Fred, coming up.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;In most places near the salt water.
+In the town where my home is, there are
+acres and acres of it; and may be at
+Thanksgiving time I can send you some
+to distribute, or, better still, you might
+make up a party, and come down. I&rsquo;ll
+promise you a fine tramp, plenty of berries,
+and perhaps my mother will let you
+taste of her Thanksgiving pies.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Off went Fred&rsquo;s hat high in the air.
+&ldquo;Hurrah for the pie! I&rsquo;ll certainly go,
+if you&rsquo;d like to have me.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Miss Walters laughed, and said nothing
+would give her greater pleasure than to
+welcome the whole party.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;O, Miss Walters, what&rsquo;s this lovely
+flower?&rdquo; &ldquo;Come here, come here!&rdquo;
+&ldquo;O, how lovely! here&rsquo;s plenty more!&rdquo;
+&ldquo;And here, and here,&rdquo; were the exclamations
+of several of the advancing stragglers.</p>
+
+<p>All who were with Miss Walters hastened
+forward; and there, in a wet,
+treacherous-looking place, grew patches
+of a most delicate lilac-colored or light
+purple flower.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;O, that&rsquo;s Arethusa,&rdquo; said the teacher;
+&ldquo;it is very beautiful.&rdquo; Rubber boots only
+can get at them; and two or three boys
+soon returned with hands full, which
+they distributed. Miss Walters said they
+could not stop to analyze any that day,
+but some of each kind must be put in
+the botany box, for the class to work with
+at some future time. As they walked
+along, Miss Walters told them that the
+flower was named after Arethusa of Grecian
+story, who was changed by Diana
+into a fountain, to escape from the god of
+the river where she was one day surprised
+by him while bathing.</p>
+
+<p>They had not gone far when Phil and
+two of the girls came running up with
+hands full of the Sarracenia, or pitcher-plant.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;What fine specimens!&rdquo; said Miss
+Walters.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;O, I know where they grow!&rdquo; said
+Phil. &ldquo;I always go for them every year,
+just over that old fence, in a boggy place.
+I like them better than almost any of the
+plants, they are so curious. But where&rsquo;s
+a basket?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Here, Amy!&rdquo; called Bessie White;
+&ldquo;can&rsquo;t you let me put my small lunch in
+your big basket with yours, and let Phil
+have mine for a specimen basket?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>This arrangement being satisfactorily
+made, they moved along, one of the girls
+telling the new comers of the Arethusa
+and its name. And it was decided that
+all Miss Walters might tell them concerning
+the flowers should be written down,
+for the benefit of all, as they were often
+separated, searching for specimens.</p>
+
+<p>In the next meadow they came upon
+beds of Menyanthes&mdash;an ugly name, and
+its common one of buck-bean is not much
+better. They could find but few perfect
+specimens of the pretty white velvety
+flowers, with their yellow and brown anthers,
+as it was rather late for them.</p>
+
+<p>They found Pogonias and buds of
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_352" id="Page_352">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>352]</a></span>
+Calopogon,&mdash;pretty pinkish flowers,&mdash;both
+of which Miss Walters told them were
+closely related, and, indeed, belonged to
+the same family as the Arethusa. This
+was the Orchid family, which contained
+a large number of beautiful but strange
+plants, about a dozen of which were common
+in New England.</p>
+
+<p>On the edge of an overgrown ditch
+near by they found very nice specimens
+of Andromeda.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;See,&rdquo; said Miss Walters, &ldquo;how white
+and lovely these bells are, in spite of the cold
+wet places where it is compelled to grow.
+It is named after Andromeda, famed in
+Grecian myths, a victim to her mother&rsquo;s
+pride of beauty. Her mother had dared
+to compare herself to the sea nymphs, for
+which they, enraged, sent a huge monster
+to ravage the coast. To appease the
+nymphs, her father thought he must sacrifice
+his daughter; so he chained her to
+the water&rsquo;s edge; but as the monster approached,
+Perseus, assisted by the gods,
+killed him, delivered Andromeda, and afterwards
+married her.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>The party now turned from the meadows
+on to higher ground. Houstonias and violets,
+with here and there Potentilla, covered
+the ground, the last so called because
+it was supposed to be powerful in medicine,
+<i>potens</i>, from which it is derived,
+meaning powerful.</p>
+
+<p>The Saxifrage on the rocks, derived
+from Latin words, indicating its manner
+of growth.</p>
+
+<p>Anemones, or wind flowers, were not
+entirely gone; so named because it was
+formerly thought the flowers only opened
+when the wind blew.</p>
+
+<p>Specimens multiplied. Each little group
+found something new.</p>
+
+<p>Trilliums, remarkable for having leaves,
+sepals, petals, and seed-vessels in threes;
+Smilacina, with its clean, green leaves,
+and white flowers, grew plentifully about
+them; Streptopus, meaning twisted foot,
+called so because its foot, or pedicel, is
+twisted.</p>
+
+<p>About five o&rsquo;clock they began their
+homeward walk, which took them round
+through some grand old pine woods. At
+last they came to their resting-place. All
+were more or less tired; and glad were
+they when they saw the black mouth of
+the cave open invitingly before them.
+Some threw themselves on the rock outside,
+some went in and rested on the fragrant
+hay that Arthur had piled on the
+floor.</p>
+
+<p>After resting a while in the cool shade,
+Phil said, &ldquo;I have a bright thought that
+rhymes with &lsquo;light.&rsquo;&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Is it the opposite of &lsquo;loose&rsquo;?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;It is not &lsquo;tight.&rsquo;&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Is it what you are sometimes?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;It is not &lsquo;bright.&rsquo;&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;O, I meant a &lsquo;fright&rsquo;!&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Thank you; it is not &lsquo;fright.&rsquo;&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Is it what we are all wishing for?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;It is a &lsquo;bite.&rsquo;&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>This was greeted with a shout, and
+committee number one, self-appointed,
+started for the baskets. Others arranged
+the table with boards and rocks put outside
+the cave door. The eatables were
+soon temptingly arranged. The jug of
+coffee and bottle of milk, with rubber
+mugs, were placed under Arthur&rsquo;s care;
+and he soon had as much as he could do
+to pour the refreshing draughts.</p>
+
+<p>The girls had little to do, the boys doing
+the honors in fine style. Very merry
+they grew over the good things; and so
+intent were they trying to sell the last at
+auction, that they never noticed a large cloud
+that had overspread the sky, until
+a few drops of rain fell upon the table.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Here&rsquo;s a pretty go!&rdquo; said Fred.
+&ldquo;Run, Miss Walters; and, girls, get into
+the cave, and we&rsquo;ll clear the tables.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<div class="figcenter ipadboth" style="width: 502px;">
+<img src="images/hd142.jpg" width="502" height="400"
+alt="The friends' picnic is spoiled by the rain" />
+</div>
+
+<p>Busy hands quickly disposed of all the
+articles to be kept dry, and the boys were
+glad to get into the friendly shelter.
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_353" id="Page_353">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>353]</a></span>
+Down came the rain, heavily rolled the
+thunder, and for a little while the lightning
+was vivid. Soon the rain began to
+find its way into the cave.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;This will not do. Where&rsquo;s the table,
+Fred? We must have up a storm door,&rdquo;
+said Phil.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;All ready to slide right up,&rdquo; said
+Fred. &ldquo;Arthur, will you get the chandelier
+ready? for it will be rather dark when
+the door is up.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Arthur crept on his hands and knees to
+a little crevice in the inner part of the
+cave, and drew out a tin box, with four
+holes in the cover. The girls gathered
+around, and were much amused to see
+him take out his four candles. These he
+stuck into the holes of the box; and
+lighting them, he placed them on a shelf
+prepared expressly for the occasion.</p>
+
+<p>Never were boys and girls more happy.
+They were enjoying excitement without
+danger or discomfort. They sang, played
+games; and when the rain had nearly
+ceased, some of the boys ran out and
+lighted the fire. They had kept the wood
+dry. Then turning the table on its side,
+they put out the candles, and had the full
+benefit of the fire-light. For a while conundrums
+were the order of the day;
+then they drew lots to determine who
+should tell the first story. It fell to Millie
+Gray, who, with timid modesty, demurred;
+but the penalty threatened for default was
+so great, that though she had never told a
+story in her life, she thought she had better
+begin now. Attentively they listened,
+waiting for her to begin. Presently she
+commenced.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;There was, once upon a time, a beautiful
+little girl, with blue eyes and golden
+hair.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_354" id="Page_354">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>354]</a></span>
+&ldquo;O,&rdquo; interrupted Fred, &ldquo;can&rsquo;t we have
+this one with black eyes and red hair, or
+brown eyes; I&rsquo;m tired of blue eyes and
+yellow hair.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;No, no, no,&rdquo; said Arthur; &ldquo;I like
+blue eyes. Go on, Millie.&rdquo; With a blush&mdash;for
+her own were blue, and she knew
+what Arthur meant&mdash;she continued.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Well, I like to oblige all parties,&rdquo; replied
+Millie. &ldquo;Suppose we say her eyes
+were black and blue; but if any one else
+interrupts, I&rsquo;ll have them committed for
+contempt of court, and they shall be bound
+over to keep the peace.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Which piece?&rdquo; Fred was beginning
+to say, when Arthur jumped up and placed
+his hand over Fred&rsquo;s mouth, saying, &ldquo;Consider
+yourself bound over, sir.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Well, this little girl lived in a deep
+forest, in a little bit of a house, with no
+one for company but her grandmother
+and a little yellow dog.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;The grandmother was just as cross as
+she could be, and poor little&mdash;let&rsquo;s see,
+what shall I call her?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Odahbeetoqua,&rdquo; suggested Fred. &ldquo;I
+suppose she was descended from the
+Indians.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Yes,&rdquo; said Millie, very seriously, &ldquo;that
+was her name; but nobody called her by it
+all at one time; they said Daisy, for short.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Well, one day little Daisy felt so sad
+and lonely, and her grandmother had been
+so cross, that she said to the little yellow
+dog,&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;&lsquo;Tip, let&rsquo;s run away. I&rsquo;m tired of
+staying here. Granny is so cross, I cannot
+stand it another minute.&rsquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;&lsquo;Yes, indeed. I&rsquo;ll go with you, Daisy,&rsquo;
+said Tip, wagging his tail; &lsquo;for this
+morning, when I was licking up a bit of
+butter off the floor, she kicked me, and
+hit me over the head with a broom, and
+threw a stick of wood after me as I indignantly
+left the premises, and wounded my
+feelings very much.&rsquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;&lsquo;But then, Tip, suppose we should
+get lost in the woods, and die of starvation,
+and bears should eat us up.&rsquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;&lsquo;Trust to me, Daisy,&rsquo; Tip replied.
+&lsquo;I will lead you safely out of the wood,
+and see that nothing hurts you.&rsquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Just then a woman came to the door,
+and said, &lsquo;I have heard your conversation.
+Come with me, and you shall both live in
+a nice house, where you can play all day,
+and have fine clothes, and plenty to eat.&rsquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;&lsquo;Ah, wouldn&rsquo;t that be pleasant!&rsquo; said
+Daisy; and she was just preparing to go
+with the woman, when she stopped suddenly,
+and said, &lsquo;But who will get wood
+for granny&rsquo;s fire? and who will pick berries
+for her? She&rsquo;d die if we should
+leave her alone. No, I can&rsquo;t leave her.
+She&rsquo;s very cross; but then, she is sick
+all the time, nearly, and I won&rsquo;t go.&rsquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;&lsquo;O, yes, do!&rsquo; said the woman. &lsquo;I
+have a lovely white pony, as gentle as a
+kitten, that you shall have to ride, and
+beautiful dresses. You&rsquo;d better come.&rsquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;&lsquo;Thank you,&rsquo; said Daisy; &lsquo;I&rsquo;d like
+to go with you. You may take Tip. Perhaps
+he&rsquo;d like to go, but I won&rsquo;t leave
+grandmother; she&rsquo;d die if I did.&rsquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;No sooner had Daisy finished speaking,
+than the woman turned into a beautiful
+fairy, the shanty turned into a palace,
+granny turned into a queen, Daisy into a
+lovely princess, with black and blue&mdash;I
+mean heavenly&mdash;eyes, and Tip turned
+into a beautiful prince, all dressed in embroidered
+green velvet; and down on his
+knees he fell at the princess&rsquo;s feet, vowing
+love and fidelity untold.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;The fairy spread her wings over the
+young couple, saying, &lsquo;Behold the reward
+of unselfishness!&rsquo; and vanished, leaving
+them in all their bliss.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Millie&rsquo;s story was greeted with shouts
+of applause and flattering comments.</p>
+
+<p>The boys were about renewing the fire,
+when Miss Walters announced that it was
+seven o&rsquo;clock.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;O, don&rsquo;t go yet!&rdquo; shouted Phil from
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_355" id="Page_355">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>355]</a></span>
+the wood-pile. &ldquo;We&rsquo;ve wood enough for
+an hour yet. Seven o&rsquo;clock&rsquo;s awful early.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Don&rsquo;t go, don&rsquo;t go!&rdquo; came from a
+chorus of voices; and Miss Walters, who
+only cared for their comfort, said she
+would stay if that was the general wish,
+or would go with any of the girls that
+were in haste to get home. No one made
+any movement to go, and she was quietly
+led back to her throne on the hay, at the
+entrance of the cave.</p>
+
+<p>A song was proposed, and Miss W.
+led them in the sweet words of &ldquo;In the
+Beauty of the Lilies,&rdquo; the boys coming
+out strong with the chorus. Then two
+girls sang a duet very sweetly. Another
+hour glided swiftly away, when Miss Walters
+said, &ldquo;Phil, your fire burns low; push
+the blazing ends for a final blaze, so we may
+get all our things; for we must go now.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Everything arranged, they bade good by
+to the hospitable cave, then marched down
+the hill, the boys whistling &ldquo;When Johnny
+comes marching Home.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>On they trudged, dropping various members
+of their little party as they turned off
+to go to their homes. All agreed they had
+had a delightful day.</p>
+
+<p class="sig">F. E. S.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+
+<div class="figcenter ipadboth" style="width: 514px;">
+<a name="Page_355lower" id="Page_355lower"></a>
+<img src="images/hd143.jpg" width="514" height="400"
+alt="The lynx, bear and eagle go after the hunters' buffalo carcass" />
+</div>
+
+<h2>THE HAUNTS OF WILD BEASTS.</h2>
+
+
+<p><span class="dropcap">I</span>N crossing the forests which lie about
+that singular system of ponds and
+lakes that occupy the northern interior of
+the State of Maine, the tourist and hunter
+will often come upon well-beaten paths,
+running through the woods, trodden hard,
+as if by the passage of myriads of feet;
+and this in a region rarely, or never, entered
+by man. They are the paths of
+wild beasts&mdash;bears, lynxes, wildcats, the
+moose, and the carribou,&mdash;along which
+they pass from lake to lake, in pursuit of
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_356" id="Page_356"><!-- Illustration - THE GRIZZLY BEAR --></a></span>
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_357" id="Page_357">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>357]</a></span>
+their food, or upon hostile forays. When
+two lakes adjoin each other, with no more
+than a mile or half a mile of forest between
+them, there will nearly always be
+found, across the narrowest part of the
+isthmus, a path of this sort, more or less
+worn, according as the locality abounds
+with game, or the lakes with fish.</p>
+
+<div class="figcenter ipadtop" style="width: 600px;">
+<img src="images/hd144.jpg" width="600" height="456"
+alt="The bear standing on a rock outcrop" />
+</div>
+
+<p class="caption">THE GRIZZLY BEAR.</p>
+
+<p>One of the widest and most used of
+these that I have ever seen, led from the
+bank of Moose River up to the low shores
+of Holeb Pond, in one of the not yet numbered
+townships near the Canada line&mdash;so
+near that the high, dingy summit of
+the &ldquo;Hog&rsquo;s Back&rdquo; was plainly visible to
+the north-westward. Starting out from
+between two large boulders on the stream,
+which at this point is broken by rips, it
+runs crooking and turning amid clumps
+of hazel and alder, till lost to view in a
+wide flat, covered with &ldquo;high bush&rdquo; cranberries,
+but lost to sight only, however;
+for its tortuous course still continues beneath
+the thick shrubs, until at a distance
+of two hundred rods it emerges on the pond.</p>
+
+<p>Happening to cross it a year ago last
+autumn, in company with Rod Nichols
+(my comrade on these tramps), the idea
+suggested itself that a good thing might
+perhaps be done by setting our traps along
+the path. For where there were so many
+passing feet, some of them might without
+doubt be entrapped.</p>
+
+<p>Rod thought it was the &ldquo;beat&rdquo; of some
+bears, or &ldquo;lucivees,&rdquo; while I inclined to
+the opinion that otters or &ldquo;fishers&rdquo; had
+made it.</p>
+
+<p>So we brought up our traps,&mdash;half a
+dozen small ones, which we used for sable
+and otter&mdash;from the dug-out (canoe) down
+on the stream, and during the following afternoon
+set them at different points in the
+path, between the border of the cranberry
+flat and the river. Then drawing our canoe
+up out of the water, we encamped on the
+stream about a mile below the path, and
+waited for the game.</p>
+
+<p>Our stock of deer meat had got out.
+We had to content ourselves, both for
+supper and breakfast, the following morning,
+with a couple of hares&mdash;lean as usual.
+Who ever saw a fat hare?</p>
+
+<p>Old hunters are always telling the young
+sportsman about the marvellous properties
+of shaving-soap made from hare&rsquo;s
+tallow and cedar ashes. The flesh has
+about as much taste and nutrition in it as&mdash;so
+much paper pulp, for want of a better
+comparison to express its utter lack
+of flavor. But during the forenoon we
+managed to shoot four partridges. These
+we first parboiled in our camp kettle, then
+broiled on coals. They made us a comfortable
+dinner; and towards sunset we
+again paddled up the stream, to visit the
+traps.</p>
+
+<p>Coming near where the path strikes
+out from the river, we drew up the dug-out,
+and followed in to the place where
+we had set the first trap. It was gone;
+but the grass about the spot was beaten
+down, and the bushes broken. And on
+looking around, we discovered a trail
+leading off through the weeds. Following
+this for ten or a dozen rods, we
+came to a large, rough stone; and near
+it lay the trap, shattered and bent, with
+the springs broken, and the jaws gaping
+and powerless. The stone, too,
+looked newly scratched, as if from heavy
+blows. The trap had evidently been
+beaten upon.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Some large animal,&rdquo; said I.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Bear, probably,&rdquo; said Rod. &ldquo;They
+will frequently smash up a small trap to
+get it off their feet.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Whatever it was, the creature had freed
+himself and gone. Rod picked up the
+broken trap, and we went back, and on
+to the next.</p>
+
+<p>This one was just as we had placed it&mdash;not
+sprung. So we kept on to the
+third, which was sprung, but empty, with
+little clots of hair clinging to the teeth.
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_358" id="Page_358">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>358]</a></span>
+The hair looked like that of a sable; but
+he, too, had escaped.</p>
+
+<p>The fourth was sprung and drawn out
+of the path. We crept cautiously up, and
+lo! we had a contemptible little musquash
+(muskrat)&mdash;skin not worth a shilling.
+He was busy as a bee gnawing at
+his leg. In a few minutes more he would
+have been at liberty&mdash;minus a foot. If
+left any length of time after being caught,
+they will frequently gnaw off the leg in
+the trap. For this reason, those who
+make a business of trapping them set
+their traps under water, well weighted.
+They will then drown in a few moments,
+and may thus be secured.</p>
+
+<p>The last two traps were not sprung.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;A big thing this!&rdquo; muttered Rod.
+&ldquo;Had our labor for our pains. Too bad.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>We were near the edge of the cranberry
+flat; and just as Rod was bemoaning our
+poor luck, a slight crackling out in the
+thick cranberry bushes came to our ears.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Hark!&rdquo; whispered Rod; &ldquo;something
+out there. The bear, perhaps.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Standing on tiptoe, we peeped quietly
+over the tops of the bushes, now laden
+with the green cranberries. Off some
+seventeen or eighteen rods, something
+was slowly moving. We could see it
+plainly&mdash;something which, at first sight,
+looked like the roots of an old dry
+pine stump, a great mass of stubs and
+prongs.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;A moose!&rdquo; exclaimed Rod, in an
+eager whisper. &ldquo;A moose browsing the
+cranberries! Quick with your rifle! Together
+now!&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>We both fired. The huge animal, fully
+nine feet in height beneath his antlers,
+bounded into the air at the reports, with a
+wild, hoarse cry, which I can compare to
+nothing I have ever heard for hideousness.
+In a frightful way it resembled the neigh
+of a horse, or, rather, the loud squeal of
+that animal when bitten or otherwise hurt&mdash;bounded
+up, then fell, floundering and
+wallowing amid the cranberries, uttering
+hideous moans.</p>
+
+<p>As quickly as we could for the thick
+and tangled bushes, we made our way
+out towards the spot. The fearful struggles
+stilled as we drew near. Our aim,
+at so short a distance, had been thoroughly
+fatal. A great opening in the
+bushes had been smashed down, in the
+midst of which lay the moose, with its
+large nostrils dilated, gasping and quivering.
+But its great ox eyes were set, and
+rapidly glazing. The bushes were all besprinkled
+and drenched with blood. One
+bullet had struck and broken the skull into
+the brain; that was Rod&rsquo;s. Mine had
+gone into the breast, striking the lungs,&mdash;probably,
+from the profuse bleeding.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;A pretty good shot!&rdquo; exclaimed
+Rod, looking upon the slaughter from a
+purely business stand-point. &ldquo;Moosehide
+is always worth something. So are
+those antlers. A noble set&mdash;aren&rsquo;t they?
+All of four feet broad across the top.
+Pretty heavy to lug; we can put them
+in the canoe, though.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Then there&rsquo;s the meat,&rdquo; said I.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;That&rsquo;s so,&rdquo; cried Rod, smacking his
+lips. &ldquo;No more rabbit&rsquo;s broth for us at
+present. O, won&rsquo;t we have some grand
+moose steaks! Do you hear that, old
+boy? How does that strike your fancy?
+Come, let&rsquo;s skin him, and cut him up. I
+long to behold some of that surloin broiling!
+Rabbit meat, indeed!&rdquo; and Rod
+whipped out his hunting-knife, and fell
+upon the carcass with the zeal of a hungry
+bald eagle.</p>
+
+<p>In a few minutes we had stripped off
+the skin. Rod then wrenched off the
+antlers, cut out the muffle (the end of the
+nose), and also about a hundred weight
+of what he considered the choicest of the
+meat. The rest of it&mdash;nine or ten hundred
+pounds&mdash;we could only leave where
+it had fallen. It would be of no use to
+us, so far from the settled lands.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_359" id="Page_359">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>359]</a></span></p>
+
+<div class="figcenter ipadtop" style="width: 600px;">
+<img src="images/hd145.jpg" width="600" height="446"
+alt="A tiger pauses to look around" />
+</div>
+
+<p class="caption">THE TIGER.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_360" id="Page_360">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>360]</a></span>
+To carry our spoils down to our canoe,
+we had to make two trips; for the antlers
+alone were as much as one could take
+along at once. We had gone back after
+them and the hide.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Too bad,&rdquo; remarked Rod, &ldquo;to leave
+all this flesh here to rot above ground.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I doubt if it be left to rot above
+ground,&rdquo; said I. &ldquo;There are too many
+hungry mouths about for that.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Right there,&rdquo; said Rod; &ldquo;and that
+makes me think we might use it to lure
+them, and to bait our traps with. Drag
+it out to the path, and set the traps
+round it.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>The idea seemed a good one. So we
+cut the remains of the carcass in two.
+Whole it was too heavy to be moved.
+Then, fastening some stout withes into
+them, we dragged the pieces, one after
+the other, out to the path, and left it at
+the place where the path entered the
+cranberry bushes. This done, we set the
+traps about it,&mdash;the remaining five,&mdash;and
+then went back to the canoe with the
+antlers and skin.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Made a very fair thing of it, after all,&rdquo;
+remarked Rod, as we floated with the
+current down to our camp. &ldquo;Tell you
+what, old fellow, these steaks are not to
+be sneezed at. More than ordinary pot
+luck just at this time.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>It is needless to say that we fully satisfied
+our taste for venison that night, or
+that our breakfast next morning was
+merely a repetition of supper. Such
+things are to be expected in the wilderness.
+Suffice it to add, that we neither
+overate nor overslept, but were up betimes,
+and off to examine our traps considerably
+before sunrise. We did not go
+up in the canoe on the river, but walked
+along the bank through the woods.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;We may surprise a bear or a lynx at
+the carcass,&rdquo; said Rod.</p>
+
+<p>So, as we drew near the place where we
+had left it in the path the evening before,
+we made our way amid the brush with as
+little noise as possible. A small hollow,
+overrun with hackmatack, led up towards
+the spot. We crept along the bed of it,
+in order to approach unobserved. Pausing
+a moment to listen, the clank of a
+chain came faintly to our ears, then a
+growling, worrying noise, heard when two
+creatures, jealous of each other&rsquo;s rights,
+eat from the same piece.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Game!&rdquo; whispered Rod.</p>
+
+<p>Climbing quietly up the steep side, we
+peeped out from amid the green boughs.
+We had got up within nine or ten rods;
+but intervening bushes partially hid the
+carcass. Something was moving about
+it, however&mdash;something black. The trap
+chains were rattling. Then a big black
+head was raised, to growl; and as if in
+reply came a sharp snarl from some animal
+out of sight. The black creature
+darted forward; and a great uproar arose,
+growling, grappling, and spitting, at which
+there flew up a whole flock of crows,
+cawing and hawing; and the noise increasing,
+there sprang into the air, at a
+single flap, a great yellow bird, uttering a
+savage scream.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;An eagle!&rdquo; whispered Rod; &ldquo;and
+that black creature&rsquo;s a bear, I guess.
+Can&rsquo;t see him just plainly. Growls like
+one, though. Fighting with some other
+animal&mdash;isn&rsquo;t he? Some sort of a cat,
+by the spitting.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Shall we fire on them?&rdquo; said I.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;No; let &rsquo;em have it out,&rdquo; said Rod.
+&ldquo;One of them will be pretty sure to get
+chewed up, and the other won&rsquo;t leave the
+carcass. Besides, the cat&rsquo;s in the trap, I
+reckon, by the rattling.&rdquo; For the jingling
+of the chain could still be heard over the
+howling they were making. But ere the
+fight had lasted many seconds, a suppressed
+screech, followed by a crunching
+sound, told ill for one or the other of the
+combatants. &ldquo;The cat&rsquo;s got his death
+hug,&rdquo; muttered Rod.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_361" id="Page_361">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>361]</a></span>
+Presently the bear&mdash;a great, clumsy-looking
+fellow&mdash;came out into view,
+strutted along, scrubbing his feet on
+the grass, like a dog, and went back to
+the carcass. The eagle and the crows
+had come back to it. They flew before
+him.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Keep your eye on the eagle,&rdquo; whispered
+Rod. &ldquo;I would like to get him.
+It isn&rsquo;t a &lsquo;white head.&rsquo; Never saw one
+like it.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>The great bird circled slowly several
+times, then stooped, almost touching the
+bear&rsquo;s shaggy back with its hooked talons.
+At that the bear raised his ugly muzzle,
+all reeking from his feast, and growled
+menacingly. This was repeated several
+times, the bear warning him off at each
+stoop, and sometimes striking with his
+big paw. Finding the bear not inclined
+to divide with him, the eagle, with
+one mighty flap of his wings, rose up to
+the top of a tall hemlock standing near,
+and perched upon it. We could see the
+branches bend and sway beneath his
+weight.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I&rsquo;ll have him now,&rdquo; muttered Rod,
+poking the muzzle of his rifle out through
+the boughs. &ldquo;You take the bear. Ready!
+now!&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>We blazed away. With a wild shriek
+the eagle came tumbling down through
+the hemlock. Rod ran out towards him,
+and I made up to the bear. Old Bruin
+was merely wounded&mdash;an ugly flesh
+wound; and not knowing whence it
+came, he had flown at the dead lynx,&mdash;for
+such it turned out to be,&mdash;and was
+giving him another hugging. Seeing me,
+he started up, to rectify his mistake, probably;
+but I had put in another charge,
+and instantly gave him a quietus. Just
+then Rod came up, dragging the eagle.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Never saw one like it,&rdquo; exclaimed he.
+&ldquo;I mean to take it down to Greenville.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>After skinning the bear and the lynx,
+we gathered up the traps, and went down
+to our camp. Together with the spoils
+of the moose, we had now a full canoe
+load, and stowing them in, went down
+the river that afternoon. Two days after,
+we arrived at Greenville, at the foot of
+Moosehead Lake. There we fell in with
+a party of tourists&mdash;from Boston, I believe.
+They pronounced Rod&rsquo;s &ldquo;big
+bird&rdquo; to be a golden eagle.</p>
+
+<p class="sig smcap">C. A. Stephens.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+
+<h2><a name="Page_361lower" id="Page_361lower"></a>WORSHIP OF NATURE.</h2>
+
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p class="cap">THE green earth sends her incense up<br />
+<span class="i3">From many a mountain shrine;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">From folded leaf and dewy cup,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">She pours her sacred wine.<br /></span></p>
+</div>
+
+<div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">The mists above the morning rills<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Rise white as wings of prayer;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The altar curtains of the hills<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Are sunset&rsquo;s purple air.<br /></span>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_362" id="Page_362">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>362]</a></span></p>
+
+<h2>A HUNTING ADVENTURE.</h2>
+
+
+<p><span class="dropcap">T</span>IRED of the heat and confusion of
+the city, my friend Clarke and I left
+New York one fine morning for a hunting
+excursion on the prairies.</p>
+
+<p>At Galena, on the Mississippi, we went
+aboard a steamer which conveyed us to
+St. Paul. Here we fitted out for the trip,
+and finally, at Sauk Rapids set our foot
+for the first time on the prairie.</p>
+
+<p>From the Mississippi, at Sauk Rapids,
+we struck about north-west across the
+prairie for Fort Garry, a Hudson Bay
+Company&rsquo;s fort, at the junction of the
+Assiniboine and Red River, where we
+replenished some of our stores; and
+thence we travelled through the Sioux, or
+Da-ko-tah country, until we reached Turtle
+Mountain.</p>
+
+<p>Our party consisted of Clarke and myself,
+two French Canadians, whom we had
+engaged at St. Paul, and a half-breed,
+whom we had met on the frontier before
+reaching Fort Garry.</p>
+
+<p>One evening, before camping at the base
+of Turtle Mountain, Clarke and I gave
+chase to some buffalo, and I killed one,
+which I proceeded to cut up at once by
+removing the tongue and undercut of the
+fillet. The meat I tied to the thongs of
+my saddle, placed there especially for that
+purpose, and I rejoined the camp before
+nightfall. Clarke came back shortly afterwards,
+having killed his buffalo in three
+or four shots, and after a long chase. This
+had delayed him so much, that he lacked
+time to cut up his animal; so he marked
+the spot as well as he could by its bearings
+with Turtle Mountain, and he rode
+homewards to the camp, intending to go
+on the following morning, and get the
+meat for home consumption.</p>
+
+<p>We cooked and ate our dinners, and
+rolling ourselves up in our buffalo robes,
+we slept most soundly. The following
+morning, Clarke went out and fetched his
+pony, which was picketed near the camp,
+saddled it, took his rifle and hunting-knife,
+and then off he started to look for the
+dead buffalo of the previous evening, cut
+it up, and bring home some of the meat.</p>
+
+<p>I remained in camp; and as my wardrobe
+was rather dilapidated from constant
+hunting, and the limited number of clothes
+I had with me, I proceeded to mend my
+trousers, which were worn through just
+where it might naturally be expected they
+would first give way. This I could only
+do by shortening the legs of the garment.
+However, the end justified the means in
+this case.</p>
+
+<p>These repairs, with other necessary
+work about our rifles and guns, occupied
+the morning very pleasantly; and about
+midday I went up the hill behind our
+camp, where a small bluff, or headland,
+projected from it over the vast grassy
+plain. I took my telescope with me, as
+every traveller in those wild regions should
+always do, when spying out either the fatness
+of the land or the possible surrounding
+dangers. Far and wide my eye fell
+over the gentle undulations of the prairie,
+but no deer or buffalo could I see.</p>
+
+<p>No; instead of quietly feeding game, I
+discovered my friend Clarke, some three
+or four miles from camp, galloping at the
+top of his horse&rsquo;s speed towards us, and
+five Indians in hot pursuit of him.</p>
+
+<p>Knowing his danger, I of course ran
+down the bluff as hard as I could to the
+camp, and holloaed to the men to make
+haste and come to the rescue. I then
+ran for my pony, which was picketed at
+a short distance from our tent; but he
+was difficult to catch, or had drawn his
+peg out of the ground. At any rate, I
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_363" id="Page_363">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>363]</a></span>
+could not get hold of him; so I gave him
+up, and seizing my rifle, darted off as hard
+as I could to meet my friend.</p>
+
+<div class="figcenter ipadboth" style="width: 409px;">
+<img src="images/hd146.jpg" width="409" height="450"
+alt="Clarke being pursued by the Indians" />
+</div>
+
+<p>The men also turned out with their
+guns; and soon afterwards Clarke rode
+up, both he and his pony looking much
+distressed. Clarke was as white as a
+sheet, and his pony was completely blown.
+The Indians sheered off on seeing us ready
+with our rifles. So no shot was fired;
+for they never came within range.</p>
+
+<p>I then asked Clarke what had happened;
+and I give you his story of the affair.</p>
+
+<p>On leaving camp in the morning, he had
+gone in search of the dead buffalo of the
+previous night. He soon found the carcass;
+and wishing to bring home the
+meat, he got off his pony, tied the animal
+to the horns of the buffalo,&mdash;as you are
+always taught to do in the Indian country,&mdash;and
+straightway began to cut off the
+pieces of meat which he wished to bring
+back to camp. Whilst so employed, he
+thought he saw another herd of buffalo
+not far away; so he finished cutting off
+the meat, and rode towards the new herd,
+on murderous thoughts intent.</p>
+
+<p>He stalked the herd for some distance,
+until he thought himself tolerably near,
+when he looked round the corner of a
+hillock, and then to his horror found he
+had been carefully approaching five
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_364" id="Page_364">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>364]</a></span>
+Indians, who were congregated round a dead
+buffalo, their horses close by, and the men
+occupied in cutting up the beast.</p>
+
+<p>Before he could turn to flee out of sight
+the Indians discovered him. They were
+Sioux, and at war with the whites. Instantly
+they jumped on their horses and
+gave chase, fired, no doubt, with the noble
+zeal to hang a white scalp in a Sioux lodge.
+Off went Clarke as hard as his little pony
+could carry him, the Indians shouting behind,
+and brandishing their guns in the
+air as they became excited by the chase,
+whilst he was thinking of the probability
+that existed of his scalp returning to camp,
+or dangling at the saddle-bow of one of
+these bloodthirsty savages.</p>
+
+<p>Clarke supposes that he was five or six
+miles from camp when the chase began;
+and he recollected well throwing the cover
+away from his rifle, in preparation for a
+fight should his pony fall, or the Indians
+catch him through the superior speed of
+their animals.</p>
+
+<p>Imagine the horrible feelings of a young
+fellow galloping away from five wild redskins,
+who not only desire to kill him
+then and there, but have, further, the
+sportsman-like anxiety to strip his scalp,
+and hang the dearly-beloved trophy in
+some filthy lodge, where it will gradually
+dry up, and remain the most valued heirloom
+in the family of the &ldquo;Big Snake,&rdquo;
+or the &ldquo;Screeching Eagle,&rdquo; or some other
+no less happily-named Sioux.</p>
+
+<p>Their horrible shrieks ring in his ears,
+whilst he anxiously measures with his
+eyes the distance betwixt himself and his
+bloodthirsty pursuers; he endeavors to
+estimate his chances of escape, and longs
+for the protection of the camp, as Wellington
+longed for night or Blucher, knowing
+that if he falls he will be shot, or tomahawked
+and scalped, in the course of a
+couple of minutes.</p>
+
+<p>No wonder, then, that poor Clarke did
+look as if he had seen a ghost, or encountered
+something even much worse; nor
+do I believe that during his subsequent
+army service he was ever much nearer a
+horrible death than during the few minutes
+which that pursuit lasted.</p>
+
+<p>To conclude the account of this adventure,
+we covered his return to camp with
+our rifles, as I mentioned in the earlier
+part of this story; and you may conceive
+that we kept a very strict watch in the
+camp during the night, fearing lest the
+Sioux should either stampede us with an
+increased number of their friends after
+nightfall, or try to carry off our horses,
+and leave us deserted in the midst of the
+prairie. However, the night passed off
+quietly; and often since then have Clarke
+and I talked over this memorable adventure.</p>
+
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p class="cap">ONE step and then another,<br />
+<span class="i3">And the longest walk is ended;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">One stitch and then another,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And the largest rent is mended.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">One brick upon another,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And the highest wall is made;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">One flake upon another,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And the deepest snow is laid.<br /></span></p>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_365" id="Page_365">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>365]</a></span></p>
+
+<h2>NEARLY LOST.</h2>
+
+
+<p><span class="dropcap">I</span> KNOW what I shall do!&rdquo; exclaimed
+Walter Harrison to about a dozen
+other boys, his schoolfellows, who were
+standing round him. &ldquo;I shall just tell
+&lsquo;old Barnacles&rsquo; that my father and
+mother wish me to have a holiday this
+afternoon, and he can&rsquo;t say &lsquo;no&rsquo; to that.
+It&rsquo;s the simplest and best way. If you
+all agree to it, we shall get a holiday all
+around. Who&rsquo;ll go in for my plan?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I will! and I! and I!&rdquo; responded
+nearly all the boys.</p>
+
+<p>The facts of the case were simply
+these: There were taking place in a
+park close by a series of athletic sports,
+and this afternoon the admission was free
+to any one who chose to go. Of course
+all the boys in Mr. Jackson&rsquo;s school were
+mad to see the sports; but by the time
+the school was out the best fun would be
+over, and the majority of the boys guessed
+pretty shrewdly what would be the result
+of asking their parents to let them stay
+away. The grand idea was to induce the
+master to give a general holiday, but the
+question was how that desirable end was
+to be brought about. It had been suggested
+to stay away bodily, without so
+much as saying, &ldquo;With your leave or by
+your leave;&rdquo; but as such a course carried
+a certainty of punishment in its train, it
+was universally rejected. Another idea,
+which had received some favor, had been
+to trip up the poor half-blind schoolmaster,
+quite by accident, and by rendering
+him incapable obtain the desired
+holiday, but there had been a majority
+found to protest against such cruelty;
+and now Walter Harrison had suggested
+his plan. But although most of them
+were inclined to adopt it, there were two
+who resolutely refused to do so.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Why won&rsquo;t you join us?&rdquo; asked
+Walter of these two.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I sha&rsquo;n&rsquo;t, because I&rsquo;m not going to tell
+a pack of lies for the sake of a holiday,&rdquo;
+answered Willie Ford, the younger of the
+two.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;How good we are!&rdquo; replied Walter,
+tauntingly; and then throwing his cap
+up into the air, he sang out:</p>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">&ldquo;&lsquo;There was a curly-headed boy<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Who never told a lie;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">He knew a trick worth two of that:<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">That was the reason why.&rsquo;<br /></span>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Sly fox!&rdquo; he said, patting Willie on the
+back. &ldquo;He does the &lsquo;good&rsquo; dodge to
+perfection, and finds it answers too; don&rsquo;t
+you, Ford?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Walter&rsquo;s sallies were received with roars
+of laughter by the boys. Willie took no
+notice of them, although it was a difficult
+matter to restrain his anger.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;What a milksop the fellow is!&rdquo; cried
+out one of the boys.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;A stupid little muff!&rdquo; cried another.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Am I?&rdquo; cried Willie, his temper now
+fully roused; &ldquo;I&rsquo;ll show you about that.
+Although I&rsquo;m not going to tell lies, I&rsquo;ll
+fight any one of you. Come now, Harrison,
+let&rsquo;s have it out together.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Harrison burst out laughing: &ldquo;Fancy
+me fighting with a little cock-sparrow like
+you! I should like to see myself!&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Willie was about to burst out again, but
+a friendly hand was laid on his arm, and
+his friend Philip said, gently, &ldquo;Come
+away, Will; no fighting about such a
+trifle as that, lad.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;What a peppery little chap!&rdquo; called
+out Walter as Willie turned away with
+his friend. &ldquo;Pepper and sop! Ugh! what
+a nasty mess!&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>The boys followed out their plan, and
+got their holiday, all except Willie and
+Philip and several little fellows who had
+taken no interest in the matter.</p>
+
+<p>School over, the two boys rushed off
+in the hope that they might be in time to
+see something. They were too late, however,
+for the performances were just coming
+to an end when they arrived, so they
+started for a stroll through the beautiful
+park, which was not often open to the
+public.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Why, there are our fellows!&rdquo; said
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_366" id="Page_366">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>366]</a></span>
+Philip as they suddenly came in sight
+of a group of boys on the edge of the
+magnificent lake.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;What are they up to? They&rsquo;re very
+busy about something!&rdquo; exclaimed Willie.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Let&rsquo;s go and see,&rdquo; Philip said, in
+reply.</p>
+
+<p>As they came nearer they could tell
+that the boys were gesticulating and
+shouting to something in the water.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;It can&rsquo;t be one of them gone in and
+lost his depth,&rdquo; said Willie, anxiously.</p>
+
+<p>No such thing, as they found when
+they got close&mdash;only a dog that the boys
+were amusing themselves by seeing how
+long they could keep under water. The
+creature was making frantic efforts to
+gain a landing-place, but as he approached
+the shore they drove him back
+with sticks and stones.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;We&rsquo;re teaching him to swim,&rdquo; cried
+one as Philip and Willie came up. &ldquo;A
+miserable little mongrel! he can&rsquo;t swim
+a bit!&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Why, don&rsquo;t you see,&rdquo; cried Willie,
+eagerly, &ldquo;that he&rsquo;s as weak as a rat? He
+can scarcely support himself in the water.
+I should think he&rsquo;s been starved.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>At this moment the dog, being turned
+back once more, disappeared, quite close
+to the shore. With a loud cry of pain
+and anger, Willie darted through the
+boys, and wading into the shallow water
+succeeded in enticing the drowning dog
+toward him. He came out, holding the
+dripping creature safely in his arms.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;We must carry it home,&rdquo; he said to
+Philip, after they had vainly endeavored
+to set it upon its feet; and accordingly,
+they started off at a good pace, the poor
+half-drowned animal safely sheltered in
+Willie&rsquo;s arms.</p>
+
+<p>Well might his mother be alarmed to
+see him come home to tea in such a
+plight; but when she heard his explanation,
+she was quite ready to sympathize
+with him, and told him he had done
+bravely and well to rescue the poor
+animal. As he seemed none the worse
+for his wetting, he was allowed to come
+down stairs again as soon as he had put
+on dry things. Very tenderly the little
+half-starved dog was fed with warmed
+milk. He had fallen into good hands.
+Willie&rsquo;s father and mother were kind
+Christian people, who had taught their
+children to be gentle and considerate to
+the meanest of God&rsquo;s creatures.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Why, Willie, he&rsquo;s a fine fellow, and
+only quite a puppy; he will be a splendid
+dog when he is fully grown,&rdquo; his father
+said, when the animal had recovered
+sufficiently to be examined.</p>
+
+<p>And so it proved. Bruno, as Willie
+named him, turned out a splendid creature.
+His devotion to the whole family,
+but especially to Willie, was quite touching
+to see. He would obey the slightest
+gesture of his young master in every
+matter except one. As a child once
+burned dreads the fire, so Bruno, once
+nearly drowned, could never be induced
+to enter the water.</p>
+
+<p>While Bruno was developing into a
+handsome dog, Willie, you may be sure,
+was not standing still. He had grown
+into a fine strong lad, and got beyond
+poor old Dr. Jackson&rsquo;s school.</p>
+
+<p>To the last day of his stay there he
+and Walter Harrison never managed to
+get on very good terms, and a suspected
+unfairness in the matter of obtaining a
+prize made them part with still greater
+coldness.</p>
+
+<p>A year or two after he had left school
+Willie&rsquo;s parents went with their family
+to spend the summer months near the
+sea. Before they had been in their new
+quarters many weeks, much to Willie&rsquo;s
+vexation and disappointment, he found
+that Walter and his parents were also
+staying in the same town, and quite close
+to him.</p>
+
+<p>The two lads frequently met, but they
+could get on no better now than they had
+done in the old days. Walter still looked
+upon Willie as a contemptible little milksop,
+and Willie was inclined to consider
+Walter&rsquo;s exploits more the result of foolhardiness
+than bravery.</p>
+
+<p>One day they met on the beach.
+Walter had come down with a friend
+to take a boat.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Rather rough for rowing,&rdquo; Willie
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_367" id="Page_367">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>367]</a></span>
+called out as he passed, &ldquo;but I suppose
+you&rsquo;re a good oar.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;What&rsquo;s that to you?&rdquo; responded
+Walter, insolently; &ldquo;I suppose you&rsquo;re
+afraid of a little sea.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I don&rsquo;t see the pleasure of going out
+when there&rsquo;s any risk,&rdquo; Willie replied,
+good-humoredly.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;How precious careful you are over
+yourself!&rdquo; replied Walter.</p>
+
+<p>The boat pushed off, and away started
+the two friends. Willie, not caring to
+watch them after the haughty, rude manner
+in which his remark had been received,
+turned away; but before he had
+gone far his attention was attracted by a
+succession of shouts and ejaculations.</p>
+
+<p>The tiny boat had come to grief before
+they had got much more than fifty yards
+from the shore. In the unskilful hands
+of the two lads the little bark was a mere
+plaything in the angry sea. Carried on
+with a swiftness they were unable to
+check, they rushed headlong on to one
+of the hidden rocks with which the coast
+abounded. The boat turned over and
+disappeared, leaving its occupants struggling
+in the water.</p>
+
+<p>There were but few bystanders, and of
+these no one did more than talk and
+gesticulate and ask wildly what was to
+be done.</p>
+
+<p>The same impulse that had prompted
+Willie to rescue a drowning dog now
+caused him to risk his life in order to
+save that of the boy who had always
+shown so unfriendly a disposition toward
+him.</p>
+
+<p>Pulling off his coat, he threw it and
+his hat down on the shore; and giving
+Bruno an injunction to guard them, he
+plunged bravely into the tempestuous
+waves. He could swim well, and succeeded
+with great difficulty in reaching
+the spot where Walter had but a moment
+ago disappeared, and then began the
+terrible struggle for life.</p>
+
+<p>Bruno sat by his master&rsquo;s clothes and
+gazed out over the sea with eyes which
+looked almost human in their intelligent
+anxiety. Presently he grew restless, and
+in another moment the faithful creature
+dashed into the waves, and made resolutely
+for the spot where his master was
+laboriously engaged in trying to convey
+one of the drowning lads to shore.</p>
+
+<p>By the powerful aid of the noble dog
+Walter and Willie were saved; and a boat
+having now put off, Walter&rsquo;s friend was
+picked up after a while. What a cheer
+rent the air when the dog and the two
+lads gained the shore I cannot attempt
+to describe. Willie was never called a
+milksop any more, and Bruno was more
+loved and prized than ever.</p>
+
+<div class="figcenter ipadboth" style="width: 250px;">
+<img src="images/hd147.jpg" width="250" height="132"
+alt="Decoration" />
+</div>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_368" id="Page_368">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>368]</a></span></p>
+
+<h2>CHARLEY.</h2>
+
+
+<p><span class="dropcap">I</span> MADE the acquaintance of my little friend Charley under very unusual
+and startling circumstances. I saw a lad about fifteen years of age clinging
+desperately for very life to the topmast of a sunken ship. I will tell you
+how it happened.</p>
+
+<p>I must go back nearly twenty years. Indeed, I ought to explain that Charley
+was a little friend of mine a long time ago; now he&rsquo;s a grown-up man. Well,
+twenty years ago I was not very old myself, but my sister, who is some years
+older than I am, was already married, and her husband was very fond of yachting.
+They lived during a great part of the year in the Isle of Wight, and
+there I often used to go to stay with them.</p>
+
+<p>The &ldquo;Swallow&rdquo;&mdash;that was the name of my brother-in-law&rsquo;s yacht&mdash;was a
+beautiful boat, and many happy hours have I passed on board her as she
+skimmed merrily over the sparkling water. I delighted to sit on deck, watching
+the fishing-boats as they rode bravely from wave to wave, or sometimes
+wondering at some large ship as it passed by, on which men live for weeks
+and months without ever touching land. We used to sail long distances, and
+occasionally be out for several days and nights together. My brother-in-law&rsquo;s
+skipper could tell me what country almost every vessel that we saw was bound
+for. Some were sailing to climates where the heat is so great that our most
+sultry summer in England is comparatively cold; others were off northward,
+perhaps whale-fishing, where they would see huge icebergs and hear the growling
+of the polar bears.</p>
+
+<p>We were taking our last cruise of the season. It was already near the end
+of October, and the weather was becoming stormy. Passing out of the Solent
+into the Channel, we found the sea much rougher than we expected, and as
+night came on it blew a regular gale. The wind and sea roared, the rain
+poured down in torrents, and the night seemed to me to be the darkest I had
+ever known. But on board the &ldquo;Swallow&rdquo; we had no fear. We trusted to
+the seamanship of our skipper and the goodness of our vessel, and went to
+bed with minds as free from fear as if the sea were smooth and the sky clear.</p>
+
+<p>I awoke just as dawn was breaking, dressed quickly, and throwing a water-proof
+cloak over me popped my head up the companion-ladder to see how
+things looked. The old skipper was on deck; he had not turned in during the
+night. I wished him good-morning, and he remarked, in return, that the wind
+was going down, he thought. Looking at the sea, I observed two or three large
+fragments of wood floating near, and they attracted his notice at the same moment.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Has there been a wreck, captain?&rdquo; I asked, with a feeling of awe.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;That&rsquo;s about what it is, miss,&rdquo; answered the old seaman.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Do you think the people are drowned?&rdquo; I inquired, anxiously.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Well,&rdquo; replied Captain Bounce, casting, as I thought, rather a contemptuous
+glance at me, &ldquo;people don&rsquo;t in general live under water, miss.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_369" id="Page_369">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>369]</a></span></p>
+
+<div class="figcenter ipadtop" style="width: 421px;">
+<img src="images/hd148.jpg" width="421" height="600"
+alt="Charley is reunited with his mother and siblings" />
+</div>
+
+<p class="caption">CHARLEY&rsquo;S WELCOME HOME.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_370" id="Page_370">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>370]</a></span>
+&ldquo;Perhaps they may have had boats,&rdquo; I said, meekly. &ldquo;Do you think
+boats could have reached the shore in such a storm?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Well,&rdquo; answered the old captain, &ldquo;they might have had boats, and they
+mightn&rsquo;t; and the boats, supposing they had &rsquo;em, might have lived through the
+storm, and at the same time they mightn&rsquo;t.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>This was not giving me much information, and I thought to myself that my
+friend the skipper did not seem so much inclined for a chat as usual. I turned
+to look at the sea in search of more pieces of wreck, when I discovered in the
+distance a dark speck rising out of the water. I pointed it out to the skipper
+at once, who took his glass out of his pocket, and after looking through it for
+a moment exclaimed,</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;There&rsquo;s something floating there, and a man clinging to it, as I&rsquo;m alive!&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>As he spoke my brother-in-law came on deck, and also took a look through
+the telescope. Then he, the captain and every sailor on board became eager
+and excited. You would have thought it some dear friend of each whose life
+was to be saved. The yacht was headed in the direction of the object, the
+boat was quickly lowered, the captain himself, with four sailors, jumping into
+it, and in another minute they caught in their arms a poor little exhausted
+and fainting boy as he dropped from the mast of a large sunken ship. We
+could now distinguish the tops of all the three masts appearing above the waves,
+for the sea was not deep, and the ship had settled down in an upright position.</p>
+
+<p>Poor Charley Standish was soon in the cabin of the yacht, and after swallowing
+some champagne he revived sufficiently to tell us his story. The sunken
+ship was the &ldquo;Melbourne,&rdquo; bound for Australia, and this was Charley&rsquo;s first
+voyage as a midshipman on board. During the darkness of the night she had
+been run into by a large homeward-bound merchantman of the same class.
+She sank within an hour of the collision. In the scramble for the boats Charley
+thought he had but little chance for finding a place; and as the ship filled and
+kept sinking deeper in the water, an instinct of self-preservation led him to
+climb into the rigging. Then up he went, higher and higher, even to the topmast;
+and at last, when the vessel went down all at once, he found himself, to
+his inexpressible relief, still above the surface.</p>
+
+<p>What most astonished us all was that a boy so young should have been able
+to hold on for more than an hour to a slippery mast, exposed to the fury of the
+wind, and within reach, even, of the lashing waves. We sailed home at once
+to the Isle of Wight, and wrote to the boy&rsquo;s mother, a widow living in London,
+to tell her of his safety. The boy himself stayed with us two or three days,
+until we bought him new clothes, and then went to his mother. Great was
+her joy when she once more clasped him to her loving heart. My brother-in-law
+took a great fancy to him. He has watched his career, and seen him at
+intervals ever since. Charley Standish is now a chief mate on board a great
+merchantman of the same class as the &ldquo;Melbourne.&rdquo;</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_371" id="Page_371">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>371]</a></span></p>
+
+<h2>THE PARSEES.</h2>
+
+
+<p><span class="dropcap">T</span>HE Parsees are supposed to be descendants
+of the ancient Persians,
+who, after the defeat of their King Yezdezerd,
+the last of the dynasty of Sassan,
+by the followers of Mohammed, fled to
+the mountains of Khorasan. On the death
+of Yezdezerd, they quitted their native
+land, and putting to sea, were permitted
+to settle at Sanjan, a place near the sea-coast,
+between Bombay and Surat, about
+twenty-four miles south of Damaun.</p>
+
+<p>The Parsees are now chiefly settled in
+Bombay, numbering about one hundred
+and fifteen thousand souls, or one fifth of
+the population.</p>
+
+<p>The most enterprising, in a commercial
+point of view, of the various races of Bombay,
+are the Parsees, some of whom are
+even more wealthy than the most successful
+of the European merchants. They
+bear the very highest character for honesty
+and industry, and are intelligent and
+benevolent. The late Sir Jamsetjee Jeejeebhoy
+was a faultless model of a merchant
+prince, in integrity, enterprise, and
+munificence. He founded a hospital that
+bears his name, and made himself conspicuous
+for his active benevolence up to
+the day of his death.</p>
+
+<p>Great numbers of the poorer Parsees
+are clerks in the government offices&mdash;a
+species of service for which they are peculiarly
+fitted, on account of their attention
+to business, industry, and general
+intelligence. Their inclinations are essentially
+pacific; and such a phenomenon as
+a Parsee soldier is almost unknown.</p>
+
+<p>The Parsees are alive to the advantage
+of affording a good education to their
+children; and among the largest seminaries
+in the city of Bombay are those belonging
+to this community. A Parsee
+school is an interesting sight. The children
+are decidedly pretty; and as they
+sit in rows, with glittering, many-colored
+dresses, and caps and jewels, they look
+like a gay parterre of flowers.</p>
+
+<p>On account of their peculiar religious
+belief, the Parsees are known also as
+&ldquo;Fire Worshippers;&rdquo; but however great
+their awe for fire and light, they consider
+them only as emblems of a higher power.
+The Parsees pay reverence to two kinds
+of fire&mdash;the Adaran, lawful for the people
+to behold; and the Behram, which must
+be seen by none but the chief Dustoor,
+or priest, and must be screened from the
+rays of the sun. When required for a
+new temple, a portion of the sacred fire
+is procured in a golden censer from Mount
+Elbourg, near Yezd, where resides the
+chief pontiff, and where the holy flame is
+perpetually maintained. The Behram fire
+is said to have had its origin from the
+natural bituminous fires on the shores of
+the Caspian, and to have never been extinguished.
+It is supposed to be fed with
+sandal and other precious and aromatic
+woods, and is kept burning on a silver
+grating.</p>
+
+<p>The Parsees are the only Eastern nation
+who abstain from smoking. They
+do not eat food cooked by a person of
+another religion, and object to beef and
+pork.</p>
+
+<p>When a Parsee dies, a dog must be
+present, as it is supposed to drive away
+evil spirits, who are on the alert to seize
+upon the dying man&rsquo;s soul. This precaution
+is called the <i>sagdad</i>, or dog-gaze.
+One of the chief reasons for the great
+veneration in which dogs are held by
+Parsees arises from the tradition that in
+their emigration from Persia to India their
+ancestors were, during a dark night, nearly
+driven upon the shores of Guzerat, and
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_372" id="Page_372"><!-- Illustration - PARSEE CHILDREN, BOMBAY --></a></span>
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_373" id="Page_373">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>373]</a></span>
+that they were aroused and first warned
+of their impending danger by the barking
+of the dogs on board their ships.</p>
+
+<div class="figcenter ipadtop" style="width: 600px;">
+<img src="images/hd149.jpg" width="600" height="428"
+alt="A group of six boys and girls" />
+</div>
+
+<p class="caption">PARSEE CHILDREN, BOMBAY.</p>
+
+<p>When a Parsee dies, the body is dressed
+in clean, but old clothes, and conveyed to
+its last resting-place on an iron bier; meat
+and drink are placed at hand for three
+days, as during that time the soul is supposed
+to hover around in the hope of being
+reunited to its late earthly tenement.</p>
+
+<div class="figcenter ipadtop" style="width: 230px;">
+<img src="images/hd150.jpg" width="230" height="400"
+alt="A Parsee man wearing one of the distinctive tall hats" />
+</div>
+
+<p class="caption">A PARSEE.</p>
+
+<p>The Parsee sepulchres are of so peculiar
+a character as to merit particular
+notice. Should any of my readers ever
+go to Bombay, he will find two of these
+<i>dakhmas</i>, or Temples of Silence, in a
+secluded part of Malabar Hill, though
+admittance is denied within the walls enclosing
+the melancholy structures to aught
+but Parsees. The interior is fitted up
+with stages or stories of stone pavement,
+slanting down to a circular opening, like
+a well, covered with a grating, into which
+the bones are swept, after the fowls of the
+air, the dew, and the sun have deprived
+them of every particle of flesh.</p>
+
+<p>The Parsees assign as their reason for
+not burying their dead, that, having received
+many benefits from the earth during
+their lifetime, they consider it defiled by
+placing dead bodies in it. Similarly, they
+do not adopt the Hindoo custom of burning
+their dead, as another element, fire,
+would be rendered impure.</p>
+
+<p>The chief distinctive feature of the
+Parsee dress is the hat, to which the community
+cling with a pertinacity that would
+be extraordinary, were it not common.
+Even the Parsee representative of &ldquo;Young
+Bombay,&rdquo; dressed from top to toe in European
+costume, including a pair of shiny
+boots, cannot be induced to discard the
+abominable <i>topee</i>, or hat, distinctive of his
+race; though, perhaps, after all, we who
+live in glass houses should not throw
+stones; for what can be more hideous
+than the chimney-pot hat of our boasted
+civilization? The Parsee head-dress,
+which contests the palm of ugliness with
+its English rival, is constructed on a
+strong but light framework, covered with
+highly-glazed, dark-colored chintz. The
+priests, who dress like the laity, wear a
+hat of much the same shape as the former,
+but white, instead of a dark color.</p>
+
+<p>On occasions of ceremony, the ordinary
+tight-fitting narrow garment is exchanged
+for one with very full skirts, like a petticoat;
+and a shawl is usually worn round
+the waist, which is at other times omitted.
+The costume of the women is a combination
+of that of the Hindoos and Mussulmans,
+consisting of the short body and
+<i>sarree</i> of the former, with the full trousers
+of the latter. Both sexes endue themselves,
+at seven years of age, with the
+sacred shirt, which is worn over the
+trousers; the <i>sadra</i>, as it is called, is
+made of a thin, transparent muslin, and
+is meant to represent the coat-of-mail the
+men wore when they arrived in India,
+and with which they believe they can resist
+the spiritual assaults of Ahriman, the
+evil principle. The hair of the women is
+concealed by linen skull-caps, fitting tight
+to the head.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_374" id="Page_374">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>374]</a></span>
+It is a singular and interesting sight to
+watch the Parsees assembled on the sea-shore,
+and, as the sun sinks below the
+horizon, to mark them prostrating themselves,
+and offering up their orisons to
+the great giver of light and heat, which
+they regard as representing the Deity.
+Their prayers are uttered, it is said, in an
+unknown tongue; and after the fiery face
+of the orb of day has disappeared in his
+ocean bed, and the wondrous pillars of
+light shooting aslant the sky, proclaim
+that the &ldquo;day is done,&rdquo; and the night is
+at hand, they raise themselves from their
+knees, and turn silently away from the
+beach, which is left once more to twilight
+and the murmur, or, if in angry mood, the
+roar, of the sea as it breaks on the shore.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+
+<div class="figcenter ipadboth" style="width: 312px;">
+<a name="Page_374lower" id="Page_374lower"></a>
+<img src="images/hd151.jpg" width="312" height="400"
+alt="The unknown man rescues the girl from the burning building" />
+</div>
+
+<h2>THE CRIPPLED BOY.</h2>
+
+<p class="center">FROM THE FRENCH.</p>
+
+
+<p><span class="dropcap">D</span>ON&rsquo;T cry any more, Genevieve;
+you must get married again,&rdquo; said
+a man in the working dress of a slater,
+just returning from his day&rsquo;s work, to a
+poor woman who was sitting at the foot
+of a camp bed, weeping, and rocking her
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_375" id="Page_375">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>375]</a></span>
+baby at the same time. &ldquo;Your husband
+is dead; he fell from a ladder, and it
+killed him. It is a great misfortune for
+you and your family; but crying won&rsquo;t
+help you.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Saying these words in a rough voice,
+to hide the emotion caused by the poor
+woman&rsquo;s despair, the workman brushed
+away a tear with his coat sleeve.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;My poor George!&rdquo; said the woman.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;If your son was only good for anything,&rdquo;
+added the workman, rudely, throwing
+a glance of disdain upon a poor, pale,
+weak, and crippled boy, who was seated
+on the floor in a corner of the room; &ldquo;if
+that child would ever grow into a man, I
+would take him with me, and teach him
+how to clamber over roofs, and to keep
+his balance upon the beams, and drop
+from the end of a rope. But no, he grows
+worse and worse every day; and now he
+can hardly bear his own weight. He is
+almost twelve years old, that son of yours;
+and if they said he was four, it would be
+a compliment.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Is it the fault of Jacques that he came
+crooked into the world, my brother?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;No, certainly not. I don&rsquo;t blame him,
+poor child, I don&rsquo;t blame him; but he will
+always be a useless mouth in the world.
+Luckily, he will not live long,&rdquo; he whispered
+in the ear of his sister. Then he
+rose, and went out, calling, &ldquo;Good by
+till to-morrow,&rdquo; in a tone of voice which
+betrayed the anxiety he felt at the situation
+of his sister and her children.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;<em>Luckily</em> I shall not live long,&rdquo; was
+repeated by a sweet, sad voice, in an accent
+which only belongs to those who have
+suffered deeply.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;What are you saying, Jacques?&rdquo; inquired
+Genevieve.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;That I am good for nothing. My
+uncle was right.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Take courage, my son. When you
+are older, you will grow stronger.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Yes, if&mdash;&rdquo; said the boy.</p>
+
+<p>But he left the sentence unfinished, and
+his mother was too much absorbed in her
+grief to ask him what he meant. It was
+late, and in a few minutes the poor family
+retired. It was hardly light when Jacques
+went down into the court-yard to see the
+grooms curry the horses, wash the carriages,
+and get ready for the day.</p>
+
+<p>It was summer, and very soon a pretty
+little girl came down into the court.
+Jacques uttered a loud cry when he saw
+her.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Without crutches, Mademoiselle Emilie!&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;So you see, Jacques,&rdquo; replied the
+young girl, with a sweet smile. &ldquo;I shall
+not use them any more. To be sure, I
+am a little weak here,&rdquo; she added, showing
+her left arm and foot, which were
+smaller than the right; &ldquo;and besides,&rdquo;
+she said, &ldquo;I am a little crooked.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;And mademoiselle believes that she
+is entirely cured?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Certainly, Jacques. Only think, I
+was worse than you are! Stop, Jacques!
+I do really believe that <em>you</em> would be cured
+if you would go with me, and take lessons
+in gymnastics at the house of Colonel
+Amoros.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I am too poor to do that, mademoiselle.
+Somebody told my mother that
+these academies of gymnas&mdash;gym&mdash;I
+don&rsquo;t know what&mdash;are very expensive;
+and besides that, what good would they
+do me? for my uncle says I shall not live
+long.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Perhaps your uncle does not know any
+better than our doctor. But really, Jacques,
+have you not seen sometimes old people
+crooked and deformed? They have lived
+long, perhaps, those same old people.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;But it is not at all likely that they
+were obliged to earn their living, mademoiselle.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<div class="figcenter ipadtop" style="width: 438px;">
+<img src="images/hd152.jpg" width="438" height="600"
+alt="Jacques, with his crutches, sits on a bench under a tree" />
+</div>
+
+<p class="caption">THE LITTLE CRIPPLE BOY.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Poor Jacques!&rdquo; exclaimed Emilie, in
+a tone of compassion. &ldquo;You listen to
+me. When I am married, and have lots
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_376" id="Page_376"><!-- Illustration - THE LITTLE CRIPPLE BOY --></a></span>
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_377" id="Page_377">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>377]</a></span>
+of money, I promise you that it will give
+me pleasure to make any sacrifice to pay
+for your being cured.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Ah, I shall be too old then, or dead&mdash;who
+knows?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;What can be done?&rdquo; she exclaimed,
+tapping the toe of her boot on the ground
+with an air of vexation.</p>
+
+<p>Then seeing an elderly lady come into
+the court, she ran to meet her, exclaiming,&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;My dear friend, allow Jacques to go
+with us to the Amoros gymnasium. You
+gave me one ticket. Say, will you give
+me two?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;It is impossible, mademoiselle. I cannot
+give away your tickets without leave
+from your father.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Leave from my father, who is not
+here!&rdquo; cried Emilie. &ldquo;He is in Martinique.
+Before we could get an answer&mdash;O,
+dear! O, dear!&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Do not distress yourself so, my child,&rdquo;
+said the governess. &ldquo;I have heard that
+they receive free pupils in the gymnasium
+conducted by M. Amoros. For many
+years they have taken those unfortunate
+children who are unable to pay the price
+of subscription. It is very generous and
+kind in Colonel Amoros, for it must be
+very expensive to support an establishment
+of this kind in the city.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;It is very good in the colonel; but
+then I want to pay for Jacques, because
+if every one went without paying, the
+school would soon come to an end.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;But what money have you to pay
+with?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Ah, you shall see, my kind friend.&mdash;Jacques,&rdquo;
+she added, turning to the poor
+boy, whose pale and suffering face expressed
+all the interest he took in this
+conversation,&mdash;&ldquo;Jacques, you must come
+with me to the gymnasium.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Never, for I cannot walk so far as
+that, mademoiselle,&rdquo; said Jacques, sadly.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;But you must ride in my carriage.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Just think of that, mademoiselle!
+No, I am too poorly clothed,&rdquo; said the
+poor son of the slater, glancing at his
+worn-out vest and at his green trousers
+patched with gray.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Haven&rsquo;t you any Sunday clothes?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Yes, mademoiselle, but they are very
+little better.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;They must be cleaner, certainly. Go
+and put them on. Hurry!&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Jacques obeyed. A few moments later,
+he came down, looking a little better
+dressed; but it was owing to the careful
+hands of a good workwoman, and not to
+the quality of the cloth which made his
+garments.</p>
+
+<p>Emilie was obliged to use all her authority
+before the servants would allow
+the little peasant to enter the coach. At
+last she placed him on the seat before
+her, and he was much more astonished
+than delighted at finding himself run away
+with by a pair of frisky young horses.</p>
+
+<p>In a street named Jean-Goujon you can
+see a large white building, of a very elegant
+style of architecture. On the front
+of it was printed, in large letters, the
+words <span class="smcap">Gymnase Civil Orthosomatique</span>,
+and other inscriptions to explain the
+object of the edifice.</p>
+
+<p>In 1815 Colonel Amoros made the first
+effort to introduce gymnastics into France.
+Messrs. Jomard and Julien not only seconded
+him fully, but insisted on the importance
+of these exercises, not alone for
+physical development, but for moral and
+intellectual strength.</p>
+
+<p>Colonel Amoros was of Spanish origin,
+and became distinguished in the Spanish
+army. He formed two companies of
+Zouaves, and achieved the most daring
+exploits with them in Europe and Africa.
+Then he became private secretary to King
+Charles IV. He formed a large gymnasium
+in Madrid, which was destroyed in
+the war of 1808. But in devoting, his
+life to the physical training of children in
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_378" id="Page_378">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>378]</a></span>
+Paris, Colonel Amoros performed the
+greatest service to humanity. Though
+societies decorated him with medals, and
+France gave him funds for his military
+gymnasium, he will find in grateful hearts
+his best reward.</p>
+
+<p>But let us return to little Emilie, when
+the coach stopped at the gymnasium.</p>
+
+<p>The exercises had not begun. The
+professors, who were all young and active
+men, wore the same dress&mdash;a white vest
+and trousers, with a tri-colored belt, and
+a little blue cap on the head. They only
+waited for a signal to begin, as they stood
+in groups in the centre of the court. Very
+soon a middle-aged gentleman appeared
+among them. Though he was no longer
+young, he was still strong and active, and
+seemed to have a powerful constitution.
+He wore a blue coat, and a decoration at
+his button-hole, which was given as a
+token of bravery. He wore a cap upon
+his head.</p>
+
+<p>He came forward to speak to Emilie,
+and his eye fell upon poor Jacques, who
+was overcome with emotion at seeing a
+school where children who had been lame
+from weakness found the use of their
+limbs on recovering their health.</p>
+
+<p>Before the colonel had time to ask who
+this boy was,&mdash;for he knew Jacques was
+not one of his scholars,&mdash;Emilie seized
+his hand, and with the coaxing voice that
+children know how to use so well when
+they want to ask a favor, she said,&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I can walk without crutches now,
+colonel.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I am rejoiced to hear it, my child.
+You ought to be able to do so.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;And I have grown almost an inch in
+six months. O, I am so much obliged to
+you, colonel!&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;You mean to my gymnasium, my dear
+child.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;No, to you, colonel, to you. For really
+I was much worse than Jacques is,
+and to-day I am better than he is.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Who is Jacques?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;This boy that you see here,&rdquo; said
+Emilie, taking the hand of Jacques, who
+was hiding behind her, and making him
+come forward before the colonel. &ldquo;He is
+the son of a slater. His father is dead.
+He fell from a roof. Poor man! His
+mother is very miserable, for she has
+another child to take care of; so you see
+yourself, colonel, it is quite necessary that
+he should be able to stand alone.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>All the time that M. Amoros was examining
+Jacques, rolling up the sleeves
+of his jacket to see his arms, turning up
+his trousers to look at his legs, feeling
+his spine, and making him stretch out his
+limbs, Emilie continued, with a coaxing
+voice,&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;If you are willing, Colonel Amoros,
+we can make an arrangement. O, you
+must not refuse me, I beg of you!&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;What?&rdquo; said the kind man, continuing
+his examination.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;This boy is very poor&mdash;very, very
+poor. If he is not cured, he will never
+be able to get his living. He has a
+mother and sister to support; and see,
+colonel, I am very sure my poor Jacques
+will die soon.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Will you hold your tongue, you little
+simpleton?&rdquo; said the colonel, suddenly
+turning round at the word &ldquo;die.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;He will die soon if you don&rsquo;t take
+pity on him, dear Colonel Amoros,&rdquo; added
+the little girl, clasping her small hands
+eagerly before the colonel, who was too
+much engaged in examining poor Jacques,
+and considering the best way to cure him,
+to pay much attention to Emilie&rsquo;s words.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Please let Jacques take part in the
+exercises, and I will pay you out of my
+savings; or if you are willing to wait, I
+will pay it when I am married. And besides
+that, I will write to my father, and
+tell him to let me come and take lessons
+here after I am entirely cured.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>The colonel could not restrain his
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_379" id="Page_379">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>379]</a></span>
+mirth at the idea of Emilie wishing to
+pay him for a kind action, which his generous
+heart prompted him to do without
+any persuasion.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;It does not require so much eloquence
+to urge me to do a kindness, my little
+friend,&rdquo; he replied. &ldquo;Do you think I
+don&rsquo;t enjoy my practice? I will receive
+your prot&eacute;g&eacute; with pleasure, if he will
+promise to obey my orders, and if he will
+resemble his protectress in the love of
+doing good.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>While speaking these words, the colonel
+called one of the teachers, and pointing
+to Jacques,&mdash;who did not know
+whether he was dreaming or not,&mdash;he
+said,&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Take this boy, give him a belt, and a
+knot of scarlet ribbon on the left shoulder;
+that is the side which needs strengthening.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Then he explained which exercises he
+should take, and those he ought to avoid.</p>
+
+<p>He then gave a signal for the bell to
+ring, and the professors and children were
+soon busy in the centre of the gymnasium.</p>
+
+<p>It was a pretty sight, I can assure you.
+Such a wonderful combination of poles,
+ropes, posts, and ladders! You might
+wonder, at first, what they all meant.
+But soon every child came along in his
+turn, without effort, and with such perfect
+enjoyment, that it explained the mystery.</p>
+
+<p>Gymnastic exercises were practised
+with great care by the ancients. They
+formed part of the education of a gentleman.
+They give that physical beauty
+and grace which only spring from a
+fine muscular development. Among the
+Greeks and Romans, men frequented the
+gymnasium and the circus. Philosophers,
+judges, and soldiers took part in these
+exercises with the citizens, that they
+might become stronger and more athletic,
+more active and capable of bearing fatigue.</p>
+
+<p>M. Amoros not only gave health and
+strength to the pupils of his gymnasium,
+but he taught them to call only those deeds
+<em>great</em> which were inspired by bravery,
+love of humanity, and pure benevolence.</p>
+
+<p>Two years had passed away; spring
+had arrived at the old chateau on the
+Loire, and M. Martel, the father of little
+Emilie, had returned from his voyage to
+Martinique. He was busy in making
+many necessary repairs in his family mansion,
+and many workmen came from Paris
+for that purpose. The night after their
+arrival, the chateau was discovered to be
+on fire. M. Martel awoke in haste;
+startled by the light of the flames, which
+suddenly illuminated his room, he ran to
+see where the fire sprang from, and called
+aloud for his daughter, whom he could
+not see anywhere. The spectacle that
+met his view quite overwhelmed him.
+The story that was on fire was the place
+where his daughter slept. It could be
+reached only from a neighboring roof,
+that was almost consumed. A single
+beam connected one building with the
+other. Notwithstanding his age and the
+gout, which paralyzed one of his limbs,
+the poor father wished to climb up and
+save his daughter, or to die with her.
+They held him back; he uttered fearful
+shrieks, when a young man, little more
+than a boy, was seen on the beam, which
+tottered with his weight. He walked
+along without fear. A profound silence
+succeeded to the cries of terror. The
+souls of the spectators seemed to look
+out of their eyes. M. Martel fell upon
+his knees.</p>
+
+<p>The intrepid youth reached the window,
+and scaled it. They saw him unroll a
+long rope, or rope-ladder, and fasten it
+securely to the iron balcony which ornamented
+the window; then he disappeared.</p>
+
+<p>Not a sound betrayed the anxiety of
+the spectators. The unknown man returned;
+he held a young person supported
+upon his back. He mounted the iron
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_380" id="Page_380">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>380]</a></span>
+balcony, and suspended himself with his
+precious burden upon it, for she was well
+secured by a strong belt. This horrible
+suspense was more than M. Martel could
+bear. He covered his face with his hands.
+But soon the universal shouts of joy told
+him that his daughter was safe.</p>
+
+<p>After the first moments of delight, the
+young girl turned to her deliverer. An
+exclamation of surprise fell from their
+lips.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Jacques!&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Mademoiselle Emilie!&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Then they gazed at each other in silence
+by the red light of the fire.</p>
+
+<p>They were no longer two pale, sad children,
+with haggard little faces, already
+prematurely old. They had been separated
+ever since Emilie had left the gymnasium,
+and, not living in the same place,
+they hardly recognized each other. Emilie
+was a tall and beautiful girl, enjoying all
+the delight of perfect health. Jacques
+almost had become a man.</p>
+
+<p>M. Martel had not heard without emotion
+about his daughter&rsquo;s generous act,
+and her efforts to have Jacques received
+as a pupil in the Amoros gymnasium.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Am I not well rewarded?&rdquo; she exclaimed,
+extending her hand to the young
+man. &ldquo;You would not have had any
+daughter without him, papa. The horror
+of my position, the impossibility of my
+finding a rope, a ladder, or any way of
+escape, frightened me so, that I lost my
+senses, and I should have been burned
+alive, if it had not been for Jacques.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Ah, mademoiselle,&rdquo; said the slater&rsquo;s
+son, with emotion, &ldquo;it is not life alone
+that I owe to you; is it not more than
+life? It is health, the use of my limbs,
+and the happiness of being able to support
+my mother. Yes, mademoiselle,&rdquo;
+added Jacques, with fervor, &ldquo;I am a
+workman, and thanks to the lessons of
+our excellent professor, Colonel Amoros,
+I am more skilful than any of my fellow-laborers.
+I can support my family, and
+my wages are higher, because I can work
+harder and work longer than the rest.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Brave boy!&rdquo; exclaimed M. Martel,
+pressing Jacques in his arms, who was
+quite overcome at the meeting. &ldquo;From
+this day forward you shall be my son. I
+will take charge of your education and
+your advancement, of your mother and
+your sister. Brave boy! My daughter
+has done much for you, but you deserve
+it; she understood your heart.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>M. Martel kept his word. And some
+days after, when Jacques and his uncle
+met in the small attic of the poor widow,
+and were rejoicing over the happy change
+in their fortunes, the poor mother clasped
+her boy&rsquo;s head to her heart, and bathed
+his curls with tears, and covered them
+with kisses, exclaiming,&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Now you see, brother, Jacques was
+not a useless creature. It is owing to
+him that our fortune is made.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Yes, thanks to Colonel Amoros,&rdquo; said
+the workman.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Thanks to Mademoiselle Emilie,&rdquo; said
+Jacques, heaving a sigh.</p>
+
+<p class="sig smcap">S. W. Lander.</p>
+
+<div class="figcenter ipadboth" style="width: 200px;">
+<img src="images/hd035.jpg" width="200" height="124"
+alt="Decoration" />
+</div>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_381" id="Page_381">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>381]</a></span></p>
+
+<div class="figcenter ipadboth" style="width: 600px;">
+<img src="images/hd153.jpg" width="600" height="350"
+alt="The girl kisses her father on the forehead" />
+</div>
+
+<h2>A DINNER AND A KISS.</h2>
+
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p class="cap">I HAVE brought your dinner, father,&rdquo;<br />
+<span class="i2">The blacksmith&rsquo;s daughter said,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">As she took from her arm the kettle,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And lifted its shining lid.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">&ldquo;There is not any pie or pudding;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">So I will give you this;&rdquo;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And upon his toil-worn forehead<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">She left the childish kiss.<br /></span></p>
+</div>
+
+<div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">The blacksmith took off his apron,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And dined in happy mood,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Wondering much at the savor<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Hid in his humble food,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">While all about him were visions<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Full of prophetic bliss;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But he never thought of the magic<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">In his little daughter&rsquo;s kiss.<br /></span>
+</div>
+
+<div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">While she, with her kettle swinging,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Merrily trudged away,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Stopping at sight of a squirrel,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Catching some wild bird&rsquo;s lay,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">O, I thought, how many a shadow<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Of life and fate we would miss,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">If always our frugal dinners<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Were seasoned with a kiss!<br /></span>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_382" id="Page_382">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>382]</a></span></p>
+
+<h2>MY MOTHER.</h2>
+
+<p class="center">&ldquo;Honor thy father and thy mother.&rdquo;</p>
+
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p class="cap">FATHER and mother! sacred names and dear;<br />
+<span class="i3">The sweetest music to the infant ear,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And dearer still to those, a joyous band,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Who sport in childhood&rsquo;s bright enchanted land.<br /></span></p>
+</div>
+
+<div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">And when, as years roll on, night follows day,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The young wax old and loved ones pass away,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Through mists of time yet holier and more dear,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">&ldquo;Father and mother&rdquo; sound to memory&rsquo;s ear.<br /></span>
+</div>
+
+<div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">The days, the hours, the moments as they speed,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Each crowned by loving thought or word or deed,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Oh, heart&rsquo;s long-suffering, self-denying! sure<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Earth holds no love more true, and none so pure.<br /></span>
+</div>
+
+<div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Thou happy child whom a good God hath given<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">A parents&rsquo; shelt&rsquo;ring home, that earthly heaven,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Where ceaseless care, where tireless love and true,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Nurse thy young life as flowers are nursed by dew.<br /></span>
+</div>
+
+<div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">E&rsquo;en as the flowers, for the dear debt they owe,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Bloom, and sweet odors in rich meed bestow,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Let the fair blossoms of thy love and duty<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Cluster about thy home in fragrant beauty.<br /></span>
+</div>
+
+<div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Never from eye or lip be seen or heard<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The sullen glance or the rebellious word,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And never wilfully or heedless pain<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The tender hearts that cannot wound again.<br /></span>
+</div>
+
+<div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">But fond caress, sweet smile and loving tone,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Obedience prompt and glad, be thine alone,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">For filial love, like mercy, is twice blest;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">While to the parent of earth&rsquo;s joys the best,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Richer than treasures of the land or sea,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">It wins God&rsquo;s blessing, O my child, for thee!<br /></span>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_383" id="Page_383">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>383]</a></span></p>
+
+<div class="figcenter ipadtop" style="width: 406px;">
+<img src="images/hd154.jpg" width="406" height="600"
+alt="The mother shows the Book of Proverbs to her child" />
+</div>
+
+<p class="caption">MY MOTHER.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_384" id="Page_384">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>384]</a></span></p>
+
+<h2>REGINALD&rsquo;S FIRST SCHOOL-DAYS.</h2>
+
+
+<p><span class="dropcap">O</span>NE frosty morning in January two delicate-looking children were sitting before
+a blazing fire in a long, low nursery with oak rafters running across the ceiling.
+Between them lay a great shaggy dog.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;You will take good care of Rover whilst I am away?&rdquo; said the boy, winding
+his fingers in Rover&rsquo;s shaggy hair and leaning his head against him.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Yes; he shall go for a walk with me every day, and in the twilight I will talk to
+him about you,&rdquo; answered Alice. &ldquo;You might send messages to him in your letters,&rdquo;
+she added.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Would you understand them, old fellow?&rdquo; asked Reginald, lifting up the dog&rsquo;s
+head and looking into his eyes.</p>
+
+<p>The dog wistfully returned his master&rsquo;s gaze and gave him his paw.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I believe he understands,&rdquo; said Reginald, throwing his arms round the dog&rsquo;s
+neck. &ldquo;Oh, Rover, Rover, if I could only take you with me!&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;It would not be so bad then,&rdquo; sighed Alice.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;It won&rsquo;t be really bad when I get accustomed to it. Just at first it may be strange,
+but I shall be sure to like one, at any rate, out of the forty boys. It is going out
+into the world, and my father says it is well for a boy to learn his level early. On
+the whole, I am glad I am going; it is only the first bit of it that one is not sure
+about.&rdquo;</p>
+
+
+<p class="smlpadt">It was a large room, with desks and benches on either side, and an aisle, as Reginald
+called it, up the middle. It had four large windows looking out on the playground,
+and a fireplace at each end, round which some dozen or two of boys were
+clustered.</p>
+
+<p>Reginald advanced toward the fireplace at the lower end of the room, hoping that
+some one might speak to him and rid him of the strange, uncomfortable feeling that
+crept over him; but none of the boys spoke, though they regarded him critically, as
+if measuring the sort of being he was before committing themselves to any closer
+acquaintance.</p>
+
+<p>So he sat down on a bench halfway down the school-room, tried to look unconscious,
+and half wished himself at home again.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Have any of you fellows got a knife? I want to cut this piece of string,&rdquo; said a
+tall boy, addressing the group generally.</p>
+
+<p>In a moment Reginald had taken out his new knife and offered it to the speaker.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Ah!&rdquo; said Thompson, the tall boy; &ldquo;a capital knife. Much obliged; will borrow
+it for the present;&rdquo; and after using it he quietly put it into his pocket.</p>
+
+<p>Some of the boys laughed. One of them, however, murmured, in an undertone,
+&ldquo;What a great shame!&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Reginald&rsquo;s color rose. He walked straight up to Thompson:</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Will you please to give me my knife again?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Thompson looked surprised:</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;No; I shall please to do nothing of the kind. You offered it, and I accepted it.
+An offer&rsquo;s an offer.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I lent it to you to cut the string.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;You did not say so.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I do not think it just of you to take my knife in that way,&rdquo; said Reginald, thoroughly
+aroused; &ldquo;and if you do not return it at once, I shall speak to Dr. Field
+about it.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Oh!&rdquo; said Thompson, coolly; &ldquo;you&rsquo;re a sneak, are you?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_385" id="Page_385">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>385]</a></span></p>
+
+<div class="figcenter ipadtop" style="width: 406px;">
+<img src="images/hd155.jpg" width="406" height="600"
+alt="Reginald working on his slate by the light of a candle" />
+</div>
+
+<p class="caption">INDUSTRIOUS REGINALD.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_386" id="Page_386">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>386]</a></span>
+The boys, who had been gathering round Reginald, admiring his spirit in confronting
+the tall boy, now drew back, and the words &ldquo;tell-tale!&rdquo; &ldquo;blab!&rdquo; &ldquo;sneak!&rdquo;
+were distinctly heard. And Reginald found himself standing alone, deserted by
+those who had drawn near in sympathy with him, for Thompson was the tyrant of
+the school.</p>
+
+<p>Presently, when the boys had returned to their places by the fire, and Reginald
+was apparently forgotten, a merry-looking boy a year older than himself sat down
+by him.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;No,&rdquo; said he; &ldquo;you must not say anything to Dr. Field. You must let your
+knife go, and learn wisdom for the future.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Reginald looked up.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;It&rsquo;s mean and unfair,&rdquo; he said.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;That may be, but the boys would say it was meaner still to complain. One has
+to put up with things of this sort at school, and make the best of them.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;What&rsquo;s your name?&rdquo; asked Reginald, suddenly, for there was something about
+the boy that he liked, and he thought this might be the one who was to be his
+friend.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Barton. And yours?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Reginald Murray.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Murray&rsquo;s enough, without the other.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I should like you to be my friend.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Barton glanced at the large dark eyes that were fixed upon him, and at the delicate
+and somewhat mournful face, and felt attracted also.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I think I shall like you,&rdquo; he returned; &ldquo;but I must wait and see how you go on.
+I think you&rsquo;ve the right spirit; but you must take my advice about the knife. Will
+you?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>There was a struggle in Reginald&rsquo;s mind. It was very hard to give up the knife
+that Alice had saved up her pocket-money to buy for him. Still, Barton had been
+at school for some time, and knew better than he what ought to be done, so he answered,
+&ldquo;I will.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>But Barton was not prepared for his manner of carrying out the decision. To his
+great surprise, Reginald marched straight up to Thompson. &ldquo;I shall not,&rdquo; he said,
+&ldquo;speak to Dr. Field about the knife. It&rsquo;s unfair and unjust of you to take it, and I
+sha&rsquo;n&rsquo;t be friends with you as long as you keep it. But Barton says it would be telling
+tales if I made a complaint.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Some of the younger boys stood quite aghast at Reginald&rsquo;s boldness; one or two
+even murmured, &ldquo;Well done!&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Thompson stared, half in astonishment, half in anger. &ldquo;You&rsquo;re too fast, young
+sir; you&rsquo;ll have to be put down, I see,&rdquo; said he. But he did not give Reginald his
+knife again.</p>
+
+<p>School was indeed a new world to Reginald. He made friends and found enemies;
+he worked hard&mdash;indeed, often sat up by candle-light to prepare examples for
+the next day. He played well, and on the whole was tolerably popular. Thompson,
+however, still kept the knife, using it upon all occasions, which caused a thrill of indignation
+to go through Reginald&rsquo;s delicate frame.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;If I can&rsquo;t get it one way, I will another,&rdquo; thought he; and he brooded over the
+knife until he magnified every word that Thompson said into a series of insults to
+himself, and Thompson, pleased with the power he possessed over the boy, exercised
+it on all occasions.</p>
+
+<p>So the spring went by, and the summer came, and the days slipped away, and the
+holidays were close at hand.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_387" id="Page_387">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>387]</a></span>
+&ldquo;If I were strong enough, I would fight him for it,&rdquo; said Reginald to Barton, one
+day, when Thompson had been more than usually aggravating.</p>
+
+<p>The remark was repeated to Thompson, who was standing by the side of the river
+that ran at the foot of the playground.</p>
+
+<p>At that moment Reginald drew near.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;So you would like to fight me if you were big enough?&rdquo; said he, with a sneer.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I should!&rdquo; answered Reginald, warmly.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Ah! it&rsquo;s a bad state of feeling. If the knife causes such wicked thoughts, the best
+way is to get rid of it. So here it goes, and there is an end of it!&rdquo; And drawing
+the knife from his pocket, he flung it into the river. It fell short of where he intended,
+and Reginald saw his beloved knife through the clear river, lying within
+what he supposed to be an easy reach. Without a moment&rsquo;s thought he jumped
+in after it, regardless of the cry that rose, &ldquo;The water&rsquo;s deeper than it looks!&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>His hand had, as if by instinct, grasped the knife, but as he tried to struggle back
+through the swiftly-running water he got confused, for, as the boys had called out to
+him, it was a great deal deeper than it looked, and just there the ground shelved
+suddenly, and Reginald, taking a false step, lost his footing.</p>
+
+<p>There was a general outcry, which brought Dr. Field and a visitor who had just
+arrived to the spot:</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Murray&rsquo;s in the river!&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>And they pointed to the spot where the poor boy had sunk.</p>
+
+<p>With such a cry as the boys long remembered, the visitor had plunged into the
+water, and had caught the boy, who had risen for the last time, by the arm.</p>
+
+<p>And the next thing that the boys knew was that a white, dripping form was carried
+through the playground into the house.</p>
+
+<p>Then a whisper went round, &ldquo;It was his father.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Then a whispered question, &ldquo;Is he dead?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>And Thompson shuddered as he heard it.</p>
+
+<p>But Reginald did not die; he opened his eyes to find his father clasping his hand.
+At first he could remember nothing, then he looked round anxiously: &ldquo;Is the knife
+safe? I went to pick up my knife.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Then he closed his eyes and remained for a long time silent; and when he spoke
+again, it was in the wild ravings of delirium.</p>
+
+<p>The shock had been too much for the delicate boy. Fever came on, and it was
+weeks before he could be moved home. And then he was ordered to the South,
+and Italy was the chosen place in which Mr. and Mrs. Murray and their two children
+should sojourn until Reginald should have completely recovered his health.</p>
+
+<p>And this time Rover was to go with his young master.</p>
+
+<p>The day before Reginald left home a carriage drove up to the door, and Thompson
+stepped out of it.</p>
+
+<p>He and Reginald were alone for a quarter of an hour, and they parted friends.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I have my knife now, Thompson,&rdquo; said Reginald, &ldquo;and so the quarrel is over.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>And Thompson returned to Dr. Field&rsquo;s a better and a wiser boy. He never
+bullied any one again.</p>
+
+<div class="figcenter ipadboth" style="width: 250px;">
+<img src="images/hd156.png" width="250" height="85"
+alt="Decoration" />
+</div>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_388" id="Page_388">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>388]</a></span></p>
+
+<div class="figcenter ipadboth" style="width: 500px;">
+<img src="images/hd157.jpg" width="500" height="186"
+alt="Three kittens, two wrestling and one clasping a ball in its front paws" />
+</div>
+
+<h2>CLEOPATRA.</h2>
+
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p class="cap">WE&rsquo;VE called our young puss Cleopatra;<br />
+<span class="i4">&rsquo;Twas grandpa who named her like that.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">He says it means &ldquo;fond of good living&rdquo;&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">A queer enough name for a cat!<br /></span></p>
+</div>
+
+<div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">She leads the most lovely existence,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And one which appears to enchant;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Asleep in the sun like a snow-flake<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">That tries to get melted and can&rsquo;t;<br /></span>
+</div>
+
+<div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Or now and then languidly strolling<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Through plots of the garden, to steal<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">On innocent grasshoppers, crunching<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Her cruel and murderous meal!<br /></span>
+</div>
+
+<div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Or lapping from out of her saucer&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">The dainty and delicate elf!&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">With appetite spoiled in the garden,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">New milk that&rsquo;s as white as herself.<br /></span>
+</div>
+
+<div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Dear, dear! could we only change places,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">This do-nothing pussy and I,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">You&rsquo;d think it hard work, Cleopatra,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">To live, as the moments went by.<br /></span>
+</div>
+
+<div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Ah! how would you relish, I wonder,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">To sit in a school-room for hours?<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">You&rsquo;d find it less pleasant, I fancy,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Than murdering bugs in the flowers.<br /></span>
+</div>
+
+<p class="poet smcap">Edgar Fawcett.</p>
+</div>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_389" id="Page_389">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>389]</a></span></p>
+
+<h2>DECLAMATION.</h2>
+
+<p class="center">SHAKSPEARE.</p>
+
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p class="cap">SHE sat in her eternal house,<br />
+<span class="i3">The sovereign mother of mankind;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Before her was the peopled world,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">The hollow night behind.<br /></span></p>
+</div>
+
+<div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">&ldquo;Below my feet the thunders break,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Above my head the stars rejoice;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But man, although he babbles much,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Has never found a voice.<br /></span>
+</div>
+
+<div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">&ldquo;Ten thousand years have come and gone,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And not an hour of any day<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But he has dumbly looked to me<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">The things he could not say.<br /></span>
+</div>
+
+<div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">&ldquo;It shall be so no more,&rdquo; she said;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And then, revolving in her mind,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">She thought, &ldquo;I will create a child<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Shall speak for all his kind.&rdquo;<br /></span>
+</div>
+
+<div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">It was the spring-time of the year,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And, lo! where Avon&rsquo;s waters flow,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The child, her darling, came on earth<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Three hundred years ago.<br /></span>
+</div>
+
+<div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">There was no portent in the sky,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">No cry, like Pan&rsquo;s, along the seas,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Nor hovered round his baby mouth<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">The swarm of classic bees.<br /></span>
+</div>
+
+<div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">What other children were he was;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">If more, &rsquo;twas not to mortal ken;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The being likest to mankind<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Made him the man of men.<br /></span>
+</div>
+
+<div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Before he came, his like was not,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Nor left he heirs to share his powers.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The mighty mother sent him here<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">To be her voice and ours;<br /></span>
+</div>
+
+<div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">To be her oracle to man;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">To be what man may be to her;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Between the Maker and the made<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">The best interpreter.<br /></span>
+</div>
+
+<p class="poet smcap">Richard H. Stoddard.</p>
+</div>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_390" id="Page_390">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>390]</a></span></p>
+
+<h2>SMILES AND TEARS.</h2>
+
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p class="cap">BOTH sword and guns are strong, no doubt,<br />
+<span class="i3">And so are tongue and pen,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And so are sheaves of good bank-notes,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">To sway the souls of men;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But guns and swords, and gold and thought,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Though mighty in their sphere,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Are often poorer than a smile,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And weaker than a tear.<br /></span></p>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+
+<h2><a name="Page_390lower" id="Page_390lower"></a>NICOLO&rsquo;S LITTLE FRIEND.</h2>
+
+
+<p><span class="dropcap">N</span>ICOLO, Nicolo, where are you?
+Where have you hidden yourself?
+Come here; I want you.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>It was a very bright-eyed little girl who
+spoke these words&mdash;under a bright sky,
+too&mdash;the sunny sky of Italy.</p>
+
+<p>But Nicolo, a boy some years older
+than herself, looked far from bright or
+happy; he was lying full length on the
+ground in the sunlight; but his face was
+overcast and melancholy.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Lazy fellow!&rdquo; said little Gianetta,
+laughingly, as she came up to him; &ldquo;I am
+out of breath calling to you. Come along;
+I want you. Mother has done with me,
+and we can make some music together.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>But Nicolo shook his head, though he
+smiled at his little friend.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;What is it?&rdquo; asked Gianetta. &ldquo;Why
+can&rsquo;t you come? Is it the father again?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Nicolo sighed. He was a cheerful,
+happy-tempered boy by nature. And yet
+Gianetta often found him looking very sad.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Tiresome, bad man!&rdquo; broke forth the
+little girl. &ldquo;He has been scolding you
+again; but no. Stop; I will say no
+wicked things of him, for he is your father;
+and we must honor our parents, be
+they bad or good, Father Clement says.
+But tell me, Nicolo, what has he said or
+done?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;It is nothing,&rdquo; said Nicolo, rousing
+himself at length&mdash;&ldquo;nothing, my little
+Gianetta; but it wearies me. It is the
+old tale; he likes not my music&mdash;thinks
+it an excuse for idleness. Listen, little
+one. I make my plans now. I cannot
+bear this life. I must do as he wishes&mdash;learn
+a trade or somewhat, and give up
+my violin.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;That you never shall do,&rdquo; said Gianetta,
+earnestly. &ldquo;You think me naughty,
+Nicolo; but I am not. I only see it
+plainer than you or your father. God has
+given you this talent,&mdash;this great one,&mdash;and
+you shall not hide it, you shall not
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_391" id="Page_391">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>391]</a></span>
+bury it.&rdquo; The little girl&rsquo;s face was so
+eager, that Nicolo smiled at her.</p>
+
+<p>But she went on, more excitedly:&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Get up this moment, Nicolo, and come
+in with me. We will play somewhat together.
+Your father never scolds you
+when I am by. And you shall not give
+up your music.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>The boy, half in earnest, and half
+amused, let the child drag him into a
+little house near, put his violin into his
+arms, and then seat herself at the piano,
+while in the distance sat Nicolo&rsquo;s father,
+gloomily watching the pair.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Begin,&rdquo; said Gianetta, &ldquo;and tell me
+when I play wrongly.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>But for such a mere child, Gianetta
+played with marvellous correctness. As
+for Nicolo, his countenance cleared with
+every sound that he drew from his beloved
+violin; he forgot his gloomy father;
+he thought no longer of his dull, sad home.
+He was wrapped in that wonderful content
+which the possession of some great
+talent gives.</p>
+
+<p>With the last chord the brightness
+faded, however, out of his face.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Take me home now,&rdquo; said the little girl.</p>
+
+<p>Home was only across the street; but
+Gianetta wanted another word in private
+with her friend.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Nicolo,&rdquo; she said, gravely, &ldquo;never
+speak more of giving up the music; it is
+not to be. I am sorry for you, my poor
+boy; I know it is a hard life, but&mdash;&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;But I will make a name for myself at
+last,&rdquo; said Nicolo, catching her enthusiasm;
+&ldquo;and then, perhaps, my father will
+have faith in me. Till then I will be
+brave, little one; so good night.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>It <em>was</em> a hard life for Nicolo&mdash;his
+mother dead, his father with no care for
+his son&rsquo;s one great passion&mdash;music.
+Many a time the boy&rsquo;s spirit failed, and
+he even grew to doubt his own powers
+under the cold glance and cruel taunts
+which daily met him.</p>
+
+<p>He was sitting one day, feeling even
+sadder than usual,&mdash;discontented even
+with the sounds he drew from his instrument,&mdash;when
+Gianetta&rsquo;s mother stood in
+the doorway.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;The child is ill,&rdquo; she said, hurriedly&mdash;&ldquo;very
+ill, and calls ever for you. Come.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>So Nicolo went, and, though tossed
+with fever, his little friend smiled on him.
+There was, however, a longing look in
+her eyes; but her parched lips could not
+form a word.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Is it the violin?&rdquo; asked Nicolo, softly.</p>
+
+<p>She smiled again, and Nicolo fetched
+his treasure.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;A sleeping song?&rdquo; he questioned.</p>
+
+<p>The little face grew calm and soft at
+his question. Sweetly the music floated
+through the room, stilling the little sufferer,
+and comforting the watchers. When
+he had finished, Gianetta stretched out
+her arms.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Thank you, dear Nicolo,&rdquo; she said;
+&ldquo;that was pleasant. Now I shall sleep;
+but <em>you</em> must never sleep; you have much
+else to do; you must go out into the
+world, and be famous&mdash;go away far, far
+from here. Do you mind my words?
+Will you remember them?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>And she lay back exhausted on her
+pillow, never more to ask for music in
+this world. Gianetta was listening even
+then to the angels&rsquo; song.</p>
+
+<p>That night Nicolo sat beside the dead
+body of his little friend. Lights burned,
+flowers were scattered round her, and
+prayers were said without ceasing in all
+those long hours. It was the custom of
+the country; it did not disturb the dead,
+and it comforted the living.</p>
+
+<p>And when morning dawned, the friendless
+boy went back to his little room
+across the road, and there he poured out
+his heart in a farewell strain to his dear
+companion who had thus suddenly been
+snatched from him.</p>
+
+<p>There was no more now to be done but
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_392" id="Page_392">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>392]</a></span>
+to fulfil her last command&mdash;to go out into
+the world, and to make himself famous.</p>
+
+<p>Did he do so?</p>
+
+<p>Ask those who love music, and hold
+dear all great names in its roll of fame, if
+they ever heard of Nicolo Paganini; for
+it is of his boyhood that I write.</p>
+
+<p>How far he owed his success in life to
+a little girl, each reader may judge for
+himself. She certainly inspired him with
+courage when he was very down-hearted;
+and through all his brilliant career, I think
+he at least must always have remembered
+her with gratitude.</p>
+
+<p class="sig">H. A. F.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+
+<h2><a name="Page_392lower" id="Page_392lower"></a>A CHILD&rsquo;S PETITION.</h2>
+
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p class="cap">O THOU above,<br />
+<span class="i3">From whose great love<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The world all good receives,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Make me as bright<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">With thy blessed light<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">As a rose with all her leaves.<br /></span></p>
+</div>
+
+<div class="stanza">
+<span class="i2">Wash me as clean<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">From every sin,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">O pitiful, pitiful One;<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">And make me shine<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">With thy grace divine,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Like a lily with the sun.<br /></span>
+</div>
+
+<div class="stanza">
+<span class="i2">Take pride away,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Dear Lord, I pray,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And make me pure and true,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">That I may be fed<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">On thy living bread,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">As the daisy is fed on the dew.<br /></span>
+</div>
+
+<div class="stanza">
+<span class="i2">Help me still<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">To do thy will<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Till life has passed away,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">And in the dark<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">To sing like a lark<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">At the golden gate of the day.<br /></span>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_393" id="Page_393">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>393]</a></span></p>
+
+<h2>THE TRUANT.</h2>
+
+
+<p><span class="dropcap">W</span>HAT&rsquo;S the matter with Neddy Oram?&rdquo; I said as a noise outside drew
+me to the window, and I saw old Mrs. Oram dragging her grandson
+along the street. She looked angry and determined.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;He&rsquo;s played truant, I guess,&rdquo; answered my little girl as she came to my
+side. &ldquo;He played truant last week, and Mr. Jonas made him stand on one
+foot ever so long a time. And when he got tired and put the other one down,
+he switched him on the leg. Oh dear! I don&rsquo;t want to go this morning. I
+wish Neddy wouldn&rsquo;t play truant, nor be bad in school! He&rsquo;s such a nice
+boy, and I can&rsquo;t bear to see him whipped. Mr. Jonas will cut him dreadfully,
+I know he will, for he said he&rsquo;d take the skin off of him if ever he played
+truant again.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Neddy was a nice boy, as my little girl said. He was bright and active,
+kind-hearted and generous. I never saw him do a mean or selfish thing. But
+he had a free, rather reckless spirit and a will that was stubbornness itself when
+aroused. Kindness softened, but anger hardened, him.</p>
+
+<p>Neddy&rsquo;s father and mother were both dead, and the boy lived with his
+grandmother, who was rather a hard woman, and believed more in the power
+of force than in the power of kindness.</p>
+
+<p>As soon as I understood the case I put on my bonnet hastily and ran after
+Mrs. Oram, hoping to come up with her before she reached the school-room.
+I was a few moments too late for this, but in time to have a word with Mr.
+Jonas, who stood at the door holding the struggling boy firmly by the arm.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I want you to promise me one thing,&rdquo; I said, laying my hand on the
+schoolmaster&rsquo;s. I spoke in as quiet a voice as I could assume, but very seriously.
+My words and manner threw Mr. Jonas off of his guard. His hold
+on the boy relaxed, and in the next instant Neddy was beyond his reach and
+running off as fast as his feet could carry him.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;After him!&rdquo; cried the schoolmaster, greatly excited. &ldquo;After him, John
+Wilkins!&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>A large, coarse-looking boy started forward, and was about passing through
+the door, when I put my hand on him, and pressing him back said,</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Wait a moment, John. Maybe, after I&rsquo;ve said a word to Mr. Jonas, he&rsquo;ll
+not want you to go. Tell him to wait, Mr. Jonas; do, now, because I want
+you.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>I softened my voice to a persuasive tone, and so made my interference
+effectual. The schoolmaster told John Wilkins to go back to his seat.</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Oram had started after her troublesome grandson on the instant of his
+escape, and so I was left alone with the excited teacher.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Now, don&rsquo;t be angry with me,&rdquo; said I, &ldquo;nor tell me to go away and
+mind my own business. Two heads are sometimes better than one; and it&rsquo;s
+my opinion that if you and I put our heads together, we can save this poor
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_394" id="Page_394"><!-- Illustration - THE TRUANT --></a></span>
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_395" id="Page_395">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>395]</a></span>
+boy from being ruined. There is a great deal of good in him, but as things
+go now I&rsquo;m afraid it will be lost. With natures like his, &lsquo;love has readier
+will than fear.&rsquo; His grandmother doesn&rsquo;t know how to manage him. Let
+us try to show her a better way.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<div class="figcenter ipadtop" style="width: 441px;">
+<img src="images/hd158.jpg" width="441" height="600"
+alt="Neddy being dragged to school by his grandmother" />
+</div>
+
+<p class="caption">THE TRUANT.</p>
+
+<p>By the time I had said this the thoughts of Mr. Jonas had become clearer
+and his anger against Neddy much abated. I saw this in his face.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Let the boy go now,&rdquo; I added. &ldquo;After school come and see me, and
+we&rsquo;ll have a long talk over the matter. But promise me one thing.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;What is that?&rdquo; he asked.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;If old Mrs. Oram brings Neddy back to-day, don&rsquo;t punish him.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Very well. It shall be as you say,&rdquo; answered the schoolmaster.</p>
+
+<p>That evening Mr. Jonas called to see me. He was a better man, on the
+whole, than he was a schoolmaster. Out of school he was kind and genial,
+but as a teacher he was not always as wise and as patient as he should be.
+Like Neddy&rsquo;s grandmother, he believed more in the power of force than he
+did in the power of kindness. His rod was always in sight, and too often in
+his hand. He ruled by fear, and not by love.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Did Neddy come back to school?&rdquo; I asked.</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Jonas shook his head gravely.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Oh, mother,&rdquo; cried my little girl, rushing into the room just at this
+moment, &ldquo;Neddy Oram&rsquo;s lost or run away!&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>She stopped on seeing Mr. Jonas; her face, that had been a little pale,
+flushed deeply, and her eyes had an angry flash. &ldquo;And it&rsquo;s all your fault!&rdquo;
+she added, with a sudden brave indignation in her tiny voice as she turned on
+the schoolmaster and looked at him steadily.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;My fault!&rdquo; said the schoolmaster, in a startled voice.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Yes, sir. It&rsquo;s all your fault. If you hadn&rsquo;t made him stand on one leg
+until he was almost tired to death, and switched him when he put the other
+down, and if you hadn&rsquo;t said you&rsquo;d cut the skin off of him, he wouldn&rsquo;t have
+run away.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>And here little Carrie burst out crying, and buried her face, sobbing, in my
+lap.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Brave talk for my timid little girl, Mr. Jonas,&rdquo; I said, in an undertone,
+&ldquo;but all true, I&rsquo;m afraid.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;What is true?&rdquo; he asked, looking bewildered.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;All that Carrie has said. This way you have of flogging children does
+more harm than good. A man of your clear mind and kindly nature might
+surely find some better way to govern your scholars.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Jonas did not answer. There was a look of pained surprise on his
+face.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Run away, lost!&rdquo; he exclaimed, after a few moments, rising to his feet.
+His manner had become suddenly agitated. &ldquo;Poor boy! I must see about
+this;&rdquo; and he went out hastily.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_396" id="Page_396">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>396]</a></span>
+When Neddy Oram, who was only ten years old, escaped from the schoolmaster,
+he went directly home and hid himself in the garret, behind some
+boxes and old furniture. He ran so much faster than his grandmother that
+she lost sight of him and did not see him go into the house. So no search
+was made for him in the garret. Like some poor hunted animal that had
+gained a place of safety, he crouched panting in his hiding-place, enjoying for
+a time a sweet sense of security. But Neddy could not long forget how small
+and weak and dependent he was. It was all very well to hide away from his
+grandmother, but how was he to get anything to eat?</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Run away!&rdquo; said a voice that spoke inside of him, but so loud and clear
+that he almost started. &ldquo;Run away!&rdquo; repeated the voice. &ldquo;Grandmother
+Oram will find you out up here and take you back to school, and Mr. Jonas
+will switch you half to death.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>I wonder who it was that said this, or how a voice could speak inside of
+Neddy Oram? It was a bad spirit, I think, that wished to do him harm. We
+may often hear these bad spirits speaking in our thoughts and telling us to do
+naughty things. Good spirits speak in our thoughts as well as bad ones, and
+they tell us to do what is right, to be kind and generous and loving and
+true.</p>
+
+<p>I am sorry to say that Neddy, who was not only angry with his grandmother
+and the schoolmaster, but on account of his wrong-doings and disobedience
+afraid of them, listened to this voice, and as he listened the bad spirit made
+the voice seem so like his own thoughts that he knew not but that all came
+from himself.</p>
+
+<p>So under this wrong influence he planned an escape from the house, which
+was to be made as soon as his grandmother went out. For an hour or two he
+heard her moving around. At last all was still. Then he stole from his hiding-place
+and listened at the head of the stairs. Not the slightest sound broke
+the deep silence. Grandmother had gone away. Then he took a loaf of
+bread, a large slice of cake and some apples, which he tied up in a handkerchief;
+and stealing out of the back door, he ran through the garden and out
+of a gate that opened into a lane. At the end of this lane was a piece of
+woods, and beyond this wood a deep hollow, along which it was easy to go
+without danger of being seen by any one.</p>
+
+<p>How strangely the little boy&rsquo;s heart beat as he hurried along, going he
+knew not whither! It was not long before he reached the hollow beyond the
+woods. After crossing this hollow, he entered another wood by a narrow path
+made by the cattle. The trees in this wood were very tall and close together,
+and the underbrush grew so thick that he could see before him only for a short
+distance.</p>
+
+<p>The silence and darkness of this heavy forest caused a lonely feeling to
+come over Neddy. All at once the thought of bears and wolves came into
+his mind, and with the thought fear crept into his heart. A weakness fell upon
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_397" id="Page_397">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>397]</a></span>
+him, and he stood still with drops of cold sweat on his forehead. Then he
+turned and ran back, but in doing so missed the way and took a path that,
+instead of taking him out of the forest, led him farther into it. He ran
+and ran, panting for breath, until he was so tired that he had to sit down to
+rest.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;What if I am lost?&rdquo; he said to himself, a cold chill running over him at
+the thought. Lost! How wildly the poor little boy&rsquo;s heart began to beat!
+As he sat there, feeling too weak from weariness and fear to arise, he heard not
+far off the sound of feet cracking the dry sticks and rustling the leaves that
+lay upon the ground. He held his breath in terror, for he was sure it was a
+bear or wolf. Nearer and nearer the animal came, passing only a few rods
+from where he sat motionless.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Oh, oh!&rdquo; exclaimed Neddy, in tones of relief, starting to his feet as he
+saw a young heifer which was astray in the woods.</p>
+
+<p>At sight of the boy the heifer, scared by his sudden appearance, started off
+at a run and was soon out of sight, leaving Neddy again alone. He tried to
+follow her, but was not able to get on her track. Oh how he did wish
+himself at home! How sorry he was that he had played truant on the day
+before!</p>
+
+<p>In trying to follow the heifer, Neddy left the narrow path along which he
+had been going, and now he was among the thick undergrowth of the forest,
+his hands and face scratched with briars. The trees stood so close together
+that no sunshine came down through their thick branches. All was dim and
+shadowy.</p>
+
+<p>Poor Neddy! A great fear and loneliness fell on him again; and sitting
+down on the limb of a fallen tree, he began to cry bitterly. But crying was
+of no use. It wouldn&rsquo;t get him out of the woods and safely home again. So
+he dried his tears and started on again, hoping to find the path he had left.
+But he tried in vain. All at once he noticed that the light was fading rapidly
+and the air growing cold. The sun had gone down, and night was falling.
+Neddy&rsquo;s heart began to beat wildly; he could feel the throbs all over him;
+there was a great pressure as if a hand were laid on his breast; he could
+scarcely breathe, so strong was the feeling of suffocation that oppressed him.
+He tried to run, but his foot caught in a vine, and he fell upon the ground,
+where he lay for a long time before he had strength enough to arise.</p>
+
+<p>In his weakness and exhaustion the poor boy found strength and courage.
+How! Think, my little reader. What would you have done if lost in the
+woods as Neddy was lost? Where would you have looked for help? You
+would have done, I am very sure, just as he did. And what did he do?
+Why, he put his little hands together, and lifting his tearful eyes upward
+prayed that God would take care of him, and not let any wild beasts eat him
+up.</p>
+
+<p>As soon as he had done this the dreadful fear from which he was suffering went
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_398" id="Page_398">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>398]</a></span>
+out of his heart. Just a little way beyond the spot where Neddy had fallen
+was a small clear place in the forest, where grew a bed of soft green moss. A
+few rays of light came down through an opening in the trees and showed him
+this cosy nook. Once in it, there seemed to grow all about him a wall of darkness.
+So he sat down upon the moss with a strange feeling of peace and security
+in his heart.</p>
+
+<p>And now, for the first time, Neddy felt hungry. So he opened the bundle
+of bread and cake which he had brought with him, and ate with a keen relish.
+Then he began to feel tired and heavy. The soft moss on which he was resting
+was just the bed for a poor tired boy like him, and before he had time to
+think of his loneliness and danger he was fast asleep.</p>
+
+<p>But sleep sometimes gives us frightful dreams, and one of these came to
+Neddy. He still thought himself a poor lost boy in the woods trying to find
+his way out. He heard wolves howling, and saw bears and tigers and all
+kinds of wild beasts. At last a wolf with great red jaws came after him, and
+he started to run, but his terror was so great that he could scarcely move his
+feet. A fearful growl ran through the woods, and the dreadful beast came
+rushing down upon him. At this frightful moment he heard his name called;
+and turning, he saw Mr. Jonas, the schoolmaster, running toward him with an
+axe in his hand, with which he struck the wolf just as he was about seizing
+him. The wolf fell dead, and the schoolmaster, catching Neddy up in his
+arms, said, tenderly, &ldquo;My poor, poor boy!&rdquo; and hugged him tightly to his
+breast.</p>
+
+<p>Was all this a dream? No, not all, for Neddy awoke and found himself in
+the schoolmaster&rsquo;s arms, with two or three men around holding lanterns in
+their hands.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;My poor, poor boy!&rdquo; said the schoolmaster again, laying his hand tenderly
+on his recovered scholar; and this time Neddy heard the words in full
+wakefulness.</p>
+
+<p>He did not stir, but lay with his head close against Mr. Jonas, who, guided
+by the men with lanterns, walked hurriedly through the forest, and soon came
+to the road that led to the village.</p>
+
+<p>I was at Grandmother Oram&rsquo;s, waiting anxiously for news of the lost boy,
+when the schoolmaster came in with Neddy in his arms. I had been talking
+long and seriously with the frightened old lady about her way of treating Neddy,
+and she had promised me not to say a hard or angry word to him when he
+came home, if that ever should be. She was very much softened, and her
+real love for Neddy was having its full course.</p>
+
+<p>It was after ten o&rsquo;clock when we heard the sound of coming feet. The poor
+old lady started up and stood pale and breathless. The door opened and Mr.
+Jonas came in, carrying Neddy in his arms. His face was softer in expression
+than I had ever seen it. He did not say a word until he came close up to Mrs.
+Oram, when, holding out the boy, he said, in a low voice that was broken and
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_399" id="Page_399">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>399]</a></span>
+tender, &ldquo;Be kind to the poor child, Mrs. Oram. I will see you about him
+in the morning,&rdquo; then merely adding, as he turned to leave, &ldquo;We found him
+asleep in the woods,&rdquo; went out hastily.</p>
+
+<p>There was a new order of things in the village school after that. The rod
+fell from Mr. Jonas&rsquo; hand, never to be lifted again, and he soon learned that
+in kindness was greater power than in fear. Neddy was in his place on the
+next day, and from that time onward was one of the most obedient and faithful
+scholars in school. Mr. Jonas&rsquo; manner toward him was kind and gentle,
+and Neddy felt drawn toward him by a strange attraction that gave the schoolmaster
+the power over him of a wise and loving father. No thought of disobedience
+crossed the boy&rsquo;s mind. It was his delight to obey.</p>
+
+<p>All this happened many years ago, and now the boy Neddy has grown to be
+a strong, wise, good man, an honor to the position he holds, and one of the
+best of citizens. He had the opportunity of doing Mr. Jonas many kind acts;
+and when at last the old man grew too feeble to earn his living, Mr. Oram
+made his last days comfortable by placing him above the reach of want.</p>
+
+<div class="figcenter ipadboth" style="width: 250px;">
+<img src="images/hd159.png" width="250" height="90"
+alt="THE END" />
+</div>
+
+
+
+<div class="bbox">
+<p><b>Transcriber's Note</b></p>
+
+<p>Archaic spelling is preserved as printed. Variable spelling and inconsistent
+hyphenation is preserved as printed across different pieces, but has been
+made consistent within pieces if there was a prevalence of one form.
+Punctuation and printer errors (e.g. omitted or transposed letters) have
+been repaired.</p>
+
+<p>The following amendments have also been made:</p>
+
+<div class="amends">
+<p>Page <a href="#Page_133">133</a>&mdash;omitted word 'the' added&mdash;"&ldquo;Tell
+mother we want to make coffee in the field, too&rdquo; ..."</p>
+
+<p>Page <a href="#Page_341">341</a>&mdash;mud amended to snow, based on the context&mdash;"...
+enable it to wade through the deep snow, ..."</p>
+</div>
+
+<p>In the story "How a Good Dinner was Lost" the older sister is named as
+both Rosa and Rosy.</p>
+
+<p>Illustrations have been moved where necessary so that they are not in the
+middle of a paragraph. Omitted page numbers were the original location of
+full page illustrations.</p>
+</div>
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+<pre>
+
+
+
+
+
+End of Project Gutenberg's Happy Days for Boys and Girls, by Various
+
+*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK HAPPY DAYS FOR BOYS AND GIRLS ***
+
+***** This file should be named 30720-h.htm or 30720-h.zip *****
+This and all associated files of various formats will be found in:
+        http://www.gutenberg.org/3/0/7/2/30720/
+
+Produced by Juliet Sutherland, Sam W. and the Online
+Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net
+
+
+Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions
+will be renamed.
+
+Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no
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+</body>
+</html>
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author	Roger Frank <rfrank@pglaf.org>	2025-10-14 19:54:21 -0700
committer	Roger Frank <rfrank@pglaf.org>	2025-10-14 19:54:21 -0700
commit	8accdfb11fcfc3f92fed0dd517902caebab7984a (patch)
tree	23c402b6285b6302271d223c5a8ec0ee561e35bb /30720-h