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+This eBook, including all associated images, markup, improvements,
+metadata, and any other content or labor, has been confirmed to be
+in the PUBLIC DOMAIN IN THE UNITED STATES.
+
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+Project Gutenberg (https://www.gutenberg.org) public repository for
+eBook #67560 (https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/67560)
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-The Project Gutenberg eBook of All the World Over, by Ella Farman
-
-This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and
-most other parts of the world 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. If you are not located in the United States, you
-will have to check the laws of the country where you are located before
-using this eBook.
-
-Title: All the World Over
-       Interesting Stories of Travel, Thrilling Adventure and Home Life
-
-Authors: Ella Farman
-         Lucia Chase Bell
-         Frank H. Converse
-         Louise Stockton
-         Other Popular Authors
-
-Release Date: March 4, 2022 [eBook #67560]
-
-Language: English
-
-Produced by: Alan, Juliet Sutherland and the Online Distributed
-             Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net
-
-*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK ALL THE WORLD OVER ***
-
-
-
-
-
-[Illustration: IN THE BULL-CIRCUS, MADRID.]
-
-
-
-
-                          ALL THE WORLD OVER
-
-               _INTERESTING STORIES OF TRAVEL, THRILLING
-                       ADVENTURE AND HOME LIFE_
-
-                                  BY
-
-        ELLA FARMAN, MRS. LUCIA CHASE BELL, FRANK H. CONVERSE,
-              LOUISE STOCKTON, AND OTHER POPULAR AUTHORS
-
-
-                 [Illustration: ON A WILD GOOSE CHASE]
-
-                          _FULLY ILLUSTRATED_
-
-                                BOSTON
-
-                          D. LOTHROP COMPANY
-
-                                 1893.
-
-
-
-
-                           COPYRIGHT, 1892,
-                                  BY
-                          D. LOTHROP COMPANY.
-
-
-                        _All rights reserved._
-
-
-[Illustration]
-
-
-
-
-  CONTENTS
-  (Created by transcriber. Not present in original.)
-
-  All the World Over                             Unknown
-
-  Queen Louisa and the Children                  Mary Stuart Smith
-
-  The Plaything of an Empress                    M. S. P.
-
-  Charlie’s Week in Boston                       Charles E. Hurd
-
-  A Wonderful Trio                               Jane Howard
-
-  Two Fortune-seekers                            Rossiter Johnson
-
-  The Little Christmas Pies                      E. F.
-
-  The Strangers from the South                   Ella Farman
-
-  Wi’ Wee Winkers Blinkin’                       J. E. Rankin, D. D.
-
-  The Childrens’ Shoes                           Blanche B. Baker
-
-  Ethel’s Experiment                             B. E. E.
-
-  Cinders                                        Madge Elliot
-
-  Tom’s Centennial                               Margaret Eytinge
-
-  Little Chub and the Sky Window                 Mary D. Brine
-
-  Little Boy Blue                                C. A. Goodenow
-
-  Ghosts and Water-melons                        J. H. Woodbury
-
-  Funny Little Alice                             Mrs. Fanny Barrow
-
-  “Pretty,” and Her Violin                       Holme Maxwell
-
-  Dolly’s Last Night                             Emily Huntington Miller
-
-  Nib and Meg                                    Ella Farman
-
-  The Little Parsnip-man                         E. F.
-
-  How Dorr Fought                                Salome
-
-  Tim’s Partner                                  Amanda M. Douglas
-
-  Unto Babes                                     Helen Kendrick Johnson
-
-  What Happened to the Baby                      Magaret Eytinge
-
-  Mrs. White’s Party                             Mrs. H. G. Rowe
-
-  Queer Church                                   Rev. S. W. Duffield
-
-  The Fun-and-frolic Art School                  Stanley Wood
-
-  Some Quaker Boys of 1776                       C. H. Woodman
-
-  What I Heard on the Street                     Clara F. Guernsey
-
-  Kip’s Minister                                 Kate W. Hamilton
-
-  Jim’s Troubles                                 Grandmere Julie
-
-  The Christmas Thorn                            Louise Stockton
-
-  Midget’s Baby                                  Mary D. Brine
-
-  A Nocturnal Lunch, and Its Consequences        Lily J. Chute
-
-  Lulu’s Pets                                    Mary Standish Robinson
-
-  What Janet Did With Her Christmas Present      L. J. L.
-
-  Christmas Roast Beef                           A. W. Lyman
-
-  Granny Luke’s Courage                          M. E. W. S.
-
-  Billy’s Hound (PI)                             Sara E. Chester
-
-  Billy’s Hound (PII)                            Sara E. Chester
-
-  Pussy Willow and the South Wind                A Poem
-
-  Little Sister and Her Puppets                  Rev. W. W. Newton
-
-  Spring Fun                                     A Poem
-
-  The Lost Dimple                                Mary D. Brine
-
-  The Other Side of the Story                    Kate Lawrence
-
-  Jack Horner                                    A Poem’s Meaning
-
-  Double Dinks                                   Elizabeth Stoddard
-
-  Learning to Swim                               Edgar Fawcett
-
-  Sweetheart’s Surprise                          Mary E. C. Wyeth
-
-  The Cross-patch                                Mrs. Emily Shaw Farman
-
-  The Proud Bantam                               Clara Louise Burnham
-
-  The True Story of Simple Simon                 Harriette R. Shattuck
-
-  In the Tunnel of Mount Cenis                   Mrs. Alfred Macy
-
-  A Ride on a Centaur                            Hamilton W. Mabie
-
-  Lill’s Travels in Santa Claus Land             Ellis Towne
-
-  Bob’s “Breaking in”                             Eleanor Putnam
-
-  The First Hunt                                 J. H. Woodbury
-
-  Chinese Decoration For Easter Eggs             S. K. B.
-
-  Il Santissimo Bambino                          Phebe F. MᶜKeen
-
-  My Mother Put It on                            Mrs. A. D. T. Whitney
-
-  A Child in Florence (PI)                       K. R. L.
-
-  A Child in Florence (PII)                      K. R. L.
-
-  A Child in Florence (PIII)                     K. R. L.
-
-  Seeing the Pope                                Mrs. Alfred Macy
-
-  Fayette’s Ride                                 Clara F. Guernsey
-
-  Fanny                                          Clara Doty Bates
-
-  Little Mary’s Secret                           Mrs. L. C. Whiton
-
-  How Patty Curtis Learned to Sweep              Mrs. M. L. Evans
-
-  A Bird Story                                   M. E. B.
-
-  A New Lawn Game                                G. B. Bartlett
-
-  How Philip Sullivan Did an Errand              Mary Densel
-
-  Winter With the Poets                          The Editor
-
-  Bessie’s Story                                 Frank H. Converse
-
-  A Difference of Opinion                        The Editor
-
-  The Grass, the Brook, and the Dandelions       Margaret Eytinge
-
-  The Birds’ Harvest                             Mrs. J. D. Chaplin
-
-  Birds’-nest Soup                               Ella Rodman Church
-
-  The Story of Two Forgotten Kisses              Kitty Clover
-
-
-
-
-ALL THE WORLD OVER
-
-
-Perhaps one of the most vivid impressions which the tourist receives
-upon his entrance into any Spanish city whatsoever, is of its muscular
-beggars--men of enormous size, with their ruffianly swaggering strength
-exaggerated by the national cloak. This garment is of heavy, tufted
-woollens, long and fringed, almost indestructable, and is frequently
-worn to muffle half the face; and the broad slouch hat, usually with a
-couple of rough feathers stuck in its band, does not tend to soften the
-general brigandish effect.
-
-These beggars are licensed by the government, which must reap a
-goodly revenue from the disgraceful crowd, as they are numerous, and
-therefore they pursue their avocation in the most open manner. They
-will frequently follow the traveller a half-mile, especially should
-they find him to be ignorant of that magic formula of dismissal which
-is known to all Spaniards:
-
-_Pardon, for God’s sake, Brother!_
-
-This appeal is constantly on the lip of every Spanish lady. She utters
-it swiftly, without so much as a glance, a dozen times of a morning on
-her way to church, as a dozen gaunt, dirty hands are thrust in her face
-as she passes; and hearing it, the most persistent fellow of them all
-is at once silenced, and falls back.
-
-Coming in from their kennel-homes among the ruins and the holes in the
-hills outside, it is the custom to make an early morning tour of the
-city before they take up their stations for the day at the various
-church and hotel doors. Each seems to be provided with “green pudding,”
-in his garlic pot, and he eats as he goes along, and prays as he eats,
-stopping in front of the great oval patio or court gates of iron
-lattice, which guard the mansions of the rich.
-
-At these patio doors he makes a prodigious racket, shaking the iron
-rods furiously, and all the while muttering his prayers, until some one
-of the family appears at a gallery window. Then instantly the mutter
-becomes a whine, a pitiful tale is wailed forth, and alms are dolefully
-implored “for the love of God.” But although such mottoes as “Poverty
-is no Crime” are very often painted on the walls of their fine houses,
-the probability is that the unmoved Señorita will murmur a swift
-“Pardon, for God’s sake, Brother!” and retire, to soon appear again to
-silence another of the fraternity with the same potent formula.
-
-However, each of the countless horde is sure to gather in centimes
-sufficient for the day’s cigarettes and garlic, and, in the long run,
-to support life to a good old age.
-
-
-The Spaniards are a nation of dancers and singers. Every Spanish child
-seems born with the steps, gestures, snappings and clappings of the
-national _fandango_ dance, at the ends of his fingers and toes. A
-guitar is the universal possession, and every owner is a fine player.
-The solitary horseman, the traveller by rail, takes along his guitar;
-and in car, or at cross-roads, he is sure of dancers at the first
-thrilling twang. There is always a merry youth and maiden aboard ready
-to make acquaintance in a dance, and anywhere the whole household will
-troop from the cottage, the plowman will leave his team in the furrow,
-and the laborer drop his hoe, for a half-hour’s joyous “footing o’t.”
-
-One of the interesting sights of Toledo is the great city fountain on
-Street St. Isabel, near the cathedral. It is a good place to study
-donkeys and their drivers, and the lower classes of the populace. The
-water, deliciously sweet and cool, is brought from the mountains by the
-old Moorish-built water-ways, and flows by faucet. There is no public
-system of delivery, consequently a good business falls into the hands
-of private water-carriers. These supply families at a franc a month.
-The poorer households go to and fro with their own water-jars as need
-calls, carrying them on their heads. They often wear a cushioned ring,
-fitting the head, to render the carrying of the jar an easier matter.
-
-A picturesque article of dress among Spanish men, is the national sash,
-a broad woollen some four yards in length, of gay colorings. This is
-wound three or four times around the waist, its fringed end tucked in
-to hang floating, and the inevitable broad knife thrust within its
-folds, which also hold the daily supply of tobacco. A common sight
-is the sudden stop on the street, a lighting of a fresh cigarette, a
-loosening of the loosened sash, a twitch of the short breeches, and
-then a tight, snug wind-up, when the lounger moves on again.
-
-Another amusing sight is the picturesque beggar who seems at first
-glance to be hanging in effigy against the cathedral walls, so
-motionless will some of these fellows stand, hat slouched over the
-face, the brass government “license” labelling the breast, a hand
-extended, and, in many cases, a crest worn prominently on the ragged
-garments, to show that the wearer is a proud descendant of some old
-grandee family. To address this crested beggar by any other title than
-_Caballero_ (gentleman) is a deadly insult.
-
-[Illustration]
-
-
-Among the many small sights of the Plaza about Christmas time, are the
-sellers of zambombas, or Devil’s Fiddles. This toy, which the stranger
-sometime takes for a receptacle of sweet drinks to be imbibed through
-a hollow cane, is a favorite plaything with Spanish children. A skin
-is stretched over a bottomless jar; into this is fastened a stout
-length of sugar-cane, and lo! a zambomba. Its urchin-owner spits on his
-palms, rubs them smartly up and down the ridgy cane, when the skin-drum
-reverberates delightfully.
-
-The fruit markets are of a primitive sort. The peasant fills
-his donkey-panniers with grapes, garlic, melons straw-cased and
-straw-handled, whatever he has ripe, and starts for town. Reaching the
-Plaza, in the shade of the cathedral, he spreads his cloak, rolling a
-rim. On this huge woollen plate he arranges his fruit, weighing it out
-as customers demand.
-
-From the old Moorish casements, the traveller looks down on the most
-rudimentary sort of life. He sees no labor-saving machinery. Instead
-of huge vans loaded with compact hay bales, he beholds the donkey
-hay-train. The farmer binds a mountain of loose hay on each of his
-donkeys, lashes them together, and with a neighbor to help beat the
-train along, starts for market. These trains may be seen any day
-crooking about among the steep mountain-ways.
-
-The student of folk-life notes the shoemakers on the Plaza at work in
-the open air. Formerly the sandal was universally worn, with its sole
-of knotted hemp, and its canvas brought up over the toe, at which point
-was fastened a pair of ribbons about four feet long, and these ribbons
-each province had its own fashion of lacing and tying. But now the
-conventional footgear of Paris is common, and one buys boots of the
-fine glossy Cordovan leather for a trifle.
-
-The proprietors of the neighboring vineyards visit the wine shops
-weekly to bring full wine-skins, and take such as are emptied. These
-skins, often with their wool unsheared, are cured by remaining several
-weeks filled with wine-oil, and all seams are coated with pitch to
-prevent leakage. The wholesale skins hold about eight gallons, being
-usually those of well-grown animals. They are stoutly sewn, tied at
-each knee, and also at the neck, whence the wine is decanted into
-smaller skins by means of a tunnel.
-
-[Illustration]
-
-
-The beggars of Spain are a most devout class. Piety is, with them, the
-form under which they conduct business; a shield, and a certificate of
-character. They walk the streets under the protection of the patron
-saint of the principal church in town, and they formally demand alms of
-you in the name of that saint. It is Religion that solicits you--the
-beggar’s own personality is not at all involved; and it is thus that
-the proud Spanish self-respect is saved from hurt.
-
-The tourist who has not tarried in French towns, is, at first,
-astonished to behold women passing to and fro upon the streets with no
-head covering whatever. Hats and bonnets are rarely seen upon Spanish
-women of the lower and middle classes. Those who are street-venders
-sit bareheaded all day long in their chairs on the Plaza, wholly
-indifferent to the great heat and blinding dazzle of the Spanish sun.
-About Christmas, dozens of a “stands” spring up along the Plaza. It is
-at that season that the gypsy girls come in with their roasters and
-their bags of big foreign chestnuts; and they do a thriving business,
-for every good Spanish child expects roast chestnuts and salt at
-Christmas.
-
-Many of the mountain families about Toledo keep small flocks of
-sheep--flocks that, instead of dotting a green landscape with peaceful
-white, as in America and Northern Europe, only darken the reddish-brown
-soil of Spain with a restless shading of a redder and a deeper hue.
-These brown sheep are herded daily down on the fenceless wastes. The
-shepherd-boys are usually attended by shepherd-dogs so enormous in size
-that the traveller often mistakes them for donkeys. They are sagacious,
-and do most of the herding, their masters devoting themselves to the
-guitar, the siesta, the cigarette, and the garlic pudding.
-
-Toledo, more than any other Spanish city, abounds with interesting bits
-and noble examples of the old Moorish architecture, for the reason
-that it has not been rebuilt at all, and that few of its ruins have
-been restored, or even retouched. Color alone has changed. The city
-now is of the soft hue of a withered pomegranate. Turn where you will,
-your eye is delighted by an ornate façade, a carved gateway with its
-small reticent entrance door, a window with balcony and cross-bars, and
-everywhere there is the horseshoe arch with its beautiful curve. The
-old Alcazar is standing, though occupied as a Spanish arsenal, and on
-the height opposite is the ruin of a fine Moorish castle.
-
-[Illustration]
-
-
-One of the best “small businesses” in a Spanish city, is that of the
-domestic water-supply. Those dealers who have no donkeys, convey it
-to their customers in long wheelbarrows constructed with a frame to
-receive and hold several jars securely. Stone jars, with wood stopples
-attached with a cord, are used, the carrying-jars, being emptied
-into larger jars in the water-cellars. The peasants have a poetic
-appellation for the soft, constant drip of the water from the old
-aqueducts: _The sigh of the Moor_.
-
-With the Spaniard, as with the American, the turkey is a special
-Christmas luxury. But the tempting rows of dressed fowls common to our
-markets and groceries, are never to be seen. As the holiday season
-draws very close at hand, the mountain men come down into the city,
-driving before them their cackling, gobbling, lustrous-feathered
-flocks, bestowing upon them, of course, the usual daily allowance of
-blows which is meted out to the patient family donkey. These poultry
-dealers congregate upon the Plaza, where they smoke, and chaff, and
-dicker, keeping their droves in place with the whip; and the buyer
-shares in the capture of his flying, screaming, flapping purchase, in
-company with all the children on the street, for the turkey market is
-usually great fun for the Spanish youngster.
-
-In the cold season, one of the morning sights of a Spanish town is the
-preparation of the big charcoal braziers outside the gates of the fine
-dwelling-houses. The coals are laid and lighted, and then the servant
-blows them with a large grass fan until the ashes are white, when he
-may consider that all deadly fumes are dissipated, and that it is safe
-to carry it within to the room it is to warm.
-
-Nearly all the peasants in the near vicinity of cities are market
-gardeners on a small scale. They cultivate small plots, and whenever
-any crop is ripe, they load their donkey-panniers and go into the
-cities, where they sell from house to house. These vegetable-panniers
-have enormous pockets, and are woven of coarse, dyed grasses, in
-stripes and patterns of gaudy blue and red. When filled, they often
-cover and broaden the donkey’s back to such an extent that the lazy
-owner, determined to ride, must sit on the very last section of
-backbone. Some of the streets in Toledo are so narrow that the brick
-or stone walls of the buildings have been hewn and hollowed out at
-donkey-height, to allow the loaded panniers to pass. The buyers make
-their bargains from the windows, a sample vegetable being handed up for
-inspection.
-
-[Illustration]
-
-
-Travellers should deny themselves Spain during December, January and
-February. The heating apparatus of the American and the English house
-is unknown in Spanish dwellings--fireplace, stove, nor furnace. The
-peasant draws his cloak up to his nose and shivers and cowers, while
-the middle-class family lights a single brazier, and the household,
-gathering in one room, hovers over the charcoal smouldering away in
-its brass cage, and the cats sit and purr on the broad wooden rim.
-These braziers are expensive--constructed of brass and copper--and
-few families afford more than one, making winter comfort out of the
-question, as the floors, of marble or stone, never get well warmed.
-
-With the coming of pleasant weather Spanish families usually forsake
-the blinded, draperied, balconied rooms of the gallery for the secluded
-and garden-like patio. This court is often fifty feet square, and
-in its enclosure there is generally a fountain; the floor is tiled
-with marble, there are stately tropic plants in tubs, and orange and
-palm-trees are growing. Should the sunshine become too fierce there
-are smoothly-running screens and awnings to roof the whole court in an
-instant. Some of the old Moorish patios contain quaint wells, dry at
-some seasons, but often affording water sufficient for housekeeping
-needs.
-
-The water-jars come from the famous potteries of Seville, and, made of
-a rude red clay, are similar in hue to our plant pots. They are brought
-in high loads by oxen--and these pottery carts are often an enlivening
-feature of the dull country roads.
-
-The water cellar is not a cellar at all, but a stone-paved room off
-the patio, delightfully cool and sloppy of a fiery July day, with the
-water-carriers unloading, and filling the array of dripping red jars
-with the day’s supply from the public fountain.
-
-Every Spanish peasant wears a knife in his sash. These knives are
-usually about eighteen inches long, with a broad, sharp, murderous
-blade. The handles are of tortoise or ivory, often carved richly,
-or inlaid with figures of the Virgin, the Saviour, or the crucifix.
-The knife is kept open by a curious little wheel, between blade and
-handle, and is used indiscriminately, to slice a melon or lay bare a
-quarrelsome neighbor’s heart.
-
-[Illustration]
-
-
-Seville is celebrated for its oranges and its pottery. Nearly the
-whole Spanish supply of water-jars comes from this city; and the
-outlying country is agreeably dotted with orange orchards, as olive
-oases enliven the vicinity of Cordova. The export of the fruit is a
-considerable business. The most delicious orange in the world may be
-bought in the streets of Seville for a cent, and the ordinary rate for
-the ordinary fruit is four for a cent. In the Christmas season large
-and selected oranges are sold in the outdoor booths. They are carefully
-brought, and temptingly hung in nets, along with melons cased in straw,
-fine bunches of garlic, chestnuts, assorted lengths of sugar-cane,
-tambourines, zambombas, and such other sweet and noisy objects as
-delight the Spanish youngster.
-
-The decorative plant of Spain is the aloe--truly decorative, with its
-base of long, dark, clear-cut, sword-like leaves, its tall slender
-trunk often rising twenty feet high, and its broad candelabras of
-crimson blooms.
-
-A picturesque industry of Seville is the spinning of the green rope so
-much used by Spanish farmers. It is manufactured from the coarse pampas
-grass of the plains, and the operation is a very leisurely and social
-one, requiring three persons: one to feed the wheel, one to turn it,
-and a third to receive the twisted rope.
-
-Plowing, in Spain, is still a very rude performance. The primitive plow
-of the Garden of Eden era is yet in use--a sharp crotch of a tree,
-crudely shod, however, with iron.
-
-An indispensable article of peasants’ costume for both men and women,
-should an absence of even two hours be contemplated, is the _alforja_,
-or peasant’s bag. This, in idea, is similar to the donkey-pannier--a
-long, stout, woollen strip thickly tufted with bunches of red and blue
-wool, with a bag at either end, and is worn slung over the shoulder.
-The pockets of the _alforja_ invariably contain, one a pot of garlic,
-or green pudding, the other a wine skin.
-
-The mouths of some wine-skins are fitted with a bottomless wooden
-saucer, and are lifted to the lips for drinking; but the preferable and
-national style is to catch the stream with the skin held aloft and away
-at arm’s-length.
-
-[Illustration]
-
-
-A central point of interest for visitors to Seville is the Cathedral.
-Its tower, known as the Giralda, is one of the most celebrated
-examples of sacred Moorish architecture. It was erected in an early
-century, and was considered very ancient when the Spaniards, in the
-reign of Ferdinand and Isabella, built upon it the fine Cathedral. In
-the interior, the Tribuna de la Puorta Mayor is much visited for its
-lofty and beautiful sunlight effects, and there are several precious
-Murillos. The ascent of the Giralda is usually made by tourists--an
-agreeable variety in European climbing, as there are no stairs, the
-whole progress being by an easy series of inclined planes of brick
-masonry. Queen Isabella, not long ago, made the entire ascent and
-return upon horseback. From the summit, one views the whole of Seville,
-with its dark-green rim of orange gardens, set in the great flat
-barrens that stretch out towards Cadiz. A comic sight usual at the foot
-of the tower, significant as a sign of the complete contempt in which
-the Catholic Spaniard holds all things Moslem and Moorish, is that of
-a goat belonging to one of the custodians, tethered from morning till
-night to a fine old Muezzin bell.
-
-Another noted building is the Tower of Gold, on the banks of the
-Guadalquiver, opposite the Gypsy quarter. Tourists visit it to get the
-fine architectural effect of the Cathedral, also for its view of the
-Bull Ring. It stands on the site of the old Inquisition, where hosts of
-Moorish captives were tortured.
-
-The Alcazar, always visited, is an ancient Moorish palace, and is
-considered, in point of elegance, second to only the Alhambra. It is
-now set aside by the government as the residence of the Queen-mother
-Isabella.
-
-San Telmo is also much visited. It is the palace of the Duc de
-Montpensier, known throughout Spain as “the orange man.” He owns
-numerous orange orchards, and lavishes much time and money on his
-plantations and hothouses.
-
-Another point of curiosity is known as the House of Pilate. It is
-said to be an exact reproduction of the celebrated House of Pilate in
-Jerusalem. It is remarkable for some exquisite tiles, and it bears many
-interesting inscriptions.
-
-Seville presents an odd aspect to the stranger between the hours of
-three and six P. M. During this hot interval the streets and shops are
-deserted, everybody, even to the beggars, being under cover and asleep.
-
-[Illustration]
-
-
-Most of the peasant girls in the vicinity of Spanish cities contrive
-to keep a bit of flower-garden for their own personal purposes.
-She is a thriftless lass indeed, who has not at least one fragrant
-double red rose in tending, or some other red-flowered shrub. From
-Christmas on through the spring fête-days of the Church, they reap
-their tiny harvests. During this season every Spanish man and woman
-who can, wears a red flower in button-hole or over the ear, and the
-streets are thronged with bareheaded, black-tressed peasant and gypsy
-flower-venders. Flowers are a part of the daily marketing, and two or
-three centimos--a centimo is one fifth of a cent--suffice to buy a
-fresh nosegay. New Year’s is a marked fête in Seville, as then “The Old
-Queen” in the Alcazar rides out in state, the Alameda is thronged with
-carriages, and the whole populace is a-blossom with red.
-
-A custom noticed by the tourist who lingers about cathedral doors,
-is one most observed, perhaps, by the poorer and more superstitious
-classes. Men and women dip the fingers, on entrance and departure, in
-holy water, and wet some one of the countless crosses which are set in
-the wall just above the cash-boxes--the cash-box in Spain being the
-inevitable accompaniment of the cross.
-
-As in other Spanish cities, the noble Profession of Beggary considers
-itself under the protection of the Church, and the entrance to the
-cathedral is down a long vista of outstretched hands, the fortunate one
-at the far end, who holds aside the matting portiere for you to enter,
-feeling sure of a fee, however the others fare. The whole vicinity
-abounds with loathsome spectacles of disease and distress, those
-entirely helpless managing to be conveyed daily into holy precincts.
-It is often amusing to witness an adult beggar “giving points” to some
-young amateur in the art, the dignity of the national calling evidently
-being insisted upon.
-
-An agreeable sight in this city of churches and beggars, is the
-afternoon stroll of companies of young priests and students from the
-convents. They are very noticeable, as part of the panorama, with
-their broad, silky shovel hats and black flowing gowns. Some are
-scholastic and intent upon their studies even in the streets, while
-others evidently take a most young man-of-the-world enjoyment in their
-cigarettes and the street-sights.
-
-[Illustration]
-
-
-Revenues are collected in most primitive ways by the Spanish City
-Fathers. As there are no important sources of public income, there are
-few transactions, however trifling, that do not pay tax and toll. Every
-man is suspected of smuggling and “false returns,” and it is a small
-bunch of garlic that escapes. Burly officials, often in shirt-sleeves
-and with club, lounge at all the entrances to the town, to levy duty
-upon any chance donkey-pannier or cart bringing in fruit and vegetables
-for sale. Frequently there are scenes of confusion, sometimes of
-violence. The government is determined that not a turnip, not a carrot,
-not a cabbage shall escape the yield of its due; and it is not to be
-denied that the poor farmer hopes fervently to smuggle in a wine-skin
-or two--a dozen of eggs, or some other article of price, among his
-cheaper commodities. As a rule, he fails; for, suspicious of over-much
-gesticulation and protestation, the official is quite likely to tumble
-out sacks, baskets, bundles and bales, and empty every one upon the
-ground, leaving the angry farmer to pick up and load again at his
-leisure.
-
-Andalusia is a brown region stretching gravely between Cadiz and
-Granada. The effect of this landscape, all in low tones, upon natives
-of the green lands of America and England, is most depressing. The soil
-itself is red, and the grass grows so sparsely that the color of the
-ground crops up, giving impression of general sun-blight, broken here
-and there by the glimmering moonlight gray of an olive orchard, or
-the dark-green of an orange garden. The huts of the farmers are built
-of the red clay; the clothing of the population appears to be of the
-undyed wool of the brown sheep, while to add to the prevailing russet
-hue, the general occupation seems to be that of herding pigs on the
-plains--and the pigs are hideously brown also. It is said that they
-derive their color from feeding on the great brown bug, or beetle,
-which abounds in the soil. The traveller counts these feeding droves by
-the dozen, each with two lazy, smoking swineherds.
-
-Travelling by rail over the Andalusian levels, one passes a succession
-of petty stations, villages of half a dozen houses each, where the only
-visible business appears to be in the hands of women, in the shape of
-one or two open-air tables, with pitchers and glasses, and a cow or
-goat tethered near in order to supply travellers, as the trains stop,
-with drinks of fresh milk.
-
-[Illustration]
-
-
-Many of the public buildings of Spanish cities stand as they were
-captured from the Moors. Sometimes, as in Cadiz, the town has received
-a coat of whitewash; but more frequently the only Spanish additions and
-improvements are a few crosses inlaid in the old cement, or a plaster
-Virgin niched, in rude contrast, beside some richly wrought Moorish
-door of horseshoe form. The town hall of Seville remains to-day as ten
-centuries ago.
-
-The Spanish towns lie, for the most part, in the valley. The Moors
-usually chose the site for their cities with a view to the natural
-defences of mountain and river. The hills of course, remain, but the
-rivers, once full rushing tides, are now dried into stagnant shallow
-waters, a natural result in a country long uncultivated.
-
-A favorite business with the young men among the mountain peasants is
-the breeding of poultry; not alone of fat pullets for the Christmas
-markets--that is a minor interest so far as enjoyment goes--but of
-choice young game cocks--cock-fighting being the staple, everyday
-national amusement, while the bullfight is to be regarded as fête and
-festival--“the taste of blood” is a welcome ingredient in any Spanish
-pleasure. All poultry is taken to market alive; the pullets, hanging
-head downwards, are slung in a bunch at the saddle bow, and the cocks
-are carried carefully in cages. Fowls are not a common article of food,
-as in France, but are, instead, a holiday luxury, and the costliest
-meat in the market.
-
-Looking idly abroad as he crosses the Andalusian plains, the tourist
-on donkey-back notices the queer carts that take passengers from
-one station to another. These odd omnibuses are but rude carts,
-two-wheeled, and covered with coarse mats of pampas grass, and they
-are drawn by two, three, four or five donkeys harnessed tandem. On
-the rough, movable seats, gentlemen in broadcloth, and common folk
-with laced canvas shoes and peasant-bags, huddle together, all eating
-from the garlic-pots as they are passed, and drinking from the same
-wine-skin; this good fellowship of travellers is one of the unwritten
-laws of Spain. Meantime the sauntering boys of the roadside hop up
-on the cart behind with the identical vagrant joy experienced by the
-American urchin after a like achievement.
-
-[Illustration]
-
-
-You never can be sure when a Spaniard will arrive. Due at noon,
-should he meet a guitar, he comes at nightfall; and as it is certain
-that every second Spaniard, walking or riding, will have his guitar
-along, it is best not to look for the return of any messenger before
-evening. He may have chosen to alight from his donkey and dance an
-hour, or he may have elected to sit still and clap and snap a dance in
-pantomime--either is exciting and deeply satisfactory--and a fulfilment
-of one of the obligations of daily life which no true Spaniard can
-be expected to neglect for any such simple considerations as promise
-given, command laid, or bargain made.
-
-A peculiarly gloomy look is lent to the Spanish landscape by the
-cypress, sometimes growing in groups, sometimes towering singly in
-solitude. This tree, funereal in its best aspect, has a dead, dry,
-white trunk, and the branches begin at a height of twenty, thirty, or
-forty feet, and then drape themselves in a cone-like monumental mass
-of purplish green. These gloomy evergreens are common, and the tourist
-feels, even if he does not note, the absence of the lively sunny
-greens of American and French landscapes, with the bowery shadows that
-everywhere invite the wayfarer to stop and rest.
-
-The Bergh Societies would find ample range for work in Spain, for the
-beating and prodding of the donkey is one of the national occupations.
-As a rule, poor Burro is overloaded. A whole family will frequently
-come down into the city on his back, and tired though he be with
-plodding and stumbling and holding back, the officer at the gate is
-sure to give him a blow and a bruise with his bludgeon of authority as
-he passes in; and the poor creature sometimes very justly lies down
-in the street and dies without warning, allowing his owners to climb
-homeward on foot.
-
-Now and then one comes unexpectedly on an example of ancient enterprise
-put to use. There are spots in the brown waste which are green and
-fertile, because the old irrigating wells have been cleaned out and set
-in motion--a pair of wheels studded with great cups operated by means
-of a pair of poles, and a pair of donkeys, and a pair of drivers. The
-land is cut in ditches, and often the farmer can be seen hoeing his
-garlic and his cabbages while he stands in water ankle-deep.
-
-[Illustration]
-
-
-Greatly dreaded by the unmarried young Spanish woman is the Beggars’
-Curse; and a goodly portion of the beggars’ revenue is ensured by
-this superstitious national fear. The more vicious of the fraternity
-keep good watch upon the wealthy young señoritas and their cavaliers
-when they go out for pleasure. They do not follow them, perhaps;
-instead they take up their stations around the doors of those
-restaurants--whence they never are driven--where ladies and their
-escorts are wont to stop for chocolate, or coffee, or _aguardente_,
-on their return from calls or the theatre, or the Bull Ring. As the
-pair are departing, the burly beggar approaches, half barring the
-way perhaps, and asks for alms. It is usually bestowed; but he begs
-insolently for more; and if it be not forthcoming, a bony and rosaried
-arm is raised, “the evil eye” is fastened upon the doomed ones, and
-the Beggars’ Curse--the Curse of the Unfortunate--which all Spaniards
-dread, is threatened; and if it be evening, it is quite probable that
-the group stand near some crucifix of the suffering Saviour, with the
-red light of the street lantern shining down upon its ghastliness, so
-that the feeling of pious dread is greatly heightened, and a frightened
-pressure on the cavalier’s arm carries the doubled alms into the
-outstretched hand.
-
-The dress of Spanish people of fashion is singularly artistic and
-pleasing. Although Paris styles are now followed by the señoritas, they
-still cling to the national black satin with its lustrous foldings and
-flouncings, to the effective ball fringes, and to the mantilla, draping
-face and shoulder with its heavy black or white laces, the national red
-rose set just above the ear. Nor is this too remarkable under the high
-broad lights of the Spanish sky, though it might seen theatrical in our
-cold, harsh, Northern atmosphere. The dress of the Spanish gentlemen
-is as picturesque. The hat is usually a curious, double-brimmed silky
-beaver, while the cloak is most artistic in color and in drapery. This
-cloak, lasting a life-time, is of fine broadcloth, lined with heavy
-blue or crimson velvet; and it is so disposed that the folding brings
-this gorgeous lining in a round collar about the neck, while another
-broad fold is turned over upon the whole long left side of the garment.
-The peasant’s cloak, of the same cut, is lined with red flannel, but it
-is often worn as gracefully. Long trousers are becoming general, but
-in some districts the tight pantaloon, slashed at the knee, is still
-seen, with its gay garter embroidered with some fanciful motto. One
-just brought from Spain bears this legend: _There is a girl in this
-town--with her love she kills me._
-
-[Illustration: WHAT THEY ALL FEAR--THE BEGGAR’S CURSE.
-MORE! SEÑORITA. MORE!]
-
-
-Southern Spain is so mountainous that herding naturally becomes the
-occupation of the peasantry, rather than tillage. Great flocks of goats
-browse and frolic among the rocky heights and along the steep ravines
-where it seems hardly possible for the tiny hoofs to keep foothold;
-and the traveller often beholds far above him dozens of these bounding
-creatures, leaping down the cliffs to drink at the valley streams. They
-are generally followed, at the same fearless pace, by a short-frocked
-shepherdess as sure-footed as they. Her rough, hempen-soled shoe,
-however, yields her excellent support, being flexible and not slippery,
-like boot-leather.
-
-Along the narrow mountain highways, the traveller frequently comes upon
-little booths built in among the cliffy recesses, like quaint pantries
-hewn in the rock. Melons, and grapes, and garlic, and oranges in nets,
-hang against the wall, and the heavy red wine of the country is for
-sale by the glass, also goat’s milk.
-
-Farming processes go on at all times of year in Spain. Subsistence is
-a matter comparatively independent of care and calculation. Crops may
-be sown at any time. The whole year round the peasant lights no fire in
-his earthen, bowl-like hut of one room. He cooks outside his door, in
-gypsy fashion. His furniture consists of some rude wool mattresses, a
-table, and some stools with low backs. A few bowls, plates, and knives
-and forks suffice to set his table. A kettle and a garlic pot comprise
-his cooking utensils. Frequently he and his family are to be seen at
-meals, leaning their elbows on the table in company, and sipping like
-so many cats, from the huge platter of hot garlic soup, crumbling their
-slices of coarse black bread, as they need. In contrast with this crude
-bread of the common people, are the long, fine, sweet white loaves to
-be had at the Seville bakeries--a bread so cake-like, so delicious,
-as to require no butter, even with Americans accustomed to the use of
-butter with every meal. The salted butter of American creameries, made
-to keep for months, is wholly unknown in Spain, Spanish butter being a
-soft mass, and always eaten unsalted. But with his strong garlic and
-his fine fragrant tobacco, the Spaniard hardly demands or appreciates
-the refinements of food, and his tobacco is of the best, coming from
-the Spanish plantations in Cuba, and is very cheap, as it enters the
-country free of duties.
-
-[Illustration: SUNNY SPAIN: Sewing and Reaping in Winter]
-
-
-Housework, among the sun-basking, siesta-loving Spaniards, seems to
-be not the formidable, systematic matter that it is made in America.
-Washing, as well as cookery, is of simplest form. “Blue Monday” does
-not follow Sunday in Spain. A necessary garment is washed when needed;
-superfluous ones are allowed to accumulate until it is worth while to
-give a day to the task. Then, among the peasants, “the washing” is
-carried to a mountain torrent, and the garments are rubbed and rinsed
-in the swift waters, while picnic fun makes the labor agreeable, as
-often several families wash in company. Among townspeople, the work
-is done in great stone tubs in the patio, or in the water-cellar.
-There the goods, repeatedly wetted, are laid upon a big stone table
-and beaten with flat wooden paddles. The snowy array of the American
-clothes-line is seldom seen. The washed garments are hung upon the table
-edges, and held fast by stones or other weights until dried.
-
-A frequent incident in mountain travel is the sight of some stout lazy
-peasant away up the heights, holding fast by his donkey’s tail to help
-himself along as the poor creature scrambles up the zigzag steeps. At
-the base and along the face of these rocks cacti grow abundantly, often
-presenting a beautiful cliff-side of cacti fifty feet high.
-
-Another sight, not so agreeable, along many a Spanish roadside, is that
-of the ancient wooden crosses, erected on the sites where travellers
-have been murdered by banditti. These roads are often desolate and
-dreary beyond description, unfenced, seldom travelled, and set with the
-constantly recurring stones of the Moorish road-makers. Leading across
-brown, treeless wastes, with habitations far apart, both peasant and
-tourist would easily wander from these roads, were it not for those
-rude mile-stones, which are often the only guide-posts and land-marks.
-When a fence is required, a hedge of aloe is usually started.
-
-Spanish children chew sugar-cane as American children munch candy. The
-cane is brought from Cuba and is sold everywhere; carried about by
-venders in big bundles of handy lengths, to capture all stray centimos.
-
-Not so well patronized is the street dealer in soap--“old Castile”
-soap--for this business is recognized to be a form of beggary, and
-though bargains are made and money paid, the soap is seldom carried
-away by the purchaser.
-
-[Illustration]
-
-
-Every male Spaniard is obliged to render three years of military
-service; but usually this is no severe hardship, and loving his ease,
-he leaves home cheerily enough. The government is rather embarrassed
-than served, in the matter of stationing this soldiery, especially
-since the close of the Carlist War. The conscripts are set to guard
-the palaces, the parks, the national buildings; they are sent to Cuba
-and elsewhere, whenever it is possible, in fact all opportunities and
-pretexts are seized to set up a soldier on duty, or rather a pair of
-them, as two are usually to be seen together. Leave of absence is
-easily obtained, and but few days of actual presence and service are
-required during the third year. However, the military requirements by
-the government never relax, as “insurrections” are indigenous to the
-country and climate.
-
-As the ancient Moorish doors are still frequent, so is the old form of
-knock and admission. The arrival raps smartly at the small door set
-within the great nail-studded gate. Presently an eye, a face, appears
-at the little wicket window to reconnoitre, to question. Should the
-examination reveal nothing dangerous or disagreeable, the latch-string
-is pulled, and entrance is permitted.
-
-“Burro” must needs appear in all Spanish picture and story, for he
-is prominent in all Spanish folk-life. He is to be seen everywhere,
-with his rude harness tufted with gay woollens, and big brass nails,
-moving over the landscape in town or country--the helpless slave and
-abused burden-bearer, seldom petted, even by the children of the
-family. There are very handsome mules in Madrid and a few elsewhere;
-but the donkey is the national carrier. He is small, brown, brave,
-and always bruised. The Spaniards’ “Get up!” is a brutal blow between
-the eyes. He is seldom stabled, seldom decently fed. He is tethered
-anywhere--under the grapevine, by the door, among the rocks, but always
-at his master’s convenience; and his food is in matter and manner best
-known to himself. His harness is heavy and uncomfortable, and his hair
-is clipped close on his back where he needs protection most from the
-burning sun. This clipping is usually done at the blacksmith’s, by a
-professional clipper, and is a sight of interest to the lazy populace.
-Under the great shears Burro’s body is often decorated with half
-moons, eyes, monograms, garlands--whatever the fancy of his master, or
-the clipper, or the bystander may direct. Poor Burro! from first to
-last--poor Burro!
-
-[Illustration: A DECORATIVE ARTIST.]
-
-
-In Cordova, a sudden stir in the street often betokens “The Return from
-the Chase”--not, however, the picturesque scattering of the “meet”
-after an English fox-hunt, but the arrival home of some solitary mule
-and rider, with a pack of harriers. The huntsman has been riding across
-country all by himself, his cigarette, and his dogs, to ferret out
-some luckless colony of hares in a distant olive orchard. The rabbits
-are very mischievous in the young olive plantations, and the huntsman
-and his pack are warmly welcomed by the olive-growers. These Spanish
-harriers are a keen-nosed race of dogs; quite as good hunters as the
-English fox-hounds. Nearly every breed of dog is found in Spain,
-except, perhaps, the Newfoundland. In most Spanish cities the dogs are
-one of the early morning sights as they gather in snarling, quarrelsome
-packs of from fifteen to twenty, before the doors of the hotels and
-restaurants, to devour the daily kitchen refuse--a very disagreeable
-spectacle; but there seems to be no other street-cleaning machinery.
-
-The chief streets of a Spanish town are usually thronged with
-fruit-sellers, especially the Plaza, where the great portion of the
-population seems to congregate to lounge and sleep in the sun all day
-long, naturally waking now and then to crave an orange, a palmete, or
-a pomegranate--“regular meals” appearing to be a regulation of daily
-life quite unknown. These fruit sellers are girls, for the most part,
-though sometimes there may be seen some old man who has not been able
-to procure a beggar’s license. Oranges are always plenty. Palmetes, a
-tender, bulbous growth, half vegetable, half fruit, are brought into
-the city in January, and are consumed largely by the peasants and
-beggars, who strip them into sections, chewing them for their rather
-insipid sweetish juices.
-
-The Spanish peasant cooks out-of-doors, like a gypsy. Often his kettle
-is his only “stove furniture;” in it he stews, boils, fries and bakes.
-Even in January, the cold month in Spain, he makes no change in his
-housekeeping. The peasants’ daily bread is hardly bread at all, but
-rather a pudding, a batter of coarse flour, water and garlic, stirred,
-and boiled, and half baked in his kettle, and then pressed into a jar.
-This “garlic pot” he always carries about with him in his shoulder bag.
-In the patio apartments of some of the ancient, Moorish-built houses
-there are quaint arches with stone ovens, which are sometimes utilized
-for cookery.
-
-[Illustration]
-
-
-A drunken Spaniard is rarely seen, although the “wine-skin” keeps
-constant company with the “garlic pot” in the peasant’s bag. The heavy
-red wine of the country is used as freely as water, being sold for
-four cents a wine-skin; this wine-skin holds a quart or more. Not
-to drink with the skin held at arms-length, is to be not Spanish,
-but French--their generic name for a foreigner or stranger. Fine and
-delicate wines are made in the neighborhood of some of the great
-vineyards, but they are chiefly for exportation.
-
-There is a popular saying, that Spanish ladies dress their hair but
-once a week. This is on Sunday, when they meet on one another’s
-balconies to chat and gossip while their maids arrange their coiffures,
-each maid taking care that she pat, and pull, and puff until her
-mistress be taller than her friends, for height is a Spanish requisite
-for beauty and style. Certain it is that the tourist sometimes looks
-up and beholds this leisurely out-of-doors toilet-making. The glossy
-black hair is universal, a fair-haired woman becoming an occasion for
-persistent stares, although Murillo, in his time, seems to have found
-plenty of red-haired Spanish blondes to paint. Happy is the gazing
-traveller if he also may listen; for the music of a high-bred Spanish
-woman’s voice is remarkable, holding in its flow, sometimes, the tones
-of a guitar, and the liquid sounds of dropping water.
-
-Spanish urchins are as noted for never combing their hair as Italian
-boys are for never washing their faces. The change of the yellow
-handkerchief dotted with big white eyes, which they knot about their
-heads and wear day and night, seems to be the only attention they think
-needful ever to bestow upon their raven locks.
-
-That Spanish peasant is very poor and unthrifty indeed, who does not
-contrive to own a foot or two of land upon which to grow a choice
-Malaga grapevine. Owning the vines, he erects an out-of-door cellar to
-preserve his crop--a simple arbor, upon the slats of which he suspends
-his clusters for winter use. Hanging all winter in the current of wind,
-the bunches of pale-green grapes may be taken down as late as February,
-and still be found as plump and delicious and as full of flavor as
-when hung. It is in this simple manner that they are preserved for the
-holiday markets.
-
-[Illustration]
-
-
-One of the most picturesque features of natural scenery which the
-traveller comes upon in Southern Spain, is that of the olive orchards,
-especially those which cluster about Cordova. As the time of harvest
-draws near, the coloring of these orchards is particularly pleasing.
-The ripening fruit varies in tint, from vivid greens to gay reds and
-lovely purples, while the foliage, of willow-leaf shape, restless and
-quivering, is of a tender, shimmering, greenish gray, and the trunks
-often have a solemn and aged aspect. Many of these plantations are
-very ancient indeed, planted perhaps by the grandsires of the present
-owners. They are usually a source of much profit, as the best eating
-olives are those grown in Spain, and though the trees come into bearing
-late, there are orchards which have been known to yield fruit for
-centuries.
-
-Each orchard has a guard, or watchman, who tends it the year round, for
-the pruning, the tillage, and the watch upon the ripening fruit, demand
-constant care. In the harvest season the watch is by night as well as
-by day, for a vigorous shake of the branches will dislodge almost every
-berry, and a thief, with his donkeys and his panniers, might easily and
-almost noiselessly strip an entire orchard in a few hours. The olive
-guard lives in a hut of thatch or grass in summer, and in a sort of
-cave, or burrow, in winter.
-
-The crop is mainly harvested by girls and women, and the scene is like
-a picnic all day long, for Spanish girls turn all their labors into
-merry-making whenever it is possible to do so. The gray orchards are
-lighted up with the rainbowy colors of the peasant costumes, and the
-air is musical with the donkey bells, while the overseer, prone on the
-ground with his cigarette, “loafs and invites his soul,” evidently
-finding great delight in the double drudgery he controls--that of the
-donkeys and the damsels.
-
-In regard to the great age of olive-trees, a recent writer says:
-“When raised from seed it rarely bears fruit under fifty years, and
-when propagated in other ways it requires at least from twenty to
-twenty-five years. But, on the other hand, it lives for centuries.
-The monster olive at Beaulieu, near Nice, is supposed by Risso to be
-a thousand years old. Its trunk at four feet from the ground has a
-circumference of twenty-three feet, and it is said to have yielded,
-five hundred pounds of oil in a single year.”
-
-[Illustration]
-
-
-Cordova, lying in the beautiful valley of the Guadalquiver, surrounded
-with gardens and villas, is well named the city of Age, Mellowness, and
-Tranquility. It abounds with antiquities, and at every turn memories
-are awakened of old Roman emperors, and the Arabian caliphs; the gates,
-the sculptures, the towers, the mullioned windows and nail-studded
-doors, the galleried houses and their beautiful patios fitted for idle
-life in the soft Andalusian weather, the mosques and the great bridges
-are all of those times. Even the streets are named after the old Roman
-and Spanish scholars and poets.
-
-The large bridge over the Guadalquiver was originally built by the
-Roman Emperor, Octavius Augustus; it was afterwards remodelled by the
-Arabs. The gate is very fine which leads into the gypsy quarter. The
-Moors had three thousand baths on the banks of the river, but in their
-day it was a full shining tide; now it is a muddy current, hardly in
-need of bridging at all.
-
-The mosques of Cordova are fine, and among them is the greatest Moslem
-temple in the world, with its beautiful chapels, its Court of Oranges,
-and its wondrous grove of marbles. This mosque, now used for Christian
-worship, was erected on the ruins of an old cathedral, which it is said
-had been built upon the site of a Roman temple. The Moslem structure
-was erected by the Caliph Abdurrahman, in the seventh century, and was
-a hundred years in building. The principal entrance is through the
-Court of Oranges, where beautiful palms also grow, and other tropical
-trees. Thence one emerges among a very forest of marble pillars, where
-countless magnificent naves stretch away and intersect, and the shining
-columns and pilasters spring upward into delicate double horseshoe
-arches. One marble is shown where a Christian captive, chained at
-its base, scratched a cross upon the stone with his nails. In some
-sections the ceiling is dazzling with arabesques and crystals. Within
-the mosque, in its very centre, rises a fine Catholic church, built in
-the time of Charles the Fifth. It contains many illuminated missals and
-rare old choir books.
-
-The Cordovans, like the people of other Spanish cities, are indebted
-to the Moors for the fine aqueducts which bring the cold mountain
-water across the valley into the public watering places. These great
-reservoirs are good points for observing some phases of folk-life.
-
-[Illustration]
-
-
-Granada, the beautiful city, with beautiful rivers, is named for a
-“grenade” or pomegranate. At the time of the Conquest, King Ferdinand
-on being assured how valiantly the Moors would defend their last
-stronghold, replied, “I will pick out the seeds of this grenade one by
-one.”
-
-There is a tradition among the Moors that when the hand carved over the
-principal entrance of the Alhambra shall reach down and grasp the key,
-also carved there, they shall regain their city, the ancient home of
-their caliphs.
-
-The Generalife lies across the valley from the Alhambra. It was the
-summer palace of the Moorish sovereigns, and is built on a mountain
-slope by the Darro River, and its white walls gleam out from lovely
-terraced gardens, and groves of laurel. The grounds abound with
-fountains and summer houses.
-
-The Alhambra--the great royal castle--a town in itself--is built on a
-lovely tree-embowered height, its many towers rising high above the
-mass of foliage. From these towers one looks across the vale of the
-Vega to the spot where Columbus is said to have turned back, recalled
-by Isabella, on his way to seek English aid in his discovery of a New
-World. From these towers, too, can be seen the valley in the distance,
-where Boabdil, last of the Moorish Kings, looked back on Granada for
-the last time; and across the river, one gazes upon the sombre region
-of the gypsy quarter, a swarming town of caves in the hillside.
-
-Two relics of Alhambra housekeeping still remain; a great oven, and a
-fine well. Both are utilized by the custodian of the palace. The palace
-itself has many beautiful patios. The finest is known as the Court of
-Lions, named from the sculptured figures which support the fountain in
-the centre. Another is known sometimes as the Court of the Lake, and
-sometimes as the Court of the Myrtles; and still another, entered by
-subterranean ways, is the Hall of Divans, the special retreat of the
-Favorites. There are many others, and all these patios and halls are
-bewilderingly beautiful with arabesques, mosaics, inscriptions and
-wondrous arches and columns, porticos, vistas, alcoves and temples--and
-everywhere elegance of effect indescribable.
-
-[Illustration]
-
-
-At Granada, whenever it is desired, the proprietor of the Washington
-Irving Hotel will engage the Gypsy King to come with his daughters and
-dance the national dance at the house of one of the guides. This dance
-is a most wild and weird performance. There is an incessant clapping of
-hands and clatter of castañets, a sharp stamping of heels, an agonized
-swaying of the body and the arms; and often the castañets and guitar
-are accompanied by a wild and mournful wail from the dancers. The king
-of the Granada gypsies is said to be the best guitar player in Spain.
-
-The climb from the city up to the vast Gypsy Quarter, known as the
-suburb of the Albaycin, is an adventure of a nightmare sort. The
-squalor and horror of the life to be witnessed on the way up along
-narrow streets swarming with the weirdest and dirtiest of brown
-beggars, may not be painted, may not be written; yet now and then one
-goes under a superb Arab arch, passes a door rich with arabesques, or
-comes upon a group of elegant columns supporting a roof of mud and
-rock. The long hillside seems honeycombed with the denlike habitations
-of the gitanos, many of whom, among the men, are blacksmiths, while
-others work at pottery, turning out very handsome plates and water
-jars, while the women weave cloth, and do a rude kind of embroidery,
-all selling their wares in the streets--in fact the spinning and
-weaving and sewing is often carried on in the street itself.
-
-But the little ones too (_las niñas_) add largely to the family income,
-as they dance for the visitor; the traveller and his guide being
-always invited to enter the caves. These gypsy children dance with
-much spirit, and they also sing many beautiful old ballads of Spanish
-prowess. The most beautiful ones among the girls are early trained to
-practice fortune-telling.
-
-With their dances, their songs, their fortune-telling, their
-importunate, imperious begging, and their rude industries, these
-Granada gypsies live here from century to century, in swarms of
-thousands, never attempting to improve their condition, but boasting,
-instead, of the comfort of their dismal caves as being cool in summer
-and warm in winter. It is plain that they consider themselves and their
-Quarter “a part of the show,” and hardly second in interest to the
-Alhambra itself.
-
-[Illustration]
-
-
-Hardly is there a Spanish town of note, that does not possess its great
-Bull Ring; and there are scores of inferior Bull Circuses throughout
-Spain. There is but a slight public sentiment against the brutal sport
-which is the favorite Sunday recreation of the whole nation. Spanish
-kings and queens for many centuries have sat in the royal boxes to
-applaud, and many of the Spanish noblemen of the present time breed
-choice fighting bulls on their farms, and there is the same mad
-admiration of the agile, skilful _espado_ or bull slayer, as a hundred
-years ago. To be a fine _picador_ or _banderillo_, is to be sure of the
-praise and the presents of the entire populace. Men, women and children
-go; the amphitheatre is always crowded and always the crowd will sit
-breathless and happy to see six or eight bulls killed, and three times
-that count of horses--the rich and the nobles on the shady side under
-the awnings, the peasants sweltering and burning in the sun. It is the
-_picador_ who rides on horseback to invite with his lance the attacks
-of the bull as he enters the arena; it is the _capeador_ who springs
-into the arena with his cloak of maddening red or yellow, to distract
-the bull’s attention from the fallen horseman; it is the _banderillo_
-who taunts the wounded creature with metal-tipped arrows, the barbs
-of which cannot be extracted, or with his long pole leaps tauntingly
-over the back of the confused creature; but it is the gorgeous _espado_
-with his sword, entering the arena, at last, who draws all eyes. With
-his red flag he plays with the bull as a cat with the mouse, until the
-amphitheatre is mad for life blood; then with a swift, graceful stroke
-he ends all, his superb foe lies dead, and he turns from him to meet
-the wild shower of hats, cigars, flowers, fans, purses that beats upon
-him from all sides--it is a scene of unimaginable exultation, for there
-are glad cries and plaudits, and royalty itself throws the bull-slayer
-a golden purse and a pleased smile, and the beautiful Spanish señoritas
-lavish upon him the most bewildering attentions.
-
-The Spanish boy is born with a thirst for this sport. Their favorite
-game is _Toro_. One lad mounts on his fellow’s back to take the part of
-the _picador_ and his horse; another, with horns of sticks, represents
-the bull; and the rest are _capeadors_, _banderillos_, and _escodas_,
-while the audience of adult loungers look on with fierce excitement. It
-is in this fierce, popular street sport that the future champions of
-the Bull Ring are trained and developed--to be an _escoda_ is usually
-the height of a Spanish boy’s ambition.
-
-[Illustration]
-
-
-Nowhere in Spain are you refreshed with the restful sound of water,
-sometimes soft, sometimes gay, as in Granada. You hear the flow of the
-Darro over its stones and rocks, you hear the splash of fountains, the
-gay hurry of mountain brooks, the soft sound of springs--everywhere
-flow, or gurgle, or drip. You hear it on the tree-bordered and bowered
-Alameda in your moonlit walks, and you hear it through the windows
-of your _fonda_, or hotel, when you wake. It is everywhere about the
-Alhambra heights, and the Generalife terraces. The Spaniards call this
-continuous water-sound, “The Sigh of the Moor.”
-
-Most of the young Spanish women as well as the men, are accomplished
-guitar-players. The guitar belongs in story to the Señorita, along
-with her mantilla and her fan. It usually hangs on her casement, brave
-with ribbons and gay wool tufts and all manner of decorations, and by
-moonlight she will come out upon the balcony to answer her cavelier’s
-serenade with a song as sweet as his own. You feel the atmosphere of
-the Spanish night vibrating all about you, as you stroll along the
-moonlit street, with the low, soft, delicate twinkle of a hundred
-guitars, the players half-hidden in the dim patio balconies.
-
-It is often the custom to drive the goats from door to door to be
-milked, and often an accustomed goat, tinkling its bells, will go
-along the street, stopping of its own will and knowledge at the doors
-of its customers, and knocking smartly with its horns should no one
-appear. The servant of the house comes out into the street and milks
-the desired quantity, while the “milkman” lounges near by with his
-cigarette.
-
-Often it is as amusing to watch the dogs of the beggars by the churches
-as the men themselves. While the noble _Caballeros_, Don Miguel and
-Don Pedro, exhausted with the saying of prayers and the much asking of
-centimos, have fallen asleep in the shade, their respective dogs remain
-awake to glare at each other with true professional jealousy, and to
-growl and snap, should a chance stranger drop a coin in one hat and not
-in the other. The beggar is the last sight, as well as the first, which
-greets the traveler in Spain.
-
-[Illustration]
-
-[Illustration]
-
-
-
-
-QUEEN LOUISA AND THE CHILDREN.
-
-BY MARY STUART SMITH.
-
-
-Queen Louisa of Prussia was the mother of William I., Emperor of
-Germany, and although she has been dead over sixty years her one
-hundredth birthday was celebrated elaborately throughout her son’s
-dominions, with almost as many rejoicings as we made here over the one
-hundredth birthday of these United States.
-
-[Illustration: QUEEN LOUISA.]
-
-When a child Louisa was very beautiful, and as she grew up did not
-disappoint the promise of those early days.
-
-She was married to Frederick William, Crown Prince of Prussia, when
-only seventeen years of age, and brought down upon herself a sharp
-rebuke from the proud mistress of ceremonies for the love she showed
-to a little child as she was making her public entry into Berlin,
-preparatory to the solmnization of her marriage. It happened thus:
-
-The streets were thronged with people who had come to catch a glimpse
-of the fair young bride, while every now and then select persons would
-step forward and present complimentary poems of welcome, or some
-pretty gift. A sweet little girl advanced to give the queen a bunch of
-flowers, and Louisa was so struck with the child’s loveliness that she
-stooped down and kissed her on the forehead. “Mein Gott!” exclaimed the
-horrified mistress of ceremonies. “What has your majesty done?” Louisa
-was as artless and simple as a child herself. “What?” said she, “is
-that wrong? Must I never do so again?”
-
-But the prince, her husband, was no fonder of show and ceremony than
-herself, and asserted manfully the right of his wife and himself to act
-like other affectionate people, in spite of being king and queen.
-
-This royal pair had eight children, and upon these children was
-lavished every care and attention. It is said that every night the king
-and queen went together to visit their sleeping children after they had
-been put into their little beds, and many a time were they surprised
-by a bright pair of wide-awake eyes smiling back upon them a look of
-love in return. Queen Louisa used to say, “The children’s world is my
-world,” nor were the little creatures slow to reciprocate the love she
-gave.
-
-You know Christmas is observed in Germany with peculiar reverence,
-and is a season set apart for mirthful recreation among all classes,
-but more especially for the enjoyment of children. Berlin is gay with
-Christmas trees and a brilliant array of toys etc., for at least a week
-beforehand.
-
-Like other parents the king and queen found delight in preparing
-pleasant surprises for their little ones. While engaged in choosing
-presents for them, on one occasion they entered a top-shop where
-a citizen’s wife was busy making purchases, but recognizing the
-new-comers she bowed respectfully and retired. The queen addressed
-her in her peculiarly winning way and sweet voice. “Stop, dear lady,
-what will the stall-keeper say if we drive away his customers?” She
-then inquired if the lady had come to buy toys for her children, and
-asked how many little ones she had. Hearing there was a son about the
-age of the Crown Prince, the queen bought some toys and gave them to
-the mother, saying, “Take them, dear lady, and give them to your crown
-prince in the name of mine.”
-
-But I must tell you a yet prettier story, showing the queen’s fondness
-for making children happy.
-
-There lived in Berlin a father and mother, who from some cause were so
-poor, and low-spirited besides, that when the holiday came which all
-children love best, they quietly resigned themselves to having nothing
-to give their little ones. What can be more sad than a house which
-no Kriss Kringle visits? Just think of it! They told their children
-that there was to be no Christmas tree for them this year. The little
-boy and his sister had been led to believe that the _Christ-kind_ or
-Christ-child provides the tree and the gifts which are placed on tables
-round it; only ornaments, sweets and tapers are hung upon the branches.
-Under this disappointment the children, in the innocent simplicity of
-their faith, sought the aid of the good _Christ-kind_ in their own way.
-
-Christmas Eve came, and the poor troubled parents looked on with wonder
-as they beheld their children hopping and skipping about with joy,
-although they were to be the only children for whom no Christmas tree
-would be lighted, nor pretty gifts provided. Still in high spirits they
-watched at the window, and clapped their hands when the door-bell rang,
-exclaiming: “Here it comes!” The door was opened and a man-servant
-appeared, laden with a gay tree and several packets, each addressed to
-some member of the family.
-
-“There must be some mistake!” said the mother.
-
-“No, no!” cried the boy, “it is all right. I wrote to the good
-_Christ-kind_, and told him what we wanted, and that you could not buy
-anything this year.”
-
-The parents enjoyed the evening with their children and afterwards
-unravelled the mystery. The postmaster, astonished by a letter
-evidently written by a very young scribe and addressed to the
-_Christ-kind_, had sent it to the palace with a respectful inquiry
-as to what should be done with a letter so strangely directed. Queen
-Louisa read it and, as a handmaid of the _Christ-kind_, she answered
-his little children.[1]
-
-[1] Mrs. Hudson’s Life of Queen Louisa.
-
-Louisa’s sympathies were ever ready to flow for the sorrows of
-childhood, which so many grown people will not stoop to even notice.
-
-One day as the king and queen were entering a town, a band of young
-girls came forward to strew flowers and to present a nosegay. Her
-majesty inquired how many little girls there were. “Nineteen,” replied
-the artless child; “there would have been twenty of us but one was sent
-back home because she was too ugly.”
-
-The kind queen feeling for the child’s mortification sent for her
-and requested that she might by all means be allowed to join in the
-festivities of the day.
-
-Nor did Louisa slight the boys.
-
-She was one day walking in the streets of Charlottenburg, attended
-by a lady-in-waiting; a number of boys were running and tumbling and
-playing somewhat rudely, and one of them ran up against the queen. Her
-lady reproved him sharply, and the little fellow looked frightened
-and abashed. The queen patted his rosy cheek, saying: “Boys will be a
-little wild; never mind, my dear boy, I am not angry.” She then asked
-his name and bade him give her compliments to his mother. The child
-knew who the lady was, and besides having the pleasant memory of her
-gracious speech and looks received a lesson in politeness which he
-never forgot.
-
-Sometimes the royal children were allowed to have a party, and this
-indulgence young princes and princesses enjoy just as much as other
-juveniles. A queer anecdote is told of the only daughter of the famous
-Madame de Stael, in relation to one of these entertainments.
-
-The little lady was about ten years of age, but had already imbibed
-many opinions and prejudices. At all events she had a high idea of her
-own importance, and was totally wanting in respect for her superiors in
-rank. She was apt to be very rude in her manners and in her remarks.
-On this occasion she took offence at something which the little Crown
-Prince said or did to her, and very coolly gave him a sharp box on the
-ear, upon which he ran crying to his mother and hid his face in the
-folds of her dress. As mademoiselle, when remonstrated with, showed
-not a particle of concern, and refused to say she was sorry, she was
-not invited again, and her learned mamma found that she must keep her
-daughter at home until she taught her better manners.[2]
-
-[2] Sir George Jackson.
-
-The annual fair at Paretz, the king’s beloved country home, took place
-during the merry harvest-time. A number of booths were then put up near
-the village, and besides buying and selling there was a great deal or
-dancing and singing going on, and all sorts of games and sports. It was
-then that the wheel of fortune was turned for the children’s lottery.
-Lots of cakes and fruit were set round in order, which were given away
-according to the movements of a pointer, turned by the wheel.
-
-Queen Louisa encouraged the children to crowd around her on these
-occasions; she could not bear to see them afraid of her, and placed
-herself beside the wheel, in order to secure fair play and to watch
-carefully that she might make some amends for the unkindness of
-fortune. She had her own ample store of good things which she dispensed
-among the unlucky children, many of whom thought more of the sweet
-words and looks of the queen than of anything else she could give
-them. Moreover she was glad to have a chance of leading even one of
-her little subjects to be generous and self-denying. For, while she
-liked to see them all happy, she at the same time interested herself in
-giving pleasantly little hints as to conduct that might be of lasting
-benefit.
-
-All her life Queen Louisa watched beside the wheel in a higher sense.
-She overlooked the whole circle of which she was the centre, anxiously
-seeking to hold out a helping hand to any whom she saw likely to be
-ruined by losses in the great lottery of real life.
-
-Is it matter for wonder then that German children still cherish her
-memory, and delight to place flowers upon vase or tomb that bears her
-name?
-
-[Illustration]
-
-
-
-
-THE PLAYTHING OF AN EMPRESS.
-
-BY M. S. P.
-
-
-Doubtless the readers of GRAMMAR SCHOOL have heard it said that “Men
-and Women are only children of a larger growth.” No matter how stately
-the grand ladies that we often meet with may appear, you may be very
-sure that they sometimes envy the pleasures of children, who have no
-thoughts about fine houses and servants, and a hundred other cares.
-Even wearing a crown does not bring happiness; the dignity it entails
-often becomes burdensome.
-
-Once a young prince, who had everything that he could possibly want
-given him,--books, jewels, playthings of inconceivable variety, horses
-and dogs, in fact all the nice things that you can imagine to bring
-him pleasure,--was observed by his attendants to be standing by the
-window, crying. When asked the cause of his tears he replied that he
-was unhappy because he could not join the boys in the street who were
-making mud pies!
-
-The Indians who use the bow and arrow say that the proper way to keep
-the strength of their bows is to unstring them after use and let them
-relax. So it is with those whose minds or bodies are engaged in one
-long strain of work; they must be relaxed or they become useless. The
-late Pope of Rome was a very dignified old man, and was also surrounded
-by learned and great men. He rode in a gilded coach drawn by four
-horses, and was in public a very grand and stately person. But I read
-the other day that the old gentleman and some of his cardinals were
-once seen playing ball in his garden, for the purpose of amusing a
-little boy.
-
-More than a hundred years ago the great country east of Germany, known
-as Russia, was ruled by the Empress Anne. It is a very cold country and
-the winter is very long. The capital is St. Petersburg, and through
-it the river Neva runs. This river freezes in winter, and the ice is
-frequently so solid that it will bear up an army of several thousand
-men with all their heavy guns and mortars, and these be discharged
-without so much as cracking the ice.
-
-At the close of the year 1739, during an extremely cold winter, the
-empress ordered one of her architects to build an _Ice Palace_. The
-great square in front of the royal palace was chosen for its site.
-Blocks of the clearest ice were selected, carefully measured and even
-ornamented with architectural designs. They were raised with cranes and
-carefully placed in position, and were cemented together by the pouring
-of water over them. The water soon froze and made the blocks one solid
-wall of ice. The palace was fifty-six feet long, seventeen and one half
-feet wide, and twenty-one feet high. Can you imagine anything more
-beautiful than such a building made of transparent ice and sparkling in
-the sun?
-
-It was surrounded by a balustrade, behind which were placed six ice
-cannon on carriages. These cannon were exactly like real metal ones,
-and were so hard and solid that powder could be fired in them. The
-charge used was a quarter of a pound of powder and a ball of oakum. At
-the first trial of the cannon an iron ball was used. The empress with
-all her court was present, and the ball was fired. It pierced a plank
-two inches thick at a distance of sixty feet.
-
-Besides these six cannon in front of the palace there were two ice
-mortars which carried iron balls weighing eighty pounds with a charge
-of one quarter of a pound of powder. Then, too, there were two ice
-dolphins, from whose mouths a flame of burning naptha was thrown at
-night with most wonderful effect. Between the cannon and dolphins, in
-front of the palace, there was a balustrade of ice ornamented with
-square pillars. Along the top of the palace there was a gallery and a
-balustrade which was ornamented with round balls. In the centre of this
-stood four beautiful ice statues.
-
-The frames of the doors and windows were painted green to imitate
-marble. There were two entrances to the palace, on opposite sides,
-leading into a square vestibule which had four windows. All the
-windows were made of perfectly transparent ice, and at night they were
-hung with linen shades on which grotesque figures were painted, and
-illuminated by a great number of candles.
-
-Before entering the palace one naturally stopped to admire the pots of
-flowers on the balustrade, and the orange trees on whose branches birds
-were perching. Think of the labor and patience required to make such
-perfect imitations of nature _in ice_!
-
-Standing in the vestibule, facing one entrance and having another
-behind, one could see a door on either hand. Let us imagine ourselves
-in the room on the left. It is a sleeping-room apparently, but if you
-stop to think that every article in it is made of ice you will hardly
-care to spend a night there; and yet it is said that two persons
-actually slept on the bed there for an entire night. On one side is
-a toilet-table. Over it hangs a mirror, on each side of which are
-candelabra with ice candles. Sometimes at night these candles were
-lit by being dipped in naptha. On the table is a watch-pocket, and a
-variety of vases, boxes, and ornaments of curious and beautiful design.
-At the other side of the room we see the bed hung with curtains,
-furnished with sheets and a coverlid and two pillows, on which are
-placed two night-caps. By the side of the bed on a foot-stool are
-two pairs of slippers. Opposite the bed is the fireplace which is
-beautifully carved and ornamented. In the grate lie sticks of wood also
-made of ice, which are sometimes lighted like the candles by having
-naptha poured over them.
-
-The opposite room is a dining-room. In the centre stands a table on
-which is a clock of most wonderful workmanship. The ice used is so
-transparent that all the wheels and works are visible. On each side
-of this table two beautifully carved sofas are placed, and in the
-corners of the room there are statues. On one side we see a sideboard
-covered with a variety of ornaments. We open the doors and find inside
-a tea-set, glasses and plates which contain a variety of fruits and
-vegetables, all made of ice but painted in imitation of nature.
-
-Let us now go through the opposite door and notice the other curious
-things outside the palace. At each end of the balustrade we see a
-pyramid with an opening in each side like the dial of a clock. These
-pyramids are hollow, and at night a man stands inside of them and
-exhibits illuminated pictures at the grand openings.
-
-Perhaps the greatest curiosity of all is the life-like elephant at the
-right of the palace. On his back sits a Persian holding a battle-axe,
-and by his side stand two men as large as life. The elephant, too, is
-hollow, and is so constructed that in the daytime a stream of water is
-thrown from his trunk to a height of twenty-four feet, and at night a
-flame of burning naptha. In addition to this, the wonderful animal is
-so arranged that from time to time he utters the most natural cries.
-This is done by means of pipes into which air is forced.
-
-On the left of the palace stands a small house, built of round blocks
-of ice resembling logs, interlaced one with another. This is the
-bath-house, without which no Russian establishment is complete. This
-bath-house was actually heated and used on several occasions.
-
-When this wonderful ice-palace was completed it was thrown open to the
-public, and such crowds came to see it that sentinels were stationed in
-the house to prevent disorder.
-
-This beautiful palace stood from the beginning of January until the end
-of March. Then, as the weather became warmer, it began to melt on the
-south side; but even after it lost its beauty and symmetry as a palace
-it did not become entirely useless, for the largest blocks of ice were
-transferred to the ice-houses of the imperial palace, and thus afforded
-grateful refreshment during the summer, as well as a pleasant reminder
-of “_The Plaything of an Empress_.”
-
-
-
-
-CHARLIE’S WEEK IN BOSTON.
-
-BY CHARLES E. HURD.
-
-
-Charlie was going to Boston.
-
-The ceaseless clatter of his little copper-toed boots over all the bare
-places in the house, and the pertinacious hammering he kept up upon
-everything capable of emitting sound, rendered it impossible for his
-mamma or the new baby to get any rest, and so it was that the decision
-came about. Aunt Mary, who had lent her presence to the household for
-the preceding fortnight, was to return home the following day, and with
-her, after infinite discussion, it was decided that he was to go for a
-week.
-
-The momentous news was withheld from Charlie until the next morning,
-for fear of the result upon his night’s sleep, but it was injudiciously
-let out by Aunt Mary before breakfast, the effect being to at once
-plunge the young gentleman into the highest state of excitement. He
-had played “go to Boston” a thousand times with his little cart and
-wheelbarrow, but to take such a journey in reality was something he
-could hardly imagine possible.
-
-“Am I going to Boston, real ’live?” he wildly inquired. “Where’s my
-rubber boots, and my little chair, and my cart, and I want my piece of
-gum mamma tooked away, and where’s my sled?”
-
-“But, Charlie,” said Aunt Mary, persuasively, “you are not going now,
-and you don’t want to take all those things. There isn’t any snow
-in Boston, and good little boys don’t chew gum. You must have some
-breakfast.”
-
-“I don’t want any breakfast. I want to go to Boston. I got to go, now
-you said so.”
-
-“Yes, but you must have something to eat first. It would make you sick
-to ride so far without eating. And then you must have a nice bath, and
-put on your new suit that papa bought last week. You’ve plenty of time.”
-
-But Charlie, generally good to mind, was thoroughly demoralized by the
-new turn in affairs, and had to be brought to the table by main force.
-
-“It’s like taking a horse to water,” said Aunt Mary. “You can get him
-to the trough, but you can’t make him drink without he likes. Charlie,
-have a nice large griddle-cake?”
-
-Griddle-cakes were Charlie’s weak point, but in a time like this he
-rose superior to the temptation.
-
-“Don’t want griddle-cakes; don’t want bread; don’t want toast; don’t
-want anything. I want to get right down out of my little chair, and go
-to Boston, awful quick!”
-
-“The child will be down sick if he goes away on an empty stomach,” said
-grandma from her bedroom, where she could see all that transpired at
-the table. “Can’t you make him eat?”
-
-“It’s all very well to say ‘Make him eat,’ but he won’t,” said Aunt
-Mary. “You might just as well make a squirrel sit down and eat in a
-respectable manner.”
-
-“Let him go till he gets hungry, then,” said his father. “He’ll come to
-it soon enough. There’s no danger of his starving.”
-
-If Charlie had been a grown man, with whiskers, and going to some
-European Court as Minister Extraordinary, he couldn’t have felt the
-importance of his prospective journey more, or been more weighed down
-by the preparations for it. The train which was to carry him did not
-start until two o’clock, and in the six hours which intervened his
-little tongue was in constant motion, and his little feet tramping up
-and down stairs, “getting ready.”
-
-“But you’re only going to stay for a week, you know, Charlie,” said
-Aunt Mary, dismayed at the heap of toys he had industriously gathered
-in a corner of the sitting-room for transportation, “and you’ll see so
-many pretty things that you won’t care for any of these.”
-
-“I want to carry my wheelbarrow. I will be cross if I don’t carry my
-wheelbarrow. And my cunnin’ little cunnin’ watlin’ pot, and my high
-chair, and some more.”
-
-But Aunt Mary couldn’t get them into her trunk, and the railroad
-man wouldn’t let Charlie take them into the cars. “Put them all away
-nicely, and then Charlie will have them when he comes home.”
-
-It required a great deal of judicious argument, intermingled with
-promises, to gain the point, and final success was only achieved by a
-formal agreement, to which grandma was made a witness, by virtue of
-which Charlie was to become the possessor of “a speckled rocking-horse,
-just like Johnny Baker’s, with real hair ears, and a tight tail,
-that boys couldn’t pull out.” This compact having been made, Charlie
-submitted to the washing and dressing process with comparative good
-grace.
-
-An exceedingly light dinner preceded the start, varied by excursions to
-the front door to see if the depot stage was coming. It came at last,
-and, after the leave-taking, Charlie and Aunt Mary were packed in among
-half a dozen others. The whip cracked, the coach gave a sudden lurch,
-and then dashed down the street at the heels of the horses, who seemed
-anxious to get to the station at the earliest possible moment. There
-was just time to get tickets and seats before the train started.
-
-If Charlie was unmanageable before, he was doubly so now. At every
-stopping-place he made desperate efforts to get out of the car, and
-once or twice, in spite of Aunt Mary’s efforts, very nearly succeeded.
-He dropped his hat out of the window; he dirtied his face beyond
-redemption with dust and cinders; he put cake crumbs down the neck
-of an old lady who had fallen asleep on the seat just in front, and
-horrified the more staid portion of the passengers in the car by a
-series of acts highly inconsistent with the rules of good breeding, and
-the character of a nice boy.
-
-Boston was reached at last, and the perils of procuring a hack and
-getting safely home in it were surmounted. So thankful was Aunt Mary
-that she could have dropped upon her knees on the sidewalk in front of
-the door; but she managed to control her feelings, paid the hackman
-his dollar, still keeping a tight grip upon Charlie, and, despite his
-struggles to join the distant audience of a hand-organ, managed to get
-him safely into the house, where he was at once delivered over to the
-other members of the household.
-
-“I never, never, _never_ will go out of the house with that child
-again!” she declared, half crying, and sinking into a chair without
-taking her bonnet off. “He’s enough to kill anyone outright. No wonder
-they wanted to get rid of him at home! It’ll be a mercy if he don’t
-drive us all crazy before the week is out. One thing is certain,
-they’ll have to send for him. _I’ll_ never take him home again.”
-
-“Why didn’t you drug him, Aunt Mary,” asked Tom, with a great show of
-sympathy. “_I_ would.”
-
-“I declare I would have done anything, if I had only known how he was
-going to act! You may laugh and think it’s all very funny, but I just
-wish you’d some of you try it yourselves. Where is he now? If he’s out
-of sight a single minute he’ll be in some mischief. There he goes now!”
-
-The last declaration of Aunt Mary was preceded by a series of violent
-bumps, followed by a loud scream from the bottom of the basement
-stairs. A grand rush to the spot revealed Charlie lying at the foot,
-beating the air with his legs, with a vigor that at once dispelled all
-fears as to his serious injury. He was picked up and borne into the
-kitchen by the cook, where the gift of a doughnut soon dried his tears,
-and he was returned to the sitting-room to await the ringing of the
-bell for tea.
-
-“Has he had a nap to-day?” asked grandmother.
-
-“Nap! I should think the child would be dead for want of sleep. I don’t
-believe he’s winked to-day!”
-
-“He looks like it now, anyway,” said Tom, who was holding him in his
-arms.
-
-Sure enough, his eyelids were beginning to droop, and a moment after
-the half-eaten doughnut dropped from his loosened fingers upon the
-carpet.
-
-“Carry him up to my room, Tom, and lay him upon my bed. Don’t for
-mercy’s sake hit his head against anything. We shan’t have any peace if
-he gets awake again.”
-
-Slowly and carefully Tom staggered under his little burden up-stairs,
-and laid it upon the clean white coverlet of Aunt Mary’s bed.
-
-“That will do,” said Aunt Mary, who had followed close behind. “He’s
-thoroughly tired out, and no wonder. You may go down now and I will
-take care of him, dear little fellow.”
-
-With careful fingers she untied the laces of his little boots, and
-pulled them off. The stockings came next, and the hot little feet
-were released from confinement. The tiny jacket was then removed, the
-tangled hair put back, and then, with a sponge wet in cool water,
-the dirty, sweaty little face was softly bathed until it became quite
-presentable again.
-
-“There!” she said at last, surveying him with a feeling of
-satisfaction, “he will sleep at least a couple of hours. By that time
-I shall get rested, and can manage him better. I suppose it’s because
-he’s so tired, and everything is new.”
-
-With this apology for Charlie in her heart, and a half remorseful
-feeling for her lately displayed impatience, she descended the stairs
-to the dining-room, where the rest of the family were already seated at
-the table.
-
-A few minutes later, and while she was deep in an account of matters
-and things at Charlie’s home, the cook came up-stairs in something of a
-fluster.
-
-“Plaze, ma’am, there’s something on the house.”
-
-“Something on the house?”
-
-“Yes. McKillop’s boarders across the way are all at the windows, an’
-the men is laughin’ and the women frightened.”
-
-With one accord a sudden and informal adjournment to the parlor window
-was made, the result being a verification of the cook’s statement.
-
-“What on earth can be the matter?” said grandmother.
-
-At this moment Mrs. McKillop, after a series of incomprehensible
-gestures, which nobody could translate with any clearness, dispatched
-her girl across the street.
-
-“There’s a child, ma’am,” she exclaimed, in breathless excitement, “a
-baby, walking about on the outside of your house like a fly! he’s--
-Howly Father!”
-
-This sudden exclamation was caused by the descent of a flower pot,
-which, coming with the swiftness of a meteor, missed the head of the
-speaker by less than a hand’s-breadth, and crashed into a thousand
-pieces on the front steps.
-
-The situation was taken in at once. With a succession of screams Aunt
-Mary flew up the stairs two at a time. By this a crowd was rapidly
-gathering.
-
-“Bring out something to catch him in if he falls,” shouted a fat old
-gentleman, pushing his way to the front.
-
-Grandmother caught a tidy from the arm of the sofa, and, snatching a
-volume of Tennyson from the centre-table, rushed frantically into the
-street, closely followed by Tom with a feather duster.
-
-A single glance told the whole story. There sat Charlie, utterly
-innocent of clothing save a shirt of exceeding scantness, on the very
-edge of the broad projection below the third-story window, his legs
-dangling in space, watching with delighted interest the proceedings of
-the excited crowd in the street below. No one knows what might have
-happened, for, at that moment, while a hot discussion was being carried
-on among the gathered spectators, as to the propriety of sounding
-a fire alarm for a hook and ladder company, the arms of Aunt Mary
-came through the window, and closed upon him like a pair of animated
-pincers. There was a brief struggle, productive of a perfect shower
-of flower-pots, and then, amid a hurricane of shouts and cheers, the
-little white body and kicking legs disappeared within the room. When,
-two minutes later, the entire household, with a fair sprinkling of the
-McKillop boarders, had reached the scene, they found Charlie shut up
-in the wardrobe, and Aunt Mary in hysterics, with her back against the
-door.
-
-“If he stays here a week we shall have to board up the windows, and
-keep a policeman,” said grandmother, that night, after Charlie had been
-guarded to sleep on the sitting-room lounge, with the door locked. “We
-shall have to have watchers for him, for I would no more dare to go
-to sleep without some one awake with him than I would trust him with
-a card of matches and a keg of gunpowder. And that makes me think:
-we musn’t leave matches where he can get them; and, father, you’ll
-have to go down town the first thing in the morning, and see about an
-insurance.”
-
-Notwithstanding the universally expressed fears, Charlie slept like a
-top all night, and really behaved so well the next morning that it was
-deemed safe to give him an airing, and introduce him to the sights of
-Boston. Right after dinner he was taken in hand, and dressed and curled
-and frilled as he never had been before, creating serious doubts in his
-own mind as to whether he was really himself, or another boy of about
-the same size and general make.
-
-At half-past two o’clock the party set out, Aunt Mary on one side,
-tightly grasping Charlie’s hand, and on the other a female friend,
-especially engaged for the occasion. Tom followed on behind as a sort
-of rear guard, ready to be called upon in case of emergency.
-
-First the Public Garden was visited. Hardly had half the circuit of the
-lake been made, when Charlie, attracted by one of the gayly painted
-boats which was moored a few feet from the shore, broke loose and made
-a sudden dash to reach it, to the utter ruin of his stockings and
-gaiters. In vain Aunt Mary coaxed and remonstrated and threatened; in
-vain she attempted to hook him out with the handle of her parasol; he
-was just out of reach and he kept there. He was brought out by one
-of the gardeners at last, who seemed to look upon it as an excellent
-joke. Tom, who had lagged behind, was sent back after dry stockings
-and Charlie’s second-best shoes, which, when brought, were changed
-in the vestibule of the Public Library, and the line of march again
-taken up. The deer on the Common were fed, Punch and Judy viewed and
-criticized, and the thousand and one various objects in the vicinity
-visited. Charlie was delighted with everything, but through and above
-all one grand desire and determination rode rampant--the desire and
-determination to enter into possession of the promised, but as yet
-unrealized, “wocking-horse.”
-
-[Illustration: “MOUNTED UPON THE BACK OF THE LARGEST AND REALEST
-LOOKING HORSE.”]
-
-Down Winter Street to Washington, in the great, sweeping crowd of men,
-women and children; past the gorgeous dry goods stores; past candy
-and apple stands; past all sorts of strange and funny and bewildering
-things, Charlie was slowly dragged, a helpless and unwilling prisoner.
-He only broke silence once. Passing a window filled with braids and
-chignons, and doubtless taking them for scalps, he inquired with
-considerable interest if “Indians kept store there.”
-
-“Oh! what a lovely silk!” ejaculated Aunt Mary’s friend, coming to a
-sudden stop before one of the great dry goods emporiums on Washington
-Street.
-
-Aunt Mary stopped, too. The pattern was too gorgeous to be lightly
-passed. She raised her hand to remove her vail, forgot her charge for a
-moment, and when she looked again Charlie had disappeared.
-
-“Charlie! Charlie! Why, where is he?” she exclaimed, pale with fright.
-“I thought you had hold of him!”
-
-“I dropped his hand not a minute ago, to be sure my pocket hadn’t been
-picked. I thought you would look out for him.”
-
-In vain they searched; in vain they questioned clerks and policemen and
-apple-women. Nobody had seen such a boy, and yet everybody seemed to
-think that they certainly should remember if they had. It was now half
-past four. And Tom, who might have helped them so much, was gone!
-
-“Perhaps,” suggested a pitying apothecary’s clerk, with a very small
-moustache and very smooth hair, “perhaps the young man Tom has taken
-him home.”
-
-There was a small spark of comfort in this suggestion and, though
-unbelieving, the two hurried homewards, only to find Tom sitting on the
-doorstep, lazily fanning himself, and hear his surprised ejaculation:
-
-“Why! what have you done with Charlie?”
-
-“He’s lost!” said Aunt Mary, bursting into tears. “He’ll get run over,
-or carried away, or something terrible will happen to him. I shall
-never have another minute’s peace while I live!”
-
-Tom listened impatiently to the details of the story, told by both
-together, and, tossing his fan into the hall, started down the steps.
-
-“Don’t fret till I come back. He’s all right somewhere, and I’ll bring
-him home with me.”
-
-“I’m going back. I can’t stay here. I can help search,” said Aunt Mary,
-still in tears, and her loyal companion avowed her determination to
-stand by her.
-
-Tom had hurried away without stopping to listen, and was now out of
-sight; but the two wretched women, heated, footsore and wearied,
-followed resolutely after. The scene of the mysterious disappearance
-was at last reached, and again the oft repeated inquiries were made,
-but with the same result.
-
-“Here is where I was intending to bring him,” said Aunt Mary, pausing
-mournfully before the window of a toy-bazar crowded with drums,
-guns, trumpets and wooden monkeys. “He had talked so much about his
-rocking-horse, the poor lost lamb! And now--”
-
-The sentence was never finished, for, with a half hysterical shriek,
-she dropped her parasol upon the sidewalk and rushed into the store,
-where the apparition of a curly head of flaxen hair, slowly oscillating
-back and forth, had that instant caught her eye. It was Charlie, sure
-enough, in the highest feather, mounted upon the back of the largest
-and realest-looking horse in the entire stock of the establishment,
-whose speed he was endeavoring to accelerate by the aid of divers
-kicks and cluckings, while the proprietor and unemployed clerks looked
-admiringly on.
-
-Aunt Mary, despite her regard for appearances, hugged him and cried
-over him without stint, and finally made a brave attempt to scold him,
-but her heart failed her, at the very outset.
-
-“He’s been here nigh upon two hours,” said the proprietor, as he made
-change for the coveted horse. “He came in alone and went right to
-that horse, and there he’s stuck ever since. I don’t let boys handle
-’em much without I know they’re going to buy, but he made me think so
-much of a little fellow I lost a year ago that I let him do just as he
-liked.”
-
-No mishap occurred in getting Charlie home this time. The toyman’s boy
-was sent for a hack, and, with the rocking-horse perched up by the
-side of the driver, and the doors tightly closed, nothing happened
-beyond what happens to ordinary boys who are carried about in hacks.
-Some little difficulty was experienced in getting him out on arrival
-home, for it appeared that he had formed the plan on the way of
-taking his horse into the coach and making a tour of the city by
-himself. He could not in any manner be satisfied of the impossibility
-of such an arrangement, and was at last taken out in a high state of
-indignation by the driver, who expressed a vehement wish to himself
-that “_he_ had such a young one!” Nothing took place worthy of mention
-before bed-time, with the exception, perhaps, of the breaking of the
-carving-knife, and the ruin of Aunt Mary’s gold pen in an attempt to
-vaccinate his new acquisition.
-
-For three days peace--comparative peace--reigned in the household.
-From morning till night, in season and out of season, Charlie was busy
-with his horse, astride of it, or feeding it, or leading it to water,
-or punishing it for imaginary kicks and bites, and so keeping out of
-mischief; but with the dawn of the fourth he awoke, apparently for the
-first time, to a realization of the fact that he was not lying in his
-own little bed, and a sudden flood of homesickness rolled over his
-soul, drowning out rocking-horse, hand-organs, Tom’s music-box, and
-each and every Bostonian delight which, until that moment, had led him
-captive.
-
-From that moment his mourning was as incessant and obstinate as that of
-Rachael. He sat on the top stair, and filled the house with wailings.
-Cakes, candy and coaxings were alike in vain, and even a desperate
-promise of Tom’s--to show him a whole drove of elephants, had no more
-effect upon him, to use the cook’s simile, “than the wind that blows.”
-
-“No human being can endure it any longer,” declared grandma, and in
-that statement every member of the household cordially agreed.
-
-That fact having been established without discussion, but one thing
-remained to do; to get him home in as good condition as when he left
-there.
-
-“One can hardly do that,” said Tom. “He’s got a rag on every finger but
-one, and I don’t know how much court-plaster about him.”
-
-Notwithstanding, the afternoon train saw Charlie on board, under the
-double guardianship of Aunt Mary and Tom, and at five o’clock he was in
-his mother’s arms.
-
-“The silence in the house was a thousand times worse than the sound of
-his little feet,” she said, with her eyes full of tears, “and made me
-think of that possible time when I should never hear them any more.”
-
-[Illustration: Johnny’s a drummer and drums for thᵉ King.
-_MDC. VII._]
-
-
-
-
-A WONDERFUL TRIO.
-
-BY JANE HOWARD.
-
-
-In a little stone hut among the mountains lived Gredel and her son
-Peterkin, and this is how they lived: They kept about a dozen goats;
-and all they had to do was to watch them browse, milk them, and make
-the butter and cheese, which they partly ate and partly sold down in
-the village, or, rather, exchanged for bread. They were content with
-bread, butter, and cheese; and all they thought about was the goats.
-As for their clothes, it would be impossible to speak of them with
-patience. They had no ambition, no hope, no thought beyond the day, and
-no sense of gratitude towards yesterday. So they lived, doing no harm,
-and effecting little good; careless of the future, and not honestly
-proud of anything they had done in the past.
-
-But one day Gredel (who was the widow of a shepherd that had dropped
-over the edge of a cliff) sat slowly churning the previous day’s milk,
-while Peterkin sat near her, doing nothing at all, thinking nothing at
-all, because he had nothing to ponder over, and looking at nothing at
-all, for the goats were an everyday sight, and they took such capital
-care of themselves that Peterkin always stared away over their heads.
-
-“Heigho!” suddenly exclaimed Gredel, stopping in her churning; and
-Peterkin dropped his stick, looked at his mother slowly, and obediently
-repeated, “Heigho!”
-
-“The sun rises,” said Gredel, “and the sun sets; the day comes, and the
-day goes; and we were yesterday, and we are to-day, and we shall be for
-some tomorrows; and that is all, all, all.”
-
-Said Peterkin, “Mother, what is there in the world?”
-
-“Men and women,” repeated the wise parent; “goats, and many other
-things.”
-
-“But is it the end of life to get up, watch goats, eat and drink, and
-fall asleep again? Sometimes I wonder what is on the other side of the
-hill.”
-
-“Who can say what is the end of life?” asked slow-thoughted Gredel.
-“Are you not happy?”
-
-“Yes. But there is something more.”
-
-“Do you not love me--your mother?”
-
-“Yes. But still I think--think--think.”
-
-“Love is enough,” said Gredel, who had passed more than half way
-through life, and was content to rest.
-
-“Then it must be,” said Peterkin, “that I want more than enough.”
-
-“If so, you must be wicked,” remarked Gredel; “for I am at peace in
-loving you, and you should be content in loving me. What more do you
-want? You have enough to eat--a warm bed in winter--and your mother who
-loves you.”
-
-Peterkin shook his head.
-
-“It will rain to-night,” said Gredel; “and you will be warm while many
-will be shivering in the wet.”
-
-Gredel was quite right; for when the sun had set, and the heavens were
-all of one dead, sad color, down came the rain, and the inside of the
-hut looked very warm and comfortable.
-
-Nevertheless, Peterkin still thought of the something beyond the
-mountain, and wondered what it might be. Had some wise one whispered in
-his ear, he must have learnt that it was healthy ambition, which helped
-the world and the worker at the same time.
-
-Soon it began to thunder, and Peterkin lazily opened the wooden
-shutters to look at the lightning.
-
-By this time Gredel, having thanked Providence for a large bowl of
-black bread steeped in hot goat’s milk, was nodding and bobbing towards
-the flaming wood fire.
-
-“Mother mother! here comes something from this world!”
-
-“And what comes from the world?”
-
-“Something like three aged women, older than you are a very great deal.
-Let me wait for another flash of lightening. Ha! The first has a big
-stick; the second has a great pair of round things on her eyes; and
-the third has a sack on her back, but it is as flat as the palm of my
-hand, and can have nothing in it.”
-
-“Is there enough bread, and cheese, and milk, and salt in the
-house?--We must consider.”
-
-“Aye,” answered Peterkin; “there is plenty of each and all.”
-
-“Then let them come in, if they will,” said Gredel. “But they shall
-knock at the door first, for we go not out on the highways and in the
-byways to help others. Let them come to us--good. But let us not go to
-them, for they have their business, and we have ours; and so the world
-goes round!”
-
-“They are near the door,” whispered Peterkin, “and very good old women
-they look.”
-
-The next moment there was a very soft and civil tapping at the door.
-
-“Who goes there?” asked Peterkin.
-
-“Three honest old women,” cried a voice.
-
-“And what do three honest old women want?” called Gredel.
-
-“A bit of bread each,” replied the voice, “a mug of milk each, and one
-corner for all three to sleep in until in the morning up comes the
-sweet yellow sun.”
-
-“Lift up the latch,” said Gredel. “Come in. There is bread, there is
-milk, and a corner laid with three sacks of thistle down. Come in, and
-welcome.”
-
-Then up went the latch, and in stepped the three travellers. Gredel
-looked at them without moving; but when she saw they were pleasant in
-appearance--that their eyes were keen in spite of their many wrinkles,
-and that their smiles were very fresh and pleasant notwithstanding the
-lines about their mouth, lazy but good-hearted Gredel got up and made a
-neat little bow of welcome.
-
-“Are you sisters?” she asked.
-
-“We are three sisters,” answered the leader, she who carried the
-stick. “I am commonly called Sister Trot.”
-
-[Illustration: IN STEPPED THE THREE.]
-
-“And I,” said the second, who wore the spectacles, “am commonly called
-Sister Pansy.”
-
-“And I,” added the third, who carried the bag, “am styled Sister
-Satchel.”
-
-“Your mother and father must have been a good-looking couple,” said
-Gredel, smiling.
-
-“They were born handsome,” quoth Trot, rearing her head proudly, “and
-they grew handsomer.”
-
-“How came they to grow handsomer?” asked Peterkin, who had been
-standing in a corner.
-
-“Because they were brisk and hurried about,” replied Pansy, “and never
-found the day too long. But pray, sir, who are you?”
-
-“I am Peterkin, son of Gredel.”
-
-“And may I ask what you do?” inquired Trot.
-
-“Watch the goats.”
-
-“And what do you do when you watch the goats?”
-
-“Look about.”
-
-“What do you see when you look about?” asked Sister Pansy.
-
-“The sky, and the earth, and the goats.”
-
-“Ah!” said Pansy, “it is very good to look at the sky, and truly wise
-to look at the earth, while it is clever to keep an eye on the goats;
-but Peterkin--Peterkin--you do not look far enough!”
-
-“And when you look about,” queried Sister Satchel, “what do you pick
-up?”
-
-“Nothing,” said Peterkin.
-
-“Nothing!” echoed the visitor. “What! not even an idea?”
-
-“What is an idea?” asked Peterkin.
-
-“Oh, oh, oh!” said the three sisters. “Here is Peterkin, who not only
-never picks up an idea, but actually does not know what one is!”
-
-“This comes of not moving about,” said Trot.
-
-“Of not looking about,” said Pansy.
-
-“And of not picking up something every day,” said Satchel. “And a worse
-example I, for one, never came across.”
-
-“Nor I!” “Nor I!” echoed the other sisters.
-
-Whereupon they all looked at Peterkin, and seemed dreadfully serious.
-
-“Why, whatever have I done?” he demanded.
-
-“That’s just it!” said the sisters. “_What_ have you done?”
-
-“Nothing!” exclaimed Peterkin, quite with the intention of justifying
-himself. “Nothing at all!”
-
-“Ah!” said Trot, “_that_ is the truth, indeed; whatever else may be
-wrong--done nothing at all!”
-
-“Nothing!” “Nothing!” repeated Satchel and Pansy, in a breath.
-
-“Dear me!” said Peterkin.
-
-Whereupon Gredel, half-frightened herself, and partly indignant that
-her boy should be lamented over in this uncalled-for manner, said,
-“Would you be pleased to take a seat?”
-
-“Certainly!” said Trot. “Still I, for one, would not think of such a
-thing until your stools were dusted.”
-
-Gredel could _not_ believe her eyes, for actually Trot raised one end
-of her stick and it became a brush, with which she dusted three stools.
-
-“I think, too,” said Sister Pansy, looking out sharp through her
-spectacles, “that if we were to stop up that hole in the corner we
-should have less draught. As a rule, holes are bad things in a house.”
-
-So off she went, and stopped up the hole with a handful of dried grass
-she took from a corner.
-
-“Bless me!” said Satchel; “here are four pins on the floor!”
-
-Whereupon she picked up the pins and popped them into her wallet.
-Meanwhile Gredel looked on, much astonished at these preceedings.
-
-“I may as well have a rout while I am about it,” said Trot, beginning
-at once to sweep up.
-
-“Cobwebs in every corner!” cried Pansy; and away she went, looking
-after the walls.
-
-“No wonder you could not find your wooden spoon,” remarked Satchel;
-“why, here it is, most mysteriously up the chimney!”
-
-There was such a dusting, sweeping, and general cleaning as the place
-had never seen before.
-
-“This is great fun!” said Peterkin; “but how it makes you sneeze!”
-
-“Here, dame Gredel,” cried Satchel; “I have picked up all the things
-you must have lost for the last three years. Here is your thimble; and
-now you can take the bit of leather off your finger. Here are your
-scissors, which will cut cloth better than that knife; and here is the
-lost leg of the third stool--so that I can now sit down in safety.”
-
-“Why,” exclaimed Peterkin, “the place looks twice as large as it did,
-and ten times brighter. Mother, I am glad the ladies have come.”
-
-“I am sure, ladies,” said the good woman, “I shall never forget your
-visit.”
-
-To tell the truth, however, there was something very ambiguous in
-Gredel’s words.
-
-“There!” said Trot; “and now I can sit down in comfort to my bread and
-milk.”
-
-“And very good bread and milk, too,” said Satchel. “I think, sisters,
-we are quite fortunate to fall upon this goodly cot.”
-
-“Yes,” remarked Trot, “they are not bad souls, this Gredel and
-Peterkin; but, they sadly want mending. However, they have good hearts,
-and you know that those who love much are forgiven much; and indeed
-I would sooner eat my supper here than in some palaces you and I,
-sisters, know something about.”
-
-“Quite true!” assented the others, “quite true!” And so they went on
-talking as though they had been in their own house and no one but
-themselves in the room. Gredel listened with astonishment, and Peterkin
-with all his ears, too delighted even to be astonished.
-
-“Now this,” thought he, “comes of their knowing something of what goes
-on beyond the Great Hill as far away as I can see.”
-
-“Time for bed,” suddenly said Dame Trot, who evidently was the leader,
-“if we are to see the sun rise.”
-
-The sisters then made themselves quite comfortable, and tucked up their
-thistle-down beds and home-spun sheets with perfect good humor.
-
-       *       *       *       *       *
-
-Peterkin awoke cheerily, and he was dressed even before the sun
-appeared. He made the fire, set the table, gave the place a cheerful
-air, and then opened the door to look after the goats, wondering why he
-felt so light and happy. He was soon joined by the three sisters, who
-made a great to-do with some cold water and their washing.
-
-“Is it good to put your head souse in a pail?” asked Peterkin.
-
-“Try it,” replied Dame Trot.
-
-So by this time, quite trusting the old women, he did so, and found
-his breath gone in a moment. However, he enjoyed breathing all the
-more when he found his head once more out of the pail, and after Pansy
-had rubbed him dry with a rough towel, which she took out of Satchel’s
-wallet, he thought he had never experienced such a delightful feeling
-as then took possession of him. Even since the previous night he felt
-quite a new being, and alas! he found himself forgetting Gredel--his
-mother Gredel, who loved him and taught him only to live for to-day.
-
-“And shall I show you down the hill-side?” asked Peterkin, when the
-three sisters had taken their porridge and were sprucing themselves for
-departure.
-
-“Yes,” said dame Trot, “and glad am I thou hast saved us the trouble of
-asking thee.”
-
-“A good lad,” remarked Pansy to Gredel, “but he must look about him.”
-
-“Truly,” said Satchel. “And, above all, he must pick up everything he
-comes across, when he can do so without robbing a neighbor, and he may
-steal all his neighbor _knows_, without depriving the gentleman of
-anything.”
-
-Then Peterkin, feeling as light as a feather, started off down the
-hillside, the three old sisters chatting, whispering, and chuckling
-in a very wonderful manner. So, when they were quite in the valley,
-Peterkin said, “Please you, I will leave you now, ladies; and many
-thanks for your coming.” Then he very civilly touched his tattered cap,
-and was turning on his battered heels, when Sister Trot said, “Stop!”
-and he turned.
-
-“Peterkin,” she said, “thou art worth loving and thinking about, and
-for your kindness to us wanderers we must ask you to keep something in
-remembrance of our visit. Here, take my wonderful stick and believe
-in it. You know me as Trot, but grown-up men call me the Fairy
-Work-o’-Day.” Peterkin made his obeisance, and took the stick.
-
-“I will never lose it!” said he.
-
-“You never will,” said Trot, “after once you know how to use it.”
-
-“Well,” said sister Pansy, “I am not to be beaten by my sister, and so
-here are my spectacles.”
-
-“I shall look very funny in them,” said Peterkin, eyeing them
-doubtfully.
-
-“Nay; nobody will see them on your nose as you mark them on mine. The
-world will observe their wisdom in your eyes, but the wires will be
-invisible. By-the-by, sister Pansy is only my home-name; men call me
-Fairy See-far; and so be good.”
-
-“As for me,” said the third sister, “I am but the younger of the
-family. I could not be in existence had not my sisters been born into
-the world. I am going to give you my sack; but take heed, it were
-better that you had no sack at all than that you should fill it too
-full; than that you should fling into it all that you see; than that
-you should pass by on the other side when, your sack being full,
-another human being, fallen amongst thieves, lies bleeding and wanting
-help! And now know that, though I am sometimes called Satchel, my name
-amongst the good people is the Fairy Save-some.”
-
-“Good by,” suddenly said the three sisters. They smiled, and instantly
-they were gone--just like _Three Thoughts_.
-
-So he turned his face towards home, with sorrow in his heart as he
-thought of the three sisters, while hope was mixed with the sadness as
-he glanced towards the far-off mountain which was called Mons Futura.
-
-Now, Peterkin had never cared to climb hillsides, and, therefore he
-rarely went down them if he could help it, always lazily stopping at
-the top. But now the wonderful stick, as he pressed it upon the ground,
-seemed to give him a light heart, and a lighter pair of heels, and he
-danced up the hillside just as though he were holiday-making, soon
-reaching home.
-
-“See, mother,” said Peterkin, “the good women have given me each a
-present--the one her stick, the second her glasses, and the third her
-wallet.”
-
-“Ho!” said Gredel. “Well, I am not sorry they are gone, for I am afraid
-they would soon have made you despise your mother. They are very
-pleasant old people no doubt, but rude and certainly ill-bred, or they
-would not have put my house to rights.”
-
-“But it looked all the better for it.”
-
-“It looked very well as it was.”
-
-“But the world goes on and on,” said Peterkin.
-
-Gredel shook her head. “Humph!” she said, “a stick, an old pair of
-spectacles, and a sack not worth a dime! When people give gifts, let
-them be gifts and not cast-offs.”
-
-“Anyhow,” said Peterkin, “I can tell you that the stick is a good
-stick, and helps you over the hill famously. I will keep it, and you
-may have the sack and the spectacles.”
-
-“Let us try your spectacles,” cried Gredel. “_Oh!_” she said, trying
-them on carelessly. “These are the most wonderful spectacles in the
-world,” she went on; “but no more civil than those three old women.”
-
-“What do you mean, mother?”
-
-“I see you, Peterkin--and a very sad sight, too. Why, you are lazy,
-careless, unwashed, and stupid; and a more deplorable object was never
-seen by honest woman.”
-
-Poor Peterkin blushed very much; but at this point, his mother taking
-off the glasses, he seized and placed them before his own eyes. “_Oh!_”
-he exclaimed.
-
-“What now?” asked Gredel in some alarm.
-
-“Now I see you as you are--and a very bad example are you to set before
-your own son! Why, you are careless, and love me not for myself but
-yourself, or you would do your best for me, and send me out in the
-world.”
-
-“What? And dare you talk to your mother in such fashion? Give me the
-spectacles once more!” and she clapped them on again. “Bless me!” she
-continued, “the boy is quite right, and I see I am selfish, and that I
-am making him selfish--a very pretty business, indeed! This is to be
-thought over,” she said, laying aside the spectacles.
-
-By this time Peterkin had possessed himself of the stick, and then, to
-his amazement, he found it had taken the shape of a spade.
-
-“Well,” said he, “as here is a spade I think I will turn over the
-potato-patch.” This he did; and coming in to breakfast he was
-admonished to find how fine the milk tasted. “Mother,” said he, “here
-is a penny I have found in the field.”
-
-“Put it in the bag,” said Gredel.
-
-He did so, and immediately there was a chink.
-
-Over he turned the sack, and lo! there were ten pennies sprinkled on
-the table.
-
-“Ho, ho,” said Peterkin, “if, now, the bag increases money after such a
-pleasant manner, I have but to take out one coin and cast it in again,
-and soon I shall have a fortune.” He did so; but he heard no chinking.
-He inverted the bag again, and out fell the one coin he had picked up
-while digging the potato-patch.
-
-“This, now, is very singular,” he said; “let me put on the spectacles.”
-This done, “Ha!” he cried, “I see now how it is. The money will never
-grow in the sack, unless one works hard; and then it increases whether
-one will or not.”
-
-Meanwhile Gredel, taking up the stick, it took the shape of a broom,
-and upon the hint she swept the floor. Next, sitting down before
-Peterkin’s clothes, the stick became a needle, and she stitched away
-with a will.
-
-So time rolled on. The cottage flourished, and the garden was
-beautiful. Then a cow was brought home, and it was wonderful how often
-fresh money changed in the wallet. Gredel had grown handsomer, and so
-also had Peterkin. But one day it came to pass that Peterkin said:
-“Mother, it is time I went over the great hill.”
-
-“What! canst thou leave me?”
-
-“Thou didst leave thy father and mother.”
-
-Gredel was wiser than she had been, and so she quietly said: “Let us
-put on the spectacles. Ah! I see,” she then said, “a mother may love
-her son, but she must not stand in his way as he goes on in the world,
-or she becomes his enemy.”
-
-Then Peterkin put on the spectacles. “Ah! I see,” said he, “a son may
-love his mother, but his love must not interfere with his duty to
-other men. The glasses say that every man should try and leave the
-world something the better for his coming; that many fail and but few
-succeed, yet that all must strive.”
-
-“So be it,” said Gredel. “Go forth into the world, my son, and leave me
-hopeful here alone.”
-
-“The glasses say that the sense of duty done is the greatest happiness
-in the world,” said Peterkin.
-
-Then Gredel looked again through the glasses.
-
-“I see,” said she; “the glasses say it is better to have loved and lost
-than never to have loved at all. Go forth into the world, my son: we
-shall both be the happier for having done our duty.”
-
-So out into the world went Peterkin.
-
-What else is there to tell? Why, who can write of to-morrow?
-
-By the way, you should know that amongst the very wise folk sister
-Trot is known as “Industry,” sister Pansy as “Foresight,” while honest
-Satchel is generally called “Economy.”
-
-[Illustration: Out For the Afternoon]
-
-
-
-
-[Illustration]
-
-TWO FORTUNE-SEEKERS.
-
-BY ROSSITER JOHNSON.
-
-
-One afternoon I went over to see Fred Barnard, and found him sitting on
-the back steps, apparently meditating.
-
-“What are you doing?” said I.
-
-“Waiting for that handkerchief to dry,” said he, pointing to a red one
-with round white spots, which hung on the clothes-line.
-
-“And what are you going to do when it’s dry?” said I.
-
-“Tie up my things in it,” said he.
-
-“Things! What things?”
-
-“O, such things as a fellow needs when he’s traveling. I’m going to
-seek my fortune.”
-
-“Where are you going to seek it?” said I.
-
-“I can’t tell exactly--anywhere and everywhere. I’m going till I find
-it.”
-
-“But,” said I, “do you really expect to turn over a stone, or pull
-up a bush, or get to the end of a rainbow, and find a crock full of
-five-dollar gold pieces?”
-
-“O, no!” said Fred. “Such things are gone by long ago. You can’t do
-that nowadays, if you ever could. But people do get rich nowadays, and
-there must be some way to do it.”
-
-“Don’t they get rich mostly by staying at home, and minding their
-business,” said I, “instead of going off tramping about the world?”
-
-“Maybe some of them do,” said Fred; “but my father has always staid at
-home, and minded his business, and _he_ hasn’t got rich; and I don’t
-believe he ever will. But there’s uncle Silas, he’s always on the go,
-so you never know where to direct a letter to him; and he has lots
-of money. Sometimes mother tells him he ought to settle down; but he
-always says, if he did he’s afraid he wouldn’t be able to settle up by
-and by.”
-
-I thought of my own father, and my mother’s brother. They both staid at
-home and minded their own business, yet neither of them was rich. This
-seemed to confirm Fred’s theory, and I was inclined to think he was
-more than half right.
-
-“I don’t know but I’d like to go with you,” said I.
-
-“I don’t want you to,” said Fred.
-
-“Why,” said I, in astonishment; “are we not good friends?”
-
-“O, yes, good friends as ever,” said Fred; “but you’re not very likely
-to find two fortunes close together; and I think it’s better for every
-one to go alone.”
-
-“Then why couldn’t I start at the same time you do, and go a different
-way?”
-
-“That would do,” said Fred. “I’m going to start to-morrow morning.” And
-he walked to the line, and felt of the handkerchief.
-
-[Illustration]
-
-“I can take mother’s traveling-bag,” said I. “That will be handier to
-carry than a bundle tied up.”
-
-“Take it if you like,” said Fred; “but _I_ believe there’s luck in an
-old-fashioned handkerchief. In all the pictures of boys going to seek
-their fortunes, they have their things tied up in a handkerchief, and a
-stick put through it and over their shoulder.”
-
-I did not sympathize much with Fred’s belief in luck, though I thought
-it was possible there might be something in it; but the bundle in the
-handkerchief seemed to savor a little more of romance, and I determined
-that I would conform to the ancient style.
-
-“Does your father know about it?” said I.
-
-“Yes; and he says I may go.”
-
-Just then Fred’s father drove around from the barn.
-
-“I’m going away,” said he to Fred, “to be gone several days. So, if you
-go in the morning, I shall not see you again until you return from your
-travels.” And he laughed a little.
-
-“Well, I’m certainly going to-morrow morning,” said Fred, in answer to
-the “if.”
-
-“You ought to have a little money with you,” said Mr. Barnard, taking
-out his wallet.
-
-“No, sir, I thank you,” said Fred; “but I’d rather not have it.”
-
-His father looked surprised.
-
-“I think it’s luckier to start without it,” said Fred, in explanation.
-
-“Very well! Luck go with you!” said Mr. Barnard, as he drove off.
-
-“Do you think it best to go without any money at all?” said I. “It
-seems to me it would be better to have a little.”
-
-“No,” said Fred; “a fellow ought to depend on himself, and trust to
-luck. It wouldn’t be any fun at all to stop at taverns and pay for
-meals and lodging, just like ordinary travelers. And then, if people
-saw I had money to pay for things, they wouldn’t believe I was going to
-seek my fortune.”
-
-“Why, do we want them to know that?” said I.
-
-“_I_ do,” said he.
-
-“That isn’t the way the boys in the stories do,” said I.
-
-“And that’s just where they missed it,” said Fred; “or would, if they
-lived nowadays. Don’t you see that everybody that wants anything lets
-everybody know it? When I’m on my travels, I’m going to tell every one
-what I’m after. That’s the way to find out where to go and what to do.”
-
-“Won’t some of them fool you,” said I, “and tell you lies, and send you
-on the wrong road?”
-
-“A fellow’s got to look out for that,” said Fred, knowingly. “We
-needn’t believe all they say.”
-
-“What must we take in our bundles?” said I.
-
-“I’m going to take some cookies, and a Bible, and a tin cup, and a ball
-of string, and a pint of salt,” said Fred.
-
-“What’s the salt for?” said I.
-
-“We may have to camp out some nights,” said Fred, “and live on what we
-can find. There are lots of things you can find in the woods and fields
-to live on; but some of them ain’t good without salt--mushrooms, for
-instance.” Fred was very fond of mushrooms.
-
-“And is the string to tie up the bags of money?” said I--not meaning to
-be at all sarcastic.
-
-“O, no!” said Fred; “but string’s always handy to have. We may want to
-set snares for game, or tie up things that break, or catch fish. And
-then if you have to stay all night in a house where the people look
-suspicious, you can fix a string so that if any one opens the door of
-your room, it’ll wake you up.”
-
-“If that happened, you’d want a pistol--wouldn’t you?” said I. “Or else
-it wouldn’t do much good to be waked up.”
-
-“I’d take a pistol, if I had one,” said Fred; “but I can get along
-without it. You can always hit ’em over the head with a chair, or a
-pitcher, or something. You know you can swing a pitcher full of water
-around quick, and not spill a drop; and if you should hit a man a fair
-blow with it, ’twould knock him senseless. Besides, it’s dangerous
-using a pistol in a house. Sometimes the bullets go through the wall,
-and kill innocent persons.”
-
-“We don’t want to do that,” said I.
-
-“No,” said Fred; “that would be awful unlucky.”
-
-Then he felt of the handkerchief again, said he guessed it was dry
-enough, and took it off from the line.
-
-“Fred,” said I, “how much _is_ a fortune?”
-
-“That depends on your ideas,” said Fred, as he smoothed the
-handkerchief over his knee. “I should not be satisfied with less than a
-hundred thousand dollars.”
-
-“I ought to be going home to get ready,” said I. “What time do we
-start?”
-
-“Five o’clock exactly,” said Fred.
-
-So we agreed to meet at the horse-block, in front of the house, a
-minute or two before five the next morning, and start simultaneously on
-the search for fortune.
-
-I went home, and asked mother if there was a red handkerchief, with
-round white spots on it, in the house.
-
-“I think there is,” said she. “What do you want with it?”
-
-I told her all about our plan, just as Fred and I had arranged it. She
-smiled, said she hoped we would be successful, and went to get the
-handkerchief.
-
-It proved to be just like Fred’s, except that the spots were yellow,
-and had little red dots in the middle. I thought that would do, and
-then asked her for the salt, the cup, and the cookies. She gave me her
-pint measure full of salt, and as she had no cookies in the house, she
-substituted four sandwiches.
-
-“But,” said I, “won’t you want to use this cup before I get back?”
-
-“I think not,” said she, with a twinkle in her eye, which puzzled me
-then, but which afterward I understood.
-
-I got my little Bible, and some twine, and then went into the yard to
-hunt up a stick to carry the bundle on. I found a slender spoke from an
-old carriage-wheel, and adopted it at once. “That,” said I to myself,
-as I handled and “hefted” it, “would be just the thing to hit a burglar
-over the head with.”
-
-I fixed the bundle all ready for a start, and went to bed in good
-season. Mother rose early, got me a nice breakfast, and called me at
-half past four.
-
-“Mother,” said I, as feelings of gratitude rose within me at the
-excellence of the meal, “how does a camel’s-hair shawl look?”
-
-“I don’t know, my son,” said she. “I never saw one.”
-
-“Never saw one!” said I. “Well, you _shall_ see one, a big one, if I
-find my fortune.”
-
-“Thank you,” said mother, and smiled again that peculiar smile.
-
-Fred and I met promptly at the horse-block. He greatly admired my
-stick; his was an old hoe-handle, sawed short. I gave him two of my
-sandwiches for half of his cookies, and we tied up the bundles snugly,
-and slung them over our shoulders.
-
-“How long do you think it will take us?” said I.
-
-“Maybe three or four years--maybe more,” said he.
-
-“Let us agree to meet again on this spot five years, from to-day,” said
-I.
-
-“All right!” said Fred; and he took out a bit of lead pencil, and wrote
-the date on the side of the block.
-
-“The rains and snows will wash that off before the five years are up,”
-said I.
-
-“Never mind! we can remember,” said Fred. “And now,” he continued, as
-he shook hands with me, “don’t look back. _I’m_ not going to; it isn’t
-lucky, and it’ll make us want to be home again. Good-bye!”
-
-“Good-bye! Remember, five years,” said I.
-
-He took the east road, I the west, and neither looked back.
-
-I think I must have walked about four miles without seeing any human
-being. Then I fell in with a boy, who was driving three cows to
-pasture, and we scraped acquaintance.
-
-“Where y’ goin’?” said he, eyeing my bundle.
-
-“A long journey,” said I.
-
-“Chiny?” said he.
-
-“Maybe so--maybe not,” said I.
-
-“What y’ got t’ sell?” said he.
-
-“Nothing,” said I; “I’m only a traveler not a peddler. Can you tell me
-whose house that is?”
-
-“That big white one?” said he; “that’s Hathaway’s.”
-
-“It looks new,” said I.
-
-“Yes, ’tis, spick an’ span,” said he. “Hathaway’s jest moved into it;
-used to live in that little brown one over there.”
-
-“Mr. Hathaway must be rich,” said I.
-
-“Jolly! I guess he is!--wish I was half as rich,” said the boy. “Made
-’s money on the rise of prop’ty. Used to own all this land round here,
-when ’twas a howlin’ wilderness. I’ve heard dad say so lots o’ times.
-There he is now.”
-
-“Who?--your father?” said I.
-
-“No; Hathaway.” And the boy pointed to a very old, white-headed man,
-who was leaning on a cane, and looking up at the cornice of the house.
-
-“He looks old,” said I.
-
-“He is, awful old,” said the boy. “Can’t live much longer. His
-daughter Nancy’ll take the hull. Ain’t no other relations.”
-
-“How old is Nancy?” said I; and if I had been a few years older myself,
-the question might have been significant; but among all the methods I
-had thought over of acquiring a fortune, that of marrying one was not
-included.
-
-“O, she’s gray-headed too,” said the boy, “’n a post, ’nd blind ’s a
-bat. I wish the old man couldn’t swaller a mouthful o’ breakfast till
-he’d give me half what he’s got.” And with this charitable expression
-he turned with the cows into the lane, and I saw him no more.
-
-While I was meditating on the venerable but not venerated Mr. Hathaway
-and his property, a wagon came rumbling along behind me.
-
-“Don’t you want to ride?” said the driver, as I stepped aside to let it
-pass.
-
-I thanked him, and climbed to a place beside him on the rough seat. He
-was in his shirt-sleeves, and wore a torn straw hat. He had reddish
-side-whiskers, and his chin needed shaving, badly.
-
-“Got far to go?” said he, as the team started up again.
-
-“I expect to walk all day,” said I.
-
-“Then you must get a lift when you can,” said he. “Don’t be afraid to
-ask. A good many that wouldn’t invite you, as I did, would let you ride
-if you asked them.”
-
-I promised to remember his advice.
-
-“Ever drive a team?” said he.
-
-“Not much,” said I.
-
-“I want a good boy to drive team,” said he. “Suppose you could learn.”
-And then he began to talk to the horses, and to whistle.
-
-“How much would you pay?” said I.
-
-“I’d give a good smart boy ten dollars a month and board,” said he.
-“Git ap, Doc!”
-
-“How much of that could he save?” said I.
-
-“Save eight dollars a month easy enough, if he’s careful of his
-clothes, and don’t want to go to every circus that comes along,” said
-he.
-
-I made a mental calculation: “Eight times twelve are ninety-six--into
-a hundred thousand--one thousand and forty-one years, and some months.
-O, yes! interest--well, nearly a thousand years.” Then I said aloud, “I
-guess I won’t hire; don’t believe I’d make a very good teamster.”
-
-“I think you would; and it’s good wages,” said he.
-
-“Nobody but Methuselah could get rich at it,” said I.
-
-“Rich?” said he. “Of course you couldn’t get rich teaming. If that’s
-what you’re after, I’ll tell you what you do: plant a forest. Timber’s
-good property. The price of it’s more than doubled in ten years past,
-and it’ll be higher yet. You plant a tree, and it’ll grow while you
-sleep. Chess won’t choke it, and the weevil can’t eat it. You don’t
-have to hoe it, nor mow it, nor pick it, nor rotate it, nor feed it,
-nor churn it, nor nothing. That’s the beauty of it. And you plant a
-forest of trees, and in time it’ll make you a rich man.”
-
-“How much time?” said I.
-
-“Well, that piece of timber you see over there,--that’s Eph Martin’s;
-he’s going to cut it next season. The biggest trees must be--well,
-perhaps eighty years old. You reckon up the interest on the cost of the
-land, and you’ll see it’s a good investment. I wish I had such a piece.”
-
-“Why don’t you plant one?” said I.
-
-“O, I’m too old! My grandfather ought to have done it for me. Whoa!
-Doc. Whoa! Tim.”
-
-He drew up at a large, red barn, where a man and a boy were grinding a
-scythe. I jumped down, and trudged on.
-
-After I had gone a mile or two, I began to feel hungry, and sat done
-on a stone, under a great oak tree, to eat a sandwich. Before I knew
-it I had eaten two, and then I was thirsty. There was a well in a
-door-yard close by, and I went to it. The bucket was too heavy for me
-to lift, and so I turned the salt out of my cup in a little pile on a
-clean-looking corner of the well-curb, and drank.
-
-The woman of the house came to the door, and took a good look at me;
-then she asked if I would not rather have a drink of milk. I said
-I would, and she brought a large bowlful, which I sat down on the
-door-step to enjoy.
-
-Presently a sun-browned, barefooted boy, wearing a new chip hat, and
-having his trousers slung by a single suspender, came around the corner
-of the house, and stopped before me.
-
-“Got any Shanghais at your house?” said he.
-
-“No!”
-
-“Any Cochins?”
-
-“No!”
-
-“Any Malays?”
-
-“No!”
-
-“What _have_ you got?”
-
-“About twenty common hens,” said I, perceiving that his thoughts were
-running on fancy breeds of fowls.
-
-“Don’t want to buy a nice pair of Shanghais--do you?” said he.
-
-“I couldn’t take them to-day,” said I.
-
-“Let’s go look at them,” said he; and I followed him toward the barn.
-
-“This is _my_ hennery,” said he, with evident pride, as we came to a
-small yard which was inclosed with a fence made of long, narrow strips
-of board, set up endwise, and nailed to a slight railing. Inside was a
-low shed, with half a dozen small entrances near the ground.
-
-“Me and Jake built this,” said he. “Jake’s my brother.”
-
-He unbuckled a strap that fastened the gate, and we went inside. A few
-fowls, of breeds unfamiliar to me, were scratching about the yard.
-
-“Don’t you call them nice hens?” said he.
-
-“I guess they are,” said I; “but I don’t know much about hens.”
-
-“Don’t you?” said he. “Then I’ll tell you something about them. There’s
-money in hens. Father says so, and I know it’s so. I made fifty-one
-dollars and thirteen cents on these last year. I wish I had a million.”
-
-“A million dollars,” said I, “is a good deal of money. I should be
-satisfied with one tenth of that.”
-
-“I meant a million hens,” said he. “I’d rather have a million hens than
-a million dollars.”
-
-I went through a mental calculation similar to the one I had indulged
-in while riding with the teamster: “Fifty-one, thirteen--almost two
-thousand years. Great Cæsar! Yes, Great Cæsar sure enough! I ought
-to have begun keeping hens about the time Cassius was egging on the
-conspirators to lay out that gentleman. But I forgot the interest
-again. Call it fifteen hundred.”
-
-“Let’s go in and look at the nests,” said the boy, opening the door of
-the shed.
-
-The nests were in a row of boxes nailed to the wall. He took out some
-of the eggs, and showed them to me. Several had pencil-writing on the
-shell, intended to denote the breed. I remember _Gaim_, _Schanghy_, and
-_Cotching_.
-
-“There’s a pair of Shanghais,” said he as he went out, pointing with
-one hand while he tightened the gate-strap with the other, “that I’ll
-sell you for five dollars. Or I’ll sell you half a dozen eggs for six
-dollars.”
-
-I told him I couldn’t trade that day, but would certainly come and see
-him when I wanted to buy any fancy hens.
-
-“If you see anybody,” said he, as we parted, “that wants a nice pair of
-Shanghais reasonable, you tell ’em where I live.”
-
-“I will,” said I, and pushed on.
-
-“Money in hens, eh?” said I to myself. “Then if they belonged to me,
-I’d kill them, and get it out of them at once, notwithstanding the
-proverb about the goose.”
-
-After some further journeying I came to a roadside tavern. A large,
-square sign, with a faded picture of a horse, and the words SCHUYLER’S
-HOTEL, faintly legible, hung from an arm that extended over the road
-from a high post by the pump.
-
-I sat down on the steps, below a group of men who were tilted back in
-chairs on the piazza. One, who wore a red shirt, and chewed a very
-large quid of tobacco, was just saying,--
-
-“Take it by and through, a man can make wages at the mines, and that’s
-all he can make.”
-
-“Unless he strikes a big nugget,” said a little man with one eye.
-
-“He might be there a hundred years, and not do that,” said Red Shirt.
-“I never struck one.”
-
-“And again he might strike it the very first day,” said One Eye.
-
-“Again he might,” said Red Shirt; “but I’d rather take my chances
-keeping tavern. Look at Schuyler, now. He’ll die a rich man.”
-
-The one who seemed to be Schuyler was well worth looking at. I had
-never seen so much man packed into so much chair; and it was an exact
-fit--just enough chair for the man, just enough man for the chair.
-Schuyler’s boundary from his chin to his toe was nearly, if not
-exactly, a straight line.
-
-“Die rich?” said One Eye. “He’s a livin’ rich; he’s rich to-day.”
-
-“If any of you gentlemen want to make your fortune keeping a hotel,”
-said Schuyler, “I’ll sell on easy terms.”
-
-“How much, ’squire?” said Red Shirt.
-
-[Illustration: “HE TOOK THE EAST ROAD, I THE WEST, AND NEITHER LOOKED
-BACK.”--See page 61.]
-
-“Fifteen,” answered Schuyler.
-
-“Fifteen thousand--furniture and all?” said One Eye.
-
-“Everything,” said Schuyler.
-
-“Your gran’f’ther bought the place for fifteen hundred,” said One Eye.
-“But money was wuth more then.”
-
-While listening to this conversation, I had taken out my cookies, and I
-was eating the last of them, when One Eye made his last recorded remark.
-
-“Won’t you come in, sonny, and stay over night?” said Schuyler.
-
-“Thank you, sir,” said I; “but I can’t stop.”
-
-“Then don’t be mussing up my clean steps,” said he.
-
-I looked at him to see if he was in earnest; for I was too hungry to
-let a single crum fall, and could not conceive what should make a muss.
-The whole company were staring at me most uncomfortably. Without saying
-another word, I picked up my stick and bundle, and walked off.
-
-“Thirteen thousand five hundred,” said I to myself, slowly,--“in three
-generations--four thousand five hundred to a generation. I ought to
-have come over with Christopher Columbus, and set up a tavern for the
-red-skins to lounge around. Then maybe if I never let any little Indian
-boys eat their lunches on the steps, I’d be a rich man now. Fifteen
-thousand dollars--and so mean, so abominably mean--and such a crowd of
-loafers for company. No, I wouldn’t keep tavern if I could get rich in
-one generation.”
-
-At the close of this soliloquy, I found I had instinctively turned
-towards home when I left Schuyler’s Hotel. “It’s just as well,” said
-I, “just as well! I’d rather stay at home and mind my business, like
-father, and not have any fortune, if that’s the way people get them
-nowadays.”
-
-I had the good luck to fall in with my friend the teamster, who gave me
-a longer lift than before, and sounded me once more on the subject of
-hiring out to drive team for him.
-
-As I passed over the crest of the last hill in the road, I saw
-something in the distance that looked very much like another boy with a
-bundle over his shoulder. I waved my hat. It waved its hat. We met at
-the horse-block, each carrying a broad grin the last few rods of the
-way.
-
-“Let’s see your fortune,” said I, as I laid my bundle on the block.
-
-“Let’s see yours,” said he, as he laid his beside it.
-
-“You started the plan,” said I; “so you tell your adventures first.”
-
-Thereupon Fred told his story, which I give nearly in his own words.
-
-He traveled a long distance before he met with any incident. Then he
-came to a house that had several windows boarded up, and looked as
-if it might not be inhabited. While Fred stood looking at it, and
-wondering about it, he saw a shovelful of earth come out of one of
-the cellar windows. It was followed in a few seconds by another, and
-another, at regular intervals.
-
-“I know how it is,” said Fred. “Some old miser has lived and died in
-that house. He used to bury his money in the cellar; and now somebody’s
-digging for it. I mean to see if I can’t help him.”
-
-Going to the window, he stooped down and looked in. At first he saw
-nothing but the gleam of a new shovel. But when he had looked longer he
-discerned the form of the man who wielded it.
-
-“Hello!” said Fred, as the digger approached the window to throw out a
-shovelful.
-
-“Hello! Who are you?” said the man.
-
-“I’m a boy going to seek my fortune,” said Fred. “What are you digging
-for?”
-
-“Digging for a fortune,” said the man, taking up another shovelful.
-
-“May I help you?” said Fred.
-
-“Yes, if you like.”
-
-“And have half?”
-
-“Have all you find,” said the man, forcing down his shovel with his
-foot.
-
-Fred ran around to the cellar door, laid down his bundle on the grass
-beside it, and entered. The man pointed to an old shovel with a large
-corner broken off, and Fred picked it up and went to work.
-
-Nearly half of the cellar bottom had been lowered about a foot by
-digging, and the man was lowering the remainder. With Fred’s help,
-after about two hours of hard work, it was all cut down to the lower
-level.
-
-Fred had kept his eyes open, and scrutinized every shovelful; but
-nothing like a coin had gladdened his sight. Once he thought he had
-one, and ran to the light with it. But it proved to be only the iron
-ear broken off from some old bucket.
-
-“I guess that’ll do,” said the man, wiping his brow, when the leveling
-was completed.
-
-“Do?” said Fred, in astonishment. “Why, we haven’t found any of the
-money yet.”
-
-“What money?”
-
-“The money the old miser buried, of course.”
-
-The man laughed heartily. “I wasn’t digging for any miser’s money,”
-said he.
-
-“You said so,” said Fred.
-
-“O, no!” said the man. “I said I was digging for a fortune. Come and
-sit down, and I’ll tell you all about it.”
-
-They took seats on the highest of the cellar steps that led out of
-doors.
-
-“You see,” continued the man, “my wife went down cellar one day, and
-struck her forehead against one of those beams; and she died of it.
-If she had lived a week longer, she’d have inherited a very pretty
-property. So I’ve lowered the cellar floor; and if I should have
-another wife, her head couldn’t reach the beams, unless she was very
-tall--taller than I am. So if _she_ inherits a fortune, the cellar
-won’t prevent us getting it. That’s the fortune I was digging for.”
-
-“It’s a mean trick to play on a boy; and if I was a man, I’d lick you,”
-said Fred, as he shouldered his bundle and walked away.
-
-Two or three miles farther down the road he came to a small blacksmith
-shop. The smith, a stout, middle-aged man, was sitting astride of a
-small bench with long legs, making horseshoe nails on a little anvil
-that rose from one end of it.
-
-Fred went in, and asked if he might sit there a while to rest.
-
-“Certainly,” said the blacksmith, as he threw a finished nail into an
-open drawer under the bench. “How far have you come?”
-
-“I can’t tell,” said Fred; “it must be as much as ten miles.”
-
-“Got far to go?”
-
-“I don’t know how far. I’m going to seek my fortune.”
-
-The smith let his hammer rest on the anvil, and took a good look at
-Fred. “You seem to be in earnest,” said he.
-
-“I am,” said Fred.
-
-“Don’t you know that gold dollars don’t go rolling up hill in these
-days, for boys to chase them, and we haven’t any fairies in this
-country, dancing by moonlight over buried treasure?” said the smith.
-
-“O, yes, I know that,” said Fred. “But people get rich in these days as
-much as ever they did. And I want to find out the best way to do it.”
-
-“What is that nail made of?” said the smith, holding out one.
-
-“Iron,” said Fred, wondering what that had to do with a boy seeking his
-fortune.
-
-“And that hammer?”
-
-“Iron.”
-
-“And that anvil?”
-
-“Iron.”
-
-“Well, don’t you see,” said the smith, resting his hammer on the anvil,
-and leaning over it toward Fred,--“don’t you see that everything
-depends on iron? A farmer can’t cultivate the ground until he has a
-plow; and that plow is made of iron. A butcher can’t cut up a critter
-until he has a knife; and that knife is made of iron. A tailor can’t
-make a garment without a needle; and that needle is made of iron. You
-can’t build a ship without iron, nor start a mill, nor arm a regiment.
-The stone age, and the brass age, and the golden age are all gone by.
-This is the iron age; and iron is the basis of all wealth. The richest
-man is the man that has the most iron. Railroads are made of iron, and
-the richest men are those that own railroads.”
-
-“How can one man own a railroad?” said Fred, amazed at the vastness of
-such wealth.
-
-“Well, he can’t exactly, unless he steals it,” said the smith.
-
-“I should like to own a railroad,” said Fred; and he thought what fun
-he might have, as well as profit, being conductor on his own train;
-“but I didn’t come to steal; I want to find a fortune honestly.”
-
-“Then look for it in iron,” said the smith. “Iron in some form always
-paves the road to prosperity.”
-
-“Would blacksmithing be a good way?” said Fred.
-
-“Now you’ve hit it,” said the smith. “I haven’t got rich myself, and
-probably never shall. But I didn’t take the right course. I was a
-sailor when I was young, and spent half my life wandering around the
-world, before I settled down and turned blacksmith. I dare say if I had
-learned the trade early enough, and had gone and set up a shop in some
-large place, or some rising place, and hadn’t always been so low in my
-charges, I might be a rich man.”
-
-Fred thought the blacksmith must be a very entertaining and learned
-man, whom it would be pleasant as well as profitable to work with. So,
-after thinking it over a few minutes, he said,--
-
-“Do you want to hire a boy to learn the business?”
-
-“I’ll give you a chance,” said the smith, “and see what you can do.”
-Then he went outside and drew in a wagon, which was complete except
-part of the iron-work, and started up his fire, and thrust in some
-small bars of iron.
-
-Fred laid aside his bundle, threw off his jacket, and announced that
-he was ready for work. The smith set him to blowing the bellows, and
-afterward gave him a light sledge, and showed him how to strike the
-red-hot bar on the anvil, alternating with the blows of the smith’s own
-hammer.
-
-At first it was very interesting to feel the soft iron give at every
-blow, and see the sparks fly, and the bars, and rods taking the
-well-known shapes of carriage-irons. But either the smith had reached
-the end of his political economy, or else he was too much in earnest
-about his work to deliver orations; his talk now was of “swagging,” and
-“upsetting,” and “countersinking,” and “taps,” and “dies”--all of which
-terms he taught Fred the use of.
-
-Fred was quick enough to learn, but had never been fond of work; and
-this was work that made the sweat roll down his whole body. After an
-hour or two, he gave it up.
-
-“I think I’ll look further for my fortune,” said he; “this is too hard
-work.”
-
-“All right,” said the smith; “but maybe you’ll fare worse. You’ve
-earned a little something, anyway;” and he drew aside his leather
-apron, thrust his hand into his pocket, and brought out seven cents;
-which Fred accepted with thanks, and resumed his journey.
-
-His next encounter was with a farmer, who sat in the grassy corner
-of a field, under the shade of a maple tree, eating his dinner. This
-reminded Fred that it was noon, and that he was hungry.
-
-“How d’e do, mister?” said Fred, looking through the rail-fence. “I
-should like to come over and take dinner with you.”
-
-“You’ll have to furnish your own victuals,” said the farmer.
-
-“That I can do,” said Fred, and climbed over the fence, and sat down by
-his new acquaintance.
-
-“Where you bound for?” said the farmer, as Fred opened his bundle, and
-took out a sandwich.
-
-“Going to seek my fortune,” said Fred.
-
-“You don’t look like a runaway ’prentice,” said the farmer; “but that’s
-a curious answer to a civil question.”
-
-“It’s true,” said Fred. “I _am_ going to seek my fortune.”
-
-“Where do you expect to find it?”
-
-“I can’t tell--I suppose I must hunt for it.”
-
-“Well, I can tell you where to look for it, if you’re in earnest; and
-’tain’t so very far off, either,” said the farmer, as he raised the jug
-of milk to his mouth.
-
-Fred indicated by his attitude that he was all attention, while the
-farmer took a long drink.
-
-“In the ground,” said he, as he sat down the jug with one hand, and
-brushed the other across his mouth. “There’s no wealth but what comes
-out of the ground in some way. All the trees and plants, all the
-grains, and grasses, and garden-sass, all the brick and stone, all
-the metals--iron, gold, silver, copper--everything comes out of the
-ground. That’s where man himself came from, according to the Bible:
-‘Dust thou art, and unto dust shalt thou return.’ And the first primary
-foundation of it all is agriculture. Hewson, the blacksmith, pretends
-to say it’s iron; and he maintained that side in the debating club at
-the last meeting. But I maintained it was agriculture, and I maintain
-so still. Says I, ‘Mr. President, what’s your tailor, and your sailor,
-and your ship-builder, and your soldier, and your blacksmith going to
-do without something to eat? [Here the farmer made a vigorous gesture
-by bringing down his fist upon his knee.] They can’t eat needles, nor
-spikes, nor guns, nor anvils. The farmer’s got to feed ’em, every one
-on ’em. And they’ve got to have a good breakfast before they can do
-a good day’s work, and a dinner in the middle of it, and a supper at
-the end of it. Can’t plow without iron?’ says I. ‘Why, Mr. President,
-in Syria and thereabouts they plow with a crooked limb of a tree to
-this day. The gentleman can see a picture of it in Barnes’s Notes, if
-he has access to that valuable work.’ And says I, ‘Mr. President, who
-was first in the order of time--Adam the farmer, or Tubal Cain the
-blacksmith? No, sir; Adam was the precursor of Tubal Cain; Adam had to
-be created before Tubal Cain could exist. First the farmer, and then
-the blacksmith;--that, Mr. President, is the divine order in the great
-procession of creation.’”
-
-Here the farmer stopped, and cut a piece of meat with his pocket-knife.
-
-“Boy,” he continued, “if you want a fortune, you must dig it out of the
-ground. You won’t find one anywhere else.”
-
-Fred thought of his recent unpleasant experience in digging for a
-fortune, and asked, “Isn’t digging generally pretty hard work.”
-
-“Yes,” said the farmer, as he took up his hoe, and rose to his feet;
-“it _is_ hard work; but it’s a great deal more respectable than
-wandering around like a vagrant, picking up old horse-shoes, and
-hollering ‘Money!’ at falling stars.”
-
-Fred thought the man was somehow getting personal. So he took his
-bundle, climbed the fence, and said good-bye to him.
-
-He walked on until he came to a fork of the road, and there he stopped,
-considering which road he would take. He could find no sign-board of
-any sort, and was about to toss one of his pennies to determine the
-question, when he saw a white steeple at some distance down the right
-hand road. “It’s always good luck to pass a church,” said he, and took
-that road.
-
-When he reached the church, he sat down on the steps to rest. While
-he sat there, thinking over all he had seen and heard that day, a
-gentleman wearing a black coat, a high hat, and a white cravat, came
-through the gate of a little house almost buried in vines and bushes,
-that stood next to the church. He saw Fred, and approached him,
-saying,--
-
-“Whither away, my little pilgrim?”
-
-“I am going to seek my fortune,” said Fred.
-
-“Haven’t you a home?”
-
-“Yes, sir.”
-
-“Parents?”
-
-“Yes, sir.”
-
-“Are they good to you?”
-
-“O, yes, sir.”
-
-“Then you are fortunate already,” said the gentleman. “When I was at
-your age, I had neither home nor parents, and the people where I lived
-were very unkind.”
-
-“But my father isn’t rich,” said Fred; “and he never will be.”
-
-“And you want to be rich?” said the gentleman.
-
-“Yes, sir. I thought I’d try to be,” said Fred.
-
-“What for?”
-
-“What for? Why--why--so as to have the money.”
-
-“And what would you do with the money, if you had it?”
-
-“I’d--I’d use it,” said Fred, beginning to feel that he had come to
-debating school without sufficiently understanding the question.
-
-“Do you see that pile of large stones near my barn?” said the
-gentleman. “I’ll give you those, and lend you a wheelbarrow to get them
-home.”
-
-“I thank you,” said Fred; “but I don’t want them. They’re of no use.”
-
-“O, yes, they are! You can build a house with them,” said the gentleman.
-
-“But I’m not ready to build a house,” said Fred. “I haven’t any land to
-build it on, nor any other materials, nor anything to put into it; and
-I’m not old enough to be married and keep house.”
-
-“Very true, my son! and if you had a cart-load of money now, it
-wouldn’t be of any more value to you than a cart-load of those building
-stones. But, after you have been to school a few years longer, and
-trained yourself to some business, and made a man of yourself, and
-developed your character, then you will have tastes, and capacities,
-and duties that require money; and if you get it as you go along, and
-always have enough to satisfy them, and none in excess to encumber you,
-that will be the happiest fortune you can find.”
-
-Fred took a few minutes to think of it. Then he said,--
-
-“I believe you have told me the truth, and set me on the right track. I
-will go home again, and try to make a man of myself first, and a rich
-man afterward.”
-
-“Before you start, perhaps you would like to come into my house and get
-rested, and look at some pictures.”
-
-Fred accepted the invitation. The lady of the house gave him a
-delicious lunch, and he spent an hour in the clergyman’s study, looking
-over two or three portfolios of prints and drawings, which they
-explained to him. Then he bade them good-bye, shouldered his bundle,
-and started for home, having the good fortune to catch a long ride, and
-arriving just as I did.
-
-“What I’ve learned,” said he, as he finished his story, “is, that you
-can get rich if you don’t care for anything else; but you’ve either
-got to work yourself to death for it, or else cheat somebody. You can
-get it out of the ground by working, or you can get it out of men by
-cheating. But who wants to do either? I don’t. And I believe it isn’t
-much use being rich, any way.”
-
-Then I told Fred my adventures. “And what I’ve learned,” said I, “is,
-that you can get rich without much trouble, if you’re willing to wait
-all your life for forests to grow and property to rise. But what’s the
-use of money to an old man or an old woman that’s blind and deaf, and
-just ready to die? Or what good does it do a mean man, with a lot of
-loafers round him? It can’t make him a gentleman.”
-
-And meditating upon this newly-acquired philosophy, Fred and I went to
-our homes.
-
-“Mother,” said I, “I’ve got back.”
-
-“Yes, my son, I expected you about this time.”
-
-“But I haven’t found a fortune, nor brought your camel’s-hair shawl.”
-
-“It’s just as well,” said she; “for I haven’t anything else that would
-be suitable to wear with it.”
-
-[Illustration]
-
-
-
-
-THE LITTLE CHRISTMAS PIES.
-
-BY E. F.
-
-
-Floris shut up her book, and looked at mamma. “Mamma, I wish we could
-be s’prised Christmas!”
-
-“Surprised.” It was a moment before mamma understood. “It is somewhat
-difficult,” she said then, “to surprise little girls who feel at
-liberty to go to mamma’s drawers at any time, and to untie all the
-packages when the delivery-man comes. In a small house like this people
-have to help surprise themselves.”
-
-“Who wants to help surprise theirselves!” exclaimed little Katy. “You
-ought to be cunning, mamma, and hide things; a ‘truly’ hide--you
-know--and not just in bureau drawers.”
-
-“_That’s_ not what I mean at all, Katy,” said Floris. “Mamma, I mean
-a _surprise_, and not our Christmas presents. Of course, Katy and I
-know what them’ll be, or _most_ know. It’ll be our new hats, or some
-aprons, or something we’d had to have any way, and just one of the
-every-day Christmas presents besides; a book, or a horn of candy. I
-most know mine’ll be a silver thimble this year, ’cause I lost my old
-one, and I heard you tell papa that Katy’d better have a workbox, so’s
-to s’courage her to learn sewing more. Now, see ’f ’tain’t so.”
-
-Mamma sat before her little daughters, her guilt confessed in her looks.
-
-“Not that we blame you, mamma,” added Floris, kindly. “I’m old ’nough
-now to know that if Santa Klaus brings us anything, he comes round
-beforehand, and gets every cent they cost out of papa--great Santa
-Klaus, that is!”
-
-“But what did you mean by a surprise, Floris?”
-
-“O, I d’no, quite,” answered Floris. “But I thought I sh’d like to have
-something happen that never had before; something planned for me ’n’
-Katy that we didn’t know a breath about, and there was no chance of
-prying into, so that ’twould honestly s’prise us. I never was s’prised
-in my life yet, mamma. I always found out some way.”
-
-Mrs. Dewey smiled. She went out to prepare dinner, and nothing more
-was said; and Miss Floris took up her book with a sigh.
-
-But at night, while she was buttoning the two white night-dresses,
-Mrs. Dewey returned to the subject. “My little daughters, if you will
-keep out of the kitchen to-morrow, all day, I think I can promise that
-something very strange and delightful shall happen on Christmas.”
-
-Four little feet jumped right up and down, two little faces flew up
-in her own, four little hands caught hold of her, four bright eyes
-transfixed her--indeed, they came pretty near having the secret right
-out of her on the spot.
-
-“O, mamma! What _is_ it?”
-
-“You must be very anxious to be ‘truly s’prised,’” remarked mamma.
-
-Floris saw the point. She subsided at once. She smiled at mamma with
-the first elder-daughter smile that had ever crossed the bright
-child-face.
-
-“I guess I _shall_ be ‘truly s’prised’ if we _are_ s’prised,” she said,
-with a funny little grimace, as she laid her head on the pillow.
-
-“Now, remember, it is to be a ‘truly keep-out,’” warned Mrs. Dewey.
-“You are not to enter the kitchen at all--not once all day to-morrow.”
-
-“Why, surely, mamma Dewey, you are not to do anything towa’ds it before
-breakfast,” reasoned little Katy.
-
-“I shall at least notice whether I am obeyed.”
-
-“What’ll happen if we don’t?” inquired Katy.
-
-“Nothing’ll happen then,” said mamma, quietly.
-
-The little voices said no more, and mamma went down stairs. They said
-not a single word more, because the little Deweys were so constructed
-that had there not been a standing command that they should not speak
-after mamma closed the door, their little pink tongues would have run
-all night; but they squeezed each other’s hands very tightly, and also
-remained awake somewhat longer than usual.
-
-Mrs. Dewey smiled next morning to see her daughters seated at their
-lessons in that part of the sitting-room furthest from the door
-that opened into the hall and thus into the kitchen. They never
-once directly referred to last night’s conversation; but they were
-extremely civil to her personally, most charmingly civil, obedient, and
-thoughtful. Indeed, Katy’s little round shingled head would bob out
-into the hall almost every time mamma’s step was heard. “You must let
-me bring you anything I can, mamma--anything I can, ’thout going into
-the kitchen, I mean.”
-
-But, to Katy’s disappointment, mamma wished no assistance. Floris
-offered to go down town, if mamma needed. But mamma wished nothing that
-Floris could do. However, to their delight, they saw the delivery-man,
-when he came, taking down lots of orders in his book. “Would it be
-w’ong to listen in the hall?” Katy whispered. “’Cause I could hear
-everything she told him, ’f I was a-mind to.”
-
-Floris told her it would be very wrong.
-
-The elder little girl studied, and played, and sang, and amused her
-doll all the morning, and refused to listen to any pleasant sound she
-heard from the kitchen. She shut her little nose, also, against a
-sudden whiff of deliciousness as some door opened. She even went to the
-well, and brought hard water for her room, because the rain water would
-have taken her near the forbidden regions.
-
-But little Katy was as restless as a bee. She had a thousand errands
-through the hall. When Floris reprimanded her, she said she didn’t
-’tend to go a-near the kitchen door. Floris looked out often; but, at
-last, the little one settled on the hall stairs with her paint-box, and
-the elder sister felt at rest.
-
-But even to her it finally grew a long forenoon. Before ten o’clock she
-found herself infected with the same restlessness. Then the various
-sounds which she heard distracted her, such busy sounds--she would, at
-last, have given almost anything to know what was going on out there.
-
-The mantel clock was just striking eleven when the hall door unclosed,
-and Katy’s plump little person partially appeared.
-
-“Come here, quick, quick! or she’ll be back. _I’ve found out, Flory!_”
-
-“O, _have_ you--Why, Katy Dewey!” Floris over-turned the music-stool
-as she ran. Katy, her head turned listeningly toward the kitchen door,
-blindly crowded a spoonful of something into her mouth.
-
-“There! isn’t that ’licious good? O, Floris, such things as I have
-seen out there!--the box of raisins is down on the table, and all her
-extrach Lubin bottles. I couldn’t stay to look much; but, Floris,
-there’s twelve of the most beautiful mince patties--O, the most
-beautiful! all iced, and ‘Merry Christmas,’ in pink sand, on every one,
-and there’s twelve more in the iron ready to fill--_wasn’t_ that I gave
-you _crammed_ with raisins!”
-
-Floris’s eyes danced. “Kit Dewey, I’ll bet we’re going to have a
-Christmas party--a party of little boys and girls! What else was there,
-do tell me!”
-
-“O, I d’no; there was heaps of raisins--and, _mebbe_, there was ice
-cream;” suddenly remembering Floris’s fondness for that delectable.
-
-Floris knew better than that; but still her eyes danced. Suddenly they
-heard the back kitchen door, and, as suddenly, Floris turned white.
-“The mince-spoon, Katy! You’ve brought the mince-spoon! Mamma’ll know!”
-
-Katy’s little mouth dropped open.
-
-“Quick! She’s coming this way!”
-
-Floris softly got into the sitting-room, so did Katy.
-
-“Where is the spoon?” hurriedly whispered the elder girl.
-
-“I stuffed it under the stair carpet, where that rod was up.”
-
-They could hear mamma coming through the hall. But she came only part
-way. After a pause, she returned to the kitchen.
-
-“Katy, what if she’s found it?”
-
-“She couldn’t.”
-
-They stole out into the hall. The spoon was gone!
-
-“O, Katy! I’ll bet you left it sticking out!” said Floris, and burst
-into tears. Katy did the same. With one accord they ascended the stairs
-to their room.
-
-When, with red eyes, they came down to dinner, they found mamma in
-the dining-room as placid as usual. The kitchen door was wide open.
-After dinner Floris was requested to wipe the dishes. Her work took
-her into every part of the kitchen domains, and her red eyes peered
-about sharply; but nothing unusual was to be seen--not one trace of the
-beautiful patties, not a raisin-stem, even!
-
-Christmas day came and went. Floris had her silver thimble, and Katy
-her work-box. The dinner table was in the usual holiday trim. But
-the little frosted pies, with the pink greetings, were not brought
-forward--no, and not one word was said concerning them, not even by
-mamma’s eyes.
-
-[Illustration]
-
-At night they cried softly in their little white bed, after mamma had
-gone down. “And, Floris, I ’member now, there was something else, under
-a white cloth, like a plate of kisses, I thought,” sobbed Katy, her wet
-little face pressed into the pillows; “and I shall always think she was
-going to make fruitcake, for there was citron all cut up, and there was
-almonds--”
-
-“Don’t, Katy! I don’t want to hear it! I _can’t_ hear it!” said
-Floris, in a thick voice; “and don’t let us disobey mamma more by
-talking.”
-
-But what did become of the beautiful, frosted, pink-lettered little
-pies--would you like to know?
-
-Floris and Katy cannot tell you; for never yet have mamma and her
-little daughters exchanged a word upon the subject--but I think _I_
-can. At least I was told that a factory-weaver’s family, where there
-were several little girls, had the most lovely of patties, and kisses,
-and sugar-plums sent them for their Christmas dinner last year.
-
-
-
-
-THE STRANGERS FROM THE SOUTH.
-
-BY ELLA FARMAN.
-
-
-Unless I take a long half mile circle, my daily walk to the post-office
-leads me down through an unsavory, wooden-built portion of town. I
-am obliged to pass several cheap groceries, which smell horribly of
-_sauer-kraut_ and Limburg cheese, a restaurant steamy with Frenchy
-soups, a livery stable, besides two or three barns, and some gloomy,
-windowless, shut-up buildings, of whose use I haven’t the slightest
-idea.
-
-Of course, when I go out in grand toilet, I take the half mile circle.
-But, being a business woman, and generally in a hurry, I usually
-go this short way in my short walking-dress and big parasol; and,
-probably, there is an indescribable expression to my nose, just as Mrs.
-Jack Graham says.
-
-Well, one morning I was going down town in the greatest hurry. I was
-trying to walk so fast that I needn’t breathe once going by the Dutch
-groceries; and I was almost to the open space which looks away off to
-the sparkling river, and the distant park, and the forenoon sun,--I
-always take a good, long, sweet breath there, coming and going,--when
-my eye was caught by a remarkable group across the street.
-
-Yes, during the night, evidently, while the town was asleep, there had
-been an arrival--strangers direct from the Sunny South.
-
-And there the remarkable-looking strangers sat, in a row, along the
-narrow step of one of the mysterious buildings I have alluded to. They
-were sunning themselves with all the delightful carelessness of the
-experienced traveler. Though, evidently, they had been presented with
-the liberty of the city, it was just as evident that they didn’t care a
-fig for sightseeing--not a fig, either, for the inhabitants. All they
-asked of our town was its sunshine. They had selected the spot where
-they could get the most of it. Through the open space opposite the sun
-streamed broadly; and the side of a weather-colored building is _so_
-warm!
-
-What a picture of _dolce far niente_, of “sweet-do-nothing,” it was! I
-stopped, hung my parasol over my shoulder,--there was a little too much
-sunshine for me,--and gazed at it.
-
-“O, how you do love it! You bask like animals! That fullness of
-enjoyment is denied to us white-skins. What a visible absorption of
-luster and heat! You are the true lotus-eaters!”
-
-The umber-colored creatures--I suppose they are as much warmer for
-being brown, as any brown surface is warmer than a white one. I never
-did see sunshine drank, and absorbed, and enjoyed as that was. It was a
-bit of Egypt and the Nile life. I could not bear to go on.
-
-[Illustration]
-
-Finally, I crossed the street to them. Not one of them stirred. The
-eldest brother was standing, leaning against the building. He turned
-one eye on me, and kept it there. At his feet lay a bulging, ragged
-satchel. Evidently he was the protector.
-
-The elder sister, with hands tucked snugly under her folded arms,
-winked and blinked at me dozily. The little boy with the Nubian lips
-was sound asleep,--a baby Osiris,--his chubby hands hiding together
-between his knees for greater warmth. The youngest sister, wrapped in
-an old woolen shawl, was the only uncomfortable one of the lot. There
-was no doze nor dream in her eyes yet--poor thing, _she_ was cold!
-
-I didn’t believe they had had anywhere to lay their heads during the
-night. Liberty of a city, to one kind of new arrivals, means just
-that, you know. Sundry crumbs indicated an absence of the conventional
-breakfast table. Poor little darkies!
-
-“Children,” I said, like a benevolently-disposed city marshal, “you
-mustn’t sit here in the street.”
-
-“We’s gwine on soon, mistis,” said the protector, meekly.
-
-“I ’low we ain’t, Jim!” The big sister said this without any diminution
-of the utter happiness of her look.
-
-“It’s powerful cold comin’ up fru the norf, mistis. I _mus’_ let ’em
-warm up once a day,” said Jim.
-
-“Up through the north! Pray, where are you going?”
-
-Jim twisted about. He looked down at the toe of his boot, reflectively.
-
-“I ex-pect, I ex-pect--”
-
-“You _spec_, Jim! You allers spectin’! Mistis, we’s _free_--we kin go
-anywhars!”
-
-I suspect there had been a great deal of long-suffering on the part of
-Jim. He burst out like flame from a smoldering fire,--
-
-“_Anywhars!_ That’s what ails niggas! Freedom means _anywhars_ to ’em,
-and so they’re nuffin’ nor nobody. You vagabon’, Rose Moncton, you
-_kin’t_ go anywhars much longer--not ’long o’ me!”
-
-“O, you white folksy Jim! I ’low this trompin’ was yer own plan. When
-you finds a town whar it’s any show of warm, I’ll hang up my things
-and stay, and not afore--ye hyar that! I ’low I won’t see Peyty and Kit
-a-freezin’!”
-
-She scowled at me, she actually did, as if I froze her with my pale
-face and cool leaf-green dress, and kept the sun off her, talking with
-that “white folksy Jim.”
-
-I fancied Jim was hoping I would say something more to them. I fancied
-he, at least, was in great need of a friend’s advice.
-
-“Where did you come from?” I asked him. But the other head of the
-family answered,--
-
-“Come from nuff sight warmer place than we’s goin’ anywhars.”
-
-“Rose is allers techy when she’s cold, mistis,” Jim apologized. “Ole
-Maum Phillis used fer to say as Rose’s temper goose-pimpled when the
-cold air struck it. We kim from Charleston, mistis. We’s speckin’ to
-work out some land for ourselves, and hev a home. We kim up norf to git
-wages, so as we kin all help at it. I’d like to stop hyar, mistis.”
-
-“Hyar! I ’low we’s goin’ soufard when we gits from dis yer, you Jim,”
-sniffed “Rose Moncton,” her face up to the sunshine.
-
-Poor Jim looked care-worn. I dare say my face was tolerably
-sympathetic. It felt so, at least.
-
-“Mistis,” the fellow said, “she’s kep us tackin’ souf an’ norf, souf
-an’ norf, all dis yer week, or we’d been somewhars. She don’t like de
-looks of no town _yet_. We’s slep’ roun’ in sheds six weeks now. I gits
-sawin’ an’ choppin’, an’ sich, to do once a day, while dey warms up in
-de sun, an’ eats a bite. Den up we gits, an’ tromps on. We’s got on so
-fur, but Rose ain’t clar at all yit whar we’ll stop. Mistis, whar is de
-warmest place _you_ knows on?”
-
-I thought better and better of myself as the heavy-faced fellow thus
-appealed to me. I felt flattered by his confidence in me. I always feel
-flattered when a strange kitty follows me, or the birdies hop near for
-my crumbs. But I will confess that no human vagabond had ever before so
-skillfully touched the soft place in my heart. Poor, dusky wanderer!
-he looked so hungry, he looked so worn-out, too, as a head of a family
-will when the other head pulls the other way.
-
-“Well, Jim, the warmest place I know of is in my kitchen. I left a
-rousing fire there ten minutes ago. You all stay here until I come
-back, which will be in about seven minutes; then you shall go home
-with me, and I will give you a good hot dinner. You may stay all
-night, if you like, and perhaps I can advise you. You will be rested,
-at the least, for a fresh start.”
-
-Rose Moncton lifted her listless head, and looked in my face. “Laws!”
-said she. “Laws!” said she again.
-
-Jim pulled his forelock to me, vailed the flash in his warm umbery eyes
-with a timely wink of the heavy lids. He composed himself at once into
-a waiting attitude.
-
-I heard another “Laws!” as I hastened away. “That young mistis is done
-crazy. She’ll nebber kim back hyar, ’pend on dat!” Such was Rose’s
-opinion of me.
-
-I opened my ears for Jim’s. But Jim made no reply.
-
-Father and mother had gone out of town for two days. Our hired girl had
-left. I really was “mistis” of the premises. If I chose to gather in a
-circle of shivering little “niggas” around my kitchen stove, and heat
-that stove red-hot, there was nobody to say I better not.
-
-I was back in five minutes, instead of seven. Jim stood straight up on
-his feet the moment he discovered me coming. Rose showed some faint
-signs of life and interest. “’Clar, now, mistis! Kim along, den, Jim,
-and see ye look to that there verlise. Hyar, you Kit!” She managed to
-rouse her sister with her foot, still keeping her hands warmly hidden,
-and her face to the sun.
-
-But the other head took the little ones actively in charge. “Come,
-Peyty, boy! come, Kit! we’s gwine now!”
-
-Peyty opened his eyes--how starry they were! “O, we goin’, mo’? Jim, I
-don’t want to go no mo’!”
-
-“Ain’t gwine clar thar no, Peyty, boy; come, Kit--only to a house to
-warm the Peyty boy--come Kit!”
-
-Kit was coming fast enough. But Peyty had to be taken by the arm and
-pulled up. Then he stepped slowly, the tears coming. The movement
-revealed great swollen welts, where his stiff, tattered, leathern shoes
-had chafed and worn into the fat, black little legs. “Is dat ar Mistis
-Nelly?” he asked, opening his eyes, wonderingly, at the white lady.
-
-Rose had got up now. A sudden quiver ran over her face. “No, Peyty.
-Mist’ Nelly’s dead, you know. Wish we’s back to Mas’r Moncton’s, and
-Mist’ Nelly libbin’, an’ Linkum sojers dead afore dey cum!”
-
-There was a long sigh from everybody, even from Jim. But he drew in his
-lips tightly the next moment. “Some niggas nebber was worf freein’.
-Come along, Peyty, boy--ready, mistis.”
-
-I walked slowly along at the head of the strangers from the south.
-Little feet were so sore, Peyty couldn’t walk fast. Kit’s big woman’s
-size shoes were so stiff she could only shuffle along. Jim’s toes were
-protruding, and I fancied he and Rose were as foot-sore as the little
-ones. I dare say people looked and wondered; but I am not ashamed to be
-seen with any kind of children.
-
-I took them around to the back door, into the kitchen, which I had
-found unendurable while baking my bread and pies. The heated air rushed
-out against my face as I opened the door. It was a delicious May-day;
-but the procession behind me, entering, proceeded direct to the stove,
-and surrounded it in winter fashion, holding their hands out to the
-heat. Even from Jim I heard a soft sigh of satisfaction.
-
-Poor, shivering children of the tropics! I drew up the shades. There
-were no outer blinds, and the sun streamed in freely.
-
-“There, now. Warm yourselves, and take your own time for it. Put in
-wood, Jim, and keep as much fire as you like. I am going to my room to
-rest for an hour. Be sure that you don’t go off, for I wish you to stay
-here until you are thoroughly rested. I have plenty of wood for you to
-saw, Jim.”
-
-I brought out a pan of cookies. I set them on the table. “Here, Rose,
-see that Peyty and Kit have all they want. When I come down, I’ll get
-you some dinner.”
-
-The poor children in stories, and in real life, too, for that matter,
-always get only bread and butter--dear me, poor dears! When I undertake
-a romance for these waifs in real life, or story, I always give them
-cookies--cookies, sweet, golden, and crusty, with sifted sugar.
-
-I left them all, even to Jim, looking over into the pan. My! rich,
-sugary jumbles, and plummy queen’s cakes? When I saw their eyes
-dance--no sleep in those eyes now--I was glad it wasn’t simply
-wholesome sandwiches and plain fried cakes, as somebody at my elbow
-says now it ought to have been. I would have set out a picnic table,
-with ice-cream and candies, for those wretched little “niggas,” if I
-could! I nodded to them, and went away. It is so nice, after you have
-made a child happy, to add some unmistakable sign that it is quite
-welcome to the happiness!
-
-I knew there was nothing which they could steal. I expected they
-would explore the pantry. I judged them by some of my little white
-friends. But the silver was locked up. China and glass would hardly be
-available. If, after they had stuffed themselves with those cookies,
-they could want cold meat, and bread and butter, I surely shouldn’t
-begrudge it. Then I thought of my own especial lemon tart, which stood
-cooling on the shelf before the window; but I was not going back to
-insult that manly Jim Moncton by removing it.
-
-Just as I was slipping on my dressing-gown up in my own cool, quiet
-chamber, I caught a faint sound of the outside door of the kitchen.
-Something like a shriek, or a scream, followed. Then there was an
-unmistakable and mighty overturning of chairs. I rushed down. At the
-very least I expected to see my romantic “Rose Moncton” with her hands
-clenched in brother Jim’s kinky hair. With loosened tresses, without
-belt or collar, I appeared on the scene.
-
-What did I see? Why, I saw Phillis, Mrs. Jack Graham’s black cook, with
-every one of my little “niggas” in her arms--heads of the family and
-all! There they were, sobbing and laughing together, the portly Phillis
-the loudest of the whole. One of Mrs. Jack’s favorite china bowls lay
-in fragments on the floor.
-
-Phillis called out hysterically as she saw me. Jim discovered me the
-same moment. He detached himself, went up to the window, and bowed his
-head down upon the sash. I saw the tears roll down his cheek and drop.
-
-“Laws, Miss Carry! dese my ole mas’r’s niggers! dey’s Mas’r Moncton’s
-little nigs, ebery one! dey’s runned roun’ under my feet in Mas’r
-Moncton’s kitchen many a day down in ole Carline--bress em souls!” She
-hugged them again, and sobbed afresh, The children clung to the old
-cook’s neck, and waist, and arms like so many helpless, frightened
-black kittens.
-
-Phillis at last recovered her dignity. She pointed them to their
-chairs. She picked up the pieces of china in her apron. “Done gone,
-anyhow--dese pickaninnies gib ole Phillis sich a turn! It mose like
-seein’ Mas’r Moncton an’ Miss Nelly demselves. Whar you git ’em, Miss
-Carry?”
-
-I told her.
-
-“Bress your heart, Miss Carry! Len’ me a cup, and git me some yeast,
-and I’ll bring Mistis Graham ober, an’ I’ll be boun’, when she sees dat
-ar lubly little Peyty, she’ll hire him to--to--to--lor! she’ll hire him
-to look into his diamint eyes.”
-
-I know she herself kissed tears out of more than one pair of “diamint
-eyes” while I was getting the yeast. I heard her.
-
-“O, Maum Phillis!” I heard Jim say. “You think we’ll hire out roun’
-hyar?”
-
-“_Could_ we, Maum Phillis?” pleaded Rose, her voice soft and warm now.
-“We’s done tired out. I’m clean ready to drop down in my tracks long
-this yer blessed stove, and nebber stir anywhars!”
-
-“Bress you, chilluns! You _hev_ tromped like sojers, clar from
-ole Carline! Spec it seems like home, findin’ one of de old place
-hands--Phillis knows. Dar, dar! don’t take on so. Miss Carry, she’ll
-bunk you down somewhar it’s warm, and thar you stay an’ rest dem feet.
-I’ll send my mistis ober, and dey two’ll pervide fer ye on dis yer
-street; dis yer one ob de Lord’s own streets.”
-
-Well, do you think Mistis Graham and Mistis Carry dishonored Maum
-Phillis’s faith in them?
-
-No, indeed! The family found homes on “de Lord’s own street.” Jam is
-coachman at Squire Lee’s. Peyty is at the same place, taken in at first
-for his sweet disposition, and “diamint eyes,” I suspect. He is now a
-favorite table-waiter.
-
-Kit is Maum Phillis’s right-hand woman. Rose is our own hired girl. She
-is somewhat given to sleepiness, and to idling in sunny windows, and to
-scorching her shoes and aprons against the stove of a winter’s evening.
-But, on the whole, she is a good servant; and we have built her a
-bedroom out of the kitchen.
-
-I have never regretted crossing the street to speak to the strangers
-from the south.
-
-
-
-
-WI’ WEE WINKERS BLINKIN’.
-
-BY J. E. RANKIN, D. D.
-
-
-  Wi’ wee winkers blinkin’,
-    Blinkin’ like the starn,
-  What’s wee tottie thinkin’?
-    Tell her mither, bairn.
-  On night’s downy dream-wings,
-    Where’s the bairnie been,
-  That she has sic seemings
-    In her blinkin’ een?
-
-  Let her mither brood her,
-    Like the mither-doe;
-  When enough she’s woo’d her,
-    She maun prie her mou’:
-  Let her mither shake her,
-    Like an apple bough,
-  Frae her dreams to wake her:--
-    That’s our bairnie now!
-
-  There! I’ve got her crowin’
-    Like the cock at dawn;
-  Mou’ wi’ fistie stowin’,
-    When she tries to yawn:
-  She’ll na play the stranger
-    Drappit frae the blue,
-  Lest there might be danger
-    Back she sud gae through!
-
-  She’s our little mousie,
-    In this housie born,
-  That I tumble tousie,
-    Ilka, ilka morn:
-  She’s her mither’s bairnie,
-    Only flesh an’ blood;
-  Blinkin’ like the starnie
-    Through a neebor cloud.
-
-[Illustration: LUCY’S PET.]
-
-
-
-
-[Illustration]
-
-THE CHILDRENS’ SHOES.
-
-BY BLANCHE B. BAKER (_nine years’ old_).
-
-
-  Four pairs of little shoes.
-    All in a row;
-  Four pairs of little shoes
-    For to-morrow.
-
-  Four pairs of little shoes
-    Worn every day;
-  Four pairs of little shoes
-    Ready for play.
-
-  Four pairs of little shoes
-    By the fire’s glow;
-  Four pairs of little shoes
-    White at the toe.
-
-  Four pairs of little shoes
-    Travelling all day;
-  Four pairs of little shoes
-    Resting from play.
-
-  Four pairs of little shoes
-    Waiting for day;
-  Four pairs of little shoes
-    Never go astray!
-
-
-
-
-ETHEL’S EXPERIMENT.
-
-BY B. E. E.
-
-
-  White flakes on the upland, white flakes on the plain,
-  Frost bon-bons in meadow, in garden, in lane;
-  And wise little Ethel--the strangest of girls--
-  Puts on her grave thinking-cap, shakes her brown curls,
-  And talks to herself, in a curious way,
-  Of “snow” and a “ball” and a “hot summer’s day!”
-  Then, down to the brook, where the gnarled willows grow,
-  And the ice-covered reeds stand like soldiers in row,
-  Our brave little girl trudges off all alone,
-  And rolls a large snow-ball just under the stone
-  That lies on the brink of the streamlet, and then
-  In this wise begins her soliloquy: “When
-  The Fourth of July comes, what fun it will be
-  To have all this snow tucked away, for you see
-  Nobody will guess how it came there,--but me!”
-  Green leaves on the upland, green leaves on the plain,
-  And bluebirds and robins and south winds again.
-  The brook in the meadow is wide awake now,
-  And fragrant bloom drops from the old willows bough,
-  When Ethel remembers her treasure, her prize,
-  That under the edge of the great boulder lies;
-  And stealthily creeping close down to the brink,
-  Where the slender reeds quiver--now what do you think
-  Our little girl found? Why, never a trace
-  Of the snow-ball--O no! but just in its place
-  A tiny white violet, sweetest of sweet,
-  Because of the coverlid over its feet
-  Through all the long winter! And Ethel’s mamma,
-  When she heard the whole story said, “Truly we are
-  No wiser than children. We bury our grief,
-  And find in its hiding-place Hope’s tender leaf!”
-
-
-
-
-CINDERS:
-
-THE FORTUNE CARL FOUND IN THE ASHES.
-
-BY MADGE ELLIOT.
-
-
-How artful the wind was that cold March morning, hiding away every now
-and then, pretending to be quite gone, only to rush out with a fearful
-howl at such unexpected moments that Carl was nearly blown off his feet
-each time.
-
-But he struggled bravely forward, bending his head to the blast,
-and holding his brimless hat on with one hand, while he carried his
-battered tin pail in the other.
-
-There was not a gleam of fire in the wretched room he had just left;
-and Tony and Lena, his little sisters, wrapped in the old piece of
-carpet that served them for a blanket, were _almost_ crying with hunger
-and with cold.
-
-They would have cried outright if Carl had not kissed them, and said,
-“Never mind, young uns--wait till I can give you each a reg’lar bang-up
-lace hankercher to cry on,--_then_ you may cry as much as you please.”
-
-Father and mother had died within a week of each other, when February’s
-snows were upon the ground, leaving these three poor children without
-money and without friends--a bad way for even grown-ups to be left.
-
-So Carl, poor boy, found himself, at ten years of age, the head of a
-family.
-
-Of course he became a newsboy.
-
-Almost all heads of families ten years and under, become newsboys.
-
-Twenty-five cents given him by an old woman who sold apples and
-peanuts, and who, by the way, was not much better off than he was
-himself, started him in business.
-
-But the business, I am sorry to say, scarcely paid the rent, leaving
-nothing for clothing, food and fire, three very necessary things,--be a
-home ever so humble.
-
-So every morning, almost as soon as the day dawned--and I can tell
-you day dawns very quickly in a room where the window hasn’t a scrap
-of shade or curtain--before he went down town for his stock of morning
-papers, Carl started out to bring home the family fuel.
-
-This consisted of whatever sticks and bits of wood he could find lying
-about the streets, and whatever cinders and pieces of coal he could
-pick from the ash-barrels and boxes.
-
-If the weather was at all mild, Tony, the eldest sister, and the
-housekeeper, went with him, and helped him fill the old pail.
-
-She carried a forlorn-looking basket, that seemed ashamed of the old
-piece of rope that served for its handle, and stopped on her way home
-at several houses, where the servant girls had taken a fancy to the
-gray-eyed, shy little thing, to get the family marketing.
-
-But alas! very _very_ often the supply fell far short of the demand,
-for the winter had been a very severe one, and everybody had such a
-number of calls from all sorts of needy people, that they could afford
-to give but little to each one.
-
-This particular March morning Carl went out alone, wondering as he went
-when “the fortune” was going to “turn up.”
-
-For these poor children, shut out from dolls, fairy-books, and all
-things that make childhood merry and bright, used to while away many an
-hour, talking of “a fortune” which the brother had prophesied would one
-day be found in the ashes.
-
-At different times this dream took different shapes.
-
-Sometimes it was a pocket-book, oh! so fat with greenbacks, sometimes
-a purse of gold, sometimes “a diamint ring:” but, whatever it should
-prove to be, Carl was convinced, “felt it in his bones,” he said, it
-_would_ be found, and found hidden among the cinders.
-
-Once he had brought home a silver fork, “scooped,” as he called it in
-newsboy’s slang, from an ash-heap in an open lot.
-
-On this fork the family had lived for three days.
-
-Once he rescued a doll, which _would_ have been _lovely_ if it had
-had a head; and at various times there were scraps of ribbon, lace
-and silk, all of which served to strengthen the belief that something
-wonderful must “turn up” at last.
-
-“Cricky! how that old wind does holler,” said Carl to himself, as he
-toiled along, “an’ it cuts right through me, my jacket’s so thin an’
-torn--I’d mend it myself if I only knew how, and somebody’d lend me a
-needle and thread.
-
-“Don’t I wish I’d find the fortune this morning!
-
-“I dreamt of it last night--dreamt it was a bar of gold, long as my
-arm, and precious thick, too.
-
-“Guess I’ll go to that big bar’l afore them orful high flat
-houses--that’s _allus_ full of cinders.
-
-“It’s lucky for us them big bugs don’t sift their ashes! _We_ wouldn’t
-have no fire if they did,--that’s what’s the matter.”
-
-So he made his way to the “big bar’l,” hoping no one had been there
-before him, and, leaning over without looking, put his cold, red hand
-into the ashes, but he drew it out again in a hurry, for, cold as _it_
-was, it had touched something colder.
-
-“Hello!” cried Carl, “what’s that? It don’t feel ’zactly like the bar
-of gold,” and, dropping on his knees, he peeped in.
-
-A dirty little, shaggy, once-white dog raised a pair of soft, dark,
-wistful eyes to his face.
-
-“Why! I’m blessed,” said Carl, in great surprise, “if it ain’t a dog.
-Poor little beggar! that was his nose I felt, an’ wasn’t it cold?”
-
-“I s’pose he’s got in among the ashes to keep warm; wot pooty eyes
-he’s got, just like that woman’s wot give me a ten cent stamp for the
-_Tribune_ the other day, and wouldn’t take no change. Poor old feller!
-Are you lost?”
-
-The dog had risen to its feet, and still looking pleadingly at Carl,
-commenced wagging its tail in a friendly manner.
-
-“Oh! you want me to take you home,” continued Carl. “I can’t ’cause
-I dunno where you live, and _my_ family eats all they can git
-theirselves--they’re awful pigs, they are,” and he laughed softly, “an’
-couldn’t board a dog nohow.”
-
-But the dog kept on wagging his tail, and as soon as Carl ceased
-speaking, as though grateful for even a few kind words, it licked the
-cold hand that rested on the side of the barrel.
-
-That dog--kiss won the poor boy’s heart completely. “You _shall_
-go with me,” he cried impulsively. “Jest come out of that barrel
-till I fill this pail with cinders, and then we’ll be off. He kin
-have the bones _we_ can’t crack with our teeth ennyhow,” he said to
-himself,--not a very cheerful prospect, it must be confessed, for the
-boarder.
-
-The dog, as though he understood every word, jumped from the box, and
-seated himself on the icy pavement to wait for his new landlord and
-master.
-
-In a few moments the pail was full, and the boy turned toward his home,
-running as fast as he could, with the dog trotting along by his side.
-
-“See wot I foun’ in the ashes,” he cried, bounding into the room.
-“Here’s the fortune alive an’ kickin’. Wot you think of it?”
-
-“Oh, wot a funny fortune!” said Tony, and “Wot a funny fortune!”
-repeated little Lena.
-
-“It’s kinder queer,--the pocket-book an’ the dimint ring a-turnin’ into
-a dog!” Tony continued. “But no matter, if we can’t buy nothin’ with
-him, we can love him, poor little feller!”
-
-“Poor ’ittle feller!” repeated Lina. “He nicer than dollie ’ithout a
-head, ennyhow. _We_ can lub him.”
-
-“An’ now, Carl,” said the housekeeper, “you make the fire, an’ I’ll run
-to market, for it’s most time you went after your papers.”
-
-And away she sped, to return in a few minutes with five or six cold
-potatoes, a few crusts of bread, and one bone, with very little
-meat--and that gristle--clinging to it.
-
-And this bone--think if you can of a greater act of self-denial and
-charity--the children decided with one accord should be given to
-“Cinders,” as they had named the dog on the spot.
-
-That night, after Carl had sold his papers, and come home tired but
-hopeful, for he had made thirty cents clear profit to save toward the
-rent, they all huddled together, with doggie in the midst of them,
-around the old iron furnace that held their tiny fire.
-
-Presently the Head of the Family began whistling a merry tune, which
-was a great favorite with the newsboys.
-
-Imagine the astonishment of the children when Cinders pricked up his
-ears, rose on his hind legs, and, after gravely walking across the room
-once, began to walk round and round, keeping perfect time to the music!
-
-“Hurrah! hurrah!” shouted Carl, his eyes sparkling. “Look at that! look
-at that! Tony, it _’tis_ the fortune after all! an’ I _did_ find it in
-the ash-box!”
-
-“Why, wot do you mean, Bub?” cried Tony, almost as excited as her
-brother. “Wot do you mean, an’ ware’s ‘the fortune?’”
-
-“Why there, right afore your eyes. I mean Cinders is one o’ them orful
-smart hundred-dollar dogs wot does tricks. He’s bin lost by that circus
-wot went away night afore last, an’ he’s bin lost a-purpose to make my
-dreams come true! I’ll take him out the fust fine day, an’ we’ll bring
-home lots of stamps. You see if we don’t!”
-
-“_I’ll_ sell the papers,” said Tony, by this time _quite_ as excited as
-her brother; “I kin do it, Carl. ‘’Ere’s the mornin’ Herald, Sun, Times
-an’ _Tri_-bune!’” imitating the shrill cry of the newsboy, and doing
-it very well, too, “an’ the fellers’ll be good to me, ’cos I’m your
-sister, an’ they like you.”
-
-“You’re a brick, Tony!” said Carl, “an’ for sich a small brick the
-brickiest brick I ever knowed; but I kin sell ’em myself in the
-mornin’, an’ you kin take ’em in the afternoon, for that’s the
-time Cinders an’ me must perform. ‘Monseer Carlosky an’ his werry
-talented dog Cinders, son of the well-known French performing poodle
-Cinderella.’ How’s that, Tony? O I’ve read all about ’em on the circus
-bills, and that’s the way they do it. Yes, you’ll have to take the
-papers in the afternoon, cos then’s when the swell boys an’ gals is
-home from school,--’cept Saturdays, then we’ll be out most all day.”
-
-“Dance more, Tinders, dance more!” here broke in little Lena; but
-Cinders stood looking at his master, evidently waiting for the music.
-
-So Carl commenced whistling--did I tell you he whistled like a
-bird?--and Cinders once more marched gravely across the room, and then
-began waltzing again in the most comical manner.
-
-He had evidently been trained to perform his tricks just twice; for
-when the music ceased _this_ time he proceeded to stand on his head,
-and then sitting up on his hind legs, he nodded politely to the
-audience, and held out one of his paws, as much as to say, “Now pay if
-you please.”
-
-The poor children forgot hunger and cold in their delight, and that
-miserable room resounded to more innocent, merry laughter that night
-than it had heard for many long years, perhaps ever before.
-
-Cinders got another bone for his supper--the others had nothing--and
-then they all went to bed, if lying on the bare floor, with nothing for
-a pillow can be called going to bed, and dreamed of “the fortune” found
-at last in the ashes.
-
-The next afternoon, which fortunately was a fine one, for March having
-“come in like a lion was preparing to go out like a lamb,” Carl came
-racing up the crazy stairs, taking two steps at a time, and, tossing a
-bundle of evening papers to Tony, he whistled to Cinders, and away they
-went.
-
-Poor Carl looked shabby enough, with his toes sticking out of a pair of
-old shoes--a part of the treasures “scooped” from the ash-heap--and not
-mates at that, one being as much too large as the other was too small,
-his tattered jacket and his brimless hat.
-
-But Cinders followed him as faithfully as though he had been clad in a
-costly suit of the very latest style.
-
-Turning into a handsome, quiet street, Carl stopped at last before
-a house where three or four rosy-cheeked children were flattening
-their noses against the panes of the parlor windows, trying to see a
-doll which another rosy-cheeked child was holding up at a window just
-opposite.
-
-“Now Cinders, ole feller!” said Carl, while his heart beat fast, “do
-your best. BONES!” and he began to whistle.
-
-At the first note Cinders stood up on his hind legs, at the second he
-took his first step forward.
-
-At the beginning of the fourth bar the waltz began; and by this time
-the rosy-cheeked children had lost all interest in the doll over the
-way, and were all shouting and calling “Mamma!” and the cook and
-chambermaid had made their appearance at the area gate.
-
-The march and waltz having been gone through with twice, Cinders
-stood on his head--“shure,” said the cook, “I couldn’t do it betther
-myself”--tumbled quickly to his feet again, nodded affably once to the
-right, once to the left, and once to the front of him, and held out his
-right paw.
-
-“He’s the cliverest baste ever _I_ seen,” said the chambermaid, “so
-he is!” and she threw a five cent piece in Carl’s old hat; and, at
-the same moment the window was opened, and out flew a perfect shower
-of pennies, while the little girl across the way kept shouting, “Come
-here, ragged little boy! Come here, funny doggie! Oh, _why_ don’t you
-come here?”
-
-And, making his best bow to his first audience, Carl went over to the
-doll’s house, and was received by the whole family, including grandpa
-and grandma, with great delight and laughter, and was rewarded at the
-end of his entertainment with much applause, three oranges, and a new
-ten cent stamp.
-
-That afternoon Cinders earned one dollar and three cents for his
-little master; and I can’t describe to you the joy that reigned in
-that small bare room when Carl, in honor of his debut as “Monseer
-Carlosky” brought in, and spread out on a newspaper on the floor, a
-wonderful feast! Real loaf of bread, bought at the baker’s, bottle
-of sarsaparilla at the grocer’s, and peanuts, apples, and a hunk of
-some extraordinary candy from the old woman who kept a stand at the
-corner, and who had started Carl as a newsboy. She also received her
-twenty-five cents again, with five cents added by way of interest.
-
-“Why! didn’t they look when they see me a-orderin’ things, and payin’
-for ’em on the spot!” said “Monseer,” with honest pride, as he carved
-the loaf with an old jackknife.
-
-As for Cinders, no meatless bone, but half a pound of delicious liver,
-did that remarkable dog receive, and more kisses on his cold, black
-nose than he knew what to do with.
-
-After that, as the weather grew finer and finer, and the days longer,
-Carl and his dog wandered farther and farther, and earned more and
-more money every day, until the little sisters rejoiced in new shoes,
-hats and dresses, and the housekeeper had a splendid basket--not very
-large, of course--with a handle that any basket could be proud of, and
-actually _did_ go to market, fair and square, and no make believe about
-it.
-
-And Carl presented himself with a brand-new suit of clothes, from the
-second-hand shop next door, including shoes that were made for each
-other, and a hat with a brim.
-
-By-and-by the cheerless room was exchanged for a pleasanter one; and
-the story of the fair-haired Head of the Family, and the fortune
-he found in the ashes, took wings, and returned to him laden with
-blessings.
-
-And five years from that bleak March morning, when Cinder looked up
-so pleadingly in the boy’s, face, Carl found himself a clerk in the
-counting-room of a generous, kind-hearted merchant.
-
-“A boy who worked so hard and so patiently to take care of his little
-sisters,” this gentleman said to his wife, “and who was ready to share
-his scanty meals with a vagrant dog, _must_ be a good boy, and good
-boys make good men.”
-
-And Tony and Lena, both grown to be bright, healthy, merry girls,
-befriended by many good women, were going to school, taking care of the
-house, earning a little in odd moments by helping the seamstress who
-lived on the floor below, and still looking up with love and respect to
-the Head of the Family.
-
-Cinders, petted and beloved by all, performed in public no more,
-but spent most of his time lying by the fire in winter, and on the
-door-step in summer, waiting and listening for the step of his master.
-
-So you see Carl was right.
-
-He _did_ find his fortune among the ashes.
-
-But would it have proved a fortune had he been a cruel, selfish,
-hard-hearted boy?
-
-Ah! that’s the question.
-
-[Illustration]
-
-
-
-
-TOM’S CENTENNIAL.
-
-_A FOURTH OF JULY STORY._
-
-BY MARGARET EYTINGE.
-
-
-[Illustration]
-
-“Hurrah! To-morrow’s the Fourth of July--the glorious Fourth!” shouted
-Tom Wallace, careering wildly around the flower garden, as a Roman
-candle he held in his hand, evidently unable to contain itself until
-the proper time, went off with a fizz and a pop and flashed against the
-evening sky, “and it’s going to be the greatest Fourth that ever was
-known, because it’s the Centennial!”
-
-“A _cent_-tennial!” said his little sister Caddy, “that won’t be
-anything great.”
-
-“Pooh! you don’t understand--girls never do--Centennial don’t mean
-anything about money. Centennial means ’pertaining to, or happening
-every hundred years’--if you don’t believe me ask Noah Webster--and
-just a hundred years ago this magnificent Republic of America,
-gentlemen of the jury,” he continued, mounting a garden-chair, and
-making the most absurd gestures, “was declared free and independent,
-and its brave citizens determined not to drink tea unless they chose
-to, and our cousins from the other side of the Atlantic went marching
-home to the tune the old cow died on.”
-
-“What tune was that?” asked Caddy.
-
-“Gentlemen of the jury,” said Tom, “I’m astonished to find such
-ignorance in this great and enlightened country. The name of that
-memorable tune was and still is, as _Your Honor_ well knows, Yankee
-Doodle;” and the orator, descending from the chair, commenced whistling
-that famous melody.
-
-“Well, then,” said Caddy, after a moment’s thought, “if a Centinal is
-something about a hundred years old, Aunt Patience is one, for she’s a
-hundred years old to-morrow--she told me so--and she feels real bad
-’cause she can’t go to the green to see the fire-works, on ’count of
-the pain in her back, and Faith ain’t got any shoes or hat, and the
-flour’s ’most gone, and so’s the tea, and she says ‘the poor-house
-looms.’”
-
-“‘The poor-house looms,’ does it?” said Tom laughing; and then he stuck
-his hands in his pockets, and hummed “Hail Columbia” in a thoughtful
-manner.
-
-“I say, Frank,” he called out at last, going up on the porch, and
-poking his head in at a window, “what are you doing?”
-
-  “‘The king was in the parlor, counting out his money,’”
-
-answered Frank.
-
-“How much, king?”
-
-“Twenty--thirty--thirty-five,” said Frank, “one dollar and thirty-five
-cents. How do you figure?”
-
-“Two, fifteen. Come out here, I want to tell you something.”
-
-Frank, who was two years younger than Tom appeared.
-
-“What’s up?” he asked, throwing himself into the hammock which hung
-from the roof of the porch, and swinging lazily.
-
-“Would it break your heart, and smash the fellows generally, if we
-didn’t go to the meeting on the green to-morrow evening, after all the
-fuss we’ve made about it?”
-
-“_What?_” asked Frank, in a tone of surprise, assuming a sitting
-position so suddenly that the hammock--hammocks are treacherous
-things--gave a sudden lurch, and landed him on the floor.
-
-Tom’s laughter woke all the echoes around.
-
-“Forgive these tears,” he said, as he wiped his eyes, “and now to
-business. You know not, perhaps, my gentle brother, that we have a
-centenarian, or as Caddy says, a centinal among us?”
-
-“A centinal?” said Frank, stretching himself out on the floor where he
-had fallen.
-
-“A centenarian, or centinal, whichever you choose, most noble kinsman,
-and she lives on the outskirts of this town. Her name--a most admirable
-one--is Patience. Her granddaughter’s--another admirable one--Faith.
-
-“Patience has the rheumatism. Faith has no shoes. They want to see
-some fire-works, and hear some Fourth of July--being centinals they
-naturally would.
-
-“What say you? Shall we and our faithful clan, instead of swelling the
-ranks of the militia on the green, march to the humble cottage behind
-the hill, and gladden the hearts of old Patience and young Faith with a
-pyr-o-tech-nic display?”
-
-“Good!” said Frank, who always followed the lead of his elder brother.
-
-And “Good!” echoed Caddy; “but don’t spend all your money for
-fire-works. Give some to Aunt Patience, ’cause she’s the only centinal
-we’ve got.”
-
-“And she’ll never be another,” said Tom,
-
-  “‘While the star-spangled banner in triumph doth wave,
-  O’er the land of the free and the home of the brave.’”
-
-So on the evening of the Fourth the people of Tomstown were somewhat
-astonished to see the young Centennial Guards march down the principal
-street, pass the green, where extensive preparations for festivities
-had been made, and keep on up the hill until, beginning to descend on
-the other side, they were lost to sight.
-
-At the head marched Frank with his drum. Caddy came directly behind him
-with a bunch of brilliant flowers. The others carried flags, Chinese
-lanterns, and boxes of fire-works, while Captain Tom flew here and
-there and everywhere, trying to keep--an almost hopeless task--the
-mischievous company in something like order.
-
-“Where away?” shouted Uncle Al--an old sailor home for the holiday--as
-the guards passed his door.
-
-“To Aunt Patience--our own special Centennial,” Frank shouted back with
-a tremendous roll of the drum.
-
-Uncle Al, always ready for fun, pipe in mouth, fell in line, waving his
-tarpaulin on the end of a stick, and Ex, his yellow dog, and Ander, his
-black one, followed after, grinning and wagging their tails.
-
-Then the butcher’s boy, and his chum the baker’s boy, who were
-going by, turned and joined the procession, and away they all went,
-hurrahing, laughing and drumming, to the door of the very small cottage.
-
-“Bless my heart!” said Aunt Patience, who was sitting in a wooden
-arm-chair on the stoop, and who, hearing faintly, poor, dear, deaf old
-soul, the noise of the approaching “guards,” had been thinking the
-frogs croaked much louder than usual, “what’s this?”
-
-And bare-footed, brown-eyed Faith came out with wonder written all over
-her pretty face.
-
-“Three cheers for our special Centennial!” shouted the boys; and they
-gave three with a will, as Caddy placed her flowers in the old woman’s
-hand.
-
-“Now for the pyr-o-tech-nic display!” commanded Captain Tom; and for
-nearly an hour Roman candles fizzed, blue-lights popped, torpedoes
-cracked, pin-wheels whizzed, and fire-crackers banged.
-
-Old Patience said it was worth living a hundred years to see.
-
-And as the last fire-work went up a rocket and came down a stick,
-the gallant company formed in single file, and, marching past Aunt
-Patience, each member bade her “good-night,” and dropped some money in
-her lap.
-
-As for Uncle Al--that generous, jolly, warm-hearted old sailor, his
-gift was three old-fashioned silver dollars; one for himself, one for
-Ex, and one for Ander.
-
-“No one should think,” he said, “that _his_ dogs were mean dogs.”
-
-Then away they all went again, hurrahing, shouting, and drumming like
-mad!
-
-[Illustration]
-
-
-
-
-LITTLE CHUB AND THE SKY WINDOW.
-
-BY MARY D. BRINE.
-
-
-Little Chub sat on the curb-stone, dipping small brown toes into the
-not very pure water which flowed along the gutter, and watching with
-his large, blue eyes the fleecy clouds which far up above the narrow
-court in which he dwelt with granny sailed lazily across the patch of
-blue sky just visible between two tall buildings opposite.
-
-Chub’s real name was Tommy Brown, but, on account of his roly-poly
-figure and little round face, he was nick-named “Chub,” and even granny
-called him so, till the boy forgot he had another name.
-
-There had been a funeral that morning near Chub’s house, and all the
-boys gathered about the spot, listening open-eared and open-eyed to the
-service which told the mourners of that “happy land, far, far away,”
-and was intended to comfort them.
-
-But Chub was too little to understand much of all he heard, and could
-only feel very sorry for the poor little girl who cried for her dear
-mamma, and clung to her father’s hand terrified because that mamma
-would not even open her eyes nor look at her. Then the carriages moved
-slowly down the street, and Chub went home to granny and teased her
-with questions.
-
-“Granny, what’s up there?”
-
-Mrs. Brown, at her wash-tub, half-enveloped in steam, scrubbed away and
-answered:
-
-“The other wurrld, honey dear,” reverentially raising her eyes to the
-blue patch of sky to which Chub’s fat finger pointed.
-
-“_What_ other world, granny?”
-
-“The good place where yer mammy and daddy have gone, to be sure.”
-
-“How did they get there?” from Chub, his little brow full of puzzled
-knots.
-
-“Arrah thin, ye ax too many questions, honey. Some good angel flew down
-and lifted them up, of course, and--and--flew away wid ’em agin. Run
-now to the corner and fetch me a bar of soap, there’s a dear.”
-
-Chub went for the soap, and, returning, seated himself on the
-curb-stone as we first found him, and calculating the length of
-time it might possibly take an angel to fly heavenward with little
-Jennie’s mother, watched the blue patch and fleecy clouds to see the
-final entrance of the two into that other world granny talked about.
-Presently two bootblacks strolled along, jingling pennies in their
-pockets, and swinging their blacking-boxes independently.
-
-“Hi, Chub,” they shouted, “want a penny?”
-
-Chub held out his hand nothing loth.
-
-“Who giv it ter yer?” he asked, delightedly, for so much wealth had not
-been his since he could remember.
-
-“Earned it shinin’ boots, ov course. _We’re_ rich men, Chub, don’t ye
-know that?” passing on with a chuckle.
-
-An idea seized our small boy. He withdrew his toes from the gutter,
-forgot all about the flying angel and patch of sky, and startled
-granny, who was bending over her wash-tub, with:
-
-“Granny, I’m goin’ inter business, like other men.”
-
-“Bless the boy! what does he mean?”
-
-“Two fellers giv me a cent just now, and they earned it a-shinin’
-boots, and I’m goin’ to ’sist you and grow rich, granny.”
-
-Granny stopped punching her clothes, came out of the steam, and sat
-down to laugh at the new man of business.
-
-Chub’s round face glowed with honest determination, and his roly-poly
-figure straighted as well as it could.
-
-“Yes, _ma’am_! I’m a-goin fur a bootblack, and I’m goin’ to buy an
-orange as soon as I earn a cent.”
-
-“Where you goin’ ter git yer box and brushes, hey, Chub?” asked Granny,
-renewing her attack upon the wash-boiler and its contents.
-
-The boy’s countenance fell, and visions of oranges faded slowly and
-reluctantly from his eyes. Suddenly, however, he remembered his friend
-Sim Hardy, who frequently gave him the uneaten end of a banana, and
-now and then part of a stick of licorice, for which favors Chub had
-yielded in return a large share of his warm little heart.
-
-“Sim’ll get me a box, ’thout it’s costin’ anythin’. Maybe he’ll hook
-one fur a little chap like me.”
-
-Granny rested from her labors and turned a stern face upon the boy.
-
-“Thomas Brown, never dare you lift a finger of yourn to touch what’s
-been stole. Remember who’s watchin’ ye all the time, and don’t go fur
-to sile the family name of Brown. If yer do, I’ll trounce yer well for
-it, there, now!”
-
-[Illustration: “GRANNY, I’AM GOIN’ INTER BUSINESS, LIKE OTHER MEN.”]
-
-It was probably the last awful threat that awed Chub into obedience,
-for he gave no more thought to Sim’s way of getting a machine for
-him, but tried to think of another plan.
-
-It wasn’t long, however, before his friends among the bootblacks raised
-a sum between them and presented Chub with the necessary capital with
-which to begin business in earnest. And to granny’s delight her boy
-started off one fine morning regularly equipped for his first battle
-for daily bread--and an orange.
-
-For a long time the little, six-years-old bootblack sat on the Astor
-House steps awaiting custom. But big boys somehow grabbed all the jobs,
-and nobody noticed little Chub, nor heard his weak cry, “Shine yer up
-fur ten cents! Want a shine, sir?”
-
-So when night came, the little fellow shouldered his box and went home,
-minus his orange, and with pockets as empty as when he started from
-home. He cried a little, to be sure, and granny comforted him with
-kisses, and put him to bed tenderly. For nearly a week things worked
-very badly for Chub. Business didn’t prosper, and sitting all day in
-the hot sun made the little fellow sick of trying to be a man and do
-business. He couldn’t somehow make the thing work, and Sim Hardy, the
-friend who would have taught him, was busy on another route, and so
-Chub sat swinging his little bare feet all day, with nothing to do but
-watch the sky and wish he could fly up to “that other world” where he
-didn’t believe the “angels would let him go so long without a job.”
-
-One night he went home with two ten cent stamps in his pocket, and a
-prouder boy never lived. But granny’s anxious eyes saw an unusual flush
-on the boy’s cheeks, and the little hands felt dry and hot. And that
-night the boy was restless and talked in his sleep.
-
-It had been a fearfully hot day, and granny feared the child was
-suffering from sunstroke. So she kept ice on his head, and with part of
-the newly-earned money bought some medicine which quieted Chub and gave
-him an hour’s sweet sleep just before sunrise.
-
-Then he opened his blue eyes and told granny about a dream in which he
-had seen a beautiful angel peep out of a little window in the sky and
-look all about as if searching for something. And presently Chub heard
-a voice say, “Oh, there’s little Chub! I’ve found him.” Then, as he
-looked up to see who had called his name from the clouds, the window
-opened wide, and the angel spread beautiful white wings, as white as
-snow, and fluttered gently down with arms opened lovingly towards
-Chub, who dreamed he was sitting with his box all that time on the
-Astor House steps. But just before she reached him he woke up, and,
-lo and behold, all the angel his waking eyes saw was dear old granny,
-who stood with a cooling drink beside the bed, and fanned away the
-tormenting flies.
-
-So Chub told his dream. Granny wiped her eyes with the corner of her
-apron, and hugged her boy closer.
-
-[Illustration: “WANT A SHINE, SIR?”]
-
-“The angels can’t have ye yet, Tommy,” she said. “Yer granny’s boy, and
-this wurrld is good enuff fur ye this long while yet.”
-
-Chub felt better the next day, and went out to his day’s business with
-a stout little heart, and eyes full of sunbeams. Some of the sunshine
-of the day crept out of the little room with him when he left granny
-alone over her wash-tubs, but she knew when he returned at night he
-would bring it all back again. So she scrubbed and rubbed and boiled
-and punched her clothes, until the room resembled cloud-land, and the
-white clothes hanging on lines shone out of the mist like the white
-wings Chub had talked about.
-
-       *       *       *       *       *
-
-“Oh, dear! Them big fellers don’t give a little chap a chance at all,
-at all.”
-
-A big sigh shook Chub’s breast as he muttered this, wiping the
-perspiration from his face, and settling the torn hat more comfortably
-on his curly head. He slid down from his seat, and stood on the edge of
-the sidewalk a minute, waiting a chance to cross.
-
-Hark! what a swift galloping of hoofs on the cobble-stones! Down the
-street, the closely-crowded street, dashed a runaway horse, dragging
-the light buggy, whose owner had just vacated it. Everybody scampered
-right and left in the first moment of terror, but a wee child,
-frightened from its nurse’s hand, stands directly in the path of the
-swift-coming animal.
-
-Impulsively Chub, the boy of six years, the brave little business man,
-flings his blacking-box directly at the head of the runaway horse, and
-as fast as his short legs can carry him he rushes for the child whose
-life is in peril. In one instant the horse, startled by the well-aimed
-blow, turns aside, and then plunges on despite the efforts of strong
-arms to stop him.
-
-That instant spared the little girl, but Chub’s box had opened the
-sky-window for him--poor little fellow--for over his brave little
-figure, crushing the life from his braver heart, passed the animal
-which had jumped on one side when the box struck him, and directly in
-Chub’s line.
-
-They lifted him tenderly, and laid him on the broad step which had
-been the only business office Chub had owned. But only once the blue
-eyes opened, and then they sought the blue sky above, and even strong
-men felt tears in their eyes when faintly and gaspingly the dying boy
-cried, “Oh, angel! angel! here’s little Chub a-waitin’ fur yer; don’t
-ye see him?”
-
-Then upward reached the small, brown arms, and downward fluttered the
-white lids, which were raised never on earth again, not even when
-granny’s tears covered the round, white face, and her arms clasped
-close the little roly-poly figure which had suddenly grown so stiff and
-helpless.
-
-Up to “that other world,” through the “sky-window,” the white-winged
-angel had borne little Chub; and all that had puzzled him on earth was,
-maybe, in his angel-mother’s arms, made clear to him at last.
-
-[Illustration]
-
-
-
-
-LITTLE BOY BLUE
-
-BY C. A. GOODENOW.
-
-
-Not the identical one that slept under the haystack, while the cows
-trampled the corn; no, indeed, he was quite too wide awake for that!
-Our little Boy Blue had another name; but he was seldom called by it,
-and did not much like it when he was. For when he heard people say
-“John Allison Ware!” he knew that he was in mischief, and justice was
-about to be meted unto him.
-
-Why was he called little Boy Blue? Because, when he was a tiny baby,
-his eyes were so very blue--“real ultramarine,” Aunt Sue said; but baby
-only wrinkled his nose at the long word, and mamma smiled.
-
-However, the eyes kept their wonderful color as the baby grew up, so
-the name was kept, too.
-
-Boy Blue had four sisters: three older, one younger, than himself. He
-used, sometimes, to wish for a brother, but mostly he was too busy to
-worry over trifles. He had so much to do the days were not long enough.
-
-He had to work in his garden; it was about as large as a
-pocket-handkerchief, but it required a great deal of care. He had
-to feed the kitty, help shell the peas for dinner, ride on the
-saw-horse, and be an ice-man, a strawberry-seller, a coal-heaver and a
-fish-monger, all with only the aid of his wheelbarrow.
-
-Above all, he had to help Jotham.
-
-What Jotham would have done without his help I cannot tell. With it, he
-kept the garden in order, mended the broken tools, made sleds, swings,
-skipping-ropes, carts and baby-houses for the five little Wares.
-
-If Jotham could not have got along without Boy Blue, I am sure the
-little Wares would have sadly missed Jotham.
-
-One day Jotham was making a sled for Elsie. It was June, and people do
-not usually wish to slide on the daisies and clover; but Jotham liked
-to get things finished early. I suppose he knew, too, that when Elsie’s
-sled was done he would have to make one a-piece for Lill, for Dora, for
-Boy Blue, and for little Tot; so, perhaps, he thought from June to
-December was not too long time for so much work.
-
-The sled was ready to be painted; and blue paint, in a nice little
-bucket, with a small brush in it, was waiting for the sled. Boy Blue
-stood by helping.
-
-Just then somebody called Jotham into the house.
-
-“I might paint a little until he comes back,” thought Boy Blue. “Don’t
-fink I’d better, maybe. Elsie said blue stripes; ’haps I shouldn’t get
-them even. H’m!”
-
-The blue eyes twinkled, and the funny little mouth was puckered in a
-round, rosy button as their owner considered the matter.
-
-“I might practice, first,” said Boy Blue.
-
-So he tugged the paint-bucket down from the bench; he slopped a little
-over, too. It did not fall on his trowsers; they were short, and
-fastened at the knee with three buttons; the blue splashes were on the
-white stockings below the trowsers, and Boy Blue saw them.
-
-“But _they_ will wash,” said he to himself.
-
-Then Boy Blue and the paint-bucket walked off behind the tool-house;
-that was a good place to practice, because the clapboards were so
-smooth, and of a nice gray color, on which the blue paint showed
-beautifully.
-
-“I’ll make five stripes, ’cause I’m most five years old,” thought Boy
-Blue.
-
-The first were crooked, and he had to make five more; they-were
-too long, so he made some shorter ones. Soon all the side of the
-tool-house, as high as his short arm could reach, was painted in blue
-stripes.
-
-“If I only had a ladder!” mused Boy Blue. “Fink I’d better get one.”
-
-He trudged into the shed, still carrying the paint-bucket; it was not
-so full now as when Jotham left it, and did not slop much.
-
-There was no ladder in the shed, so he went on into the barn.
-
-[Illustration]
-
-“Ouf! ouf!” grunted Piggy White, hearing steps, and expecting dinner.
-
-“I’m busy now, Piggy White,” said Boy Blue, looking over the side of
-the pen. “I’m painting. Oh my! Piggy White, you’d look just beautiful
-if you only had some blue stripes!”
-
-Piggy White was a young pig, quite clean and pretty; the little Wares
-made a pet of him. He had a fresh straw bed every night, and Jotham
-took a deal of care to keep his house tidy. He was so accustomed to
-visits from the children he only gently grunted in reply to Boy Blue’s
-remark.
-
-The next thing seen of that small lad he had climbed over and was as
-busy over Piggy White as he had been on the tool-house. Piggy liked to
-have his back rubbed, and was very quiet while Boy Blue painted a long
-stripe down his spine and shorter ones across his sides.
-
-“Piggy White, _if_ you wig your tail so I fink I’ll scold. I want to
-paint the end of it.”
-
-By this time there was not much paint in the bucket, but there was
-a great deal on Boy Blue’s hands, on his stockings, on the short
-trowsers, and on the front of his little blouse.
-
-“H’m!” said Boy Blue, suddenly looking up. “I fink--Jotham--I fink I’ve
-got frough.”
-
-“The land of liberty!” said Jotham, looking down. “You’re _blue_, sure
-enough.”
-
-Then he picked up the little workman and carried him into the house.
-
-When mamma had been out and looked at the tool-house and Piggy White,
-and had come in and looked at Boy Blue, she said what she had said
-about five hundred times:
-
-“I don’t know what I _shall_ do with you!”
-
-But she did. For she told Nurse Norah to give him a bath.
-
-When he had been scrubbed and rubbed and dried, and stood very red and
-warm to have his hair brushed, he sobbed:
-
-“Somebody didn’t ought to look after me better!”
-
-“Sure, ’twould take a paycock’s eyes, and more, to look after sich a
-stirabout! Now run, see the organ-man with your sisters, and be good,”
-said Norah.
-
-The organ-man carried a monkey, and the monkey carried a tambourine,
-with which he played such pranks the little Wares fell off the steps
-one after another in fits of laughter, and Boy Blue decided at once to
-buy that monkey if he could. So when the organ-man went away Boy Blue
-followed. Only Tot saw him go, for the others were running back to the
-nursery to see if the dolls were awake. And Tot could not make people
-understand what her little, lisping tongue meant to say.
-
-It grew late and later; it was almost dark. Boy Blue did not come home.
-They began to wonder; they began to be anxious; they began to look for
-him. They called his name everywhere. They shouted, “Little Boy Blue!
-Boy Blu-u-u-e! Blu-u-u-ue!”
-
-He did not come. They thought what if he should never come back!
-
-Mamma cried.
-
-“Somebody has stolen him!” said Norah.
-
-“He is drowned!”
-
-“He is run over!”
-
-“He is--”
-
-“_Here_ he is!”
-
-So he was! They had looked everywhere and inquired of everybody, and
-given up in despair. Papa and Jotham had gone to get help in searching
-for him. Mamma was in distress. And there little Boy Blue came walking
-into the house himself!
-
-“Where have you been?” cried the sisters.
-
-He had followed the monkey until he was tired, had come back unseen,
-had climbed into the hammock in the orchard, and had been asleep there
-ever since.
-
-“And we just crazed about ye, ye bad boy!” said Norah, while mamma
-hugged him.
-
-“You needn’t fink _I’d_ get lost,” said Boy Blue, proudly. “_I_ don’t
-do such fings. I want my supper!”
-
-He had it. But at our house we still keep asking this question:
-
-  “What _shall_ we do
-  With little Boy Blue?”
-
-
-
-
-GHOSTS AND WATER-MELONS.
-
-BY J. H. WOODBURY.
-
-
-Bobby Tatman was a little Yankee fellow, but he looked like an Italian
-boy, with his tangly brown hair, and his soft, simple dark eyes. He
-was very fond of water-melons; but he was very much afraid of ghosts;
-and in his simple heart he believed everything that was told him, and
-thereby hangs a tale.
-
-There was a man, whom all the neighbors knew as Uncle Ben, who had some
-very fine water-melons--which Bobby knew all about--for they were only
-about a mile from Bobby’s father’s house.
-
-These were the nearest water-melons that Bobby knew of, and he used to
-go over occasionally, with his friend James Scott, to look at them,
-and see how they were coming on. Both Bobby and his friend grew much
-interested in the melons, as they were ripening, and Bobby wondered why
-his father did not raise water-melons, too. This was not a large patch,
-and it was in a sunny nook of Uncle Ben’s farm, out of sight from his
-house.
-
-“It wouldn’t be stealing to take water-melons,” remarked Bobby’s friend
-one day, as the two were sitting on the fence alongside the little
-patch. “It wouldn’t be any more stealing than picking off corn to
-roast, when we go a-fishing, would be stealing, as I can see.”
-
-“I don’t know as it would be,” Bobby admitted, musingly. “I _should_
-like that old big fellow! Uncle Ben says that’s a _mountain-sweet_. But
-it would _almost_ be stealing to take that one, sure! and Uncle Ben
-would miss it the first thing, too.”
-
-“I s’pose he would,” said James, “and then there’d be a row. It won’t
-do to take that one. I tell you what, Bobby, we won’t take any of ’em
-now, but we’ll come to-night, after dark, and then there won’t be any
-danger of anybody’s seeing us. Of course it won’t be stealing; but
-Uncle Ben’s just mean enough to make a row about it, I s’pose, if he
-should happen to find it out.”
-
-“I guess he would,” said Bobby. “I shouldn’t want to have him see us,
-anyhow.”
-
-And so, not to run any risk, they concluded to wait.
-
-When it was night they came again, and sat together upon the same
-fence, listening for a time for sounds of any others who might be
-approaching, before they got down to select their melons. All was
-still, and, feeling secure from detection, they got down and began to
-search among the vines. They could tell by rapping upon the melons
-which the ripe ones were, and it was not long till they had made their
-selection, and were scudding away, each with a melon almost as large as
-he could carry, along the fence towards Uncle Ben’s corn-field, which
-was still farther from his house.
-
-When they got to the corn-field they felt safe, and, as the melons
-were heavy, they concluded to eat one before going further. So they
-sat down in a nook of the fence--a Virginia rail-fence, as we used to
-call that kind--and Bobby took out a knife that he thought a great deal
-of--because his Aunt Hannah had given it him, and it had his initials
-on a little silver plate set in the handle--and in a moment more they
-were eating and praising the delicious melon.
-
-“Of course ’tain’t stealing,” said James Scott, as Bobby again brought
-up that question. “Uncle Ben always does have better water-melons than
-anybody else, and he can’t expect to have ’em _all_ to himself. What’s
-the use of living in a free country, if you can’t have a water-melon
-once in a while? Help yourself. Bobby--but don’t eat too near the rind.”
-
-Bobby helped himself,--though he could not help thinking all the time
-that it was to Uncle Ben’s water-melon,--and the boys filled up,
-gradually, till they could hold no more. Then each had a great shell
-that would have almost floated him, had he felt like going to sea in
-it, and the question was, what to do with them.
-
-“Let’s tuck ’em under the bottom rail,” said James; “they won’t be
-noticed there.”
-
-So they tucked them under the lower rail--a broad, flat rail that
-seemed to have been made on purpose to cover them--and then they both
-got straight up on their feet to stretch themselves. In the same
-instant they both started suddenly, and took to their heels.
-
-They ran till they were out of breath; and James Scott got a long way
-ahead of his friend Bobby. But Bobby came up with James before he
-started again, and asked, as soon as he could get breath enough, “_Was
-it Uncle Ben?_”
-
-“It must have been him, or his ghost,” was the reply. “Did you see his
-legs, Bobby?”
-
-“No. Did you?”
-
-“It didn’t look as if he had any. He was a queer-looking chap, anyhow.”
-
-“I wonder if he’s coming?” And Bobby seemed almost ready to start
-again. “Do you s’pose he knew us?”
-
-“Shouldn’t wonder if he did. But, if ’twas Uncle Ben, he’d know he
-couldn’t catch us. He must have been there all the time. I say, Bobby,
-I’m afraid we’ll hear about this.”
-
-“I don’t see how he happened to be right there! Oh, dear! I left my
-knife, too!”
-
-“I guess if t’was Uncle Ben he’ll take care of that. Of course he’ll
-know who it belongs to. If he gets that knife, he hadn’t oughter say
-anything about the water-melon. It’s worth more’n both on ’em.”
-
-“I know it. Don’t you suppose it _was_ Uncle Ben’s _ghost_, after all?
-I wish it was!”
-
-“It couldn’t have been, unless he’s died since noon, you know. He
-looked well enough then. Do you s’pose it would be of any use to go
-back, Bobby?”
-
-“No, indeed! I’d rather go home. I wish I had my knife, though. I
-wonder why he didn’t speak?”
-
-“That’s what _I_ don’t understand. I should have thought he would just
-said something, before we got out of hearing.”
-
-“Like as not it wasn’t him, after all.”
-
-“Like as not it wasn’t, Bobby. S’posing we go back.”
-
-“I’m going home,” was Bobby’s reply. “I don’t believe it pays to steal
-water-melons, anyway.”
-
-“’Twasn’t stealing, Bobby!--no such thing! Of course anybody’s a right
-to take a water-melon. Uncle Ben had no business to raise ’em, if folks
-had got to steal ’em before they could eat ’em!”
-
-“That’s so,” groaned Bobby. “I shouldn’t have thought he’d have planted
-them.”
-
-And so, groaning in spirit, Bobby went home. He had lost his knife, and
-everybody would know next day that he had been stealing water-melons.
-He couldn’t help thinking that the folks would call it _stealing_,
-after all.
-
-What to do he didn’t know; but he must go home at all events. He was
-never out very late, and when he went in his mother asked him where he
-had been. He said he had been over to James Scott’s.
-
-“I don’t like to have you over there so much, Bobby,” said his mother.
-“I am afraid James Scott is not a very good boy.”
-
-Bobby’s face was flushed, and he seemed very tired, so his mother told
-him he had better go to bed. He was glad enough to go, but he lay a
-long time thinking of his knife and the water-melons, and of Uncle Ben
-standing there by the fence, before he went to sleep.
-
-Bobby slept in the attic, up under the roof. There was another bed in
-the same attic for the hired man. There were also a great many things
-for which there was no room anywhere else,--large chests, piles of
-bedding, and things that had got past use.
-
-Bobby got to sleep at last; but he awoke in the night--something
-unusual for him--after the moon had risen, and was giving just light
-enough to show things in the room very dimly. He opened his eyes, and
-almost the first object he saw caused his heart to beat very quickly.
-Somebody was sitting upon one of those large chests. It was a dim and
-indistinct form, but it looked ghostly white in the moonlight, and
-Bobby could not help feeling afraid. He had never seen a ghost, fairly,
-but he began to think now that he had one in his room.
-
-Bobby lay and watched that ghost, feeling warm and cold by turns, till
-at last he was sure it was beginning to look like Uncle Ben. The wind
-had begun to blow, and to move the branches of the old elm outside,
-thus causing the moonlight to flicker fitfully in the room. It seemed
-as if it must be Uncle Ben! Bobby could see him laugh, though he could
-not hear a sound except the sighing wind and the swaying branches of
-the old elm, mingling dolefully with the snoring of the hired man.
-
-The ghost laughed and shook his head by turns, and pointed his finger
-at Bobby, as if to say, “_I’ve marked you!_”
-
-Bobby began to imagine that Uncle Ben had been run over by a cart, or
-killed in some way that very afternoon, and that his ghost was really
-there. He was almost glad it was so, for he could endure the ghost,
-disagreeable as he felt his presence to be, much better than meet Uncle
-Ben alive, with that knife in his possession.
-
-So he shivered, and sweat, and reasoned himself more firmly into the
-belief that it was Uncle Ben’s ghost that was sitting on the chest. He
-was glad of it, for now he could go in the morning and find his knife,
-and hide that other water-melon before anyone else should pass that
-way. Still the presence of the ghost was very disagreeable to him; and
-at last he ventured to go and get into the other bed with the hired
-man, rather than lie longer alone.
-
-The hired man stopped snoring, turned over, woke up, and asked Bobby
-what was the matter.
-
-“There’s somebody up here,” said Bobby, ashamed to own that it was a
-ghost.
-
-“Who? where?” and the hired man sat up and looked around.
-
-“On that chest,” said Bobby. “Don’t you see him?”
-
-“Ye--yes; I see him.” And, as if afraid to speak again, the hired man
-watched the blinking countenance of the stranger closely.
-
-After a moment he got out of bed carefully, saying in a whisper as he
-did so:
-
-“How long has he been there, Bobby?”
-
-“Ever so long,” was Bobby’s reply. “Ain’t it a ghost?”
-
-“I guess so. I’ll find out, at all events,” and the bold fellow moved
-carefully towards it.
-
-He approached on tiptoe till he could almost touch it, and then he
-stopped.
-
-“It’s a ghost, Bobby,” said he, “sure enough; but I’ll fix him!”
-
-He just drew back one arm, and planted a prodigious blow right in the
-ghost’s stomach; and you ought to have seen that ghost jump!
-
-It went almost out of the window at one leap; but fell short, on the
-floor, and lay as if dead. The hired man went boldly back and got into
-bed, remarking:
-
-“That’s one of the ghosts we read about, Bobby; I guess he won’t
-trouble _us_ any more!”
-
-Bobby did not quite understand it. He began to think that Uncle Ben
-might be still living; but he went to sleep again, at last, and the
-next time he awoke it was morning. It was daylight, and the hired,
-man had gone down-stairs. He looked for the ghost. There he lay, sure
-enough, very quiet on the floor, but, after all, it was only a bag of
-feathers!
-
-So Bobby felt sure he would have to meet Uncle Ben, and that everybody
-would know all about it; and he felt very miserable all day, waiting
-for him to come. He did not go near James Scott, for he felt that it
-was largely owing to him that he had got into trouble. It wasn’t at all
-likely that he could or would help him out of it. He wanted dreadfully
-to go and look for his knife, but would no more have done that than
-he would have gone and drowned himself. Indeed, he did think rather
-seriously of doing the last; but, being a good swimmer, he supposed the
-probabilities would be against his sinking; and besides, he still had a
-regard for the feelings of his mother.
-
-It was a miserably long day, but after all Uncle Ben did not come. What
-could it mean? Bobby did not know, but he went to bed and slept better
-the next night. And the next day his fears began to wear away. It was
-night again, and still Uncle Ben had not come.
-
-The third morning Bobby was almost himself again. He was resolved, now,
-to go and look for his knife. It must be that Uncle Ben had not found
-it. If he had, he would certainly have made it known before this. He
-was quite sure, too, that Uncle Ben could not have known who those two
-boys were. So he went, with a lightened heart, early in the day, to
-look for his knife.
-
-Of course he took a roundabout way, that he might keep as far from
-Uncle Ben’s house as possible. Judge of his surprise and relief when he
-saw, on coming in sight of the spot, not Uncle Ben, but a dilapidated
-_scarecrow_. It stood leaning against the fence, where, having served
-its time, Uncle Ben had probably left it, neglected and forgotten.
-Being arrayed in one of Uncle Ben’s old coats, it did have a strange
-resemblance to the old man himself.
-
-“It’s all right, after all,” thought Bobby, and he hurried confidently
-forward to pick up his knife. But imagine now the surprise and fright
-that came into Bobby’s soft eyes when he found that his knife was not
-there! Neither the knife, the water-melon, _nor the water-melon rinds_!
-All were gone.
-
-Without stopping long, Bobby turned to retrace his steps. But as he
-did so some one called to him. It was Uncle Ben; and he stopped again
-and stood mute.
-
-“I’ve been waiting to see ye, Bobby,” said the old man, coming up. “I
-reckoned you’d come for your knife, and I thought you’d rather see me
-here than have me bring it home to ye. Of course I knew you’d been
-here, when I found this, but it wasn’t likely you’d come alone. I’m
-sorry you’ve been in bad company, Bobby. Your father and mother think
-you’re a good boy, and I don’t want them to think any other way. Of
-course _you_ don’t want them to think any other way, either, do you,
-Bobby?” And the old man looked kindly down into the soft eyes.
-
-Bobby made out to say that he did not.
-
-“That’s the reason, Bobby, why I didn’t bring the knife home. I thought
-I’d better give it to ye here. Now take it, and don’t for the world
-ever say a word to anybody how you lost it. And I want ye to come down
-to the melon-patch with me, for I’m going to send a nice mountain-sweet
-over to your mother.”
-
-Bobby took his knife, and followed Uncle Ben, unable to utter a word.
-As they went along, the old man talked to him of his corn and his
-pumpkins, just as if there was no reason in the world why he and Bobby
-should not be on the best of terms. He seemed to have quite forgotten
-that Bobby had ever stolen anything from him. Arrived at the patch he
-picked off one of the finest melons, as large as the boy could carry,
-and, after a little more talk, sent him with it to his mother.
-
-And so, after all, Bobby’s heart never felt lighter than it did that
-morning, after he had left Uncle Ben. He had at last found words to
-thank him, and to say that he was very sorry for what he had done, but
-scarce more. But that was all Uncle Ben wanted; and, so long as he
-lived, after that, he had no truer friend among the neighbor’s boys
-than Bobby Tatman.
-
-
-
-
-FUNNY LITTLE ALICE.
-
-BY MRS. FANNY BARROW (“AUNT FANNY”).
-
-
-Once on a time, not long ago, four little girls lived together in a
-large farm-house. It was quite by itself--on the top of a hill with
-thick woods all around it--but as it was full of people from the
-city, thirty miles away, and as these people were always polite to
-each other, and it was warm, sweet summer-time, they were very happy
-together.
-
-Daisy and May were sisters; Katie had another father and mother, and
-funny little Alice was the only child of a lady whose husband was dead,
-so Alice had no father. Poor little thing!
-
-But as she was only two and a half years old, she was too young to feel
-very sorry for herself, especially as all the ladies in the house loved
-and petted her; every gentleman rode her to “Banbury Cross” on his
-foot, and “jumped her” almost as high as the ceiling; and Daisy, May
-and Kate, who were each seven years old, let her come in to all their
-plays--which I hope _you_ also do, my little reader, with your baby
-sisters and brothers.
-
-One day Alice was walking in the road with her nurse. She had seen one
-of the ladies pick a checkerberry leaf out of the grass and eat it, so
-she pulled up a handful of leaves and crammed them into her mouth.
-
-“Oh, take them out, take them out! Do, Alice!” cried the nurse. “They
-may be poison! If you swallow them you will die, and have to lie in the
-cold grave, and the worms will eat you up!”
-
-But the nurse had to pull her mouth open, and dig out the leaves, for
-Alice had never before heard of the cold grave, and she did not care a
-button about it.
-
-That night her mamma, with whom the little girl slept, was awakened by
-a feeling as if some one were choking her, and found Alice sleeping
-with her curly head buried in her mother’s neck, and the rest of her
-little fat body spread across her breast. She lifted the child gently,
-and put her back on her own pillow. But the next instant Alice flung
-herself again on her mother.
-
-“Don’t, dear,” she said; “you _must_ lie on your own side. It hurts me
-to have your head on my throat.”
-
-“Well,” said the sleepy little thing, “if you don’t let me I shall die,
-and have to lie in the _told drave_, and the _wullims_ will eat me up.”
-
-Her mother was perfectly astonished at this speech. She could not
-imagine where Alice had heard it; but _we_ know, don’t we?
-
-The farmer had a poor old fiddle-headed white horse, whose stiff old
-legs couldn’t run away if the rest of him wanted to, and the young
-ladies used to drive him by themselves in a buggy. The morning after
-Alice’s speech two young ladies took her driving with them. She sat on
-a little bench at their feet, and went off in high glee.
-
-It was cloudy, and, for fear it might rain, they took a big waterproof
-cloak. Before they got back it was pouring down, so all were buttoned
-up in the cloak, with Alice’s little round rosy face just peeping out
-in front. The old white horse jogged on not a bit faster than usual,
-though Miss Lizzie, who was driving, slapped his back with the reins
-the whole time. At last he whisked up his tail, and twisted it in the
-reins.
-
-“Oh, now, just look at that horrid old tail!” said Miss Lizzie. “How am
-I ever to get rid of it?”
-
-“It is not a horrid old tail!” cried Alice, her sweet hazel eyes
-flashing. “It’s a nice white tail! He’s a booful horse, with a nice
-white tail.”
-
-“Well, so he is,” said Miss Lizzie, laughing. “So hurra for the booful
-horse!”
-
-This reminded the funny little thing of one of her songs, which she
-immediately set up at the top of her voice, and as they reached the
-house in the pouring rain, the ladies inside heard Alice singing with
-all her little might:
-
-        “Woar, boys, fevver!
-         Woar, boys, woar!
-      Down with the tritty!
-         Up with the ’tar!
-  We’ll rally round the f’ag, boys,
-      Rally round ’gain,
-  Shoutin’ the batter crider _fee_-dom!”[3]
-
-[3] These are the words little Alice meant, as I suppose you all know:
-
-        “Hurra, boys, forever!
-         Hurra, boys, hurra!
-        Down with the traitor!
-         Up with the star!
-  We’ll rally round the flag, boys,
-        Rally round again,
-  Shouting the battle cry of freedom!”
-
-That afternoon, when it had cleared up, Daisy said:
-
-“Come, May, come, Katie, let’s take our dolls and have a picnic.”
-
-“I want to picnic, too,” cried Alice.
-
-“So you shall, you little darling,” said all the girls, running to her
-and kissing her, “and you can bring Nancy with you.”
-
-Nancy was a knit worsted doll, with two jet beads for eyes. She slept
-with Alice, who loved her dearly, and who now ran off to get her, in a
-great state of delight.
-
-The children took a lunch, of course; for who ever heard of a picnic
-without it? A stick of peppermint candy was broken in four pieces,
-which, with four ginger-cakes and four huge apples, begged from the
-farmer’s wife, were packed in a little basket, and then they set off,
-all running, for no girl or boy can walk when they are so happy; at
-least, I never knew of any--have you?
-
-The warm, bright sun had dried up all the drops on the grass long
-before. They ran merrily through the meadow at the back of the house,
-and soon got to the entrance to the wood. There they found a nice,
-mossy place, and, sitting down on the old roots of the trees, they
-spread their lunch on a large, flat stone that was near, and commenced
-to “tell stories.”
-
-“Last night,” began Daisy, “I woke up, and I thought I would get out of
-bed, and look out of the window; and what _do_ you think I saw?”
-
-“Oh! what?” cried the rest, with their mouths wide open.
-
-“Why, I saw ten thousand diamonds dancing and sparkling in the dark.”
-
-“Oh, oh! I wish I had seen them!” cried May and Katie.
-
-This was the first time that Daisy had seen the fire-flies flashing
-their soft, bright lights. She did not mean to tell a falsehood; she
-really thought that they were diamonds.
-
-“My mamma went to a party last winter, and what _do_ you think she
-ate?” asked Katie.
-
-“What?” inquired May and Daisy.
-
-“Frogs!” said Katie.
-
-“Oh! oh! how awful!” cried May and Daisy--but all this time little
-Alice had said nothing.
-
-“Once I saw an elephant,” said May in her turn. “It was in the
-menagerie. A little boy stuck a pin in his trunk, and he caught the
-boy up by his jacket, and shook him right out of it, and hurt him so!
-and he screamed like everything!”
-
-“Oh, oh! how dreadful!” exclaimed Katie and Daisy, but little Alice
-said nothing--because _she was not there_! While the others had been
-lost in wonder over the stories, she had trotted off farther into the
-woods, clasping her dear Nancy in her arms, and softly singing this
-queer little song:
-
-  “By-lo-by, my darlin’ baby,
-            Baby,
-            Taby,
-            Faby,
-            Maby,
-        Darlin’ baby.”
-
-“There, now, she’s fas’ as’eep,” said Alice. “Sh! sh!” She laid Nancy
-softly down among the mossy roots of a hollow tree, and, sitting close
-beside her, she heaved a funny little sigh, and said: “Oh, my! that
-child will wear me out!” which was a speech her nurse had very often
-made to her.
-
-Soon there was a rustling sound. The hollow tree was full of dry, dead
-leaves, and out of these a huge black snake came crawling. It slowly
-curled itself round Nancy, and then lay quite still.
-
-Alice looked curiously at a creature she had never before seen, or even
-heard of. Then she put out one little fat hand, and gently patted the
-snake on its head.
-
-“Did you want to see my Nancy?” she asked. “Well, so you s’all, poor
-sing!” Then she smoothed the snake’s head, who appeared to like it very
-much, for it shut its eyes and seemed to sleep.
-
-And the sweet little tender-hearted child, never dreaming of any
-danger from the loathsome reptile, looked up and smiled at the birds
-piping over her head, and kept on softly smoothing the head of her
-plaything.
-
-And this was how “Mitter ’Trong,” as she called the gentleman who rode
-her oftenest to “Banbury Cross,” found Alice, as he was walking through
-the wood that summer afternoon. No wonder that he screamed, and rushed
-to her, and caught her up and kissed her, and almost cried, and then
-went at the snake with his stick.
-
-But it was as frightened as he was, and May, Daisy and Kate came
-running up, just as it was squirming back into the hollow tree. Then
-there were three more screams, and their six bright eyes grew perfectly
-wild with terror--while little Alice looked on very much surprised, but
-not a bit frightened.
-
-The children had missed their dear little playmate at last, and, very
-much alarmed and ashamed of their carelessness, were searching for her.
-
-Mr. Strong carried little Alice home in triumph on his shoulder, where
-she was kissed and cried over again, and Mr. Strong was thanked for
-saving her.
-
-The black snake might not have bitten her, but it might have squeezed
-such a little thing to death, so Mr. Strong and another gentleman went
-back, and poked the snake out of the hollow tree, and killed it; and,
-finding Nancy patiently waiting for some one to come for her, they
-brought her back to the arms of her cunning little mother. And after
-this, funny little Alice never went out without her nurse.
-
-We must bid her good-bye now, because this story is long enough; but
-some day I will tell you more about her.
-
-[Illustration]
-
-
-
-
-“PRETTY,” AND HER VIOLIN.
-
-BY HOLME MAXWELL.
-
-Felice was a servant. She was just twenty years old, but she was like a
-child in our land. She talked a little, soft, broken English; our words
-were very, very hard for her fine, pretty Italian lips to manage. She
-was tall, and extremely refined and delicate; every one admits this
-now, but her little girl-mistress saw it at a glance, as Felice came in
-behind papa, pausing, tall and slender, with her exquisite brown hair
-and brown eyes, to be addressed.
-
-“Here is your mistress,” said the papa to Felice, indicating the young
-girl dressed in white. “She is the little woman of the house, and will
-tell you about your duties.”
-
-Felice bowed like a tall lily, as the “mistress,” so much younger and
-so much smaller than herself, came forward, slowly and with irregular
-steps, leaning upon a fairy sort of cane. “You are pretty, pretty,
-pretty--pretty as I could ask for,” said the young girl.
-
-Felice was not accustomed to be taken by her mistresses with two
-tender, white hands, and called “Pretty, pretty, pretty.” A soft color
-came into her pale, clear cheeks, and her eyes grew liquid as she bent
-over the little girl without speaking. But when the little girl turned
-away, looking so quaint in her stylish white dress, as she leaned upon
-her little cane, Felice instinctively followed her. She placed the
-velvet hassock under her feet as she sat down, and slipped the cane
-into the “rest” attached to the small lounging-chair.
-
-“Can you make a bed nicely, Pretty?” said the little girl.
-
-“Yes, mees,” answered Felice.
-
-“Can you put the room nicely, Pretty?”
-
-“Yes, mees.”
-
-“And do birds and flowers and gold-fish prosper with you, Pretty?”
-
-“I cannot tell you, mees.”
-
-“Can you sew nicely?”
-
-“Mees say _nicely_--no, alas! I work not with the needle, none, in four
-year.”
-
-“Well, then, can you read,--our English books? you know,--and a long
-while at a time? Pray, don’t say no.”
-
-“Alas, mees, I know not to read the Ingleese, none. Ah, mees, I think
-now to my heart this is one meestake. You wish not me. You wish not one
-chambermaid.”
-
-“You cannot know what I wish, my Pretty.” But the little mistress’s
-face was downcast and clouded. From under her sunny eyelashes she
-studied the long, slender, folded hands of poor “Pretty.” They were
-browned and hardened with rougher labors than hair-dressing, and
-embroidering, the mending of laces, or the tending of flowers.
-
-She pointed at last to a door across the hall. “Your room, Pretty. Have
-your things brought up.”
-
-“_Felice_,” corrected the soft Italian lips.
-
-“No, _Pretty_,” persisted the little mistress, with a lovely smile.
-
-This little girl of fourteen--Lulu Redfern--was mistress of many
-things: of a brown-stone mansion, of her papa, and of his immense
-wealth. She was almost like a fairy in her willfulness and in her
-power. Why might she not change her servant’s name if she chose?
-
-While “Pretty” was gone, Mr. Redfern came back. “Papa,” said the
-mistress, “of what were you thinking? Pretty does not sew, does not
-understand flowers and pets, does not read, does not even dress hair!”
-
-“Don’t she?” said papa, crestfallen. “Why, she looks as if she did.”
-
-“Papa, did you ask at all?”
-
-“No,” confessed papa, “I did not. I supposed, of course, she could;
-else why did she apply. Can’t she be of any use, my birdie?”
-
-“I don’t see how, papa.”
-
-“Well, then, we shall have to send her away, I suppose. I fancied she
-would be quite the person you would like to have about you--she is so
-different from that fluttering, nervous French Adele. But you certainly
-do not need another mere chambermaid.”
-
-“Yet, papa, I cannot have her go, now that she has come. Can’t I keep
-her, papa, to look at? She won’t cost so much as a Sevres vase.”
-
-Felice, with her droopy face and soft steps, was passing. She had a
-small satchel in one hand, and in the other--what do you suppose?
-
-A violin-case, little, black, old.
-
-“Whew!” said papa to himself. “That’s queer luggage.” But Miss Redfern
-did not see the queer luggage.
-
-So “Pretty” staid, on the footing of a Sevres vase; and drooped over
-and about her little mistress like a beautiful lily wherever she went,
-and that was nearly all she could do for many days.
-
-Now, this little girl, who could have everything almost, could not
-have everything quite. She loved music beyond all things else; but on
-account of her little lame feet she could not play. The grand piano was
-for the guests. Rare players used to come and play for her; and none of
-the music ever seemed to depart from the house, so that all the rooms
-were haunted by divine harmonies. When Lulu lay awake at night, kept
-awake by pain, the wondrous strains played themselves again at her ear,
-and the sweet, pure young soul took wings to itself, and swept away and
-away among lovely scenes, until lameness and pain and a thwarted life
-were quite forgotten.
-
-It was one night, about a week after Felice came. She had lifted her
-mistress into bed, and had said, “I wish you a most lofely good night,
-Mees Looloo,” and had gone. It was not a “most lofely” night. “Mees
-Looloo’s” little feet were throbbing with pain worse than ever before;
-but about midnight she was growing hushed and serene. There were wafts
-and breathings of Mendelssohn, and Wagner, and Mozart, and Beethoven
-all about her; and she was falling asleep, when, suddenly, a fine,
-sweet, joyous, living strain pierced through the dreamy songs and
-harmonies.
-
-Lulu lifted her head. She knew in a moment that _this_ was real
-music. Enchanting as were her dreams by both night and day, no one
-so clear-headed as the little mistress. She had sat and listened too
-often for coming and going feet, for closing doors, to be mistaken as
-to the source of any sound. This midnight music came from “Pretty’s”
-room; and she who loved reed, and pipe, and horn, and string so well,
-knew that it was the rarest violin-music.
-
-It was entrancingly sweet. Air after air entirely unknown to the
-little music lover floated out on the still midnight. Poor little Miss
-Redfern! She buried her face in her pillows and sobbed in an ecstasy of
-happiness. “Now I know what it is so pure, so high, that I see in my
-Pretty’s face. It is that which is in the faces of all the artists that
-come here. My Pretty is no servant. Papa said that she looked as if she
-could do all these things--papa felt she was an artist. Papa could not
-help bring her, I could not help keep her,--O, my own Pretty!”
-
-By and by the music ceased; and, listening, Lulu heard the violin
-deposited in the box.
-
-She looked bright as a bird when her maid came to lift her to the bath,
-next morning. “Ah, Mees Looloo, I wish you a lofely good morning.”
-
-“It is both lovely and good, dear Pretty,” said the child-mistress,
-stooping to kiss the long artist fingers busy with her sleeve-buttons.
-“I understand these fingers now.”
-
-“Haf you not always understood their mooch slow ways, Mees Looloo?”
-
-“Mees Looloo” clasped the two strong, nervous hands close to her
-breast. “Pretty! I know what they were made for; they are the
-musician’s hands. I heard you last night. I heard a violin in your
-room. How could you have it here, Pretty, and not bring it out when I
-am often so tired and need to be soothed?”
-
-“O, Mees Looloo, I haf not thought. I haf played when I could not haf
-sleep to mine eyes, and haf thought of Etalee.”
-
-Then Lulu heard the simple story. It was the violin belonging to
-Felice’s father, and Felice had handled it from her babyhood. She had
-brought it to America and had carried it from place to place with her.
-Nobody had cared; nobody had questioned the poor young chambermaid.
-
-But “Mees Looloo” cared. “Pretty” brought the violin as simply as if
-bidden to bring a flower or a book. It was old, dark, rich--mellow in
-its hues as in its tones.
-
-“May papa come up?”
-
-[Illustration]
-
-“I haf always lofed to please you, mees,” said “Pretty.” “But I haf
-nevaire learn moosic. I haf none other but vary old moosic.”
-
-There were, indeed, some old, yellow sheets of foreign music lying in
-the bottom of the case; but Felice did not take them out. “I know in my
-heart this moosic--father’s lofely moosic.”
-
-She lifted the instrument to her bosom. She laid her clear, dark cheek
-against it lovingly, in the unconscious fashion of the true lovers of
-the violin; her fingers, long, supple, dark, sounded the chords; the
-bow gleamed and glanced as it sought the strings; and, bending over it,
-“Pretty’s” young face paled and flushed gloriously, as the father’s
-“lofely moosic” stirred her two listeners to tears.
-
-The child mistress talked to papa in a very excited manner as he bore
-her away on his shoulder to the breakfast-room. Papa listened, papa
-thought, and, finally, papa assented.
-
-“I think so, dear. She is worth it! There are only you and I to spend
-the money, and why shall we not do as we like, birdie?”
-
-So little lame Miss Redfern was to be a Patron of Music. That was
-almost as good as to be a musician.
-
-“Pretty” could refuse nothing to her dear little mistress. In her
-loving simplicity she did as she was bidden, even to the trying on of
-one handsome dress after another when she was taken to the fine shops.
-And at night, after the hair-dresser was done with the soft curls of
-her brown hair, and she stood before the mirror in her lace frills and
-silk dress, she simply said in her soft, limited English, “You have
-made me mose lofely, Mees Looloo.”
-
-In the evening, when the invited guests--bearded and spectacled men,
-and fine and gracious women--were gathered down in the gardens below,
-among the lighted trees and the fountains and the arbors, the tall,
-simple “Pretty” obeyed her mistress again without a question. Lifting
-her violin to her bosom, she came out upon the balcony, and played
-once more the old Italian music. With bared heads and silent lips the
-company of musicians stood to listen.
-
-Soft bravos, fluttering handkerchiefs, showers of fresh flowers,
-greeted simple “Pretty.” They thought her some new star, and this her
-private _début_.
-
-What was their surprise to hear it was the little Miss Redfern’s maid
-whom they had thus quietly been brought to see and pass judgment upon!
-But, gracefully, nay generously, they acknowledged her as thoroughly
-worth the musical education Mr. Redfern and his daughter were planning
-to bestow.
-
-To simple “Pretty” herself, simple with all the honesty and
-unconsciousness of true genius, the great plan was not at all too
-strange, nor too great. If one had offered her beauty or pleasure in
-another shape, she might have drawn back from the gift--but not from
-music. It did not seem to surprise her that she was going back to the
-Old World, and not as a steerage passenger, but dressed in costly
-robes, and under the care of friends, to study with the great masters
-of music.
-
-“I will come back, dear Mees Looloo, and sing to you and the kind papa
-lofelier than you can think, when I sall haf staid long. Some other day
-you sall haf to be proud of your ‘Pretty.’”
-
-Yes, some day “Pretty” will come back to her little mistress, and to
-us, with the sweet old Italian violin.
-
-[Illustration]
-
-
-
-
-[Illustration]
-
-DOLLY’S LAST NIGHT.
-
-BY EMILY HUNTINGTON MILLER.
-
-The clock in the warm, bright kitchen was striking nine; not nine
-in the morning, but nine in the evening, which is a very different
-thing, as the old clock seemed to know, for it counted off the chime
-with a soft, sleepy roll, as if bent upon making the least possible
-disturbance.
-
-Dolly put the cookies into the deep tin box that had held thousands
-of such dainties in its day, set the lid a-tilt upon the edge, gave a
-glance of satisfaction at the great loaves peeping out from the white
-cloth that covered them, the row of pies on the shelf below, and the
-plump chickens trussed up sociably on the platter, and then came out
-from the pantry, and shut the door upon the savory smells. Dolly was
-not a beauty, but she had a clear, fresh face, and was full of health
-and vigor and content. She was a model housekeeper, too, as the old
-clock could have testified, and this was the first time it had been
-called upon to countenance such irregular doings as the turning of
-night into day. But this was the night before Thanksgiving, and when
-one is cook, chambermaid, housekeeper, and mistress of the manse,
-she certainly has a right to regulate her own days in spite of the
-almanac-man.
-
-Yes, and nurse besides; for on the lounge lay Dolly’s mother, not
-exactly sick, but weak from a long fever that had left her ankles so
-swollen and painful that she could not walk a step without assistance.
-Bess and Johnny had been away through it all, but now their father had
-gone for them, and early in the morning they would reach home,--the
-pleasant prairie home, with its broad, boundless fields, from which
-they expected some day to reap a fortune.
-
-The lounge was in the kitchen, for the Marshalls cared a great deal
-more for comfort than ceremony, and Dolly’s kitchen, with its clean
-yellow floor, bright rugs, white table, and window full of growing
-plants, was a famous place for comfort.
-
-“I hope you are through at last,” said Mrs. Marshall, looking up
-sleepily at Dolly.
-
-“All but the candy, and that’ll not take long,” said Dolly cheerily.
-
-“For pity’s sake, do let the candy go; the children are just as well
-off without it.”
-
-“Oh, but I promised Johnny I’d have some for him, and it wouldn’t seem
-like Thanksgiving without it. The nuts are all cracked, and I’ll sit
-here and pick out the goodies while the molasses boils,” and Dolly
-whisked out the clean iron skillet, and poured the molasses in so
-quickly her mother could only say: “You’ll kill yourself working so
-hard, and what good do you think that will do the children?”
-
-“Choog! choog!” said the molasses in its hurry to get out of the jug,
-and Dolly smiled as she coaxed it to make less haste and more speed.
-
-“I’m tough as a pine knot,” she said, merrily; “but if I were really
-going to die I should like to have the children say, ‘She always tried
-to help us have good times, and the very last night she was here she
-made us some candy.’”
-
-There was a foolish little moisture in Dolly’s eyes as she dropped into
-the low-cushioned chair, the same old creaky chair in which her mother
-had rocked her when she was a baby, and in which she herself had rocked
-Bess and Johnny scores of times. She was very tired, now that she came
-to sit down and think about it, and her little speech wakened a sort of
-pathetic pity for herself. She even began to fancy what they would all
-do without her, but just at that point the molasses made a sudden rush
-for the top of the skillet, and put an end to her musing.
-
-Mrs. Marshall roused up a little also.
-
-“It seems so strange to have Thanksgiving come without a flake of snow!
-Joel says it is as dry as midsummer, too. I never feel easy about the
-stacks until there’s a good fall of snow.”
-
-“Joel is very careful,” suggested Dolly, “and father plowed a good
-strip around the stacks before he went away.”
-
-“Yes, I know. But what good would a few furrows do against a prairie
-fire such a time as this?”
-
-“Then we’ll hope the Lord’ll not let a fire start in such a time as
-this,” and Dolly seized her boiling syrup at the precise moment of
-crispiness, poured it over the plump white kernels spread thickly in
-the shallow pans, and set the whole to cool in the back kitchen.
-
-When everything was tidy, and Dolly was ready to help her mother to
-bed, the old clock ventured to remark, in the same soft purr as before,
-that it only lacked two hours to midnight; to which Dolly smilingly
-answered that Thanksgiving only came once a year.
-
-“How the colts stamp,” said Dolly. “I wonder if Joel could have
-forgotten to water them before he went home.”
-
-“Joel ought not to have gone home,” said her mother. “It isn’t right
-for two lone women to be left with no neighbors within a mile. Are you
-sure the fire is all right, Dolly? seems to me there’s a smoky smell in
-here.”
-
-“It’s the molasses, I dropped a little on the stove; but I’ll go out
-and see that all is right after you are in bed, and then we shall both
-feel better.”
-
-Dolly went without her lamp, and as she passed the hall window she
-caught sight of a dull red glow, down against the dark horizon. In
-another instant she stood outside, her rosy color all blanched at sight
-of the fire sweeping down the prairie on those swift, terrible wings of
-the west wind. For an instant she was dizzy and confused with terror at
-the thought of her utter helplessness, then, as if a voice had repeated
-it to her, she recalled the verse she had read that morning, “_What
-time I am afraid, I will trust in Thee_,” and, with a silent prayer for
-help, she went back to her mother.
-
-“The prairie is on fire,” she said, trying to speak quietly.
-
-Her mother sprang from the bed, and sank down, almost fainting, from
-pain.
-
-“O Dolly!” she gasped, “we shall die here all alone.”
-
-“I’ll make a good fight, first,” said Dolly, bravely. “I must go and
-do what I can, and you must wait here and _pray_. Only perhaps you had
-better get your clothes on again, in case of the worst.”
-
-Dolly threw some heavy shawls upon the bed, placed her mother’s clothes
-within reach, hugged her once, and rushed away. In two minutes more she
-had put on Joel’s boots, tied up her curly head in an old comforter,
-and buttoned herself into her father’s coat. She was ready to fight
-fire, and she knew just how to do it. But first the colts must be
-taken from the low thatched stable that would be sure to blaze at the
-first spark. Already they were growing restless with the strong smell
-of smoke, and that strange intuition of danger which horses seem to
-possess. Dolly had some difficulty in leading them out, and then she
-hardly knew what to do with them, for she knew well enough they would
-go scouring off when the fire came near. She was a quick-witted little
-woman, however, and she soon had the colts in the back kitchen, tied
-fast to the old carpet loom. Then she filled the tubs and pails with
-water, and set them along the line of the buildings, cut some heavy
-branches of hemlock, and brought out the horse-blankets and dipped them
-in water.
-
-The house, behind its clump of evergreens, might possibly escape, but
-there seemed little chance for the low barn, the granary, and the
-immense stacks of hay, yet in them lay their hopes for a year, and
-Dolly determined not to give them up without a desperate struggle.
-She scarcely dared look at the fire, but she saw once how a brighter
-light leaped up as the flames caught a barn or a stack of hay in the
-distance. As rapidly as possible she broadened the circle about the
-line of buildings, lighting the thick grass with one hand, and dashing
-out the flame with the other, when it threatened to go beyond her
-control. She felt almost guilty as she saw the blaze she had kindled
-go sweeping away towards the east, carrying the same terror to others
-which was rapidly coming down upon her, but it was her only chance of
-escape, and there was not another house between them and the river. She
-worked on in desperation as the air grew thick with smoke, and at last
-she could hear the roar and crackle when the flames swept the great
-corn-field, fairly leaping along the rows of dry stalks. It was almost
-upon her, and she ran back within her burned circle, and waited for
-doom.
-
-Her hands were blistered, her eye-lashes were burned off, but she did
-not know it. She only watched, with every nerve tense and throbbing, to
-see if the fire would leap the line. It died down a little in spots,
-crept sullenly along the edge, as if loth to go by, flamed up here and
-there at a bunch of tall weeds, then, with a sudden puff, the wind
-lodged a whirling handful of cinders at the foot of the great straw
-stack!
-
-Dolly sprang at it like a tiger, tearing away the burning straw, and
-striking right and left with the wet blanket. Then a little blaze crept
-under the fence, and she beat the life out of it in a breath. Another
-whirl of cinders upon the roof of the stable, but they fell black and
-harmless. Then another blaze running along the edge of the shed, but
-the water was ready for it; and Dolly, with eyes everywhere, ran, and
-beat, and trampled, until at last the fire veered away to the south,
-and left the little homestead safe in the midst of a blackened waste.
-
-Dolly walked back and forth, around the stacks and the buildings,
-whipping out the smallest sparks, and then turned towards the house in
-a stupor of exhaustion. She wanted to lie right down on the warm ground
-by the side of the straw pile, and go to sleep, but she had enough
-sense left to reach the house, and make her way to her mother’s room.
-
-“We’re all right, mother,” she said in a husky voice, “the fire has
-gone by;” and dropping upon the bed, smoke, dirt, boots, and all, she
-sank into a heavy sleep. Her mother tried in vain to rouse her, so she
-dragged the shawls over her, and watched anxiously for morning. But as
-the gray light began to reveal Dolly’s face, she was terrified at its
-ghastly whiteness, intensified by the soot and smoke which begrimed it.
-She tried again to rouse her, but Dolly lay in a stupor, and she could
-only clasp her hands and pray for help. She crept painfully from the
-bed, and was trying to drag herself to the door, when Joel rode up on
-horseback, with his wife behind him. She was a stout, red-cheeked young
-woman, and, springing off without waiting for help, ran to the back
-kitchen, where there were sounds of some one stirring.
-
-“Miss Dolly splittin’ kindlin’s, I’ll be bound! Joel’s jest that
-shiftless not to think on’t. My gracious Peter!” she exclaimed, as she
-suddenly opened the door, and found herself confronted by one of the
-colts.
-
-She left Joel to settle matters with the colts, and made her way to
-Mrs. Marshall and Dolly, carrying the poor lady back to bed in her
-strong arms, as if she had been a baby.
-
-“Don’t you worry about Dolly, ma’am,” she said, confidently, “she’ll
-sleep it off, and come out all right, and I’ll just take off my things
-and do for you. I can stop as well as not; our house was burned up, and
-we just managed to save ourselves, so you see I ain’t got a smitch o’
-work to do for myself.”
-
-“Your house burned! Oh, Sarah, how hard that is for you and Joel,” said
-Mrs. Marshall.
-
-“Yes’m, it’s a kind of a pity, and I’d got the nicest kind of a chicken
-pie ready for Thanksgivin’. We never see the fire till it was jest
-ketchin’ holt of us, and then we got on the colt and raced it down the
-gully to Dickerman’s pond ahead of the fire. We just made a go of it,
-and set there till mornin’. Says I, ‘Joel, it’s Thanksgivin’ day; be ye
-right down thankful?’ And Joel he looked at me and says, kind o’ solemn
-like, ‘_Yes, I be!_’ And so be I, ’cause we might ’a been burned in our
-bed, leastways I might, if Dolly hadn’t been so considerin’ as to let
-Joel come home.”
-
-Sarah had been all the time tugging at Dolly, pulling off boots and
-coat, and undoing her scorched hair. She bathed her face and hands, and
-lifted her upon the pillow, but Mrs. Marshall’s terror only increased
-at seeing Dolly remain perfectly passive, never opening her eyes,
-and allowing Sarah to lift her as if she were dead. Hour after hour
-she slept on, only when Sarah raised her on her vigorous arm, and fed
-her with chicken broth, forcing it patiently into the closed mouth,
-until at last a little color crept into the pallid face, and the sleep
-was not so death-like. But even at nine o’clock, when the travelers
-arrived, Dolly gave them a doubtful recognition. She smiled faintly at
-the children’s kisses, stared for an instant at her father’s anxious
-face, and then went on dozing and muttering. Bess stole in and out on
-tiptoe, the tears dropping down on her pet kitten, and Johnny blundered
-about with his mouth full of delicious candy his very heart dissolving
-with grief and gratitude.
-
-Dolly talked about the candy, and Johnny was impressed with the idea
-that she wanted some, and actually made an attempt to administer
-a small chunk, but he was not very successful, and Dolly kept on
-muttering: “The very last night she was here she made them some candy;
-the very last night; the very last night; but they couldn’t find it;
-they never could find it; the fire came and burnt them all up; the very
-last night; the--very--last--night.”
-
-If there had been a doctor at hand, Sarah would have given up her
-patient to a course of brain fever, with proper deference; but as
-there was none within twenty miles she was compelled to persevere with
-her sensible applications of water, friction, and chicken broth, and
-in a couple of days she had the satisfaction of seeing Dolly laugh in
-quite a natural fashion at Joel’s story of the gray colt, which was
-taken from the kitchen with one foot firmly bedded in a pan of molasses
-candy.
-
-“’Twasn’t all stepped on,” said Johnny, “and I saved you a chunk. I’m
-awful glad you made it, ’cause nobody ’tended to Thanksgiving very
-much.”
-
-“I’m glad I made it,” said Dolly, “for I should not have seen the fire
-in time if I had gone to bed earlier. I remember something foolish
-about its being my last night,” and Dolly smiled doubtfully at her
-mother, not feeling quite sure what she had said, and what she had only
-thought.
-
-“It was not foolish at all, dear,” said her mother, kissing the
-scorched fingers. “Nothing better could be said of any life, than that
-it was a sacrifice for others.”
-
-“Shet yer eyes, Dolly, and never mind about yer last days,” said Sarah,
-decidedly; “you won’t see ’em this fifty year, if things is managed
-anyway reasonable.”
-
-[Illustration]
-
-
-
-
-[Illustration]
-
-NIB AND MEG.
-
-BY ELLA FARMAN.
-
-And who do you suppose rang at the Doll Doctor’s door one Saturday.
-
-Two noticeable personages, I assure you.
-
-Three or four lovely phaetons were drawn up before the house; the
-drawing-room was open; and pretty faces, set in brown, and black, and
-yellow hair, and crowned with flowery hats, were looking out until
-every one of Miss Chatty’s windows seemed like a painting thronged with
-cherubs; small ladies, gloved and parasolled, and draped _à la mode_,
-were coming and going up and down the front steps; and Miss Teresa Drew
-was just stepping from the beautiful family carriage, that had its
-coachman, and its footmen, and its crested panels, and her tall French
-maid was behind her with a doll and a doll’s maid in her arms--but all
-the gay show didn’t begin to attract the attention that was universally
-bestowed, the moment they appeared in sight, upon the two queer little
-beings who came across the street, unattended and on foot, right up to
-Miss Chatty’s gate.
-
-But, you see, _they_ were gotten up in their very, very best. I am not
-a fashion writer, my dears, and I couldn’t begin to tell you, so that
-you would have a clear idea, how Miss Teresa Drew was dressed; but I
-must try to give you the _tout ensemble_ of these two new children.
-“_Tout ensemble_,” my Wide Awakes, is one of those French phrases that
-mean so much, and are so handy, but which take so many of our English
-words in the translation; a little miss of my acquaintance renders it
-as “the _all-over-ness_ of a person.” The costume of these children had
-a peculiar _all-over-ness_. Their shawls, a pair of ragged and worn
-broches, enveloped them to the throat and dragged after them; and the
-effect over short dresses and bare legs was striking; and the shawls,
-in both cases, were surmounted by old straw hats which looked, for all
-the world, like two much-battered toadstools.
-
-Miss Chatty happened to see them coming up to the door, all her
-richly-dressed little people drawing aside to let them pass; and
-she dropped her order-book and made her way through her _à-la-mode_
-cherubs, and answered the door-bell herself.
-
-“Be you the Doll Doctor, mem?” asked the elder of the children.
-
-Miss Chatty intimated that she was.
-
-“They told us as wot you lived here, mem, and as how you could put
-the wust cases together.” Opening her shawl, she drew forth a bundle,
-and, dropping upon one knee, undid it deftly. She was self-possessed
-in spite of her bare feet; but Miss Chatty was much embarrassed. The
-children, evidently, were street Arabs, and she hesitated, from various
-reasons, to ask them in among her little girls; but neither had she the
-heart to dismiss them; besides, she was, withal, considerably curious
-and amused. The hands busy with the bundle were very hard, and very
-tanned; the face, all intent upon the knot of the string, was strangely
-quaint and mature,--indeed, the utter absence of childish timidity and
-embarrassment was perhaps the chief reason why Miss Chatty hesitated,
-with such a dear, funny, soft-hearted manner, in her treatment of these
-new patrons.
-
-Finally the knot was untied. A couple of dolls’ heads were displayed,
-very much curtailed as to nose, badly rubbed as to their black china
-curls, and sadly crackled as to their cheeks, as cheeks will after long
-painting.
-
-“There, mem, Nib and me, us found these in an ash bar’l one day,” said
-the girl. “But jest heads hain’t much to hug; and Nib and me’s got
-nither time nor patterns for bodies; and wen us heard as wot there
-was a Doll Doctor, us done ’thout a breckfus mornin’s, and saved up
-fer ter buy ther cloth an’ ther waddink. Ther cloth is ter cut out
-ther bodies, and ther waddink is ter stuff ’em--Nib an’ me don’t like
-sawdust--waddink won’t go ter run out ’f ther’s a rip. An’, mem, Nib
-an’ me, us hopes as they’ll be done a-Saturdy. An’ here, mem, is wot
-us hopes’ll make a dress for ’em both. An’ here, mem, is ther thread
-ter sew it. An’ this here, mem, in this little paper, is some adgink
-for ter trim ther things. An’ us is werry pertic’ler ’bout its bein’
-a-Saturdy, mem, as Sundy gits ter be a-lonesum with nothink ter do.
-Hain’t Sundy a-lonesum, Nib?”
-
-“You bet!” affirmed Nib.
-
-All the cherubs, haloed with the pretty hair and crowned with the
-flowery hats, and Miss Chatty, too, would, doubtless, have been very
-much shocked had Nib’s voice not been like a little flute, and the
-eyes she lifted, like two great big violets, and the teeth she showed,
-beautifully white. But when lips and lids closed again, she was as
-homely as the other; and then everybody _was_ shocked at what they had
-heard, the cherubs looking at each other, and the Doll Doctor’s face
-becoming much suffused as she received the young rag-pickers’ spoils.
-But she could not send them away. She shuddered at the old calico.
-Still she respectfully took it.
-
-“Us want’s ’em as tall as this, jest about,” continued Meg, showing
-Miss Chatty a strip of paper. “Us thinks that’s the purtiest size for a
-doll.”
-
-Miss Chatty was scarce able to speak even now; for the audacity, the
-simplicity, and the perfect good faith of the rag-baby “order” was
-as paralyzing as it was funny. She was a dear, honest Christian, but
-she couldn’t think quite what to do with her new customers much more
-readily than would Sexton Brown had Nib and Meg gone into Grace Church
-on Sunday. It was well for Sexton Brown that Nib and Meg had never
-heard that God the Father was preached at Grace Church, or they might
-have gone in.
-
-Meg, at last, seemed struck by the silence of the Doll Doctor. “Mem,”
-said she, hastily, “don’t you go fer ter be afeard us won’t pay. Us has
-got ther money saved up--hain’t us, Nib?”
-
-“I’m not afraid, not at all,” said Miss Chatty. “And they will be done
-on Friday. Come for them on that day. I am always extremely busy on
-Saturday.”
-
-At that Meg looked much pleased. “Mem, ’f you do do us a nice job, an’
-so prompt-like, ther’s lots of girls us knows as’ll get you ter fix
-ther dolls. Us girls thet sells things hain’t got no time fer nothink,
-and us couldn’t go fer ter sew and cut out if us had!”
-
-Evidently not. Nib and Meg, under the shawls, were picturesque with
-tatters.
-
-“Us wants our dolls tidy and lovesome, mem,” she added, caressingly
-touching the white cotton in Miss Chatty’s hand, and feasting her
-eyes upon its whiteness perceptibly. Miss Chatty saw it; and she saw
-something else at the same moment,--direful gaps and rents about the
-childish waist betraying that there was sad lack of “whiteness” for
-little Meg’s own wear,--poor Meg! that wanted her dolly “tidy and
-lovesome,” feasting upon the one shred of wholesome white cloth,--Miss
-Chatty knew the little girl’s soul to be clean by that token; and if
-she had halted in her treatment before, she took the little ones right
-into her heart now, which was a much lovelier place than her parlor.
-
-“Don’t you think, mem, as ther’s likely to be adgink for all ther
-underclothes, cos us’d get more ef ther wasn’t.”
-
-[Illustration]
-
-Miss Chatty was sure there would be plenty; and Nib and Meg went down
-the steps and away, at their leisure. “My! wasn’t them thar swell
-girls!” said little Nib, all aloud. “But I didn’t care; did you, Meg?
-An’ I seed derlicious dolls in ther,--I’ll bet ourn’ll have flouncers,
-or sumthink.”
-
-Miss Chatty, hearing, resolved there should, at least, be “sumthink.”
-
-Her little ladies all were looking at her as she re-entered the
-drawing-room. They were ready to burst forth into a breeze of fun
-and ridicule, or to be very sorry,--just which way their dear Doll
-Doctor gave the cue. She laid the bundle on the shelf, the pink calico
-by itself in a bit of paper, and wrote down the order. “Poor little
-waifs,” she sighed. “Think of it, children, how hard they try to be
-like other folks, and how much they seem to wish for something to love!”
-
-There was a little hush, until Teresa Drew spoke. “I never thought of
-it, but I wonder what street-children do do for dolls!”
-
-“Madame ought not to have to touch objects from the barrel of the
-ashes; it is very mooch disgoosted,” said Teresa’s French maid. She
-stooped and whispered to her little mistress. The child directly took
-out her purse, and laid a shining half eagle on the table by Miss
-Chatty’s hand.
-
-“Please buy them both a nice, well-dressed doll, with plenty of
-’adgink’ on the clothes. Who would think they could care for lace! We
-must tell mamma that, Hortense.”
-
-Miss Chatty kissed her kind little customer. All her little ladies were
-pleased if she shook hands when they came, and very happy indeed if
-she twined a curl over her finger, or re-tied a sash,--for she had the
-dearest and daintiest of mother-ways. “My dear,” she said, “I think
-the little girls would feel tenderest toward the very dollies they
-have worked so hard to get. But I should like to buy clothing for the
-children themselves with your gold piece.”
-
-The idea roused a creditable little _furore_ of benevolence among the
-children. Every tiny pocket-book came open, and although there was no
-more gold, Miss Chatty soon became the treasurer of a respectable fund
-for the benefit of Meg and Nib, whom several now remembered to have
-seen as rag-pickers and match-girls.
-
-Indeed, there was so much generous talk about Meg and Nib that when
-Miss Chatty went to bed she dreamed a very long and very nice dream.
-
-In this dream all the pavements in the city were fringed with
-toadstools, and the stems were little girls, each with a doll in her
-arms, and they were all on their way to her house to be mended. When
-all had arrived, a tall, white angel came, and stood in the door and
-looked in. And she said, “Behold, I am she that weepeth over the woes
-of children. I sit upon a cloud over this city. To-night, on the
-evening air, I listened for the noise of crying and quarreling, and,
-instead, I heard laughter, and playing, and lullabies. The thanks of
-one that weeps are sweeter than all others. Take my blessing, O giver
-of dolls, because you have learned that a little girl, to be good, must
-have something to love.”
-
-Then the children sang “bye-low-baby-bye” in soft tones; and after
-they were through singing, they sat and nodded deliciously,--children,
-dolls, and she, too; and all this while the Angel of the Children’s
-Woes sat in their midst on a canopied coach that had a coachman, and a
-footman, and a French maid, and rested from her tearful labors--indeed
-her eyes grew every moment of a most bright and smiling azure; and
-while she was resting, on a loom of silver she wove edging until there
-was a great plenty to have trimmed all the dolls in the world.
-
-It was quite a pleasant dream, in fact; and Miss Chatty woke with her
-heart all soft, and young, and warm, and it staid so all day Sunday.
-
-After breakfast, Monday morning, she put on her holland gloves and went
-out to dig around her roses. She desired the circle of dark loam about
-her trees to be exactly and truly round. So she found it necessary to
-do her own digging.
-
-As she set her foot on the spade, a little voice she knew called from
-the bottom of the garden. “Please, Miss Chatty, were there a great many
-nice dolls brought Saturday?”
-
-And another little voice continued, “May we go and see them?”
-
-It was Sylvey Morgan and Teddy. They were looking over the broken
-paling of the garden fence, their little faces twinkling with smiles
-and sunshine.
-
-“Yes, birdies. You may go up through the basement, and I will step over
-and see Mintie.”
-
-The children flew to the gate and up to the house, for you must know
-that it was very nice, indeed, to go up to Miss Chatty’s parlors and
-look at the beautiful dolls all by themselves. They well knew they
-“mustn’t touch;” and Miss Chatty was well assured they wouldn’t.
-
-She picked some clove pinks and went over to the house of the children.
-It was a small cottage in vines fronting a back street. She went around
-to the sitting-room, where, by the window, sat a young girl with a
-poor little pinched-up face. A cane, gayly painted, and adorned with
-a flowing ribbon bow, leaned against the window, and told the girl’s
-story.
-
-The room was very plain only about this corner. This nook had a bird
-cage and a hanging basket of ivy in the window; Mintie’s chair, with
-its gay cushion, stood on a Persian mat; there was a little window
-garden growing on the ledge; and on the elbow stand was a globe with
-gold fish, while opposite hung some pretty water colors. Mintie’s hair
-was tied back with a rose-pink bow, and her wrapper was a marvelous web
-of roses and posies. Altogether the endeavor to surround poor Mintie
-Morgan with brightness and beauty was very evident.
-
-But Mintie herself looked peevish, and as if never anything in the
-world had been done for her. It was plain she was no nice, ideal
-invalid, but a girl whom to take care of would be a great trial.
-
-She did smile, however, as she took Miss Chatty’s clove pinks. “You
-always bring enough, and plenty of grass and leaves, so that there is a
-chance to try a bouquet. I believe you do it that I may fuss with them
-half the forenoon if I like.”
-
-Miss Chatty colored a trifle at being detected. “Well, that is nothing
-against me, I hope, Mintie. How do you feel to-day?”
-
-“O, good-for-nothing, and all tired out just to think it is Monday
-morning instead of Saturday night.”
-
-“I do wish you had something pleasant to occupy yourself with,” said
-Miss Chatty, sympathetically, instead of whipping out the little sermon
-on contentment. She had always thought she wouldn’t thank anybody to
-preach contentment to her, had she been broken-backed and with no feet
-to speak of, like Mintie.
-
-“Isn’t there anything you can do?”
-
-“Of course there isn’t,” said Mintie. “I want something pretty if I
-have anything, work which will make me forget I am in this chair. I
-won’t sew the children’s clothes. Father and mother should contrive
-that I was amused. And if you felt so very bad for me, Miss Chatty, I
-guess you would have offered to let me dress some of them dolls before
-now!”
-
-“So I might, I should think myself,” said Miss Chatty, startled into
-saying a very unwise thing; for, of course, a ten-dollar doll wasn’t to
-be put in careless fingers.
-
-“But, of course,” continued Mintie, fretfully, “you don’t have more
-than you can do yourself.”
-
-“No,” said Miss Chatty, much relieved, “I don’t. But, poor little
-Mintie, you ought to have something nice to do!”
-
-“Well, you need all the money, and I shouldn’t like to work, even at
-anything pretty, unless I was paid. I don’t wish to talk about work at
-all unless that is understood. You needn’t ever bring anything here to
-do just to amuse me.” And Mintie looked,--only think of a young girl
-looking as ugly as pictures of misers that you have seen!
-
-As for Miss Chatty, she blushed clear up to her eyes. “My dear child!”
-she exclaimed. “How could you think I should be unjust!”
-
-And then she went and stood in the door. The dear little old maid was
-dreadfully ashamed, and a trifle indignant, too, over Mintie’s bad
-manners and selfishness. But after a moment she reflected that probably
-the poor girl had no pocket-money at all, and couldn’t get any either;
-and she recollected also that it had been said that physical deformity
-often produced spiritual crookedness and halting. She tried to think of
-some way to help her. She thought of offering Nib’s and Meg’s dolls to
-make and clothe; but no, Mintie wished to handle only beautiful things.
-
-All at once her dream came up before her, as pleasant as in her sleep,
-and it seemed to turn inside out and reveal its meaning.
-
-She went back and kissed Mintie. Then she went home and kissed Sylvey
-and Teddy and sent them away. After that she made herself ready, and
-went upon another eccentric little journey among her wealthy friends.
-
-It is said that Miss Chatty talked a deal of beautiful and flowery
-nonsense at every house where she called, all about the influence upon
-poor children of a flower to watch, or a bird to tend, or a lovely doll
-to love. She told everybody that she was going to send a missionary in
-the shape of a pretty doll to every ragged and dirty child in the city.
-
-They laughed at the idea of the doll-mission; but as she begged at
-most places for nothing more than “pieces,”--bits of silk and bright
-woolens, remnants of ribbons and laces, the natural leavings of
-dressmaking, of which there is always plenty at every house,--Miss
-Chatty did not render herself very obnoxious.
-
-But at three or four houses there was far more weighty talk; and from
-them Miss Chatty took away considerable money. Then she went down upon
-Vesey Street, and one of her friends among the merchants gave her a
-roll of bleached muslin, and the same good man also gave her a card of
-edging in the name of his little daughter. She then went down farther
-still, to Bleecker Street, where a jolly young importer of cheap toys
-sold her a gross of china dolls at cost.
-
-Tuesday, all day, she cut patterns of skirts, and polonaises, and
-basques, and fichus, and walking jackets, all as fanciful as possible,
-bearing in mind the temper of her seamstress.
-
-On Wednesday she went over to Mintie, carrying the bundles and her own
-walnut cutting board.
-
-And when Mintie had looked at the great army of curly-pated dolls,
-with their naked little kid bodies, every one of them wearing the same
-rosy smile, and had laid all the lustrous silky velvets to her cheek,
-and had sheened the silks over her knee, and had delighted with the
-laces and the iris ribbons, she did smile, the first sunny smile of
-her blighted life, I do believe; and she said she should be very, very
-happy, and that she should dress no two dolls alike; and she never
-mentioned her wages at all.
-
-But after Miss Chatty had unfolded her plan, and told her how well
-she was to be paid, Mintie became cross again. She said after the
-dolls were done it was a shame for ragged children to have them, and
-they would have to be taken from her house to be distributed, for she
-couldn’t, and wouldn’t, bear the sight of such creatures!
-
-But in what manner the Doll Mission was organized, and how the lovely
-missionaries did their work, and whether the Angel really stopped
-weeping, will make another long story; and it will be still more
-beautiful than this and the other.
-
-[Illustration]
-
-
-
-
-THE LITTLE PARSNIP-MAN.
-
-BY E. F.
-
-
-[Illustration]
-
-One year Mrs. Dumpling was ill all the summer, and there was nobody
-much to tend the kitchen garden, except Dimple.
-
-Dimple was extremely sturdy, but being shorter than the spade, he could
-not use the spade at all; and he was so very much shorter than a hoe,
-that the hoe kicked, and generally hit Dimple on the nose; and before
-summer was out he was so much shorter than the weeds, that when he
-went to pull them, the weeds felt quite at liberty to turn about and
-pull him; they’d hang back and pull, and pull, until they got Dimple
-all excited and puffing, and then they’d suddenly let go his little
-hands, and down would go Dimple on the ground, over on his back, pulled
-right off his little roots,--his little feet, I mean,--while the weeds
-would just swing, and nod, and shake with laughter, and then they would
-grow--oh, _how_ they would grow! A little rough pulling at one, if you
-don’t get pulled clear off your feet and out of your place, is so very
-good for anybody.
-
-Dimple finally gave up the weeds, and tended the vegetables only. He
-cultivated them with a stick, scratching along the roots, and making
-the soil black and loose. One day he sat under a shady row of tall
-mustard-weeds, and scratched along a line of some feathery green stuff
-his mamma had sowed. He sat poking the dirt, and thinking what a pretty
-green plants turned as the dirt was stirred, when suddenly, poking away
-a big stone, he saw something white, and round, and wrinkled, just like
-a head,--an old man’s bald head!
-
-“Why,” said Dimple, “who’s here?”
-
-He dug a little, and he came to some sleepy old eyes, all shut, and
-wrinkled, and peevish.
-
-“Why-ee!” said Dimple. “It _is_ somebody!”
-
-He dug and dug, and he came to a nose,--an awful big nose.
-
-“Why-ee!” said Dimple. “It’s a Roman nose. I fink it is a grandpa.”
-
-He dug a little mite more, and there were some moustaches growing right
-out of the big nose. He pulled and pulled with his two forefingers, and
-loosened them up, and all at once they flopped out of the dirt; and
-they were two long waxed moustaches.
-
-Dimple was so surprised he said nothing this time, but dug away, almost
-scared. Pretty soon he found a mouth, a large funny mouth, close up
-under the nose, and the mouth was dreadful live and quirky.
-
-“Why-ee-ee!” said Dimple. “I fink it _is_ somebody, and he’s waking up!”
-
-For now the eyes did seem to twinkle, and the little bare skull to wink
-and move its wrinkles up and down.
-
-Dimple dug away again, and found a chin and some straggling beard.
-
-“I fink what it is now,” said Dimple. “Mamma readed about him yes’day.
-He lives down in the mines. He’s a Kobold, and he wants to get out.”
-
-It was so bad to be stuck fast in the dirt, Dimple dug now just as hard
-as he could. The little old man himself didn’t help at all to loosen up
-his two long, slim legs. Finally Dimple, with a mighty effort, and by
-shutting both eyes hard, pulled them out, and he tumbled over on his
-back, and the little old man tumbled over on _his_ back, and lay like
-one dead.
-
-Then Dimple saw he had no arms. “Dee-me!” said he. “I be’eve he started
-to bring up some gold, and the other Kobolds ran after him and cut off
-his arms. Dee-me! I fink what if he has got up so far and beed-ed to
-deff!”
-
-Dimple scampered in, and his face was so white, and his story so wild,
-that Mrs. Dumpling managed to walk up into the garden.
-
-Dimple took her to the place; the little old man was there, sure
-enough. Mrs. Dumpling saw him herself, in a glimmering dazed kind of
-way, for just one moment,--his twinkling eyes, his bald skull, his
-Roman nose, his long moustaches, and his straggling beard.
-
-Then she sat down on the grass and laughed.
-
-She picked him up; and the moment she touched him there was an awful
-transformation. Even Dimple saw it was only a parsnip,--a pronged,
-ill-shaped, tough old parsnip.
-
-But that night something happened which Dimple never forgot. The old
-Parsnip-Man came to his bed and spoke to him. But I regret to say that
-he used many large words which Dimple could not understand.
-
-“Kind sir,” said he, “naturally we are a fine and shapely race,--we,
-and our cousins the Beets and the Carrots and the Salsify. If we
-are brought up, as every new generation ought to be, with tender
-surroundings, and kept out of the company of stones and clods and
-weeds, we have a dear promise that many of us shall be placed on the
-dinner-table when children eat, and be changed into rosy cheeks, and
-white arms, and handsome young bodies, and live a long, merry life
-above ground in the sunshine. But if we are neglected by those upon
-whom we are dependent, we are changed underground, and become horrid
-old fellows, with ugly faces; and when we are pulled up, we are carted
-away and fed to cattle.
-
-“_Do you know what it must be to be fed to cattle?_” he roared.
-
-And then, after a moment, he smiled mournfully. “A word to the wise,”
-he said. The low, pleading tone floated all about Dimple like a
-cool, green leaf. When he looked up to ask what the “Word” was, the
-Parsnip-Man had disappeared.
-
-Dimple told his mamma in the morning. Mamma knew the “Word” very well.
-She said it was too bad, and she would have the parsnip-bed hoed that
-very day.
-
-
-
-
-HOW DORR FOUGHT.
-
-BY SALOME.
-
-
-Little Dorr Eastman always wore his sword--in the daytime, I mean. He
-would have liked to wear it at night--indeed, he tried it once; but
-as the belt was indispensable, and that was exceedingly rasping and
-uncomfortable with a night-gown, and as he often rolled upon the sword
-itself, and the sword, being hard, hurt his soft, plump side, and his
-soft, plump limbs, he gave it up, regretfully, since it was Dorr’s
-belief that “real truly” soldiers always slept with their “arms” on.
-And Dorr “knew”--for was not his brother Dick a colonel, and his father
-a general, and his grandfather a general?
-
-But, then, they had been at West Point, and got toughened. After he
-grew up and had been at West Point, and had undergone discipline,
-doubtless a belt would not be uncomfortable in bed, and a sword could
-be worn with a night-gown!
-
-The fancy-store in the village where Dorr’s papa owned a summer
-mansion, drove a flourishing trade during the season in gilt papers,
-and mill-boards, and tinsels; for, once a week, at least, the young
-soldier fashioned new stripes and epaulets; one day being a sergeant,
-on the next a major; and then, for days together, commander-in-chief
-U. S. A., during which space mamma, and Trudie, and Soph addressed him
-as His Excellency. Every stick which he could hew into the shape of
-a horse’s head, became a gallant charger, until mamma’s hall was one
-long, vast stable; mamma blew a whistle for _reveillé_; and the embryo
-cadet thought nothing of turning out at five in the morning, and
-splashing into a cold tub, especially on picnic mornings. But Dorr said
-he was hardening for West Point and glorious campaigns.
-
-[Illustration: “HOLD YOUR HAND, NOW.”]
-
-His greatest anxiety was concerning these campaigns. “Mamma,” he said
-to her one day, “I fears there’s no use in me growing up!”
-
-“Why, Your Excellency? It grieves me to hear that,” said mamma.
-
-“’Cause everybody will be fighted out before that, mamma. Colonel Dick
-says they settle things now, and not fight.”
-
-“Well, my little son, there will always be men who must wear swords,
-to make people afraid, so that they will think it is the safer way to
-settle without a war. My little Dorr shall be one of those men, and
-a great share of the time he will be home on furlough and stay with
-mamma. Won’t he like that?”
-
-“No, he wouldn’t!” cried Dorr, stoutly, swelling up after the manner of
-colonels and generals. After a turn or two across the room, he came
-back to his mamma’s knee. “It’s likely, though, there’ll be Injuns.
-There always was Injuns in this land, Trudie says, and if they’s lasted
-s’long, it’s likely they’ll last s’long as I live; and Dick says
-there’ll be always war s’long as there’s Injuns!”
-
-“O! my little blue-eyed Dorr,” said mamma, “wouldn’t you care to be
-scalped?”
-
-“Why’d I care?” answered Dorr. “Wouldn’t my ‘feet be to the foe’?”
-
-Mamma could not but laugh at her stern little man; and then she thought
-he had better go with the girls in the garden.
-
-And there he was not a moment too soon. The sacred inclosure was
-already invaded by a ruthless hand--a fat, yellowish-black little hand,
-which was thrust through the paling, evidently after one of Soph’s
-treasures--the beautiful rose-pink dwarf dahlia.
-
-Dorr saw it. “Soph! Soph! he’s breaking off your new Mex’can Lilliput
-dahlia!” and headlong went Sergeant Dorr toward the fence; but, half
-way there, he tripped in the tall asters, and crushed dozens of mamma’s
-choice autumn blooms as he fell.
-
-Soph and Trudie both came running down the gravel. The boy behind the
-paling also ran, or would, had not the fat arm been thrust in too far;
-for, turning it in haste, it stuck fast, and now held him Sergeant
-Dorr’s prisoner.
-
-His fall had made Sergeant Dorr very mad; and, picking himself up, he
-drove toward the paling in hot haste. “You flower-thief! them’s Soph’s
-flowers! You clear out of this, or I’ll shoot you with my sword!”
-
-And the sword was brandished; and as Roly-poly couldn’t “clear out,”
-much as he wished, he staid, his hand still clasping the stalk of the
-“Mex’can Lilliput,” which he seemed unable to let go. Seeing that, down
-came Dorr’s wooden sword upon the arm! It was a sturdy stroke, too, so
-sturdy that the sword bounded and flew over on the other side, where an
-angry little bare black foot kicked it far out into the road, while the
-owner of the foot howled with pain.
-
-“Dorr Eastman!” cried Trudie.
-
-“You cruel, cruel boy!” cried Soph.
-
-“He no bus’ness with your flowers, then!” said Dorr, crowding back an
-angry whimper.
-
-“I’ve a mind to shake you!” said Trudie. But, instead, she went to the
-fence where the little bow-legged mulatto, still howling, was trying to
-get free.
-
-“Little boy,” said she, “I’m sorry; but it is wrong to steal!”
-
-“But we done got no flowers of our own,” said he; “and besides, I
-hain’t broke it. O, dear, where’s mammy? I hain’t gooine to stay
-hyer--don’t! don’t!” He howled louder than ever as Trudie took his arm.
-
-“Hush up, simpleton! I’m only going to get you out.” With a firm grasp
-she turned his arm where he might draw it back. “There, I’ll let you
-out now, if you will stand still a moment after I let go.”
-
-The boy sobbed mightily, but stood still. “Stand there till I tell you
-to go,” commanded Trudie. Then she broke one of her own flowers for
-him, and also went into her pocket. “Hold your hand, now,” said she.
-
-Sobbing, and with hidden face, the small ragamuffin held up his hand,
-and Trudie poured into it a stream of pennies and candies. “The
-flower,” said she, “is because you like pretty things. The rest is to
-pay you for being struck.”
-
-The tawny little hand dashed the “pay” to the ground. “I can’t be paid
-for being struck!” he cried, baring his tearful eyes, and gleaming with
-them at the “sergeant.”
-
-“What’s all this?” asked mamma, coming down the walk.
-
-Hearing the story, she went outside, and bared the beaten arm. There
-was a frightful lump on the soft, black baby flesh. She looked up at
-her little soldier ruefully, and he ran off.
-
-She took the child in, and bathed the bruise with camphor, picked him
-a gorgeous bouquet, and sent him home with various admonitions and
-tendernesses. Then she waited for Dorr to come.
-
-By and by he came. He was still without his sword. He rushed to her, as
-she turned at the sound of the little footstep, and tumbled into her
-arms head first.
-
-“Mamma,” he said, “I have martial-courted myself! I runned after him,
-but he wouldn’t strike me. Then I thought what you said ’bout ‘kisses
-for blows,’ but he wouldn’t kiss me; but I know’d there should be a
-kiss somewheres, ’cause ’twas your kind of a battle, not papa’s; so I
-gave him my sword, and asked him to come to play--and--well, mamma, I
-haven’t got any sword no more!”
-
-The little heart heaved; but mamma hugged him close, and shed a glad
-tear to think her teaching had had its effect as well as papa’s.
-
-[Illustration: HE TUMBLED INTO HER ARMS HEAD FIRST.]
-
-“My kind of battles are very hard, much harder to be fought than
-papa’s,” she said, “and Dorr is braver than if he had killed a hundred
-men.”
-
-[Illustration: ALL THE WAY TO CANADA.]
-
-
-
-
-[Illustration]
-
-TIM’S PARTNER.
-
-BY AMANDA M. DOUGLAS.
-
-
-“Ain’t got nothin’, Miss May, to set up a chap in housekeepin’--have
-you?”
-
-“Housekeeping!” the young lady cried in surprise. “Why, surely, Tim,
-you are not thinking of--” and she paused, suddenly eying the figure
-before her from head to foot.
-
-A strange, misshapen creature it was. He was barely eighteen, but
-he might have been twice that from the looks of his face, which was
-thin and sharp, and wrinkled about the eyes and forehead, surmounted
-by a shock of sandy brown hair, and thatched with an old gray felt
-hat going to tatters. A short, humpbacked figure, with a body out of
-all proportion to the pinched, slender legs. The arms were long, and
-finished by hands twice too large. A poor, pitiful object; yet there
-was something wistful and touching in the great brown eyes.
-
-“Of gettin’ married? Was you goin’ to say that, Miss May? He! he! A
-gal would want a husband mighty bad, wouldn’t she, when she picked up
-such a crooked stick? The good Lord knows why he made me this way, I
-s’pose,” falling for a moment into a reflective mood. “But ’tain’t
-that, Miss May. I’ve got a room of old Mother Budd, and a stove, and
-a mattress, and now I’ve taken a pardner--Jerry; but you don’t know
-nothin’ ’bout him. He’s a little chap what’s had a drunken father all
-his life, and has to get about on two crutches--worse’n me, a good
-sight,” looking down with pride on his thin legs and substantial feet.
-“And now his father’s sent up to the Island, ’nd he had no place to go
-to. So we’ve set up together. He’s smart in some ways, is Jerry--kin
-sew like a gal, and cook, and we’ll get along just jolly. Only if we
-had some dishes and things. You see we have to pay a dollar a week in
-advance, for old Mother Budd’s sharp at a bargain, lookin’ out for
-tricks. Then I bought some coal an’ wood, an’ that took about all my
-spare capital.” He gave a sort of humorous grin, as he said “capital.”
-
-He had shoveled off the snow and cleaned out the gutter to perfection.
-Miss May had paid him thirty cents. After a moment she said,--
-
-“Come down in the basement, Tim. I should not wonder if we could find
-you an outfit. Two boys housekeeping! It’s rather funny!”
-
-Tim scraped and wiped his feet, stood his shovel in the corner of the
-area, and followed the young lady within. All winter he had been on
-hand to clean the sidewalk and put in coal. Besides his wages she had
-given him a few old garments, and his gratitude had touched her. Now
-she felt rather amused.
-
-Bridget gave him a somewhat unfriendly stare as he entered the
-kitchen. She never could understand why a lady like Miss May should
-take fancies “to beggars and that sort of trash.” Dr. May looked rather
-serious about it, and wished her mother had lived, or that aunt Helen
-knew how to interest her in other people. He saw quite enough of the
-misery and wretchedness of the world without having his pretty young
-daughter breaking her heart over it.
-
-“Come and warm yourself, Tim. Bridget, where are those cracked and
-checked dishes and old tins I picked out the other day? And there are
-some chairs down cellar. O, and those old comfortables I laid away.”
-
-“Sure, miss, I was goin’ to ask you if I mightn’t give the dishes to my
-cousin, Ann Flynn, who is to be married on Sunday night. They’d be a
-godsend to her.”
-
-“We’ll divide them;” and Miss May smiled.
-
-Bridget very unwillingly opened the closet door. The idea of giving
-china dishes to a beggar! She grudged everything that could go to a
-“cousin.”
-
-Miss May picked out two cups and saucers, four plates, two bowls, and
-several miscellaneous articles, including a block-tin tea-pot and two
-or three dilapidated tin pails.
-
-“O, Miss May! Why, we’ll feel as grand as kings!” and the eyes were
-lustrous with gratitude.
-
-“Here’s a basket to pack them in. Bridget, give him a little tea and
-sugar, and some of the cold meat left yesterday. I’ll run up stairs and
-find some bed-clothes.”
-
-She came back laden. Tim’s face glowed to its utmost capacity, which
-was large, seeing that he had been out in the cold all the morning.
-
-“There, I haven’t any table, but all these will help. You are sure your
-partner, as you call him, is a trusty fellow?”
-
-“He’s good as gold, though he hain’t no legs worth speakin’ of. He used
-to sell papers on the cars, but he stumbled one day, ’nd had one cut
-off, and t’other hurt. His father used to keep him round beggin’, but
-he’s bound to have nice times now along o’ me. If you could hear him
-sing, Miss May--it’s like a bird hangin’ out a winder. When the weather
-comes warm he kin sell apples and flowers, and sich. I’ll have a little
-spare capital bimeby to start him with. An’ it’ll be next to havin’
-folks of one’s very own. I never had any, you see. Not that I’d want a
-father like Jerry’s. Poor little chap, he’s had rough times, what with
-the beatin’ and the starvin’.”
-
-Miss May winked a tear out of her blue eyes. How ready these street
-Arabs were to stand by one another! Would anybody in her “set” take in
-a poor brother unhesitatingly?
-
-Tim was grateful from the very depths of his soul, and it was no mean
-one. He bundled the articles in a great pack, and shouldered them,
-chairs and all, and drew his rough sleeve across his eyes, while his
-good-bye had a very husky sound.
-
-If Miss May could have heard the rejoicing!
-
-And yet it was a miserable little room, up three flights of stairs,
-with only one window looking into a rear house. Their bedstead had been
-made of dry goods boxes, and when they covered it with her clean chintz
-comfortable, and arrayed their closet shelves with the dishes, leaving
-the door open so they could feast their eyes on their new possessions,
-they could not resist giving three cheers; and Tim was actually coaxed
-into dancing a breakdown, while Jerry clapped “Finnegan’s Wake” with
-his thin hands on the one good knee he had left. It was a blustering
-March day, but they two had a delightfully warm room and a feast. What
-amused them most of all was beautiful Miss May’s idea that Tim was
-going to be married.
-
-“Tim,” said Jerry solemnly, when their laugh had ended, “I don’t know
-how girls feel about such poor cripples as you and me, but my opinion
-is that my mammy would have been glad enough to had a husband with the
-great, tender heart you’ve got. Poor mammy! I’m glad she’s in heaven
-along of the angels, and I’m glad she don’t know about my legs. God
-wouldn’t tell her when she was so happy--would He, Tim?”
-
-“No, He wouldn’t,” said Tim over a great lump in his throat.
-
-There never were such happy days in the life of either as those that
-followed. Jerry cooked, kept accounts, washed, ironed, and mended,
-and as the days grew warmer began to do quite a thriving business in
-button-hole bouquets, standing on the corner as the men went up town.
-Now and then he sold popular photographs on commission, or a lot of
-choice bananas.
-
-Tim was brisk and active, and caught up all manner of odd jobs. Now and
-then he saw Miss May. Once he sent Jerry with a bouquet of flowers.
-
-“I wanted you to see him, Miss May,” he said afterward, hanging around
-until he caught sight of her. “He don’t look pale and peaked, as he did
-when we first set up. It’s good livin’, you see, and no beatin’s. And
-we have just the jolliest times you ever heard of. He don’t want me to
-call him anything but pardner. I do believe that ere little chap would
-give his life for me.”
-
-“O, Tim, how good you are!” she cried. “You shame richer and wiser
-people. It is very noble to take that poor little boy by the hand and
-love and protect him.”
-
-“Noble!” echoed Tim, pulling his forelock and coloring through the tan
-and grime. “Why, Miss May, he’s a sight of help and comfort to me;
-better’n any wife would be, ’cause, you see, no woman who’d take me
-ever’d be half so good.”
-
-“Tim,” she said, opening her dainty Russia leather pocket-book, “I want
-to add a little mite to your happiness. I am going to the country soon,
-for the whole summer. I want you to take this, and spend it just as I
-tell you. You and Jerry must go on some nice excursion; there will be
-plenty of them presently. Get a good dinner, and take all the delight
-you can, and remember to tell me all about it afterward.”
-
-“O, Miss May, you are too good for anybody’s folks! Indeed, I’ll tell
-you every word. And can I come again next winter to shovel snow and do
-chores?”
-
-“Yes, indeed. I shall be glad to have you. God bless you and your
-partner, poor, brave little soul. I shall think of you often.”
-
-“I never see an angel ’xcept the ones in the picters with wings, but I
-know Miss May is one,” said Tim to himself.
-
-Tim and his partner counted their money that night. Business had been
-flourishing of late.
-
-“There’s twenty-one dollars that we’ve saved up free and clear, and the
-lady’s five. Tim, you had better put it in the bank;” and Jerry’s eyes
-sparkled feverishly.
-
-“I’d have to hide the bank book then;” and Tim chuckled. “Think of
-havin’ a bank account! Why, we’d feel a’most like Astor, or the old
-Commodore.”
-
-“But I wish you would, Tim. I’m afraid to have so much in the house.
-It will be something against winter when business is dull. Now we’re
-making plenty to live on. Won’t you, Tim?”
-
-“To be sure I will--to-morrow. And we’ll hide the book in that same
-chink in the floor. No one would think of looking there. And we’ll have
-a rousin’ time on some ’xcursion. We’ll choose one with a brass band,
-and have a little dance in one corner by ourselves. There isn’t the
-beat of Miss May in this whole world.”
-
-“She’s good, but then she’s rich, you know. Five dollars doesn’t look
-so large to her as it does to you and me. But, Tim, I love you better
-than a hundred Miss Mays.”
-
-Tim chuckled and winked hard, but said never a word.
-
-He was off early in the morning, as he had an important job on hand.
-Jerry would have dinner all ready at noon, and he would put on his
-“store clothes” and go down to the bank like any other swell. My eyes!
-Weren’t they in clover?
-
-Tim could not get home until three; but he had earned two dollars since
-morning. They each had a key to the door, and finding it locked, Tim
-drew out his. Jerry had gone to business; afternoons were his time.
-There was no dinner set out on the table and covered with a napkin. A
-curious chill of something like neglect went to Tim’s warm heart; but
-he whistled it away, found a bite of cold meat and some oatmeal. Then
-he decided he would run over on Broadway and tell Jerry of his good
-luck. It was too late to think of going to the bank.
-
-No little chap sat on the well-known corner. Tim walked up a block,
-down again, and studied the cross street sharply. Had he sold out and
-gone home? Or may be he had taken the money to the bank! Tim ran home
-again. Yes, that was it. The money was gone.
-
-He waited and waited. Somehow he did not feel a bit jolly; but he
-boiled the kettle and laid the supper. No Jerry yet. What had become of
-him? Had he put on his best suit?
-
-They had made a clothes-press out of a dry goods box, and Tim went to
-inspect it. Why--Jerry’s shelf was entirely empty. Shirts, stockings,
-yes, everything, even to his old every-day suit, gone. Tim dropped on
-the floor, and hid his face in his hands. Had Jerry--
-
-It was funny, but Tim squared off and gave the box a thump that bruised
-his knuckles. It seemed to him that the box had breathed a suspicion
-that Jerry had stolen the money and run away. Then he kicked it, and
-sat down and cried as if his heart would break. His pardner, little
-Jerry, a thief! No, he would never, never believe it.
-
-He sat up till midnight, and it seemed to him there had never been such
-loneliness since the world began. Then the next morning he made some
-inquiries. Their two nearest neighbors were washerwomen. Both had been
-out all day. No one had seen Jerry.
-
-If Jerry’s father were not in prison--but he had been sent up in
-February for a year, and here it was only the last of June. Or if there
-had been any evil companions hanging around; but Jerry and every scrap
-of his belongings, as well as the money, had surely disappeared.
-
-There was no gay excursion for Tim. He brooded over his desertion, and
-grew morose, began to save his money again, and shut himself up like
-a hermit. The poor, crippled boy that he had taken to his heart, that
-he had warmed and fed! Ah! it was very bitter. Perhaps not even his
-beautiful Miss May would care to remember him.
-
-So he did not go near her. Autumn came on apace. One dreary November
-day, when he could find nothing to do, he turned homeward, weary and
-heart-sick. Ah, if there was only a cheery voice to welcome him!
-
-Some one stood by his door, a lady in dainty attire. Some one caught
-his arm, and cried,--
-
-“O, Tim, I’m so glad you have come! I have been waiting almost an hour.
-Tim, I’ve found little Jerry, and he is dying; but he asks for you
-constantly. Come right away. Don’t lose a moment.”
-
-“Jerry!” in a sort of dazed way, as if he but half understood. “Little
-Jerry--my pardner? O, Miss May--no, you can’t mean it--dying?”
-
-“Yes. Hurry, Tim. I’ve waited so long already!”
-
-They walked down the stairs, scudded through the streets to a horse
-car. It seemed to Tim as if they rode an hour. Then they alighted, and
-a short walk brought them to a decent looking tenement house. Up one
-flight of stairs, and the door opened.
-
-“Is it Tim?” asked a weak voice.
-
-Tim threw himself on his knees by the bedside, and kissed the sweet,
-wan face with the tenderness of a mother. For some minutes only sobs
-were heard.
-
-“You told him, Miss May?”
-
-“No, Jerry. We hurried so there was no chance. But I will tell him
-every word.”
-
-“O, Tim, you didn’t think I was a thief? It broke my heart to go. It
-was father. He got out some way, and had been watching us. He came that
-night when we were so happy counting our money, but he didn’t dare
-offer to take me away then. The next morning he walked in with a paper,
-which he said was a warrant for me, and that if I dared to say a word
-he’d send me to the Refuge. I picked up my things--I was so afraid of
-him--and then he wanted the money, and swore if I didn’t get it he’d
-murder me. I told him I wouldn’t; so he tied my hands and bound my
-mouth, lest I should scream, and then he hunted everywhere; and O, Tim,
-he found it! He took me right out of the city with him to a vile den,
-where they wanted to make a thief of me.”
-
-“O, Jerry, dear, don’t talk; it takes away all your strength. God knows
-I never could have a hard thought of you now;” and Tim broke down.
-
-“Just a little. I couldn’t get back to you. They watched me, and beat
-me until I was sore and stiff; and there I staid until only a fortnight
-ago, when one night I gave them the slip. I wanted to come back and
-tell you how it was, but the way was so far, and I was so tired, so
-tired! Then I fell down in the street, and a good woman picked me up
-and brought me in here, where it’s so nice and clean, Tim, and such a
-quiet place to die in! And then I don’t seem to remember much until
-yesterday, when Miss May came in, and this morning, when she brought
-her father. And then I wanted to see you, to tell you--Tim, if I could
-live and earn the money--you were so good to me--so good. Tim, if you
-could hold me in your arms again! Miss May said I would find mammy in
-heaven; that God cared for poor little boys. Does He, Tim? I like you
-to tell me. And will you come and let me be your pardner again? Is it
-very far? Kiss me, Tim. You know now I wasn’t a thief. Miss May sang
-something yesterday about opening the starry gates--”
-
-  “At the portals Jesus waits;
-    All the heavenly host, begin;
-  Open wide the starry gates,
-    Let the little traveller in,”
-
-sang the sweet voice over a tremulous sob.
-
-Closer clung the thin arms, and the cool cheek was pressed against
-Tim’s, hot with burning tears. The little hands that had kept their
-house tidy, and prepared the simple meals, lay limp and useless. The
-eyes could not see any more, but the lips smiled and murmured a few
-incoherent words, soft, sweet, and then an awesome silence. The little
-waif Jerry had gone over the river.
-
-“O, Miss May,” cried Tim, “they _will_ take him in--won’t they? For,
-you see, the poor little chap didn’t have a square chance in this
-world! He’s been kicked and cuffed about, and had to go on crutches,
-an’ been half starved many a time, but he wouldn’t lie nor steal for
-all that. He ought to be happy somewheres. O, Jerry! Jerry! I loved you
-so! And you was true to the last!”
-
-“They will take him in,” Miss May says, with solemn tenderness. And
-presently she unclasps the arms that are wound around Jerry’s neck,
-lays the poor hands straight, and leads Tim over by the window. He
-looks at her with dumb, questioning eyes, as if he would fain have her
-fathom the mystery that he knows so little about. She brushes away some
-tears; but O, what can she say to comfort him? For Jerry was all he had.
-
-Presently Tim comes back and kisses the cold lips and stares at the
-strange beauty overspreading the wan face.
-
-“O, Miss May,” he cries, “do you suppose I could ever earn enough to
-pay for his being buried in some country place, where there’d be a few
-flowers and a tree growing over him? I’d work all my life long. For
-he’d like it so. I can’t bear to think of having him carried away--”
-
-“No,” she says, with a shiver. “I will see about it, Tim.” Then she
-gives a few orders to the woman, and goes away, leaving Tim with his
-“pardner.”
-
-Dr. May shook his head at his daughter at first, and said it was folly;
-but two days after he had him buried in a pretty rural cemetery, with a
-white marble slab above his head containing two words--“Tim’s Partner.”
-And Tim, who takes care of the doctor’s horse now, and does odd chores,
-pauses occasionally and says to Miss May, “There never can be anybody
-quite like Jerry to me again. Over in the other country we’ll be
-pardners forever.”
-
-[Illustration]
-
-
-
-
-“UNTO BABES.”
-
-BY HELEN KENDRICK JOHNSON.
-
-
-“’Et, ittie oottie, I dettie ut ’en it det e ittie iter;” which, being
-interpreted, means, “Yes, little rooster, I’ll get up when it gets a
-little lighter.”
-
-The same was uttered by a pair of cherry lips, opening below a pair of
-laughing eyes, which were parted from the cherry lips by a cherry nose.
-The nose was cherry because it stuck out from the face so round and
-plump that the sun, which had been around painting cherries just this
-time of the year, threw a glance at it and said, “There’s another!” and
-gave it a good strong stroke with his brush. This little accident made
-the whole face look funny; for, like most people who do their work in a
-hurry, the sun had dipped up so much paint, and dashed it at the nose
-so carelessly, that it had hit ever so many other places--a spot on the
-chin, a daub on the cheeks, and a streak on the forehead.
-
-Now there is some excuse for the sun; for while everybody knows that
-boys never will stand still long enough to have their faces properly
-attended to, everybody, little and big, and not only that, but every
-tree and flower and blade of grass, keeps dancing and whirling about,
-while the sun is trying to fix it.
-
-The result is just what you would expect--apples with one red cheek and
-one white one, blackberries with three colors on the same stem, so that
-the boys can always quote the old riddle, “blackberries are red when
-they’re green,” and cherries that make half your pail-full, “not fit to
-eat,” according to your mother, and speckled little fellows, just like
-this one.
-
-On this particular morning there was great excitement in the towzley
-head that popped up to make the lucid remark above quoted. His big
-sister did not dream that little Wide Awake took it all literally when
-she said, “Don’t get up the first time the rooster crows.”
-
-She forgot that childhood’s sweetest trait is trust, and she was
-startled to remember it when she heard the precious little fellow’s
-sweet voice twitter out in the faint dawn:
-
-“Et, ittie ootie, I dettie ut ’en it det e ittie iter.”
-
-Long before the sun had fairly got his paints mixed for another dash at
-the fruit and the children, Strut crowed again.
-
-Was Wide Awake asleep? Asleep, indeed! Up went the head again, and this
-time two flying heels followed, and the bright voice sang again:
-
-“’E ootie c’ows, an’ _a’aw_ ’e do’s.”
-
-He meant to say:
-
-“The rooster crows, and away he goes,” meaning his little self.
-
-“Little brother, it isn’t time to get up for an hour. Hop into bed
-again,” called out Sister Laura.
-
-“’Ou ed e _’econ’_ tine,” said a sorrowful, drooping little voice.
-
-“Go to sleep--that’s a good boy!” was the answer, and Laura set the
-copy for him by going off instantly herself.
-
-But Wide Awake had not won his name without deserving it, and he passed
-a long and lonesome hour trying to amuse himself with nothing.
-
-Finally, dressing-time came. When he reached the kitchen, all was as
-busy as a coming picnic could make it. Dinah was flying from cellar to
-pantry, and from pantry to oven. As soon as he got to the back stairs
-door-way, Wide Awake spied something wrong high up on Dinah’s back.
-
-“Attieilly on ou olly,” he cried out.
-
-“Keep still, Allie; don’t boffer me screaming,” said Dinah.
-
-“_Attieilly on ou olly_,” said he, coming close to her, and pointing,
-and pulling her dress.
-
-“Go ’long, I tell you!” said she. “I’ll tell your sister, and you won’t
-get no cake.”
-
-Allie reluctantly stepped back a little; but he spoke volumes of
-anxiety, had any one been looking.
-
-No one was.
-
-“Oh! what’s dat on my neck?” screamed out Dinah, in a minute. “Oh-h-h!”
-
-“Allie _tole_ Dine attieilly on ou olly,” said Allie, as Dinah’s cries
-brought Laura, who picked off from Dinah’s neck an immense caterpillar,
-which the patient little fellow had been compelled to watch in its
-upward journey from the shoulder where he first espied it.
-
-At length the preparations were fairly finished, the horses were at
-the door, Allie’s eyes were dancing almost out of his head with joy,
-the refreshments were all packed in, and, almost in the midst of the
-baskets a stool was set for Allie, and his happy little self deposited
-upon it. The rest were finally seated, and the picnickers move off for
-Dudley’s woods.
-
-Everybody talked and laughed together; and Allie sang to himself, with
-no fear of being heard. Presently he seized an end of his sister’s
-shawl, and shouted with all his might:
-
-“Doos, Laula, doos!”
-
-“Yes, dear, Laula knows.”
-
-“_My_ doos, Laula! my _doos_ ober dare.”
-
-“Yes, dear, never mind,” was the answer.
-
-“Ve’er min’ _doos_, Laula?” said the voice, anxiously.
-
-“No, never mind, we’ll see another.”
-
-“Where is the feather on your hat, child?” asked Laura, when they had
-ridden two miles farther.
-
-“Doos _dawn_, Laula; ’ou ed no min’ my doos.”
-
-“Dear me! that was what he called his feather,--his goose,” said she.
-“I might have remembered.”
-
-“Laula, Allie’s feets feel ’et.”
-
-“Wet, child? I guess not,” said Laura, and chatted on.
-
-They were nearing the woods as she spoke, and soon the loaded carriages
-turned into a wood so uninviting and full of underbrush that you looked
-again all over the party to see if they appeared crazy from anything
-but gay spirits.
-
-No, they were sane, no doubt; and there must be an explanation for such
-a choice. The explanation was, that it was not choice at all, it was
-circumstance which guided them. Twenty-five years ago that very day,
-a party of four young married people, with their older children, had
-come to this wood to pick blackberries, which grew in great abundance
-upon its borders. It was half a frolic; but still it was no accident
-that sent them home with forty shining black quarts to enjoy by their
-firesides. The next year they went again, and the next, and the next;
-and every year the company grew larger. But, strange to say, as it grew
-larger the quarts grew smaller, and finally, somehow or other, “the
-blackberries are not worth picking this year;” or “the blackberries
-are all dried up this year,” became the continual complaint when the
-excursionists returned home with emptier and emptier baskets.
-
-But the “Blackberry Party” grew as thick as its namesake fruit had been
-of old, and now, for twenty-five years, fathers and mothers, sons and
-daughters, grandchildren and neighbors, gathered to the time-honored
-festival. To be sure, every year more of the elders stayed behind,
-because they missed one and another who were there “last year,” and
-life’s merriment was checked for them forever until they should follow.
-
-But new ones had come to take the lead, and the merry scenes went on in
-the gnarled old forest. It was a strange fact that in all these years
-the day on which the picnic occurred had never been stormy. A glorious
-succession of bright days had spanned the quarter of a century, and it
-was taken as a sign that heaven smiled peculiarly upon the innocent joy
-which the day was sure to bring.
-
-This was the quarter centennial, and the procession had picked up
-little Allie, as “big enough to go this year.” And so little Allie was
-very happy, although, in spite of Sister Laura’s assurance, he _did_
-think that his feet were “’et.”
-
-Laura thought so too, in a minute; for she lifted a can that had once
-held six quarts from the “morning’s milking,” and found “only a stingy
-little pint or so,” left.
-
-“Allie’s feet _us_ ’et, Laula,” said the voice, which did not dream
-that it sounded like the silver trumpet of an unheeded angel.
-
-“Fisk an’ Tarlo ginkin auty, Laula,” said Allie once more.
-
-“Carlo naughty! drive him away. But he won’t bite Allie.”
-
-“No, _’e bite auty_, ’pring auty.”
-
-“Never mind,--he won’t hurt you. Carlo is a good doggie.”
-
-“Go ’way, there! What are you doing, you scamps! I declare! Frisk and
-Carlo have been drinking half that spring water!”
-
-“Allie tole Laula.”
-
-But Laula was bemoaning the loss; for the spring was almost a mile
-away, and this wood was provided with no modern conveniences.
-
-The cask of ice-water was too precious to be used for cooking purposes,
-and away trudged the youths for another bucket-full.
-
-This weakened the effective force of the dinner getters materially;
-for, under the pretense of picking the traditional blackberries, nearly
-all the party, in couples or in groups, had strayed off to parts
-unseen. The remaining ones were lighting a lively fire, and going
-through various manœuvres before it, and a certain odor therefrom said
-plainly, “You don’t often get better coffee than I come from.”
-
-Allie, meantime, was roaming about unnoticed. He gained an immense
-amount of information in this leisure hour.
-
-Presently Laura called out, “I have got the lemons ready; bring me that
-box of sugar.”
-
-The box was brought, a ten-pound one, and full to the brim.
-
-“Laula, don’ pu’ dat! Dat au ’alt, Laula!”
-
-“Allie doesn’t like to see his pet sugar thrown away in such a big
-hole,” said she, gayly, as she emptied the box into the oaken cask.
-“Run for the ice-water, I hear them coming from all directions.”
-
-Great white lumps of ice, pure cold water,--in they went, and Laura
-stirred violently with her monstrous ladle.
-
-“Allie shall have the first taste,” said she, “to show him that his
-dear sugar is not wasted.”
-
-“Allie don’ wan’! Allie know e au ’alt.”
-
-“All spoilt? No, dear, just see how nice it is!”
-
-“Laula pu’ in ’_alt_,” said he, again. “Laula ta’!”
-
-Laula did “ta’,” then; and she dropped the cup with a scream of horror.
-For, besides the fact that ten pounds of salt in any combination do not
-help to make either a refreshing or a thirst-allaying drink, here were
-five dozen fine lemons, and many quarts of ice-water, a hopeless loss.
-
-“How could that stupid Dinah bring the salt instead of the sugar?” she
-muttered, as soon as vexation would allow her to speak at all.
-
-One by one the party dropped in, and the first cry was for lemonade,
-“Laura’s famous manufacture.” More famous than it ever had been it
-became immediately, and, amid the general din of exclamations no one
-heard Allie say:
-
-“Allie knew. Allie _tole_ Laula ’bout _’alt_!”
-
-Then was felt, with greater cruelty, the absence of milk for the
-fragrant coffee; and the delicious cake, and sandwiches, and ham, and
-turkey, and tarts, and pastry, were but half enjoyed.
-
-It was with a heavy heart that poor Laura packed up the dishes, and
-laid away more untouched food, than usual.
-
-A row of lemon and berry pies had been set upon one of the benches; and
-somebody, to keep the insects out, had thrown a table-cloth upon them.
-Along came two lovers, whose visions were only fairy-like, and who were
-in that state of mind when it made no difference where they rested or
-went, so that they rested or went together. With their eyes entirely
-occupied in gazing at one another, they wandered up to the temporary
-cupboard.
-
-A little voice close by fairly screamed out:
-
-“Don’ ’it on ’e bys! Don’t ’it on ’e bys!”
-
-A vague smile into his earnest face was all the reply he received, and
-down sat the pair, too full of a fond trust in themselves to remember
-to doubt anything created.
-
-“Oh! oh! oh! oh!” resounded all about them, and an instant later their
-own “oh” mingled in the chorus, as the groan of broken crockery rose on
-the air, and table-cloth and drapery were pronounced a ruin.
-
-“’Ou ’at wite on ’e bys,” said a voice which was not needed to confirm
-the fact.
-
-At length the light of the twenty-fifth glorious day began to steal in
-long darting lines among the foliage that had been a shelter from its
-rays all day. As the company assembled, it was found to have been an
-unusually bad year for blackberries, though why it should have been the
-most imaginative did not venture to suggest.
-
-As they started homeward Laura said:
-
-“Now sit right still, Allie, for fear you should fall out, for we shall
-go very fast indeed.”
-
-There was little need for the warning, as Allie was well wedged down in
-front, and well wrapped up in an extra shawl of Laura’s, because she
-forgot to bring his little overcoat.
-
-But by-and-by the whip worked quietly out of its broken holder, and no
-eyes but the two bright, observant eyes in the littlest head saw that
-in a minute it must fall.
-
-The little fellow tried to dart forward, but the great shawl held him
-too securely.
-
-“Sit still, Allie,” said Laura.
-
-Poor Allie seemed to think he might as well, too. His warnings had
-saved nothing, yet; but still from his huge roll of woolen he said:
-
-“’E ’ip dop, Laula.”
-
-Presently the horses lagged a little, and the driver, leaning forward
-for his whip, discovered its loss.
-
-The long procession halted, wondering what had happened to the first
-carriage. The whip was found, “’way back,” and, as two carriages had
-passed over it, it was a handsome whip no more.
-
-“What a shame!” said the driver, as he tried to crack the broken lash.
-
-“Allie tole ’ou. Allie’s patint am keen wown ou’!” fell from the cherry
-lips.
-
-Now came home and bed for the little child who had begun to be joyous
-in anticipation at four o’clock in the morning. No wonder that in such
-a long series of discouragements his “patience was clear wore out.”
-
-His sleep that night was broken by a kind of baby-boy, Cassandra-like
-murmur, which would have touched to its depths the heart of any tender
-soul that heard it.
-
-“Laula,” it said, plaintively, “Allie tole ’ou!”
-
-But Laula was fast asleep.
-
-[Illustration: A PRIZE FOR A SQUIRREL.]
-
-
-
-
-[Illustration]
-
-WHAT HAPPENED TO THE BABY.
-
-BY MAGARET EYTINGE.
-
-
-The Tutchy children were all mad.
-
-I don’t mean they had lost their senses and required strait-jackets,
-but they certainly did need something to smooth the frowns from their
-brows and the pouts from their lips.
-
-The Tutchy children were pretty children--when they weren’t mad--with
-bright blue eyes, much the color of some of their grandmother’s
-centennial dinner-plates, and auburn hair that looked as though it
-would, on the slightest provocation, turn red.
-
-There were nine of them, Susie, Willie, Robbie, Lizzie, Nellie, Annie,
-Sallie, Maud and Baby.
-
-Quite enough for such a little woman as Mrs. Tutchy to look after.
-
-Captain Tutchy was away--he was away about half the time with his ship
-“The Treasure”--named, he said, after his wife--and Mrs. Tutchy had
-just received a letter from him saying he could not be home for the
-Christmas holidays, and so the children must wait for their presents
-and their party until he came, “and you may expect me, my dear,” the
-letter ended, “the second day of the New Year.”
-
-And this is why the Tutchy children were mad.
-
-They said nothing until mamma, hearing baby cry, went out of the room.
-Then they began:
-
-“What will Christmas be without papa?” said Lizzie. “Who’s to laugh,
-I’d like to know? Papa does most of the laughing.”
-
-“I shan’t, for one!” said Willie.
-
-“Nor I,” said Robbie.
-
-“There won’t be a bit of fun getting up early on Christmas morning,”
-said Nellie. “No boxes to open, and no stockings to empty!”
-
-“_I’ll_ not hang up my stocking, and I’ll not get up early, either--so
-there now!” said Annie.
-
-“Why? won’t Santa Claus come at all?” asked Sallie and Maud, in one
-breath.
-
-“Yes, I s’pose he’ll come,” answered Annie, “but he won’t bring such
-nice things as he does when papa’s home. He’s a very, very old friend
-of papa’s.”
-
-“No party! Just think of it!” said Susie. “’Twon’t seem like Christmas.”
-
-“And the captain,” said Robbie, who was fond of giving the captain his
-title, “isn’t coming back till the day school begins. He never did such
-a thing before, and _I_ think it’s real mean!”
-
-“Great old holidays!” said Lizzie.
-
-“_I’m_ mad!” said Susie, who, by-the-by, was the eldest of them all.
-
-“So are we all of us!” said the others in chorus.
-
-Just then Mrs. Tutchy came into the room with Baby in her arms, and in
-Baby’s arms was a funny, broken-nosed doll.
-
-Baby was the sweetest, dearest little thing that ever played
-“patty-cake” or said “goo.”
-
-Her eyes were so blue that you thought of violets, blue-bells, and
-summer skies, the moment you saw them, and then gave it up, for there
-was nothing quite as blue as they were, and her silken hair lay all
-over her pretty, round head in tiny rings just the size and color of
-mamma’s wedding-ring.
-
-Mrs. Tutchy looked both surprised and sad when she saw eight frowns and
-pouts--perhaps I should say seven, as wee Maud’s almost disappeared
-when she looked up at her mother--instead of eight smiles.
-
-But she pretended not to notice the sixteen unlovely things, and said,
-in a pleasant voice, “Baby is ready for a ride. I have wrapped her up
-warmly. Get her hood, Susie, and, Willie and Robbie, fasten her little
-wagon on your new sled. You may all go for a walk--I don’t remember
-such a fine 24th of December for years--but I shall expect you home in
-an hour, and whatever you do, take good care of Baby.”
-
-Now if the Tutchy children had not been mad they would have jumped up
-and down and shouted and half-smothered Baby with hugs and kisses; but
-being mad, they went silently about--their silence, to tell the truth,
-would have been considered noise by a small, quiet family--preparing
-for their walk.
-
-And when they were ready, if Maud had not set them the example, they
-would have actually forgotten to kiss mamma “good-by.” Dear me! how mad
-they were!
-
-Off they started in a funereal manner, Susie and Maud ahead, the other
-girls following two by two, and the boys dragging Baby, still holding
-the broken-nosed doll, in her little wagon on the sled, bringing up the
-rear.
-
-Baby crowed and cooed and prattled to her dollie--there never was a
-jollier baby in the whole world--but still Will and Bobbie frowned and
-pouted.
-
-“I wish we didn’t have to lug Baby everywhere,” at last said Willie.
-
-“So do I,” said Robbie.
-
-They had never thought, much less said such a thing before, but then
-they had never been quite as mad before.
-
-Suddenly the sound of a drum was heard, then the shrill blasts of horns
-and the ear-piercing strains of a fife, and they could see a crowd
-gathering in the distance.
-
-“Hurry up!” called Susie, who had remarkably sharp eyes, “there’s some
-men on horseback dressed awful funny!” and away she ran, dragging Maud
-by the hand, and away went Nellie, Lizzie, Annie and Sallie after her
-as fast as they could go.
-
-“We can’t run with Baby,” said Willie, “and we’ll miss all the fun!”
-
-“Too bad!” said Robbie, with two frowns rolled into one. “But I say,
-Will, let’s go anyhow.”
-
-“Pshaw! there won’t be anything to see by the time _we_ get there,”
-said Will.
-
-“I don’t mean to take Baby,” said Robbie. “We’ll leave her by the door
-of this empty house. Nothing can happen to her before we come back.”
-
-“That’s so,” said Will, “we won’t be gone a minute;” and they lifted
-the sled, wagon and all, up the two steps that led to the door, and,
-before Baby knew what they were about, they were off.
-
-The other children were already two blocks away, but the boys soon
-overtook them, and another block brought them to the spot where the
-crowd was gathered.
-
-The frowns and pouts, for the time being, disappeared, and the Tutchys
-laughed long and loud at the antics of the queer-looking figures who
-were parading about with a patch-work banner inscribed, “Old Original
-Santa Claus Guards,” when suddenly Susie turned around, and with
-frightened eyes cried out:
-
-“Why Will,--Robbie, where’s Baby?”
-
-Will hung his head, but Robbie, assuming a careless air, replied:
-
-“The captain’s youngest daughter? O! she’s safe. We couldn’t bring her
-and run after you too, and so we left her.”
-
-But Susie waited to hear no more. “Show me where!” she said, and they
-all started back again on a much faster run than that with which they
-had followed “The Old Original Santa Claus Guards.”
-
-The “house to let” was quickly reached.
-
-No sled--no wagon--no broken-nosed doll--no BABY was there!
-
-And now indeed the frowns and pouts took flight, and tears and sobs
-came in their stead.
-
-“O dear! O dear!” cried the Tutchy children, “what shall we do?”
-
-Then they ran hither and thither, asking every one they met:
-
-“Have you seen a baby in a little wagon on a sled?”
-
-“A beautiful baby, with blue eyes?”
-
-“A broken-nosed baby--O, no, no, no! a _lovely_ baby with a
-broken-nosed doll?”
-
-“A sweet baby, with golden curls?”
-
-“A baby named ‘Snow-drop’ and ‘Diamond’ and ‘Bird’ and ‘Plum’?”
-
-No one had seen her, and sadly the procession took up the line of march
-for home.
-
-How they told their mamma they never knew, but when the tale was done
-she gave one great gasp, and tore out of the house like a wild woman,
-with no hat on her head, and nothing but a small shawl about her.
-
-“I must go too,” said Susie, and she flew after the poor distracted
-mother, while the seven other children sat down on the floor and cried.
-
-“O! how wicked we have been,” said Lizzie, “to say that to-morrow
-wouldn’t be a merry Christmas, when we had such a darling, beautiful
-baby!”
-
-“And dear papa coming home in a few days!” sobbed Nellie.
-
-“And mamma so good and sweet!” said Sallie.
-
-“And all of us such very nice chilluns!” said Maud.
-
-Willie and Robbie said nothing, but buried their faces in their hands,
-and wept softly.
-
-[Illustration: “I SEE DIS YERE BABY A-SETTIN’ ON A SLED.”]
-
-The sun went down, and back came mamma and Susie, hollow-eyed and pale,
-but no Baby.
-
-Not one of the children thought of stockings, or presents, or parties,
-or Christmas itself, that wretched Christmas Eve, but they clustered in
-silence, real silence this time, about their mother, until one by one
-they fell asleep.
-
-But Mrs. Tutchy sat with dry, wide-opened eyes, listening--listening
-all night long, until the joyous morning chimes rang out upon the
-clear, frosty air.
-
-As they ceased, the sharp ringing of the street door-bell echoed
-through the quiet house.
-
-Dropping wee Maud from her lap, where she had slept for several hours,
-the poor little woman, her heart beating loud and fast, hastened with
-trembling steps to the door and flung it open.
-
-There stood a tall, straight negro woman, with a gaudy turban on her
-head, a small boy, much darker than herself, clinging to her skirts
-with one hand, and yes--O, thanks to the good God--holding the rope of
-the boys’ sled with the other, baby in her arms!
-
-Almost as wild with joy as she had been with sorrow, the mother
-snatched her darling, and covered her with kisses.
-
-“Come in, come in,” she cried, in her old, pleasant voice, the tired
-gone out of her face, and her eyes shining bright with happiness.
-
-Up jumped the Tutchy children from all corners of the room, and such a
-hurrahing and shouting of “Merry Christmas,” and kissing of Baby never
-was known, even in _that_ house before.
-
-“An’ now, yo’ Abraham Ulysses, yo’ jess tell the lady yo’ information,”
-said the woman to the grinning boy, pulling her dress out of his hand,
-and pushing him forward.
-
-“Needn’t push so,” said Abraham Ulysses, rolling his eyes about in the
-most wonderful manner for a moment, and then fixing them solemnly on
-Mrs. Tutchy’s face.
-
-“I war a-goin’ along, an’ da’ war a drum down da’--I’s goin’ to have a
-drum--”
-
-“I’ll _drum_ ye,” interrupted his mother, giving him a smart slap on
-the cheek. “Perceed on yo’ story widout no prelimnaries.”
-
-“Yo’ jess stop dat now, Mary Ann Johnson. I ain’t tellin’ no story. I’s
-tellin’ the truff, ebery word of it, an’ yo’d better mine yo’ brack
-bisness, Mary Ann Johnson, and dat’s de fac’!”
-
-“Lissen at dat ar sassy young nigger!” said Mary Ann Johnson, raising
-her hands and eyes. “Go on, I tell yo.”
-
-Abraham Ulysses went on.
-
-“Da war a drum an’ sojers--I’s goin’ to be a sojer, a sword sojer--and
-all de wite folks dey runned to see ’em, an’ I runned, too, but ’pears,
-tho’, I couldn’t git da’, an’ I see dis yere baby a-settin’ on a sled,
-an’ I sez to myself, ‘Bressed nippers! Abra’m ’Lysses, dat ar’s one of
-dem angel babies dat done come done from hebben Chrismasses, an’ dat
-ar’ sled she’s a-settin on, Santy Close’s goin’ to giv’ to yo’ sho’s
-yo’ bohn!’ an’ I took hole dat ar rope, an’ drug dat ar’ sled--”
-
-“To our premises,” interrupted his mother, “an’ he cum a-runnin’ in,
-an’ a-shoutin’ ‘Hi! mam, here’s a little angel fer yo’! take her out de
-waggin quick, an’ giv’ de sled to me.’”
-
-“But bress yo’ heart, honey, I knowed dat ar’ baby was mislaid de
-minute dese eyes beheld her, an’ I took de sweet thing in my arms an’
-mollified her tears, an’ giv’ her some milk an’ soon she fell asleep.
-
-“An’ I set up dis yere bressed night wid dat ar’ bressed chile,
-’spectin’ ebery minute somebody’d come and require for her, an’ sho’
-’nuff, a perliceman makes his appearment early dis yere bressed mornin’
-an’ tole me--how he foun’ out war de chile was de Lord ony knows--to
-fetch de pooty lammie here, an’ I done come tho’ Mr. Johnson is
-a-waitin fer his breakfis’, an’ de pork a-sizzlin’ in de pan dis yere
-bressed minute.”
-
-“Thank you a million times!” said Mrs. Tutchy; and in the twinkling
-of an eye Mary Ann Johnson was several dollars richer than when she
-entered the room.
-
-“Thank you a million of times!” repeated the children; and Will, after
-whispering a moment with Robbie, went up to Abraham Ulysses, and placed
-the rope of the sled, which he had dropped while telling his story, in
-his funny little black hand. “The ‘Two-Forty’ is yours,” he said.
-
-“Hi, mam! look a-yere, yo’ Mary Ann Johnson, wot I done tole yo’? Santy
-Close _did_ send it to me,” screamed Abraham Ulysses, cutting a queer
-caper, “an’ sho’s yo’s bohn dat ar’ baby _is_ an angel, too, ain’t
-she?” turning to Mrs. Tutchy.
-
-“Yes, my boy,” said the happy little woman, “the angel of _this_
-house.”
-
-[Illustration]
-
-[Illustration: A TURKISH CARRIAGE.]
-
-
-
-
-[Illustration]
-
-MRS. WHITE’S PARTY.
-
-BY MRS. H. G. ROWE.
-
-
-“Now, Ef May, you go right straight back home! Lotty an’ I want a
-little time to ourselves without a little snip like you taggin’ after,
-an’ listenin’ to every word we say; so you go right straight back this
-minute!”
-
-Little Effie Maylie Marsh (called “Ef May” for short) turned her round
-blue eyes for a moment full upon her sister, and then, without word
-or sign, trotted composedly along in that sister’s wake, serenely
-oblivious of the fact that she was the one too many in the little
-party that had started, joyful at the prospect of a whole afternoon’s
-confidential chat, for the blackberry patch over the hill, when poor Ef
-May as usual intruded her roly-poly presence just when she was least
-wanted.
-
-“Did Mother know that you came?”
-
-Sister Anne looked and spoke with all the dignity that her twelve years
-was capable of, but the intruder never flinched.
-
-“Yes, she did. _I_ said lemme go pick blackberry with the other girls,
-an’ _she_ said”--
-
-“What?”
-
-“Yes, if they don’t pro_ject_.”
-
-Both girls laughed, for Ef May was famous for her conversational
-blunders, and good-natured Lotty whispered under the shelter of her
-sunbonnet:
-
-“Let her go, she won’t do any harm.”
-
-“Yes she will. She’ll hear every single word we say and tell Gus of it
-just as quick as she gets home. _I_ know her, of old.”
-
-Poor Anne had had bitter experiences of her little sister’s quickness
-of hearing and equal quickness in repeating whatever she had heard, and
-she was far too shrewd to trust her on this occasion. But how to get
-rid of the dear little nuisance--ah, that was the rub!
-
-“May,” she whispered mysteriously, and Ef May pricked up her ears and
-looked curious. “If you’ll go home now, like a good girl, you shall
-(put your ear closer, so Lotty won’t hear) go to _Mrs. White’s party_,
-to-night.”
-
-Ef May had often heard older people talk about parties, and in her
-inquisitive little soul she had longed many a time, to know more about
-them, and especially to see with her own eyes what they were like; and
-now she stood with her great blue eyes wide open like a pair of very
-early morning glories, and a little flush of excitement deepened the
-roses on her plump cheeks, as Anne continued in her most seductive
-tones:
-
-“Now, run right along, there’s a darling! and I’ll get you ready, my
-own self, and see that you have a”--
-
-“Rockaway?” suggested Lotty, in a voice that sounded suspiciously
-hoarse, to which Anne replied, with an air of lofty disdain that,--
-
-“Ef May had outgrown such babyish ways long ago, and would go to the
-party as other folks did.”
-
-Ef May was a very old bird for one of her age, and this “chaff” between
-the two girls did strike her as a little suspicious. Perhaps there was
-some hidden flaw in this magnificent offer, and jerking her little
-yellow curly head one side like a shrewd canary, she fixed one round,
-bright eye full upon her sister’s face as she asked solemnly:
-
-“Now, Anne Marsh,--‘honest an’ true, black an’ blue,’ can I go to Mrs.
-White’s party, this very night?”
-
-“Yes, you shall, if I have to go with you myself.”
-
-Ef May was satisfied; even Lotty’s half suppressed giggle passed
-unobserved, and her face shone with happy anticipation as turning her
-chubby feet homeward she smiled her parting salutation:
-
-“Good-by,--I’ll go home an’ _’repair_ myself for the party.”
-
-The girls laughed, but Lotty said rather regretfully:
-
-“It was kinder too bad to _fool_ the little thing so. What will you say
-to her when night comes?”
-
-“Oh, I’ll coax her up, somehow--make her doll a new hat, maybe.”
-
-And thus dismissing poor Ef May and her forthcoming disappointment from
-their minds the two girls walked gaily on, laughing and chatting in
-their pleasant school-girl fashion, as they gathered the rich purple
-berries, heedless of scratched hands and stained finger tips, while
-they listened to the partridge drumming in the cedars overhead, or
-the social chatter of that provident little householder the squirrel,
-who, perched upon some convenient bough out of possible reach of their
-longing fingers, discoursed in the choicest squirrel language of his
-way of preserving acorns and beechnuts by a receipt handed down from
-squirrel forefathers as far back as the days of Noah--a receipt that
-never had failed and never would.
-
-It was after sunset when, with full baskets and tired steps, they
-walked up the lane that led to Anne’s home, both starting guiltily as
-they caught sight of Ef May’s little figure seated in the doorway with
-her bowl of bread and milk and her blue eyes turned wistfully upon them
-as they came slowly up the clover-bordered path.
-
-“I was in hopes she’d be asleep,” muttered Anne with an uncomfortable
-feeling at the heart as she saw the joyfully significant nod with which
-her little sister greeted her, and hastily bestowing a generous handful
-of the delicious fruit upon her, she said, with an effort to appear
-natural and at ease:
-
-“See what a lot of nice, ripe blackberries I brought you!”
-
-The little girl smiled, but she shook her head with an air of happy
-importance.
-
-“I’ll put ’em away for my breakfast,” she whispered. “I must save my
-appetite for _to-night_, you know.”
-
-Anne could have cried with a relish.
-
-“Oh, Ef May,” she began penitently, “I’m afraid I’ve done wrong in
-telling you--”
-
-“Come, Anne! Come right in! Supper is waiting for you,” called their
-mother, and the confession was postponed until they should be alone
-again; but when that time came, and, after her usual custom Anne took
-the little one to her room to undress and put her to bed, the sight
-of the child’s happy expectant face forced back the words that she
-would have spoken and made her feel that she could not yet confess the
-deception.
-
-“You must curl my hair real pretty, now. I _do_ wish,” with a sigh,
-“that mamma would let me wear her _waterwig_.”
-
-And the bright eyes shone like stars, as she thus gave the signal for
-the preparations to commence; and Anne obeyed, patiently brushing out
-the tangled locks and curling them one by one over her fingers, while
-she listened to the excited chatter of her little charge and vaguely
-wondered how long it would be possible for those dreadfully wide awake
-eyes to keep open. She was as long about her task as possible, but the
-the last curl was finished at last, and Effie asked eagerly:
-
-“What dress are you going to put on me?”
-
-By this time poor Anne was fairly desperate.
-
-“I forgot to tell you,” she said with a sudden determination to carry
-out the joke to the end, “that this is a queer party, something like
-the ‘sheet and pillow case balls,’ that you’ve heard of,--and everybody
-goes to this in----in their nightgowns.”
-
-Ef May looked up sharply.
-
-“What’s that for?” she asked with a suspicious look at her sister’s
-guilty face.
-
-“Because--well, I guess its because its the fashion.”
-
-Ef May pondered the subject for a moment, and then her brow cleared:
-
-“I’ll wear my very bestest one, then, with the _tuckered out_ yoke an’
-_Humbug_ trimming,” she said, complacently, “an’ my corals outside.”
-
-Anne obeyed without a word, and the little lady surveyed herself in the
-glass with a smile of intense satisfaction.
-
-“Ain’t it most time to go?” she asked, and Anne detecting, as she
-thought, just the ghost of a yawn in the tone, replied briskly:
-
-“Oh no, not for some time yet. Come and sit in my lap,--there lay your
-head on my shoulder, ea-sy, so as not to tumble the curls, and I’ll
-sing, ‘Tap, tap, tapping at the garden gate,’ so you won’t get tired of
-waiting you know.”
-
-[Illustration: MRS. WHITE’S PARTY.]
-
-The little girl was nothing loth to accept her sister’s offer, for in
-spite of her exertions to keep herself awake the heavy eyelids would
-droop, the curly head press more heavily, and the lively, chattering
-little tongue grow slower and more indistinct in its utterances until
-at last it was silent altogether; not even the tiniest line of blue
-parted the golden lashes, the dimples settled undisturbed into their
-old places about the rosy mouth while only the faintest breath of a
-sigh answered to Anne’s good-night kiss as she softly laid her precious
-burden down among the snowy pillows of her own little bed, and stole
-away, with the secret resolve in her heart that never again, by word
-or act, would she deceive the innocent little sister who trusted so
-implicitly in her truth and honor.
-
-       *       *       *       *       *
-
-It _was_ a funny party, and Ef May looked about her in astonishment
-as a servant in dressing gown and night-cap, announced in a sleepy
-sing-song tone:
-
-“Miss Ef May Marsh?”
-
-Mrs. White, a heavy-eyed lady in an elaborately embroidered and ruffled
-night-dress, gave her hand a little languid shake, and asked, in a
-faint, die-away voice:
-
-“How do you rest, my dear?”
-
-“Very well, ma’am, generally, ’cept when I eat too much cake for my
-supper.”
-
-At this Mrs. White nodded intelligently.
-
-“’S that you, Ef May?” murmured a voice at her elbow, and there was
-Tommy Bliss, his brown curls all in a tangle, and--oh, horrible! in a
-yellow flannel night-gown with _legs_. Such a figure as he was with his
-short body all the way of a bigness, and his little yellow straddling
-legs like an old-fashioned brass andiron.
-
-Ef May turned away and pretended not to see him, while she remarked
-with an air of kindly condescension to a little girl near her:
-
-“It’s _impressively_ warm here.”
-
-“Kick the clo’es off, then.”
-
-There was a refreshing briskness in the tones that went straight to Ef
-May’s heart and she “took to” the stranger on the spot.
-
-“Who is that old gentleman with such a big tassel in his night-cap?”
-
-The little girl rubbed her eyes and looked in the direction indicated.
-
-“Oh, that’s old Dr. Opiamus. He gives all the babies paragoric, and the
-old folks laudanum, so that they can die and not know it.”
-
-Ef May shuddered. There was something in the idea that even to her
-childish fancy was horrible.
-
-“Don’t you want another blanket?” asked her new friend; but Ef May
-shook her head.
-
-“I hear some music?” she exclaimed, and just then began the funniest
-medley of sound that was ever heard:
-
-First, a low, soft, half-frightened strain as of some wandering
-night-bird calling to his mate to set her glow-worm lamp in the window
-to light him home; then the quick, cheery note of the cricket chimed
-in; the owl’s solemn “too-whit! too-whit! too-whoo!” broke in at
-stately intervals; and the “rain-call” of the loon burst forth like a
-wild, weird laugh in the midst of the softer sounds, until the dancers,
-who had tried in vain to keep time with the strange music, faltered,
-hesitated, and at last stopped entirely, and dropped off to sleep upon
-the couches and easy chairs with which the rooms were filled, to a low,
-monotonous march that sounded exactly like the patter of raindrops upon
-the roof.
-
-The costumes were a study, and Ef May who strange to say didn’t feel at
-all sleepy herself, found it rare fun to watch them.
-
-There were old ladies, who minus their false fronts, teeth, and
-spectacles, would never have been recognized by their most intimate
-friends, in “calf’s-head” night-caps tied tightly under their chins,
-short night-gowns with wide, crimped ruffles at neck and wrists, and
-blue flannel petticoats just short enough to show the felt slippers
-beneath; young ladies, whose wealth of curls, braids and puffs had many
-a time excited the admiration and envy of their less fortunate sisters,
-appeared here, looking like picked chickens, their luxuriant tresses
-packed away in a drawer, their flounces, and ruffles, and panniers, and
-overskirts, all safe in the closet, their jewelry and their smiles laid
-aside together, and they nodded indifferently to stately gentlemen in
-tasselled night-caps and gorgeous dressing gowns, or frowned aside upon
-the boys, who, in all sorts of night gear, bobbed about in the most
-desirable nooks and corners, disturbing everybody with their clumsy
-ways and sleepy drollery.
-
-In short, taken as a whole, a comical looking set they were,--and
-_so_ stupid! Ef May felt somewhat hurt and a good deal offended when
-even her new friend dropped off into a doze instead of listening to
-her questions, and she was only too glad when a good looking young
-gentleman with a pen behind his ear and a roll of manuscript sticking
-out of the pocket of his dressing gown, walked leisurely up to her and
-began talking in a queer rambling fashion about the people around them.
-
-“What makes some of the sleepiest folks groan and grumble so, all the
-time?” asked the little girl curiously, and her companion laughed, a
-queer, dreamy sort of a laugh, as he replied:
-
-“Oh, those are the ones that came here on nightmares,--that sort of
-riding always makes people restless, it’s worse than a hobby for that!”
-
-He spoke the last words with a sudden fierceness that startled her, but
-he didn’t seem to notice her frightened face for he kept on talking, in
-that steady but far off tone:
-
-“Do you see that man there with his face all twisted up into a knot?
-That’s the head master of the Boys’ Grammar School,--he ate toasted
-cheese for his supper and he’s having a hard night of it,--no doubt the
-_boys_ will have _a hard time of it_, to-morrow.”
-
-Ef May thought of brother Gus’ careless scholarship, and trembled.
-
-“There’s a little girl that told a lie to her mother,--hear her moan
-and sob! She will confess her fault and ask to be forgiven, in the
-morning, I think.”
-
-Ef May silently took the lesson to heart.
-
-“Do you see that old fellow in the corner? How he grasps with his hands
-and mutters, and now he is trying to call ‘murder!’ He has spent all
-his life hoarding up riches, and now, sleeping or waking, he lives
-in constant terror of losing his gold that he will neither spend for
-himself or others.”
-
-“But here,” and the speaker pointed to a corner near at hand, where
-rolled up into a round yellow ball, was the figure of Johnny Staples,
-sound asleep in the velvety depths of an easy chair, his good-natured,
-honest little face, calm and peaceful, with not a cloud of suffering,
-remorse or fear to mar its innocent beauty.
-
-“But here,” he repeated, “is one who will find in our friend’s party
-the refreshment and rest that only health and innocence can reasonably
-expect.”
-
-Just then the company showed signs of a general breaking up, and the
-assembled guests gave such a loud, unanimous _snore_ that Ef May
-started up, terrified half out of her senses; and pulling vigorously at
-her sleeping sister’s sleeve, she cried out with a burst of angry tears:
-
-“It’s a nasty, mean old party, any how! They snore, an’ talk in their
-sleep, an’ make up faces, an’--I won’t go again, _so_, there!”
-
-But she _did_ for all that.
-
-[Illustration]
-
-
-
-
-[Illustration]
-
-QUEER CHURCH.
-
-BY REV. S. W. DUFFIELD.
-
-
-Of course Queer Church is on Queer Street, in the town of Manoa. And
-all good boys and girls who study geography know just where Manoa ought
-to be.
-
-The Rev. Mr. Thingumbob is the minister, and among the principal
-attendants are Mr. So-and-So, Mr. What’s-his-Name, Mr. Jigmaree, Mr.
-You-Know-Who, Mrs. Grundy, Mr. Tom Collins, the Misses Glubberson, Mr.
-What-d’ye-Callum, that distinguished foreign family the Van Danks,
-Mr. William Patterson, Mrs. Partington, and Mr. Gradgrind. You have
-possibly heard of some of these persons before. Besides, there is quite
-a congregation, and there is also a very big number of little people,
-aged all the way from five to fifteen.
-
-Where there are so many of them it naturally follows that they have a
-large number of things their own way. But probably my story would not
-have been written if a little girl called True Gravelines hadn’t come
-to town. “True” is short for Gertrude, which was her name.
-
-True had been taken from the Orphan Asylum by Mrs. Potiphar. And
-because she loved the little lady, Mrs. Potiphar had her taught and
-trained as her own daughter, and even Mrs. Grundy said that she
-was charming, and the Glubberson girls--who were old maids and not
-handsome--allowed that she would make a fine woman.
-
-Finally True came across the story of “Goody-Two-Shoes,” which that
-great big child of an Oliver Goldsmith told so sweetly, and she had
-some new ideas. One of them was that she would like to make some
-changes in Queer Church.
-
-So she got all the boys and girls together after school and proposed
-her plan. Now True was tall for her age, with dark eyes, and beautiful
-rich brown hair. And she wore lovely dresses, and _such_ kid slippers,
-and _such_ a splendid real gold chain with a true and genuine watch
-that ticked and kept time. So of course she had matters a good deal in
-her own hands.
-
-The “chatter meeting” (as she called it) was held in the summer-house
-that cost ten thousand dollars, and that stood among Mrs. Potiphar’s
-roses in the side garden back of the lawn. And it resolved to send a
-committee to wait on Mr. Thingumbob--for Queer Church was the only
-church in Manoa, and they all went there on Sundays.
-
-They weren’t a bit afraid of him--not they! He had lots of boys and
-girls of his own, and one of them had such rosy cheeks that he looked
-as though the angel had forgotten to bring him to the front door and
-had stuck him in the apple-tree, whence, when he was ready to be
-picked, his father had taken him down.
-
-To be sure True was the head of the delegation, and it started off,
-twenty strong, on Saturday morning. How the people at the Manse opened
-their eyes as the troop came in, just as grave as you please, and
-asking to be shown up to the study. Well, so did the minister when he
-saw them. He laid down his pen and he said: “How do you do, gentlemen
-and ladies! Pray be seated!” So they all sat down wherever they could,
-and waited for True to begin.
-
-“Mr. Thingumbob,” she said, “why can’t we be somebodies in church, too?”
-
-“I don’t know, my dear. Aren’t you somebodies now?”
-
-“O-dear-bless-me-no,” says True, all in a breath.
-
-“Well, what would you like to do?” asked Mr. Thingumbob.
-
-“Why, we’d just like to have one week all to ourselves in the church,
-and one Sunday all to ourselves, to have sermons, and sing hymns, and
-all such things.”
-
-The pastor looked very queer--just like his church. Now _that_ had in
-it everything to make a church pleasant--but it was all for big people.
-Said he “True, I guess I’ll try it. You stay here with me and let the
-rest of these youngsters go.”
-
-So the black-eyed ten-year-older stayed and talked and planned, and
-then how they laughed, and then they talked some more and laughed some
-more, and then it was dinner-time. And away went True.
-
-On Sunday morning in that beautiful autumn weather, Mr.
-Thingumbob--who did pretty much as _he_ pleased too told the church
-about it. All that week the children were to have it their own way.
-Nobody was to do anything but the children. As a special favor to
-himself he wanted to have _them_ do just as they pleased all that week
-and next Sunday, and he’d be responsible.
-
-When I first heard the story I thought the children and he must have
-loved each a great deal, for him to make such an offer. And I guess
-they did.
-
-Let’s see. Monday was his reception evening and he wanted nobody to
-come but the children. So they all came, and played big people, and
-asked about his health and how he enjoyed his summer vacation, and
-talked of business, and said their children (doll-children you know)
-had the measles and the whooping-cough, and what luck they had in
-shooting (with a bow-gun) and how they hoped he’d call soon and all
-that. Such a time! How funny it did seem, too.
-
-And then there was Tuesday evening, and Mr. Thingumbob had a literary
-circle who met in the church parlor. So all the children went, and
-all the big people were to have stayed away--but _I_ know some who
-_peeked_. And Mr. Thingumbob told them about the little boy, Tom
-Chatterton, up in St. Mary Radcliffe church, and the boxes with the old
-papers, and how this small chap wrote poetry and how he pretended to
-copy it from the old papers, and how great learned men went to words
-over it and some said ‘He did’ and some said ‘He didn’t’ and some
-called him a ‘forger’ and some called him a ‘genius,’ and how he got
-tired of it all, and how he took a drink of arsenic and water and died
-when he was hardly grown to be a man.--For that was just what the big
-folks expected to talk about.
-
-And then there was Wednesday evening, and that was Prayer-meeting.
-And the big grown-up people all stayed away and the little folks all
-came. How they did sing! And what a pleasant talk they had _that_
-night too--about the little Boy that heard the doctors and asked them
-questions until his mother thought he had run away and got lost. And
-Mr. Thingumbob sat right down in the middle of them and they got all
-around him and he was the only big man there was there.
-
-And then there was Thursday night--when the church people used to go
-to their Mission Chapel and help the poor people to sing and pray
-and find out how they did and what they wanted. So they all went
-together--all the larger children of Queer church, that is--and saw the
-mission people. And True Gravelines felt so badly for a poor little
-girl that she gave her her warm gloves. And Tommy What’s-his-name let
-another fellow have his brand-new jack-knife because he hadn’t got any
-at all of his own. And there wasn’t one of them that didn’t give the
-Mission people pennies, or promise things to them, like the big folks.
-
-And on Friday afternoon they had a sewing-society and the girls came
-and sewed--dear, dear, what sewing it was!--and they brought lunch
-along and the boys came to tea, and it was just like a pic-nic. And Mr.
-Thingumbob was there too. And afterwards they played “Hy-Spy” in the
-church up-stairs, down the aisles and in the galleries and back of the
-organ--and True Gravelines, for real and certain, hid under the pulpit!
-And then they set back all the chairs in the Sunday-school room and
-played “Fox and Geese” and “Thread the Needle” and ever so many other
-things that I don’t know the names of--only I _do_ know that they were
-bound to act all the while like gentlemen and ladies, and they surely
-did.
-
-And then came Saturday and they forgot all about being big men and
-women, and went off to play and let Mr. Thingumbob alone so he could
-_write_ his sermon. But he said he didn’t want to write his sermon,
-he wanted to _talk_ it, and he asked True what he should talk about.
-And she told him she wanted to hear about the little girl that was
-sick and died and that Some One took by the hand and made her well.
-So he said he would, and he promised to use real short weenty-teenty
-words--“Because” said True, “there’s some that’s only little bits of
-things and _they_ won’t understand.”
-
-And then Sunday came. And all the big people took back seats. And all
-the little people went in to play big people, and opened their bibles
-and their hymn-books, and stood up, and sat down, and sang, and leaned
-their heads forward in prayer-time, and did just what they saw their
-papas and mammas do. And one boy, Peter Gradgrind, he went to sleep,
-because he said that was the way his father did. And Mr. Thingumbob
-laughed when he heard that.
-
-And that was a real short service. It was all there, every bit of it.
-But the sermon was only a quarter of an hour long and all the rest was
-in the same proportion.
-
-When it came time for Sunday school they all went. And the biggest one
-in each class taught the others. And by this time they had all got to
-be so good that they were trying to be big folks in earnest. And there
-was Tom Collins Jr. for Superintendent and _he_ tried his best. And
-True played the tunes on the cabinet organ. And you never did see how
-well it all went!
-
-Weren’t they tired when night came! But out they came again--that is
-the bigger ones did--and then Mr. Thingumbob talked to them about
-growing to be men and women. It was a little sermon in short words,
-but I don’t think they will forget it--for it was about a Boy who did
-what his father and mother wanted him to do, who learned his father’s
-business and worked to help the family along, who always did good to
-others, who tried to be a boy and yet to do like grown-up folks all the
-while. And by this time all the boys and girls knew how it seemed to
-play at big people, and make calls, and hear sermons, and do good.
-
-Then, they all went to bed and slept like tops.
-
-And they talk there to this day about it. And isn’t it funny?--the
-Queer Church people actually have fixed some of the seats in front
-low enough for the little folks, and they are very proud to see them
-sitting there like small men and women. And every now and then Queer
-Church has a sermon in short words, and a prayer-meeting where the
-children swarm on Mr. Thingumbob’s chair, and a sewing-club of little
-girls--O, and ever so many strange nice things for children, that came
-of that week of playing at big people.
-
-And when you ask the folks there “What does Mrs. Grundy say?” and “How
-does Mr. Gradgrind take it?” what do you think they answer?
-
-Why, they just say “We don’t care. We want the children to grow up to
-love the church and to love things that are good.”
-
-Wouldn’t you like to go to Queer Church and make a week of it?
-
-
-
-
-THE FUN-AND-FROLIC ART SCHOOL.
-
-BY STANLEY WOOD.
-
-
-Cousin Joe had been sitting half asleep over a book in the library,
-when all at once the door opened just a little and a row of eyes peeped
-in at him, the eyes beginning somewhere near the top of the door and
-ending pretty close to the bottom. There were just five of these eyes;
-the one nearest the top being large and of a lovely soft brown color,
-the next one gray, the next one brown, the next blue, and the last one
-away down towards the bottom, a mischievous brown.
-
-“Peep!” said a voice, which matched the mischievous brown eye, and a
-fat little hand was thrust in through the crack.
-
-“May we come in?” asked a soft voice, which sounded near the top of the
-door.
-
-“Certainly,” said Joe, shutting his book and trying to look as though
-he had not been half asleep over it. The door opened, and the cousins
-marched in. First came Bryant, a chubby five-year-old, with sturdy
-legs, a large head, yellow hair and brown eyes full of mischief, next
-to him Leefee, seven years old, slight of figure, a little lady with
-light hair and sky-blue eyes; then Adale, ten years old, her brown hair
-flying and her brown eyes dancing; after her Maud, only fourteen, but
-quite a young lady for all that, with serious gray eyes, and last of
-all, Cora, a slender young woman of seventeen with soft brown hair and
-eyes.
-
-“Ladies and gentleman,” said cousin Joe, when they all stood before
-him, “to what do I owe the honor of this visit?”
-
-“Your Royal Highness,” replied Maud, who had read one of Sir Walter
-Scott’s novels, “we have a humble petition to present, in which--”
-
-“My top’s broked,” interrupted Bryant, suddenly.
-
-“And we want you to tell us a story,” said Adale with eagerness.
-
-“Have you learned your lessons, Adale?” asked cousin Joe, very solemnly.
-
-“Oh yes, indeed.”
-
-“Where is Terra del Fuego?”
-
-“But cousin, I study geography only five days in the week; you can’t
-expect me to know where Terra del Fuego is on Saturday.”
-
-“Really, I hadn’t thought of that.”
-
-“And you’ll tell us a story?” said Leefee.
-
-“One we haven’t heard before,” suggested Adale.
-
-“My top’s broked,” said Bryant with much emphasis.
-
-“Friends,” said cousin Joe, “the demand for new stories is in great
-excess of the supply. When I finished telling you my last story,
-Adale there remarked that she had read that story in WIDE AWAKE. Now
-there’s a moral in that remark of Adale’s, for when my friends and
-fellow-citizens have grown old enough to read stories they are too old
-for me to tell them to.”
-
-“Oh, cousin!”
-
-“But, I’ll compromise with you; instead of a story I’ll give you a
-drawing-lesson.”
-
-“I get drawing-lessons enough at school,” said Adale.
-
-“I didn’t know you could draw, cousin Joe,” said Clara.
-
-“I can’t; and that’s the beauty of my system. The teacher doesn’t need
-to know anything about drawing, and the students never learn anything.”
-
-“How absurd!” said Cora.
-
-“How curious!” said Maud.
-
-“How pleasant!” said Adale.
-
-“How funny!” said Leefee.
-
-“My top’s broked,” said Bryant.
-
-“The class will come to order,” said cousin Joe.
-
-Then they all gathered around the library-table, and each one was
-provided with a pencil and a bit of paper.
-
-“Students of the Fun-and-Frolic Art School,” said Joe, “we have met for
-mutual deterioration in art. As you all ought to know, but no doubt
-many of you do not, Sir Edward Landseer was a great artist in dogs,
-Rosa Bonheur is a great artist in horses and kine, but we unitedly
-will be great artists in--pigs.”
-
-“Pigs?”
-
-“Yes, ladies and gentleman, I repeat it--PIGS! Is there anyone in the
-class who can draw a pig?”
-
-“I can draw one, such as the boys draw on their slates at school,” said
-Adale.
-
-“Please draw one then,” said cousin Joe. In a moment Adale had
-accomplished the task and handed him the result.
-
-“This,” said Joe, as he held it up in view of the class, “this is
-
-[Illustration: THE CONVENTIONAL PIG.]
-
-“You see it doesn’t look like a pig, but every boy knows it is intended
-to represent a pig. If it looked a good deal more like a pig he might
-not recognize it. Thus conventional politeness does not resemble real
-politeness, yet everybody knows what it is intended to represent. There
-is a moral in that remark somewhere--if you can find it--and now we’ll
-go on with the lesson. The first thing you must do in order to become
-an artist in my school is to _shut your eyes_.”
-
-“Shut our eyes!”
-
-“Why, cousin,” said Cora, “I thought all artists had to keep their eyes
-especially wide open.”
-
-“There are some who do not,” said cousin Joe, sententiously.
-
-“I’ve seen people shut _one_ eye and look at pictures through their
-hand with the other--so,” said Adale, making a fist of her little hand
-and peeping through it.
-
-“Those people were _connoisseurs_,” said Joe; “we are artists and must
-shut _both_ eyes, Cora; will you begin? Shut your eyes, place your
-pencil on the paper, and draw the outlines of a pig as nearly as you
-can.”
-
-“But, cousin Joe, isn’t this a play for little girls, not
-for--well--proper young ladies?”
-
-“Very well, Miss Cora; we’ll begin with Leefee then.”
-
-Little Miss Leefee seized her pencil eagerly, and shutting her eyes
-uncommonly close, drew this:
-
-[Illustration: THIS IS A PIG.]
-
-How the rest did laugh at poor Leefee!
-
-“You’ll have to write under it, ‘This is a pig,’” said Adale.
-
-“And I will do it too,” said Leefee, and she did so, as you can see by
-the picture.
-
-“It’s your turn now, Adale,” said Joe.
-
-“This will be a conventional pig, like my other one,” said Adale,
-laughing as she shut her eyes. When she had finished her drawing,
-all confessed, amidst great laughter, that it was not at all a
-“conventional pig;” so Adale wrote under her production:
-
-[Illustration: “THIS IS AN UNCONVENTIONAL PIG.”]
-
-“It looks more like a tapir than a pig,” said Leefee, mindful of
-Adale’s criticism on her effort.
-
-“Well, isn’t a tapir a kind of unconventional pig?” replied the artist.
-
-“Your pigs are all too long,” said Maud; “you don’t make them fat
-enough.”
-
-“You can be guided by your own criticism, for you come next after
-Adale,” said cousin Joe, merrily.
-
-Maud drew her pig with great care. “There!” said she, as she displayed
-the result of her labors, “what do you think of that?”
-
-[Illustration: MAUD’S FAT PIG.]
-
-“Oh what a funny rabbit!” exclaimed Adale.
-
-“It’s more like a rat,” said Leefee.
-
-“It _must_ be a pig,” said Maud firmly, “I’m drawing pigs.”
-
-In the mean time Miss Cora, who had declined to enter into such
-childish sport, had been closely observed by Adale. Suddenly that
-versatile young lady seized Cora’s paper before she could prevent it,
-and exclaiming with a triumphant flourish, “Cora’s pig! Oh, _do_ look
-at Cora’s pig!” she displayed this:
-
-[Illustration: CORA’S FEROCIOUS PIG.]
-
-Cora blushingly acknowledged that she had been induced by the
-enthusiasm of the others to try and improve on their efforts.
-
-“What a fierce-looking quadruped,” said Maud.
-
-“Yes; I have called it my ferocious pig,” replied Cora, evidently
-greatly enjoying her production.
-
-“Ladies and gentleman of the Fun-and-frolic Art School,” said
-cousin Joe, oratorically, “your incapacity has exceeded my highest
-expectations. Your efforts to draw the lineaments of the domestic
-animal known as the pig having exceeded in grotesqueness and falseness
-to nature the efforts of many more experienced artists, I am naturally
-very much gratified. I now have the honor to announce to you that
-‘school’s out.’”
-
-“Oh not yet, cousin.”
-
-“Not yet?”
-
-“No; _you_ must draw a pig,” said Maud.
-
-“You must draw a pig,” said Adale.
-
-“You must draw a pig,” said Leefee.
-
-“My top’s broked,” said Bryant.
-
-“Necessity knows no law,” said cousin Joe.
-
-“Bring me my pencil now, my hand feels skilful, and the shadows lift
-from my waked spirit airily and swift,” and with an air of vast
-importance he began to execute his task. The little cousins were
-so fearful that he would take a sly peep at his work, that they
-blindfolded him, and his production was received with shouts of
-laughter. When they took off his muffler he saw this:
-
-[Illustration: THE ACEPHALOUS OR ONE-EYED PIG.]
-
-“_Oh_ what a bad pig,” said Cora.
-
-“Oh _what_ a bad pig,” said Maud.
-
-“Oh what a _bad_ pig,” said Adale.
-
-“Oh what a bad _pig_,” said Leefee.
-
-“My top--”
-
-“Shall be mended,” said cousin Joe, taking little Bryant upon his knee.
-
-
-
-
-SOME QUAKER BOYS OF 1776.
-
-BY C. H. WOODMAN.
-
-
-In 1776, the eastern end of Long Island was over-run with the English
-troops and mercenaries. There was no security to life or property:
-everything was at the mercy of the wicked Hessians.
-
-At this time there was living on the island, and not far from New York,
-a Quaker by the name of Pattison. Henry Pattison, the father, was one
-of the strictest of the sect; of a noble, generous nature, a kind
-neighbor, and a wise councilor. He was universally loved and revered.
-He won the name of the Peace-Maker.
-
-He owned a fine farm, and was growing wealthy, when the war came and
-sad days settled down upon the community.
-
-Mother Pattison was the true type of the Quaker wife and mother.
-Under her tidy white cap beamed the placid, tender face which is so
-common among these pure-hearted people, and her skillful advice and
-winning words of consolation were often heard in the house of the sick
-and afflicted. Eight sturdy boys, and one little sweet, timid flower
-of a daughter, blessed this good couple, and made their home one of
-happiness and love.
-
-Edmund, the oldest son, was a handsome, manly lad of eighteen. Beneath
-his broad-brimmed hat, his quiet “thee” and “thou,” beat a fiery and
-fearless heart that often broke through the mild Quaker training and
-made him, notwithstanding his peace principles, a leader among his
-fellows.
-
-One day, as he sat in the barn, quietly enjoying his noonday rest, a
-British trooper rode up to the door. Seeing Edmund he shouted:
-
-“Come, youngster, make haste and stir yourself. Go and help my driver
-there unload that cart of timber into the road!”
-
-Now Edmund had just been hard at work loading that wood, to carry it to
-a neighbor to whom it was sold.
-
-Both wagon and oxen belonged to his father.
-
-“Come, hurry!” said the horseman.
-
-“I shall not do it!” said Edmund.
-
-“What--sirrah!” cried the ruffian, “we shall see who will do it!” and
-he flourished his sword over the boy’s head, swearing and threatening
-to cut him down unless he instantly obeyed.
-
-[Illustration: “SEEKING FOR SOME FIRM SPOT OF ENTRANCE”--PAGE 82.]
-
-Edmund stood unflinchingly, fiercely eyeing the enraged soldier.
-
-Just then a little boy, Charles, the son of a neighbor, ran into the
-house and told Mrs. Pattison that “a Britisher was going to kill her
-Edmund.” She rushed to the barn, begged the soldier to stop, pleaded
-with her son to unload the wood and so save his life.
-
-“No fear of death, mother; he dare not touch a hair of my head.”
-
-“Dare not!” The horseman flourished his sword before the lad’s face and
-swore he would kill him instantly.
-
-“You dare not!” said Edmund firmly; “and I will report you to your
-master for this.”
-
-The fierce and defiant look really awed the trooper, and he mounted
-his horse, although he still told the boy he would “cut him into inch
-pieces.”
-
-Edmund knew that such things were actually done by the soldiers, and
-he appreciated the man’s terrible rage. He coolly walked across the
-barn-floor, and armed himself with a huge pitchfork.
-
-“You cowardly rascal!”--the boy’s words came fierce and sharp. “Now
-take one step towards this floor, and I stab you with my pitchfork.”
-
-The gentle Mrs. Pattison expected to see her boy at once shot down like
-a dog. She ran to the house, and, meeting her husband, sent him to the
-rescue.
-
-Friend Pattison rode hastily up, and said calmly to the trooper:
-
-“You have no right to lay a finger upon that boy, who is a
-non-combatant.”
-
-The man did not move.
-
-Then Farmer Pattison turned toward the road, saying he would ride and
-call Col. Wurms, who commanded the troops.
-
-Upon this the horseman, thinking it best for him to see his master
-first, drove the spurs into his horse and galloped away, uttering vows
-of vengeance.
-
-The little boy who had alarmed Mrs. Pattison was a lad of
-fourteen,--the son of a neighbor who was in Washington’s army.
-
-Sitting one day under the trees, with the little Pattisons, talking
-indignantly of the “British thieves,” he saw a light-horseman ride up
-toward a farm-house just across the pond. He guessed at once what the
-man was after. He tried to signal the farmer, but in vain.
-
-“They are pressing horses,” cried Charlie; “they always ride that way
-when stealing horses.”
-
-He thought of his father’s beautiful colt, his own pet.
-
-“Fleetwood shall not go!” said he.
-
-Running as fast as he could to the barn, he leaped on to his back, and
-started for the woods.
-
-The red-coat saw him, and, putting his spurs into his horse, rising in
-the saddle and shouting, he tore down the road at headlong speed.
-
-Charlie’s mother rushed to the door. She saw her little son galloping
-towards the woods with his murderous enemy close upon his heels. Her
-heart beat fearfully, and she gave one great cry of prayer as her brave
-little boy dashed into the thick woods, and out of sight, still hotly
-pursued by the soldier.
-
-The trees were close-set and the branches low. Charlie laid down along
-the horse’s neck to escape being swept off. He cheered on, with low
-cries, the wild colt, who stretched himself full length at every leap.
-
-With streaming mane, glaring eyes, distended nostrils, he plunged
-onward. Charlie heard the dead dry boughs crackling behind, and the
-snorting of the soldier’s horse, so near was his fierce pursuer. On, on
-Fleetwood dashed, bearing his little master from one piece of woods to
-another, till the forest became dense and dark. He had now gained some
-on the soldier; and, seeing ahead a tangled, marshy thicket, Charlie
-rode right into its midst.
-
-Here he stood five hours without moving.
-
-The soldier, so much heavier with his horse, dared not venture into the
-swamp. He rode round and round, seeking for some firm spot of entrance.
-Sometimes he did come very near; but every time sinking into the wet,
-springy bog he was obliged to give it up; he could not even get a shot
-at the boy, the brush was so thick, Fleetwood instinctively still as a
-mouse, and finally, with loud oaths, he rode off.
-
-But the lad and the colt still stood there hour after hour, not knowing
-whether they might venture out; but at nightfall his mother, who had
-been watching all the while, with tears and prayers, saw her dear boy
-cautiously peeping through the edge of the woods. By signs she let
-him know that the danger was past, and, riding up to the house, he
-dismounted. Then, leaning against his beautiful colt, his own bright,
-golden curls mingling with Fleetwood’s ebon mane, the plucky little
-fellow told his adventures to the eager group.
-
-The Quaker neighbors in this vicinity had at last been driven, by the
-outrages of the hostile troops, to use some means of defense. They
-agreed that, whenever a house should be attacked, the family would fire
-a gun, which would be answered by firing from other houses, and so the
-neighborhood become aroused.
-
-But Farmer Pattison so abhorred the use of a gun that he would have
-none in his house. He procured a conch-shell which, when well blown,
-could be heard a great way.
-
-One night, while Charlie’s family were all soundly sleeping, and,
-without, the clear November air was unstirred by a breath of wind,
-suddenly the grum report of the conch boomed in at the windows and
-alarmed the whole house.
-
-[Illustration]
-
-Wakened so unceremoniously, all thought it was a gun; but no one could
-tell whence it came. The venerable grandfather knelt in prayer; the
-sick English officer, staring at the house, ordered his two guards to
-prepare for defence; the mother sat trembling, while the two little
-girls, Grace and Marcia, hid their faces in their mother’s night-dress.
-
-But our Charlie was brave. He loaded the old firearm, and, going
-down to the piazza blazed away, loading and firing, to frighten away
-the unseen foe. Through the still air could be heard the guns of the
-neighbors, all aroused to defend their homes.
-
-But no burning building could be seen, nor were there any shouts or
-noises of conflict.
-
-The alarm subsided, but for the rest of the night the little family sat
-anxious and waited for the dawn. In the morning they learned the cause
-of the alarm. It seems that at noon, the day before, the Pattison boys
-were trying their lungs on the conch, calling the hired men to dinner.
-
-Little Joseph stood by, waiting his turn, but it didn’t come. Dinner
-was ready, and the shell was put away on the shelf over the kitchen
-door. The little fellow’s disappointment was great, and that night he
-dreamed of robbers, of English soldiers and burning houses. He dreamed
-that he must blow the shell.
-
-Up he jumped, ran down stairs, and through two rooms, still asleep,
-and, standing in a chair, got the conch from the shelf. Going to the
-back door he blew it lustily, and aroused the whole family. They rushed
-down-stairs in great alarm, and there stood the little boy, bareheaded
-and in his nightgown, while great drops of perspiration stood on his
-face, from the exertions he had made!
-
-
-
-
-WHAT I HEARD ON THE STREET.
-
-BY CLARA F. GUERNSEY.
-
-
-Not long ago, while I was waiting for the cars at a street corner, I
-heard two men talking together. The one was a young fellow of nineteen
-or so, a big, tall youth, whose appearance would have been pleasing had
-he not worn, in addition to a general air of discouragement, that look
-of being on the down-hill road, which, once seen, is unmistakable.
-
-His clothes were sufficiently good in quality, but they seemed never
-to have known the clothes-brush, his coat lacked four or five buttons,
-for which three pins were a very inadequate substitute, and he had an
-aspect generally of having forgotten the use of soap and water.
-
-Perhaps all this might not have been his fault. It is possible he had
-no womankind belonging to him, though I don’t hold that an excuse for
-missing buttons, and his work might have been such as bred fluffiness
-and griminess, but no man’s work obliges him to slouch when off duty,
-to keep his hands in his pockets, or tilt his hat on one side.
-
-The other man was a brisk, middle-aged person, whom I take to have been
-a worker in iron in one way or another. He had on his working-dress,
-and his hands were black, but the blackness in his case was a mere
-outside necessity, and went no farther than the surface. He looked
-bright and sensible, and it was in a pleasant voice that he asked the
-younger man:
-
-“Well, Jim, got a place?”
-
-Jim gave a weary, discouraged sigh, and shifted from one foot to the
-other.
-
-“Yes, I’m in Blank’s, but I might as well not be.”
-
-“Why?”
-
-“Oh,” returned Jim, in a forlorn manner, “what’s the use? I work all
-the week, and when Saturday night comes, there’s just five dollars.
-What’s that? Why, it’s _just nothing_.”
-
-“No, it ain’t,” replied the senior, laying a kindly hand on the other’s
-shoulder. “It’s _just five dollars better than nothing_. Put it that
-way, Jim.”
-
-“Well, now, that’s so,” said Jim, brightening up wonderfully after a
-minute’s thought. “It does make it seem different, don’t it?” And he
-walked off, apparently much comforted.
-
-If you think of it, Reader, you will see that the difference between
-five dollars and nothing is infinitely greater than that between five
-and five thousand.
-
-
-
-
-[Illustration]
-
-KIP’S MINISTER.
-
-BY KATE W. HAMILTON.
-
-
-“‘_Jack and Jill went up the hill_,’” piped Bud’s shrill voice from the
-hayloft in the barn where she was hunting eggs. “‘_To fetch a pail of
-water. Jack fell down and broke his crown, And Jill_----’”
-
-If Bud’s own name had been Jill she could not have come “tumbling
-after,” any more speedily than she did. A board tilted, her foot
-slipped, and in a moment she was sitting on the floor below.
-Fortunately a quantity of hay had fallen with her, so there was no
-broken crown or other crushed bones; but her dignity was considerably
-jarred, and glancing around to see whether any one had witnessed the
-mishap, she discovered Kip looking out toward the road from a door at
-the farther end of the building.
-
-“Kip Crail! what makes you stand there for?” she demanded, severely.
-
-“I’m a-watching my minister,” answered Kip slowly.
-
-It is not every boy who owns a minister all by himself, but Kip spoke
-as if nobody else had any claim upon this one; and as he seemed to
-have noticed neither her tone nor her downfall, Bud regained her
-chubby feet, shook the hay from her yellow curls, and going to Kip’s
-side looked curiously after the slightly grey-haired man, in clothing
-somewhat worn, who was quietly picking his way along the road.
-Her blue eyes discerned nothing remarkable, and she turned away
-disappointed.
-
-“Ho! Why he’s everybody’s minister; he a’n’t yours.”
-
-Kip knew better than that. Did not he remember who always knew him,
-and stopped to shake hands and say “How do you do, Christopher?”--a
-name that made him feel nearly as big as anybody. And who always asked
-after his mother? And did not forget when he told him little Bob was
-sick? The people in the house hitched up their sleek horses and nice
-carriage, and drove two miles to the city church every Sunday; but Kip,
-with freckled face shining from soap, head wet and combed till not a
-hair could stir from its place, and red hands thrust into his pockets,
-trudged whistling over the hill to the little frame church where most
-of the people from the straggling villages and the neighboring farms
-gathered.
-
-“So he is my minister,” said Kip stoutly as he considered the matter.
-
-He would have liked to share the honor that day, however, with the
-inmates of the large comfortable farm-house; for they were really
-the most prosperous family in the village, while he, only a distant
-relative, was “chore boy and gener’ly useful” as he phrased it. And
-there was to be a “donation party” at his minister’s home that very
-evening.
-
-“If they’d just give something handsome!” he said to Nancy the “hired
-girl,” who was busy in the kitchen.
-
-“They won’t never think of it no more’n they will of flyin’,” replied
-Nancy, dextrously turning a flapjack, and the subject also, by
-requesting Kip to “run for an armful of wood.”
-
-Somebody always wanted wood or water, or something from the cellar, or
-something from the attic, whenever Kip was in sight. But he scarcely
-thought of the constant calls that morning, so full was he of other
-thoughts. Nancy might dispose of the question carelessly, but he could
-not. He was connected with the house, and he felt that the honor of the
-house was involved. Beside, he wanted his minister well treated and he
-knew--few knew better than Kip--how sorely the “something handsome”
-was needed in the shabby little parsonage. He did not mean they should
-“never think of it” as Nancy had said! he would remind them by bringing
-up the subject naturally and innocently in some way.
-
-So he lingered in the room a few minutes after breakfast, while Mrs.
-Mitchel was gathering up the dishes, and Mr. Mitchel consulting the
-almanac. He coughed once or twice, and then, staring straight out of
-the window, observed as follows:
-
-“There goes our big rooster! He’s most as big as a turkey, a’n’t he,
-Aunt Ann? Turkeys always make me think of Thanksgivings, Christmases,
-Donations and such things--oh yes! there _is_ going to be a donation
-down to the minister’s to-night!”
-
-Kip considered that very delicately and neatly done!
-
-“Eh? what?” said Mrs. Mitchel, paying no attention except to the last
-sentence.
-
-“Who’s going to have a donation?”
-
-“Down to the minister’s,” repeated Kip. “Everybody’ll take ’em things,
-you know--flour and potatoes and wood--something handsome, I hope--the
-folks that can ’ford to.”
-
-That was another masterly hint. Kip chuckled to himself at his success
-in managing his self-appointed task but his spirits sank with Mr.
-Mitchel’s first words.
-
-“Well, now, I don’t know as I approve of that way. The folks here can
-do as they please--it’s no affair of mine--but seems to me it’s better
-to pay a man a decent salary, and let him buy his own things.”
-
-“Don’t know as _I_ ’prove of that way either,” soliloquized Kip
-indignantly when he found himself alone behind the wood-pile. “Don’t
-know as I ’prove of folks giving me their old clothes,” looking down
-at his patched knees. “Seems to me ’twould be better to pay me decent
-wages and let me buy my own clothes. But seein’ they don’t, these
-trousers are better’n none; and I guess if Uncle Ralph had a sick wife
-and three or four children he’d think a donation party was a good deal
-better’n nothing.”
-
-Ideas that found their way into the brain under Kip’s thatch of light
-hair were sure to stay, and the cows, the chickens, and the wood-pile
-heard numerous orations that morning--all upon one subject.
-
-“Now if I owned all these things, do you s’pose I’d go off to the big
-city church every Sunday, and wouldn’t go down now and then to see what
-was a-doin’ for the poor folks round here? And when I went, don’t you
-s’pose I’d see how his coat was gettin’ shinier and shinier, and her
-cloak fadeder, and all the new clothes they have is their old ones made
-over? A boy don’t like that kind of dressin’-up partic’lar well, and
-how do you s’pose my minister feels? Don’t you b’lieve I’d know when
-she got sick, how the bundles from the grocery-store was smaller and
-fewer ’count of the bottles that had to be paid for and the doctor’s
-bill? And wouldn’t I hear the tremble in his voice when he prays for
-them that has ‘heavy burdens to carry?’ Just wait till I’m a man and
-see!”
-
-Old Brindle looked at him meditatively, and one pert little bantam
-mounted the fence and crowed with enthusiasm, but no member of
-the barn-yard offered any suggestions; and going to a little nook
-behind the manger, Kip drew forth his own offering for the important
-evening--a little bracket-shelf, clumsily designed and roughly whittled
-out, but nevertheless the work of many a precious half-hour. He looked
-at it rather doubtfully. It did not altogether satisfy even his limited
-conceptions of beauty.
-
-“But then if you keep it kind of in the shade, and look at it sort
-o’sideways--so--it does pretty well,” he said, scrutinizing it with one
-eye closed. “I guess Mis’ Clay will, seein’ she’s had to look sharp for
-the best side o’things so long.”
-
-But how he did wish the others would send something--“something that
-would count,” as he said. He was down on the ground gathering up a
-basketful of chips when one of the well-kept horses and the light
-wagon passed out of the yard and down the lane bearing Mr. Mitchel away
-to the town. A host of brilliant possibilities suddenly trooped through
-Kip’s thoughts as he watched the vehicle out of sight. His wish grew
-into something deeper and stronger.
-
-“Oh please _do_ make him think and bring back something nice for them!”
-he murmured.
-
-Bud, who had a fashion of appearing in the most unexpected times and
-places, looked at him wonderingly from around a corner of the wood-pile.
-
-“What makes you do that for?” she asked solemnly.
-
-“’Cause,” answered Kip briefly, with a flush rising to his freckled
-cheeks. “I don’t care,” he whispered to himself. “The minister’s folks
-are good and care for other folks, and it’s ’bout time somebody was
-takin’ care of them.”
-
-Bud did not quite accept the lucid explanation given her. She seated
-herself on a log and pondered the subject until she reached a
-conclusion that she considered satisfactory; and after that, though
-she said nothing about it, she watched quite as eagerly and much more
-expectantly for her father’s return than did Kip.
-
-There certainly was something new and unusual in the light wagon when
-at last it drove up to the door again. Both children discovered that
-at once--Bud from the window, Kip from the piazza--a great, easy,
-luxurious arm-chair. Mr. Mitchel lifted it out and carried it into the
-house.
-
-“See here! What do you think of that?” he said to his wife
-triumphantly. “I happened into a furniture store where they were
-auctioning everything off and I got this at such a bargain that I took
-it in a hurry. Isn’t that as comfortable a chair as you ever saw? Just
-try it.”
-
-Mrs. Mitchel examined and admired; Nancy who came to the kitchen door
-exclaimed and interjected; and the household generally bestowed such
-unqualified commendation that Mr. Mitchel’s gratification increased.
-
-“I think I know a good thing when I see it,” he declared, “and this
-couldn’t be bought anywhere else for that money. Nothing in the world
-the matter with it either, not a flaw about it except”--showing where
-the back could be lowered to make it more of a reclining chair--“this
-spring works a little hard. But a cabinet-maker could fix that in a few
-moments, and we’ll have it done right away. Kip!” as the boy passed the
-door--“Kip, could you take this down to the parson’s this afternoon? I
-want it to go at once.”
-
-Kip could scarcely believe his ears. “Yes _sir_!” he said with his eyes
-fairly dancing. “You mean to send it to him, uncle Ralph? guess I can
-take it!”
-
-He never called his minister “the parson”--it scarcely sounded
-respectful enough--but of course he knew who was meant and he was
-far too happy for any criticising thought. That handsome easy chair!
-Wouldn’t the very sight of it rest poor tired Mrs. Clay? Kip could see
-just how her pale face would look leaned back against the cushions.
-
-[Illustration: “AND JILL CAME TUMBLING AFTER.”]
-
-“It’s pretty heavy for you to carry so far though,” Mr. Mitchel was
-saying when Kip recalled his wandering wits far enough to understand.
-“’Jim could take it in the wagon perhaps”--
-
-“I might put it in the hand-cart and wheel it over,” interposed Kip
-with a sudden inspiration. He could bear no delay, and he wanted to
-take it himself.
-
-Mr. Mitchel commended that suggestion as “not a bad notion on Kip’s
-part.”
-
-“And what shall I tell him, uncle Ralph?”
-
-“Tell him--why, he’ll understand; he can see for himself. Tell him I
-sent it, and he’ll know what to do with it, I suppose.”
-
-Kip supposed so too. He waited for no further directions, but made
-a partial toilet very expeditiously, and was soon safely out on the
-road with his treasure. To say that he was pleased and proud is a
-very faint description of his feelings. He trundled that hand-cart by
-no out-of-the-way route, and he was not long alone; the village boys
-hailed him:
-
-“Hello, Kip! What you got there?”
-
-“It’s our folks’ present to the minister,” answered Kip grandly, and
-one after another the admiring boys fell into line until the chair
-formed the center of a triumphal procession. The village soon knew of
-the gift, as the village always did know of everything that happened
-within its limits, and Kip had the satisfaction of being stopped
-several times, and of hearing that Mr. Mitchel had done “the handsome
-thing,” and that the chair was “out-and-out nice.”
-
-So, in a beatific state, he reached the gate of the little parsonage.
-There was no lack of assistance. Every urchin was anxious to share at
-least the reflected glory of helping to carry it, and it was borne to
-the house very much as a party of ants bear off a lump of sugar--by
-swarming all over it. The minister came to the door, the body-guard
-fell back, and Kip presented his prize.
-
-“Here’s something that Uncle Ralph sent you, sir; he bought it in town
-to-day. He said tell you he sent it, and he guessed you’d know what to
-do with it,” he said with shining eyes.
-
-The minister’s eyes shone too, and then grew dim. This was so
-unexpected, and it meant so much to him! It had sometimes seemed hard
-to that kindly, tender heart that the one of all the village who could
-have done most, had never manifested any interest in his work for those
-poor people--had not lifted with even a finger the burden of care and
-sacrifice, or shown any disposition to aid or encourage. But there
-must have been sympathy after all. This was a generous gift in its
-luxuriousness--a thoughtful one, for it was for the dear invalid. He
-opened a door near him and said softly:
-
-“Rachel, look here!”
-
-How he had wanted just such an easy, restful cushioned niche for the
-worn slight form! The boys could not understand what it was to him in
-itself and in what it represented--“Only his voice had a tremble in it
-like when he prays,” Kip said to himself on his homeward way.
-
-However he hated “fixed up company” in general he would not for
-anything miss the gathering at the parsonage that evening, and wood and
-water, cows and kindlings must be looked after early. So it happened
-he did not speak with Mr. Mitchel again until nightfall. Then that
-gentleman bethought him of his commission.
-
-“Ah, Kip, carried the chair safely, did you?”
-
-“Yes sir.”
-
-“Well, what did he say to it?”
-
-“I wish you’d seen him, uncle Ralph!” said Kip radiantly. “Not, as he
-said much either, only something ’bout he didn’t know how to thank
-you--”
-
-“How to thank me?” repeated Mr. Mitchel in amazement. “Why should he?
-He isn’t so short of work as all that, is he?”
-
-“Short of work, uncle Ralph!” It was Kip’s turn to open wide eyes
-of astonishment. “I should think not, with all his preachin’ and
-Sunday-school and poor folks! I don’t s’pose he thought he’d have time
-to sit in it much himself; but Mrs. Clay, she’s sick--”
-
-“What have the Clays to do with it?” demanded Mr. Mitchel with clouding
-brow and a dawning suspicion of something wrong. “I told you to take it
-to Mr. Parsons--the cabinet-maker’s--to have that spring fixed.”
-
-Kip saw it all then, but he wished the floor would quietly open and
-drop him into the cellar, or that he could fly through the roof. He
-thrust his hands deep into his pockets, and his face flushed and paled.
-
-“I--thought--you said the parson’s,” he stammered. “I s’posed ’twas for
-the minister’s donation, and so--”
-
-“You took it there?” Mr. Mitchel completed the sentence. “Now how in
-the world--”
-
-But it was too much to be borne. Kip waited for nothing more, but
-rushed from the house, and if in the shadow of the friendly wood-pile
-he leaned his head against the rough sticks and cried, there was no one
-to see.
-
-“They may fix it up any way they please,” he said. “I can’t do it! I
-can’t and I wont!”
-
-A little later he stood by the old gate watching the great yellow moon
-come up, and digging his red fists into his eyes now and then to wipe
-away some stray tears of shame, indignation and grief that still
-gathered there. This was not a very nice world anyhow, he decided with
-a queer aching spot at his heart. Almost it seemed as if he had asked
-for bread and received a stone--a sharp heavy stone at that.
-
-Indoors Mr. Mitchel had expressed very distinctly his opinion of the
-carelessness and obtuseness that could have caused such a blunder, and
-the “awkwardness of the whole thing,” and in no little vexation was
-trying to find some means of remedy.
-
-“I might write a note and explain, but then--I declare it’s the most
-awkward disagreeable thing I ever knew! Such a stupid blunder.”
-
-“Papa,” interposed the slow, wondering voice of Bud, “I didn’t know
-there could be any mistakes up there.”
-
-“Up where, child?”
-
-“In heaven. Kip prayed you’d bring something for his minister--’cause
-I heard him--behind the wood-pile,” said Bud with slow emphasis. “I
-thought that made the chair come. I’m most sure ’twasn’t any mistake,
-papa.”
-
-Mr. Mitchel pushed aside pen and paper, put on his hat and walked out.
-He really did not know the best way out of the difficulty. It was very
-vexatious, and in his perplexity he journeyed towards the parsonage.
-When he came in sight of the house he paused. What did he intend to do?
-Go there when others were making their offerings, and explain that he
-had not wished to show any friendship or appreciation, and wanted to
-take back what had been proffered through mistake? Certainly not! He
-turned, but at that moment some one joined him.
-
-“Ah, Mr. Mitchel! Just going in? That was a generous gift of
-yours--exactly the thing for poor Mrs. Clay.”
-
-Others came with similar comment. There was no chance to say anything,
-and scarcely knowing why or how, Mr. Mitchel found himself in the
-well-filled room, saw the sweet, pale face, with its smile of welcome
-for all, looking out from the cushions of the new chair, and felt the
-quick warm grateful clasp of the minister’s hand. Something in look and
-clasp and murmured words brought a sudden throb to Mr. Mitchel’s heart,
-a moisture to his eye.
-
-Then, before he had time to recover from his bewilderment, some one
-had called on him to “make a few remarks,” and others echoed the
-request, and he found himself pushed forward to the front and heard
-his own voice saying, “How much cause all had to value Mr. Clay’s work
-in the village,” and expressing the hope that he might “enjoy these
-simple offerings as tokens of esteem and friendship.” Aye, and he
-meant it too, for catching the spirit of those around him, and swiftly
-comprehending more of the good man’s life and work than he had ever
-done before, he only regretted that he had not sent the offering of his
-own free will and pleasure.
-
-He found an opportunity, however, to whisper to Kip who had slipped in
-later with very sober face--a face that brightened at sight of him.
-
-“It’s all right. Don’t say a word to anybody about it.”
-
-He had a pleasant evening despite a feeling of strangeness about it,
-and on his homeward way muttered something to himself about “a blessed
-blunder.” What he told at home Kip did not know, but when the boy
-arrived, a little later, Bud, wide-awake and listening for his step,
-raised her yellow head from its pillow and called:
-
-“Ke--ip! it all comed out right, didn’t it?”
-
-Kip thought it had. He was sure of it afterward when he saw the
-friendship that from that night began between the Mitchels and “his
-minister.”
-
-[Illustration]
-
-
-
-
-JIM’S TROUBLES.
-
-BY GRANDMERE JULIE.
-
-
-[Illustration: Spot.]
-
-“I know he didn’t do it,” said good Mrs. Martin; “he says he didn’t do
-it, and I believe him.”
-
-“Then you don’t believe _me_?” asked Mrs. Turner rather severely. “I
-wish I had never seen that boy! I’m sure I have done my best by him,
-and been a mother to him. And now he’s turned out bad, everybody blames
-me for it. Father says, if he has done it, it is my fault for tempting
-him; Nelly has nearly cried her eyes out about it; and everybody seems
-to think it is more wicked to lose a spoon than to steal it--I declare
-they do.”
-
-“Well, he’s been a good, honest boy ever since he came here--a real
-nice, obliging, pleasant spoken little fellow; and it stands to reason
-a good boy don’t turn bad all in a jerk like that,” said Mrs. Martin,
-shaking her head.
-
-“I don’t know about jerks,” answered Mrs. Turner, “but I do know that,
-as soon as I had done cleaning that spoon, I put it back in the case,
-and as I was a-going to put it away, Jim comes in to get a pail, and
-says he, ‘ain’t it a pretty little box!’ and says I: ‘yes, but what’s
-in it is prettier.’ Then I smelt my bread a-burning, and I put down the
-case right here,” said Mrs. Turner striking the corner of her kitchen
-table, “and I ran to see to my bread, and when I came back Jim was
-gone, and my spoon was gone too. And I don’t suppose it walked off
-itself--do you?”
-
-“Of course it didn’t,” said Mrs. Martin; “but some one else might have
-come in, or it may be somewhere”--
-
-“I’d like to know where that somewhere is, then,” said Mrs. Turner; “I
-have looked high and low and turned the house upside-down for a week,
-and I haven’t seen any spoon yet. And nobody could come in without my
-seeing them because the front door was locked and so was the kitchen
-door, and anybody who came in or went out had to go through the back
-kitchen where I was. I saw Jim go out with his pail, but I didn’t
-suspect anything then--why should I? And it isn’t the spoon I mind so
-much, it’s the trouble, and the idea of that boy that had been treated
-like one of the family--but I won’t say anymore about it. I’ll send him
-back to New York, and”--
-
-“No, don’t do that! I guess I’ll take him,” said Mrs. Martin. “He
-hasn’t any home to go to, and if you send him back, there’s no telling
-what will become of him. Where is he?”
-
-“I guess he is sulking about the place somewhere,” said Mrs. Turner.
-“He said he hadn’t done it, and now he won’t say another word. I’ll
-call him if you really want him.”
-
-Mrs. Martin said she really wanted him, and Mrs. Turner, stepping out
-on the kitchen porch, called out, “Jim, Jim!”
-
-There was no answer, but pretty soon a boy walked across the yard
-toward the house, and stopped near the porch.
-
-He was a boy about twelve years old, tall of his age and rather thin,
-and with a round, honest face, which looked very pleasant when he was
-happy, but which was at that moment very much clouded.
-
-“I’ll speak to him by myself, if you don’t mind,” said Mrs. Martin,
-shutting the door and seating herself on the porch step.
-
-“Come here, my boy,” said she kindly, while her homely face looked
-almost beautiful with goodness. “I don’t believe you are a bad boy; I
-think it’s all a mistake, and it will come out all right some day. I am
-going to take you home with me, if you will come.”
-
-Jim’s brown eyes brightened, but he answered, not very gratefully,
-“Thank you, but I’d better go away from here--they all believe I took
-it.”
-
-“No, they don’t; I don’t for one. You had better stay and behave like a
-good, honest lad, and I’ll be a true friend to you. Besides, we mustn’t
-run away from our troubles! you know they are sent to make us good and
-strong, don’t you see, my boy?”
-
-Having finished her little sermon, Mrs. Martin got up and gave Jim a
-motherly hug and a kiss. And poor Jim “broke down” as he would have
-called it. But it was a breaking down that did him a world of good, and
-made a new boy of him.
-
-“There, there,” said Mrs. Martin, “now go and get your things, and we
-will go home.”
-
-Jim went up-stairs quietly to the little attic room that had been
-his own for two years. He made a small bundle of his old clothes. He
-wouldn’t take the new ones. “They was my friends when they got them for
-me,” he said to himself, “but now they ain’t my friends any more, and
-them clothes don’t belong to me now.”
-
-Jim’s grammar was not perfect, but he meant well, and in his heart he
-was very sorry to leave the friends who had been so kind to him during
-two happy years.
-
-As he turned to go down-stairs, he heard a noise in the hall, not far
-from him, and he saw Nellie Turner who seemed to be waiting for him.
-“Oh! Jim,” she said, and could not say more, because she began to cry.
-
-Poor little Nelly had been breaking her heart about Jim’s trouble. She
-was a nice little girl ten years old, with bright yellow curls, pink
-cheeks, and blue eyes; but now the pink of her cheeks had run into her
-eyes, and she did not look as pretty as usual. But Jim thought she was
-beautiful, and her red eyes were a great comfort to him.
-
-At last he spoke, “Good-by, Nelly; I am going away.”
-
-“I know it,” said Nelly, “but, Jim, I don’t believe you are bad, and
-you will be good, won’t you?”
-
-“Yes, I will,” said Jim. Then he left Nelly crying on the stairs, and
-went quickly to the porch where Mrs. Martin was waiting for him.
-
-“Well, good-by, Jim,” said Mrs. Turner. “I hope you’ll be a good boy.
-Remember I have been kind to you.”
-
-“Yes’m, thank you,” said Jim, rather coldly. He wanted to see “Father,”
-but Mr. Turner had taken himself out of the way.
-
-While Mrs. Martin was walking home with her little friend, and talking
-to him to cheer him up, they heard something running after them, and
-Jim said, “Here is Spot, what shall I do? I am afraid I can’t make him
-go back.”
-
-“Well, we’ll take him home, too,” said Mrs. Martin. “I like dogs,
-they are such faithful friends; they don’t care if people are pretty
-or ugly, rich or poor, good or bad, they just love them, and stick to
-them. Yes, we will take Spot, and make him happy.”
-
-This remark made two people very happy. Jim brightened up, and laughed;
-and Spot, who had kept his tail between his legs in a most respectful
-and entreating manner, now began to wag it joyfully, and showed his
-love by nearly knocking down Mrs. Martin, to let her know that he
-understood what she had said, and approved of it.
-
-Spot had been given to Jim by one of his school-mates, and Jim was very
-proud of his only piece of personal property. Spot was a white dog with
-a great many black spots all over him, and he was not exactly a beauty,
-but he was the best, lovingest, naughtiest, and most ridiculous young
-dog that ever adorned this world. He was always stealing bones, and
-old boots and shoes, and burying them in secret places as if they had
-been treasures, and no one had the heart to scold him much, because he
-looked so repentant and as if he would never, no never, do it again as
-long as he lived.
-
-Since the silver spoon had disappeared, Spot had been very unhappy;
-people seemed to give him all the benefit of their disturbed tempers.
-Mrs. Turner spoke crossly to him, and would not let him stay in the
-kitchen; Mr. Turner had slyly kicked him several times; Nelly cried
-over him when he wanted to play, and Jim only patted his head, and
-said, “poor Spot, poor Spot!” by which he meant, “poor Jim, poor
-Jim!” But now Spot felt that a good time was coming, and he rejoiced
-beforehand, like a sensible dog.
-
-And, in truth, a pretty good time did come. Jim was not entirely happy,
-because he could not prove his innocence, but he found that no one had
-been told of his supposed guilt.
-
-Mrs. Turner had not said a word about her missing spoon to any one.
-“I will give him another chance to begin right,” she had said to her
-husband. And Mr. Turner had replied, “I don’t believe he took it any
-more than I did; so what’s the good of making a fuss about nothing?”
-
-No fuss had been made; but Mrs. Turner had said to her little daughter,
-when she started for school the morning after Jim’s departure, “Nelly,
-you must be careful not to say a single word to anybody about Jim. But
-I don’t want you to ask him to come here, and it’s just as well for you
-not to play with him much.”
-
-“It is too bad,” said Nelly. But she was an obedient little girl, and
-the first time Jim came to school, when she saw that he hardly dared to
-look at her she thought that it would be better to tell him the truth.
-
-[Illustration: OPINIONS DIFFER RESPECTING JIM.]
-
-So at recess she called him, and asked him to go with her on the road,
-where no one would hear them; then she said:
-
-“Jim, I want to tell you something. Mamma told me I must not ask you to
-come to the farm any more, and that I must not play with you much, and
-so I won’t do it. But I like you just the same, and I will give you an
-apple every day to say we are friends.”
-
-Nelly was as good as her word. Every morning, at recess, she gave Jim a
-small red and yellow “lady-apple,” which she had rubbed hard to make it
-shine, and which was one of the two apples her father gave her when she
-went to school; and the “lady-apples” were all kept for her, because
-she said they were so good and so pretty--“just like my little girl,”
-Mr. Turner said.
-
-And what do you suppose Jim did with his apples?
-
-Eat them. No, not he!
-
-Every time Nelly gave him an apple, he put it in his pocket and took
-it home. Then in the evening before going to bed, he made a hole in
-it--the apple, not in the bed--and strung it on a piece of twine which
-hung from a nail in the window-sash in his little room.
-
-The poor apples got brown, and wrinkled, and dry, but they were very
-precious to Jim, but every one of them said to him, as plain as an
-apple can speak: “I like you just the same.”
-
-And so the winter passed away quietly. Mrs. Martin became very fond of
-Jim; she said he was so smart and so handy about the house she didn’t
-know what she would do without him, and she didn’t think boys were any
-trouble at all.
-
-But, alas, how little we know what may happen!
-
-Spring had come, and house-cleaning had come with it. Mrs. Martin had a
-nice “best-room” which she never used except for half an hour on Sunday
-afternoons during the summer, and which was always as clean as clean
-can be. But in Spring, it had to be made cleaner, if possible; summer
-could not come till that was done.
-
-So the carpet was taken up, shaken, and put down again, and as Jim had
-helped in the shaking, Mrs. Martin kindly invited him to come in, and
-admire the room.
-
-“What a pretty room it is!” said Jim; “why don’t you live in it?”
-
-“Because it would wear out the carpet, and it is more comfortable in
-the sitting-room;” answered Mrs. Martin. Then she showed him a few
-books, boxes, and other works of art which were spread out on the big
-round table, and Jim admired everything.
-
-Among Mrs. Martin’s treasures, there was a brown morocco “Keepsake,”
-containing a pair of scissors, a silver thimble, and a needle-case.
-It had belonged to Mrs. Martin’s little daughter who had died several
-years before, and when Mrs. Martin went into the best-room on Sunday
-afternoons she always opened the “Keepsake,” and thought of the little
-hands that had played with it, long ago. And now as a reward of merit,
-she showed it to Jim.
-
-“It is the prettiest thing I ever saw!” said Jim; “when I am rich I
-will give Nellie Turner one just like it.”
-
-“She will have to wait some time, I guess,” said Mrs. Martin, laughing.
-
-Then they looked at the pictures of George Washington shaking hands
-with nobody, and of his wife, looking very sweet and handsome.
-
-“You are so great at stringing up things, Jimmy,” said Mrs. Martin
-with a funny look, “I want you to hang up these pictures for me, will
-you?”
-
-“I will,” said Jim, blushing a little as he thought of his string of
-apples; “I will do it next Saturday.”
-
-Jim kept his promise. The pictures were hung in the best light and made
-the room look so much prettier, that even Spot, who had been a silent
-observer, could keep still no longer, and barked his approbation. Then
-the blinds and windows were closed, the door locked, and the best-room
-was left to quiet and darkness.
-
-The next day being Sunday, Mrs. Martin paid her usual afternoon visit
-to the best-room. She admired the pictures a little while, then she
-went to the round table to take up the Keepsake; but the Keepsake was
-not there.
-
-She looked all over the table and under it, behind every chair and
-in every corner, but she did not find it. “I wonder where it can be?
-Perhaps I took it to the sitting-room without thinking,” said Mrs.
-Martin to herself.
-
-She went back to the sitting-room and looked everywhere, but found no
-Keepsake. Then she sat down in her rocking-chair and tried to think
-about something else, but could only say to herself: “I wonder where it
-is!”
-
-Jim came into the room with a new Sunday-school book, which he began to
-read. Mrs. Martin looked at him while he read, but for some reason she
-did not say anything to him about the Keepsake.
-
-The next morning she put off her washing, and as soon as Jim had gone
-to school she began to search the whole house; but no Keepsake did she
-find.
-
-“It can’t be, it can’t be,” she said with tears in her eyes; “but I
-_must_ look in his room--perhaps he took it up to look at--he said it
-was so pretty.”
-
-Mrs. Martin went up to Jim’s room, but found nothing there except his
-clothes, the apples, and a few little treasures such as boys have.
-
-Then she fell on her knees by Jim’s bed, and cried with all her heart.
-“No, I won’t believe it till I have to,” she said at last. “Poor boy;
-it’s hard on him and he has been so good, too! But I must speak to him
-about it, and if he has done wrong I must try to be patient with him.”
-
-When Jim came home from school in the afternoon, Mrs. Martin called him
-into the sitting-room. “Come here, Jim,” she said; “I want to speak to
-you.”
-
-She had said it very kindly, but there was something in her voice that
-made Jim feel a little queer.
-
-He came in and stood before her, and she said to him: “Jim do you know
-what has become of that pretty Keepsake I showed you the other day? I
-can’t find it anywhere, and I have looked and looked.”
-
-[Illustration: “I LIKE YOU JUST THE SAME! I LIKE YOU JUST THE SAME!”]
-
-“No,” said Jim boldly, “I havn’t seen it since. I hope it isn’t lost.”
-Then he stopped, and his face blushed crimson. There was something in
-Mrs. Martin’s eyes, as well as in her voice, that reminded him of his
-trouble about the silver-spoon.
-
-“Oh! you don’t think”--he cried out.
-
-But he could say no more--Mrs. Martin had him in her arms the next
-moment.
-
-“No, I _don’t_ think,” she said, “I don’t, my boy! not for the world I
-wouldn’t! only I can’t find it, and--and--”
-
-“Let me look for it,” said Jim.
-
-They looked again together, but with no success. That night there were
-two heavy hearts in the quiet little house, and the next morning there
-were two pair of red eyes at the breakfast table.
-
-“You must not grieve so, Jim,” said Mrs. Martin. “I hope it will all
-come out right; we must try to bear it well, and go to work as if
-nothing had happened.”
-
-But she could not follow her own advice, and the washing remained
-undone.
-
-Jim did not go to school, and spent his time looking everywhere in the
-orchard and in the garden, while Spot followed him, wondering what was
-the matter.
-
-No one had any appetite for dinner, and after trying in vain to eat a
-potato, Jim went up to his room.
-
-Mrs. Martin tried to sit still, and sew, but she could not bear it
-long; and when she heard the children coming from school, she went to
-the gate to look at them; they were so happy that it seemed to do her
-good.
-
-“Is Jimmy sick?” asked little Nelly, stopping on her way.
-
-“No,” said Mrs. Martin; “but he’s been busy, and couldn’t go to school.”
-
-Nelly wanted to send him a nice russet apple she had kept for him, but
-she did not quite dare to do it because Mrs. Martin looked so sober.
-
-Jim heard her voice from his room, but he did not dare to show himself.
-“She won’t like me just the same when she hears of this,” he thought;
-and he felt as if he had not a friend in the world. “I would give my
-head to find that thing,” he said; “she don’t believe I took it, but
-she believes it too; I shall have to go away from here, and I don’t
-care what becomes of me, anyway.”
-
-Mrs. Martin stood at the gate a little while watching the children,
-then she went to the garden to look at her hot-beds--two large pine
-boxes in which lettuce, radishes, and tomatoes were doing their best to
-grow fast and green.
-
-When she came near the beds, she saw Spot stretched on the ground,
-enjoying an old bone, as she thought.
-
-“This won’t do, Spot,” she said; “I don’t want you to bring your bones
-here. Go away!”
-
-Spot did not seem to mind her at all, so she came a little nearer to
-make a personal impression upon him with the toe of her shoe.
-
-Spot growled, and turned away his head a little, and as he did so, a
-little silver thimble fell out of the old bone and rolled upon the
-ground.
-
-“My Keepsake!” exclaimed Mrs. Martin. And, as she said afterward, she
-was so taken by surprise you could have knocked her down with a feather.
-
-She waited half a minute to get her breath when she picked up the
-thimble and ran toward the house, calling with all her might: “Jim,
-Jim, here it is! here, come!”
-
-Jim never remembered how he got down stairs, but there he was staring
-at the thimble, and so happy that he couldn’t even begin to say a word.
-
-Mrs. Martin was just explaining to him: “you see it was Spot, and the
-bone, and the hot-bed fell out of it, and I knew it was not you”--when,
-they heard a big voice calling from the road: “Jim, Jim, come out here
-quick!”
-
-They looked round, and saw farmer Turner running as fast as such a fat
-man could run, and waving something shiny over his head.
-
-“Here it is!” he said, “here is that blessed spoon! I was a-plowing
-in a corner of the orchard, when I turned up a soft stone made of red
-morocco, with a silver spoon in it. Didn’t I tell you so? I never
-believed it. Hallo! what’s the matter?”
-
-The matter was a most wonderful scramble. Mrs. Turner and little Nelly
-had run across lots, and here they were, talking, and laughing, and
-crying. Everybody hugged everybody else, and everybody was so glad
-she was so sorry, or so sorry she was so glad--farmer Turner vowed he
-couldn’t tell which it was most.
-
-At last they made out that they were all very glad, and Mrs. Martin
-invited them all to stay to tea. They accepted the invitation, and such
-a tea-party never took place anywhere--not even in Boston--for the
-company had joy as well as hot biscuits, and happiness as well as cake.
-
-Spot was scolded and forgiven, and wagged his tail so hard that it is a
-wonder it didn’t come off.
-
-As for Jim, he got kisses enough that evening to last him for a
-lifetime.
-
-This is the true end to a true story, but not the last end by any means.
-
-For Jim is now a “boy” twenty-one years old, and Nelly “likes him just
-the same,” only a great deal more.
-
-[Illustration: “THEY’LL THINK I’M PAPA!”]
-
-
-
-
-[Illustration: ON THE WAY TO THE BLOOMING.]
-
-THE CHRISTMAS THORN.
-
-BY LOUISE STOCKTON.
-
-
-In the December of 1752, Roger Lippett was a boy of ten years, and
-“Dan,” his dog, was six months old and had to be taught to swim. To
-this pleasing duty Roger addressed himself whenever he had a chance,
-and the only draw-back was that his mother would allow no wet dog upon
-her sanded floor, and as Roger had to be wherever Dan was, he had often
-a tedious time in waiting for such a very curly dog to get dry.
-
-But this Sunday afternoon the two had taken a long walk after the swim,
-and when they came back Dan was dry and uncommonly clean and white.
-
-In the little parlor Roger found the usual Sunday company. In an
-arm-chair on one side of the fireplace sat Simon Mitchels, the
-school-master; opposite to him, on a three-legged stool, was Caleb
-Dawe, the parish clerk, and on the settle, in front of the fire, was
-Roger’s cousin, old Forbes the miller, and short Daniel Green, the
-sexton. His mother sat in her high-backed chair by the window, and
-Phœbe Rogers’ younger sister was near her playing gleefully with a
-kitten.
-
-“Christmas!” said Caleb; “there’ll be no Christmas! What between the
-New Way and the Old Way, we’ll all go astray. It is a popish innovation
-at the best, and if King George knew his duty, he’d put his foot on it.”
-
-“Nonsense!” said Simon, testily; “when a thing is wrong, ’tis wrong,
-and if you mean to make it right, you must not mind a little temporary
-trouble. King George knows that just as well as any one, and so do you!
-If you wanted a new roof on your house you would first have to take the
-old one off.”
-
-“Not Caleb,” said old Forbes. “Caleb ’d patch the old one until it was
-new-made over.”
-
-“Yes,” replied Simon, “that is just what we have been doing with the
-year--patching and patching. Now here comes King George, and says,
-‘Look here, this is 1752, and if we are ever going to have a decent
-regular year with the proper number of days in it, ’tis time we were
-about it.’ But you people who patch roofs object because it alters the
-dates for one year a day or two. Thanks be to the King, however, he has
-the power.”
-
-“Alters the dates a day or two!” repeated Caleb. “You yourself said the
-New Way would take eleven days out of the year.”
-
-“Only this year,” Simon replied; “afterward it will be all right. It is
-but to bring the first of January in the right place.”
-
-“It was right enough,” persisted Caleb. “And I say no one, king or no
-king, has any right to take eleven days away from the English people.”
-
-Then Mistress Margery Lippett spoke:
-
-“For my part,” she said, “I think the New Way unchristian. Mistress
-Duncan, you know, has a fine crowing little boy, and when the squire
-asked how old he was, she told him--’twas but a day so ago--three
-months and two weeks; and he laughed, and told her she would have to
-take the two weeks off. Now _that_ I call unchristian, and not dealing
-justly with the child.”
-
-At this the school-master laughed, and taking his pipe out of his
-mouth, and pushing his velvet skull-cap a little farther back, he
-replied:
-
-“They were both right, Mistress Margery. Both of them. The mother
-counts by weeks--very good--the squire by the proper calendar. One
-makes the child three months and two weeks, and she is right; the other
-deducts eleven days to fit the calendar, and he, too, is right.”
-
-“Out with it,” cried Caleb; “out with such a calendar! Why, the whole
-realm will be in confusion. None of us will ever know how old we are,
-or when the church-days are due; but I doubt if, in spite of it all,
-the Pope’s new calendar doesn’t keep the squire’s rent-day straight.
-They’ll look out for that.”
-
-“I suppose,” said Simon, “you all think the year was created when the
-world was?”
-
-“Of course it was,” said Mistress Margery; “didn’t He make the day and
-the night, and do you suppose He would have passed the year over?”
-
-“You are about right,” said Simon; “but the trouble is we are just
-finding out what His year is? See here, Roger,” and he turned his head
-to the boy, “do you know how many different kinds of years we can
-reckon?”
-
-“Not I, master,” said Roger.
-
-“Well, I’ll tell you. Suppose you wanted a measure of time answering
-to a year, you might reckon from the time the apples blow to when they
-blow again, but if a frost or a blight seize them, you’d be out with
-your count, wouldn’t you?”
-
-“Truly,” said Mistress Margery, who delighted to see how well Roger
-understood his learned master.
-
-“Well, then,” resumed the teacher, “you would soon find that if you
-wanted a regular, unchangeable guide, one unaffected by seasons, by
-droughts, heats, or hostile winds, you would look to the skies. You
-would, perhaps, if you were wise enough, and had observed--you would
-single out some special star; you would take close notice of its
-position, note its changes, then you would say, ‘When that comes back
-to the very spot where it was when I began to watch it, that time I
-shall count as my year.’ Do you follow me?”
-
-“That I do,” said Roger.
-
-“That, then, is one way in which a year was once calculated, and the
-star chosen gave three hundred and sixty-five days for a year.”
-
-“Now that is a calendar, true and unchangeable, and correct beyond what
-a Pope can make,” said Caleb.
-
-“That, Roger,” said Simon, taking no notice of Caleb, “is called a
-Sidereal year. Now, come you here, Phœbe, and tell me what is a Lunar
-year?”
-
-“A year of moons,” said Phœbe, her bright eyes dancing.
-
-“You have the making of a scholar in you,” said Simon; “’tis a pity you
-are a girl. A Lunar year _is_ a year of twelve moons. This Lunar year
-has but three hundred and fifty-four days, still it served the purposes
-of the Chaldeans, the Persians, and Jews.
-
-“Then there was the Solar year, calculated by the sun; and it and
-the Lunar year agreed so badly that every three years another lunar
-month had to be counted in to keep the one from running away from the
-other. Now, I suppose you all think,” looking at the group around the
-fireside, “that all these years began the first of January and ended
-the thirty-first of December?”
-
-“It is but just that they should,” said old Forbes, Caleb disdaining to
-speak.
-
-“But _they didn’t_,” said Simon. “The Jews began their year in March;
-in Greece it began in June, and certain Eastern Christians began theirs
-in August.”
-
-“That isn’t England,” said Caleb, in a tone of contempt.
-
-“Truly not,” said Simon; “but the English year used to begin the
-twenty-fifth of December, until the coronation of William the
-Conqueror--when was that, Phœbe?”
-
-“In 1066,” said Phœbe, smoothing her teacher’s ruffles with the air of
-a petted and privileged child.
-
-“It was January the first, 1066,” resumed Simon; “and it was judged so
-important an event that it was ordered that ever after _the year should
-begin on that day_. But I can tell you worse than that of England.
-There are places in England to-day, where they reckon their year from
-the twenty-fifth of March!
-
-“But long before William’s time,” he continued, “the Romans had ideas,
-and they thought it wise to straighten up the year for their own use.
-So Julius Cæsar--when did he begin to reign, Phœbe?”
-
-“I don’t know,” said she.
-
-“In 63, B. C.” said Roger, eagerly.
-
-“No, that was Cæsar Augustus, and we are coming to him. Julius Cæsar
-lived before that, and he arranged the years so that all the even
-numbers among the months, except February, had thirty days, and all the
-odd ones thirty-one. Do you understand that?”
-
-“Not I,” said Phœbe, frankly.
-
-“January is the first month; it is not an even number?”
-
-“No,” said Phœbe.
-
-“March is the third month, and so is not an even number?”
-
-“No,” said Phœbe again.
-
-“They each then, being odd, had thirty-one days, while May and July,
-and the other even months, except February, had thirty days. That was
-all very easy, and the length of the year seemed settled; but when
-Cæsar Augustus came on the throne he was not satisfied. ‘What,’ said
-he, ‘shall Julius Cæsar in his month of July have thirty-one days, and
-I, in my month of August, have but thirty!’ And so he at once made
-August longer.”
-
-“He was very foolish,” said Phœbe. “I was born in February, wasn’t I,
-mother? and _I_ don’t care because Roger was born in December, when
-there are more days.”
-
-“But you are not a Cæsar,” replied her teacher. “At any rate this Cæsar
-made the year all wrong again; and in 1582 Gregory, who was Pope, set
-to work to help matters. He had to drop some days, I believe, in the
-first year just as we are going to now. The French and Italian people,
-and some others, were wise enough to see this improvement at once, and
-they adopted Pope Gregory’s year; but we, for nearly two hundred years
-more, have been getting along with the old way, and our new year comes
-ahead of almost everybody else’s, and those who travel get their dates
-badly mixed.”
-
-“Surely,” said Roger, “it _would_ be best to have the same year the
-world over.”
-
-“So King George thinks,” said Simon; “but Caleb here says not, and
-quarrels because eleven days have to be dropped out of this one year,
-so that for all aftertime the years, months, and days, will go on in an
-even, regular and seemly manner.”
-
-“And I rightly object,” replied Caleb; “and when the proper
-Christmas-day comes I shall keep it, and no king, no pope, and no
-Julius Cæsar, _nobody_, shall ever make me change the blessed day for
-any other falsely called by its name.” And Caleb put his hands to his
-three-legged stool, and lifting it and himself at the same moment,
-brought it down with a bang.
-
-“Well, we can’t go wrong about Christmas-day,” said Mistress Margery,
-“if we but follow the blooming of the Glastonbury Thorn.”
-
-“That we cannot,” answered old Forbes. “For hundreds and hundreds of
-years, long before popes or calendars were thought of, that Thorn has
-bloomed every Christmas Eve, and not only the one at Glastonbury, but
-every sacred slip cut from it and planted has remembered the birthday
-of The Child _and never failed to blossom_!”
-
-“That is all superstition,” said Simon; “the plant naturally blossoms
-twice a year--that is all.”
-
-“Indeed that is not all,” cried Mistress Margery. “I was born and
-raised at Quainton, but seven miles from here, and there, as you all
-know, is a fine tree grown from a Glastonbury slip, and many’s the time
-when, with the whole village, have I gone out to see the blooming.”
-
-“And when did it bloom, mother?” asked Phœbe.
-
-“Always on Christmas Eve. The blossoms were snow white, and by
-Christmas night they were gone.”
-
-“But, mother,” said Roger, “why is the Glastonbury tree the best, if
-this at Quainton blooms as well?”
-
-“Because it was the first one planted, of course,” said Mistress
-Margery; “I know no other reason.”
-
-Phœbe saw the little smile upon Simon’s face, and taking his coat
-lappets in both hands, she bent her pretty little head in front of his,
-and said:
-
-“Tell us, master.”
-
-“You think,” he answered, “that I must know all the old wives’ stories?
-Well, I will tell you this one. Joseph of Arimathea, you know, gave his
-sepulchre to receive the body of the Lord. Into it the blessed angels
-went, and out from it, upon the third day, came the Risen Saviour.
-From that hour, until the one in which he saw the Lord return unto
-the skies, Joseph followed Him, and then all Palestine became to him
-empty and weary. There were people who doubted the resurrection; people
-who said that Joseph himself was one who aided in a deception; and
-so, tired of it all, he took his staff in hand and wandered until he
-came to England, and to Glastonbury. On Christmas-day he climbed the
-hill where the old, old church now stands, and here, in sign that his
-wanderings were over, he planted his staff. At once it rooted, it shot
-forth leaves, it blossomed, and the scent of the milk-white flowers
-filled the air. From that time to the days when Charles and Cromwell
-fought, it has blossomed on Christmas Eve; but then it was cut down by
-some impious hand, yet still all the slips, the twigs, which had been
-cut off by pilgrims, have kept the sacred birthday; and as your mother
-says, the one in Quainton can as well as the other decide between the
-Old calendar and the New.”
-
-“I am glad to hear thee say so,” exclaimed Mistress Margery, with
-brightening eyes, “and if you choose to journey with us when next we go
-to Quainton, you are heartily welcome to our company, and I’ll bespeak
-thee a honest welcome from my sister who, like my Phœbe here, has a
-strong leaning toward learning.”
-
-“Nay,” said the school-master, looking a little ashamed of himself; “I
-but told the story to amuse the child. The plant is merely a sort of
-hawthorn from Aleppo, and regularly blooms twice in the year, if the
-weather be but mild.”
-
-But although Mistress Margery was much disappointed that he had no
-desire to go to Quainton, she found both Roger and Phœbe bent upon
-witnessing the Christmas blooming.
-
-“I don’t know,” said she, lightly, “but that between the Old Way, and
-the New, the Thorn will be confused, and not know when it should bloom.”
-
-“It will not bloom on your new Christmas, take my word for that,” said
-Forbes; “and if the children will wait until the true day comes, I
-myself will take them along, for I have a mind to see it myself.”
-
-“But, cousin Forbes,” said Phœbe, “it _may_ bloom on the new day.”
-
-The little people had their way. On the morning of the twenty-fourth
-of December, by the New Style, but the thirteenth by Caleb’s count,
-Roger and Phœbe started off, mounted on their mother’s own steady
-white horse, Phœbe behind her brother, with the bag containing their
-holiday clothes, while to Roger was given their lunch, and a bottle
-of blackberry wine for their aunt, with whom they were to lodge in
-Quainton.
-
-The morning was cold and bleak, but the children rode merrily on. It
-was the first time they had been trusted alone on such an expedition,
-and Phœbe at once proposed that they should play that Roger was a
-wandering knight, and she one of the fair, distressed damsels who were
-always met by knights when on their travels.
-
-“I would,” said Roger, “if you could find another knight to whom I
-could give battle, but it is rather tame to be pacing along here with
-you behind me, and no danger ahead.”
-
-“I wish then,” said Phœbe, “that mother had not wanted cousin Forbes’
-horse, for, perhaps, he would have lent it to us, and then, with such a
-horse, we could have been a knight and a lady out hawking, and I would
-have given you a race.”
-
-“That would have been a rarely good plan,” said Roger, looking up the
-level road, “and I do not like to lose it. Ho, lady,” he cried, looking
-behind him, “thy father is in pursuit!” And clapping both feet to the
-sides of the horse, he put him to his speed.
-
-“Oh, Roger! oh, sir Knight!” exclaimed Phœbe, “my hood--if I could but
-tie it!”
-
-“I cannot wait for hoods,” said the knight, in a stern voice; “when we
-reach my castle thou shalt have twenty-two, and a crown beside.”
-
-The lady would not have doubted this for the world, but she
-nevertheless loosened one hand, clinging desperately to her protector
-with the other, and pulled off the hood, held it, and clutched her
-knight who, with cries of “on Selim, on!” urged poor old Dobbin to his
-best.
-
-There was, indeed, a clatter of horses’ hoofs behind, and with it a
-loud cry, Phœbe turned her head.
-
-“Oh, sir Knight!” she cried with very short breath; “my father _is_
-near at hand! Hasten, oh, hasten!”
-
-And sure enough, some one was! He was short and stout, and looked
-much more like a butcher’s boy than a gentle lady’s father; and he
-was certainly in pursuit, and he called again and again, but the only
-effect was to make the flying knight more vigorously kick the sides of
-his horse, and more vehemently push on. But as fortune would have it
-the father’s horse was the swiftest, and in spite of the knight’s best
-efforts he was down along-side.
-
-“What do you mean?” he exclaimed, “by racing off in this way! If I
-didn’t know that was Mistress Margery Lippett’s horse I would have let
-you go on, seeing that you haven’t sense enough to know he has lost a
-shoe.”
-
-At this Roger quickly stopped his steed.
-
-“Which one?” he exclaimed--“Here Phœbe, I must get down--the hind foot
-shoe is gone.”
-
-[Illustration: ON THE ROAD ONCE MORE.]
-
-“Oh, Roger,” cried Phœbe, “what would mother say! She is so careful of
-Dobbin, and she charged us to take heed of him; and Roger, _must_ we go
-home, do you think?”
-
-“Of course not,” replied Roger, “and see here Dick,” for he now
-recognized his pursuer, “cannot you tell me where to find a blacksmith?”
-
-“There is one at Torrey,” said Dick, “a mile down that road. It is the
-nearest place, but it will take you out of your way, if you are going
-to the Blooming as am I, who must be off, or my master will take my
-ears in pay for my tarrying.”
-
-It was easy enough to find the blacksmith’s shop, but the blacksmith
-was not there, although he would soon be back, his wife said. Roger
-tied his horse, and then he and Phœbe wandered about until he declared
-it was lunch time; so they came back, and were about to eat their lunch
-by the stile, when the smith’s wife saw them, and calling them into her
-kitchen, spread a table for them, and added a cold pie and some milk to
-their repast.
-
-But still the man did not come, and Roger waited in great impatience.
-He was almost ready to start off again for Quainton, but Phœbe was so
-sure that the penalty of injuring Dobbin would be the never trusting
-of them alone again, that he was afraid to risk it. Then there came a
-man with two horses to be shod, and he waited and scolded and stamped
-his feet, and then the blacksmith came, but he at once attended to the
-man, and so Dobbin had to wait. But at last Dobbin was shod, and Roger
-mounted, and then the blacksmith lifted Phœbe up.
-
-“Where are you going?” said the smith.
-
-“To Quainton,” replied Roger; “we are going to see the Blooming.”
-
-“Why, so are we,” said the man. “It is late for you children to be on
-the road. If I had known all this I would have shod your horse first.
-You had better wait for us.”
-
-“Oh, no,” replied Phœbe, “we have first to go to our aunt’s. It would
-frighten her greatly to have us come so late.”
-
-Roger looked down the road. It was certainly late in the afternoon, but
-the road was direct, and so he said good-by, and off old Dobbin trotted.
-
-It now seemed as if the mile out of the way had stretched itself to
-two, and it was fast growing dark when they reached a mile-stone three
-miles from Quainton. Little Phœbe was certain they should be lost
-riding on in the dark; but not so Roger.
-
-“There is no fear of that,” said he stoutly, “we will meet others
-going.”
-
-And Roger was right. The nearer they got to Quainton the greater became
-the throng of people, and they were one and all going to the Blooming.
-
-They came from the lanes, from over the fields, out of every hamlet,
-from every road. They were in wagons; they were on foot and on
-horse-back; two old ladies were in a sedan-chair, and at last they
-overtook an old man carried like “a lady to London,” by two great sons.
-As it grew dark and darker, and no stars came out to brighten the sky,
-wandering lights began to shine forth and torches, candles, lanterns,
-gleamed out on the roadside and flickered in the bushes and among the
-trees. There was in every group much talking and discussion; and it was
-easy to be seen that most of the people were of Caleb’s opinion, and
-doubted the new way of arranging the year; but it was equally clear
-that they meant the slip from the Glastonbury thorn to decide the
-matter for them.
-
-Roger kept close behind a travelling-carriage which was attended by two
-horsemen carrying torches, and greatly to his joy it went into Quainton
-and passed directly by his aunt’s home.
-
-“There is no use in stopping,” cried Phœbe, as the house came in sight,
-“it is all shut up and dark, and aunt Katherine has surely gone with
-the others.”
-
-This was so likely to be the case that Roger urged on his horse, and
-again overtook the carriage. When they reached the field in which the
-Thorn-tree stood it was already filled with flickering, moving lights,
-and was all astir with people and voices.
-
-Roger jumped down, lifted Phœbe, and then tying Dobbin to an oak
-sapling which still rustled with dried and brown leaves, he turned to
-his sister and, hand in hand, they hastened to where the Thorn was
-growing, and around which stood a large group.
-
-The tree was bare, leafless, and looked as if dead.
-
-“If that blooms to-night,” said a woman, “’twill be a miracle.”
-
-“It is always a miracle,” said a grave and sober-looking man by her
-side.
-
-Phœbe held closely to her brother’s hand; but the scene was too
-wonderful to promise much talking on her part. The darkness, the dim
-and shadowy trees and bushes, the tramping of unseen horses, the
-confusion of voices, the laughing and complaining of children, the
-moving lights, the thronging people, and in the centre of it all a ring
-of light and a dense group around the tree, made a wonderful picture.
-
-Nearer and nearer the people pressed, the parish beadle in advance,
-with his watch in his hand, a man by his side swinging his lantern so
-that the light would fall directly upon it. Many eyes were bent on it.
-
-It grew late, and the crowd became silent, gathering closer around the
-tree.
-
-“Twenty minutes of twelve--a quarter of twelve--five minutes of
-twelve!” proclaimed the beadle.
-
-The tree was still bare, and gave no signs of bloom.
-
-“_Twelve o’clock!_”
-
-And off in the distance pealed the bells, ushering in King George’s
-Christmas.
-
-The torches flared upon the tree; the people in the rear of the crowd
-stood on tiptoe and craned their necks to see the milk-white bloom.
-
-But the tree was silent and bare!
-
-King George could not be right.
-
-The next day aunt Katherine came out of the room where she was putting
-her bed linen away in the lavender-scented press.
-
-“The church-bells have done ringing,” she said. “Run, children, and see
-if any one has gone.”
-
-Off flew Phœbe with Roger after her, and when she reached the
-church-yard, the only person she saw was Marian Leesh, a neighbor’s
-child, looking over the wall at the minister and the clerk who were
-standing by the door. When the clergyman saw Phœbe he came toward her.
-
-“Child,” he said, “what is the meaning of this? Is it possible that the
-people refuse to keep the Christmas-day? Where is your family?”
-
-“We do not belong here,” said Phœbe; “we came to see the Blooming. We
-are at aunt Katherine’s, and she is looking over her linen press.”
-
-The minister frowned.
-
-“And the rest of the people?”
-
-“They are all at work,” cried Roger, coming up; “the cooper has his
-shop open, and the mercer is selling, and they have all put away the
-cakes and the mistletoe, and there is to be no Christmas until the true
-day comes.”
-
-“Nonsense!” cried the minister. “Jacob, bring me my hat!” and without
-taking off his gown he strode down into the village.
-
-But it was all in vain; the minister talked and scolded, but the people
-went on with their work. They would not go to church; they would not
-sing their carols nor hang holly and mistletoe boughs.
-
-“This New Way might do for lords and ladies,” they said, “but as for
-them the Christmas kept by their fathers, and marked by the blooming of
-the Thorn, was their Christmas,” and so the sexton closed the church,
-and the discomfited minister went home; and he was the only person in
-Quainton who that day ate a Christmas dinner.
-
-When the news came to London and to the court of how these people,
-and others in different villages, refused to adopt the New Style, the
-little fat king and his lords and ladies laughed; but they soon found
-it was a serious matter, and so it was ordered that the churches should
-be opened also on “old Christmas” and sermons preached on that day
-wherever the people wished them. And thus it was that our sixth of
-January, known as “Twelfth Night,” “little,” or “old Christmas,” came
-to be a holiday.
-
-But Roger and Phœbe spent one year of their lives without a Christmas.
-They returned home upon the twenty-sixth, and found that there the New
-Christmas had been kept; and as they could not go back to Quainton when
-the Old Christmas came, they missed it altogether.
-
-As for the Thorn-tree! Who can tell whether it still blooms? In the
-chronicles which tell of the Glastonbury bush, and of the Quainton
-excitement, there is no mention made of its after blooming; and the
-chances are Phœbe’s mother was a true prophet when she said it was
-possible that between the Old Style and the New Style the Thorn would
-become confused and bloom no more for any Christmas-day.
-
-[Illustration]
-
-
-
-
-MIDGET’S BABY.
-
-BY MARY D. BRINE.
-
-
-“O my sakes!” It was early in the morning when Midget stood on tiptoe,
-peeping behind a large ash-barrel, and, with wide-open eyes, uttered
-this exclamation. So early that only a few enterprising milkmen and
-extra smart market-men were about the street, and nobody but Midget had
-heard the feeble cry which startled her and led to an inquisitive peep
-behind the barrel.
-
-It was in an alley-way where piles of rubbish, all sorts of odds and
-ends, and much that was impure and disagreeable, had it all their own
-way from dawn till night, that Midget was standing this chilly morning.
-And “O my sakes!” escaped her lips once again before she ventured to
-stop staring and begin work. No wonder she stared, for on the ground,
-surrounded by bits of broken crockery and discarded ale-bottles,
-half-choked with the dust of ashes, and carelessly wrapped in a
-dilapidated old shawl, a baby was lying, stretching little thin arms
-helplessly into the narrow space between the high brick wall and the
-barrel, and testifying by feeble wails its need of timely assistance.
-Midget was so shocked and surprised at first that she could only give
-vent to her favorite exclamation as above, but presently her small
-shoulder was pressed against the barrel, and after much tugging and
-some hard breathing it was shoved aside, and Midget had her arms around
-the forlorn and neglected baby in a moment.
-
-It was just at that part of the fall season when early mornings and
-evenings are chilly and suggestive of shivers, and baby, who might have
-been all night on the ground, was blue with cold and quite savage with
-hunger. Midget’s shawl, ragged almost as that which was wrapped about
-the baby, was made to do double duty, as she folded the little waif in
-her arms, and realized the important fact that she was holding a real,
-live baby.
-
-It was not possible to carry a bundle of wood and baby at the same
-time, so the bundle which was to help grandma get her cup of tea was
-unceremoniously dropped, and the little girl hurried home with her
-new-found treasure.
-
-While she is hastening over the pavements, her blue eyes dancing with
-joy and excitement, we may learn something concerning her and her
-rather uncomfortable home.
-
-Midget lived with her grandmother, who was both father and mother to
-the little thing who had never known the care or love of either parent.
-Her father had never, in his best days, been much of a man, and when,
-soon after his wife’s death, _he_ was accidentally killed in the
-factory where he worked, poor little Midget was left totally unprovided
-for, and quite dependent, in her babyhood, upon grandma, who at least
-was able to pay the small monthly rent of the cellar home to which
-Midget was taken. The child, because of her small size, had earned
-from neighbors the nickname “Midget,” and had reached the age of eight
-years, still answering to the title, and almost forgetting her real
-name was Maggie. A wild, wilful, and not far from naughty little girl
-she was, but her heart was kindly disposed, and held a world of good
-intentions and affectionate thoughts, that somehow nobody, not even
-grandma, could often get a sight of. She didn’t understand why there
-was not a little sister with whom she might play all day, instead of
-having to go out early in the morning to pick up sticks and chips for
-the fire which cooked their scanty meals.
-
-Midget much preferred a game of “ring around a rosy” with the other
-children, properly called “Les Miserables,” who swarmed about the side
-street where she had lived so long, than to work for her daily bread
-and blue milk, according to granny’s directions. And poor old granny
-herself, possessing not much of the virtue called patience, was called
-upon by her idea of training a child the way she should go, to give
-little Midget many a “cuff on the ear,” and a shaking which roused all
-that was naughty in the lassie’s heart, and made the blue eyes snap
-very angrily. As for school, Midget had no time for education, but in
-some way, she, with several other children, had learned their letters,
-and could spell cat and dog as well as any school girl. During the day
-she earned a little by selling papers on the street, and yet I’m sorry
-to say most of her pennies went in sticks of candy down her little
-throat, unknown to granny. “If I only had a little sister,” she would
-think, excusing herself, “if granny would only buy babies, as other
-women do, why I’d be as good as anything, and help her take care of it!
-I would!”
-
-[Illustration: “EH! WHAT’S THAT?”]
-
-But granny _didn’t_ buy babies, and Midget still hated work, and
-sometimes there were clouds and sometimes sunshine, and on this very
-morning when Midget found the baby she had been saucy to grandma, and
-grandma had boxed the little ears, and so it had begun a _very_ cloudy
-day indeed.
-
-But we must return to Midget, who, ere this, has reached home.
-
-How glad she was, and at the same time how frightened, poor little
-Midget! What should she do with the baby, that was the question; and
-when at last the cellar was reached, and Midget laid her burden in
-grandma’s lap, she asked the question over again.
-
-“Eh! what’s this?” asked the old woman, lifting her hands and brows
-together, while baby, who, in all its life of eighteen months had never
-beheld such a queer thing as granny’s broad-frilled cap, opened its
-mouth and screamed a terrified answer.
-
-“’Tain’t only a baby, granny,” exclaimed Midget, patting the wee
-stranger’s hands, and trembling lest her grandmother should rise and
-drop it. “Only nothin’ but just a baby, and I’m so glad I found it,
-ain’t you, granny? ’Cause you see it’s a kind of sister, you know, and
-you won’t have to buy one.”
-
-“Glad?” repeated the old woman, “that I ain’t!” But the rather snappish
-answer was quite out of keeping with the impulsive kiss laid on the
-little one’s velvety cheek. Midget brightened when she saw granny do
-that.
-
-“I say, do you think it’s got any mamma, granny?” she asked.
-
-“_Did_ have, most likely, but reckon her ma wa’n’t good for much,” was
-the reply, while the baby, amused by Midget, began to laugh.
-
-“I shouldn’t have thought any mother would chuck her baby behind a
-barrel,” said Midget, thoughtfully. Then she began to plead with her
-grandmother that it might be allowed to stay with them, promising such
-wonderful things, and such care of it, that granny, who loved babies,
-and didn’t really know but what a reward might be offered for the
-child, at last yielded, and promised to keep it at least a few days.
-And Midget, delighted beyond measure, seemed to feel two years older as
-she rocked the little stranger to sleep, and laid it in her own little
-straw bed. “I was a stranger and ye took me in,” kept somehow repeating
-itself in granny’s mind all that day. She had read it in her Bible long
-ago, and had heard it from the pulpit once, but never before had it
-come back so forcibly as to-day. “Well! well! The Lord will provide, I
-dare say. And goodness knows, if he don’t, the child will starve along
-with Midget and her old granny.”
-
-No advertisement appeared in reference to the lost baby, and at the end
-of a week the little one had grown so dear to the two who had taken her
-in, that granny decided to keep her “a _little_ longer.”
-
-But what had come over Midget? The frowsy head began to look smooth
-as the clustering curls would permit, the little, active body, always
-bent upon mischief, had busied itself in new ways, and began to look
-tidy and neat as the unavoidable rags would allow. Hands and face were
-clean as soap and water could make them, and Midget actually kept her
-boots laced since baby’s advent into the family. Granny also noticed
-that Midget grumbled less at having to go out in the early dawn for
-sticks,--in fact, the grumbling in course of time ceased altogether;
-for Midget was bent upon fattening the baby and making it grow. And how
-could a baby grow fat unless she kept it nice and warm, and gave it
-plenty of food? Granny’s cup of tea would not do for baby, but Midget
-drank cold water most of the time, and baby had the blue milk all to
-her hungry, healthy little self.
-
-By-and-by, after the little one had been in her new home about three
-weeks, and all the children had kissed it and admired it to their
-hearts’ content, and all the old crones of the neighborhood had
-speculated as to how granny would be able to provide for it, Midget
-found pleasant work to do in selling cut flowers on the street for a
-florist near by. Such an important little Midget had never before been
-heard of in that neighborhood, and it was wonderful how long it had
-been since granny had found it necessary to punish her. No more saucy
-words, or frowns on the child-face, because there was baby always
-watching her little Midget-mamma with wide eyes, and once, just once,
-Midget saw the baby kick out its tiny foot just as she had naughtily
-kicked a little playmate who ventured to provoke her anger. And as
-Midget was determined _her_ baby should excel all others, of course
-she was careful of her influence. Then, too, she continued to be neat
-and tidy, lest the baby might turn her sweet face away when a kiss was
-wanted, and that would almost have broken Midget’s heart.
-
-The mornings were daily growing colder, and our little girl’s shawl
-grew no thicker or warmer, sad to say, as she started early each day
-for the flower-stand on Broadway. But Midget kept up a brave heart,
-and was glad for the little custom she found. How closely she stuck
-to business, and how patiently she looked forward to the hour when,
-released from duty, she would scamper home for a frolic with baby, we
-have neither time nor space to describe minutely, but we may say that
-with this new happiness in her heart, and with the importance of taking
-good care of her baby constantly in her mind, no wonder our little
-Midget grew gentle and good, and found the sunshine oftener than she
-used to.
-
-[Illustration: “MIDGET AND HER BABY.”]
-
-And all this time the wee stranger grew pretty and strong, and granny
-began to fear lest somebody should claim this bright treasure, which
-made the old cellar so happy a place, despite its scanty furniture and
-lack of home comfort. But nobody came for it, and finally the winter
-had slipped by and spring made its appearance.
-
-Midget had laid up a few dollars--think of it, children who read this,
-a few dollars! probably the sum that some of you spend in candy and
-toys during one day and think nothing of--for a new dress for baby
-and some trifles for granny and herself. She was eight years old, old
-enough to feel very grand and important when planning her shopping
-expedition; and indeed, the little girl sadly needed something to wear,
-if she would still make herself bright and attractive to baby.
-
-When the days grew warm she used to take her baby to the flower-stand,
-and people passing paused often, as well to admire this bright little
-nurse and her charge as to purchase the dainty blossoms offered for
-sale. Then in an hour or so granny would come for the baby, and, taking
-her home, leave the small flower vender free to attend to business.
-
-Didn’t Midget get tired of selling her flowers all day on the street?
-O yes, very tired; but the day’s hard work only made her evenings
-merrier; and the bed-time frolics with baby made Midget grow fat from
-laughing, if the old adage is true, “Laugh and grow fat.” There had
-been so many bright days, in Midget’s opinion, since baby came; that
-the little girl quite forgot that there were such thing as clouds.
-And so one day, when she went home, it gave her a dreadful shock to
-find poor old granny faint and ill upon the low bed, and two of the
-neighbors watching beside her.
-
-Midget looked around. Where was her baby? There was granny, so white,
-and grown so suddenly older than Midget had ever noticed before, but
-baby was crying in the arms of a girl-neighbor, who had volunteered to
-“kape the spalpeen quiet” till Midget’s return.
-
-It didn’t take our little mother a minute to secure within her own
-tender arms the frightened baby, and then Midget sat patiently down
-beside granny, who neither stirred nor opened her dim eyes until
-midnight. If I had time I could tell you how, after days of watching
-and sadness, grandma made Midget understand that her sickness could not
-be cured on earth. But the end came, after all, too suddenly for little
-Midget’s comprehension, and when the kind neighbors had laid the old
-woman away, to rest forever from labor, our little heroine had only her
-laughing, crowing baby to comfort and cheer her.
-
-She went to live with a kind woman who had known granny for years, and
-was but little better off in worldly goods than the old grandmother had
-been. Still, Midget could not starve; and she and her baby were made
-welcome in the new home. And after that she took the little one with
-her to the flower-stand, and brought her home at noon herself each day
-for two weeks.
-
-And then another thing happened, which, for a brief time, almost broke
-the child’s heart.
-
-It was a beautiful day late in the summer, and baby, a big, fat girl,
-was crowing and laughing in Midget’s lap, when a gentleman paused to
-buy flowers. While Midget was giving him change baby reached out her
-hand to touch the gentleman’s cane, and he looked at the baby face
-first with indifference, then more earnestly, and finally with a
-startled look on his own face which puzzled Midget.
-
-Then he questioned her about the child, and asked if it had, under the
-soft golden curls, on the back of the neck, a small red mark.
-
-Midget innocently replied: “O, I’ve seen it whenever I’ve dressed my
-baby; why, sir?”
-
-Poor little Midget! Little she knew that with her own lips she was
-giving away her baby, for the gentleman, raising the curls that fell
-about the fat little neck, saw himself the mark which gave him back his
-own lost child.
-
-It would be too long a story to relate how, just as he and his wife,
-so long ago, were going on board a European steamer, followed by nurse
-and baby, the nurse, carrying out a well-laid plot, slipped behind and
-sold for a large sum (promised) her little charge to an accomplice, who
-hoped to claim the reward which he thought would be offered, when, too
-late, the child’s loss was discovered; and, from that day until now,
-both parents had mourned for their baby. The nurse, failing to receive
-her promised share of money, worried and frightened the accomplice
-until he deserted the baby, and when the nurse would have sought it,
-Midget had taken her treasure home. The reward was offered, but, as it
-happened, granny had not seen it, and thus the child of aristocratic
-birth became indebted for life to Midget’s care.
-
-All this the gentleman explained afterwards to Midget, after he had
-bidden her return to the florist her flowers and come with him. And
-then, in the presence of baby May’s mother Midget told her story, with
-many sobs and tears.
-
-But the sunshine was coming to our heroine again,--the clouds were only
-for a little while. And when Mr. and Mrs. ---- engaged at a good price
-the services of faithful Midget, as nurse for the baby she loved, and
-took both baby and Midget away to the beautiful country-house, where
-were birds and flowers and hanging leaves and grasses, which made the
-fall so cheery a season as it never had been for Midget before--why,
-then, the little girl wondered if it were not all a dream, and if the
-beautiful house and charming meadows would not suddenly change into
-dismal streets and old cellars and she a poor little flower-merchant
-again.
-
-Little Midget is still nurse to baby May, still a bright, tidy,
-well-shod little girl, and best of all, baby still calls her “sissy
-Mid’it” and loves her as dearly as when, in the old times, Midget fed
-her on blue milk and crackers.
-
-
-
-
-A NOCTURNAL LUNCH, AND ITS CONSEQUENCES.
-
-BY LILY J. CHUTE.
-
-
-There was one pet, secret fault which was the delight of Tot Sheldon’s
-heart, and that was the eating, at night, after going to bed of such
-goodies as she could previously lay her mischievous little hands on.
-
-Anything whatever to eat between the five o’clock P. M. supper and
-the seven o’clock A. M. breakfast was a forbidden luxury to the
-Sheldon children, for their good parents considered it altogether an
-unwholesome habit for little ones to give their stomachs work for
-the night. It was only adults, in their opinion, who might indulge
-themselves in rosy-cheeked apples, tempting nuts, or other dainties,
-in the long winter evenings, with impunity. To be sure, these little
-treats, seeming doubly delicious to the watering mouths of the children
-because forbidden them, were only brought forth after the clock had
-struck eight--the bed-hour of the youthful Sheldons, but, by some
-mysterious instinct which children often possess, they knew well enough
-the night custom of their elders, and were ambitious to grow up, that
-they, too, might not go to bed hungry.
-
-For it was not seldom the case that they were, notwithstanding their
-hearty suppers of bread and milk, and such other food as was supposed
-to be harmless to the youthful digestion, really hungry before they
-fell to sleep.
-
-Little Tot, however, had a special antipathy to hunger, either real or
-imaginary, and a similar love, as has been said, for secret nocturnal
-feasts. The other children being boys, Tot had a cunning little
-bed-room all to herself, and so could indulge her eccentric appetite
-without much fear of disturbance. To be sure, she often felt certain
-guilty qualms of conscience, when her mother would look into her room
-to kiss her good-night, and she feigned sleep, while clutching tightly
-her prize beneath her pillow. Crumbs of gingerbread or cracker would
-have betrayed her the next day, but Tot had been brought up to take
-care of her own mite of a room.
-
-She wasn’t afraid of nightmares. Not Tot! She had eaten too many
-stolen suppers, and passed through the ordeal unharmed, to be afraid
-of any such bugbears, as she termed them. Neither of illness, for
-she considered her little stomach to be quite equal to that of any
-feather-bearing ostrich that ever stalked.
-
-Sometimes it was a rosy baldwin or a brown russet apple, a juicy pear,
-or bit of cake, or even a “cent’s worth” of candy, that found its
-way to Tot’s chamber. But one night it was a whole pint of roasted
-chestnuts which her uncle Harry had given her as he met her coming from
-school, and which she had hoarded away, beneath the snowy sheets of her
-bed, till night.
-
-For once Tot Sheldon was not unwilling to go to bed, a most remarkable
-occurrence. She said her good-nights with such cheerfulness, and
-started off with such alacrity that, unmindful of the many bed-times
-when the contrary had been true of her behavior, Mr. Sheldon said
-something, in a satisfied tone, about “the good effect of early
-training,” etc.
-
-Chestnuts were Tot’s special delight,--and _roasted_ chestnuts!
-
-How she longed to get at them, that she might release the mealy meat,
-white and fine almost as flour, from the bursting brown shells, and
-revel in the peculiar, delicious flavor which she knew and loved so
-well!
-
-Having undressed and ensconced herself in her cosey little bed, she
-waited with impatience for her mother’s nightly visit. She daren’t eat
-any of the nuts before, for fear something of the nutty aroma might be
-in her breath.
-
-But she forgot that roasted chestnuts have a fragrance of their own,
-even while yet in their shells, and she trembled with fear least she
-should lose her treasures, when her mother, after kissing her, said
-kindly:
-
-“You haven’t been eating chestnuts, have you, Tot? It seems as though I
-smelled them.”
-
-“No, marm,” replied naughty, trembling Tot.
-
-“That’s right, for you’d be sure to have dreadful nightmares,” said
-Mrs. Sheldon, as she bade her child good-night, and closed the door,
-distrusting the evidence of her own keen sense of smell.
-
-“Well, anyway,” said Tot to herself, as her mother’s footsteps died
-away, “I hadn’t eaten any, so I didn’t tell a lie.”
-
-She thought the matter over a moment, thinking of the nightmares of
-which she had been so often told, and half resolving to be so good a
-girl as not to eat any of the nuts; but in the midst of her resolution
-her hand strayed beneath her pillow, and into a paper-bag, and came out
-with a splendid great chestnut, which she had no sooner tasted than she
-sat up in bed, and with the bag in her lap began a feast.
-
-The room was not very dark, for the light from the hall burner streamed
-through the transom over her door; and, if it had been pitch dark, Tot
-had no fear of it, for she had never been frightened with any of the
-silly, wicked stories often told to children.
-
-So she crunched away on the delicious nuts until they were about half
-gone, and then stopped suddenly with a sense of fear lest she had eaten
-too many, rolled the bag carefully about the rest, put them under her
-pillow, and soon dozed off to sleep.
-
-But she didn’t sleep as soundly as usual, and woke up sometime in the
-night, when the hall-light had been put out, and it was perfectly dark.
-Her hand was tightly grasping the bag of nuts, and as she didn’t go at
-once to sleep, she thought she would try just one more,--which resulted
-in her again sitting up in bed, and finishing the pint of roasted
-chestnuts in the dark.
-
-[Illustration: “SHE SAT UP IN BED, AND BEGAN A FEAST.”]
-
-That was a fearful infliction for Tot’s little stomach, strong as it
-was naturally, and although she didn’t have any nightmares--that she
-could remember, at least--she woke reluctantly in the morning, to a
-sense that Bridget was knocking loudly on her door, and telling her
-that breakfast was over, and it was very late.
-
-At first she felt obstinate, and declared that she wouldn’t get up,
-but would go to sleep again; then a sudden guilty consciousness of the
-paper-bag full of the husks of a pint of chestnuts came to her mind;
-and the fear least somebody should come into the room and discover them
-made her turn hastily out of bed and begin to dress.
-
-But, as the old saying goes, she got out “the wrong side of the bed”
-that morning, and everything was troublesome. Never had Tot experienced
-so much trouble with every article of clothing, with her ablutions,
-with her hair; and at last she nearly left the room without her bag of
-shells, which she had laid on a chair while making the bed, which she
-dared not leave unmade, although there was no time, this morning, for
-it to air first.
-
-But cramming the shells into her pocket, together with her
-pocket-handkerchief, Tot started down-stairs, regardless of such faults
-in her toilet, as that her petticoat was wrong side out, her dress
-buttoned “up garret and down cellar,” her hair parted almost as much
-on the side as a boy’s, while her curls, usually so pretty, were mere
-stringlets.
-
-When she reached the sitting-room, the clock pointed to quarter before
-nine, and as there was no time for her to eat the breakfast which had
-been saved for her, she threw on her sack and hat, seized her books,
-and started for school.
-
-The rule of the school was that each pupil must be in his or her seat
-at five minutes before nine, and as Tot was one of the best scholars,
-and very ambitious, she was disgusted to find that all kinds of street
-obstructions concurred to belate her.
-
-She came within a hair’s breadth of being run over by one desperate
-driver, and was only rescued by a brave policeman who pulled her from
-the tangle of horses and teams, but he hurt her arm severely by his
-grasp. Indeed, poor Tot afterward found it was black and blue.
-
-Then she fell down in the mud and made a sorry looking spectacle of
-both herself and her books.
-
-So that when she arrived at school, only to find the doors closed for
-the morning prayer, she was about as thoroughly cross as could well be
-imagined.
-
-A reproof from her teacher, who was vexed that his best pupil should
-set such an example of tardiness, exasperated Tot into an ugly
-obstinate resolve to say nothing of the accidents by which she was
-belated. So she took her seat without a word, and looked for her French
-grammar, to study the lesson which was soon to be called for.
-
-But she couldn’t find it, and then she remembered laying it apart from
-the other books, the previous evening, and that it was thus left at
-home.
-
-Too angry still with the teacher, whom she had always before liked, to
-tell him of the blunder, Tot turned to her desk-mate and broke another
-rule, by asking the loan of the French grammar which the latter was not
-using.
-
-But the master’s eye was on her.
-
-“Miss Sheldon, you were whispering! Take a misdemeanor!”
-
-Tot did not answer, and choked down the rising sobs. A “misdemeanor”
-was the blackest of black marks, and never before had she received one.
-
-Some of her friends among the pupils looked at her sympathizingly, but
-there were those who, always envious of the more studious and obedient
-of their number, showed their spiteful delight at her fall.
-
-Of course she failed in her French, and lost her high place in the
-class, and finally, when a stinging and almost unjust rebuke came from
-the teacher, poor Tot could stand it no longer, and bursting into tears
-she hastily pulled her handkerchief from her pocket, when, with it, out
-flew the forgotten chestnut-shells all over the room!
-
-Into the master’s very face and eyes they went, and he, half blinded,
-and not fully realizing how it happened, told Tot that she needn’t stay
-at school any longer unless she could behave better.
-
-Out of temper from the beginning, angered beyond measure at what she
-considered injustice, and maddened still more by the shout of laughter
-that went up from the school at the episode of the nut-shells, Tot
-defiantly replied:
-
-“Then I’ll go home, and never enter this hateful old place again as
-long as I live--_never_!”
-
-“Miss Sheldon, you will repent this. Miss Mayfair will accompany you
-to your mother at once, and will take with her your discharge from
-this school. Go to the dressing-room. Your books will be sent to you
-to-night.”
-
-With flushed face and quickly beating heart, Tot left the school-room,
-put on her things, and started for home.
-
-Had not her companion been with her, it is possible that she would have
-made some truant attempt to avoid meeting her parents’ eyes.
-
-It was a little strange that Nettie Mayfair, her own particular friend,
-should have been selected as her companion. But so it was, and, as soon
-as they were out of the building, Nettie exclaimed in friendly but
-annoyed tones:
-
-“Why, Tot Sheldon, how _could_ you!”
-
-“_I!_” repeated Tot, her anger rising toward the very one to whom she
-had meant to pour out all her griefs, “how could _I_? Why, I didn’t do
-anything--it was all that mean old Mr. Stimpson! I never saw such an
-abominable man in my life!”
-
-“Oh, Tot!” began Nettie indignantly, “you know he has always been as
-good as--”
-
-“No, he hasn’t either, Net Mayfair--and if you stand up for him, you’re
-just as bad as he, a mean hateful girl--_so_!”
-
-“I should think you’d be ashamed of yourself, you spiteful girl,” cried
-Nettie, “I don’t see how I ever came to like you.”
-
-“And _I_ never did like _you_” retorted Tot, “though I was fool enough
-to think I did! I’ll never speak to you again!”
-
-“Nor I to you, so long as I live!” was Nettie’s reply.
-
-Arrived at home at last, the message and accompanying discharge from
-Mr. Stimpson was read by Mrs. Sheldon, who, full of sorrow and almost
-in tears, told her daughter to go to her chamber and remain till her
-father should come home, and they could decide what should be done with
-her.
-
-The key was turned that made Tot a prisoner in her own little bed-room,
-and here she remained through the long hours of the day without hearing
-a word or a step near her door. No voice came to her longing ears from
-parent or brother; no food to eat, and no books to read,--nothing to do
-but to think.
-
-What a condition was she in indeed! Discharged in disgrace from the
-school she loved; under the lasting ban of the displeasure of the
-master she had always so much respected; the friendship with her own
-Nettie utterly broken; and a prisoner in her room, utterly uncertain
-what the future might be to which her parents would consign her.
-
-The twilight darkened, and night came on. The hall gas was not lit, and
-still no sound came to her. All was silent as the grave.
-
-At last, fearing and trembling, poor little Tot undressed and crept
-into bed, where she lay for a long time unable to go to sleep, the bed
-seeming as if lined with thorns.
-
-But at last she slept so soundly, that she was only awakened by her
-mother’s voice, close to her face, saying in its kindest and sweetest
-tones:
-
-“Why, Tot, my darling, what is the matter? Why are you so flushed and
-restless?”
-
-In utter delight at the dear sound of her mother’s voice so gentle and
-kind, Tot sprang out of bed when her mother exclaimed, half laughing
-and halt in amazement:
-
-“Bless the child! I don’t wonder you were restless! Why, you’ve been
-sleeping on a bed of chestnut-shells! But, oh! you naughty girl, you
-told me last night you hadn’t been eating chestnuts!”
-
-The laugh had left her mother’s voice, and it was sad but yet tender,
-when Tot exclaimed in surprise:
-
-“Last night! wasn’t it night before last? What day is this, mamma?”
-
-“Tuesday, of course,--what do you mean?”
-
-“I thought it was Wednesday, and oh! such dreadful things happened
-yesterday!” and Tot threw herself on her mother’s bosom, and burst into
-sobs.
-
-“Oh--I see, my dear,” said Mrs. Sheldon, tenderly stroking her child’s
-tumbled curls, “_you’ve had your nightmare!_ But don’t cry, for nothing
-really dreadful has happened, except that I’m afraid my little girl
-told her mother a wrong story last night.”
-
-“Oh, no, I didn’t, mamma--or, at least I thought I didn’t; for I hadn’t
-eaten a single nut when you asked me, but ate them afterwards;--but,
-oh! I’ll never do it again in the world, if you’ll forgive me.”
-
-The forgiveness was freely granted, when the story of a day’s troubles
-which had been crowded into an hour’s disturbed slumber, had been
-related, and Tot in the neatest of toilets and with the freshest curls,
-ate her breakfast, and, without forgetting to take her French grammar,
-went off to school. She could hardly get it out of her head all day
-long, that she was in disgrace, but her lessons went off well, Mr.
-Stimpson was as kind as ever, and Nettie Mayfair was as loving as a
-bosom-friend could possibly be.
-
-Tot’s strong digestive organs had done the heavy work assigned them by
-their reckless little mistress, but they had given her a foretaste of
-what might happen in reality, were she to grow dyspeptic and miserable,
-through abusing them. In her unrest, she had turned over her pillow to
-find a cool spot for her head, and spilt the shells from their bag into
-the bed.
-
-One good lesson was taught by the nightmare, however, to the mother as
-well as the child, for thereafter, some light refreshment, as a slice
-of light plain cake and a glass of milk, was allowed each child of the
-Sheldon family, an hour before he or she went to bed, and thus the
-temptation to recur to her old habit never overcame Tot’s resolution to
-eat no more private lunches.
-
-[Illustration: DAISY’S SURPRISE.]
-
-
-
-
-LULU’S PETS.
-
-BY MARY STANDISH ROBINSON.
-
-
-First, there was Tom Doddles; and he was a bother. Grandma said so,
-when she found him snugly curled up in her favorite arm-chair, grandpa
-stumbled over him in the doorway, and sister Caroline declared that
-“the little plague _shouldn’t_ go with her when she went to take her
-music lessons.” Don’t imagine that Tom Doddles cared for music; O, not
-at all; he plainly said so when he heard any, by a series of howls, and
-little, jerky barks.
-
-But he liked to drive out in the phaeton, and stand up with his
-fore-paws on the dash-board, and look at the horse, with the most
-solemn air imaginable.
-
-That is, he would do so for a short distance, until thinking,
-doubtless, that the wise traveler should improve all opportunities, he
-would dash down and away for a nearer inspection of bird or butterfly.
-And once he had too much curiosity about a bee; after that, he thought
-bees were rather disagreeable, and quite ignored their society.
-
-And you see, scrambling through sand-heaps, and splashing through
-mud-puddles, was apt to disarrange his toilet. And he didn’t care in
-the least, but would jump back again in a social manner, that was very
-distressing to Caroline.
-
-She did not like to have her clean frocks “mussed” and disfigured by
-mud, and ever so many little black and white hairs.
-
-But what could she do? What would you do, if you lived in the country,
-and your little sister had a little pet dog that wanted to go to town
-whenever you did? Would you let him go? And if he stood up on his hind
-legs, as straight as a soldier, and begged, “jess as hard,” as his
-little mistress said, while she kissed and coaxed for him, could you
-refuse?
-
-Caroline could not, for a long time; but one day she drove off, leaving
-Lulu and Tom Doddles wailing together, while she flourished the whip to
-keep him at a distance.
-
-His non-attendance was such a relief and comfort generally, that she
-decided to leave him at home in future; and for several weeks poor
-Tommy supplicated in vain.
-
-At last, when the phaeton and little gray pony came around to the door,
-Tom was invisible.
-
-Cad laughed as she took the reins.
-
-“Why, Tom has given it up,” she said, “poor little fellow! How he
-did enjoy going; but he was a nuisance, and I’m glad if he’s learned
-better.”
-
-“Come, Fannie,” to the friend who was going with her, and away they
-went, as gayly as if there were no little dogs breaking their hearts at
-home.
-
-However, that day, _the_ little dog was otherwise engaged. You’ll
-laugh to hear that when they were about two miles from home, the merry
-chatter of the girls was broken by a tiny, smothered bow-wow, very much
-like a suppressed sneeze in church.
-
-“O!”
-
-“What is that?” chorused the girls.
-
-Then Cad jumped, and almost let the gray pony have his own way.
-
-For something under the seat was tickling her; and before she could
-look for the cause, out popped the head of Thomas Doddles, Esq., who
-proceeded to look serenely about him, as if conscious of a success that
-no one could dispute.
-
-“The cunning darling!” said Fannie, laughing so that she could not sit
-up straight.
-
-“O you scamp!” cried Cad. “I’d throw him away if ’twere not for Luly.”
-
-“Now sir!” said she, addressing him with great severity, “_don’t you
-dare_ to jump out of this carriage to-day.”
-
-But you’ll not be surprised to learn that he did so the very next
-moment. How could he help it, when a chipmunk chattered a challenge for
-a race to the nearest tree?
-
-Tom lost, and nearly dislocated his neck by looking up so much, and
-barking at the same time.
-
-As for the chipmunk, not a walnut cared he; and what he chippered back
-might mean:
-
-“You’re smart, Mr. Dog, but, smart as you are you can’t catch me!”
-
-Well, Tom Doddles was a bother! But he was a cunning one, and between
-the scoldings and the pettings that he received he was as spoiled as a
-doggie could be.
-
-But we all felt bad when a careless man shot him by mistake.
-
-And Lulu mourned so much that Aunt Sarah, after talking with mamma and
-grandma, went away one afternoon, and returned at night with a large
-box, about which she was as mysterious as a fairy godmother.
-
-Lulu knew from experience that Aunt Sarah’s mysteries always meant
-something delightful; and after a little teasing about what _was_ in
-the big wooden box, she put two kisses on auntie’s cheek, and said she
-would go to bed, and “find it all out in a dream.”
-
-But she didn’t, after all. She was awakened the next morning by a smart
-little tap that was _not_ a kiss, on her own round, pinkie-pearly cheek.
-
-And there was such a queer little munchy noise going on!
-
-The blue eyes opened; languidly at first, but they were wide and bright
-in an instant, for there was something curious for them to see. First,
-a heap of walnuts lying on her bed. Where did _they_ come from? Then,
-sitting up in the midst of them, and working away like a complete
-little nut-cracker, was the most charming gray squirrel that anybody
-ever saw.
-
-“O!” exclaimed Lulu. “Why!! Where _did_ you come from, Beauty?”
-
-For all answer, Gray-Coat tossed her an empty walnut-shell, and cracked
-an uncommonly large one on the spot, just to show her how well he could
-do it.
-
-Lulu picked up a piece of shell from the pillow. “That’s what struck me
-on the cheek,” she said, jumping up. “I know now! he was in Aunt Saty’s
-box, and I guess he’s all mine. Where’s auntie? Where _is_ mamma?
-
-“O! O! O! What is this here? A little silver house, true’s I live.”
-
-By this time the little girl was dancing around the room, as if she
-were practising for a ballet performance. Grandma, mamma and Aunt Sarah
-appeared in the door-way, and grandpa peeped in, too.
-
-“What’s going on here?” asked he.
-
-“O, I never!” said Lulu, hugging first one and then the other. “I know
-all ’bout it, auntie. _You_ did it, an’ I think he’s lovely, an’ what’s
-his name, an’ he’s mine for always, ain’t he?”
-
-“His name is Dick,” said auntie.
-
-“Dickon Gray,” suggested mamma, “and I hope that Pussy will not eat
-him.”
-
-“We must watch him,” said grandma.
-
-And they did, very carefully at first. But surely, that squirrel and
-cat were predestined friends; for they would frolic and play together
-like two kittens.
-
-And when puss was in extra good humor she would treat Dickon to a ride
-on her back.
-
-“Arrah,” said Robert, the hired man, “an’ did ye iver say the loike o’
-that, now? It bates the li-in an’ the lamb, I’m thinkin’.”
-
-Yes, and puss evidently had much respect for Dick’s judgment; because,
-upon her return from market she often brought a tender mouse-steak for
-his inspection.
-
-I suppose you would like to know if Dickon lived in his little house?
-It was of tin, and so new and bright that it did look like silver. He
-had a nice bed made of cotton wool, in the upper story. But did he
-sleep in it? Well--sometimes. One morning he was not there; and after
-much vain searching Lulu was sure that he was dead--had run away--been
-stolen--the cat had eaten him.
-
-And she was dolefully sobbing for each separate fate, when Robert
-opened the kitchen door and said, “Ah, come ’ere now, Miss Luly! an’
-ye’ll laugh a laugh as big as Tim Toole’s.”
-
-Robert was a favorite with Lulu, and she followed him up-stairs into
-the grain-chamber, sobbing and sighing as she went.
-
-He swung her up in his strong arms, over the great oat-bin, with, “An’
-only say there, now, Miss Luly!”
-
-And then, how she _did_ laugh! for there was the darling, eating his
-way out of the oats, as if his very life depended upon it.
-
-Didn’t she hug him, though! He was so tame that she could handle and
-fondle him without fear of being bitten; but this time her joy made her
-squeeze him _so_ close that he suddenly darted up, and sliced a tiny
-bit of skin from the tip of her saucy little nose.
-
-“Euh!” cried Lulu, “mamma! Dick’s bit my nose! I ’fraid he’s all
-spoiled it! What _shall_ I do?”
-
-Mamma was frightened, I assure you, and ran to examine her little girl.
-
-Dick repented the moment he did this naughty thing; and tucked his head
-under Lulu’s arm while he trembled violently.
-
-“It’s nothing serious, but he must be whipped,” said mamma.
-
-“O no! please don’t whip him,” said Lulu. “His little heart beats so
-fas’ now I’m ’fraid ’twill break.”
-
-“’Twas only a love-pat,” said grandpa, “I guess he didn’t mean to.”
-
-“He’ll bite harder next time if he is not properly punished,” said
-mamma, firmly, and she shut him in his cage, and gave him three or four
-strokes with a small switch. Then he was left alone in disgrace.
-
-But it was not long before Lulu stole in, and gave him a lump of sugar
-that she had coaxed from grandma.
-
-“Don’t you mind it, Dicky,” said she, kissing him through the
-prison-bars. “I love you just as much’s ever, and to-morrow you shall
-come out again.”
-
-Dick nibbled part of the sugar, and slyly tucked away the rest in a
-corner. I dare say he was thinking of next winter; just as housekeepers
-are when they put up the sweetmeats that we all like so well.
-
-Then he remembered that he had a carriage at command, and bowled away
-in his wheel at a rapid pace; only he never arrived anywhere, you know,
-and that must have puzzled him sorely.
-
-So Lulu went on loving him more and more every day, until Tom Doddles
-was almost forgotten.
-
-Dolls were neglected, and sometimes abused; for was not Miss Patty
-Primrose (who only a year ago had been “the beautifulest darling”),
-found lying on the hard, cold floor, with her clothing in wild disorder?
-
-Lulu well knew that Miss Patty had been snugly tucked up in a
-cradle-bed, and put by on a high shelf. How came she down there in this
-plight?
-
-Lulu looked up at the cradle, and saw a pair of very bright, sprite-y
-eyes peering out of it. Behold! Master Dick had turned out poor dolly,
-and was lying flat on his stomach in the little bed, using his own
-silver-gray tail for a blanket.
-
-It grieves me; but as a faithful historian I must relate that a sad day
-finally came, when dear Dickon was missing; and alas! this time, he
-could not be found.
-
-There was no clue to his fate.
-
-Perhaps the voices of the woods had called him back to his early home.
-Perhaps he had been enticed away.
-
-No one knew, but in a few days they realized that he had gone “for
-always,” as Lulu said, and they spoke of getting another one for her.
-
-But she did not want it.
-
-“I would rather ’member my own p’ecious Dicky,” she said, “than to have
-fifty ‘other ones,’ They could never be the same, and would only make
-me think that p’r’aps he was mis’able somewhere while they was havin’ a
-good time.”
-
-
-
-
-DAYS OF THE WEEK.
-
-
-SUNDAY.--Day of the Sun.
-
-MONDAY.--Day of the Moon.
-
-TUESDAY.--Day of Tuisco, the Scandinavian god of war.
-
-WEDNESDAY.--Day of the Scandinavian god Wodin, or Odin.
-
-THURSDAY.--Day of the Scandinavian god Thor, the god of thunder.
-
-FRIDAY.--Day of the Anglo-Saxon goddess Freya.
-
-SATURDAY.--Day of the Norse god Sæter.
-
-
-
-
-[Illustration]
-
-WHAT JANET DID WITH HER CHRISTMAS PRESENT.
-
-BY L. J. L.
-
-
-When Janet awoke on Christmas morning and saw her stocking, which
-had been placed most invitingly beside the chimney the night before,
-hanging as limp and apparently as empty as at the moment of leaving
-it there, she was not a little astonished as well as grieved at the
-thought that Santa Claus had passed her by.
-
-This was not strange, for such a thing had never happened before; but
-after rubbing her eyes to make sure of being awake, she looked again
-and was so positive it had occurred now, notwithstanding there was no
-reason to expect it, that when she arose to prepare for breakfast she
-did not take the pains to so much as peep into her stocking to verify
-her surmises.
-
-And there is no telling when she would have done so had not her pride
-whispered, as she was about to leave the room, that it would be well
-to put the empty stocking out of sight, and thus hide from others the
-evidence of her disappointment.
-
-But the moment she laid her hand upon it for this purpose she
-discovered that she had been laboring under a great mistake. It was
-not empty. Concealed in a fold of the upper part was a sealed envelope
-directed to Miss Janet Dunstan, and beside it a neat package wrapped in
-tissue-paper which, when unrolled, she found to contain five ten-dollar
-bills!
-
-What could it mean? Could so much money be really hers?
-
-For a little while Janet was too much bewildered to think of the note
-in her hand as a probable explanation, but presently she caught sight
-of it, and with a little laugh at her own stupidity she opened it and
-found in Grandpa’s hand-writing the quaintest, queerest epistle it had
-ever been hers to receive.
-
-It began with “Respected Granddaughter,” and then with a profusion of
-big words and complimentary phrases, went on to relate how a number
-of her worshipful friends, consisting of father, mother, uncle Tim,
-grandma and himself had gathered themselves together at an appointed
-place to deliberate upon the matter of Christmas gifts; and being thus
-in “solemn conclave assembled” that which should be done for her had
-received due attention, and it had been the unanimous decision in view
-of the fact of her having attained the dignity of fifteen years, that
-it was time to cease filling her stockings with toys and confections;
-and, as it proved somewhat difficult to decide what other offerings
-might be most acceptable, they had finally come to the conclusion to
-act upon a suggestion made by uncle Tim, which was to give nothing but
-money, with which she could procure such things as would best suit
-her taste: therefore, in the accompanying package she would please
-find fifty dollars--ten dollars from each; and hoping this would prove
-entirely satisfactory, he had the honor to subscribe himself her humble
-servant, etc., etc., etc.
-
-Janet laughed. Knowing well grandpa’s propensity for joking she saw the
-sly fun with which all these stilted phrases had been indited; but when
-she again looked upon the money in her hand, her eyes filled with tears
-at the thought of the confidence in her, on the part of her relatives,
-which so generous a gift signified.
-
-For none of them were wealthy, although in fairly comfortable
-circumstances, and she knew so large an amount of money would never
-have been placed at her disposal had they not been tolerably sure that
-it would not be foolishly expended. And, then and there, she resolved
-they should see that their confidence had not been misplaced. Not one
-dollar would she use until there had been discovered some good purpose
-to which the whole could be devoted.
-
-But the discovering of such a purpose proved more difficult than
-was anticipated; partly, because she knew without being told, that
-it was not expected the money would be used for clothing or for any
-of those necessary things such as her parents had been in the habit
-of providing; and she labored under a great disinclination to ask
-advice in the matter, having an instinctive feeling that the money was
-given her as a sort of test, which stimulated her to be equal to the
-emergency alone.
-
-A week elapsed, and the opening day of the winter term of school
-arrived with the question no nearer a settlement than on Christmas
-morning, except that she had come to the determination to find, if
-possible, some method of investing her money, by which, while serving
-some useful purpose to others as well as herself, it should be made to
-yield something of interest in return.
-
-This denoted both a benevolent and practical turn of mind; and as if
-only waiting such a conclusion, a plan whereby this possibly might all
-be accomplished was that day suggested to her in a remark made by one
-of her school-mates which she chanced to overhear.
-
-“Oh, how I wish,” said one little girl to another, “some one here would
-keep books to lend as they do in cities. My auntie writes she has the
-reading of all the books she desires by simply paying two cents a day
-for their use.”
-
-Janet started as the thought flashed across her mind that, perhaps,
-here was something she could do; and she wondered how many books
-fifty dollars would buy, and if she would be capable of managing a
-circulating library of this kind.
-
-The more she thought about it the more pleasing seemed the idea; and
-when Saturday came, bringing a respite from school duties, as was her
-wont with all matters of importance, she went to talk it over with
-grandpa and get his opinion.
-
-Without preamble or delay, waiting only to exchange greetings, she
-plunged directly into her subject by saying:
-
-“Grandpa, I have decided that I would like to open a circulating
-library with my money. Do you think I have enough?”
-
-Evidently grandpa was not a little surprised, as well as amused, for he
-seemed for a moment to be struggling between a desire to both whistle
-and laugh, although he actually did neither; but, giving Janet a
-quizzical look over his spectacles he said:
-
-“Oho! and so you propose to devote your means to charitable purposes,
-do you?”
-
-“No, I don’t mean to do anything of the kind,” answered Janet; “I
-propose to have pay for lending my books.”
-
-Then grandpa did laugh and whistle too. But Janet did not allow herself
-to be disturbed, well knowing that she was sure of his sympathy and
-attention when he should have his laugh out; and directly, as she
-expected, he became quite grave, and asked her what had put such an
-idea into her head.
-
-Then, as she was confident he would, he listened most kindly while she
-told him all that had been in her mind from the moment of receiving her
-gift, and of how the little girl’s remark had seemed to indicate a way
-by which she could do not only that which she so much desired, but also
-to gratify a wish she had herself often felt--a wish for more fresh
-reading matter than it had been at all times convenient to procure. For
-she thought, could she purchase a small number of volumes and lend them
-in the manner suggested, that perhaps these might yield a sufficient
-return to enable her to get such others as might from time to time be
-desired.
-
-A look of pleased interest gradually stole over grandpa’s face as Janet
-told her plan, and when she had finished he took his spectacles in his
-hand, and while balancing them on his forefinger, remarked:
-
-“Why, Janet, you bid fair to become a capital business woman! This is
-not a bad project for a fifteen-year-old head!”
-
-“But what do you think, grandpa?--can I make it work?” queried Janet
-impatiently, too intent upon her purpose to care for compliments.
-
-Grandpa deliberated a few moments and then replied:
-
-“Yes, Janet, I believe your idea is a practicable one, providing you
-are willing to begin in a small way.”
-
-[Illustration: GRANDPA HIGHLY APPROVES OF JANET.]
-
-This Janet expected, as a matter of course, for she well knew fifty
-dollars could not be made to buy a great number of books; but
-thinking there might be more in grandpa’s remark than appeared, she
-asked him to explain.
-
-“Why,” said he, “inasmuch as your means will not admit of many books,
-it seems to me that it would be advisable to restrict the variety to
-only such as may be suited to a single class of readers; for instance,
-to young people like yourself.”
-
-Janet’s eyes sparkled as she clapped her hands and said:
-
-“I like that. So it shall be; and we will call it the Boys’ and Girls’
-Library.”
-
-The project approved and a name chosen, what further remained to be
-done seemed comparatively easy. At least so Janet thought; for grandpa,
-thoroughly pleased with the idea, very cheerfully offered to assume
-the entire care of bringing the library into working order, after which
-it was understood the whole management would rest upon Janet.
-
-It would occupy too much space to enter into all the details of how
-this was finally brought about--of the letters written to distant
-booksellers and the answers received; of the catalogues he and Janet
-looked over together and their discussions in regard to the merits of
-different authors--therefore we will omit all this and come at once
-to the completed work as it stood when ready to hand over to Janet’s
-charge.
-
-At first father and mother had been somewhat doubtful of her scheme;
-but upon learning that it met with grandpa’s approval they concluded
-to allow it a fair trial. They saw that to insure the harmonious
-working of the library, there were two important things to be secured
-at the outset: That patrons should have perfect freedom to come and go,
-and still not be allowed to intrude upon the quiet or privacy of the
-household; and with this end in view they caused a tiny room at the end
-of the hall, which had an outside door of its own, to be fitted up and
-set apart for the exclusive use of the library.
-
-Across one side of the room was placed a row of low shelves where,
-after being carefully numbered, the books were neatly arranged, but
-leaving when all was done considerable unoccupied space which, grandpa
-said, was for growth should the venture prove a success.
-
-Before the window stood a small table holding pens, ink, and
-record-book, with which, and two chairs, the furniture of the room was
-complete.
-
-The main feature of the room, of course, was the books; and,
-considering that these had all come before the public long after
-grandpa had ceased to be personally interested in youthful literature,
-it seemed almost a mystery how he had been able to make his selections
-with such admirable taste and judgment. But this was soon accounted for
-by the fact that he had been governed in his choice by the standing of
-publishing houses and the approval of critics of established taste and
-ability. Only such as were thus vouched for were allowed a place in
-the collection. When all were shelved there were thirty-five volumes
-in strong cloth covers, including stories for both boys and girls,
-biographies, travels, etc., and one which would be classed under no
-general head, bearing the funny title “Behaving.”
-
-These cost on an average $1.20 each, and were all the works of standard
-authors, such as Mrs. Whitney, Miss Muloch, Miss Alcott, Miss Yonge,
-Miss Jewett, T. B. Aldrich, J. T. Trowbridge, with others of equal
-merit. One novel feature of this library must not be omitted, which was
-a tiny microscope intended to accompany a book entitled, “Evenings with
-the Microscope,” indicating that grandpa meant this library to be a
-means of profit as well as pleasure to the young people of the village.
-
-The cost of the books and microscope amounted to forty-four dollars,
-leaving six dollars, which were invested in a subscription to two
-monthly magazines, one a four-dollar monthly, suited to mature minds,
-and one copy of WIDE AWAKE, which took the remaining two. The magazines
-were Janet’s own suggestions, in order that every young person should
-be sure to find in the library something to please the individual taste.
-
-Grandpa thought it advisable to burden the working of the library with
-as few rules as possible, and after careful deliberation he decided
-upon three which, if strictly adhered to, he thought would be quite
-sufficient.
-
-_First_, The library was to be open to the public on three days of each
-week between the hours of four and six, P.M., _and at no other time_.
-Not even for the accommodation of some special friend were books to be
-either taken from or returned to the library at irregular hours.
-
-_Second_, Borrowers of books were to pay for their use at the rate of
-two cents per day; and were to make good any damage received at their
-hands; and last but by no means least, no running accounts were to be
-allowed. Every book was to be paid for when returned, otherwise the
-delinquent person was to be denied another until the indebtedness was
-cancelled.
-
-Grandpa’s idea in this was not so much to prevent loss, as to instil
-into the minds of Janet and her friends correct business habits.
-
-He reasoned, very correctly, that if a person contracted the habit of
-incurring debt in youth it would be very likely to follow him through
-life; therefore, even in so small a matter as this he thought it wisest
-and best to be careful and exact.
-
-Everything being in readiness, Janet announced her project by
-distributing among her schoolmates a few neatly written notices,
-containing a statement of her plan of lending books, and the rules to
-be observed, and then in a few courteous words invited patronage.
-
-Such a commotion as this simple announcement created! The questions
-and explanations which arose from all sides were something to be
-remembered: “Whatever had made her think of such a thing? Could any one
-have a book that wished? and must every one pay? Surely she would make
-exceptions in favor of her dearest, dearest friends?” until poor Janet
-was fairly bewildered.
-
-But she finally succeeded in making them understand all about it,
-and why it would be necessary to conduct the library with strict
-impartiality by showing them how unjust it would be to favor one above
-another.
-
-Two or three of her most intimate friends were at first a little
-inclined to feel themselves personally aggrieved at this; but their
-better judgment soon convinced them of their error, and on the day of
-opening these were the very first to present themselves.
-
-The eagerness with which others followed, and the number of books taken
-on this day proved that Janet’s venture had met with sufficient favor
-to warrant its success.
-
-And Janet proved a good manager, too. When the hour for opening the
-library arrived, she took her place by the table before the open
-record-book, and as fast as each one made a choice of a book she wrote
-under the proper date its number and the name of the taker, leaving
-on the same line a blank space where the date of return, and amount
-received for use, was to be daily recorded.
-
-Both magazines and fully two-thirds of the books were taken on this
-first day; but, as was to be expected, this was rather above the
-average on succeeding days. Still the demand for books continued fair
-throughout the winter, and also through the spring and summer months,
-one set of readers succeeding another until there was scarcely a house
-in the village where one or more books from Janet’s little library had
-not found its way.
-
-And wherever they went they carried a good influence with them,
-one which tarried and before long became manifest in several
-different ways. For, besides being bright and interesting, affording
-entertainment of a high order, there was not one which did not teach
-some useful lesson, inculcate some pure and noble sentiment, or show
-the beauty and desirability of brave and unselfish purposes.
-
-And so these few good books became a refining and inspiring element in
-the young society of this retired, humdrum little village, such as had
-never been felt there before, and from which the young people profited
-to a surprising degree.
-
-Throughout the entire school this good influence was especially felt,
-helping the boys to grow more manly and courteous, the girls to become
-gentle and more attentive to their studies, while yet sacrificing
-nothing of their accustomed jollity but its rudeness and carelessness.
-
-The boys and girls were not, to all appearances, conscious of the
-change in themselves, nor had they been would many have recognized its
-source; but their elders were not slow to discover the little leaven at
-work in their midst, nor to benefit by the suggestion of a duty owed to
-themselves and families which this contained, as the unusual number
-of subscribers to some of our best periodical literature the following
-year amply testified.
-
-As the year was about drawing to a close, grandpa looked over Janet’s
-record-book to ascertain what had been the measure of the pecuniary
-reward of the enterprise; and this is what he learned: The different
-patrons of the library numbered nearly one hundred, a few having read
-every one of the books, while others had taken not more than one or
-two. But of the thirty-five books each and every one had been out
-several times, and as some had proved greater favorites than others,
-grandpa made a general average of time upon the whole of _one hundred
-days each_--equal to thirty-five hundred days--which, at two cents per
-day, had brought a return of seventy dollars. The magazines, evidently,
-had been the greatest favorites of all, as the record showed that they
-had been out fully three-fourths of the time, and had earned a trifle
-over ten dollars.
-
-This, added to the earnings of the bound books, made the nice sum of
-eighty dollars in something less than one year--thirty dollars over and
-above the original investment--while not one book was lost, nor one so
-badly worn that it would not do good service some time longer.
-
-To say that grandpa was delighted at this showing would be but a feeble
-expression of his feelings; and when the facts in regard to the success
-of her undertaking were laid before Janet’s friends, they were so well
-pleased that their united judgment was in favor of a continuance of the
-work, advising that she withdraw the thirty dollars profit and put this
-amount out on interest, while the original sum should be reinvested in
-new books.
-
-This was quite in accordance with her own wishes; and as the year had
-been prolific of cheap editions of old and standard works, as well as
-of many new ones, she was enabled to increase her stock to over one
-hundred choice volumes suited to both old and young readers, naturally
-increasing the number of her patrons and adding greatly to the
-popularity of the little library. And although only about one-fourth
-of the second year has elapsed, the people of the village are already
-beginning to look upon Janet’s library as one of the permanent and
-praiseworthy institutions of the town, many talking confidently of
-a time in the near future when it shall comprise many hundreds of
-volumes, and be no longer “the Little Library.”
-
-
-
-
-CHRISTMAS ROAST BEEF.
-
-BY A. W. LYMAN.
-
-
-I had just sat down to my dinner, Christmas Day, when there was a
-distant shout down the street; then another still nearer. The policeman
-on the corner sounded his rattle for reinforcements; there was the
-sharp clatter of hoofs on the paving stones; two pistol shots in quick
-succession, and the confused murmur of many voices. I rushed to the
-window in time to see an excited crowd gathered about a prostrate and
-wounded steer, a fugitive from a passing drove of Texas cattle. There
-was little damage done by his mad flight; the old newsman on the corner
-was knocked down and sustained trifling injuries, and the excitement
-was soon over. The wounded animal was taken away in a wagon, and I
-resumed my dinner, with my mind on the Texas steer. “Poor fellow!” I
-mused, “you have a long, hard journey of it from Texas to roast beef!”
-and I began mentally to follow him in his successive steps.
-
-From the peculiar figure which I saw on his flank as he lay in
-the street, I could trace him back through two thousand miles of
-wanderings, down to the ranche of Col. Mifflin Kennedy, where he was
-born.
-
-There are three or four larger ranches in Texas, but Kennedy’s is a
-model in its way, and a brief description of it will give an idea
-of the manner in which stock-growing is carried on here. Kennedy’s
-ranche is a peninsula, comprising more than one hundred thousand acres
-of land, projecting into the gulf between the Neuces and Rio Grande
-rivers. On three sides of this tract are the waters of the gulf, so
-that all the owner had to do was to build a fence on the land side, and
-his farm was enclosed. But this was not so easy a task as one might
-think, for this fence of stout planks is thirty-one miles long. At
-intervals of three miles along the fence are little villages, groups
-of houses for the herders, stables for their horses, and pens for the
-stock. Within the enclosure roam about forty thousand cattle, ranging
-in size from young calves to three-year-olds, and perhaps as many more
-horses, sheep and goats.
-
-I should guess that our steer began his first experience with life
-at Kennedy’s, on an early spring day. A spring day in March, the
-very thought of which makes you shiver, is in Texas a season of bud
-and blossom and singing birds. The new grass is thrusting its bright
-green blades up through the brown and faded tufts of last year’s dead
-verdure, the trees are unfolding their leaves and the broad prairies
-are white and blue and purple by turns, with the early wild flowers
-which grow in beds miles in extent.
-
-[Illustration: “THE BRANDING PROCESS.”]
-
-The little calf has enjoyed a happy existence of a few days amid scenes
-like this, when his first sorrow comes--an experience much like that
-of the baby with vaccination. This is the branding process which he
-must undergo, a hot iron being placed against his flank, which burns
-off the hair, and imprints upon the tender hide a mark--a sort of
-monogram--which he never outgrows--and which serves to distinguish him
-forever from the cattle of other ranches. In Texas every stock-grower
-has his own peculiar brand, which is registered with the proper
-official, and no person is permitted to use that mark besides himself.
-By this means cattle that wander away or are stolen can be singled out
-wherever found, as you see I recognized our wanderer in New York.
-
-After the branding the calf is turned loose to make his living on the
-plains, and for two or three years he leads a life of absolute freedom.
-He rapidly grows tall, gaunt, uncouth and belligerent, and by the time
-he is a full-fledged steer, what with his immensely long horns, shaggy
-hair, and wild-rolling eyes, he is a fierce-looking fellow. I have a
-pair of horns taken from a steer in Western Texas, which measure more
-than five feet across from tip to tip, and this is not a remarkably
-large measurement.
-
-When our steer is not more than three years old, he enters upon another
-stage of his existence, which for him ends ingloriously, in a few
-months, in a Northern slaughter-house. Some spring day, such as I have
-described, the cattle-buyer appears, and the steer changes owners.
-
-The collecting and assorting of the herds for the drive Northward, on
-the fenced ranches in the settled portions of the State, are easily
-accomplished; but in the grazing regions further west, where the cattle
-roam without limit, this work is both difficult and perilous. The
-cattle in these remote regions are mostly bought by a class of bold,
-daring men, of long experience on the frontier, known as “out-riders,”
-who buy and collect the cattle from the stock-raiser, and sell them to
-the speculators from the north.
-
-The outrider fills his saddle-bags, and most likely a belt which
-he wears around his waist, with gold coin to the amount of tens of
-thousands of dollars, for in the section of country he visits there
-are no banks; and, taking a few trusty companions, all well mounted
-and armed, sets out on his long journey, beset by constant danger from
-lurking Indians and white outlaws who infest this wild country.
-
-The stock-grower who has lived remote from the settlements, perhaps
-seeing no human being except the owner of a neighboring ranche for a
-year, looks upon the “outrider’s” visit as an event in his existence.
-
-He is a most hospitable host, and for several days after his guest’s
-arrival no business is thought of, and a season of feasting, riding and
-hunting is observed. When this is over they begin their negotiations.
-
-The herds are scanned over to get some idea of their condition, but
-the cattle are not carefully counted and weighed as stock is in the
-North. The herds are simply sold “as they run.” That is, the owner
-looks through his book to see how many cattle he has branded, and the
-“outrider” pays him so much for his brand, which entitles the buyer to
-all the cattle that he can find in scouring the prairies, which bear
-the purchased mark.
-
-There is considerable sport and a great deal of hard, rough riding in
-getting the wild herds together and assorting them. It is in this work
-that the splendid horsemanship and wonderful skill with the lasso or
-lariat, of which so much has been written, are displayed by the Texas
-herder.
-
-In a few days everything is in readiness, and the herds are started on
-their long Northern march.
-
-[Illustration: ‘THE OUTRIDER.’]
-
-A route is selected which affords the best pasturage, and is most
-convenient to the streams, as it is essential that the cattle should
-reach the end of the drive in prime condition for the market.
-
-There are few incidents to enliven the wearisome weeks that follow. The
-herds browze leisurely along from six to ten miles a day, following the
-winding courses of the creeks and rivers, the herders following lazily
-after to keep them in the general direction northward.
-
-For days and days human habitations are lost sight of, and the droves
-and riders are alone in the midst of the great, grassy ocean. Not
-quite alone, either--I came near forgetting that bright and cheerful
-companion of the drove, the cow-bird, a brown little fellow about the
-size of the well-known chipping-sparrow, or “chippy,” as the boys call
-him. Flitting along on the outskirts of the drove, one moment tilting
-gleefully on a tall, swaying weed, the next perching saucily on the
-tip of a steer’s horns, perhaps at night roosting complacently on his
-back, the cow-bird goes through the long journey from the Texas plains
-to the stock-pens at the Kansas railroad station, whence the cattle
-are shipped to the east. Whether the little fellows return to Texas
-to accompany the next herd, or die of grief at separation from their
-long-horned friends, I cannot say; but I think they must go back, for
-their cheerful presence is never missed, and their number never grows
-less.
-
-[Illustration: “THE LASSO.”]
-
-Although, as I have said, there are few incidents to interrupt the
-monotony of the drive, the cattle-men sometimes meet with thrilling
-experiences. In former years Indian attacks were not infrequent, and
-many a brave band of herders has been surrounded and killed by the
-savages whose hunting-grounds were encroached upon by the droves. There
-is always danger, too, of stampedes in the herds, caused either by the
-terrific thunder-storms and tornadoes which burst upon the great plains
-without warning, or by the “cattle thieves,”--bands of white, Indian,
-or half-breed outlaws, who live by stealing stray cattle from the
-herds, and sell them or kill them for their hides. Having in his early
-life encountered one or more of the devastating prairie fires which
-sweep over the great, dry pastures almost every fall, the slightest
-smell of smoke or sight of flame will plunge the steer into a panic of
-fright, and this well-known circumstance is turned to advantage by the
-cattle thieves in securing their plunder.
-
-Getting some distance to windward of a herd on a dark night, the rogues
-set fire to a buffalo robe, and the pungent smoke of the burning hair
-is borne down upon the reposing cattle by the wind. The first whiff
-gives the alarm, ten thousand pairs of horns are reared aloft in air,
-and one united snort of terror is heard. Before the herders can mount
-their horses and check the panic the herd is past control, and the
-maddened and terrified animals, trampling one another and whatever
-comes in their way under foot, dash frantically off in the darkness
-with a noise like the roll of distant thunder. They scatter beyond hope
-of recovery. In the confusion following upon the heels of the stampede
-the thieves succeed in driving off scores and sometimes hundreds of the
-stragglers.
-
-[Illustration: “THE COW-BIRD.”]
-
-There are other incidents that I could narrate of amusing and exciting
-adventures during the drive. One episode I now recall of my first trip
-over the great cattle trail, was the encountering of a large herd of
-buffaloes which became intermingled with our cattle just after we
-crossed the Arkansas River in Southern Kansas. The buffaloes became
-so bewildered that they marched along with the cattle, and the young
-Texans enjoyed rare sport for two days in lassoing them. We had a
-welcome variety in our scanty bill of fare by the addition of tongue
-and other choice tid-bits to our larder.
-
-As the railroads are neared the drive becomes more and more tiresome,
-and the Texas herders, longing for the wider freedom of the plains,
-are not sorry to have it end. But the steer, if he could peep into the
-future, would be sorry to have the journey brought to a close, for with
-the railroad the romance of his career is over, and the last two weeks
-of his life are full of hunger, thirst and suffering. The great droves
-are divided into small herds, and distributed among the hundreds of
-stock pens. After a rest of a few days the last journey is begun. With
-eighteen or twenty of his companions the steer is taken from the pens
-and stowed away in the cattle-car--a sort of gigantic coop on wheels.
-There is neither room to turn around nor to lie down, so closely are
-the poor fellows wedged in. Now and then a steer contrives to get
-down on his knees at the risk of being trampled under the feet of his
-neighbors, but he gains little rest in this way.
-
-The cattle trains run slowly, and from ten or twelve days are occupied
-in the journey from Central Kansas to New York. At intervals of three
-hundred miles the trains are stopped and the cattle are taken off,
-placed in pens and fed and watered. After a rest of twenty-four hours
-the journey is again resumed. During the continuous runs of three
-hundred miles--about thirty hours in time--the poor creatures are
-without food or drink, and their suffering, especially in warm weather,
-is intense. Is it a wonder that they lose on an average two hundred
-pounds in weight each between the Texas prairies and New York?
-
-[Illustration: “A LARGE HERD OF BUFFALOES BECAME INTERMINGLED WITH OUR
-CATTLE.”]
-
-The cattle dealers are not, as might at first appear, regardless of
-the sufferings of their stock. To them the loss in weight is a loss
-in money, and for selfish reasons, if for no other, they would be
-interested in any plan for keeping the animals in good condition.
-Many devices and inventions have been tried to lessen suffering and
-save flesh, all of which have been found objectionable. One of these
-inventions was a “palace cattle car,” which was introduced a few years
-ago. It was a car divided into stalls, so as to allow each animal a
-separate apartment. There was room to lie down, and food and drink were
-supplied to every stall, so that there was no need to take the cattle
-from the cars during the entire journey. But for some reason the cars
-did not work well. The speculators and butchers objected on the ground
-that with so few cattle in a car the cost of getting them to market
-was too great; and those who had welcomed them because they promised
-to relieve suffering, acknowledged that the steer, placed singly in a
-stall, was bruised more by being thrown against the partition walls
-than when he was jammed in between two of his fellow prisoners in the
-old cars. So the “palace cars” were withdrawn, and the old system of
-slow torture--twenty-four to thirty-six hours of fasting and jolting
-followed by a day of feasting and rest--went on. But thoughtful and
-humane men have for years been studying the question of live stock
-transportation, and some day not long distant means will be found to
-lessen the sufferings of the steer in his railroad trip to New York.
-Even no less a personage than a United States Senator has devoted many
-years to this subject, and I am not sure but more real fame will attach
-to the name of the Hon. John B. McPherson of New Jersey for a recent
-invention to relieve suffering cattle than he will earn in the Senate
-Chamber; at any rate he is entitled to everlasting gratitude from all
-the sons and daughters of Bos.
-
-The invention to which I refer is a simple arrangement for feeding and
-watering stock on the cars, and consists of a trough for water which
-revolves on a pivot so as to be readily cleaned and inverted when not
-in use; and a folding rack for hay, which can be shut up out of the way
-when empty. Experiments with Mr. McPherson’s invention have proved its
-usefulness, and the Pennsylvania Railroad Company will soon have two
-hundred cars built with his improvement. With a well-filled rack before
-him, and fresh water always within reach, the steer will be able to get
-through the journey with a tolerable degree of comfort, even though he
-is without a bed to lie upon.
-
-The cattle-yards in our large cities, acres of small, square pens,
-ranged in long rows, with narrow lanes between, are familiar and not
-particularly inviting places, and, luckily for the steer, his life
-there is short. Landed from the cars he is driven into one of the small
-pens with about thirty others, where he stays for a day or two without
-experiencing any new incident in his life, except that he is poked and
-yelled at by any number of beef-buyers who want to learn his condition.
-Poor fellow! It makes little difference what condition he may be
-in, for there are a million mouths to feed in the city over there,
-and three thousand miles across the blue ocean yonder, those pursy
-Englishmen are calling for “American beef!”
-
-About the second morning after his railroad journey is finished, and
-our steer is in the Jersey stock pens, a dirty-looking old ferry-boat
-runs up alongside the wharf. The gates are opened and the cattle go
-rushing pell-mell on deck, where they find themselves in pens similar
-to those they have just left. Twenty minutes steaming up and across the
-Hudson River, and the steamer ties up at the Thirty-fourth Street dock
-in New York.
-
-Manhattan Market, where the cattle are going, is that large brick
-building nearly two blocks away from the river. The river-front and the
-broad avenue between the landing and the market are crowded with piles
-of freight, and heavily-loaded trucks, and we instinctively wonder how
-the timid and frightened cattle can ever be driven through such jam and
-confusion. At many of the landings this work has been attended with the
-greatest difficulty; accidents have been of frequent occurrence, and
-many cattle have escaped and rushed madly through the crowded streets,
-like the hero of our story.
-
-[Illustration: CATTLE-YARD.]
-
-But the cattle dealers have overcome this obstacle just as the
-railroads conquer the mountains and rocks--by tunneling. As the cattle
-come from the boat they pass under an archway, and find themselves
-in an underground passage, a long tunnel dug many feet underneath
-buildings and streets. The further end of the tunnel opens in the
-abattoir, or slaughter-house, and the cattle come out face to face
-with fate in the shape of a hundred butchers, who stand with gleaming
-knives awaiting their victims. The cattle are driven forward. Overhead,
-fastened to strong cross-beams, is a windlass, around which a rope is
-coiled. A stout iron hook hanging from the end of the rope is seized
-by one of the butchers, who deftly catches it around the hind leg of
-a steer. The windlass is turned, and in a trice the poor fellow is
-swinging in mid-air, head downward. A huge tin pan is slipped under
-his head, and a long knife, keen-edged as a razor, is drawn across his
-throat. The life-blood gushes out in a dark stream, and in less time
-than it takes to tell it our steer ceases to exist, and becomes beef.
-
-We shall not have time to watch the process of cutting up and the
-disposition of all the parts in detail. From the time the steer passes
-into the hands of the man with the hook until he is hung up two halves
-of beef occupies eleven minutes, and on a trial of skill between the
-butchers the work has been done in eight minutes. But this is a small
-part of the work. The pan of blood has to be taken to the tanks in
-the adjoining room, where it is dried and made into a fertilizer to
-enrich the earth; the horns are saved for the comb manufacturer; the
-large bones in the head are sent to the button factory; the hide to a
-tannery; the hoofs to the glue and gelatine makers. The tripe man comes
-around for the stomach; one man buys all the tongues, and another has a
-contract for all the tails; and so on, until every scrap is disposed of.
-
-If we visit the abattoir on a cold day we shall see perhaps three
-thousand beeves hanging up in the cool and airy room, but in warm
-weather we shall have to take a peep into one of those gigantic
-refrigerators yonder, each of which holds three hundred cattle. The
-meat is suspended from hooks over a vast bed of ice which keeps the air
-at a temperature of thirty-eight degrees. Similar refrigerators have
-been built recently in the holds of vessels, and with forty tons of ice
-three hundred beeves have been safely transported to Liverpool and sold
-in the British markets.
-
-Around the door, as we pass out, is a group of pale, hollow-faced men,
-delicate women, and sickly children, with hacking coughs. These are the
-blood-drinkers--people in all stages of consumption, who come hither to
-catch the warm blood of the cattle, which they drink with the eagerness
-of hope. Some of them have been coming for many months, and have been
-benefited by the medicine, but in the case of others it is plainly to
-be seen that they are making a hopeless struggle against death.
-
-[Illustration: “ALL IS OVER.”]
-
-As soon as the meat has cooled sufficiently it is delivered to the
-retail butchers of the city and its suburbs, who haul it to their shops
-or to the markets. All night long, while the great city is asleep, the
-market wagons creak and rumble through the almost deserted streets, and
-by four o’clock in the morning the beefsteaks for a million breakfasts,
-and the roasts and other choice cuts for a million dinners, are
-temptingly displayed on the white wooden blocks or marble slabs, behind
-which stand the fat, ruddy-faced, good-natured butchers in white aprons
-ready to serve all comers. The days before Thanksgiving and Christmas
-are the occasions when the butchers make their greatest displays, and
-the markets are then well worth a visit. Beef in halves and quarters,
-fancifully decked with wreaths and streamers, fat haunches, juicy
-sirloins with just the right proportion of fat to lean, “porterhouse”
-steaks garnished with sprigs of parsley, and other tender bits, are
-set off with as much art and made as attractive as a Broadway shop
-window in the holiday season.
-
-But we have finished our slice of Christmas roast beef and thus ends
-our story. We may wonder whether there will always be meat enough
-to supply all the world; but a moment’s reflection will satisfy us
-that we need not worry about that. There are in Texas alone nearly
-five millions of cattle and there are nearly half a million driven to
-market every year. Only think of it! supposing this number all in one
-drove marching in single file at the rate of ten miles a day, it would
-be nearly two months from the time the first steer entered New York
-until the last one came in sight. They would make a line reaching from
-Columbus, Ohio, to New York--550 miles long.
-
-
-
-
-GRANNY LUKE’S COURAGE.
-
-BY M. E. W. S.
-
-
-“Come, Tim, hurry up and be courageous.”
-
-Tim didn’t hurry up, nor was he in a hurry to be courageous.
-
-“Can’t you shoot the creature?”
-
-“No, grandma, I’m afraid.”
-
-“Afraid of what?”
-
-“Well, grandma, I’m afraid of hurting it,” said Tim.
-
-“But that’s what shooting was meant for!” said Granny Luke, indignant
-at the weak-minded grandson.
-
-“You shoot it, grandma!”
-
-“I don’t know how to shoot--and, well--I am afraid of a gun, because I
-am a woman!” said Mrs. Luke, who was known in all the mining region as
-“Granny Luke”--more because she called herself so, than because anybody
-else gave her that title.
-
-She was an “old country” woman who, having lost her children, was left
-with a number of young grandchildren to bring up. Fate had wafted her
-to the lead mines in Iowa, down by one of which she had settled in a
-log cabin, and had picked up a living by boarding the miners, attending
-to them in sickness, and by sending her eldest, Tim, down the shaft
-with the miners’ dinners. A lead mine is worked far under ground, from
-a shaft which is sunk like a bucket in a well. Tim was not afraid to
-go down this bucket, nor to crawl on his hands and knees far into
-Yorkshire Tom’s lead, with a tallow candle in his cap, to carry the
-miner his dinner; nor did he dread an occasional rattlesnake, who,
-coiled at the mouth of the cave, would often ring his deadly rattle
-at the boy. No, Tim was inured to danger, and he knew how to give the
-rattlesnake a good tap over his ugly head with a stick, and silence his
-hiss forever; and he knew how to measure and guard against the equally
-poisonous air, in some parts of the mine, by the uncertain flame of his
-candle.
-
-But he could not “_shoot the creature_.” Love made him a coward.
-
-For the “creature” was a beautiful fawn, the loveliest, soft eyed,
-tender pet that ever lived, whom Tim had trained and fed and educated,
-and brought in from the prairie when the fawn was a baby. Some hunters
-had shot the pretty doe, the fawn’s mother, and Tim had educated the
-orphan.
-
-Granny Luke had a little garden where she raised with her own hands a
-few vegetables, highly prized by the miners. The fawn had shown a great
-appreciation of early cabbage sprouts, green peas, beet tops and other
-succulent green things. No bars could keep him out, and no ropes could
-tie this gentle robber. He would jump over everything, and he nibbled
-so neatly and judiciously that Granny Luke’s garden had been ruined
-several times, and now her really long-suffering patience was at an
-end.
-
-“No early peas and no late peas, no corn, no squash, no lettuce, no
-anything,” said Granny, in despair. “The creature shall be shot.”
-
-[Illustration: TIM’S COURAGE FAILS.]
-
-She loved Primrose, too--as Tim had named the pretty fawn, whom he
-found deserted, lying on a bed of those yellow flowers which grow in
-tufts on the prairie. Primrose had tears in his big eyes, and was
-crying for his mother just like a human baby, when Tim found him and
-brought him home in his arms. Granny Luke had fed him with warm milk
-then, and had tended him as carefully as she did Tim, at a similar
-tender age; but those days were past, and Primrose was growing every
-day to be a buck of promise; and although he was tame enough to them,
-his moral nature could not be cultivated to know that while it was
-proper to eat green boughs and the coarse grass of the prairie, it was
-a sin to eat the fine things behind the fence.
-
-Granny Luke gardened like a German woman, and sowed her water-cresses
-and spinach every day, hoping for continuous crops. But Primrose
-allowed them to nearly reach perfection, and then down they went, under
-his even, strong, white teeth.
-
-If Granny Luke threw a stone at him he would give her one tender,
-loving look out of his beautiful eyes, and run away over the prairie
-for fifty miles, perhaps, glad of the exercise; always back, however,
-to greet Tim, when he crawled up out of the well-like bucket and from
-the cold, dark mine into the sun, and ready to offer him the warm
-friendship of his own well-furred neck, as the poor boy threw an arm
-around his four-footed friend, and the twain sat down, to an out door
-supper.
-
-And now his grandma wished him to shoot this intimate, dear, beautiful
-friend!
-
-No wonder that Tim’s courage failed.
-
-“I have invited the General to a venison dinner day after to-morrow,”
-said Granny Luke; “and Primrose must be shot. I shall roast his saddle.”
-
-Poor Tim shuddered. Granny Luke’s sensibilities had been blunted by
-time, and hard work and poverty. She had been doing very well in her
-affairs--thanks to the friendship of the General Superintendent of
-the mines, an old-country friend of her’s; and as he appreciated her
-excellent cooking, and fresh vegetables, she occasionally gave him and
-his fellow officers a good dinner. Primrose was to be offered up to
-two passions--revenge and avarice--for as he ate her spinach, he must
-therefore be eaten.
-
-The group was standing outside the cabin door, Tim leaning irresolutely
-on his gun; Granny Luke, her arms akimbo, looking at him; and Primrose,
-as beautiful as only a fawn can be, was calmly nibbling the lower
-branches of a tree. Animals are better off than we are; they never
-suffer from anxiety. So Primrose had no possible idea that those
-branches might be the last which he would ever munch. He looked up at
-Mrs. Luke and her grandson and gave a friendly “_neigh!_”
-
-This upset Tim, and he burst out a-crying: “I can’t shoot him!
-Granny--and I won’t!”
-
-There came round the corner of the house a slow, massive tread. It was
-Yorkshire Tom, with his pick-axe on his shoulder.
-
-“What’s all this! what’s all this!” said the man, catching Mrs. Luke’s
-arm as it was descending on Tim’s back.
-
-“The boy is disobedient, and refuses to shoot Primrose,” said the stern
-old woman.
-
-Yorkshire Tom was a patient man, and he staid a half hour to listen to
-the ins and outs of this curious case. He liked Tim and had felt his
-heart warm many a time as the little pale fellow, with the candle in
-his cap, came creeping through the dark alleys bringing him a dinner,
-and staying to chat awhile of the bright upper earth.
-
-“Now, Dame, thee’s a little hard on the young un! ain’t thee!” said
-Tom, in broad Yorkshire brogue. “Come lad, take the beast, and come
-along o’ me. I’ll shoot him for thee.”
-
-So Tim, with his arm around the neck of dear Primrose, walked off to
-Yorkshire Tom’s, far out of sight and hearing of Granny Luke.
-
-It was ten o’clock, of a moonlight night, when Tim came wearily home,
-with a saddle of venison on his back. Although he was weary, he looked
-bright, and his cheeks very red--perhaps from the exercise.
-
-“A large, plump saddle!” said his grandmother, “I had no idea Primrose
-was so fat--that comes from eating my spinach! A nice roast this
-for the General--why, boy, you look feverish. I must give you some
-peppermint tea! So Yorkshire Tom did it, did he? Well, Tim, you tell
-him to keep the rest of the meat to pay himself for the trouble--all
-but two steaks from the hind leg, remember.”
-
-“Yes, Granny; I’ll remember,” said Tim, whose eyes were sparkling.
-
-That was a good dinner that Granny Luke cooked for the General. The
-saddle was done to a turn, and she had some wild currant jelly, some
-fried potatoes, and a few vegetables which Primrose had not eaten.
-As she waited on the gentlemen, she enjoyed hearing them commend her
-cooking, and did not hesitate to utter a few words of praise over her
-departed Primrose! We often think of virtues in our friends after they
-have gone, which did not occur to us while they were living.
-
-Alas, for human constancy! Tim ate a large plateful of roast Primrose;
-and what was more, he liked him.
-
-“Well! I was right,” said his grandma; “he has forgotten all about his
-lost pet, and I am glad I have had Primrose shot!”
-
-But Granny Luke missed the fawn more and more, and she saw her spinach
-and water-cresses and lettuces grow unmolested without that supreme
-pleasure which she had thought would be hers! Her days were lonely, as
-her grandchildren left her for their tasks, and no Primrose came to
-give her trouble.
-
-She awoke one day feeling rather unwell, and as she was tying her cap
-over her gray hairs, which were her crown of glory, she saw a little
-black snake wiggling its way through the logs of her cabin.
-
-It frightened her; not because she cared for the little snake, but
-because the miners believe it an evil omen if a snake crawls into a
-house. She was superstitious, the poor old ignorant woman; and although
-she had plenty of courage in every other way, she was afraid of a “bad
-sign.”
-
-However, she drove the snake away, and went about her household tasks.
-Tim was sent off with the miners’ breakfast--her other grandchildren
-were fed and sent out to pick out the shining bits of metal from a heap
-of stones, and the strong old woman bent over a wash-tub to do her
-week’s washing. She had got about half through when she, fairly tired,
-let the soap fall, rubbed her arms dry, and thought she would look at
-her spinach and see how it was growing.
-
-“Oh! gracious goodness!” what did she see?
-
-Who was there nibbling the spinach, eating off the young water cresses,
-and taking an occasional shy glance at the beet tops, and shaking his
-pretty furry ears? Who but Primrose!
-
-“I knew it! I knew it!” said Granny Luke. “I knew when I saw that
-black snake that I was going to have bad luck! That is an evil
-spirit--and he has come after me! Oh, hou! ough! hou! Tim!”
-
-Granny Luke’s courage was all gone. Primrose was dead--and she had
-eaten him; yes, two steaks out of his hind legs. But there he was, with
-little horns growing out of his forehead!
-
-But Primrose--_for it was he_, and no other--hearing her familiar
-voice, had leaped the paling and ran to lick the kind hand that had fed
-his infant deership.
-
-[Illustration: GRANNY LUKE LOSES HER COURAGE.]
-
-This was too much, and Granny Luke fainted dead away; and when Tim came
-home he found her on the ground in front of the cabin, and Primrose was
-licking her forehead with his cool, rough tongue.
-
-“You see, grandma,” said he, in explanation, “Yorkshire Tom goes
-a-hunting sometimes, and he had just shot a fine buck when you wanted
-me to shoot Primrose. So he took us both over to his cabin and we tied
-Primrose up, and he sent you some venison from his buck, and he kept
-Primrose at his house. I went over to see him every day; and Yorkshire
-Tom said it was not wicked, so that I didn’t have to tell a lie; and
-you never asked me anything about Primrose, and so I didn’t have to say
-anything. And we meant to keep him always tied up, and he has got away
-to-day and I’m sorry, grandma; but I hope you won’t make me shoot him
-now, because he’s so big; and all I’m afraid of is that somebody else
-will shoot him--”
-
-And Tim skipped off as lightly as Primrose himself to caress and fondle
-the creature who was now no longer a fawn.
-
-It took Granny Luke some time to believe that Primrose was not a
-spirit! He had to eat a whole crop of lettuces before she believed in
-him, but she was secretly so glad to see him that she forgave Tim,
-and only asked of Yorkshire Tom that he would build a more secure
-paling for Mr. Primrose, and also to make her a higher fence for her
-vegetables; all of which he did, and she forgave him, particularly as
-he sent her another saddle of venison, and “two steaks from the hind
-leg,” of another deer which he had shot, assuring her that Primrose was
-still too young to make good venison.
-
-
-
-
-BILLY’S HOUND.
-
-(_A Two-Part Story._)
-
-BY SARA E. CHESTER.
-
-
-PART I.
-
-Billy used to read Sir Walter Scott’s poems when he was not much larger
-than the book, his sisters say. From Sir Walter he received the idea
-that there is no such thing as a hero without his steed and hounds.
-Although Billy did not aim at being a hero exactly, he by no means
-called himself a coward; and he considered a horse and dog as necessary
-to a daring, manly fellow as to a regular hero.
-
-The horse Billy confidently expected to own when he should come into
-long-tailed coats and moustaches. He knew the high price of a good
-article, and was willing to wait; but a “trusty hound,” which he could
-have for the asking, he wanted at once. All the boys belonging to his
-little clan either owned, or had some time owned, a dog; and when the
-huntsmen set out for the chase (in pursuit of such noble game as nuts
-or apples, birds’ eggs or nests) the dogs followed their masters.
-Those who were not followed had tales to tell--either of mysterious
-strangers who had lurked about the premises and enticed their dogs away
-on account of their immense market value, or of bloody street fights in
-which their brave ones had perished. Each boy except Billy had had his
-experience, and if not the present possessor of a hound, could boast
-the noble pedigree or gallant death of one departed.
-
-But it was not altogether Sir Walter, nor an ambition to be the owner
-of a high-born warrior, which made Billy long for a dog; he was born
-with a love for them as certain people are born with a love for babies,
-and he had many fancies about his hound which were not of a bold and
-bloody nature. He pictured him affectionate and gentle. He pictured him
-comfortably dozing by the fire on winter evenings; sharing a corner of
-his room at night; sharing his last crust should changing fortunes make
-them paupers--always faithful, tender and true, a friend to be relied
-upon though other friends might fail.
-
-[Illustration]
-
-Unfortunately he did not inherit his tastes from his father. That
-gentleman disliked the canine race in proportion as Billy liked it, and
-although an indulgent parent generally, would not listen to Billy’s
-petitions for a dog. Occasionally, however, Billy received such a
-tempting offer that he was emboldened to renew his pleas, and one day,
-unable to resist the fascination of a fierce little black-and-tan,
-began:
-
-“Father, there’s a dog----”
-
-“Once for all,” interrupted his father, rather noisily, “I say,
-no! Don’t mention that subject to me again, sir! Anything that is
-reasonable, from a parrot to a monkey, I’ll consider. But you are not
-to mention dogs to me again, sir!”
-
-“You know papa was bitten once, dear,” said his sister, as the door
-closed after their angry sire. “You really ought not to tease him. Why
-won’t you try and be contented with a dear little kitten, or a canary?”
-
-“I’d as soon pet a rattlesnake as a kitten,” said Billy; “one is as
-mean and sly as the other. And that canary of yours--it’s got just
-about as much soul as a lump of sugar.”
-
-“How would you like a goat? Goats are big and fierce----”
-
-“A goat is a brute,” said Billy. “As for the dog that bit father, you
-know it was a bull--the only variety of dog that has any treachery in
-its blood. I don’t ask to own a bull-dog. But a goat! Do you s’pose
-Byron could ever have said this about a goat?” (Billy had spoken the
-poem at school, and proceeded to declaim):
-
-  “In life the firmest friend,
-  The first to welcome, foremost to defend;
-  Whose honest heart is still his master’s own;
-  Who labors, fights, lives, breathes for him alone!”
-
-“I’ll have a dog, or nothing,” he concluded.
-
-“He has his father’s will,” sighed his mother, as he left the room.
-
-A few weeks later Billy was rambling home. He had been sent with a
-dish to an invalid; and between the fear of spilling its contents and
-the attention he must pay to his steps had had a wretched time; so on
-the way home he was thoroughly enjoying liberty. Hands were free to
-shy stones at balky and rickety horses, and feet were free to roam and
-linger where they listed. He was a long time on that homeward journey,
-and only reached the graveyard at half-past four.
-
-Billy had been known to quicken his footsteps when passing the
-graveyard by moonlight; and it is said that once when the sky was dark
-above and the night dark beneath, he ran quite around the corner, where
-he sauntered and whistled indifferently. But there was no occasion for
-running to-day. Neither moonlight nor darkness brooded over the graves;
-the white stones were dazzling in the sunshine, and the blades of grass
-twinkled like so many little stars; birds hopped fearlessly over the
-graves, not changing their gay tunes nor lowering their loud voices out
-of respect to the place; and altogether the graveyard looked so cheery
-and tempting in the afternoon sunshine that Billy stepped over the
-stile.
-
-There was a general scattering of birds, butterflies, chipmunks and
-squirrels, each of these inferior creatures being warned by a voice
-in its little breast to flee. A noble dog would have needed no such
-warning, but would have approached Billy as an equal, assured of the
-reception to which his rank entitled him.
-
-Having sole possession of the premises, Billy strolled about with a
-sovereign air. He pulled off his cap and turned up his face, letting
-the sunshine warm his cheeks to red and his yellow hair to gold. He
-surveyed the sky with some interest, as there was quite a variety of
-colors to-day, which pleased him better than the ordinary white and
-blue that in his opinion too much resembled milk and water. He cut a
-willow stick for a whistle, and examined names and dates as he passed
-the tombstones. Arriving at the grave of a boy who had died at his age,
-he sat down, took out his knife, and as he worked whistled cheerily
-above the little fellow whose whistling days were over. By and by an
-occasional chipmunk or squirrel ventured out in search of nuts; and at
-last a reckless kitten came within throwing distance. It would have
-been sad for the kitten had the soil been sterile and stony; but in
-that grassy region there was nothing to throw except the knife and the
-stick in the boy’s hands. The knife could by no means be spared, so
-away went the whistle with the coward cat before it. As the whistle
-was not to be found after a hunt in the thick grass, Billy resumed his
-rambles.
-
-This brought him back to the stile in course of time; and he lifted
-a foot to go over when he was stopped by a faint cry. He paused just
-as he stood, one foot on the stile and one on the ground, listening
-breathlessly; for his educated ear knew the animal by its voice. Faint
-as the tones were they were unmistakable puppy tones. No kitten’s
-fretty “me-ouw,” no squirrel’s soulless “chir-chir,” was there; it was
-the noble voice of a puppy, though so faint and far that Billy could
-not at once detect its source. He listened until the cry came again,
-prolonged and piteous. It was a puppy in distress, a little baby dog in
-need of championship! who so ready in the wide world as he to espouse
-its cause! His knightly soul thrilled with pity as he ran eagerly
-about, led hither and thither by the repeated cries. He grew wild as
-he could not find the puppy behind a tree or tombstone or anywhere in
-the grass; and it was not until a second voice came to his aid that
-he ran in the right direction. The second voice was loud and angry,
-and provoked the first to shriller efforts. Puppies at war! Now Billy
-was doubly anxious to find them, for he could see the fun as well as
-support the under dog. He had decided by this time that they were near
-the fence which separated the graveyard from the barley field; and
-as he ran thither a third cry broke upon his ears, then a fourth, a
-fifth--till voices innumerable seemed to join the chorus.
-
-“A dozen, as I’m alive!” said Billy; and by this time he had an
-opportunity to count them, though it was by no means easy to count all
-the big heads and little feet which he found struggling, pushing and
-climbing in the old tin pan between the fence and a walnut tree. He
-bent above the moving mass, and after various attempts learned that
-their number was seven. In regard to eyes, total blindness indicated
-extreme youth. And as to the cause of their complaint, it was evident
-that they had been abandoned in their ignorance and helplessness, and
-were in need of food.
-
-Billy gazed into the pan with emotions of pride and compassion; the
-pride of a discoverer and possessor; the compassion of a heart always
-sensitive to canine grief, but moved to its depths by this spectacle of
-blind and orphaned infant woe. Seven little wails proceeding from seven
-hungry mouths, fourteen little paws groping and struggling towards
-escape from suffering whose cause was hardly comprehended--the sight
-might rouse a stouter heart than Billy’s.
-
-“They’re a prize,” thought he, viewing the enormous heads and wee paws,
-critically. “They look like rare ones--Irish setters, perhaps. Bob
-would know. He’s up on those things.”
-
-Bob might also make some helpful suggestions in regard to the puppies’
-future; for Billy could not take them home; he could not leave them to
-starve, and he was far from willing to distribute among his friends
-the orphans whom he had rescued from untimely graves, and towards whom
-his heart was beating with such tender interest.
-
-In his dilemma he left the puppies, to consult with Bob; and as he ran
-away, looked in vain for the mother dog.
-
-“It would never do to let them starve,” said Bob; “but we must give
-the mother a fair chance. If she isn’t back by seven we can conclude
-they’re abandoned, and they shall have a home in my barn, for the
-present.”
-
-Having met at seven, Bob and Billy hastened to the graveyard. No mother
-dog could be seen as they approached the stile, and a chorus of loud
-wails informed them that she had not returned. They were soon kneeling
-by the pan, criticising forms and faces; at the same time observing
-with deepest pity how the little mouths told their misery and the weary
-paws strove to escape from it.
-
-[Illustration: BILLY EXPERIENCES UNSPEAKABLE HAPPINESS.]
-
-“I should judge you were a pointer by your nose,” said Bob, addressing
-the only puppy who could be said to have an attempt at the feature.
-“This may be a Newfoundland,” referring to one whose nose they would
-not have discovered but for the end of a wee pair of nostrils. “They’re
-a splendid lot, poor babies! It’s a clear case of desertion, Billy. We
-mustn’t leave them here without food another moment.”
-
-Billy lifted the rusty old pan and clasped it tenderly against his
-jacket. Then they stepped briskly towards the stile, for the graveyard
-was by no means the tempting place it had been two hours ago.
-
-“Keep an eye out for my father,” said Billy. “They make such a noise
-they may get us into trouble.”
-
-But by sometimes crossing streets and turning corners suddenly,
-sometimes running and sometimes dodging, they succeeded in reaching the
-barn without encountering friend or acquaintance who would betray them.
-
-“Take them in and make them at home on the hay while I go for their
-supper,” said Bob.
-
-At the barn door Billy and the puppies were received by no less a
-person than Timothy, the coachman, who had consented to give the
-orphans a temporary asylum. He also bent gravely and critically over
-the pan; but his verdict did not agree with Bob’s.
-
-“Mongrel, very mongrel,” said Timothy, shaking his head.
-
-The fact that they belonged to his own humble rank in life may possibly
-have increased his sympathy; but it is certain that no orphaned
-kittens could have roused such emotions of pity in his manly breast.
-He had a corner ready, cushioned with hay; and they were soon rubbing
-against something better adapted to their tender sides than cold tin.
-But though they nestled in the hay as if they liked it, their wails
-continued, and they soon began to toddle about in search of food. When
-Bob came bringing it, however, Timothy shook his head and said:
-
-“Ten chances to one against touching a drop, Billy. I’ve known ’em to
-die rather than drink it out of a saucer at that age.”
-
-A vision of seven little puppies wailing and toddling to their doom,
-of seven cold, stiff forms, seven green graves in a row, clouded
-Billy’s fancy for a moment. But no, he would not accept such dark
-possibilities. The puppies must be tenderly persuaded what was for
-their good; and canine reason must triumph over mere brute prejudice.
-
-But, alas, for Billy’s faith in canine intelligence--no sooner were
-the little noses introduced to the saucer than wails broke forth with
-tenfold energy. One after another they struggled from his hands and
-toddled away, until the seventh sat afar in the hay, with milky nose
-and empty stomach protesting against the insult it had received.
-
-Billy was sorely tried and disappointed; but he considered their youth
-and blindness; he reflected that even human intelligence fears what it
-cannot see, and that it becomes one to have much patience with blind
-puppy babies. So he captured them again, individually, and repeated the
-process several times, until each, in spite of kicks and screams, had
-been compelled to sniff or lap up a few drops. He did not rest till the
-saucer was emptied; and by that time Timothy thought they had probably
-taken enough to preserve life through the night, though not enough to
-make them comfortable and hush their wails.
-
-Billy went home with the wails still in his ears. You may be sure,
-however, that it was not of seven weak, blind, crying infants that he
-dreamed; but of seven gallant hounds full-statured, noses cold and keen
-of scent, heads erect and proud--for faith and hope are brave at the
-age of twelve.
-
-But like other dreams which faith and hope have dreamed at night,
-Billy’s fled at dawn. One-seventh of it at least could never come
-true. One-seventh of it was found stiff and still in the hay; and was
-speedily borne to a lonely little grave beneath the apple tree.
-
-“What did I tell you?” said Timothy. “They’ll all be dead afore night,
-sooner’n drink from a saucer. You’d best drown ’em, Billy, and put ’em
-out o’ misery.”
-
-But Billy vowed he would never drown them; that he wouldn’t hesitate
-if they were kittens; but he’d as soon drown a baby as a puppy. He
-was going to raise the six! No pains should be spared to rear a round
-half-dozen. Number Seven was the obstinate member of the family anyway.
-Billy knew him by the spot on his right ear; and didn’t he remember how
-much harder he kicked than the other six last night? Drown them! Never!
-
-An expression, not of disappointment, might have been observed on
-Timothy’s face; although he shook his head, saying:
-
-“Mongrel, very mongrel, Billy. It’s my advice to drown ’em.”
-
-That head shook frequently during the day; indeed, whenever Timothy
-appeared in the barn door to see how Bob and Billy were succeeding.
-They were not to be discouraged by head-shakings; but were rather
-provoked to greater efforts, as perhaps, Timothy intended. Hopes
-prevailed over fears until evening, when it became only too evident
-that a pair of the puppies toddled more and more feebly as the shadows
-fell. Applications of milk to their nostrils, force, and even mild
-persuasion, so annoyed them that it seemed true kindness to let them
-depart in peace. They were allowed therefore to toddle into a secluded
-corner, where they lay down together, and from which they toddled out
-no more.
-
-“It’s better so,” said Timothy. “They ain’t got nothing to go a-huntin’
-and cryin’ for now. If they ain’t found what they wanted by this time,
-they don’t know the difference.”
-
-It was said with quite a softening of Timothy’s big voice, as he gently
-lifted them for the burial. Billy and Bob sat apart, silent and abject,
-their hands in their pockets and scowls upon their brows. But they rose
-and followed Timothy as he advanced to the cemetery, bearing a puppy in
-each hand. Few remarks were made until they were returning to the barn,
-when Bob said:
-
-“Brace up, Billy. Four’s a better number than seven. You would
-have found seven a big family on your hands. I’ve always noticed a
-difference in their constitutions. Those two never had as much strength
-as the others.”
-
-“Do you think the others will come on?” Billy asked, timidly.
-
-“I do,” said Bob. “They’re robust compared to the others; and they’ve
-eaten quite a lot to-day. I shouldn’t wonder if their eyes would be
-open by morning.”
-
-Billy was only too glad to hope again, and went home to dream of a
-gallant quartette, in spite of Timothy’s parting words:
-
-“Very mongrel, Billy, and no constitution. The sooner you put an end to
-’em, the better for all parties.”
-
-Timothy having spoken, went immediately to the kitchen, where he
-confided to cook the whole tragic tale, and said he had heard how
-oatmeal porridge was nourishing for young puppies; “and suppose you
-make us a little, Eliza, with not too much oatmeal and a plenty of
-milk, so ’s ’t’ll go down easy.”
-
-Later, Timothy might have been seen, by the light of a lantern,
-kneeling upon the hay, feeding the puppies porridge, which he promised
-would give them “sound sleep with something on their stomachs,” and
-save them perhaps from being dead puppies in the morning.
-
-Although Billy dreamed his brave dreams of an unbroken quartette, still
-he stepped into the barn with some anxiety the next morning. But the
-oatmeal porridge had proved popular; the puppies took it with little
-urging, and even learned to smell their way into its neighborhood. It
-did not make them strong and sprightly; it did not open their eyes;
-but it kept them from dying, and surely this was not a small thing to
-accomplish. The very fact that three days went by and no death occurred
-in the family, encouraged them all to hope that a stronger tide of life
-would soon set in, forcing eyes open and making legs frisky. But when
-three other days had dragged along, Timothy, in a moment of impatience
-declared that their eyes would never open.
-
-“A blind dog is sure no good,” said he; “and mongrel as they are,
-you’ll drop ’em in the river, if you take my advice, Billy.”
-
-[Illustration: NOTWITHSTANDING THEY ARE MONGREL.]
-
-Nevertheless he went to Eliza and said: “Why not try a little juice of
-the beef? Meat, as all know, is the food for grown dogs. Why not the
-juice of the meat for young dogs without teeth to chew the solid? I’ll
-step around to the butcher’s, Eliza.”
-
-He returned from the butcher’s with a pound of chopped beef. Eliza put
-the water to it; and early the next morning Timothy might again have
-been seen kneeling on the hay. He endeavored to persuade the puppies
-that his cup had invigorating properties and a cure for blindness; and
-urged them as they loved life and desired to view the face of nature,
-to partake. But, alas, once more for canine reason! One after another
-they sniffed, spit, sputtered, wailed and retreated.
-
-“You’re a mongrel, brutish set,” said Timothy, in righteous
-indignation; “and I’ll be blowed if you’re worth saving!”
-
-But before he could leave them to their fate, either his words, or a
-sudden instinct of self-preservation, turned one of the retreating
-puppies straight about. Timothy was not inclined to offer any
-assistance and run the risk of another disappointment. But when it
-became evident that the puppy was trying to smell his way to the
-beef-tea, he put the cup under his nose, and was rewarded by seeing a
-small pink tongue come out for a taste. One taste led to another and
-another, until the little fellow had breakfasted bravely, and Timothy
-was so rejoiced that he tried the obstinate three again. But his
-efforts were vain; and he fastened all his hopes on the good puppy,
-whose conduct he hastened to report to Bob and Billy.
-
-[Illustration: THE BEEF-TEA PREVAILS.]
-
-Now whether medical science will allow any direct connection between
-beef-tea and the eyes, we do not know, but it is certain that when
-Billy entered the barn two hours later he was startled by a bright
-gaze. If a pair of stars had fallen from the sky to gaze at him out
-of that corner, he could hardly have been more amazed than to discover
-that the bright objects were the eyes of a dog--of his little dog.
-
-“Bob! Timothy!” he screamed. But before they could arrive he had
-bounded towards the puppy and lifted him up. Seated upon Billy’s hands
-he held his head erect and looked at his master with (the foolish
-master fancied) affectionate recognition.
-
-“It’s the beef-tea!” said Timothy, who had by this time arrived.
-
-“And thanks to you, old friend,” said Billy. “He’ll live now, Tim. Do
-you s’pose he’d change the world that’s to be taken a good look at for
-a hole in the ground? Not he!”
-
-“You’re right!” said Timothy. “We must make these blind fellows take
-some of the eye-opener and get a look at the world before it’s too
-late.”
-
-They were all so encouraged by that pair of bright eyes that they
-labored patiently with the three blind brothers; but though they still
-partook of oatmeal porridge freely, they could never be induced to
-imbibe more than an occasional drop of beef-tea; and instead of waxing
-fat and active on oatmeal, they waned daily.
-
-All the love which Billy had divided among seven was given to the
-quartette; and so a greater portion was blighted when the next puppy
-died.
-
-“It makes me think of the ‘ten little Injuns,’ the way they drop off
-one after another,” said Billy, as they laid him away from the sunshine
-which he had never seen.
-
-So the love of four fell to three; and though Billy was very proud
-of the puppy who ate beef-tea, who was learning to walk firmly and
-briskly, he was equally as tender of the less fortunate brothers. It is
-true that on entering the barn one morning he forgot them for a moment
-as the other trotted towards him and laid--yes, actually rubbed!--his
-nose in his hand. But he recovered from the glad surprise directly, and
-looked over at the bed in the corner. Still asleep, the lazy fellows!
-He tossed some hay at them, which caused a languid paw to appear; then
-a head stirred, and another until the little soft heap had shaken
-itself apart and separated into two puppies, who faced about and looked
-at each other. Yes, for the first and last time, they celebrated their
-awakening after the usual fashion of opening the eyes.
-
-“Hurrah!” shouted Billy.
-
-(END OF PART I.)
-
-[Illustration: IN YE OLDEN TIME.--“BEWITCHED!”]
-
-
-
-
-[Illustration]
-
-BILLY’S HOUND.
-
-(_A Two-Part Story._)
-
-BY SARA E. CHESTER.
-
-
-PART II.
-
-But it was his last hurrah; for puppies, like people, view the world
-through their own eyes, and where their brother had seen, approved, and
-desired, they gazed quite indifferently. Bob and Billy carried them
-out-doors for a broader view of life; but could not persuade them that
-sunshine and verdure were more to be desired than two snug little beds
-underground. Better death, with no good Puppy-land to go to; better
-an end of all things, than life with its ups and downs, its roses and
-thorns, the uncertain joys and certain ills that puppy flesh is heir
-to--such seemed their reflections as they gazed upon the world with
-languid, melancholy eyes. They shunned their brother’s gay society;
-they refused food and wailed with hunger; they partook of a little and
-wailed with pain; one died in the evening, yawning and stretching; the
-other in the morning, kicking and squealing; two new graves were dug
-under the apple-tree: and one puppy fell heir to the love of six.
-
-“I wouldn’t care so much if they hadn’t opened their eyes,” said Billy;
-“but I thought they were sure to live then. It’s discouraging, I
-declare; I’m afraid it’s going to end like the ten little Injuns, ‘And
-then there were none.’”
-
-“No, it won’t,” said Bob. “We’ll raise this fellow.”
-
-“Yes,” said Timothy, “he’s going to live.” When Timothy spoke so
-positively one could afford to hope.
-
-“Do you hear?” said Billy, capturing the lively puppy, who was behaving
-like anything but a mourner after the funeral. “We have hopes of you,
-sir; and beware how you disappoint us. See what obstinacy has done, and
-take warning by your brothers. I advise you to make the most of all the
-life you’ll ever get, for it isn’t soul that gives you such a knowing
-look. There is nothing behind those eyes but brains; and brains die out
-as much as bodies, sir. Bob,” he exclaimed, “see him look at me. Don’t
-tell me he doesn’t understand!”
-
-“I wouldn’t risk such an opinion,” said Bob. “They say that eyes
-are the windows of the mind. Now that he’s got his windows open why
-shouldn’t you take looks back and forth.”
-
-“Pretty good,” said Billy. “Duke has spied out the fact, somewhere,
-that I’m his master.”
-
-They had named him, in contempt of Timothy, and in anticipation of the
-rank which was expected to assert itself with his growth.
-
-“He certainly makes a difference between you and the rest of us,” said
-Bob.
-
-The difference became more marked each day. In no one’s hand did Duke
-rub his little nose so often as in his master’s; no one else’s cheeks
-were licked so affectionately. It was Billy that he trotted after, and
-squealed for, when the big gate separated them and his master’s face
-was set towards home. These signs of preference were very flattering
-to Billy, but also caused him pangs, for the fonder he became of the
-dog, the more he feared to lose him. Although he increased rapidly in
-bulk, strength, vivacity and intelligence, it was a long time before
-Billy could cease to be alarmed if he appeared languid, over-slept,
-or ate lightly. However, he developed at last into such a sturdy
-fellow that anxiety on his account was absurd. All lingering doubts as
-to his loyalty, also, came to an end, for Billy had feared that his
-best affections might be won over to the master who fed him. But Duke
-knew his own master, and did not seem disposed to inquire why he was
-banished from his table.
-
-[Illustration: AFTER HIS MASTER.]
-
-The devotion of “Bob’s dog” to Billy was a constant source of surprise
-to the boys who had not heard the secret of the mastership. Wherever
-Billy went, the dog was sure to go--unless ordered to the contrary, for
-whatever Billy ordered, the dog was sure to do. His absolute obedience,
-rather than natural talent, made him the accomplished fellow which he
-became. Billy’s will was his dog’s will, and so great was the patience
-of both teacher and scholar that in course of time there was hardly
-a dog in town so skilled as Duke in leaping, vaulting, fetching and
-carrying, so at home on land and water--whether summoned to scour a
-field, explore a bush, stem a tide, or save a boy from drowning.
-
-Assured, then, of his life and loyalty, proud of his character and his
-accomplishments, Billy had but two things to regret: that Duke was a
-plebeian and an exile.
-
-He had grown to full size, and neither developed into pointer, spaniel
-nor mastiff; into setter, Irish or English; into hound, fox, blood or
-grey. Indeed, he had not the positive traits which would admit him into
-any family, however humble. Duke was hopelessly “mongrel.”
-
-Considering his stubby paws, blunt nose, ungainly shape and indefinite
-color on the one hand, and on the other his intelligence, good-humor,
-honor and fidelity, Billy could not but learn a gradual lesson on the
-folly of judging from appearances. Never, he reflected, was canine
-exterior more plebeian, canine character more noble. So, though
-something of an aristocrat by nature, radical principles slowly worked
-in Billy’s mind, until one day, at Timothy’s suggestion that he should
-change Duke’s name, he was prepared to answer:
-
-[Illustration: HE WAS A FAMOUS VAULTER.]
-
-“No, sir! I believe people ought to rank according to their actions.
-What difference does it make how you happen to look, or what family
-you happen to be born into, if you’re a good fellow? My dog and I are
-Americans, and we’ll stand by our principles, and take rank according
-to the way we behave; won’t we, old fellow? I claim that he’s a duke in
-character, Tim; and he’s handsome enough to suit me. I wouldn’t have a
-spot on him changed now.”
-
-To which plebeian Timothy, with an approving smile, replied:
-
-“There’s no danger of his getting stolen, neither, Billy, for the price
-he’d fetch in market; no more’n he’ll get shot or poisoned for his bad
-temper.”
-
-“No great loss without some small gain,” said Billy. “I’m satisfied,
-except for one thing, Tim.”
-
-That one remaining cause of dissatisfaction Timothy appreciated. He
-knew that Billy would never be contented to have the dog which he had
-saved from death, reared and educated an exile from his home; and,
-though he and Bob would have missed Duke from their table, they made
-various plans for getting him admitted to Billy’s.
-
-“I was screwing up my courage to lay the case before father,” said
-Billy, “when out he came with something about that ugly little dog of
-Bob’s that he’d seen around our house. He warned me not to encourage
-him--but I can tell you it’s hard work to keep Duke away, though he’s
-such an obedient fellow, and the cook never feeds him.”
-
-“Billy,” said Bob, “he’ll have to save your father’s life. That’s the
-way the enemies in books always get into favor. Can’t you have him pull
-him out of the water one of these windy days?”
-
-“That’s not such a bad suggestion,” said Billy; “the best you’ve made
-yet. What do you think, Duke? Could you swim a mile and pull him
-ashore? I believe he’s equal to it, Bob; and you know father’s always
-tipping over. He generally rights himself, to be sure; but he may
-be glad of a little assistance some time. I’ll keep Duke trained on
-bringing logs ashore, and we’ll be on the lookout windy mornings; for
-father never misses a breeze.”
-
-But many a windy morning a dog and his master saw a stout gentleman set
-sail in a frail bark on a crafty sea; many a morning they roamed the
-beach, practicing on drowning logs, as they watched the wind sport with
-a distant sail; and however the sail might swell and veer, and lie over
-toward the waves, it always came erect and stately into port, while a
-stout gentleman stepped safely ashore.
-
-“The winds are against us, Duke,” said Billy. “There’s no use in
-fooling around the shore any longer. I’m going to make a bold strike
-to-day; and if father won’t listen to reason, we’ll just have to give
-it up--unless we run away and live together. What do you say to that?”
-
-Duke replied by a series of barks which Billy understood to signify
-assent.
-
-“We’ll try father first,” said Billy.
-
-He waited till his father was in his after-dinner mood. He followed him
-from the dining-room to the piazza, watched his chair go back on two
-legs, his feet go up on the railing, his cigar take its place in his
-teeth, the smoke curl and climb, the newspaper turn and turn, and still
-the courage of the boy on the steps did not rise to the occasion. It
-was not until the chair came down on four feet, and the stump of cigar
-dropped over the railing, that Billy ventured to speak:
-
-“Father!”
-
-He looked so well pleased with life as he walked, portly and smiling,
-towards his hat, that Billy thought now, if ever, he would be willing
-to please his son.
-
-Hats of various shapes and degrees hung upon the rack. There was the
-broad-brimmed straw in which Judge Jenks appeared the country squire;
-there was the little cloth cap in which he rode the waves a gallant
-mariner; there was the soft felt which suited rough-and-ready moods;
-there was the second-best beaver; and there was the best beaver, known
-to Billy and his sisters as the “Pet and Pride.”
-
-The choice to-day fell on the “Pet and Pride.”
-
-“Good luck!” thought Billy. “I can get anything out of him when he’s
-petting that hat.”
-
-“Well, my son,” said papa, holding the hat in one hand and passing the
-other caressingly around and around the crown, until the fur lay in
-silkiest smoothness.
-
-But Billy waited until the hat was on, and papa surveyed the result
-in the mirror. It gave him an elegant judicial aspect, and was vastly
-becoming beyond a doubt.
-
-“Now’s my time,” thought Billy.
-
-“Father,” said he, “I’d like to have a little talk with you--a little
-discussion on a certain subject.”
-
-“What is it?” said papa. “The Greenback movement? Or have you been
-catching Communism from Pat? What is it, Billy? Have you got the
-questions of the day settled for us? Which shall it be: hard or soft
-money, free-trade or the tariff?”
-
-“I’m not just up on those matters, sir,” said Billy. “It’s a different
-subject.”
-
-“Well,” said papa, giving the “Pet and Pride” a parting glance, ere he
-walked to the door, “well, Billy, what is it?”
-
-“It’s--it’s--dogs, sir,” said Billy, meekly.
-
-Stern and cold grew the beaming face beneath the “Pet and Pride.”
-Aversion was in the tones which repeated Billy’s word “_Dogs!_”
-
-“And what have you to say on this subject?” inquired his father; “that
-they are faithful, trusty beasts? I tell you they are treacherous and
-villainous; that you wish to own one for no reason but that they are
-odious to your father and you are determined to have your own way! I
-reply better than you deserve, and offer you once more a goat, or a
-pair of them.”
-
-“Thanks. It’s a dog or nothing, sir,” said Billy.
-
-“As you please,” said his father. “But understand that this subject
-is not to come up again. Nothing could induce me to have a snarling,
-snapping, vicious, treacherous cur on the premises; and you are never
-to mention dogs to me again, sir.”
-
-Billy stalked out of one gate and his father out of another.
-
-“He has the Jenks will,” reflected his father, not without an emotion
-of pride. “A dog or nothing, indeed!”
-
-But the Jenks will did not support Billy very bravely as he walked on
-towards Bob’s; and by the time he reached the gate, anger, pride and
-all harsh, inspiring feelings had given place to sadness. Bob told
-Timothy afterwards that he had never seen Billy so nearly “floored.” He
-did not need to ask the result of his interview; but proposed that he
-should accompany him to the post-office, whither he was hastening with
-a letter.
-
-The wind which had lured Billy to the shore in the morning still rose
-in fitful gusts, playing tricks with all detached objects, greatly to
-the delight of Duke who ran in pursuit of every flying thing.
-
-Billy’s eyes followed the dog gloomily.
-
-“If it wasn’t for that leg of father’s that got bitten thirty years
-ago!” he said. “Speaking of angels, there goes father now. Hold on to
-your hat, Bob.”
-
-Each boy seized his hat as a sudden gust came sweeping down the street.
-But papa, who had appeared in view a block ahead of them, walked calmly
-on, as if assured that no impertinent breeze would dare molest the “Pet
-and Pride.” He was so confident and careless that the wind could not
-resist taking him down a little, and lifting the hat whirled it about
-his head.
-
-The uncovered judge put forth his hand, but the movement was too grave
-and deliberate; the wind wished to play tag, and it takes two to play
-at that game, so the judge must be taught how. As the deliberate hand
-almost reached the hat, off skipped the wind with it, compelling the
-judge with a stately skip to follow. But he could be taught even
-swifter motions than those; a second time he almost reached the hat,
-and it moved on with a hop and a whirl; while he, with something like
-a hop and a whirl, moved after. But still the hat, so near his hand,
-was not in it. His indignation rose. He could not allow matters to
-proceed after this unruly fashion. With a plunge he pounced on his
-property--when, lo! it lay across the ditch in the dust of the road,
-while his tormentor laughed at him!
-
-But no, it was not the wind that laughed after all, though it seemed
-quite human enough to do so--the shrill tones proceeded from three
-open mouths on the corner. How dare those ragged urchins lift up their
-voices in derision of a Judge of the Supreme Court! Better, perhaps,
-to lose the hat than gratify them by pursuing it. But it was his “Pet
-and Pride”--by no means an inexpensive affair; a city hat, only to be
-replaced by a day’s journey; and then he might never find such an easy
-fit again.
-
-After two or three somersets the hat stood still, unhurt, except for a
-little dust. The wind fell as suddenly as it had risen, and the judge
-was enabled to recover his property without sacrificing his dignity. At
-least so he flattered himself as he walked at his usual gait over the
-ditch, into the road. He had not calculated on another gust; and when
-the hat was actually snatched almost out of his grasp again, rather
-than become the sport of those rascals on the corner he decided to let
-it go, and run the risk of getting it at the next ebb of the wind.
-
-He was turning away when he happened to see near the corner a big,
-black mud-puddle, lying in wait for unwary victims of the wind. If the
-wind and water had conspired to tease him they could not have succeeded
-better. While the hat was blown directly towards the puddle, the water
-was at the same time lashed upward to show him how black and muddy it
-was, how totally destructive to hats.
-
-He felt tempted to pursue the “Pet and Pride” at a flying gait; but as
-he paused to consider the boys on the corner, the mud-puddle lost its
-terrors in a new object which appeared upon the scene. This was nothing
-less than a dog that came galloping after the hat with almost the speed
-of the wind. Better that the “Pet and Pride” should be drowned in the
-muddiest depths than become a puppy’s plaything, thought the judge. It
-was too late for him to rescue it by this time. The hat was doomed to
-the dog or the water--the water he sincerely hoped, as he prepared to
-seek the nearest store where a covering for his head could be found.
-
-But as he was turning away he observed that the chances were in the
-dog’s favor. It was wonderful to see those four little paws fly over
-the ground. They were gaining on the wind, no doubt about it. Gaining,
-gaining--till the race was so close that one must wait a moment and see
-it out. “Ah, the rascal has it! No, you little scamp, you’re beaten!
-You didn’t count on that gust, sir!”
-
-But as the judge so soliloquized, a familiar voice behind him shouted,
-“Fly, Duke, fly!” With a leap those four winged feet overtook the
-gust; and there stood the dog at the edge of the mud-puddle, carefully
-holding the “Pet and Pride” in his teeth.
-
-The judge recognized that “ugly little dog of Bob’s” at the same time
-that he recognized his son’s voice; and presently he discovered that
-the race had been run not for his torment, nor for mere amusement, but
-for the purpose of rescuing and restoring his property.
-
-“Well, well,” said the judge, as Duke trotted up and presented the hat
-to him; “well, well, Bob, you’ve a fine dog, sir; a gentlemanly fellow,
-upon my word. You’ve trained him well, Bob. He does you credit, he does
-indeed.”
-
-Bob rapped Billy with his elbow, as much as to say, “Here’s your golden
-opportunity; speak up!”
-
-“He’s mine, sir,” Billy blurted out.
-
-“_Yours!_” said the judge, removing his hand from the canine head he
-was actually condescending to pat; “_yours!_”
-
-Encouraged by another rap Billy continued:
-
-“You can’t say that he’s ever given you any trouble, father. He’s never
-eaten a mouthful at home.”
-
-“What do you think of such deception, sir?” said his father. “Do you
-mean to tell me that you have been boarding him out?”
-
-“No, sir; he lives on charity. Bob supports him.”
-
-“Charity!” said his father. “What do you mean, sir?”
-
-But as he dusted the “Pet and Pride,” caressing it as of old, he took
-a kindly peep at the little head by his knee, and gave it one more pat
-before moving away.
-
-“You’re all right, old boy,” said Bob. “You’ve had your chance; that
-wind did you a good turn, after all. It doesn’t sound quite so fine to
-say Duke saved his hat as his life, but it amounts to the same in the
-end. Just keep cool, Billy, and you’re all right.”
-
-It was not very easy to keep cool, however. Billy hoped and watched and
-waited a whole day before the subject of dogs was mentioned again.
-
-“Where did you get him?” asked his father, as the smoke began to curl
-from his after-dinner cigar.
-
-“Him?” said Billy, confusedly. “Oh, Duke? I found him in the graveyard,
-with six more. The mother had left them, and I couldn’t let them
-die--though the rest did, after all. But we succeeded in raising Duke;
-and I couldn’t part with him after all that, sir.”
-
-“Don’t attempt to excuse your obstinacy,” said his father, inwardly
-commenting on “that Jenks will.” “He’s a trained animal, I see. That is
-where the time has gone which should have been devoted to Latin. A very
-bad report that last, sir. Is he anything of a mouser?”
-
-“Splendid!” said Billy.
-
-Nothing more was said until the “Pet and Pride,” after the usual amount
-of caressing, was surveyed in the mirror--then tender memories prompted
-papa to say, gruffly:
-
-“He is not to live on charity like a beggar. Shut him up in the
-store-room, if he’s good for anything, and let him have it out with the
-rats. But keep him away from me, sir. Let him be fed in the basement,
-but let him understand that he is not to come above ground where I can
-see him; and remember that he is on trial--distinctly on trial.”
-
-[Illustration: WITH DUKE’S COMPLIMENTS.]
-
-The glad news was at once conveyed to Duke, Bob and Timothy; and Billy
-was a happy boy--for a few days. Like other mortals of whom we hear,
-having gained much he wished to gain more. He was not satisfied that
-Duke had conquered the rats and won the servants’ affections. He wished
-his higher accomplishments to shine in higher circles. He wanted his
-dog admitted to the full privileges of citizenship. He longed to
-introduce him to his own room on the second floor, and he found stern
-discipline necessary to keep him from the first floor.
-
-Having investigated the kitchen, Duke felt a natural curiosity as to
-the parlor, and he was often caught on the top stair, peeping into the
-hall. Billy’s sisters called him up, but could not make him disobey his
-master. However he might stretch his neck, wag, cry and peer wistfully,
-he could not be tempted to put a paw on the hall floor.
-
-“Where did he learn obedience?” said the judge one day, after observing
-his daughters’ vain attempts. “Certainly not of his master. But perhaps
-you know the secret, Billy, and can give it to me to try on my son. I
-should like to see if there’s anything to be done with that will of
-his.”
-
-“Duke has never had any teacher but me, sir,” said Billy. “Shall I
-forbid his coming on the stairs?”
-
-“Come up here,” said the judge, snapping his fingers towards Duke.
-“Let’s see what you think of this hall before we send you down.”
-
-But to his surprise the dog did not obey.
-
-“Come!” said Billy; and at the word he leaped toward his master,
-then looked about for some means of expressing gratitude. Spying a
-newspaper, and newspapers and elderly gentlemen being associated in his
-mind, he fetched it and presented it to the judge. The next noon he was
-summoned again. By that time he had discovered that the newspaper was
-taken with the cigar, and no sooner saw the one produced than he ran
-in search of the other. After a few days it happened that the judge
-dropped all responsibility in regard to his paper. He took his cigar
-and sat down, assured that wherever the paper might be, to what remote
-corner of the house any careless member of the family might have taken
-it, that knowing little dog would find it for him.
-
-[Illustration: THE CIRCUS.]
-
-Having proved that he was a useful member of society, Billy wished Duke
-to display his higher accomplishments, and one day introduced to the
-dining-room what was known down-stairs as the Circus. Judge Jenks was
-greatly entertained, and the next day undertook to be circus-manager
-himself. He succeeded so well that it became an after-dinner custom for
-Duke to speak, leap and dance at his bidding. It was funny to see the
-portly gentleman whistling sprightly airs, with the greatest gravity
-of countenance, while the little dog, with countenance as grave, spun
-around on two feet, wholly intent upon keeping time to the tune. He
-would become a lion, monkey, or squirrel at command, but the last was
-his favorite character, as it involved nuts, which he must sit upright
-and nibble. After his fondness for almonds was discovered Billy noticed
-that they were seldom missing from dessert without being called for.
-By many little indications he was persuaded that Duke’s merits had
-overcome his father’s prejudices. But after all Duke was only a dog,
-with faults as well as virtues; and while he was still on trial Billy
-could not help fearing that some mischievous prank might end the trial
-unfavorably. He waited many days, hoping that his father would declare
-the probation ended; but at last there came a day when Duke gave a
-table-cloth a shaking which brought the judge’s favorite meerschaum
-pipe to ruin. Billy considered the misfortune fatal.
-
-[Illustration: NOTHING COULD BE WORSE THAN THIS.]
-
-“It’s come at last. All’s up with us,” he thought, as he administered
-the punishment customary for such offences. But what was his surprise
-to hear his father say, sternly:
-
-“That will do; that will do, sir! Who left the pipe on the table? You
-had better find out and save some of your blows for the chief offender.
-How would you fare if I should deal out justice to you at that rate?
-Dogs will be dogs, sir; and Duke’s none the worse for an occasional
-overflow of spirits.”
-
-“Thank you, father, for defending my dog,” said Billy, warmly. “I was
-afraid it might end in my having to part with him.”
-
-“Part with him?” said his father. “A very good suggestion. The best
-thing you can do. I advise you to part with him by all means. I should
-recommend an elderly gentleman who has learned to temper justice with
-mercy; one who needs a cheerful, young companion, competent and
-willing either to wait upon him or amuse him; one who will promise
-the dog a permanent home, and agree not to be too hard upon him for
-trifling offences. Allow me to recommend Judge Jenks, sir.”
-
-“With Judge Jenks’ permission, I’ll take the home and keep the dog,”
-said Billy.
-
-“We will call it a bargain,” said his father, his eyes twinkling as he
-added, “remarkable what a difference there is in dogs; eh, Billy?”
-
-“Yes, sir!” said Billy.
-
-
-
-
-PUSSY WILLOW AND THE SOUTH WIND.
-
-
-  Fie! moping still by the sleepy brook?
-  Little Miss Pussy, how dull you look!
-
-  Prithee, throw off that cloak of brown,
-  And give me a glimpse of your gray silken gown!
-
-  My gray silken gown, Sir Wind, is done,
-  Put its golden fringes are not quite spun.
-
-  What a slow little spinner! pray, pardon me,
-  But I have had time to cross the sea.
-
-  Haste forth, dear Miss Pussy! the sky is blue,
-  And I’ve a secret to whisper to you.
-
-  Nay, nay, they say Winds are changeful things,
-  I’ll wait, if you please, till the Bluebird sings.
-
-
-
-
-LITTLE SISTER AND HER PUPPETS.
-
-BY REV. W. W. NEWTON.
-
-
-[Illustration: GOOD NIGHT, LOVELY STAR.]
-
-There was a dear little girl once whose name was Emily, but everybody
-called her “Little Sister,” because she was so sweet, and loved
-everyone.
-
-She couldn’t pronounce some words plainly, and people used to get her
-to talk, on purpose to hear the cunning words used.
-
-She used to sing a little song before she went to bed, and this was the
-way she sang it:
-
-  “Good night nitten tar (little star)
-    I mun (must) go to my bed
-  And neave (leave) you to burn
-    While I nay (lay) down my head,
-
-  On my pinnow (pillow) to neep (sleep)
-    Till the morning light,
-  When you mill (will) be fading
-    And I mill (will) be bight (bright).”
-
-As she sang this little song, she would lean her face up against the
-window pane and throw a sweet kiss to the star and say, “Dud night, you
-nubny (lovely) nitten (little) tar!” (star.)
-
-“Little Sister” used to make everybody love her who came near her. The
-grown-up people would always want to take her right up in their laps,
-and the little children loved to have her come up with her flowing
-silken hair and put her arms around them and kiss them.
-
-When she went out with her sled in winter time, the gentlemen used to
-want to pull her, and the little boys would always drag her sled up
-hill again after a slide.
-
-This was because she was so kind and sweet, and had such polite ways.
-
-Little Sister used to love to go and see some puppets which were
-exhibited at a Punch-and-Judy show near where she lived.
-
-The men used to stand under a great overspreading elm tree and work
-their puppets there, but there were so many people around the show that
-she could not see it plainly. Betsey, her nurse, used to hold her up,
-but still Little Sister couldn’t see it all.
-
-On Little Sister’s fourth birthday, when she came down into the
-dining-room at breakfast time, what should she see over in one corner
-of the room but a puppet stand, with six puppets. First of all there
-was Punch, and then there was Judy; then there was the Doctor and the
-Judge, and the Policeman and Sheriff.
-
-She was delighted. “Where did this come from?” she asked.
-
-Then her papa told her that he had had the stand made for her, and had
-bought the puppets as a birthday present.
-
-These puppets he worked with his thumb and fingers.
-
-“Oh! what nubney nitten puppets!” said Little Sister, and off she ran
-to show them to her mamma.
-
-Then in the afternoon of her birthday, her mother invited some little
-friends to come in and see the first exhibition of Little’s Sister’s
-puppets.
-
-Nobody could see how her papa worked them from behind the stand.
-
-They were ever so funny. One puppet was named Tommy, and he sat down to
-eat a piece of meat. Then the pussy-cat came on the boards, and walked
-right up to Tommy to take away the meat he had in his hands. Tommy gave
-the cat a hit on the head with his funny arm, and then pussy stood up
-on her hind legs and hit Tommy back. Finally pussy got hold of the
-piece of meat and jumped down, while poor little Tommy was left alone
-crying. Pussy was beautifully dressed up with a white paper ruffle
-around her neck, and pink ribbons tied on her feet and tail.
-
-[Illustration: LITTLE SISTER’S BIRTHDAY PRESENT.]
-
-Then Tommy brought his naughty cat who had stolen the meat, before
-the Judge, an old wise-looking man, with a grey wig on, and the Judge
-sentenced pussy to be put in prison.
-
-There was a prison all ready, which Little Sister’s papa had made out
-of a paper box. There were slats in it, and it was painted black, and
-had the word “Prison” printed at the top of it in large black letters.
-
-Poor pussy, the thief, looked very sadly when the puppet policeman
-marched her off to prison.
-
-Then there was old Punch, who threw the baby out of the window, and was
-also taken before the Judge and was hanged.
-
-Then Tommy got sick from eating too much meat, and the Doctor had to
-come and bleed him. This made all the little folks laugh ever so much.
-
-After this, Judy went to a store to buy some sausage, and when she got
-it home it turned into a snake and ran away.
-
-[Illustration: THE POLICEMAN PUTS PUSSY IN A SAFE PLACE.]
-
-Then Tommy took up his father’s musket to fire it off and the gun went
-to pieces, and poor little Tommy was blown up in the air; his head and
-hands and feet were all blown away from his body and there was nothing
-left of him.
-
-Then there was a paper doll named Polly Flinders, who set herself on
-fire.
-
-This was the song Little Sister’s papa sang in a piping, squeaky
-voice, when he made little Polly dance:
-
-  “Little Polly Flinders
-  Sat among the cinders
-   A-warming her pretty little toes;
-  Her mother came and caught her
-  And spanked her little daughter
-   For burning her nice new clothes.”
-
-When he got through singing this funny little song, he would set
-Polly on fire and then put her in a toy wash-tub, and all of a sudden
-a little fire-engine would appear and squirt water on her in the
-wash-tub. Then the curtain would drop down, and Punch would put his
-head out and say in a squealing little voice, “Children, don’t you ever
-play with fire.”
-
-These were some of the ways in which Little Sister and her papa amused
-their friends on Saturday afternoons.
-
-Sometimes Little Sister and her brother invited poor children to come
-in and see the funny puppets work. Sometimes these little children went
-with their papa while he showed the puppets to poor little children in
-some of the houses and asylums in the city where they lived.
-
-One time they all went to the Children’s Hospital, where the sick
-children were, and made the poor little things laugh over the funny
-doings of Tommy and Jerry, and Pussy and Polly Flinders.
-
-And in this way dear Little Sister and her little playthings did good
-to others; for we can serve God and be doing good by making others
-happy even in our plays, and with the toys which are given to us,
-instead of keeping them selfishly for ourselves.
-
-[Illustration]
-
-[Illustration: FIRST SPRING FLOWERS.]
-
-
-
-
-SPRING FUN.
-
-
-  The best of fun, I tell you, boys--
-    I wonder if you know?--
-  Is to get a dozen polywogs
-    And find out how frogs grow.
-
-  You go and catch them in the pond,
-    Along in early spring;
-  And when you stir them up--O, my!
-    They squirm like anything!
-
-  They are just like a little spot
-    Of jelly, with two eyes;
-  And such a funny little tail,
-    Of quite astounding size.
-
-  You put them in a great big dish--
-    A large bowl is the best.
-  They swim and squirm, and squirm and swim,
-    And never seem to rest.
-
-  Put in some dirt and water plants--
-    I’ve known them to eat meat.
-  They’ll grow and grow so beautiful
-    The girls would call them _sweet_.
-
-  And bunches by and by appear--
-    On each side there are two.
-  And little legs, like sprouting plants,
-    Will pretty soon peep through.
-
-  The legs grow long, the tail grows short;
-    And by and by you’ll see
-  There isn’t any tail at all
-    Where a tail used to be.
-
-  And froggy now can jump on land,
-    Or in the water swim.
-  And scientific men will now
-    “Amphibious” call him.
-
-
-
-
-THE LOST DIMPLE.
-
-BY MARY D. BRINE.
-
-
-  My little boy lies in his trundle bed,
-  With chubby arms above his head,
-  And a rosy flush on his cheek so fair,
-  And a gleam of gold in his tangled hair;
-  His beautiful eyes, so soft and blue,
-  ’Neath rose leaf lids are hidden from view;
-  For sound asleep is my little boy,
-  My troublesome comfort, baby Roy!
-
-  But ah! there’s something upon his cheek
-  Of which I do not like to speak;
-  So I kneel beside my baby dear,
-  And softly _kiss away the tear_.
-  And I kiss from his rosy mouth a _pout_,
-  Which even slumber has not smoothed out.
-  And I have another kiss to spare,
-  To smooth the frown from his forehead fair.
-
-  How came the tear and the pout and frown
-  On this dear little face to settle down?
-  Ah well! I’m sorry to have to say
-  That Roy was a naughty boy to-day.
-  It wasn’t pleasant to play, you see,
-  When Roy and mamma couldn’t agree;
-  So he went to Dreamland to find a smile,
-  And the dimples will come in a little while.
-
-  There’s one should be in his cheek, right there,
-  And one belongs in his chin. ’Tis rare
-  That I look in vain for the merry trace
-  Of the winsome dimples in baby’s face!
-  But, by and by, he will open his eyes,
-  All soft and blue as the summer skies:
-  And when he laughs at my merry call,
-  I shall find the dimples, the smiles, and all.
-
-
-
-
-[Illustration]
-
-THE OTHER SIDE OF THE STORY.
-
-BY KATE LAWRENCE.
-
-
-[Illustration: WATCHING FOR PAPA.]
-
-There were once two little bears who lived in a cave in the woods.
-
-Papa Bear had been killed by a hunter, and his skin made into a coat,
-which the hunter wore while killing other bears.
-
-Mamma Bear accepted this hard fact, but the little bears never gave up
-hoping that he would come, and they used to watch for him at the window
-every day.
-
-One day when they were watching, they saw two little boys who had come
-into the woods for berries. Their baskets were about half full, but
-some dispute had arisen, and the luscious fruit hung ungathered while
-the two boys fought--boxing and scratching one another in a manner too
-shocking to be described.
-
-“O, Mamma Bear!” they cried together, “do come and see; here are two
-of those dreadful creatures whom you call boys--they are fighting
-terribly.”
-
-“Don’t stand and look at them, my darlings,” said Mamma B.; (the
-children sometimes called her Mamma B.) “‘evil communications corrupt
-good manners.’”
-
-“What does that mean Mamma B.,” asked the little bears.
-
-Now Mamma Bear did not like this question, for she did not know exactly
-what it meant herself. But she managed to say, “It means, my dears,
-that if you like to stand and watch boys and girls when they are
-quarrelling and fighting, you will soon get to be as bad as they are
-yourselves.”
-
-At this both the little bears put their paws up over their faces, and
-cried, “O, Mamma B.!” for their feelings were dreadfully hurt by this
-comparison. “O, Mamma B., we _couldn’t_ be so bad! never, never!”
-
-“I hope not,” said Mamma B., kindly; “but when I was a little bear, my
-mother used to say, sometimes, that her children were as cross as boys
-and girls.”
-
-“O, Mamma B.!” cried the little bears again. “Boys and girls are
-dreadful creatures, aren’t they?”
-
-[Illustration: THE SLEEP OF THE INNOCENT.]
-
-“Men and women are dreadful creatures,” said Mamma B.; “and though
-their babies are very gentle and playful at first, it will not do to
-trust them. Human nature soon begins to show itself. Men often kill,
-not to get their food, or defend themselves against their natural
-enemies, as bears do, but for the _pleasure_ of killing. Besides they
-kill each other; and that, you know, bears very seldom do.”
-
-“But we kill lambs and calves, mamma dear,” said one little bear,
-proudly; “I have killed a chicken myself!”
-
-“That was for your natural food,” said Mamma Bear, beaming upon him
-fondly. “The most intelligent animals are those which, like bears, eat
-both meat and vegetables. Men are _almost_ as intelligent as we are;
-but they never will be truly wise, until they learn to live in peace
-with each other, as bears do.”
-
-Before the little bears went to bed that night, their mamma taught them
-this pretty little hymn:
-
-  “Let boys delight to scold and fight,
-    For ’tis their nature to;
-  Let naughty children scratch and bite--
-    All human beings do.
-
-  “But little bearies, never let
-    Your angry passions rise;
-  Your little paws were never made
-    To tear each other’s eyes.”
-
-When the little bears could recite this perfectly, they went to sleep
-with their paws around each other’s necks, resolving that they would
-never, never quarrel, for fear that they might sometime get to be as
-bad as boys and girls; and their mamma could not but feel grateful that
-they were so docile.
-
-
-
-
-JACK HORNER.
-
-
-Almost every child has been early taught to repeat the lines:
-
-    “Little Jack Horner
-     Sat in the corner,
-  Eating a Christmas pie;
-     He put in his thumb,
-     And pulled out a plum,
-  And said, ‘What a brave boy am I!’”
-
-And Jack has generally been regarded as a nice, fat little boy, who,
-having pleased his mother by his good conduct, has been rewarded by a
-pie of his own. And we have thought of him as sitting quietly in the
-chimney-corner, enjoying his pie; and when he pulled out that plum,
-wondering if it were full of plums.
-
-But among the many “investigations” of the present day, it appears that
-Jack Horner, though a boy, was a “defaulter” to a serious amount, and
-the plum which he pulled out of his pie cost the life of another.
-
-A tradition which had its rise in the county of Somersetshire, England,
-has at last found a place in history, and seems to be looked upon as
-reliable.
-
-During the imperious reign of Henry VIII., he procured by an act of
-Parliament the abolishment of several hundred monasteries, and a court
-was established for the management of their revenues and their silver,
-all of which he ordered granted for his benefit.
-
-When this act came in force, at the monastery at Wells it was
-determined by the abbot that the title-deeds of the abbey estates, and
-the valuable grange attached, should not be confiscated by the king,
-but sent to the commissioners at London.
-
-The abbot, wishing for some safe method of conveying them, finally hit
-upon this curious device. To avoid their being taken, he thought the
-safest method would be to put them in a pie, which should be sent as a
-present to one of the commissioners. The trustiest messenger, and one
-little likely to excite suspicion, was a boy named Jack Horner, the son
-of poor parents, living in the neighborhood of the monastery. He set
-out on foot carrying the pie.
-
-It was a tiresome journey, and the road probably had few attractions,
-so, selecting a comfortable corner on the wayside, Jack sat down to
-rest. Like most boys on such occasions, he began to think of something
-to eat; and, having no well-filled bag to go to, he thought he might
-take a little from the inside of the pie, and it would never be missed.
-
-So, “he put in his thumb,” when to his astonishment he found only
-papers. This was poor satisfaction to the hungry lad, but he had wit
-enough to conclude that papers sent in such a manner must be valuable,
-so he determined to pocket one, which he did, and pursued his journey.
-
-Upon delivering the pie, it was at once discovered that the chief deed
-was missing, and, as it was thought the abbot had withheld it, an order
-was at once sent for his execution, for not the slightest suspicion
-seems to have fallen upon Jack.
-
-Years after, the paper was found in the possession of Jack’s family,
-which, being the deed to abbey estates, was a “plum” of some value.
-
- 1. Tell in your own words the meaning of the rhyme of “Little Jack
- Horner.”
-
- 2. Do you know any other Mother Goose rhyme that has a hidden meaning?
-
-
-
-
-DOUBLE DINKS.
-
-BY ELIZABETH STODDARD.
-
-
-[Illustration]
-
-Wide awakes, you have not heard of the boy Lolly Dinks that was,
-and is--a boy mitey in body and mighty in mind. He knows himself as
-the son and ruler of Mr. Dinks, a mild, pleasant man, who tears his
-shirt collar in two of mornings when his slippers are in the very
-place he put them, and he can’t find them, and who sits up of nights
-making books out of other people’s thoughts, and calls it a Literary
-Avocation! _I_ call it st--al--ng. What _I_ write comes from my own
-mind and Lolly’s.
-
-Now, as always, the business of my life is to amuse Lolly. Lots of
-oat-meal, beef-tea, little pills, have I taken to keep me up so that
-I might make a successful business. For a time I supposed that I was
-teaching him; but I wasn’t, he was teaching me, and from that he went
-on till I found he governed me. _Did_ you ever hear anything like
-this--me, Mrs. Dinks, his mother, minding Lolly Dinks? Somebody has to
-mind me, and as Mr. Dinks will not read this, I confess I make _him_
-mind.
-
-And I thought myself so clever,--that I was packing, cramming the cells
-of Lolly’s brain with useful in-for-ma-tion, as full as the cells of
-a bee-hive with honey. I did it at all hours, and made a nuisance of
-myself under all circumstances. I’d go on this way: Suppose it a winter
-morning, and breakfast-time. Lolly and I are waiting for the bell to
-ring.
-
-“Lolly,” say I, “little Jack Frost came in last night by the window
-panes; don’t you long to hear about little Jack?” and my voice is sweet
-as a sugar lump.
-
-“No, marmy, I want some beefsteak. I smell it;” and Lolly gives so loud
-a sniff that I have to raise my voice, and thereby lose some of its
-sweetness.
-
-“It is strange so many things should have Jack tied to them,” I
-continued. “There’s Jack-at-a-pinch, Jack-at-all-trades,--”
-
-“Tom Bower,” breaks in Lolly, “has a toy he calls Jack-in-a-box; nasty
-thing, it jumps. I want my egg boiled so hard that this poker couldn’t
-smash it,” and he gives the fender such a bang that my nerves go
-ting-a-ling like a cracked bell,--not like poor Ophelia’s sweet bells,
-jangled, out of tune. But duty requires me to go on, for must not my
-Lolly understand something of great Nature’s laws? With sternness I
-proceed.
-
-“There is, also, Jack-a-dandy, Jack-ass, Jack-a-napes, Jack Ketch, the
-hangman, Jack-pudding--”
-
-“And Jack-straw,” cries Lolly; “and somebody’s lost my set of ivory
-Jack-straws.”
-
-“My son, the substance, or appearance, which we call Jack Frost, is
-rigidly and beautifully regulated by laws, crystals--”
-
-“Where is that boy?” asked papa Dinks, coming from behind his newspaper.
-
-A moment afterward we heard him singing in the breakfast-room, “Spring,
-spring, gentle spring,” and presently found him near a beefsteak
-tranquilly munching a biscuit.
-
-“The childhood,” says Milton, “shows the man, as morning shows the
-day;” but Milton was always saying one thing or another. If this is
-true, what will Lolly’s bump of reverence be when he has grown to be a
-man? Where shall a bank be found rich enough for him to draw the money
-he must have? And how many persons will be hired to find his garters,
-his hat, his knife, his book? I never could abear Paradise Lost, and
-I don’t wonder that the angel with the flaming sword kept Adam and
-Eve out of the garden, for Adam and Eve were a poky pair, after all,
-and could never have raised vegetables; that is, according to Milton.
-As a man, will this said Lolly domineer over his kind, and exact his
-rights? He thinks it hard that children should not have the privilege
-of scolding parents, when the parents are so old and the children so
-young; and why shouldn’t he contradict, when he is contradicted; he
-knows just as well as any old Dinks knows?
-
-Lolly is not a nice hero for a story, but what can I do? He is all the
-Lolly Dinks I have,--a “poor thing, but mine own.” And if I can’t make
-the best of him, I must make the worst; it is “live and Dinks live”
-with me. All is, Wide Awakes, try to help him with his poor traits;
-that is, not make use of them on your own account.
-
-Outside his family circle, which is compact though narrow, my Lolly
-has the reputation of a “perfect gentleman.” Our friends and neighbors
-invite him to dinner and to lunch. Then they tell how good, how
-refined, how sweet his manners, how gentle! And this young Dinks hears
-it all; does he believe so? Why not? He is to these people as he
-appears; but when I try to present to their view an interior picture,
-one I am somewhat familiar with, they return a pitying smile, and
-believe in their hearts that I am describing _myself_, or, at any
-rate, that I am solely to blame for all his shortcomings. I even bring
-up absolute facts. I say, “This morning, when I offered Lolly five
-cents, he tossed away, because I would not give him ten cents.” Or,
-“Yesterday, because I refused to go on the beach in a gale of wind to
-sail his boat, Lolly said, ‘You never do anything for me; you sit in
-your chair and read and read, and I think you are real mean.’” This,
-too, when I had trudged a mile into the woods with him, and lugged home
-a pile of bushes, flowers, and grasses. It is of no use; I am in the
-minority; they sympathize with him, not with me. I must hold my peace,
-but I will ask myself the question, so long as I have the spirit of
-a woman,--not Pilate’s,--whether old people or young people tell the
-truth; but, is it the young people or the old people who lie?
-
-Whatever Lolly’s aspects are, life is a constant surprise and delight
-to him. He walks daily among wonders, as Emerson says. Well, as I have
-said before, this Master Dinks got into the habit of instructing me.
-His style was more imperative and curt than mine. Here is a sample:--
-
-  “Do you wish to know?
-  Listen, Marmy.
-  Shall I tell you?”
-
-Of course I have got to know. His lesson begins: “Suppose, Mrs. Marmy,
-that the moon, being tired of her white color, should wish to borrow a
-few yellow rays from the sun,--where would she find postage stamps to
-get it at the sun post office?”
-
-This terrible conundrum floors me, and I sit dismayed.
-
-“Get ’em from the next rainbow!” he shrieks.
-
-“My Lolly,” I reply, solemnly, “I see you understand the eternal
-fitness of things.”
-
-And then in his turn he is posed, and falls back into his simple child
-ways. He twists himself up into my lap, and rubs his head against my
-shoulder, and says, for the hundredth time,--
-
-“Tell me what you used to do, mother, dear.”
-
-He kisses me; but I must own there is an “ancient and fish-like smell”
-about him, which comes from his fondness for catching minnows, and
-other small deer of the sea. Still it goes for a kiss.
-
-A short tale follows.
-
-Cola Meggs and Sailor Studd were two dogs, whose acquaintance I made
-in my childhood. One was mouse-colored, and the other was white, with
-large black patches; both were large. They hated cats, they hunted
-cats. In the underpinning of our house was a hole where the broken
-crockery was thrown. I used to crawl through this hole to get dishes
-for my family’s table; very odd-shaped dishes, kind of three-cornered
-things they were. The cats hid in this dark place when Cola and Sailor
-were on the war-path, and made themselves very unpleasant. So much so
-that I was often obliged to sit on the doorstep while the battle raged
-between cats and dogs. Then I knew what it meant by reigning cats and
-dogs. One day I sat on the cold, cold doorstep till I grew numb, but my
-brain was on fire. I composed a poem.
-
-  “So Cola Meggs and Sailor Studd
-  Had a fight and fell in mud.
-  Won’t I hang them onto pegs,
-  Even though they have 8 legs.”
-      (The cat was killed.)
-
-“Marmy,” said Lolly, with dignity, “will you please read me Jules
-Verne’s story ‘Round the World.’”
-
-Ah me, the mitey part of my Lolly Dinks had flown into the past, where
-so many little children lie in the amber of a mother’s memory.
-
-He reminds me of the apple blossom and the apple; both are perfect in
-their way, and in the latter the nub of the blossom, from which the
-fruit comes, remains. But this does not make me opposed to apple trees;
-I am not like the man who said he was fond of apples, but he did not
-approve of the cultivation of the apple tree. I am willing that they
-should grow as crooked as they like, and lay their dark arms about
-Tennyson’s fields, and his white kine glimmer as they please.
-
-I also made it one branch of my Dinks amusing business to print some
-of my talks with Lolly. Mr. Gill made a book for me; not the Mr. Gill
-whose teeth Wordsworth has given an immortal chatter to, but a Boston
-Gill. I thought some mothers might find a soothing syrup in the book
-for their Dinks boys. I know one little girl liked it so much that in
-reading it she fell out of bed and bumped her head dreadfully. A boy
-found it in a circulating library, but his mother carried it back the
-next day. She could see neither rhyme nor reason in it, and the boy
-cried, because he said he was afraid there was only one Lolly Dinks
-mother in the world; if there was, he was sure he could be as bad as
-Lolly Dinks, too.
-
-What to do next about Lolly? Some wise person talks to me about the
-transition periods; meantime am I to submit to having all my moral
-corns trod upon, and to watch the growth of his incipient corns? So far
-he has had everything, from Noah’s ark to a schooner-rigged boat, from
-a paint box to a set of croquet. He has had all that money can buy; but
-I have a curious feeling that now he needs something that money cannot
-buy. I hope this confession will not bring down upon my weak head any
-dogmatic, cut-and-dried mamma. I am not at home to her. I have gone
-out: business calls me yonder. Perhaps my own Lolly will tell me what
-to do next. With all his restlessness and perversity, I see how the
-sense of beauty develops in his mind, and that somehow he begins to
-perceive the harmony of goodness; that to be selfish gives him a kind
-of creepy shame.
-
-“Our Father in heaven,” he said, one day. “Where is the Mother?”
-
-Will he see our life better, more clearly, than Mrs. Dinks, his mother,
-or Mr. Dinks, his father? We are waiting to learn.
-
-[Illustration]
-
-
-
-
-LEARNING TO SWIM.
-
-BY EDGAR FAWCETT.
-
-
-  Here I am, papa,
-    In my new tights dressed,
-  Crazy for a bath,
-    It must be confessed.
-
-  Shall we go straight in?
-    Oo! the water’s cold!
-  Let me take your hand,
-    Nice and large to hold.
-
-  I’m a big boy, now,
-    Tall and strong of limb.
-  Eight years old to-day,
-    Yet I cannot swim!
-
-  Teach me, please, papa;
-    Keep my chin up ... so!
-  Not a bit of use--
-    Down I’m sure to go!
-
-  Don’t I kick out right
-    While my arms are spread?
-  O, I really think
-    That I’m made of lead!
-
-  Floundering here, I feel
-    Like so sad a dunce!
-  It’s as though you tried
-    Twenty things at once!
-
-  While you make your strokes
-    Regular and neat,
-  You must also tend
-    To your legs and feet!
-
-  I don’t even float
-    As well as some old log!
-  O, how _can_ you swim
-    Unless you’re born a frog!
-
-
-
-
-SWEETHEART’S SURPRISE.
-
-BY MARY E. C. WYETH.
-
-
-I.
-
-  Rosebud! Goldilocks! Busy Bee!
-  Sweetest of all sweethearts to me!
-  Where art thou hiding? “_Tum an’ see!_”
-        Ah, those rippling child-tones,
-          Sweet with baby glee,
-        Lure my feet to lightness
-          When they summon me.
-
-
-II.
-
-  Where away, darling? Where hast thou fled?
-  Shine out and show me thy sunny-ringed head.
-  Ho! hiding there in my white lily bed!
-           “Ha, ha! pitty mamma!
-            Finks you’se foun’ me out?
-           Dess you tant imazhin
-            What dis dirl’s about.”
-
-
-III.
-
-  “Huwwy up--fas’ you tan--shut ’oo eyes,
-  Sweetheart’s dot such a lovely s’prise!
-  _Peep now_, twick, mamma, _’fore he flies!_”
-        Ope her waxen fingers
-          On a jewel rare:
-        Lo! a gleaming humming-bird,
-          Darting through the air!
-
-
-IV.
-
-  “Flied yite into my hands--dess so.
-  Wasn’t it tunnin’ to see him go?
-  Wasn’t it _lovely_ to _s’prise_ you, though?”
-        Oh, thou wee, wise baby,
-          Early to divine,
-        ’Tis the _sweet surprise_ that makes
-          Simplest joys to shine.
-
-
-
-
-THE CROSS-PATCH.
-
-BY MRS. EMILY SHAW FARMAN.
-
-
-I know a little black-eyed boy, with tight curls all over his head. He
-is very sweet and pleasant when things go right; but he has days when
-everything seems to go wrong, and then he is called Cross-Patch. His
-other name is Frank. When these days come round, everybody wishes it
-was night.
-
-Cross-Patch comes down to breakfast with a red nose and a snuffle, and
-drags his feet along as if they were flat-irons.
-
-Papa hears him coming, and says, “Falling barometer, heavy showers,
-and, possibly, storms.” Papa says this as if he were reading the
-newspaper, but he is really reading Frank.
-
-As Cross-Patch comes into the room and bangs the door, Tom, his big
-brother, exclaims, “Indicative mood!” and Susie, who goes to the
-High School, laughs and says, “Objective case, and _dis_-agrees with
-everybody in the first person singular!”
-
-“I don’t care! I ain’t! and you shan’t laugh at me!” roars Frank.
-
-“Croth-pash!” lisps little Lucy.
-
-“Come here, Frank,” says mamma, very gently, “and tell mamma what is
-the matter.”
-
-“Phebe got soap in my eyes, and she washed my face hard in the middle,
-just as if I didn’t have any nose at all, and the comb stuck in my hair
-every time, and hurt, and--”
-
-“And you got out at the foot of the bed!” says provoking Tom.
-
-“No, I didn’t. I got out at the side; and ’tisn’t fair!” cries Frank.
-
-“No,” says papa, with a sigh, “I see it isn’t; it is very cloudy and
-threatening.”
-
-Then they all laugh, and Cross-Patch gets worse and worse. He sits
-down at the table, and takes a baked potato; it is hot, and burns his
-fingers; so he pushes his plate away very hard, and upsets a glass of
-milk, and has to be sent up stairs. He puts an apple in his pocket, and
-goes off to school without any breakfast. On the way a big bad boy
-takes the apple away from him, just as he is going to take his first
-bite.
-
-At school things are no better. The hardest word in the spelling lesson
-is t-h-r-o-u-g-h, _through_, and of course the teacher gives him
-that word to spell, and he sticks in the middle of it, and can’t get
-_through_.
-
-Then comes the multiplication table, and the teacher asks him “nine
-times four,” and he answers, “sixty-three.” The crosswise has got into
-his brain, and he keeps on saying “sixty-three” till he thinks it is
-right; and then he is very cross when he is told to learn his lesson,
-and stay after school to recite it.
-
-As he goes home he wishes he could meet the man that made the spelling
-book, and the other man that made the multiplication table, so that he
-might knock them both down, and jump on them with all his might a long
-time; but, as he doesn’t see them anywhere, he thinks he will play ball.
-
-He plays that the front gate is the spelling-book man, and that the
-lantern post is the man that made the multiplication table, and he
-sends the ball, first at one, and then at the other, with great fury.
-At last, in a very wild throw, Cross-Patch hits the multiplication
-man--I mean the lantern post--on the head. The pieces come rattling
-down on the sidewalk, and this dreadful noise frightens away all the
-crossness. Frank runs into the house to his mamma, and tells her how
-sorry he is, and begs her to tell papa all about it, and gives her all
-the money in his little savings bank to pay for the broken lantern.
-Then mamma asks him if he is sure that Cross-Patch has gone away
-entirely, and he cries a great shower of tears, and says, “Yes, mamma,
-every inch of him!” and mamma gives Frank some supper, and puts him to
-bed, and tells him to pray to the good angels to drive Cross-Patch very
-far off, in the night, so that he can’t get back for a great many days.
-
-[Illustration]
-
-
-
-
-THE PROUD BANTAM.
-
-BY CLARA LOUISE BURNHAM.
-
-
-  There lived a Bantam rooster on a farm not far away,
-  So haughty and puffed up, as I have heard the neighbors say,
-  That from morning until evening he would strut the country round,
-  And crow aloud self-praises as he stepped along the ground:
-  “I’m Chanticleer Grandissimo, my pedigree is fine,
-  Oh, who can show as yellow claws or such a comb as mine?
-  Where some have one tail feather, I am proudly waving two,
-  And I have an extra doodle to my Cock-a-doodle-doo!”
-
-  The other roosters in the barn-yard talked the matter o’er,
-  The little upstart really was becoming quite a bore.
-  At last a handsome game-cock volunteered to take the case;
-  “It’s time,” he said, “the creature should be taught to know his
-                                                            place;
-  It goes against the grain, my friends, to whip a thing so small,
-  But since it’s for our peace of mind, why--duty first of all!”
-  And hardly had these sentiments escaped the noble bird
-  Than up came little Bantie with his haughty, scornful word.
-
-  The handsome game-cock’s feathers glistened golden in the light;
-  Loud cried the tiny rooster in his coat of snowy white,
-  “Just step aside and let your betters pass, I’ll thank you, sirs!”
-  “We’ve all a right here,” mild replied the owner of the spurs.
-  Oh, then the Bantam tiptoed round: “What’s that I heard you say?
-  I’m Chanticleer Grandissimo!”--ah! in the dust he lay.
-  Above him stood the game-cock like a giant in his might,
-  And round him all the other fowls rejoicing in his fright.
-
-  And while he still lay, giddy, with his dainty claws in air,
-  He was forced to hear a lecture from the other, then and there;
-  And, greatly to the credit of the silly little bird,
-  He changed his manner afterward and heeded every word.
-  “My name is Cock-a-doodle Small,” he meekly learned to say,
-  He minded his own business, nor got in others’ way.
-  So in our world we sometimes find Grandissimos, and all
-  Would do well to recall the fate of Cock-a-doodle Small.
-
-
-[Illustration]
-
-  There is a young man with a cane,
-  Whose thoughts are not fixed upon gain;
-    For he says, “Don’t you see,
-    It’s enough, just to be
-  _Such_ a young man with a cane!”
-
-
-
-
-THE TRUE STORY OF SIMPLE SIMON.
-
-BY HARRIETTE R. SHATTUCK.
-
-
-Once there was a boy named “Simple Simon.”
-
-He wasn’t a pretty boy, for his nose turned up at every thing, and
-the corners of his mouth turned down, and he was always crying for
-something he didn’t possess. He had a tooth come once, but instead of
-being glad that he had something to eat with, he cried all the time
-till he got two more teeth; and even then he wasn’t satisfied and he
-had to have twenty more; such a simple boy as he was!
-
-He had nice little white dresses, but he didn’t like them and cried
-for pants and a jacket; and when he got those he wasn’t contented, but
-wanted some pockets! Just think what an unreasonable boy! They used to
-put him to bed at six o’clock, but a boy down town didn’t go to bed
-till eight, so he cried to sit up till eight; and when they had let him
-do so, was he content? Oh, no! he fussed until they had to allow him to
-go to bed only when the rest of the folks went. Only see what a silly
-boy!
-
-They always gave him bread and milk for his supper, and sometimes
-strawberries and jelly; but he saw that his aunt had sponge cake and
-his uncle warmed-up potatoes, and he thought he must have them too, so
-he cried into his mug and daubed his chin with jelly until they had to
-give _him_ cake and potatoes too. What a greedy boy!
-
-His father gave him a pretty boat with white sails, and a flag on top,
-and he used to pump the sink full of water and sail the boat in it, but
-once he saw a pond, and then he cried to go and sail his boat on that,
-and when they took him there the pond wasn’t big enough! What could
-they do with that boy? He had a rocking-horse at Christmas and he rode
-on it as much as a week without complaining, but one day he discovered
-that his horse wouldn’t go ahead any--only up and down--and he got mad
-at it and pulled out its tail, and then cried for a real horse that
-would kick and go. But they couldn’t keep on giving him all he wanted,
-this funny boy!
-
-He used to read out of a picture-book about “Jane and John,” and “the
-five pond lilies,” until he found a big book in the library that had
-long words in it which he couldn’t understand, and he teased and teased
-until he got somebody to tell him all about it. What an absurd boy he
-was getting to be!
-
-Once a little lady gave him a daisy to wear in his button-hole, but he
-pulled it in pieces instead, and they had to tell him what every part
-was named. His father took him to an Art Exhibition, and he saw a big
-picture of horses and men, but he couldn’t admire it quietly, but had
-to feel of it and find out how it was done; and before he would consent
-to go home his father was obliged to buy him a paint pot and a brush;
-and he spent a whole week trying to paint a horse on one of the barn
-doors--and what a horse! and what a boy! Well, finally he was too big
-to learn at home, (as he already knew more than anyone else in the
-house) and they sent him away to the academy where he studied, like
-the rest of the boys--but when he found out that there were some books
-that the other boys didn’t study, then he insisted on learning _those_
-lessons, and he studied Turkish and Chinese and the Wealth of Nations,
-this wise boy who was no longer contented with doing only what others
-could do!
-
-He never played base ball or cricket, or rowed on the river; these
-things were too common for him--other boys might do so, but he
-preferred to walk in the woods and pull bugs to pieces, write letters
-for the newspapers and talk in debating societies. Thus he was
-different from other boys, and that suited him--but still he didn’t
-feel satisfied yet, this restless boy! and he never did get satisfied
-in all his life, because it was impossible for him to be, though he
-became rich and was sent to Congress and even ran for the Presidency,
-with six or eight other boys. And I suppose if he had been chosen
-Emperor of Russia, he would still have wanted something better, he was
-such an ambitious boy!
-
-So you can see why he was called “Simple Simon.” They might have called
-him a more disagreeable name still if he had been a girl, and acted so.
-
-
-
-
-IN THE TUNNEL OF MOUNT CENIS.
-
-BY MRS. ALFRED MACY.
-
-
-[Illustration: GRANDMOTHER’S CLOCK.]
-
-Leaving Turin, the whole country is mountainous, the tributaries of
-the Po frequently relieving the sameness. The engine now shoots into
-this tunnel, now into that, either of which, from its length, the
-inexperienced traveller might mistake for “the grand.” When, however,
-the approach of the latter was near, there was no misjudging the signs.
-The lights overhead were newly arranged; there was a general quick-step
-on the top of the car; and, too late to draw back, we were, willing or
-unwilling, propelled into “chaos.”
-
-Entering these depths a seriousness takes possession of one similar
-to that which affects a passenger for the first time crossing the
-Suspension Bridge at Niagara Falls. The air seems stupefying, and were
-it not “that the lamp holds out to burn,” you would not believe there
-were any oxygen in the atmosphere.
-
-Subterranean apartments were occasionally seen at the right and left.
-In one instance several persons, perhaps the mountain kings, though by
-no means, in royal robes, appeared to be lunching. The glare of their
-lights was dismal. These rooms, or dens, were invariably near the
-lamp-posts, as though between these points life could not be endurable.
-
-Pastime is out of the question in this Great Tunnel.
-
-As everything seems to be rushing to destruction, reflections are
-a natural consequence during this ride of nearly a half hour. It
-takes but very few minutes to “retrospect” (any word is right in a
-tunnel) one’s whole life. It is surprising too, how thick and fast the
-short-comings present themselves, especially those of childhood. Indeed
-I did not get beyond the first dozen years of my youth, yet they were
-countless. One of these transgressions out of which in later years I
-had had much enjoyment on the review, came to me very significantly
-in the tunnel and I grew very sober over it. Now that I am safely at
-Modane and know that I will _never_ take the route through the “Alpine
-Bore” again, I transcribe a confession of the above in the form of the
-
-
-STORY OF THE CLOCK.
-
-My real name was so short that I was called Nancy, “for long.” I
-was the fourth child in a very large family. The three elder were a
-brother and two sisters. The first, very quick at books and figures,
-finished his education at an early age, and seemed to me about as old
-and dignified as my father. My sisters, Sarah and Mary, were exemplary
-in school and out. The former, at eight, read Virgil; painted “Our
-Mother’s Grave” at eleven--’twas an imaginary grave judging from the
-happy children standing by; wrote rhymes for all the albums, printed
-verses on card-board and kept on living. Mary read every book she
-could find; had a prize at six years of age for digesting “Rollins’
-Ancient History;” had great mathematical talent, and though she sighed
-in her fourteenth year that she had grown old, yet continues to add to
-her age, being one of the oldest professors in a flourishing college.
-
-With such precedences, it is not strange that my parents were
-astonished when their fourth child developed other and less exaggerated
-traits, with no inclination to be moulded. Within ten months of my
-eighth year, my teacher, who had previously dealt with Sarah and
-Mary with great success, made the following remark to me: “If thou
-wilt learn to answer all those questions in astronomy,” passing her
-pencil lightly over two pages in _Wilkin’s Elements_, “before next
-seventh day, I’ll give thee two cents and a nice note to thy parents”
-(my father was a scientific man, and my mother a prime mover in our
-education).
-
-“Two cents” did seem quite a temptation, but the lesson I concluded
-not to get. “I worked wiser than I knew.” I may have wanted a “two
-cents” many a time since, but I never was sorry about that. Spelling,
-arithmetic, grammar, geography, history and reading, though they were
-the Peter-Parley edition, seemed about enough food for a child that
-was hungering and thirsting for a doll like Judith Collin’s, and for
-capacity to outrun the neighboring boys. To be sure the recitation in
-concert, where the names of the asteroids, only four in number (instead
-of a million and four) were brought out by some of us, as “vesper,”
-“pallid,” “you know,” and “serious” showed that we did not confine
-ourselves too closely to the book.
-
-Seventh-day afternoon was a holiday, and on one of these occasions
-I was sent to stay with my grandmother, as my mother and my maiden
-aunt (the latter lived with my grandmother) were going to Polpis
-to a corn-pudding party. I was too troublesome to be left at home,
-therefore, two birds were to be killed with one stone.
-
-Now I had for a long time desired to be left alone with my lame and
-deaf grandmother and the Tall Clock, especially the Tall Clock. I went,
-therefore, to her old house on Plover street in a calm and lovely frame
-of mind and helped get my aunt ready for the ride.
-
-’Twas a cold day though September; and after she took her seat in
-the flag-chair tied into the cart, I conceived the notion to add my
-grandmother’s best “heppy” to the wraps which they had already put
-into the calash. I always had wanted a chance at that camphor-trunk;
-and the above cloak, too nice to be worn, lay in the bottom underneath
-a mighty weight of neatly-folded articles of winter raiment. It came
-out with a “long pull” and many a “strong pull” and I got to the door
-with the head of it, while the whole length of this precious bright
-coating was dragging on the floor. But the cart had started, and when
-my aunt looked back, I was flourishing this “heppy” to see the wind
-fill it.
-
-I returned to the room, restored the article to the chest quite snugly,
-leaving one corner hanging out and that I stuffed in afterwards and
-jumped upon the cover of the trunk so that it shut. Very demurely I
-sat down before the open fire by my grandmother’s easy chair, rocking
-furiously, watching my own face in the bright andirons, whose convex
-surfaces reflected first a “small Nancy” far off, then as I rocked
-forward, a large and distorted figure. My rapid motions made such rapid
-caricatures that I remained absorbed and attentive. My grandmother,
-not seeing the cause of my content, decided (as she told my mother
-afterwards), “that the child was sick, or becoming regenerated.” Happy
-illusion!
-
-At last, my grandmother got to nodding and I sprang to my
-long-contemplated work.
-
-Putting a cricket into one of the best rush-bottom chairs, I climbed to
-the Clock; took off the frame, glass and all, from its head, placing
-it noiselessly on the floor; opened the tall door in the body of the
-clock; drew out and unhung the pendulum--the striking weight, whose
-string was broken, was made all right and put for the time being on the
-table. Then the “moon and stars” which had been fixed for a quarter of
-a century, were made to spin; the “days of the month” refused to pass
-in review without a squeak that must be remedied, so I flew into the
-closet to get some sweet oil which was goose-grease; but shutting the
-closet-door I roused my grandmother.
-
-I quietly went at the old rocking again, the bottle of goose-grease
-in my pocket, which I feared might melt and I should lose the
-material--the bottle was already low.
-
-Fortunately my grandmother began napping again, and I resumed my task.
-Applying the oil with a bird’s wing was lavish process--the wheels
-moved easily; the hands became quite slippy; the moon “rose and set” to
-order; the days of the month glided thirty times a minute, and I was
-just using a pin to prove the material of the dial when my grandmother
-turned her head, at the same time reaching for her cane (the emergency
-had been foreseen and special care had I taken that the cane should not
-be forthcoming). “Nancy! Nancy! is thee crazy?”
-
-Thinking to strengthen this idea, I jumped into the clock and held the
-door fast; but finally thinking ’twas cowardly not to face it I jumped
-out again, up into the chair, saying, “I am mending this old clock;”
-and notwithstanding her remonstrances, continued my work putting back
-the various pieces. When I was afraid of “giving out and giving up,”
-I decided I would just answer her back once and say “I wont.” The
-wickedness would certainly discourage her beyond a hope, and then I
-could finish.
-
-So I put the moon on, staring full; in putting on the hands I got, I
-thought, sufficiently worked up to venture my prepared reply to her
-repeated “get down!”
-
-I accordingly approached my grandmother, stopping some feet from her;
-bent my body half-over, my long red hair covering my eyes, and my head
-suiting its action to my earnestness, and in a decided rebellious tone,
-I spelled, “I W-O-N-T;” but accidently giving myself a turn on my heel
-I fell to the floor, with the pronunciation still unexpressed.
-
-I quickly rose, though I saw stars without any “two cents,” and
-returned to, and finished my work. I had just put the last touch on
-when I heard the wheels. How I dreaded my aunt’s appearance! As she
-entered the door I was found “demurely rocking” to the pictures in the
-andirons.
-
-My aunt thought I did not seem natural, and kissed me as being “too
-good, perhaps, to be well.” My grandmother tried to speak, but I
-interrupted:
-
-“I must go home without my tea. I am not afraid of the dark, and I
-better go.”
-
-This was another proof of indisposition to the aunt. I left the house,
-kissing as I thought, my grandmother into silence; but as I looked
-back I saw she could not utter a word without laughing at the aunt’s
-anxiety, and so had to put off the narration till after my departure.
-
-I went home about as fast as possible; desired to go to bed
-immediately--never went before without being sent, and then not in a
-very good mood. My mother followed me with a talk of “herb tea,” and as
-I thought I must have some “end to the farce,” I agreed that a little
-might do me good. My mother consequently brought me, I do believe, a
-“Scripture measure” pint of bitter tea, which I hurriedly drank, as I
-knew my sisters had already started for my grandmother’s, to see how I
-had been through the afternoon. When they returned, though I heard the
-laughing and talking in the sitting-room below, I was, to all intents
-and purposes, sound asleep and snoring.
-
-No allusion was ever made to my demeanor. I went to school as usual,
-and told the school-girls that I had had such a good time at my aunt’s
-the day before that I would never go there again “as long as I lived.”
-
-My grandmother and aunt died long ago. For years I had no reason to
-believe that my afternoon’s tragedy was known to any one. But once,
-not long since, speaking of that clock, I said, “I’m glad it did not
-descend to me;” when a friend replied, with a very knowing look, “So is
-your grandmother!”
-
-[Illustration: “THREE MICE SAT IN THE BARN TO SPIN.”]
-
-[Illustration]
-
-
-
-
-[Illustration: NURSERY TILES. --APRIL SHOWERS AND APRIL SUNSHINE.]
-
-A RIDE ON A CENTAUR.
-
-BY HAMILTON W. MABIE.
-
-
-Sid’s mother had a way of telling him stories just before he went to
-bed, and Sid loved bed-time more than any other hour in the day. I
-couldn’t begin to tell you all he had learned in this way nor all the
-places he had been to. When people travel in strange countries they
-have to have a guide who knows the fine roads and wonderful places to
-be seen in that part of the world. Now Sid was a little traveller just
-setting out on a very long journey and it was a very fortunate thing
-for him that he had his mother as a guide.
-
-When night was coming on and it was getting dark out of doors, the open
-wood fire was lighted in the back parlor; and then in the glow which
-made everything in the room look so queer, with his hand in hers, Sid’s
-mother took him off to other lands and even to the Moon.
-
-One night, not long ago, as Sid sat looking into the fire with his head
-against his mother’s knee, she said:
-
-“Come, Sid, let’s go to Greece and take a ride on a Centaur.”
-
-Nothing could have pleased Sid more. He hadn’t the slightest idea what
-a Centaur was, but he loved to ride, and it made very little difference
-to him what he rode on.
-
-Besides he was tired to-night and didn’t feel like walking; so, with
-his eyes half shut, and feeling very, very comfortable, Sid waited for
-the Centaur to take him off.
-
-“Well,” said his mother, in a voice that was always very sweet to him;
-“there’s a little country in Greece called Thessaly, and it’s full
-of caves, and beautiful valleys as well. In one of the caves lived a
-Centaur named Chiron. He had the body of a horse, but instead of a
-horse’s neck and head he had the head and shoulders and body of a man
-down to the waist. He was a very old and wise Centaur and although he
-lived in a cave he loved the open air on the high mountains.”
-
-How much longer Sid’s mother talked I don’t know. Although she did not
-notice it, Sid was gone. He had been carried off by a Centaur. While he
-was looking into the fire and wondering what made the coals take such
-queer shapes he heard a strange noise outside. It wasn’t exactly the
-neighing of a horse and it was not exactly the voice of a man, but it
-was something between the two.
-
-“That’s very funny,” said Sid to himself; “wonder what it is!”
-
-In a moment or two he heard it again and it sounded a great deal
-nearer than before. Then there was a sharp canter down the road and the
-clatter of hoofs past the windows. Sid’s mother did not seem to pay
-any attention to the noise, but she had stopped talking--at least Sid
-thought she had, and he got up very quietly, stepped out into the hall
-and went to the side door. There wasn’t any moon but the stars were
-shining brightly and there, going round and round the circle of grass
-under the apple trees, Sid saw a splendid black horse. As it came round
-again to the place where he stood Sid saw that it was not a horse after
-all, for above its forelegs it had the head and body of a man.
-
-It was a Centaur. Sid had never seen one before and he was sure nobody
-in that neighborhood owned one. Where it had come from he hadn’t the
-slightest idea, and if it hadn’t been for the apple trees and the
-great, dark church beyond he would have believed he was dreaming.
-
-The Centaur cantered around two or three trees more and then, without
-saying a word, as he passed Sid, stretched out his arms, caught the
-boy, put him on his back and was off like a racer. No boy ever had such
-a ride before and I don’t know that any one ever will again.
-
-No sooner had the Centaur struck the road than he broke into a gallop
-and went thundering along through the night as if a thousand witches
-or some other horrible creatures were chasing him. His hoofs rang on
-the hard ground and struck sparks of fire out of the stones along the
-way. On and on they flew, past houses and orchards and ponds over
-which a white mist lay like a soft night dress. They leaped the tall
-gates without so much as dropping a penny for the keeper who was fast
-asleep in the little house, and they rushed over bridges as if there
-were no notices about fast driving posted up at either end. Faster and
-faster they flew along until fences and trees and barns were all mixed
-up together and Sid couldn’t tell one from the other. He thought the
-Centaur couldn’t go any faster, but he was mistaken, for he broke into
-a dead run and then such going! It took Sid’s breath away. Every thing
-vanished and there wasn’t any thing left in the world but himself and
-the Centaur and the wind that was trying its best to blow him off.
-There wasn’t any noise either. It was just one tremendous rush. It was
-like the flight of an arrow that goes straight through the air from
-the moment it leaves the bow till the moment it strikes the mark and
-there’s hardly a breath between.
-
-How long the ride was I don’t know for Sid never could tell, but after
-a time the Centaur began to slacken speed, broke into a gallop, then
-into a gentle trot and finally stopped short. His broad flanks were
-steaming and he was wet from hoof to hoof, but he did not seem to mind
-it.
-
-Sid had been a little frightened at first, and you must admit that it
-was rather alarming to be picked up and carried off like the wind by
-a Centaur--but he was a brave boy and soon forgot every thing but the
-splendid ride he was taking. As soon as the Centaur stopped he slipped
-down and stood on the ground.
-
-Although it was night the air was so soft and pure and the stars shone
-so brightly through it that he could see it was a strange country.
-There were hills every where but they were green and although it was
-wild it looked beautiful as far as he could see.
-
-The Centaur stretched himself on the ground and Sid saw that although
-his face was very queer it was quite intelligent. He seemed to be
-waiting to rest himself. Sid wanted very much to talk with him but he
-wasn’t sure that he ought to and he didn’t know exactly what to say.
-There was so much of the horse about the Centaur that Sid couldn’t make
-up his mind whether he really was a horse or a man.
-
-The Centaur paid no attention to the boy for a long time but finally he
-turned to him and said:
-
-“Well, how did you like it?”
-
-The voice was queer, there was no doubt about that. It made him think
-of a horse, but the words were human. The Centaur could speak good
-English, there was no doubt about that either.
-
-“It was just splendid,” Sid answered. “What made you come for me?”
-
-“Why,” replied the Centaur, speaking slowly as if it were not easy for
-him to talk; “I knew you could ride and I was sent for you.”
-
-Sid couldn’t understand why he could ride easier than any other boy.
-“Can’t everybody ride?” he asked in a quick way he has when he is
-interested in anything.
-
-“Oh, bless you, no,” said the Centaur; “very few indeed; it all depends
-on your mind. Most boys wouldn’t have seen me, much less kept on my
-back.”
-
-Sid thought that was very queer, but he asked no more questions about
-it. He didn’t feel very well acquainted yet.
-
-“Who sent you for me?” he continued at last.
-
-“Chiron sent me,” answered the Centaur getting on his legs, “and we
-must be off.”
-
-He put Sid on his back as before and started on a gentle canter. They
-were on the side of a mountain with here and there olive trees and
-pines.
-
-“Where are we?” asked Sid after a moment.
-
-“Is this Thes--Thes--?”
-
-“Yes,” said the Centaur; “it’s Thessaly.”
-
-“Where am I going?”
-
-“You are going to school,” replied the Centaur.
-
-That rather surprised Sid and didn’t entirely please him. He thought
-he had enough of school by daylight without going at night too, but he
-said nothing, thinking it certainly must be a new kind of school if
-they had to send so far for scholars, and wondering whether his father,
-who was a minister, would be able to pay the bills.
-
-The road which the Centaur took led them around the mountain and
-presently they came out into a little level space in the side of the
-mountain and in front of a cave. In the middle of this grassy place a
-Centaur was lying on his side, and around him were ten or more young
-men stretched full length on the ground and leaning on their elbows, in
-a half circle.
-
-Sid slid down to the ground and slipped into the little group without
-being noticed. The Centaur in the middle was very old, so old that he
-looked as if he had been alive for centuries; and he had a very wise
-and beautiful face.
-
-The young men were the most splendid fellows Sid had ever seen. They
-had beautiful forms and noble heads and fine, bright faces, and they
-had magnificent arms and chests. They looked like heroes, and I think
-most of them were.
-
-This was the school and a very queer school it certainly was. Sid was
-eight years old and went to a Kindergarten where he had books and
-blocks and all kinds of things and here they hadn’t so much as a scrap
-of paper. He was inclined to think it must be a poor affair, but he
-thought he would wait until he had heard some of the recitations before
-he made up his mind. That was the queerest thing of all--there weren’t
-any recitations. No books, no desks, no black-boards, no recitations!
-well, it certainly was a funny school. There wasn’t even a roll called.
-If there had been Sid would have heard some strange names. That great
-splendid fellow at the end of the line, with his curly hair all in
-confusion about his noble head, was called Hercules, and the next
-was Achilles and the next Theseus and then came Castor and Pollux,
-and Ulysses and Meleager and Æsculapius and others whose names I have
-forgotten.
-
-While Sid was thinking about these things the old Centaur began to
-talk. His voice was very low and very sweet and somehow it made Sid
-feel that the teacher had seen everything there was to be seen in the
-world and knew everything there was to be known. School was evidently
-going to begin.
-
-“I have told you,” said the Centaur, very slowly, “about the Gods and
-the old times when the world was young. I have told of heroes and of
-the great things they did. I have taught you music which the Gods love,
-and medicine which is useful for men. I have told you how to be strong
-and high-minded and noble. I have taught you to be brave and true that
-you may do great things for yourself and the world. By day I have made
-your bodies firm and sinewy, and at night I made you think of the Gods
-who live beyond the stars. What shall I tell you now?”
-
-Nobody spoke for a minute and then Ulysses, who had a very wise face
-for one so young, said: “Tell us of yourself, oh, Chiron.”
-
-This seemed to please everybody and all the scholars repeated the words:
-
-“Tell us of yourself, oh, Chiron.”
-
-“The Centaurs,” began Chiron after a little while, “were born long
-before men came into the world. It was a rough place then and needed
-somebody stronger than men to live in it. So the Gods made us with the
-strength and swiftness of the animals and yet with some of the thoughts
-and feelings of men. And we lived in caves and ran through the valleys,
-and leaped across the rushing streams and climbed the mountains. And
-we learned many things about the world and made it easier for men when
-they came. I think we were sent to do what animals couldn’t do and that
-now you are come and grown strong to conquer even the animals, our work
-is done and we must soon die.”
-
-Just then a little bell rang. At first Sid thought school must be out,
-but the bell sounded very familiar to him. In fact it was the cuckoo
-clock in the front parlor striking nine.
-
-“Bless me, Sid,” said his mother; “you ought to have been in bed an
-hour ago.”
-
-
-
-
-[Illustration: LILL’S TRAVELS IN SANTA CLAUS LAND.
-BY ELLIS TOWNE.]
-
-
-Effie had been playing with her dolls one cold December morning, and
-Lill had been reading, until both were tired. But it stormed too hard
-to go out, and, as Mrs. Pelerine had said they need not do anything
-for two hours, their little jaws might have been dislocated by yawning
-before they would as much as pick up a pin. Presently Lill said,
-“Effie, shall I tell you a story.”
-
-“O yes! do!” said Effie, and she climbed up by Lill in the large
-rocking-chair in front of the grate. She kept very still, for she knew
-Lill’s stories were not to be interrupted by a sound, or even a motion.
-The first thing Lill did was to fix her eyes on the fire, and rock
-backward and forward quite hard for a little while, and then she said,
-“Now I am going to tell you about my _thought travels_, and they are
-apt to be a little queerer, but O! ever so much nicer, than the other
-kind!”
-
-[Illustration]
-
-As Lill’s stories usually had a formal introduction she began: “Once
-upon a time, when I was taking a walk through the great field beyond
-the orchard, I went way on, ’round where the path turns behind the
-hill. And after I had walked a little way, I came to a high wall--built
-right up into the sky. At first I thought I had discovered the ‘ends of
-the earth,’ or perhaps I had somehow come to the great wall of China.
-But after walking a long way I came to a large gate, and over it was
-printed in beautiful gold letters, ‘SANTA CLAUS LAND,’ and the letters
-were large enough for a baby to read!”
-
-How large that might be Lill did not stop to explain.
-
-“But the gate was shut tight,” she continued, “and though I knocked and
-knocked and knocked, as hard as I could, nobody came to open it. I was
-dreadfully disappointed, because I felt as if Santa Claus must live
-here all of the year except when he went out to pay Christmas visits,
-and it would be so lovely to see him in his own home, you know. But
-what was I to do? The gate was entirely too high to climb over, and
-there wasn’t even a crack to peek through!”
-
-[Illustration: “LITTLE BAREFOOT CHILDREN RAN OFF WITH THEM.”]
-
-Here Lill paused, and Effie drew a long breath, and looked greatly
-disappointed. Then Lill went on:
-
-“But you see, as I was poking about, I pressed a bell-spring, and
-in a moment--jingle, jingle, jingle, the bells went ringing far and
-near, with such a merry sound as was never heard before. While they
-were still ringing the gate slowly opened and I walked in. I didn’t
-even stop to inquire if Santa Claus was at home, for I forgot all about
-myself and my manners, it was so lovely. First there was a small paved
-square like a court; it was surrounded by rows and rows of dark green
-trees, with several avenues opening between them.
-
-“In the centre of the court was a beautiful marble fountain, with
-streams of sugar plums and bon-bons tumbling out of it. Funny-looking
-little men were filling cornucopias at the fountain, and pretty little
-barefoot children, with chubby hands and dimpled shoulders, took them
-as soon as they were filled, and ran off with them. They were all too
-much occupied to speak to me, but as I came up to the fountain one of
-the funny little fellows gave me a cornucopia, and I marched on with
-the babies.
-
-“We went down one of the avenues, which would have been very dark
-only it was splendidly lighted up with Christmas candles. I saw the
-babies were slyly eating a candy or two, so I tasted mine, and they
-were delicious--the real Christmas kind. After we had gone a little
-way, the trees were smaller and not so close together, and here
-there were other funny little fellows who were climbing up on ladders
-and tying toys and bon-bons to the trees. The children stopped and
-delivered their packages, but I walked on, for there was something
-in the distance that I was curious to see. I could see that it was a
-large garden, that looked as if it might be well cared for, and had
-many things growing in it. But even in the distance it didn’t look
-natural, and when I reached it I found it was a very uncommon kind
-of a garden indeed. I could scarcely believe my eyes, but there were
-dolls and donkeys and drays and cars and croquet coming up in long,
-straight rows, and ever so many other things beside. In one place the
-wooden dolls had only just started; their funny little heads were just
-above ground, and I thought they looked very much surprised at their
-surroundings. Farther on were china dolls, that looked quite grown up,
-and I suppose were ready to pull; and a gardener was hoeing a row of
-soldiers that didn’t look in a very healthy condition, or as if they
-had done very well.
-
-“The gardener looked familiar, I thought, and as I approached him he
-stopped work and, leaning on his hoe he said, ‘How do you do, Lilian? I
-am very glad to see you.’
-
-“The moment he raised his face I knew it was Santa Claus, for he looked
-exactly like the portrait we have of him. You can easily believe I was
-glad then! I ran and put both of my hands in his, fairly shouting that
-I was so glad to find him.
-
-“He laughed and said:
-
-“‘Why, I am generally to be found here or hereabouts, for I work in the
-grounds every day.’
-
-“And I laughed too, because his laugh sounded so funny; like the brook
-going over stones, and the wind up in the trees. Two or three times,
-when I thought he had done he would burst out again, laughing the
-vowels in this way: ‘Ha, ha, ha, ha! He, he, he, he, he! Hi, hi, hi,
-hi, hi! Ho, ho, ho, h-o-oo!’”
-
-Lill did it very well, and Effie laughed till the tears came to her
-eyes; and she could quite believe Lill when she said, “It grew to be
-so funny that I couldn’t stand, but fell over into one of the little
-chairs that were growing in a bed just beyond the soldiers.
-
-“When Santa Claus saw that he stopped suddenly, saying:
-
-“‘There, that will do. I take a hearty laugh every day, for the sake of
-digestion.’
-
-“Then he added, in a whisper, ‘That is the reason I live so long and
-don’t grow old. I’ve been the same age ever since the chroniclers began
-to take notes, and those who are best able to judge think I’ll continue
-to be this way for about one thousand eight hundred and seventy-six
-years longer,--they probably took a new observation at the Centennial,
-and they know exactly.’
-
-“I was greatly delighted to hear this, and I told him so. He nodded
-and winked and said it was ‘all right,’ and then asked if I’d like to
-see the place. I said I would, so he threw down the hoe with a sigh,
-saying, ‘I don’t believe I shall have more than half a crop of soldiers
-this season. They came up well, but the arms and legs seem to be weak.
-When I get to town I’ll have to send out some girls with glue pots, to
-stick them fast.’
-
-“The town was at some distance, and our path took us by flower-beds
-where some exquisite little toys were growing, and a hot-bed where
-new varieties were being prop--_propagated_. Pretty soon we came to a
-plantation of young trees, with rattles, and rubber balls, and ivory
-rings growing on the branches, and as we went past they rang and
-bounded about in the merriest sort of a way.
-
-“‘There’s a nice growth,’ said Santa Claus, and it _was_ a nice growth
-for babies; but just beyond I saw something so perfectly splendid that
-I didn’t care about the plantation.”
-
-“Well,” said Lill impressively, seeing that Effie was sufficiently
-expectant, “it was a lovely grove. The trees were large, with long
-drooping branches, and the branches were just loaded with dolls’
-clothes. There were elegant silk dresses, with lovely sashes of every
-color--”
-
-Just here Effie couldn’t help saying “O!” for she had a weakness for
-sashes. Lill looked stern, and put a warning hand over her mouth, and
-went on.
-
-“There was everything that the most fashionable doll could want,
-growing in the greatest profusion. Some of the clothes had fallen,
-and there were funny-looking girls picking them up, and packing them
-in trunks and boxes. ‘These are all ripe,’ said Santa Claus, stopping
-to shake a tree, and the clothes came tumbling down so fast that the
-workers were busier than ever. The grove was on a hill, so that we
-had a beautiful view of the country. First there was a park filled
-with reindeer, and beyond that was the town, and at one side a large
-farm-yard filled with animals of all sorts.”
-
-[Illustration: “SANTA CLAUS FED THEM WITH LUMPS OF SUGAR.”]
-
-“But as Santa Claus seemed in a hurry I did not stop long to look.
-Our path led through the park, and we stopped to call ‘Prancer’ and
-‘Dancer’ and ‘Donder’ and ‘Blitzen,’ and Santa Claus fed them with
-lumps of sugar from his pocket. He pointed out ‘Comet’ and ‘Cupid’ in a
-distant part of the park; ‘Dasher’ and ‘Vixen’ were nowhere to be seen.
-
-“Here I found most of the houses were Swiss cottages, but there were
-some fine churches and public buildings, all of beautifully illustrated
-building blocks, and we stopped for a moment at a long depot, in which
-a locomotive was just _smashing up_.
-
-“Santa Claus’ house stood in the middle of the town. It was an
-old-fashioned looking house, very broad and low, with an enormous
-chimney. There was a wide step in front of the door, shaded by a
-fig-tree and grape-vine, and morning-glories and scarlet beans
-clambered by the side of the latticed windows; and there were great
-round rose-bushes, with great, round roses, on either side of the walk
-leading to the door.”
-
-“O! it must have smelled like a party,” said Effie, and then subsided,
-as she remembered that she was interrupting.
-
-“Inside, the house was just cozy and comfortable, a real grandfatherly
-sort of a place. A big chair was drawn up in front of the window, and a
-big book was open on a table in front of the chair. A great pack half
-made up was on the floor, and Santa Claus stopped to add a few things
-from his pocket. Then he went to the kitchen, and brought me a lunch of
-milk and strawberries and cookies, for he said I must be tired after my
-long walk.
-
-“After I had rested a little while, he said if I liked I might go with
-him to the observatory. But just as we were starting a funny little
-fellow stopped at the door with a wheelbarrow full of boxes of dishes.
-After Santa Claus had taken the boxes out and put them in the pack he
-said slowly,--
-
-“‘Let me see!’
-
-“He laid his finger beside his nose as he said it, and looked at me
-attentively, as if I were a sum in addition, and he was adding me up.
-I guess I must have come out right, for he looked satisfied, and said
-I’d better go to the mine first, and then join him in the observatory.
-Now I am afraid he was not exactly polite not to go with me himself,”
-added Lill, gravely, “but then he apologized by saying he had some work
-to do. So I followed the little fellow with the wheelbarrow, and we
-soon came to what looked like the entrance of a cave, but I suppose it
-was the mine. I followed my guide to the interior without stopping to
-look at the boxes and piles of dishes outside. Here I found other funny
-little people, busily at work with picks and shovels, taking out wooden
-dishes from the bottom of the cave, and china and glass from the top
-and sides, for the dishes hung down just like stalactites in Mammoth
-Cave.”
-
-Here Lill opened the book she had been reading, and showed Effie a
-picture of the stalactites.
-
-“It was so curious and so pretty that I should have remained longer,”
-said Lill, “only I remembered the observatory and Santa Claus.
-
-“When I went outside I heard his voice calling out, ‘Lilian! Lilian!’
-It sounded a great way off, and yet somehow it seemed to fill the air
-just as the wind does. I only had to look for a moment, for very near
-by was a high tower. I wonder I did not see it before; but in these
-queer countries you are sure to see something new every time you look
-about. Santa Claus was standing up at a window near the top, and I
-ran to the entrance and commenced climbing the stairs. It was a long
-journey, and I was quite out of breath when I came to the end of it.
-But here there was such a cozy, luxurious little room, full of stuffed
-chairs and lounges, bird cages and flowers in the windows, and pictures
-on the wall, that it was delightful to rest. There was a lady sitting
-by a golden desk, writing in a large book, and Santa Claus was looking
-through a great telescope, and every once in a while he stopped and put
-his ear to a large speaking-tube. While I was resting he went on with
-his observations.”
-
-[Illustration]
-
-“Presently he said to the lady, ‘Put down a good mark for Sarah
-Buttermilk. I see she is trying to conquer her quick temper.’
-
-“‘Two bad ones for Isaac Clappertongue; he’ll drive his mother to the
-insane asylum yet.’
-
-“‘Bad ones all around for the Crossley children,--they quarrel too
-much.’
-
-“‘A good one for Harry and Alice Pleasure, they are quick to mind.’
-
-“‘And give Ruth Olive ten, for she is a peace-maker’”
-
-Just then he happened to look at me and saw I was rested, so
-he politely asked what I thought of the country. I said it was
-magnificent. He said he was sorry I didn’t stop in the green-house,
-where he had wax dolls and other delicate things growing. I was very
-sorry about that, and then I said I thought he must be very happy to
-own so many delightful things.
-
-“‘Of course I’m happy,’ said Santa Claus, and then he sighed. ‘But it
-is an awful responsibility to reward so many children according to
-their deserts. For I take these observations every day, and I know who
-is good and who is bad.’
-
-“I was glad he told me about this, and now, if he would only tell me
-what time of day he took the observations, I would have obtained really
-valuable information. So I stood up and made my best courtesy and
-said,--
-
-“‘Please, sir, would you tell me what time of day you usually look?’
-
-“‘O,’ he answered, carelessly, ‘any time from seven in the morning till
-ten at night. I am not a bit particular about time. I often go without
-my own meals in order to make a record of table manners. For instance:
-last evening I saw you turn your spoon over in your mouth, and that’s
-very unmannerly for a girl nearly fourteen.’
-
-“‘O, I didn’t know _you_ were looking,’ said I, very much ashamed;
-‘and I’ll never do it again,’ I promised.
-
-“Then he said I might look through the telescope, and I looked right
-down into our house. There was mother very busy and very tired, and all
-of the children teasing. It was queer, for I was there, too, and the
-_bad-est_ of any. Pretty soon I ran to a quiet corner with a book, and
-in a few minutes mamma had to leave her work and call, ‘Lilian, Lilian,
-it’s time for you to practise.’
-
-“‘Yes, mamma,’ I answered, ‘I’ll come right away.’
-
-“As soon as I said this Santa Claus whistled for ‘Comet’ and ‘Cupid,’
-and they came tearing up the tower. He put me in a tiny sleigh, and
-away we went, over great snow-banks of clouds, and before I had time
-to think I was landed in the big chair, and mamma was calling ‘Lilian,
-Lilian, it’s time for you to practise,’ just as she is doing now, and I
-must go.”
-
-So Lill answered, “Yes, mamma,” and ran to the piano.
-
-Effie sank back in the chair to think. She wished Lill had found out
-how many black marks she had, and whether that lady was Mrs. Santa
-Claus--and had, in fact, obtained more accurate information about many
-things.
-
-But when she asked about some of them afterwards, Lill said she didn’t
-know, for the next time she had traveled in that direction she found
-SANTA CLAUS LAND had moved.
-
-[Illustration]
-
-[Illustration: GRANDMA AND TODDLEKINS.]
-
-
-
-
-BOB’S “BREAKING IN.”
-
-BY ELEANOR PUTNAM.
-
-
-“Why don’t you write a story, Tom?” said Jim.
-
-“Can’t,” said I; “never did such a thing in my life.”
-
-You see the beginning of it all was Jim’s coming home for a three
-months’ leave. Jim’s in the navy and just home from Japan. So he came
-to see us, and so I broke my leg. When we came home from school we had
-planned no end of larks for the vacation, what with the Christmas tree
-and sleighing and skating and coasting, and making candy over to Aunt
-Lewes’, and going into Boston to Pinafore and having Charlotte-russe at
-Parker’s, and all the rest.
-
-So the first thing I did the very night after we got home, was to fall
-through a bad place in the stable floor and break my leg, and Will said
-it was lucky it wasn’t one of the horses. Of course that finished my
-fun, for I could not go anywhere with the rest, but just had to lie
-there with my leg in splints; and though of course I had my presents
-just the same, I was mad all the vacation.
-
-It wasn’t any great fun, you’d better believe, to lie on a lounge and
-stick in the house and see Will going everywhere and having no end of
-jolly times every day.
-
-Then when the Saturday came for him to go back to Dr. Thomas’s and
-leave me behind, and I thought of seeing all the fellows and hearing
-what they had for presents and all that, I concluded that if I’d been
-well I’d have been glad for once in my life even to go back to school.
-It wasn’t that I didn’t have enough done for me either, for mother and
-Jennie, the cook, almost cured me of ever liking cream cakes and jam
-again, by the heaps of it they gave me. Nell made me more neckties than
-I can wear in ten years, and played backgammon by the hour. Father
-brought me a new book from the city nearly every night, and Jim told
-me more stories--“yarns” he called them--and he and I made the most
-complete man-of-war that ever was seen in these parts. So you can see
-that I was not neglected, but I tell you there’s nothing like being
-well and having two whole legs to stand on. I’d got pretty tired of
-reading and jig-sawing and painting, and one afternoon I’d been
-telling them about the time we broke Bob Richards in at school, and
-says Jim:
-
-“Tom, old fellow,” says he, “why don’t you write a story. Write it all
-out, and send it to WIDE AWAKE; you never know what you can do till you
-try,” says he.
-
-I thought I couldn’t at first, but the next day Jim had to drive over
-to Medford, and Nell had to go too to match mother’s gray dress and
-get some red ribbons for the dog. They both went off, and mother had a
-caller down stairs, so I was left all alone, and that’s how I came to
-write about it anyway.
-
-You see our fellows have always had a fashion of giving the new boys a
-“breaking in.” The thing began by just doubling up the bed clothes, or
-sewing up the fellow’s sleeves, and then they got to ducking them and
-scaring them with ghosts, and when at last they pumped on little Fred
-Harris and frightened him into brain fever, Dr. Thomas forbade anything
-more of the sort.
-
-Now when Dr. Thomas says anything he has a way of meaning it, so we
-fellows were surprised enough when one day Jeff Ryder came into the gym
-where we were having a circus, and said: “I tell you what let’s do!
-Let’s give Bob Richards a regular breaking in!”
-
-“Yes I would, Jeff,” said Harry Thorndike, in the odd, quiet way he had
-with him. Harry Thorndike was our head boy, and entered Harvard last
-summer. “Yes, I would,” says he, “and get sent home for a month; it
-would be no end of fun. I would.”
-
-Of course we boys all looked at Jeff when Harry spoke in that way, to
-see if he didn’t feel cheap, but he didn’t, a bit.
-
-“I’ll take all the blame,” says he, “and I’ll risk being sent home.”
-
-So then he told us all about his plan, and we thought it was a jolly
-good one too.
-
-Bob Richards was a new fellow; only been there four weeks; and when he
-first came we thought he was a regular moon-calf. He was rather small
-of his age and had a kind of pinched, half-starved look, as if he’d
-never had a good square meal from soup clear through to pudding in
-his life. He was homesick and lonesome too, and we got into the way
-of calling him “baby” and “sissy,” but he never seemed to mind a bit,
-but would always help a fellow with his lessons just the same, and was
-first-class in any game.
-
-One day Ralph Bixby, the bully of the school, said something about
-Richard’s mother, and I just wish you could have seen that little
-fellow fire up.
-
-“You say what you like about me,” says he, “but don’t you say anything
-about my mother; it won’t be best for you, Bixby.”
-
-“Do you want to fight?” says Bixby, bristling up like a turkey cock.
-
-“It is not fighting I am after,” says Richards, very quietly, “but I
-can fight if there is need of it.”
-
-But Bixby said he wouldn’t fight with an underclass man, and then
-went off and told Dr. Thomas that little Richards had been offering
-to fight. We all liked little Richards, for he was clear grit right
-through and no mistake. So when Jeff told us his plan we all agreed to
-it and there weren’t more than half a dozen of us fellows that knew
-about it, and we didn’t have to go and tell everyone about it either,
-as girls would.
-
-[Illustration: BOB IS CALLED UPON TO MEET HIS DOOM.]
-
-At last the term was ended, and we were going home next day; that is,
-all we fellows who had any homes to go to, or any invitations to
-visit. But Bob Richards, he didn’t have any place to go because his
-mother was poor and lived way down in Machias, and it was too far away.
-So most boys would have been ugly about it and envious of the other
-boys, but Richards wasn’t a bit. Will and I were though, one winter
-when all our people were away in Germany, and we had to stay at the
-school or else go to Aunt Jocelyn’s. We don’t like very well to go to
-Aunt Jocelyn’s, for she always has cold meat and rice pudding without
-any plums, and says that she likes to see boys sober and useful. She
-gave Will and me dictionaries for Christmas presents. So we’d rather
-go most anywhere than to Aunt Jocelyn’s. But we were mad though to
-think we had to stay at the school, and Will told one of the fellows
-that he’d punch him if he didn’t stop looking so glad.
-
-Little Richards you would have thought was going himself, he looked so
-glad and happy, and rushed about up and down stairs into all the rooms,
-helping the fellows pack and cord their trunks, strap up their valises,
-and directing cards for their boxes, and you’d have thought he was
-going himself sure enough.
-
-“Don’t you wish you were going home, Richards?” said Ned Smith. He is
-one of those fellows who are always saying things they ought not to,
-though not meaning to be hateful. He’d do no end of things for a fellow
-who was sick, and then like as not tell him something that would make
-him sicker than ever. So he couldn’t think of anything better to say
-than to ask little Richards if he didn’t wish he was going home.
-
-“Why, yes,” said Bob, in the bright, quick way he had with him; “why,
-yes, of course I wish I was going home, but if I can’t I can’t, so
-there’s an end to it. Besides I’m going home next summer; it’ll only be
-twenty-five weeks.”
-
-Just to think of his speaking of it in that chipper way, as if he’d
-said twenty-five minutes instead of weeks.
-
-The packing was all done after a while, and we were ready for an early
-start next morning. We had eaten our last supper, beef-steak and fried
-potatoes--we always have a sort of extra good supper the last night
-of the term. Then after supper we had a good time in Mrs. Thomas’ own
-room, with her two babies and her cousin who played the piano for us,
-and by ten o’clock we were all in our rooms and the house got still.
-
-It was eleven o’clock when we heard three mews and a scratch like a
-cat, which was Jeff Ryder’s signal; he could have opened the door and
-come in just as well, but he was always very fond of giving all kinds
-of signs.
-
-We opened the door and there were Hal Thorndike and the two Everett
-boys and Jeff. Will and I had a room alone. We came out and joined them
-and went up stairs trying to keep still, though Will would giggle, and
-he and Jeff had a scuffle on the landing about which should go in and
-get Bob out of bed.
-
-At last Harry Thorndike settled it by telling them both to go. They had
-masks that Jeff and I made of black cloth with holes cut through for
-the eyes and mouth.
-
-So they went in and waked up Bob, and said in a horrid, scarey sort of
-way, “Unhappy mortal! prepare to suffer your doom! Arise and proceed to
-the hall of judgment!”
-
-He wasn’t more than half awake, but he was clear pluck, and he came out
-shivering with cold and with a blanket round his shoulders.
-
-The boys had blindfolded him, and they led him round and round till
-he was pretty well mixed up, and then they took him to the Hall of
-Judgment, which was Harry Thorndike’s room.
-
-The two younger boys staid with him while we older ones fell to work
-like beavers in Bob’s room.
-
-We had a hard time though you’d better believe, trying to keep quiet,
-for the fellows would forget every now and then and speak or laugh out
-loud. We had Archibald, the school janitor, up to help us, and we made
-quick work of what we had to do I can tell you.
-
-To begin with, his room was just the forlornest place that ever you
-saw, and no mistake! We furnish our own rooms at Dr. Thomas’, and we
-always try to fix them up rather gorgeous. Our mothers and sisters
-are always sending us gimcracks to make our dens kind of gay. Then
-if fellows happen to have any girl friends you know, they are always
-sending them tidies and such trash for philopene presents, and though
-we don’t much care to have the things round under feet, somehow if one
-fellow has them, all the rest wants them too.
-
-But I just wish you could have seen little Richards’ room! the barest,
-coldest place! There was no carpet, only a common sort of rug before
-the little old stove, that was so wheezy and full of cracks that it
-would not do much but smoke anyway. There was a bedstead, and his study
-table with his books on it. There was a picture of his mother, and
-one of his sister--rather pretty she was too, with smiling eyes like
-Richards’, and soft hair in little rings about her forehead and face.
-Thorndike said that she would be very pretty when she was older--say
-seventeen. Mrs. Thomas’ cousin is sixteen and a half. Bob had put a
-little wreath of some kind round the two pictures. There was a plant
-too on the table. He brought it in his hand all the way from Machias,
-with a brown paper bag over the top of it, and now it was just ready to
-bloom.
-
-The first thing we did was to bring in a big warm carpet all made and
-fitted to the room, and we spread it down, but didn’t nail it because
-of the noise and because we thought he’d like to do it himself. Then
-we covered the old table and mantle with jolly, bright cloths. We
-never could have picked them out in the world if it hadn’t been for
-Mrs. Thomas’ cousin, the one who played on the piano for us. She is
-rather nice for a girl, and sometimes wears little gold horse-shoes in
-her ears. Jeff Ryder is going to marry her when he is twenty-one, but
-nobody knows it yet, not even she. Jeff only told me one night when I
-had a sore throat and he slept with me. So she helped us pick out the
-things, and gave us a tidy, and a pin-cushion the size of a bean bag.
-Then we moved in a first-class stove, and Archibald set her up and
-built a rouser of a fire in her. We put a pair of new blankets on the
-bed, and Jeff Ryder brought out a student’s lamp--one of the double
-headers; the two Belknap boys--that means Will and me--gave a big easy
-chair to go beside the table; then the Everett boys gave a set of
-book shelves; and Dr. Thomas gave a box of books, as many as a dozen
-I should think. We left these in the box, for Will and I always think
-that half the fun of having presents is opening the bundles ourselves.
-Harry Thorndike gave the stove and a little clock from his own room.
-We put the pin-cushion on the bureau, and the tidy on the chair, and
-while we were standing there looking at it all, there came the very
-softest kind of a step outside and there was the Doctor’s wife. She had
-a picture in her arms, one that I had seen a good many times in her own
-sitting-room. It was quite a large picture of a woman with a sort of
-hood on her hair and a baby in her arms; both the woman and the baby
-had a kind of shiny hoop just above their heads in the air, looking as
-if in a minute they’d drop down and make crowns. Will told me once that
-he thought it was a picture of Mrs. Thomas and the baby, but I think
-not, though there was the same kind of look too on both their faces.
-
-“Hang this up, boys,” she said; “he is very fond of it, and I have had
-it for a good many years. I’ve babies of my own now to look at, so we
-will give this to Bob. Let us hang it over the mantle-piece.”
-
-There is something rather queer about the Doctor’s wife. It isn’t that
-she isn’t pretty, for she is; and it isn’t that she is odd or old, for
-she is younger a good deal than the Doctor, and as kind and jolly as a
-girl; but there is something queer about her, for I don’t know how many
-fellows have said she seemed just like their mothers; and what I want
-to know is how in creation can she look and seem like the mothers of so
-many boys--dark and light, and homely and handsome, English, German,
-American, and even one colored fellow said she made him think of his
-“mammy.” I think it must be a kind of motherish way which she has, that
-makes us all feel so about her.
-
-She gave the picture to Hal Thorndike and he hung it up, and I tell you
-the room did look just immense.
-
-Then we went down stairs and brought Bob up again, and sat him down
-in his new chair, and told him not to take off his blinder till he’d
-counted three hundred, and then we all ran down into Will’s and my
-room to wait and see what he would do. We rather expected to hear him
-shout, or tear round, or do something or other; but we counted three
-hundred two or three times over, and not a sound came from his room.
-
-By and by Jeff said he was going up to see what the row was--which was
-only his way of speaking; for you couldn’t call it a row, could you,
-when there wasn’t a sound to be heard!
-
-Jeff didn’t come back, and then Will said he’d go and see where Jeff
-was, so Hal said it was like Clever Alice and her cheeses that she sent
-rolling down hill after each other; but at last the two boys came back,
-not grinning at all, but solemn and long-faced enough.
-
-“I guess he’s mad,” said Jeff; “anyhow he can’t be glad, for he’s
-howling!” which was another of Jeff’s ways of speaking; for Bob
-certainly was not howling.
-
-“I don’t see what he wants to act that way for,” said Will. “I bet I
-wouldn’t if I had so many things given to me at once!”
-
-“You can’t always tell,” said Hal. “It isn’t always a sign a fellow is
-mad if he howls. I howled like a good one when my father came home from
-sea, when I was a little fellow, a good many years ago.”
-
-“Let’s go up and see what’s the matter with him,” said I.
-
-“Let’s go to bed!” said Harry. “Don’t one of you young rats go near his
-room to-night, or I’ll report you to the Doctor!”
-
-We all laughed, for of course we knew he’d never report us; he isn’t
-that kind; but we minded what Hal said all the same, as everybody has
-a way of doing, and we didn’t hear a sound more till morning, and the
-gong waked us up.
-
-And then there was Archibald at the door to help with the trunks
-and boxes, and the lamps were lighted in the dining-room, and there
-were fritters and syrup for breakfast, but they were too hot to eat.
-Then there was Jeff Ryder with a present for the Doctor’s wife’s
-cousin--some candy in a jolly, silver box, lined with blue silk (Jeff
-will spend all his quarter’s money on one thing), and there in a dark
-corner of the stairs was the cousin herself, with a little pink sack
-on, crying about something, and Harry Thorndike was leaning on the
-balusters saying, as I came along, “Why Anette, child, it’s only for
-two weeks anyhow! Come, don’t send me off this way; can’t you wish me a
-merry Christmas?”
-
-Then they shouted that the big sleigh was ready, and I thought we were
-going to get off without having to see Bob at all.
-
-So I rushed out through the hall and down the slippery steps, but there
-was Bob before me, very white in the face, and with his eyes looking
-more than ever like his sister’s.
-
-I tell you we fellows felt awful cheap; a sight cheaper than Bob did
-himself. Jeff Ryder whispered to me that he was going to bolt, but it
-was no go. Bob stepped right in front of us.
-
-“Boys,” said he; “boys, you must let me--if I only could tell you--if
-you only knew--” and just then Hal Thorndike came along (the cousin had
-run away up-stairs) and set things right as he has a way of doing.
-
-“All right, youngster,” he said; “we know just what you want to say--no
-one who looked at you could accuse you of being ungrateful. Let up now,
-old fellow, don’t say a word more, but go up to my room and see if I
-left my watch-key on the bureau.”
-
-Bob ran off, and Harry said, “now cut for it, fellows!” says he; “hip,
-vamoose, get, pile into the sleigh, or he’ll be back again, thanking
-you worse than ever!”
-
-So in we jumped, the whip cracked, the bells jingled, and we gave three
-cheers for the Doctor, and three more for his wife, and then we dashed
-away.
-
-Of course, little Richards wrote to us, but a letter isn’t half so bad
-as to have a fellow brace right up and thank you before your face and
-eyes. So we got out of it pretty well after all, didn’t we?
-
-And this is all there is about “Bob’s ‘Breaking In,’” and not much of
-a story either to write all out and send to a magazine. But you see Jim
-told me to, and it was lonesome with Jim and Nell and mother gone, and
-only the cat for company the whole afternoon.
-
-[Illustration: HURRAH FOR HOME AND CHRISTMAS!]
-
-
-  Little John Locke
-  Says kittie can talk;
-    And this, my dears, is exactly how:
-
-  John said, “Kittie mine,
-  Say, when will you dine?”
-    And kittie looked up and said, “_Neow-w_.”
-
-
-
-
-[Illustration]
-
-THE FIRST HUNT
-
-BY J. H. WOODBURY.
-
-
-Ephraim Bartlett’s first hunting adventure was of such a serio-comic
-nature that it seems really worth relating.
-
-Ephraim’s father was a “selectman.” He had also been a captain of
-militia in his younger days, and therefore it happened that in speaking
-of him everybody called him “The Captain.” He bore his honors meekly,
-was a well-to-do farmer, and very much respected.
-
-It was town-meeting day--early in November,--when, of course the
-captain had to go to the polls to look after the voting, and help count
-the votes. It was delightful Indian-summer weather, too; one of the
-last of those soft hazy days in the late autumn, when there is such a
-quiet beauty over the earth that it seems of heaven itself. When even
-the winds forget to blow; and it seems, at times, as if all nature
-were asleep. Then can be heard, in the edge of the distant forest, the
-tapping of woodpeckers, the barking of squirrels, and the hoarse cries
-of blue-jays, so distinctly does every slight sound reach you through
-the still atmosphere. It was on such a day that the captain and his
-hired man went to town-meeting, leaving Ephraim “the only man on the
-farm.”
-
-Now Ephraim had been all the fall longing for a hunt; but his father
-had not time to go hunting with him, and he thought Ephraim too
-young to go alone. His father had no objection to his going alone,
-if he would only go without a gun; but Ephraim could not see the
-use of hunting without a gun. He longed to get into the woods with
-his father’s old training gun, all alone. This old piece was rather
-heavy for sporting purposes; but it was always kept in perfect order,
-standing in a corner of the captain’s bed-room, behind his desk.
-
-So, after his father was gone, and while his mother was busied about
-the house, the temptation to take that gun was more than Ephraim could
-withstand. Watching his opportunity, he first secured the powder-horn
-and shot-pouch out of the drawer where they were kept, and then he
-took the musket, and bore it stealthily away behind the barn. He felt
-in a hurry, and as if he were not doing quite right, and was not quite
-easy in his mind, even after he had got the gun out of sight. He half
-resolved to carry it back at once, but finally concluded that he could
-return it just as well after he had had his hunt, and went to work to
-load it.
-
-Ephraim was not quite sure how the gun should be loaded; but the powder
-seemed the most essential thing, so he put a handful of that in first.
-Then, without any wad between, as there should have been, he put in a
-handful of shot; and they were large enough, he thought, to kill almost
-anything. He put a very big wad on top of these, and rammed it hard
-down with the iron ramrod. It was a flint-lock piece, and he knew that
-powder would be needed in the pan; so he opened it to put some in. But
-the pan was already filled; for in ramming down the charge the piece
-had primed itself.
-
-It was all right, Ephraim felt sure, and, keeping the barn between him
-and the house, he went towards the wood.
-
-It was a lonely old wood. I often went through it myself when I was a
-boy, and I know all about it. In the brightest day it would be dark
-and gloomy under some of those great, wide-spreading, low-branched
-hemlocks. There were all kinds of wood there that are found in a New
-England forest; beech, birch, maple, oak, pine, hemlock and chestnut;
-and partridges, squirrels, rabbits, owls,--in fact, all sorts of small
-game made it their home.
-
-With the gun on his shoulder Ephraim entered the woods and went
-trudging straight into it, as if all the game worth shooting were in
-the middle of it. He could hear the squirrels and blue-jays in the high
-branches overhead; but it was his first hunt, and he was resolved to
-have something bigger.
-
-His progress was suddenly arrested, however, by the appearance of a
-very sedate-looking bird, as large as a good-sized fowl, with a thick
-muffler of feathers around its throat and shoulders, that sat perched
-on a dead limb before him. The bird was facing him, and when he stopped
-it stretched its neck downward, and turned its head to one side as if
-to listen or observe his movements. Ephraim wondered why it did not fly
-away, but presently it occurred to him that it was an owl, and could
-not see him.
-
-“Ah!” thought he, “you are just the fellow I’m looking for! Now just
-stay where you are a minute, and I’ll fix you!”
-
-He had to find a rest before he could hold his gun steady, and then he
-was sure to take good aim. But he had to draw so hard on the trigger
-that he closed his eyes, just as the gun went off; and when he opened
-them again he was looking another way.
-
-The action of his piece seemed unaccountable. It had started backward
-so suddenly as to throw him over, and there was a pain in his shoulder
-as if it had been hit. But he was sure he had killed the owl, and,
-looking for it, he was again surprised to see it sailing noiselessly
-away. It seemed in no great haste, and evidently had not started
-without due reflection. It stopped, before going out of sight, and
-remained perched on another dry limb, as if waiting for Ephraim to come
-and shoot it again.
-
-Without reflecting at all as to whether he would be any better off
-after shooting that owl, or whether it had not just as good a right
-to live as he, Ephraim sprang up, seeing that there was a chance for
-another shot, and made all haste to reload his piece.
-
-He put the powder and shot in without any wad between, as
-before--though not quite so much as at first,--for he thought he had
-loaded a little too heavy. There was a pain in his shoulder yet, and he
-did not care to be hit that way again. He rammed the charge down in a
-great hurry, looked in the pan to see if the priming was all right, and
-then went softly towards the owl.
-
-When Ephraim got near the owl turned his head first to one side and
-then to the other, as if he suspected there was a boy in the woods,
-somewhere; but he did not fly, and, nervous with haste, Ephraim found
-another rest, and again took good aim.
-
-Strange to say that gun hit him again. He even rolled upon the ground,
-feeling as if he had got a double allowance of pain. Just as soon
-as he could think at all, he decided that he wouldn’t fire that gun
-again. Of course he had killed the owl (a very reasonable supposition,
-considering how hard the gun had hit him), and he guessed he wouldn’t
-hunt any more that time.
-
-But when he looked for the owl he didn’t see him anywhere. Could it be
-that there hadn’t been any owl there? An optical illusion, he might
-have thought, had he ever heard of such a thing. At any rate there was
-no owl there. But he noticed something sticking in the limb where he
-thought the owl had been--and he kept his eyes on it for some time. It
-looked like the ramrod that belonged to his gun; but how in the world
-could that be?
-
-He looked at his gun, which was lying on the soft bed of leaves
-where it had fallen, and then he felt sure it was the ramrod, for it
-was gone. But how in the world?--He couldn’t understand it--till he
-happened to think that perhaps he didn’t take the ramrod out after
-loading.
-
-“Ah! that’s it!” thought he. “But what am I going to do? It’s away up
-there and I can’t get it!” and then Ephraim began to wish he had left
-the gun at home. The pain in his shoulder didn’t trouble him much
-then; his trouble was mostly in his mind, concerning his father and
-that ramrod. How he could reconcile one to the loss of the other was
-more than he could tell.
-
-It was a very large tree, without a foot-hold or a finger-hold for a
-long way up, and the ramrod was stuck in a large dead limb, ten feet
-out. Ephraim saw at once that he never could get it; and he wished he
-hadn’t fired that last shot. Possibly he thought the owl was to blame;
-but whether he did or not there was no help for it. So after awhile he
-got up, and picked up his gun, and went slowly and sadly towards home.
-
-He had not decided upon any course in particular when he entered the
-house. It was one of those cases the explanation of which must be left
-largely to the circumstances of the moment.
-
-His mother met him with the gun in his hand.
-
-“Ephraim!” said she astonished, and too frightened to say more.
-
-“I’ve been hunting, mother,” said Ephraim, very demurely.
-
-“Hunting, my child? Merciful Father!”
-
-“Father didn’t know, it, mother; and I don’t want you to tell him.”
-
-“My son! my son! is the gun loaded?”
-
-“Not now, mother. I fired it off.”
-
-“For pity’s sake, Ephraim! don’t ever take it out again.”
-
-“You won’t tell father, if I won’t take it again, will you, mother?”
-
-“You’ll promise me, Ephraim, that you will never take it again?”
-
-“Yes, mother, if you won’t tell him.”
-
-“Then put it where it belongs,--just as you found it. It’s a wonder you
-didn’t get hurt.”
-
-Ephraim might have said that he was a little hurt; for he had a sore
-and swollen shoulder; but he said nothing of that, nor of the ramrod;
-but he tried to be as good a boy as he could all the rest of the day.
-
-The captain was late home that night, and did not notice anything
-wrong; but the next day, while at his desk, his eyes fell upon his old
-training-gun, and he saw that the ramrod was missing. He mused upon
-it. Where could it be? He never lent that gun; nobody had had it out of
-the house that he knew of. He went and asked his wife.
-
-Ephraim happened to be with his mother; and when his father asked about
-the ramrod he looked at her and she looked at him. One or the other of
-them must let the cat out, but which should it be?
-
-“Do you know anything about the ramrod, Ephraim?” she asked.
-
-“I went a-hunting, father,” said Ephraim, looking down.
-
-“A-hunting? Who--what--when? You have not been shooting that gun, have
-you?”
-
-“Yes, sir.”
-
-“Goodness! Who loaded it?”
-
-“I--did--sir.”
-
-“And fired it off?”
-
-“Yes, sir.”
-
-“Did you kill anything?”
-
-“I--don’t know,--sir.”
-
-After all, the captain couldn’t help laughing at this point, and as
-soon as he did Ephraim felt better. He brightened up in a moment, and
-made the best of his father’s good-nature by telling the whole story at
-once. He had forgotten to take the ramrod out, he said, and fired it at
-the owl. He guessed the owl went off to die somewhere, for he didn’t
-see him again; but the ramrod was up so high he couldn’t get it.
-
-The captain laughed; still, the view he took of the matter was an
-unpleasantly serious one for Ephraim; who understood that if he should
-ever take that gun again in his father’s absence the consequences
-would be direful. The gun was no gun without a ramrod, in his father’s
-trained eyes, so he at once set out, with Ephraim as guide, and the
-hired man carrying a ladder, to recover it.
-
-Ephraim led them straight to the tree, and there the ramrod was, still
-sticking in the limb. But the ladder proved too short, and they had
-to go back without it. The next day they went again, with the longest
-ladder on the farm, and got the ramrod and carried it home.
-
-But Ephraim never fired it off again.
-
-
-
-
-[Illustration]
-
-CHINESE DECORATION FOR EASTER EGGS.
-
-BY S. K. B.
-
-
-[Illustration: DIAGRAMS OF DECORATIONS FOR EASTER EGGS.]
-
-You should select a good-sized egg, and of a rich dark color. I have
-found that eggs laid by the Brahma hens are just about the right shade
-for pleasing effect.
-
-First make an opening in the large end and drop out the contents of the
-shell. Then with your pencil trace lightly on the shell some features
-as in fig. 1. Next paint the whites of the eyes with solid white, and
-the lips a bright vermilion. Then go over your outlines with black
-paint or India ink, filling the eyeball with black. Use water-color
-paints.
-
-Now we have a showy-looking Chinaman, but he has no cap on; neither
-does he wear the national pigtail. To supply the first of these
-necessary articles, you will cut a piece of bright-colored paper after
-the fashion of fig. 2. If you please, you can decorate it with a heavy
-line of black paint. Its pieces 1, 2, 3 and 4, are to be bent tightly
-up at the dotted line, so as to receive a decided crease. Then each one
-may be touched with stiff paste, slipped within the shell and fastened.
-Then the strip must be pasted together at A and B, drawing one end over
-the other far enough to make the cap fit well.
-
-To make the pigtail, take some black silk twist and make a braid about
-four inches long, and about as thick as single zephyr worsted. Tie one
-end with a bit of thread, and paste the other end on the top of the
-back part of the head. This you will do before you fasten the cap on.
-Now our Chinaman is finished--and when you have hung him up by a silken
-ribbon pasted inside of his cap, he will look very much like fig. 3,
-and he can be made to hold popcorn or any light candy.
-
-[Illustration]
-
-
-
-
-IL SANTISSIMO BAMBINO.
-
-BY PHEBE F. MᶜKEEN.
-
-
-On the Capitoline Hill, in Rome, stands a church, twelve hundred years
-old, called Ara Cœli. It is unpromising in its outward appearance, but
-is rich in marbles and mosaics within.
-
-[Illustration: THE BAMBINO.]
-
-The most precious possession of this ancient church, however, is a
-wooden doll called Il Santissimo Bambino--The Most Holy Infant. It is
-dressed like an Italian baby, and an Italian baby is dressed like a
-mummy. We often see them in their mothers’ arms, so swathed that they
-can no more move than a bundle without any baby inside of it. Their
-little legs must ache for the freedom of kicking. The dress of _the_
-Bambino is very different from that of _a_ bambino after all, for it is
-cloth of silver, and it sparkles all over with jewels which have been
-presented to it, and it wears a golden crown upon its head.
-
-This is the history of this remarkable doll, as devout Roman Catholics
-believe. You must judge for yourselves how much of it is truth and how
-much fable.
-
-They say this image of the infant Saviour was carved from olive-wood
-which grew upon the Mount of Olives, by a monk who lived in Palestine;
-and, as he had no means of painting it with sufficient beauty, his
-prayers prevailed upon St. Luke to come down from Heaven and color
-it for him. Then he sent it to Rome to be present at the Christmas
-festival. It was shipwrecked on the way, but finally came safely to
-land, and was received with great reverence by the Franciscan monks,
-who placed it in a shrine at Ara Cœli. It was soon found to have
-miraculous power to heal the sick, and was so often sent for to visit
-them, that, at one time, it received more fees than any physician in
-Rome. It has its own carriage in which it rides abroad, and its own
-attendants who guard it with the utmost care.
-
-One woman was so selfish as to think it would be a capital thing if she
-could get possession of this wonder-working image for herself and her
-friends.
-
-“She had another doll prepared of the same size and appearance as the
-‘Santissimo,’ and having feigned sickness and obtained permission to
-have it left with her, she dressed the false image in its clothes, and
-sent it back to Ara Cœli. The fraud was not discovered till night,
-when the Franciscan monks were awakened by the most furious ringing
-of bells and by thundering knocks at the west door of the church,
-and, hastening thither, could see nothing but a wee, naked, pink
-foot peeping in from under the door; but when they opened the door,
-without stood the little naked figure of the true Bambino of Ara Cœli,
-shivering in the wind and rain. So the false baby was sent back in
-disgrace, and the real baby restored to its home, never to be trusted
-away alone any more.”
-
-This marvelous escape is duly recorded in the Sacristy of the church
-where the Bambino safely dwells under lock and key all the year, except
-the time from Christmas to Epiphany, when it comes out to receive the
-homage of the people.
-
-We went to see it last Christmas.
-
-As I told you, the church stands on one of the Seven Hills of the
-Eternal City; it is approached by a flight of stone steps as wide as
-the building itself and as high as the hill. There were many beggars on
-these steps; some old and blind, others young and bright-eyed. Beside
-the beggars, there were people with tiny images of the Baby in the
-Manger, toy sheep, and pictures of the Bambino for sale.
-
-When we went into the church, we found one of the chapels fitted up
-like a tableau. The chapels are something like large alcoves along
-the sides of a church. Each is consecrated to some saint, and often
-belongs to some particular family who have their weddings and funerals
-there.
-
-[Illustration: FAMILY OF ROMAN BEGGARS.]
-
-It was in the second chapel on the left that we found the scene
-represented. The Virgin Mary was dressed in a bright blue silk, adorned
-with various jewels. In her lap lay the Bambino, about the size of a
-baby six weeks old. I do not believe St. Luke painted its face, for
-it was not half so well done as most of the wooden dolls we see. An
-artificial mule had his nose close to the baby’s head. Joseph sat near,
-and in front the shepherds were kneeling. All these people were of
-life-size, made of wood, and dressed in real clothes. Beyond them was
-to be seen a pretty landscape--sheep, covered with real wool, a girl
-with a pitcher on her head coming down a path to a sparkling fountain
-of _glass_. In the distance was the town of Bethlehem. In mid-air
-hovered an angel, hung by a wire in his back from the ceiling. On
-pasteboard screens, above the Virgin and Child were painted a crowd of
-cherubs looking down, and in their midst God the Father--whom no one
-hath seen nor can see--was represented in the likeness of a venerable
-man, spreading his hands in blessing over the group below.
-
-A great many little children were coming with the older people to look
-at all this, and talking, in their pretty Italian tongue, about the
-“Bambino.”
-
-Epiphany, as perhaps you know, is the day kept in memory of the visit
-of the Wise Men whom the Star in the East guided to our Saviour’s
-cradle. On that day, Il Santissimo Bambino was to be carried with all
-ceremony back to the Sacristy; so we went to see that.
-
-We were glad to find the Blessed Virgin had two nice silk dresses; she
-had changed from blue to red, and the Bambino was standing on her knee.
-The Shepherds had gone, and the Wise Men had come, all very gorgeous
-in flowered brocade and cloth of gold, with crowns on their heads, and
-pages to hold their trains.
-
-It was yet an hour or two before the “Procession of the Holy Cradle”
-would proceed; so we went out of the side door of the church to stray
-about the Capitoline Hill in the meanwhile.
-
-We went down the steps where Tiberias Gracchus, the friend of the
-people, was killed, some two thousand years ago. That brought us into
-a small square called Piazza di Campidoglio. It is surrounded on three
-sides by public buildings, and in front has a grand stairway leading
-down to the street. It was in this very spot that Brutus made his
-famous speech after the assassination of Julius Cæsar. We crossed the
-square, went up some steps and through an archway.
-
-A company of little Romans were playing soldier there, and the small
-drum-major made the walls of the capitol resound with his rattling
-music. That reminds me to tell you that Santa Claus does not visit
-Italy; but an old woman, named Navona, comes instead. She may be his
-wife, for aught I know; in fact, it seems quite likely, for she has a
-way, just like his, of coming down the chimney, bringing gifts for the
-good children and switches for the naughty. These must have been very
-good little boys, for every one of them seemed to have a new sword or
-gun. Probably Navona has to keep the house while Santa Claus is away
-about his Christmas business, and that is the reason she does not reach
-her small people here until the night before Epiphany, the 6th of
-January.
-
-We went down a lane of poor houses, dodging the clothes which hung
-drying over our heads, and came to a large green gate in the high
-stone wall of a garden. We knocked, but no one answered. Presently a
-black-eyed little boy came running to us, glad to earn two or three
-sous by going to call the _custode_. While we wait for him to do so,
-I must tell you why we wished to go through this green door. You have
-read, either in Latin or English, the story of Tarpæia, the Roman
-maiden, who consented to show the Latin soldiers the way into the
-citadel if they would give her what they wore on their left arms,
-meaning their bracelets, and then the grim joke they played after she
-had done her part, by throwing upon her their shields, which were also
-“what they wore on their left arms.”
-
-It was to see the Tarpæian rock, where she led her country’s enemies
-up, and where, later, traitors were hurled down, that we wished to
-go through the gate. Presently the keeper came, a rosy young woman,
-leading a little girl, who was feeling very rich over a new dolly she
-was dangling by its arm.
-
-We were admitted to a small garden, where pretty pink roses were in
-blossom, and the oranges were hanging on the trees, though the icicles
-were fringing the fountain not far away. On the edge of the garden,
-along the brow of the cliff, runs a thick wall of brown stone; we
-leaned over it and looked down the steep rock which one assaulting
-party after another tried, in old times, to scale.
-
-It was on this side that the Gauls were trying to reach the citadel at
-the time the geese saved the city. Do you know that for a long time,
-annually, a dog was crucified on the capitol, and a goose carried in
-triumph, because, on that occasion, the dogs failed to give the alarm
-and the geese did it!
-
-We looked down on the roofs and into the courts of poor houses which
-have huddled close about the foot of the hill, but beyond them we
-could look down into the Forum, where Virginia was stabbed, where
-Horatius hung up the spoil of the Curiatii, where the body of Julius
-Cæsar was burned, where the head of Cicero was cruelly exposed on the
-very rostrum where had often been seen the triumph of his eloquence.
-Opposite to us stood the Palatine Hill, a mass of crumbling palaces;
-a little farther off rose the mighty wall of the Coliseum, where the
-gladiators used to fight, and where so many Christian martyrs were
-thrown to the wild beasts while tens of thousands of their fellow-men,
-more cruel than lions, looked on, for sport.
-
-Just at the roots of the Capitoline, close by, though out of sight, was
-the Mamertine Prison, where St. Paul, of whom the world was not worthy,
-was once shut up in the dismal darkness of the dungeon.
-
-As we went from the garden back to the Piazza di Campidoglio, we
-saw something unusual was going on in the palace on the left of the
-capital. In the door stood a guard in resplendent array of crimson
-and gold lace. Looking through the arched entrance, we could see in
-the inner court an open carriage with driver and footman in livery of
-bright scarlet. Something of a crowd was gathering in the corridors.
-We stopped to learn what it was all about. An Italian woman answered,
-“La Principessa Margarita!” and an English lady close by explained that
-the Princess Margaret, wife of the crown prince, had come to distribute
-prizes to the children of the public schools. Only invited guests could
-be present, but the people were waiting to see her come down. So we
-joined the people and waited also.
-
-It was a long time and a pretty cold one. A brass band in the court
-cheered our spirits now and then. The fine span of the princess looked
-rather excited, at first, by the trumpets so close to their ears,
-but they stood their ground bravely. If one of the scarlet footmen
-tightened a buckle, it raised our hopes that his mistress was coming;
-the other put a fresh cigar in his mouth, and they sank.
-
-[Illustration: THE EQUIPAGE OF THE BAMBINO.--Page 76.]
-
-Meantime the guard in the gold-laced crimson coat and yellow silk
-stockings paced up and down. At length there was a messenger from
-above; the royal carriage drove under the arch close to us. There was
-a rustle, and down came the princely lady, dressed in purple velvet,
-with mauve feathers in her hat, a white veil drawn over her face, and
-a large bouquet in her white-gloved hand--rather pretty, and very
-graceful. Before entering her carriage, she turned to shake hands
-with the ladies and gentlemen who had accompanied her. She was very
-complaisant, bowing low to them, and they still lower to her. Then
-she bowed graciously to the crowd right and left, and they responded
-gratefully. She smiled upon them, high and low, but there was a look in
-her face, as it passed close to me, as if she was tired of smiling for
-the public. She seated herself in the carriage; the lady-in-waiting
-took her place beside her, the gentleman-in-waiting threw over them the
-carriage-robe of white ermine lined with light blue velvet and stepped
-in himself.
-
-Then the equipage rolled off, the scarlet footmen getting up behind as
-it started. This princess is very good and kind, greatly beloved by
-the people, and, as there is no queen, she is the first lady in the
-kingdom. Her husband first and her little son next are heirs to the
-crown.
-
-This show being over, we hastened back to the church, fearing we had
-missed the Bambino in our pursuit of the princess. But we were in good
-time. On the side of the church opposite the tableau was a small,
-temporary platform. Little boys and girls were placed upon this, one
-after the other, to speak short pieces or recite verses about the
-Infant Christ. It was a kind of Sunday-school concert in Italian. The
-language is very sweet in a child’s mouth. There were a great many
-bright, black-eyed children in the church, and most of them seemed to
-have brought their Christmas presents along with them, as if to show
-them to the Bambino.
-
-There were ragged men in the crowd, and monks, and country-women with
-handkerchiefs tied over their heads for bonnets. One of them who stood
-near me had her first finger covered with rings up to the last joint.
-That is their great ambition in the way of dress.
-
-At length the organ ceased playing, and the notes of a military band
-were heard. Then we saw a banner moving slowly down one of the aisles,
-followed by a train of lighted tapers. Over the heads of the people
-we could only see the banner and the lights; they passed down and
-paused to take the Bambino. Then they marched slowly all around the
-church--people falling on their knees as they passed by.
-
-Out at the front door they went, and that sacred image was held high
-aloft, so that all the people on the great stairway and in the square
-below might get a sight of it, and be blessed. Then up the middle of
-the church they came, to the high altar. This was our chance to see
-them perfectly.
-
-First the banner, with an image of the Virgin on it, was borne by
-a young priest dressed in a long black robe and a white short gown
-trimmed with lace; next came a long procession of men in ordinary
-dress, carrying long and large wax candles, which they had a
-disagreeable habit or dripping as they went along.
-
-“Servants of great houses,” remarked a lady behind me.
-
-“They used to come themselves,” answered another.
-
-Then followed Franciscan monks in their brown copes, each with a
-knotted rope for a girdle, and sandals only on his bare feet. After
-these came the band of musicians, all little boys; and now approached,
-with measured tread, three priests in rich robes of white brocade,
-enriched with silver. The middle one, a tall, venerable-looking man,
-with hoary hair and solemn countenance, held erect in his hands the
-sacred dolly. As it passed, believers dropped upon their knees. When he
-reached the high altar, he reverently kissed its feet, and delivered it
-to its custodian to be carried to the Sacristy!
-
-[Illustration]
-
-
-
-
-[Illustration]
-
-MY MOTHER PUT IT ON.
-
-BY MRS. A. D. T. WHITNEY.
-
-
-It was old Boston--Boston forty years and more ago,--and it was New
-Year’s morning.
-
-We had lived in our new house in one of the lately laid-out, airy
-neighborhoods over on the West Hill since June. Before that, we lived
-in Pearl street, where all the great warehouses are now, and where the
-other great warehouses were burned down,--melted into strange, stone
-monuments of ruin,--in the terrible fire, six years ago from now. Down
-in Pearl street, in a large house with a garden to it, and a wonderful
-staircase inside that had landings with balustraded arches through to
-other landings, and which was a sublimity and delight to me that the
-splendid stairways in Roman palaces can scarcely equal now,--still
-lived my best and beautiful friend, Elizabeth Hunter. I thought in
-those days all Elizabeths were beautiful, because I knew two who had
-fair, delicious complexions, sweet, deep-cornered mouths, and brown
-hair. My hair was light and straight and fine; it looked thin and cold
-to me by side of theirs.
-
-On this New Year, I was to go and spend the day with Elizabeth. My
-father and my brother Andrew were to come to dinner. My mother was
-an invalid, and could not bear the cold and the fatigue. But she had
-my pretty dress all ready for me, a soft, blue merino--real deep-sky
-blue,--with trimming to the tucks and hem and low neck-band and
-sleeve-bindings of dark carbuncle-colored velvet ribbon in a raised
-Greek pattern. You may think it looked queer; but it didn’t; it was
-very pretty and becoming.
-
-Before I was to go, however, there was ever so much other New Year
-delight to keep the time from seeming long. Father and Andrew were
-going down to the whip-factory in Dock square, to choose for Andrew the
-longest-lashed toy-whip, with the gayest snapper and the handsomest
-handle, that he could pick out there. And afterward they were going to
-a great toy-shop, to buy me the wax doll I had been promised.
-
-I did not care to choose my doll, as Andrew would choose his whip. I
-had a kind of real little-mother feeling about that. I would rather
-have what came to me, what my father brought me. I wanted it to be mine
-from the first minute I saw it, without any doubt, or any chance to
-choose otherwise. If I had looked and hesitated among dozens of them,
-and picked out one, I should always have felt as if I had left some
-child behind that maybe ought to have been mine, and that I had not
-quite _whole_ chosen any one. So I was content to stay with my mother,
-and run down from her with the quarter and half dollars to the watchman
-and the carrier and the scavenger and the milkman, when they came with
-their expectation of a little present. What dear old simple days those
-were, when we had a family regard for our milkman, our watchman, our
-scavenger!
-
-Meanwhile, I was to be dressed.
-
-I had just got on my blue morocco slippers, that looked so funny with
-my striped dark calico morning-frock, when the bell, that I thought I
-had done answering with the silver fees, rang loudly again. Marcella,
-our housemaid, called me from the foot of the nursery stairs.
-
-“It’s somebody for you, Miss Emmeline,” she said, and I thought she
-meant another man for money. I took the last quarter from the little
-wallet father had filled for me, and ran down. But it was the tall
-black servant from the Hunters. And he had in his hand a pretty paper
-box tied with a silk cord.
-
-“Mrs. Hunter’s compliments and love, miss, to you and to your ma; and
-she hopes you’ll wear something she has made for you just like Miss
-Elizabeth’s, to-day.”
-
-I took the box, made a little courtesy to him, and said, “Please thank
-Mrs. Hunter, and say I wish her a happy New Year, and here’s a happy
-New Year for you.” For I thought he couldn’t help seeing the silver
-quarter, and thinking it was for him; and father had told me to “use my
-judgment,” and I certainly wanted to give it to him the minute I saw
-he had come all the way with a present for me. Elizabeth and I liked
-Jefferson very much; he gave us macaroons and prunes and almonds from
-the pantry, and he swung us in the swing in the great drying-room. He
-made me a fine bow, and thanked me, and said he should keep my quarter
-for luck.
-
-So I ran up to my mother, and kissed her--for somehow whenever anything
-pleasant came to me I always kissed my mother--and we opened the box.
-It was a beautiful blue silk braid net, with a long blue ribbon run
-through to tie it round the head with.
-
-“O, mother!” I cried, “it’s a _long_ ribbon, for flying ends!” I was so
-glad; for I had no curls like Elizabeth’s and I thought flying ribbons
-would seem like them a little, and I had never worn any.
-
-“It is very pretty,” said my mother; “but I think, dear, with your
-short hair, a short bow would look better.”
-
-She did not tell me that my face was narrow and my nose was long, and
-that I couldn’t possibly look like Elizabeth Hunter, even with flying
-ends. I know it now, as I have found out a good many things that I
-didn’t understand at the time.
-
-I was disappointed; too disappointed to say anything; and before I
-spoke, mother, who had put the net over my hair, and drawn the ribbon,
-tied a butterfly bow with it over my left ear, and snipped the ends
-into short dovetails with her small bright toilet scissors.
-
-I choked a little in my throat, and the tears came into my eyes.
-
-“Did you care so much?” asked mother tenderly, and kissed me again.
-“But it is a _great deal_ prettier for you so; trust me, dear.”
-
-I did not speak then, for I couldn’t; but I tried to swallow the choke
-and the tears; mother who was always kind, had been so dearly kind
-to me that day. And Andrew came running up the stairs just then, and
-bounced in at the door; and there was my dear wax-baby in his arms, and
-I was a happy little mother; and what happy little mother, with her
-baby born on New Year’s morning cares how her cap is tied?
-
-The baby was dressed in a pretty white slip and a bib; and there was a
-blanket with pink scalloped edges, to wrap it in.
-
-“There were dollies a good deal older, and some all grown up,” said
-Andrew; “but father thought you’d want to have it a real baby, and let
-it grow. And it opens and shuts its eyes. See here! There! it’s gone to
-sleep; and now look at my whip!” He pulled it out from under his arm,
-whence it trailed behind him, and cracked it gloriously with its yellow
-snappers, right over my baby’s head.
-
-“O, And! Be careful! Give her right to me. Boys don’t know how to tend
-babies, you know. But you’re _real_ good; and your whip is splendid!”
-
-“Guess I am! Brought her right straight along, and didn’t care a mite,
-and three boys hollered after me, ‘’Fore I’d be a girl, and carry a
-rag-baby!’ I just kept her with one hand and cracked my whip with the
-other, and looked right ahead, as if they wasn’t anywhere!”
-
-I put my arms round his neck, and hugged him and the baby and the whip
-all together; for my Andie always was a hero, and loved me. He brought
-me my greatest gift pleasures, and my happiest surprises. Father
-always took him into the plan, if Andie hadn’t already begged it for
-me,--whenever there was one. I think our parents had that notion about
-son and daughter, and what the little man and woman should be to each
-other. Mother used to set me to do all the little cheery, comfortable
-home-things for Andie. Andie brought me my wax doll when I was seven
-years old; he walked down to Jones’s, with father, the day he was
-seventeen, and brought me home my real, gold watch. I always mended
-Andie’s stockings after I was old enough,--and quite little girls were
-old enough in those days; and I made pan ginger-bread for his supper
-when he was coming home cold from coasting on the Common; and I read
-to him when he was sick with sore throat and saved money to fill his
-bag with white alleys when marble-time came round. Andie and I used to
-promise never to get married, but to keep house with each other when we
-were grown up. I have never got married; but Andie has been lying in
-the gray stone tomb at Mount Auburn for thirty years.
-
-My mother hurried me a little now; for Marcella was ready.
-
-We walked down across the Common, Marcella and I; she was to leave me
-at the door. There was a biting wind, with snow-needles in it; and
-the path was deep with half-trodden snow; but I was warm in my cloth
-pelisse with gray fur cape and border,--my quilted bonnet edged with
-fur, and my thick little mocasins with gray fur round the ankles.
-
-I was perfectly happy till Mrs. Hunter unfastened my things by the
-large parlor fire, and lifted off my bonnet carefully.
-
-Elizabeth, with her dimpled face, her sweet-set mouth, her brown curls
-among which the long blue ribbon floated,--for the net was a mere
-matter of ornament, and lay light and loose over the hair, held only
-by the ribbon band simply tied at the left temple,--was standing by,
-impatient to get me out and begin our day.
-
-“Why, where are the long ends?” she said. And then I immediately felt
-as if all there was of me was that one little, short-chopped, butterfly
-bow.
-
-“Mother thought--” I began, and there stopped. My lips trembled a
-little, and I blushed hot.
-
-Mrs. Hunter looked sorry. “Was she _quite_ particular?” she asked,
-after an instant. “Because I have another ribbon. Just for _to-day_,
-perhaps, because you like to be like Lizzie? It would be a pity not
-to please the child,” she said to Mrs. Marchand, her sister, who was
-there. She was drawing the blue ribbon from her pretty round, carved
-worktable, and she put out her hand to untie my little bow.
-
-Then it came over me. I started back. “Please! No! Please not, Mrs.
-Hunter. Thank you--a great deal--” I stammered, in a hurry, and afraid
-I was dreadfully impolite,--“but _mother put it on_!”
-
-I wouldn’t have had that bow with the dovetailed ends untied, that
-minute, for all the world.
-
-A singular expression, I thought, passed between the faces of the two
-ladies. Mrs. Hunter leaned down from her chair, reached my hand, drew
-me to her again, and kissed me. “You are a dear little thing,” she said
-to me. “The little souls know best,” she said to her sister.
-
-“When the little souls are--” but Mrs. Marchand did not say what.
-
-I wondered why Mrs. Hunter, while she praised me,--but it was not
-praise either; it was better than that,--should have looked as if she
-pitied me so. I couldn’t think it was for the sake of the ribbon. No,
-indeed: I know now what it was.
-
-We had a beautiful time. Of course I had brought my baby, and I
-secretly thought it was a great deal cunninger and prettier than
-Elizabeth’s, that she had had ever since her last birthday, and that
-really looked quite old and common to me now, though she had kept it so
-nice, and I had admired it so.
-
-Father and Andrew came to dinner; and after dinner we had forfeits,
-and Hunt the Ring, and Magical Music, and Still Palm. There were three
-other children who came to spend the afternoon.
-
-I was very happy. There was a hidden corner in my heart that kept
-warming up every now and then, as if mother and I had a secret
-together, and we were whispering it to each other across the wide, cold
-city. Elizabeth’s pretty hair and long blue ribbons flew this way and
-that in the merry play and running; and I noticed them just as I always
-had, and I knew that there was nothing pretty about my short, plain,
-light-colored hair, and I _did_ think that flying ends would have been
-a comfort if I could have had them in the first place; but there was
-something beyond comfort in the loyalty of wearing that butterfly bow
-which nobody need touch or try to change for me, since--because she
-thought it best for me to wear it so--my mother had put it on!
-
-[Illustration: I HAD BROUGHT MY BABY.]
-
-I ran straight up to her dressing-room the minute we got home. She sat
-there in her white flannel wrapper before the fire. I threw my arms
-around her and laid my head down on her lap.
-
-“Now untie the little bow,” I said: and she asked: “Did my little girl
-wear it all the day for my sake?”
-
-She understood. We _had_ been whispering to each other’s thought across
-all the cold, wide city.
-
-“Mother,” I asked her, after I said my prayers, and before I said
-goodnight, “why did I have such a Rocky-Mountain kind of a face? Why
-couldn’t God have given me a pretty, _flat_ face? Can you tell?”
-
-“God didn’t see best to make you handsome, dear; but He will make you
-beautiful, if you will let Him, his own way. And I don’t think,” she
-added, more lightly, and laughing a sweet laugh, “that my Emmie’s face
-_could_ be a _flat_ one! It wouldn’t suit her at all; and I love this a
-great deal better!”
-
-       *       *       *       *       *
-
-When I was seventeen years old, my mother had been dead eight years. I
-had a stepmother.
-
-That was horrible, you think? Wait till you hear.
-
-When my father--a graver, silenter, but not less kind and gentle
-man--brought home at last this lady, as truly, I think, for our sakes
-as his own,--he called us to them both as they sat together on the long
-velvet sofa in the library. I remember the moment, and the look of
-everything as if it were just now. It was a September midday; they had
-been married in church, and we had all come straight home; there was no
-company,--“this day was for themselves and the children,”--and dinner
-was going on, almost just as usual, in the dining room beyond.
-
-The lady, whom we had seen but few times,--her home had been at a
-distance in the country,--was dressed in a plain violet silk; and now
-her bonnet was off, her dark hair looked homelike and simple, just
-parted away over her low, pleasant forehead and twisted richly behind;
-and her face,--I never forget that about it,--was watching the door
-when we came in.
-
-My father said to me, being the girl and the oldest,--“Emmeline, I
-hope you will be the happier for this day, and I believe you will,
-from this day forward as long as you and my wife shall live.” He
-fell, unpremeditatedly, into the words of the Solemn Service that had
-been spoken over them; it was as if he had married us two, in our new
-relation, to each other.
-
-He said to Andrew--“My boy knows what men owe to women; he and I must
-do our best and manliest for these two. We four are a family now.”
-
-The new wife stretched out a hand to each of us. She slipped her arm
-round me, and drew me to her side, while she held Andrew’s hand upon
-her knee. The face that looked into mine was very wistful and kind; it
-almost seemed to beseech something of me. It asked leave to be loving.
-
-We children did not know what to say. I felt uneasy not to speak at
-all. I believe I smiled a little, shyly. Then I asked--
-
-“What shall I call you, please?”
-
-“What shall they call you, Lucy?” asked my father.
-
-“Call me ‘step-mamma,’” was the answer; and I think he was utterly
-surprised.
-
-“I will not take their mother’s name away,” she said. “I will not be
-_instead_ of her. I will be called just what I want to be; a step, a
-link, between her and them. I will try and do _for_ her what she would
-have done if she had stayed.”
-
-“Then I think I’ll call you ‘For-mamma,’” said straight-spoken Andrew.
-“I think that will do very well.”
-
-We all laughed; and it relieved the feeling. “Thank you, Andrew,” said
-our step-mamma. “That is a great help at the very beginning. I believe
-we shall understand each other.”
-
-For my part I only kissed her. By the way she kissed me back, I knew it
-was her first act “for” my mother.
-
-So we began to love her, and we called her “step-mamma.” People thought
-it very odd, and we never explained it to them. We let our relation
-explain itself. But _among_ ourselves, the familiar, privileged,
-lovely name was “For-mamma.” That we kept this sign through so many
-years,--the years of our troublesome, probative childhood,--tells more
-than any story of the years could tell.
-
-I only wanted to say a little bit of what she was to me at seventeen;
-and how my mother’s very words came again to me through her, as by an
-accepted mediation.
-
-I went with her to a large party; my very first large grown-up party.
-
-My old friend, Elizabeth Hunter, was a bride this winter. I had been
-bridesmaid at her wedding; that was the beginning of my coming out,
-earlier than I should otherwise have done.
-
-What a plain little bridesmaid I had been, to what an exquisite vision
-of a bride! I remember thinking as we, the bridal party, walked through
-the long rooms, when all was gay, and ceremony was broken through at
-supper-time--when the rooms rustled with the turning of the groups
-to look after her and the murmur went along about her beauty--“What
-difference ought it to make, that _she_ is the beauty, and that I can
-never be,--so long as the beauty _is_ and we all feel it?” Yet the
-strange difference was there, and the cross of my beauty-loving nature
-was that I in my own being and movement, could never hold and represent
-it.
-
-I looked at myself when I had dressed for this large party. The lovely
-blue silk--the delicate lace--the white roses--they almost achieved
-prettiness enough of themselves; and I suppose I looked as nice as I
-could; but there were still the too prominent brows, the nose too big
-for the eyes, the lips too easily parted over the teeth fine and white,
-but contributing to the excess of profile, or middle-face, that had
-made me call it Rocky-Mountain outline when I was a child.
-
-I went down to my step-mamma’s room. She, in her ruby-colored satin,
-was fairer at thirty-eight than I at seventeen. I sat watching her as
-she put pearl earrings into her ears.
-
-“For-mamma,” I said, “I don’t believe I shall ever care much for
-parties. And it will be for a very mean and selfish reason, too.--I
-think it is only pretty people who can enjoy them much.”
-
-She laid down the second pearl hoop on the table, and came to me.
-
-“Emmie,” she said, “I know it is a hard thing for a woman who loves all
-lovely things, not to be very beautiful herself. The dear Lord has not
-made you very beautiful, in mere features. But can’t you wear a plain
-face awhile, because He has given it to you to wear, and trust to Him
-to make it lovely in his way and season?”
-
-My step-mamma hardly ever said anything so direct as this to me, about
-religion. She only lived her religion in a pleasant, comfortable,
-unassuming way, and kept a light shining by which I saw--without her
-flashing it upon me like a dark-lantern--into any little selfish
-or God-forgetful course of my own life. Now, these words came to
-me--across ten years--the very words said to me in that same room, at
-that same hour of night.... Why--it was the very night! We were going
-to a New Year’s party.
-
-A great heart-beat came up in my throat, and the tears pressed up
-together into face and eyes, while I felt the kindling of my own look,
-and saw what it must be by the answering color and the light in hers.
-
-I put my hands out and reached them round her waist as she stood close
-to me in her beautiful glowing dress, under which a more beautiful
-heart was glowing brighter. “I cannot tell you two apart, Mamma and
-For-mamma!” I said.
-
-We went together to the party. For-mamma had to put her one pearl hoop
-in her pocket after she got there, for she had forgotten the other
-on her dressing table. And what that party was to me I wonder if any
-grand, lovely, tender church-service ever was to anybody, more or
-better!
-
-I had a quiet time, compared to some girls who were always rushed
-after, and rushing through the gay dances. I was politely asked, and I
-did dance; but not every time; that was as it always was with me. But
-all the beauty and all the gladness in the whole room was mine; for it
-was all “the dear Lord’s,” and He was giving it as He would. “Passing
-it round,” I couldn’t help thinking--was it irreverent, I wonder--as
-the sweet, rich confections were passed round, that were meant, a
-share in turn, for all. My turn would come. And for my plain, still,
-Rocky-Mountain face that I was wearing now,--there was a secret between
-me and some Heart that thought of me across whatever cold and emptiness
-of wintry way might seem to lie between, like that which had been when
-in my childish disappointment I wore the simple bit of ribbon that “my
-mother had put on.”
-
-       *       *       *       *       *
-
-There came a time when I had to give up other beauty. To recognise that
-it was not for me,--yet. Not in all this long, waiting world, as other
-people have it. That was harder; yet it was all one. It seemed to me
-that some people were given at their birth a kind of ticket that opened
-to them all paradises; and that others were thrust forth, unaccredited,
-into a life whose most beautiful doors would be shut, one after
-another, in their faces.
-
-[Illustration: THE GROWN-UP EMMELINE.]
-
-I had to content myself with a fate like my face; a plain pleasantness
-without great, wonderful delight. A Rocky-Mountain aspect of living,
-that seemed hard and rough until I got into the heart of it, and let it
-shut out the fair champaigns, and then it showed me its own depth, and
-height, and glory.
-
-There was one long, heavy time when For-mamma and I were separated
-for years. For-mamma was a widow, now; we four that had been a family
-together were we two here and they two there; they _three_, in the
-other home. And my grandmother, in her feeble, querulous, uncomfortable
-old age, had nobody to come and live with her and “see her through,” as
-she said. At nearly the same time, For-mamma’s sister died, and there
-were five little children to be cared for. I thought she would never
-get away from that duty, though mine might see an end. But a new wife
-came there after a good while, as For-mamma--I _hope_ it was as she
-came--had come to us; and then grandmother died, and nobody could say
-otherwise than that it was a release. I did not say so; I hate to hear
-people say that; it is so apt to mean a release for those who outlive.
-There are long dyings, and brief ones; when it is over, we go back to
-the well time to measure our loss. Grandmother’s dying began almost
-twenty years before, when her nerves gave out, and her comfort in
-living was over, and people began to lose patience with her. I looked
-back to that time, and thought what a bright handsome woman, fond of
-her own way but with such a fine capable way, I could recollect her.
-
-I had tried to do my duty; it was a piece of life that the same
-Love had put on me that I had learned--a little--to believe in as a
-mother’s; and now it was over--“through,” and For-mamma and I came
-together again, so gladly!
-
-I suppose everybody thinks we are very fortunate people, and perfectly
-happy; for we have plenty of money, and can do all the pleasant things
-that can be done with money, for ourselves and for others. I suppose
-many persons think that my five years with Grandmother Cumberland were
-paid for in the fifty thousand dollars that she left me. I know that
-they were paid for as they went along, and as I found myself able and
-cheerful to live them.
-
-For-mamma and I _are_ happy; I do not think we shall ever leave each
-other now so long as we both may live. I often think how my father
-joined us together with those words.
-
-We have a lovely and dear home, and friends to fill it when we want
-them; we have happy errands to many who get some happiness through our
-hands; we have travelled together, and seen glorious and wonderful
-things; we read and think, we sing and sew, we laugh and talk and are
-silent together; we do not let each other miss or want. But, for all
-this we have each--and both together--our troubles to bear, that would
-not have been worthy to be called troubles if they had stirred in us so
-slightly as to have been forgotten long ago.
-
-We only bear them as things grown tender to us by their very pain and
-pressure, because of Some One who will say to us when we go home to Him:
-
-“_Did my dear child wear it all the day for My Sake?_”
-
-
-AFTERWARDS.
-
-[Illustration:]
-
-  Once, down in the night, but a blinded thing:--
-  Now, the great gold light and the beautiful wing!
-
-
-
-
-[Illustration]
-
-A CHILD IN FLORENCE.
-
-BY K. R. L.
-
-PART I.
-
-
-We lived in that same Casa Guidi from whose windows Elizabeth Barrett
-Browning’s poet-eyes saw what she afterward put into glowing verse.
-Casa Guidi is a great pile of graystone, a pile of many windows which
-give upon the Via Maggio and a little piazza, as the squares in
-Florence are called. Consequently it is lighter and brighter than are
-many of the houses in Florence, where the streets are narrow and the
-houses lofty.
-
-According to almost universal custom, Casa Guidi was divided into half
-a dozen different apartments, occupied by as many families. Ours was
-on the second floor, on the side of the house overlooking the piazza
-on which stood the church of San Felice. The pleasantest room in our
-apartment, as I thought, was a room in which I passed many hours of
-an ailing childhood; a room which I christened “The Gallery,” because
-it was long and narrow, and was hung with many cheerful pictures.
-It opened into a little boudoir at one end, and into the _salon_ at
-the other. The walls of gallery and boudoir were frescoed gayly with
-fruits, and flowers, and birds.
-
-Here the sun streamed in all through the long, mild, Florentine
-winters; here I would lie on my couch, and count the roses on the
-walls, and the birds, and the apricots, and listen to the cries in
-the streets; and, if a procession went by, hurry to the window and
-watch it pass, and stay at the window until I was tired, when I would
-totter back to my couch, and my day-dreams, and my drawing, and my
-verse-making, and my attempts at studying.
-
-I was fired with artist-ambitions at the age of ten; and what wonder,
-surrounded as I was by artists living and dead, and by their immortal
-works. It seemed to me then that one _must_ put all one’s impressions
-of sight and form into shape. But I did not develop well. Noses proved
-a stumbling-block, which I never overcame, to my attaining to eminence
-in figure-sketching.
-
-The picture that I admired most in those days was one of Judith holding
-up the gory head of Holofernes, in the Pitti Gallery of Paintings.
-I was seized with a longing to copy it, on my return from my first
-visit to the Gallery. I seated myself, one evening, before a sheet
-of drawing-paper, and I tried and tried; but the nose of Holofernes
-was too much for me. All that I could accomplish was something that
-resembled an enlarged interrogation mark, and recalled Chinese Art, as
-illustrated on fans. I was disappointed, disgusted--but, above all,
-surprised: it was my first intimation that “to do” is not “as easy as
-’tis to know what ’twere good to do.”
-
-In the midst of my futile efforts, a broad-shouldered, bearded man
-was announced, who, having shaken hands with the grown-ups, came and
-seated himself beside the little girl, and her paint-box and pencils
-and care-worn face.
-
-“O, Mr. Hart,” I cried, “do make this nose for me!”
-
-Whereupon he made it, giving me many valuable suggestions, meanwhile,
-as to the effect produced by judicious shading. Still, I was
-discouraged. It was borne in upon me that this was not _my_ branch of
-art.
-
-[Illustration: “POSING.”]
-
-“Mr. Hart,” I said, “I think I would like to make noses _your_ way.”
-
-“Would you? Then you shall. Come to my studio to-morrow, and you shall
-have some clay and a board, and try what you can do.”
-
-So the next day I insisted upon availing myself of this invitation. Mr.
-Hart was then elaborating his machine for taking portraits in marble,
-in his studio in the upper part of the city. He had always several
-busts on hand, excellent likenesses. His workmen would be employed in
-cutting out the marble, while he molded his original thought out of the
-plastic clay. There has always been a fascination to me in statuary.
-Mr. Ruskin tells us that form appealed to the old Greeks more forcibly
-than color. That was in the youth of the race; possibly, the first
-stage of art-development is an appreciation of form; in my case, I have
-not passed into the maturer stage yet. The rounded proportions, curves,
-and reality of a statue appeal to me as no painting ever did.
-
-Nevertheless, I made no greater progress in molding than in sketching.
-I made my hands very sticky; I used up several pounds of clay; then I
-relinquished my hopes of becoming a sculptor. I found it more to my
-taste to follow Mr. Hart around the rooms, to chatter with the workmen,
-to ask innumerable questions about the “Invention.”
-
-It has been suggested that it was to this Invention of Mr. Hart’s that
-Mrs. Browning referred when she wrote of--
-
-  “Just a shadow on a wall,”
-
-from which could be taken--
-
-              “The measure of a man,
-  Which is the measure of an angel, saith
-  The apostle.”
-
-Mr. Hart wore the apron and the cap that sculptors affect, as a
-protection from the fine, white dust that the marble sheds; generally,
-too, an ancient dressing-gown. Costumes in Bohemia, the native land of
-artists, are apt to be unconventional.
-
-It was a most wondrous thing to me to watch the brown clay take shapes
-and beauty under the sculptor’s touch. I can still see him fashioning
-a wreath of grape-leaves around a Bacchante’s head; the leaves would
-grow beneath his hand, in all the details of tendrils, stems, veinings.
-It seemed to me he must be so happy, to live in this world of his
-own creating. I hope that he was happy, the kindly man; he had the
-patience and the enthusiasm of the genuine artist,--a patience that had
-enabled him to surmount serious obstacles before he reached his present
-position. Like Powers and Rheinhart, he began life as a stone-cutter.
-I wonder what dreams of beauty those three men saw imprisoned in the
-unhewn stone, to which they longed to give shape, before Fate smiled on
-them, and put them in the way of doing the best that in them lay!
-
-[Illustration: AN ITALIAN GARDEN.]
-
-In spite of the fact that neither Painting nor Sculpture proved
-propitious, a great reverence and love of Art was born in me at this
-time. Possibly a love and reverence all the more intense, because Art
-became to me, individually, an unattainable thing. I remember passing
-many hours, at this period, in what would certainly have been durance
-vile, had I not been fired with a lofty ambition. Mr. Edwin White was
-sketching in a picture which called for two figures--an old man and
-a child. The old man was easily obtained, a beautiful professional
-model of advanced years; but the child was not so readily found. I was
-filled with secret joy when it was suggested to me that I should be
-the required model. I was enchanted when the permission was given me
-to perform this important service. This was before the time of the
-long illness to which I referred in the beginning of this paper. The
-spending every morning for a week or so in Mr. White’s studio implied
-the being excused from French verbs and Italian translations. What
-a happy life, I thought, to be a model! I envied the beautiful old
-patriarch with whom I was associated in this picture. Kneeling beside
-him, as I was instructed to do, I thought what bliss it would be to be
-associated with him always, and to go about with him from studio to
-studio, posing for pictures.
-
-There must be an inspiration for artists in the very air of Florence.
-The beautiful city is filled with memorials of the past, painted
-and carved by the masters passed away. I suppose that artists are
-constantly aroused to the wish to do great things by the sight of what
-these others have accomplished. Then, too, the history of the past,
-the religion of the past, are such realities in Florence. The artist
-feels called upon to interpret them, not as dead fancies, but as facts.
-The mythology of the Greeks and Romans meets one at every turn. I, for
-one, was as intimately acquainted with the family history of Venus, of
-Ceres, of Pallas, of Persephone, as with that of Queen Elizabeth, of
-Catherine de’ Medici, of Henrietta Maria. Nay, I was more intimate with
-the delightful elder set.
-
-The heathen gods reigned sylvanly in the Boboli Gardens, and it was
-there that I formed a most intimate personal acquaintance with them.
-The Boboli Gardens are the gardens of the Pitti Palace, an immense,
-unlovely pile, the memorial of the ambition of the Marquis Pitti, who
-reared it. He had vowed that he would build a palace large enough to
-hold in its court-yard the palace of his hated rival, the Marquis
-Strozzi. He was as good as his word; but in carrying out his designs he
-ruined his fortune. The vast palace, when completed, passed out of his
-hands into those of the Medici, then the Dukes of Florence. Afterwards,
-it became the residence of the foreign rulers of Florence. When I
-remember the city, Austrian soldiers guarded the great gateway of the
-Pitti, and marched up and down the court-yards; and the showy white
-uniforms of Austrian officers were conspicuous in the antechambers and
-guard-rooms.
-
-But behind the great palace, the fair Boboli Gardens spread away. There
-was a statue of Ceres crowning a terrace, up to which climbed other
-terraces--an amphitheatre of terraces, in truth, from a fish-pond in
-the centre--which commanded the city through which the Arno flowed.
-Many a sunny day have we children--my sisters and I--sat at the base
-of this statue and gossiped about Ceres,--beautiful Mother Nature, and
-her daughter, who was stolen from her by the Dark King. Further down,
-on a lower slope, was a statue of Pallas, with her calm, resolute
-face, her helmet, her spear, her owl. I remember that Millie, and Eva,
-and I, were especially fond of this Pallas. I used to wonder why it
-was that men should ever have been votaries of Venus rather than of
-her. I have ceased to wonder at this, since then; but in those days I
-especially criticised a statue of Venus, after the well-known Venus of
-Canova, which impressed me as insipid. This statue stood hard by the
-severe majesty of Pallas, white against a background of oleanders and
-laurestines.
-
-Then there was a second fish-pond, in the center of which was an
-orange-island, about which tritons and mermen and mermaids were
-disposed. I can see their good-humored, gay--nay, some of them
-were even _leering_--faces still. Soulless creatures these, we
-were well aware, and so were sorry for them. The immortal gods, of
-course, we credited with souls; but these--with the wood-nymphs, and
-bacchantes, and satyrs, that we were apt to come upon all through the
-garden,--these we classed as only on a level a trifle higher than that
-of the trees, and brooks, into which some of them had been transformed
-in the course of the vicissitudes of their careers.
-
-Perhaps it is because the spirit of the old religion so took possession
-of me in that Italian garden, that to this day the woods, and the
-dells, and the rocks, seem to me to be the embodied forms of living
-creatures. A Daphne waves her arms from the laurel tree; a Clytie
-forever turns to her sun-lover, in the sunflower.
-
-[Illustration]
-
-
-
-
-A CHILD IN FLORENCE
-
-BY K. R. L.
-
-PART II.
-
-
-The two public picture galleries of Florence--the Pitti and the
-Uffizi--are on either side of the Arno. They are connected by a
-covered way, which runs along over the roofs of houses, and crosses
-the jewelers’ bridge, so called because upon it are built the shops of
-all the jewelers in town,--or so it would seem at first sight. At all
-events, here are nothing but jewelers’ shops; small shops, such as I
-imagine the shops of the middle ages to have been. But in the narrow
-windows, and in the unostentatious show-cases, are displayed most
-exquisite workmanship in Florentine mosaic, in turquoise, in malakite,
-exquisite as to the quality of the mosaic and the character of the
-designs in which the earrings, brooches, bracelets, were made up. As a
-rule, however, the gold-work was inferior, and the settings were very
-apt to come apart, and the pins to break and bend, after a very short
-wear.
-
-Sauntering across this bridge, one passes, on his way to the Uffizi,
-various shops in narrow streets, where the silks of Florentine
-manufacture are displayed. Such pretty silks, dear girls, and so cheap!
-For a mere song you may go dressed like the butterflies, in Florence,
-clad in bright, sheeny raiment, spun by native worms out of native
-mulberry leaves. Equally cheap are the cameos, and the coral, that are
-brought here from neighboring Naples, and the turquoises, imported
-directly from the Eastern market, and the mosaics, inlaid of precious
-stones in Florence herself.
-
-So we come out upon the Piazza, or Square, of the Uffizi. The Uffizi
-Palace itself is of irregular form, and inclosed by _loggiae_, or
-covered colonnades. In front of the palace stands the David of Michael
-Angelo, in its strong beauty. Michael Angelo said of this that “the
-only test for a statue is the light of a public square.” To this test
-the David has been subjected for over three hundred years, and still,
-in the searching light of day, stand revealed the courage and the
-faith and the strength of the young man who went forth to do battle
-with the giant, “In the name of the Lord of Hosts, the God of the
-armies of Israel.” And who shall say to how many of us Michael Angelo
-does not preach, across the centuries, a sermon in stone, as we stand
-before his David?--as we recall what Giants of Doubt, of Passion, of
-Pride, we, too, are called upon to battle with in our day?
-
-In a square portico, or _loggia_, giving upon the Piazza, is a statue
-of Perseus, another slayer of monsters, or, rather, a slayer of
-monsters in another realm. It was this Perseus to whom Pallas gave a
-mirror-shield of burnished brass, whom Mercury armed with an adamantine
-scythe, giving him also wings on his feet. It was this Perseus who slew
-the Gorgon Princess Medusa. In the statue, the fatal head of Medusa,
-with its stony stare, is held aloft by the warrior, who is trampling
-upon the headless trunk. This head had, in death as in life, the power
-of turning many men to stone, and was thus made use of by Perseus
-against other enemies of his. The subject of the stony-eyed Gorgon
-possessed, apparently, a curious fascination for artists. There is a
-famous head painted on wood by Leonardo da Vinci, besides this statue
-by Benvenuto Cellini, in the Uffizi.
-
-How, as a child, I used to puzzle over the strange fable in both statue
-and picture! But, since then, I have had experience of Gorgon natures
-in real life; natures that chilled and repressed, stupefied all with
-whom they came in contact; and I wonder less at the fable, and I pass
-the word on to you, that you may know, when unsympathetic surroundings
-chill your heart and blunt your feelings, and subdue your better self,
-that you are being haunted by Da Vinci’s very Medusa, by Gellini’s very
-Medusa, snaky locks, fixed eyes, impassive deadness.
-
-[Illustration: MICHAEL ANGELO IN HIS STUDIO.]
-
-Into the great Uffizi Palace: up the wide marble stairway, into the
-long gallery that opens into the immense suite of rooms hung with
-pictures; the gallery hung with pictures, too, and set with statues.
-
-How I wish I could make you see with my eyes! How I wish I could be
-to you something more than a mere traveler, telling what _I_ have
-seen! That long corridor, windows on one side, statues and pictures
-on the other, always seems to me like a nursery for love of art. At
-the far end are the quaint pictures of Giotto and Cimabue. Then the
-reverent, religious paintings of Fra Angelico. Oh, those sweet-faced,
-golden-haired angels! Oh, the glimpse into the land seen by faith,
-inhabited by shining ones! Oh, the radiance of those pictures! The gold
-back-grounds, the bright faces, the happy effect of them! The artists
-_believed_ them with all their souls, as Ruskin has said; so they
-painted pictures which recall the refrain of Bernard de Cluny’s Rhyme
-of the Celestial Country. Presently pictures by Perugino, Raphael’s
-master, and--quite at the other end of the gallery--the portrait of
-Raphael, painted by himself. This picture is on an easel, and stands
-apart. Are you familiar with Raphael’s beautiful, calm, _young_ face?
-It is a face which has passed into a proverb for beauty and serenity.
-A velvet cap is pushed off the pure brow; the hair is long and waving;
-the eyes are large and dark and abstracted. I always stood before this
-picture as before a shrine.
-
-All the way down the gallery are statues and busts. There are the
-Roman emperors, far more familiar to me through their counterfeit
-presentments than through the pages of history. Augustus, Diocletian,
-Trajan: to us girls they were studies in hair-dressing, if in nothing
-else. Some of them with flowing locks, some with close, short curls,
-some with hair parted in the middle and laid in long, smooth curls,
-like a woman. Of such was Heliogabulus, and of such was Vitellius.
-
-One morning--soon after we came to Florence--we started off up on a
-quest--through the Uffizi--Millie, Eva and I, and our elders. The
-object of our quest was no less a goddess than she called of the Medici.
-
-I remember that we wandered down the long gallery I have described, and
-through room after room. It was the fancy of our mamma, and the uncle
-who was taking care of us all, to find their way about for themselves.
-For instance: if we had been told that a certain picture, by a certain
-master, was to be found in a certain palace, we roamed in and out
-around the other pictures until _the_ picture _revealed itself_ to
-us. It was surprising how seldom we were deceived in this method
-of ours. We would pass by dozens of pictures by inferior artists,
-completely unmoved; then, suddenly, a thrilling vision of beauty would
-glow upon us, and we would acknowledge ourselves to be in a royal
-presence-chamber.
-
-[Illustration]
-
-Such a presence-chamber is the Tribune in the Uffizi palace. We came
-upon many marble Venuses before we arrived in this Tribune, a large,
-octagon room, with a domed ceiling, blue, flecked with gold stars; but
-we passed them all by--until finally we entered the reverent stillness
-which is kept about the Venus of Venuses. We recognized her at once.
-There she stood, in that silent room, the light subdued to a judicious
-mellowness--beautiful with the fresh, smiling beauty of perpetual
-youth; beautiful with the same beauty that gladdened the heart of the
-Greek artist who carved her, hundreds of years ago; so many hundreds of
-years that the marble has, in consequence, the rich cream-color of old
-ivory.
-
-In this same Tribune hangs the portrait of a beautiful young woman,
-called the Fornarina. Of her only this is known, that she was the
-beloved of Raphael, and that she was the daughter of a baker in
-Rome. Fornarina means little bakeress, or, perhaps _we_ should say,
-baker-girl. But _this_ Fornarina might be a princess. An “ox-eyed Juno”
-princess, dark and glowing, with a serene composure about her that one
-remembers as her most striking characteristic.
-
-Raphael’s lady-love. Millie and I knew more about her than was ever
-written in books. Not reliable gossip--gossip of our own invention, but
-gossip that delighted our hearts.
-
-Other pictures by Raphael hang here, too. How distinctly I recall them.
-How vivid are all the works of this great painter! The critics say that
-one who excelled in so many things, excelled also in _expression_. Yes.
-It is this which gives to his pictures the distinctness of photographs
-from life. They are dramatic. They take you at once into the spirit
-of the scene represented. They are full of soul, and herein lies the
-great difference between Raphael’s works and those of other schools,
-the Venetian, for instance. The painters of Venice aimed at effects of
-color; Raphael used color only in order to express a loftier thought.
-
-Are you tired of the Uffizi? Come with me, for a few minutes, before we
-go, into the Hall of Niobe. Words fail me to relate with what mingled
-emotions of sympathy, distress and delight we children used to haunt
-this hall, and examine each sculptured form in turn. The story goes
-that Niobe incurred the displeasure of Diana and Apollo, who wreaked
-their vengeance upon the mother by killing her fourteen children.
-At the head of the hall stands Niobe, convulsed with grief, vainly
-imploring the angry brother and sister to show compassion, and at the
-same time protecting the youngest child, who is clinging to her. But
-we feel that both intercession and protection will be in vain. On
-the other side of the hall are her sons and daughters. Some already
-pierced with arrows, stiff in death; some in the attitude of flight,
-some staggering to the ground. It is an easy matter for the imagination
-to picture the supreme moment when, bereft of all her children, the
-mother’s heart breaks, and she is turned to stone. The legend relates
-that that stone wept tears. Nor was it a difficult matter for me to
-take this on faith. What is more, many is the time I have planted
-myself before the very marble Niobe in the Uffizi, firmly expecting to
-see the tears flow down her cheeks.
-
-So we come out upon the streets of Florence again. Fair Florence, the
-narrow Arno dividing her, the purple Appennines shutting her in the
-Arno’s fertile valley. Flower-women stop us on the streets, and offer
-us flowers. Flower-women who are not as pretty as they are wont to be
-at fancy-dress parties; they are apt to be heavy and middle-aged, in
-fact, one of them, the handsomest of the band, has a scar on her face,
-and a tinge of romance attached to her name. It is whispered about
-that her lover’s dagger inflicted the scar, in a fit of jealousy. Once
-I myself saw a look flash into her eyes, when something was said to
-offend her by a passer-by on the street, which suggested the idea that
-she might have used her dagger in return. It was the look of a tiger
-aroused. And after that I never quite lost sight of the smothered fire
-in those black eyes of hers.
-
-[Illustration: LA FORNARINA OF THE UFFIZI, AT FLORENCE.]
-
-I used to wonder why I saw so few pretty faces in Florence. Moreover,
-how lovely the American ladies always looked in contrast with the
-swarthy, heavy Tuscan women. As a rule, that is. Of course, there were
-plain Americans and handsome Tuscans; but our countrywomen certainly
-bear off the palm for delicacy of feature and coloring. Still, the
-Tuscan peasant-girls make a fine show, with their broad flats of
-Leghorn straw; and when they are married they are invariably adorned
-with strings of Roman pearls about their necks. So many rows of pearls
-counts for so much worldly wealth.
-
-I stroll on, stopping to look in at the picture stores, or coming to an
-enraptured pause before a cellar-way piled up with rare and fragrant
-flowers, such as one sees seldom out of Florence--the City of Flowers.
-
-
-
-
-A CHILD IN FLORENCE.
-
-BY K. R. L.
-
-PART III.
-
-
-One summer we lived in a villa a short distance outside the gates
-of Florence. For Florence had gates in those days, and was a walled
-city, kept by Austrian sentinels. That was the time of the Austrian
-occupation. Since then, Solferino and Magenta have been fought, and
-the treaty of Villafranca has been signed, and now, “Italy’s one, from
-mountain to sea!”--
-
-  “King Victor has Italy’s crown on his head,
-  And his flag takes all heaven with its white, green and red.”
-
-But then the Florentines bowed their necks under a hated foreign yoke,
-scowling when they dared at a retreating “maledetto Tedesco” (cursed
-German).
-
-The phrase “white, green and red” recalls to me the fire-balloons we
-used to send up from our villa garden, on the summer nights of long
-ago. We had, for our Italian tutor, an enthusiastic patriot, who had
-fought in the Italian ranks in ’48, and who was looking forward to
-shouldering a musket soon again. It afforded him intense gratification
-to send the national colors floating out over Florence. Our villa was
-built on a hill-side, commanding a fine view of the Val d’Arno, and
-of the City of Flowers herself, domed, campaniled, spired. The longer
-the voyages made by our balloons, the higher rose the spirits of our
-Signor Vicenzo. He regarded these airy nothings, made by his own hands,
-of tissue paper and alcohol, as omens of good or ill to his beloved
-country.
-
-I suppose he was a fair type of his countrymen intensely dramatic,
-with a native facility of expression. One notices this facility
-of expression among all classes. The Italians have an eloquent
-sign-language of their own, in which they are as proficient as in
-the language of spoken words. It is charming to see two neighbors
-communicating with each other across the street, without uttering
-a syllable, by the means of animated gestures. It seems a natural
-sequence that they should be a people of artists.
-
-Such long rambles as my sisters and I and our maid Assunta took,
-starting from the villa! Assunta was the daughter of a neighboring
-countryman of the better sort, who cultivated a grape vineyard and an
-olive field, besides keeping a dairy. We had a way of happening by in
-the evening in time for a glass of warm milk. Assunta’s mother supplied
-our table with milk and butter daily, moreover; butter made into tiny
-pats and done up daintily in grape leaves, never salted, by the way;
-milk put up in flasks cased in straw, such as are also used for the
-native wine. Was it the unfailing appetite of childhood, or was that
-milk and butter really superior to any I have ever tasted since? What
-charming breakfasts recur to me! _Semele_, as we called our baker’s
-rolls; a golden circle of butter on its own leaf; great figs bursting
-with juicy sweetness; milk.
-
-How good those figs used to taste for lunch, too, when we would pay a
-few _crazis_ for the privilege of helping ourselves to them off the
-fig-trees in some _podere_ (orchard, vineyard), inclosed in its own
-stone wall, on which scarlet poppies waved in the golden sunlight,
-beneath the blue, blue skies. Am I waxing descriptive and dull?
-Well, dear girls, I wish you could have shared those days with me.
-Roaming about those hill-sides, my sisters and I peopled them with the
-creatures of our own imaginations, as well as those of other people’s
-imaginations, to say nothing of veritable historical characters. We
-read and re-read Roger’s _Italy_. Do you know that enchanting book? Can
-you say by heart, as Millie, Eva and I could, “Ginevra,” and “Luigi,”
-and “The Brides of Venice”? I wonder if I should like that poetry now?
-I _loved_ it then. Also, I date my knowledge of Byron to that same
-epoch. We children devoured the descriptions in “Childe Harold,” and
-absorbed “The Two Foscari,” which otherwise we would perhaps have never
-read. Byron was the poet of our fathers and mothers; but in these early
-days dramatic and narrative poetry was more intelligible than the
-mysticism of Tennyson and the Brownings, so enchanting to me now.
-
-[Illustration: A CHRISTMAS TREE FESTIVAL.--]
-
-One evening, some friends who occupied a neighboring villa invited
-mamma to be present at the reading of a manuscript poem by an American
-poet, Buchanan Read. I was permitted to go, too, and was fully alive to
-the dignity of the occasion. Mr. Read was making a reputation rapidly;
-there was no telling what might be in store for him. The generous
-hand of brother artists in Florence all cheered him on his way, and
-accorded to him precisely that kind of sympathetic encouragement which
-his peculiar nature required. The group of interested, friendly faces
-in the _salon_ at Villa Allori rises up before me as I write, on the
-evening when Mr. Read, occupying a central position, read aloud, in his
-charming, trained voice.
-
-I remember that, in the pauses of the reading, Mr. Powers, who was
-present, amused one or two children about him by drawing odd little
-caricatures on a stray bit of note paper, which is, by the way, still
-in my possession. Doubtless Mr. Powers’ reputation rests upon his
-statues, not his caricatures; yet these particular ones have an immense
-value for me, dashed off with a twinkle in the artist’s beautiful dark
-eyes.
-
-There was also present on this occasion a beautiful young lady, for
-whom Mr. Read had just written some birthday verses, which he read to
-us, after having completed the reading of the larger manuscript. Those
-birthday verses have haunted me ever since, and this, although I cannot
-recall a word of the more ambitious poem.
-
-Mr. Powers had lived for so many years in Florence that he was by
-right of that, if by no other right, the patriarch of the American
-colony there. He and his large family were most intensely American,
-in spite of their long expatriation. His was emphatically an American
-_home_, as completely so as though the Arno and the Appenines had been,
-instead, the Mississippi and the Alleghanies. This was no doubt due
-to the fact that Mrs. Powers was preëminently an American wife and
-mother, large-hearted and warm-hearted. She never forgot the household
-traditions of her youth. She baked mince-pies and pumpkin-pies at
-Christmas and Thanksgiving, and dispensed these bounties to her
-countrymen with a lavish hand. Then, too, the Powers lived in a
-_house_, and not in an _apartment_, or, as we say, on a flat. The
-children ran up and down-stairs, and in and out their own yard, which
-lay between the dwelling-house and the studio, just as American
-children do. And in this genial, wholesome home an artist grew up in
-the second generation. A son of Mr. Powers is now making name and fame
-for himself in his father’s profession.
-
-It has been said that the beautiful face of the eldest daughter of this
-family is suggested in her father’s “Greek Slave.” I looked up to her
-then with the respect which a child feels for an elder girl, “a young
-lady in society.” I can appreciate now and admire, even more than I did
-then, the extreme simplicity and unconsciousness which so well accorded
-with her grand, classic beauty. She was the good fairy at a Christmas
-Tree Festival, to which all the American girls and boys in Florence
-were bidden, on the twenty-fifth of December. We were all presented
-with most exquisitely made _bonbonnieres_, chiefly of home manufacture.
-We were feasted on doughnuts which brought tears to some of our eyes;
-dear American doughnuts, that _might_ have been fried in the land
-of the free. We had French candy _ad libitum_; but there was also on
-exhibition a pound or so of genuine American stick candy, such as we
-see by the bushel in this country, and which had been brought over from
-the United States by a friend recently arrived, at Mrs. Powers’ special
-request We examined this stick candy with patriotic enthusiasm. We ate
-little bits of it, and thought it infinitely better than our candied
-fruits and chocolate creams. Doubtless this little incident here
-recalled will account for the fact that I always associate peppermint
-stick candy with the flag of the Union. It is an unfortunate caprice
-of mind; but, nevertheless, the national stripes always rise before me
-when I see these red and white sticks.
-
-I am inclined to the belief that exiles make the best patriots. We
-American children stood up fiercely for our own native land, whenever
-the question as to national superiority arose between ourselves and
-English, French, or Italian children,--especially the English. With
-these we fought the Revolutionary war all over again, hotly, if
-injudiciously. And I am confident that we had a personal and individual
-sense of superiority over them. No doubt we were endowed, even at that
-early age, with the proverbial national conceit. Some one had told me
-that every American was a sovereign, and that I was consequently a
-princess in my own right. This became a conviction with me, and greatly
-increased my self-importance. How glorious to be the citizen of a
-country of such magnificent gifts of citizenship!
-
-But to return to Mr. Powers. His statue of California was on exhibition
-at this time. This is, to my mind, the most noble and impressive of
-his works. The strong, resolute face, of classic outlines, and of the
-sterner type of beauty, bears a distinct resemblance to the sculptor’s
-second daughter, although by no means a portrait. It has been told me
-that one of the fathers of our American church, traveling in Italy,
-suggested an important alteration in this statue. California originally
-carried in her hand a bar, supposed to represent a bar of solid gold.
-The idea occurred to the bishop that were this smooth bar--which might
-mean anything--made to represent a nugget of gold in the rough, the
-point of the story would be far more effectively told; and on this idea
-the bishop spoke. The sculptor was impressed directly, and with all the
-unaffected simplicity of real genius he thanked his critic for the
-hint. California now displays her symbolic nugget; and, moreover, about
-her head is designed a fillet of bits of ore in the rough.
-
-The America of Powers is another impressive and beautiful female form.
-A vision of the sculptor comes before my eyes, standing in front of
-this statue, and talking it over with a party of visitors. Such a
-beautiful, simple-mannered man--with his mild dark eyes and serene
-face! He wore the usual blouse and linen apron, and the cap of the
-sculptor. He held his chisel in his hand as he conversed. Some of
-his audience did not agree with him in the peculiar political views
-he held. But Mr. Powers would not argue, and what need? Had he not
-preached his sermon in stone and eloquently!
-
-
-[Illustration:]
-
-  The wisest Child in the village in school
-  Was walking out in the evening cool
-  When she spied an Owl in a tulip-tree,
-  So a civil “Good evening, sir” said she,
-  Bu it gave her a shock (as it might give you)
-  When he solemnly answered “To wit:--to who?”
-
-  “Why, to you, to be sure!” said the little maid:
-  “But you’ve made a mistake, sir, I am afraid.
-  I don’t know what you mean by ‘to wit’
-  But objective is ‘whom’, I am sure of it.
-  The story-books say you’re a very wise fowl,
-  But that was a blunder, Mr Owl!”
-
-
-
-
-[Illustration]
-
-SEEING THE POPE.
-
-BY MRS. ALFRED MACY.
-
-
-It is only the young people of America who, in this age of the world,
-have not been to Europe; therefore to them and for them I have written
-down, in journal form, a few incidents of travel; among them, a
-brief account of an evening spent with La Baronessa Von Stein, and a
-presentation to the Pope.
-
-_Wednesday._ This evening we have spent, by invitation, with the
-Baroness Von Stein, widow of Baron Von Stein of Germany. The Baroness,
-a German by birth, passed much of her youth in Poland. Skilled as a
-horsewoman, she often joined her father in rural pastimes, shooting,
-hunting etc. Being perfectly well, and of great mind, she acquired, as
-do all the noble women of Europe, a thorough knowledge of the ancient
-classics in their originals; also a familiarity with nearly every
-spoken language of the Old and New World. Well comparing with Margaret,
-Queen of Navarre in fluency of tongue, she readily changes from Italian
-to French, from French to Spanish, quotes from Buckle, Draper, etc.,
-in English, is quite at home on German philosophy, notwithstanding her
-devotion to the Catholic Church. A singularly attractive old lady is
-she now; rather masculine in manner, exceedingly so, in mind; a fine
-painter in oil to whom the Pope has sat, in person, for his portrait.
-We have seen the likeness. It is pronounced perfect. She is very
-anxious for us to see his Holiness, and we certainly shall not leave
-Rome without so doing. The Baroness has an autograph note from Pio
-Nono, which is a rare possession. This she displayed with far more
-pride than was apparent upon showing her own handiwork. When the Holy
-Father sat to her, in order to get the true expression, conversation
-was necessary and she repeated, with much satisfaction, snatches
-therefrom, which were of the brightest nature. However learned _he_ may
-be, in the Baroness Von Stein he meets no inferior.
-
-As we entered her room, she was smoking: she begged pardon, but
-continued the performance.
-
-The cigar was a cigar, no cigarette, no white-coated article, but a
-long, large, brown Havana, such as gentlemen in our own country use.
-
-“You will find no difficulty,” said she, between her whiffs, “in seeing
-‘Il Papa,’ and then you will say how good is his picture.”
-
-During a part of our interview, there was present a sister of a
-“Secretario Generalissimo to the Pope,” who told us the manner in which
-the Popeship will be filled--she talked only in Italian, but I give a
-literal translation. “The new Pope is approved by the present Pio Nono.
-His name is written upon paper by the present Pope and sealed. The
-document is seen by no one, till after the death of ‘Il Papa,’ when it
-is opened, as a will, by the proper power. Unlike a will, it can not be
-disputed.”
-
-Pio Nono certainly had his election in a far different way, according
-to the statements of the Roman Exiles of that day.
-
-As the life of his Majesty hangs upon eternity, the matter of a
-successor will soon be decided. “Antonelli gone, where will it fall!”
-said I, but at once perceived that I was trespassing and the subject
-was speedily changed.
-
-We left the Baronessa, intent upon one thing, viz., a presentation to
-the Pope, as soon as practical. Our Consul being no longer accredited
-to this power, but to Victor Emanuel, we must apply elsewhere.
-
-_Thursday._ Started early this morning, from my residence corner
-of Bacca di Leone and Via di Lapa (doubtful protectors), for the
-American College and Father Chatard, in order to get a “permit” to
-the Monday Reception at the Vatican. On my way (and those who know
-Rome as well as we do will know how much on the way) I took, as I do
-upon all occasions, the Roman and Trajan forums, always walking when
-practicable; by the above means, I am likely to become very familiar
-with these beautiful views. They are so fascinating that I can not
-begin any day’s work without taking these first. The Trajan is my
-favorite. It may not be uninteresting to mention here that, on my
-circuitous stroll to the said College, I saw, and halted the better to
-see, one of those picturesque groups of Contadini and Contadine who
-frequent the towns of Italy. There were, first the parents, dressed in
-the fantastic garb of their class of peasantry, i.e., the mother with
-the long double pads, one scarlet and one white, hanging over her head
-and neck, while the father wore a gay slouched hat; then three girls,
-severally garbed in short pink dress, blue apron embroidered with every
-conceivable color simple and combined, yellow handkerchief thrown over
-the chest, long earrings, heavy braids, bare-footed or in fancifully
-knit shoes.
-
-[Illustration: ROMAN CONTADINO.]
-
-Two boys in equally remarkable attire, and a baby that looked like a
-butterfly, completed the domestic circle. They did not seem to mind my
-gaze. The father continued his smoking, the mother her knitting, the
-girls their hooking, the boys their listless lounging, and the baby its
-play in the dust. There was a charm in the scene. One sight however
-(to be sure mine was an extended opportunity) is sufficient. A few
-steps beyond this gathering, I found photographs colored to represent
-these vagrants, and at one store pictures of the very individuals--I
-purchased specimens to take to America, a novelty the other side of the
-Atlantic.
-
-After an hour or two, I reached the American College, was met by the
-students who very politely directed me to the Concièrge, and my name
-was taken to the learned Father. The students all wore the long robe,
-though speaking English.
-
-Being a Quaker by birth, therefore educated to respect every man’s
-religion, and to believe that every man respects mine, nevertheless I
-felt misgivings incumbent upon the meeting of extremes. I was ushered
-into a large drawing-room and was examining the pictures, which
-generally tell the character of the owner, when Mr. Chatard entered.
-As he asked me to be seated, I thought, as some one has expressed
-it before me, “the whole world over, there are but two kinds of
-people,--‘man and woman.’”
-
-The youth of this college may thank their stars that America has given
-them one of her most learned and worthy sons, though the sect to which
-his mother once belonged must deplore his loss.
-
-In conversation with this Reverend gentleman, I obtained the
-requirements necessary to an introduction to the Pope, and was a
-little surprised that he should question my willingness to conform to
-the same. It was however, explained. He had been much embarrassed by
-the demeanor of some of the American women. Seeking the privilege of
-meeting the Pope in his own palace, where common courtesy and etiquette
-naturally demand a deference to the Lord of the Manor, yet these
-ladies, having previously guaranteed a compliance with the laws of
-ceremony, after gaining admission refused to obey them.
-
-Seeing the Pope was not, to me, a religious service and is not
-generally so considered.
-
-My only fear was that my plain manners in their brusqueness, would have
-the appearance of “omission.”
-
-But the requirements are simple. Bending the knee, as a physical
-performance, was a source of anxiety. I at once called to mind the
-great difficulty which, as a young girl, I had in the play:
-
-  “If I _had_ as many wives
-   As the stars in the skies,” etc.
-
-Notwithstanding the person who had to kneel in the game had a large
-cushion to throw before her to receive the fall, I always shook the
-house from the foundations when I went down. I can hear the pendants
-now, of a chandelier in a certain frame house in my native town ring
-out my weight, as I flung the cushion in front of a boy that knew
-“he was not the one,” and took to my knees. True, the Vatican is not
-shaky in its underpinnnings, and faithful practice upon the floor of
-my apartment in Bocca di Leone, I thought, would be productive of some
-good. Quickly running through this train of reflection, and finally
-trusting that the gathering would not be disturbed by any marked
-awkwardness, I returned home to await the tidings.
-
-_Monday Evening._ Have seen Pio Nono--have committed no enormity.
-
-According to directions, in black dress, black veil, _à la_ Spanish
-lady, ungloved hands (what an appearance at a Presidential reception!)
-we were attired. Took a carriage for the Vatican. Before we left home
-the padrona viewed us, pronounced us all right, and earnestly sought
-the privilege of selecting a coach for us. She had an eye to style. Is
-it possible that she did not give us credit for the same “strength,”
-and we traveling Americans? It is to be confessed that the horses were
-less like donkeys than otherwise might have been. Trying the knee the
-last thing before leaving the house, there was certainly reason for
-encouragement, though still a lingering humility.
-
-Our ride was subdued, but we reached St. Peter’s, passed through the
-elegant halls of the Pope’s Palace, surpassed only by those of the
-Pitti at Florence in their gold and fresco, and were ushered into the
-reception room of Pio Nono.
-
-This apartment, long and narrow, seemed more like a corridor than a
-hall. Its beauties are described in various guide books, so that “they
-who read can see.”
-
-We were the only Protestants. The other ladies were laden with
-magnificent rosaries, pictures, toys, ribbons, etc., for the Holy
-Father’s blessing. Even I purchased one of the first, viz., a rosary,
-to undergo the same ceremony, as a gift to a much-loved servant girl at
-home.
-
-We sat here many minutes in quiet (inwardly longing to try the fall.)
-At length the Pope was led in. We forgot our trials. A countenance so
-benign, beaming with goodness, spread a cheer throughout the assembly.
-We took the floor naturally and involuntarily. Except in dress, he
-might have been any old patriarch. The white robe, long and plain, gave
-him rather the appearance of a matriarch.
-
-It chanced that his Holiness passed first up the right side of the
-hall. We sat _vis à vis_, so that we had the benefit of all that he
-said before we came in turn. While addressing the right, who continue
-on their knees, the left rise. As he turns to the latter they again
-kneel, whereas those opposite change from this posture to the standing.
-
-The Pope talked now in French, now in Italian mostly in the former. As
-he approached our party, we were introduced merely as Americans, but
-our religion was stamped upon our brows. Turning kindly to my young
-daughter, who wore, as an ornament, a chain and cross, he said, as
-if quite sure of the fact, “_You_ can wear your cross outside, as an
-ornament; I am obliged to wear mine inside as a cross;” whereupon, with
-a smile, he drew this emblem from his wide ribbon sash, showing her a
-most elegant massive cross of gold and diamonds, probably the most
-valuable one in the world. As he replaced this mark of devotion, his
-countenance expressing a recognition of our Protestantism, perhaps a
-pity for our future, placing his hand upon our heads, he passed on. The
-blessing of a good old man, whatever his faith, can injure no one, and
-may not be without its efficacy, even though it rest upon a disciple of
-George Fox.
-
-I shall never cease to be glad that I have seen Pio Nono.
-
-[Illustration]
-
-
-
-
-FAYETTE’S RIDE.
-
-BY CLARA F. GUERNSEY.
-
-
-“Hello, girls! I say, hello!”
-
-This polite salutation was addressed to two young girls who were
-standing at the parsonage gate in the little village of Valery’s
-Corners. The taller of the two colored with vexation, and looked back
-to the house as though she hoped no one had seen or heard.
-
-The second answered in a clear, rather peculiar voice, “How do you do,
-Carlos?”
-
-“I say,” returned Carlos, “I was up to your place, and seen your folks
-to-day.”
-
-“I hope they were all well,” said the girl who had spoken before, while
-the other took no notice of Carlos whatever.
-
-“Well, no, they wasn’t, jest. I thought I’d tell you--”
-
-“O, what is it?” cried Fayette Locey, running out to the wagon, while
-her companion followed more slowly, looking rather annoyed than anxious.
-
-“O, it ain’t nothing to be scared at, only Mr. Ford and Dick ain’t to
-home. They’ve gone over to the cattle sale at Elmira, and young Mis’
-Ford she’s there alone, with only your aunt, and the hired man, and the
-baby.”
-
-“Is the baby sick?” asked Fayette, troubled.
-
-“No, not the baby.”
-
-“Will you be good enough to tell us at once what _is_ the matter?” said
-Helen Ford, speaking for the first time with a sort of cold irritation
-and a certain dignity which Carlos, though it rather awed him, resented
-as “stuck up.”
-
-“Ye see,” said Carlos, letting the reins hang loose over the backs of
-the two old farm horses, “I was a-going past your house this morning,
-and I knew you was down here, and I thought your folks might have
-something to send.”
-
-“You were very kind,” said Fayette; but Helen made no sign.
-
-“I see young Mis’ Ford, and she said the old lady was kind of ailin’,
-and the men folks being away, and no one but Hiram, she felt kind of
-lonesome.”
-
-“Did she send you for us?” asked Helen.
-
-“No, not jest. She said the old lady might be going to have one of her
-bad spells, and as I was coming down to the corners I might tell you,
-and you could act your judgment, though she didn’t want to disappoint
-you of your visit. I could see she was consid’rable anxious.”
-
-“Are you going back soon?” asked Fayette.
-
-“’Bout half an hour or so. Tell ye what. I’ll call when I’ve done my
-arrands, and then you’ll have your minds made up.”
-
-“O, thank you, Carlos,” said Fayette, gratefully. “I wish you would.”
-
-Helen said nothing; but as they walked back to the house, she looked
-perplexed and annoyed. “So provoking of Sue,” she broke out at last.
-“If there was anything really the matter, why couldn’t she send a note?
-But she is so nervous and fanciful.”
-
-“Sue’s not very strong, and you know Hiram is no one to depend upon. I
-hope Mrs. Allison and Eleanor will be back before we go.”
-
-“So you are going?” said Helen, as if the idea vexed her.
-
-“Why, Helen, I think one of us should go. If aunt had such an attack as
-she had in the winter, what could Sue do?”
-
-“I dare say it is only her fancy,” said Helen. “But you are as ready to
-fancy things as she is, Fayette. If there were any reason for anxiety,”
-she continued in the even tones which had contributed to establish
-Helen Ford’s character as a “superior girl,”--“If there were any reason
-for anxiety, don’t you suppose I should be as anxious about my mother
-as you can be, who never saw her till you came to live with us three
-months ago?”
-
-There was a covert sting in these words which Fayette felt and
-resented, but she held her tongue.
-
-“Then I don’t want to miss this lecture,” Helen resumed. “It is the
-last of the set, and I feel it my duty to improve every opportunity
-that is offered me.”
-
-Fayette slightly raised her black eyebrows. She knew her cousin’s way
-of squaring her duty with her inclination.
-
-“I presume, too, that the boy has quite exaggerated the case. Persons
-of that class always like to make a sensation, and I dare say Sue only
-meant that mother had a little cold. She has such a habit of talking to
-all sorts of people as if they were her equals.”
-
-“Yes, I think Sue does rather look upon human beings as if they were
-her fellow-creatures,” said Fayette.
-
-“I don’t profess to understand sarcasm,” said Helen, setting her rather
-thin lips very straight. “Papa and Dick will be at home to-morrow,
-and one night can make no very great difference to Sue. It would be a
-serious disadvantage to me to lose this lecture. I have the notes of
-the whole set, and this is the last, and I should never be satisfied to
-leave them in that unfinished state.”
-
-“And suppose you were not satisfied? What then?” said Fayette.
-
-For a moment Helen had an odd sensation, as though some one had
-suddenly lifted a curtain and given her a glimpse of an unsuspected
-near and unpleasing region; but the feeling passed, and left behind it
-a sense of vexation with her cousin.
-
-“Persons who do not care for intellectual pleasures can never
-understand what they are to others,” said Helen, with a superior and
-pitying smile, which provoked Fayette. “As the professor said last
-night, it is the first duty of every one to develop his or her nature
-to its highest capacities, and to seize every opportunity for mental
-enlargement.”
-
-“Fiddlesticks!” thought the irreverent Fayette; but she did not say it,
-and that at least was something.
-
-“Then it would not be polite to the Allisons to go off in this way, and
-when company is coming to tea, too. Mr. Allison is gone, and the ladies
-won’t be home till nearly tea time. How it would look to go off!”
-
-“We could leave a message; and, Helen, if Sue were nervous and
-fanciful,--and I don’t think she is,--it would only be one more reason
-for not leaving her alone. I shall go,” concluded Fayette, with sudden
-decision.
-
-“You will do as you please, of course,” said Helen, coldly, but
-secretly not ill pleased. “But it will look very strange.”
-
-“I can’t help it. You can tell them all how it was;” and Fayette ran up
-stairs to pack up her things.
-
-She had hardly done so when Carlos came back. “I wish you joy of your
-companion,” said Helen to her cousin, with something very like a sneer.
-
-“I might easily have a worse one,” said Fayette, who liked the big,
-simple young fellow. “One of us is enough to go, and it may as well be
-I as you. I hope you’ll enjoy the evening. Remember me to Miss Fenton
-and the others.”
-
-It was with a little pang that Fayette spoke. She had been quite as
-much interested in the lectures as her cousin, and she had found
-herself very much at home with the Misses Fenton, the granddaughters of
-Mrs. Lyndon, at the Hickories.
-
-“Well, of course one is enough, and more than enough,” said Helen; “but
-I suppose now you have alarmed yourself so, you will not be satisfied
-to stay here. I shall come home with Mr. Allison Sunday. Good-bye.”
-
-Helen went back to the house, and laid out her dress for the evening.
-
-The party from the Hickories, and the stray professor, who had given
-four lectures on geology in Valery’s Corners, were coming to tea at the
-Parsonage.
-
-Helen had met the professor before, and had been complimented on the
-interest she displayed in science, and she felt, as she said, that
-she could not be satisfied without putting down the notes of the last
-lecture.
-
-Helen was an intellectual girl--so said her teachers, and so she
-believed. She liked to acquire facts, and rules, and classifications,
-and dates, and range them all nicely away in her mind, as she put her
-cuffs, and collars, and laces, and ribbons in her boxes; as she saved
-odds and ends of silk and linen, and put them into labeled bags.
-
-As it pleased her to look over her drawers, and count up her
-possessions, so she liked to review her stock of knowledge gained from
-text-books, and say, “All this is _mine_.”
-
-She told Mrs. Allison that her sister-in-law had sent a message by
-Carlos, and that Fayette had gone home.
-
-“Sue is a little nervous sometimes,” said Helen, in her most superior
-manner.
-
-Helen’s evening was very successful. She was invited to the Hickories
-by Mrs. Lyndon. She talked to the professor. She took her notes, but
-some way, even when she had neatly copied out the names of all the
-saurians, she did not feel as well “satisfied” as she had expected.
-
-It was not till between seven and eight that evening that Carlos set
-Fayette down at her uncle’s gate.
-
-The roads were rough, and they had been a long time coming the nine
-miles. Carlos lived at Scrub Hollow, a very forlorn hamlet, three miles
-further away.
-
-It was a wild March night, with a loud-sounding wind rushing through
-the upper air. Fayette, as she stood at the gate a moment, and looked
-out over the confused mass of rounded, rolling hills that formed the
-dim landscape, felt lonely and half frightened.
-
-Everything was so dim and gray, and seemed so full of mysterious sound!
-The low roar of increasing streams, the multiplied whisper and rustle
-of the woods, made the world seem something different from the ordinary
-daylight earth.
-
-She shook off the fancies that crowded upon her, and walked quickly up
-to the house, which stood at some distance from the road--a pile of
-gray buildings, with sharp, many-angled roofs rising against the sky.
-
-A light shone from the “living-room” window.
-
-Fayette opened the door, and was greeted by a cry of joy from young
-Mrs. Ford.
-
-“O, Fayette! I’m so glad it’s you!” and there was an emphasis as, if
-the speaker were rather glad it was not some one else.
-
-“I thought I’d come,” said Fayette, kissing her. “How’s aunt?”
-
-“I think she is pretty sick,” said Sue, lowering her voice. “She’s gone
-to bed.”
-
-“Have you sent Hiram for the doctor?”
-
-“Hiram has gone. I’m all alone. Word came over from Springville, just
-after Carlos was here, that his father had broken his leg, and he had
-to go, of course.”
-
-“But why didn’t you tell him to send Dr. Ward over?”
-
-“Mother wouldn’t let me. You know how she hates to send for a doctor,
-and she thought she’d be better.”
-
-A voice from the next room called to know who was there, and Fayette
-went in.
-
-Mrs. Ford was in bed, her face drawn and pinched. A look of pain
-crossed her features as her niece entered. There was disappointment in
-her voice as she said,--
-
-“Is that you, Fayette?”
-
-“Yes, aunt. I thought I’d come.”
-
-There are women who, in Mrs. Ford’s place, would have been angry with
-the girl for doing what one dearer had left undone; but Mrs. Ford, if
-she had such a feeling, was too just to visit it upon Fayette.
-
-“You are a good child,” she said, with uncommon softness, but with a
-sigh. “Don’t be troubled. I shall get over it by and by.”
-
-But Mrs. Ford did not get over it. The trouble was furious and intense
-neuralgia; not such as young ladies have when they suffer “awfully” in
-the morning, and go to a party at night, but blinding, burning pain,
-reducing the life power every minute, and threatening the heart.
-
-Sue and Fayette tried in vain every remedy in their power. Even Mrs.
-Ford’s favorite panacea of seven different herbs, steeped in spirits
-with pepper and spice, utterly failed.
-
-The patient grew worse and worse, and at midnight it was evident that,
-unless help came speedily, her hours were numbered.
-
-The farm was not on the high road, and their nearest neighbors were two
-old maiden ladies, a mile away, neither of whom could have been of the
-least use.
-
-Scrub Hollow lay three miles to the south. A nurse might have been
-found there, but no physician. Springville, where Dr. Ward lived, was a
-little further off in the opposite direction.
-
-The road to Springville was rough and lonely, and lay over wind-swept
-hill and through dark valley, by woods and swamps; for this portion of
-the southern frontier is even now but thinly settled.
-
-“What shall we do?” said poor Sue, wringing her hands. “What shall we
-do?”
-
-“There’s only one thing to do,” said Fayette, desperately. “I shall go
-for the doctor.”
-
-“O, Fayette! Walk all that way alone!”
-
-“I shall ride Phœbe. I can saddle her myself. Father taught me how. I
-must go, Sue. I can’t let aunt lie here and die, and never try to save
-her. It’s hard to leave you alone, but it won’t take long. Baby hasn’t
-waked up once. What a mercy! Don’t say a word, Sue: I must go.”
-
-“O, Fayette!” cried Sue, helplessly; but she made no further objection,
-and Mrs. Ford had not heard the hurried consultation.
-
-Fayette would give herself no time to think. She was a nervous little
-thing, and she dreaded the long ride through the windy night more than
-she had ever feared anything in her life.
-
-She was not a very daring rider, though at the little frontier post
-where she had passed two years with her parents, her father had taught
-her to manage a horse with reasonable skill, and she had ridden many a
-mile with him over the prairie.
-
-“O, if father were here now!” she said, a sob suddenly rising.
-
-Then she was doubtful about her own power to manage Phœbe, the great
-chestnut mare, the pride of her uncle’s heart, strong, swift, spirited
-creature that she was.
-
-For two years Phœbe had borne away the prize at state and county fairs,
-and the horse-racing world had tempted her owner in vain. Fayette had
-mounted her more than once, and ridden around the yard, and up and down
-the road, but always with some secret fears. She had never dared even
-to try a canter; and now to mount at “mirk midnight,” and go, as fast
-as might be, off into the darkness alone on Phœbe’s back, seemed an
-awful thing to poor Fayette.
-
-She knew that the mare was gentle, and she had often petted her, and
-fed her, and led her to water. She did not much doubt but that Phœbe
-would submit to be saddled and bridled by her hand, but still it was
-with many a misgiving that she put on her hat and jacket. She did not
-take time to find her habit, and, lighting the lantern, went out to the
-barn.
-
-Phœbe was not lying down. Disturbed, perhaps, by the loud-blowing wind,
-she was wide awake; and as Fayette entered with the light, she turned
-her head with a low whinny, as though glad to see a friend.
-
-Fayette went into the stall in fear and trembling; but she loosened
-the halter, and led Phœbe out unresisting.
-
-The mare was so tall, and Fayette was so short, that she was obliged
-to stand up on a box to slip on the bridle; to which Phœbe submitted,
-turning her soft, intelligent eyes on the girl with mild, wondering
-inquiry. The saddle was harder to manage, but Fayette strained at the
-girth till her wrists ached, and hoped all was right.
-
-Some faint encouragement came to her, as she saw how gently the mare
-behaved. “O, Phœbe, darling,” said Fayette, “you will be good--I know
-you will. You are the only one that can help us now.”
-
-Petted Phœbe, used to caresses as a house cat, rubbed her dainty head
-on Fayette’s shoulder, as if to reassure her.
-
-Poor Fayette put up one brief wordless prayer for help and courage, and
-then she led Phœbe out of the stable, mounted her by the aid of the
-horse-block, and rode away into the night.
-
-Sue, watching forlorn, heard the mare’s hoofs beating fainter down the
-road; and relieved that at least Fayette had got off without accident,
-listened till the last sound died away on the wind.
-
-
-CHAPTER II.
-
-It was a wild March night. The wind blew loud and cold, though there
-was in the air a faint breath of spring, and the brooks were coming
-down with fuller currents every hour to swell the Susquehanna. There
-had been heavy rains for the last few days, and the roads were deeply
-gullied, and somewhat dangerous by night.
-
-The wild, white moon, nearly at the full, was plunging swiftly through
-heavy masses of gray cloud, that at times quite obscured her light, and
-the solid shapes of hill and wood, and the sweeping, changing shadows
-were so mingled that it was hard to distinguish what was real earth
-and what was but the effect of cloud and wind-blown moonshine. All the
-twilight world seemed sound and motion.
-
-Phœbe, as well as her rider, perhaps, felt some of the influences of
-the time; for she snorted and turned her head homeward, as if minded
-to return to her warm stable; but she gave way to Fayette’s voice and
-hand, and, striking into a steady pace, picked her way down the steep
-and deeply-furrowed road as soberly as an old cart-horse.
-
-The Ford farm-house lay half way up the side of a high hill, and the
-farm extended into the valley below in pasture and meadow land. Here,
-for a space, was a hard gravel road; and Fayette, yielding to the spur
-of the moment, let Phœbe canter, which she was only too willing to do,
-and was relieved to find how easily she kept her seat, and how gentle
-was the motion.
-
-In a few minutes the bounds of the farm were passed, and Fayette’s
-heart sank low as they drew near the roaring, sounding woods through
-which the road lay. The trees stood up like a black wall, with one
-blacker archway, into which the path ran, and was lost in the darkness
-beyond.
-
-People who have never been allowed to hear the word “ghost,” who know
-nothing of popular superstitions, who are strangers to ballad lore
-and to Walter Scott, will, nevertheless, be often awed and sometimes
-panic-struck by night, and darkness, and wind, and that power of the
-unseen which laughs Mr. Gradgrind himself to scorn.
-
-Fayette, however, had not been properly brought up, according to Mr.
-Gradgrind’s system. She had read all sorts of wild tales, and listened
-to them from the lips of a Scotch nurse. She knew many a ballad, and
-many a bit of folk lore, and old paganism,--pleasant enough puppets for
-imagination to play with under the sunshine, but which now rose up in a
-grim life-likeness quite too real.
-
-The owls began to call from the shadows, and once and again came a
-long, wild scream, which, in the darkness and wind, had an awful sound.
-
-Fayette knew perfectly well that it was only a coon calling, but for
-all that it frightened her. There came over her that horrible feeling
-which most people have experienced once in their lives at least--the
-sense that some unseen pursuer is coming up behind. In a sudden spasm
-of terror, she very nearly gave way to the impulse that urged her to
-rush blindly on anywhere to escape the dread follower. Nerves and
-imagination were running wild; but Fayette, from her earliest years,
-had been trained to self-control and duty. She checked the panic that
-urged her to cry and scream for help. She used her reason, and forced
-herself to look back and assure her senses that, so far as she could
-see the dim track, she and Phœbe were the only living creatures there.
-
-“I am doing what is right,” she said to herself. “God is here as much
-as in my room at home. It is folly to fear things that are not real,
-and as for living beings, not even a wolf could catch me on Phœbe.”
-
-Resolutely rousing her will, she grew more used to her situation, and,
-more able to control her terrors, she sternly refused to give rein to
-her frightened fancy. She drew a long breath, however, when once the
-wood was passed and the road began to climb the opposing hill, behind
-which, and across the creek, lay Springville. She thought of William
-of Deloraine and his ride to Melrose, and smiled at the remembrance of
-that matter-of-fact hero.
-
-“It’s a good thing, Phœbe, dear, that you and I have no deadly feud
-with any one,” she said; and then she patted the mare and praised her,
-and Phœbe, quickening her pace, broke into a gallop, and took the hill
-road with long, sweeping strides that soon brought them to the summit.
-
-Fayette began to enjoy the swift motion and a sense of independence and
-safety in Phœbe’s gentle compliance with her will; but at the hill-top
-she checked the pace, fearing a stumble down the deeply gullied hill,
-which was still sending rivulets to the creek. The amiable Phœbe chose
-to obey, and picked her way, careful both for herself and her rider.
-
-Now rose a new voice on the wind. It was the sound of angry waters, a
-long roar rising louder from time to time.
-
-“How high the creek must be!” thought Fayette; and as the roar
-increased, she began to have a sort of fear of the bridge, which she
-knew must be crossed; but she classed the feeling with her ghostly
-terrors, and soon found herself drawing near the bridge, the noise of
-the water almost drowning that of the wind.
-
-As she came to the bank, a heavy cloud came over the moon, involving
-the whole landscape in sudden and dense blackness; and at that instant
-Phœbe planted her feet like a rock, and refused to stir an inch.
-
-In vain Fayette coaxed and urged, for she dared not strike, even if she
-had had a whip. Phœbe was immovable as a horse of bronze; but at last
-she began to pull at the bridle, as though she meant to turn homeward.
-
-Just then the moon came out, and Fayette, looking eagerly forward, saw,
-to her horror, that the bridge was gone. A post and rail only remained,
-and beyond was a chasm where the furious waters had not even left a
-wreck behind.
-
-Had Phœbe’s senses not been more acute than her own, two steps more
-would have plunged horse and rider into the flood.
-
-Fayette turned sick, and felt as if she should fall from the saddle.
-She rallied, however, for she knew she must. Her senses came back in
-thankfulness to God, and she confessed humbly enough to Phœbe that she
-had known best; and Phœbe, looking over her shoulder, said, “I told you
-so,” as plainly as a horse could.
-
-Fayette was at a loss. A mile further up the stream was another and
-much better bridge than the rickety old plank structure that was
-missing; but to reach it she must turn back and make a long detour,
-that would nearly double her journey, while every minute lessened the
-chances of the sufferer at home.
-
-[Illustration]
-
-She knew that just below the bridge was a ford easily passable in
-summer, and she remembered hearing her uncle say that once, when the
-bridge was down, he had crossed this ford on horseback. It might be
-that even now she and Phœbe could make their way across.
-
-A wagon track led down to the water’s edge, and Phœbe did not refuse
-to follow this path to the stream’s edge, where Fayette checked her,
-afraid to face the passage.
-
-The creek was coming down ruffled before the wind into waves “crested
-with tawny foam,” and the “wan water” looked eerie and threatening.
-
-Fayette refused to think of the water kelpie, who just then obtruded
-himself on her mind. She bent from the saddle and scanned the road.
-
-Judging from the traces on the gravel, she thought that a wagon must
-have passed not many hours before. Her courage rose, and she set her
-will to the task before her.
-
-“If Phœbe thinks it safe, I’ll try it,” she said; and as the rein hung
-loose, Phœbe stepped cautiously in. She seemed doubtful at first, but
-she went on, and the water rose and rose.
-
-The moon cast an uncertain, wavering light on the dancing stream; the
-roar filled Fayette’s ears like a threatening voice; the waves, as
-they plunged toward her, seemed hands raised to pull her down; and
-still Phœbe stepped steadily on, and the stream came higher and higher.
-Fayette drew up her feet as far as she could, and glanced back to the
-shore, half minded to turn; but it was now as far to one bank as to the
-other. The water touched her feet; it flowed over them.
-
-The next instant she scarcely checked the shriek that rose to her lips,
-for she felt that the mare no longer touched bottom, but was swimming
-for her life and her rider’s.
-
-At the real danger her ghostly terrors fled. With a sense of wonder she
-felt her mind grow calm, her courage rise, her senses wake to their
-work.
-
-To her relief she saw that Phœbe had not lost her wits, but was keeping
-straight across the creek. She let the mare take her own way, only
-helping her as far as she could by keeping her head in the way she
-wished to go. She thought of nothing but the minute’s need; and of all
-the possibilities before her, the only fear that shaped itself in her
-mind was one for her horse.
-
-The current was strong, but so was Phœbe, and her blood was up. She
-snorted fiercely, as if angry with the force that crossed her will, and
-putting out her strength, she breasted the storm gallantly.
-
-It was but a minute, though it seemed an hour to Fayette, before she
-touched bottom.
-
-The water sank rapidly, and she reached the shore but a little below
-the usual landing. The bank came down to the stream with a somewhat
-steep incline; but mountain-bred Phœbe planted her fore feet firmly,
-scrambled cat-like up the incline, shook the clinging water from hide
-and mane, and with a joyous whinny, rushed like an arrow on the track.
-
-The way was plain before her, and in a minute or two more Fayette, with
-some trouble, checked Phœbe’s gallop at Dr. Ward’s gate. A light was
-burning over the office door.
-
-Fayette slipped from the saddle, but before she turned to the house,
-she put her arms round Phœbe’s neck, and kissed the white star on her
-forehead. As she ran up the walk, she felt, for the first time, that
-she was wet nearly to her knees, and the wind made her shiver.
-
-She rang the bell sharply, and to her relief the door was opened
-directly by Dr. Ward himself, who had just come in.
-
-Hurriedly, but clearly, Fayette told her story.
-
-“Yes, I understand,” said Dr. Ward. “But, dear me,” he added, as the
-light fell on her more clearly, “where have you been to get so wet?”
-
-“In the water,” said Fayette. “The creek is so high, and the bridge is
-down.”
-
-“Child! You did not ride that ford to-night?”
-
-“Not all the way, sir. Phœbe swam.”
-
-“Phœbe, indeed! A pretty pair are you and Phœbe to race round the
-country at midnight. Go to Mrs. Ward and get some dry clothes, while my
-man gets out the gig.”
-
-“O, sir, please be quick.”
-
-“Yes, yes; only get off those wet things. Let Phœbe stay here till
-to-morrow, for my old gig can’t swim the creek, whatever you and the
-mare can do. We must go by the upper bridge.”
-
-Mrs. Ward, called out of bed, supplied Fayette with dry things, and
-Phœbe was consigned to the doctor’s admiring colored man, to be well
-cared for before she took possession of her bed in the warm stable.
-
-The doctor kept a trotter for emergencies, and in an hour and a half
-from the time she had left home Fayette came back.
-
-Sue came to meet them, white and scared; and, as she came, Fayette
-heard a cry of anguish, which she knew that nothing but the direst
-extremity could have wrung from her strong, self-controlled aunt.
-
-The doctor took out his ether flask and sponge, and hurried to the
-bedside.
-
-Before long the ministering spirit did its good office. The tortured
-nerves relaxed, and the patient slept.
-
-Fayette put on her wrapper, and curled herself up on the sofa, leaving
-Sue and the doctor watching by the fire.
-
-When she woke it was broad daylight. All seemed quiet about the house.
-She stole across the floor, and looked into her aunt’s room. Mrs. Ford
-was awake, and held out her hand.
-
-“Is the pain gone, aunt?” asked Fayette, kissing her, and feeling a new
-love rising in her heart.
-
-“Yes, child; but I am very weak.”
-
-“It was the ether saved your life, I really think,” said Fayette, to
-whom the past night seemed like a dream.
-
-“No, my dear,” said Mrs. Ford. “It was you.”
-
-[Illustration: “BOW-WOW.”]
-
-
-
-
-FANNY.
-
-BY CLARA DOTY BATES.
-
-
-[Illustration]
-
-  What do the wistful eyes discover,
-    Full of their baby dignity?
-  Lips, I know, are as red as clover,
-  Cheeks like the bloom that flushes over
-    Peaches, sun-ripe on the tree.
-
-  Let but a merry play-thought brighten
-    Over the little pensive face,
-  Then how the sober shades will lighten,
-  Then how the dimples deep will frighten
-    Every grave line from its place.
-
-  Well, I know there is mischief sleeping,
-    Plenty of it, behind this guise;
-  Little brain has a way of keeping
-  Back the smiles; but still they are peeping
-    Out from the brow, the mouth, and eyes.
-
-
-
-
-LITTLE MARY’S SECRET.
-
-BY MRS. L. C. WHITON.
-
-  O larks! sing out to the thrushes,
-    And thrushes, sing to the sky;
-  Sing from your nests in the bushes,
-    And sing wherever you fly;
-  For I’m sure that never another
-    Such secret was told unto you--
-  I’ve just got a baby brother!
-    And I wish that the whole world knew.
-
-  I have told the buttercups, truly,
-    And the clover that grows by the way;
-  And it pleases me each time, newly,
-    When I think of it during the day.
-  And I say to myself: “Little Mary,
-    You ought to be good as you can,
-  For the sake of the beautiful fairy
-    That brought you the wee little man.”
-
-  I’m five years old in the summer,
-    And I’m getting quite large and tall;
-  But I thought, till I saw the new-comer,
-    When I looked in the glass, I was small;
-
-  And I rise in the morning quite early,
-    To be sure that the baby is here,
-  For his hair is _so_ soft and curly,
-    And his hands _so_ tiny and dear!
-
-  I stop in the midst of my pleasure--
-    I’m so happy I cannot play--
-  And keep peeping in at my treasure,
-    To see how much he gains in a day.
-  But he doesn’t look _much_ like growing,
-    Yet I think that he _will_ in a year,
-  And I wish that the days would be going,
-    And the time when he walks would be here!
-
-  O larks! sing out to the thrushes,
-    And thrushes, sing as you soar;
-  For I think, when another spring blushes,
-    I can tell you a great deal more:
-  I shall look from one to the other,
-    And say: “Guess, who I’m bringing to you?”
-  And you’ll look--and see--he’s my brother!
-    And you’ll sing, “Little Mary was true.”
-
-
-
-
-[Illustration: NURSERY TILES. --THE SHEPHERD BOY.]
-
-HOW PATTY CURTIS LEARNED TO SWEEP.
-
-BY MRS. M. L. EVANS.
-
-
-Nowadays nearly every school-room is furnished with a waste-paper
-basket, dust-pan and brush, with which the pupils are expected to keep
-the room tidy. But in the days when Patty Curtis went to school in the
-old brick school-house in Sagetown, such luxuries were unheard of, and
-the school-room during the greater part of the day was a haven for
-dirt--rather clean dirt it was, but it answered the definition which
-says, “Dirt is matter out of place.”
-
-Certainly the school-room floor was no place for the scraps of paper
-over which Patty industriously scribbled with her stubby lead-pencil,
-but it was there she dropped them without thought of wrong-doing or
-idea of further responsibility for her manuscript fragments. Cores of
-haws and crab-apples, and shells of “pig-nuts” found the same resting
-place, and soiled slate-rags were in such abundance as would have
-delighted the heart of any “old rag man;” during flower season, too, a
-desk proudly adorned with fresh flowers in the morning meant a floor
-sadly strewed with wilted, trodden fragments in the afternoon, and over
-all this litter was plentifully sprinkled the dust of the earth. Of
-this we are all supposed to be made, and it needs but little faith to
-believe that children are made of it, when one sees, in a school-room,
-the quantity of it they can kick off their feet, and shake out of
-their jackets and skirts.
-
-The services of a janitor were as unknown to the old school-house
-as were the basket, dust-pan and brush; the teacher was expected to
-do the sweeping herself. This, Miss Kelsey, Patty’s new teacher one
-spring term, found no pleasant ending to a hard day’s work. The desks
-and seats were awkwardly constructed, and placed very close together;
-if Miss Kelsey tried to sweep without looking under them, she found
-she left more dirt than she swept out, and if she thrust both head
-and broom under the seat, in order to see what she was doing, she was
-sure to bump her head, and “jab” herself with the broom-handle, and in
-either case she came out of the school-room tired and hot, and choked
-with dust.
-
-It is not strange, then, that she had not done the sweeping many days
-before she came to the conclusion:
-
-“It is the children who make all this labor necessary, and it is but
-right that they should do it themselves; they are little and active
-and could sweep under these troublesome seats more easily than I can;
-besides the girls will soon have such work to do at home, and their
-mothers will be glad to have them learn to do it here.”
-
-So one evening when both hands on the little round clock pointed to
-IV., and thirty-six boys and girls were waiting the tap at the bell
-that should dismiss them, Miss Kelsey spoke:
-
-“I have decided to ask you children to do the sweeping for me
-hereafter, and I will choose two each evening from your names, as they
-stand on my register, to do the work. To-night Sarah Adams and Aggie
-Bentley may sweep. There are two brooms, one girl can take the boys’
-side and the other the girls’ side of the room, and you will soon
-finish the sweeping.”
-
-For a moment each pupil eyed the dirty floor, and tried to decide
-whether or not sweeping was a desirable piece of work. Sarah Adams very
-soon decided to her satisfaction that it was not, and she raised her
-hand.
-
-“Well, Sarah?” said Miss Kelsey.
-
-“Please, Miss Kelsey, mother’s at a quiltin’ at Deacon Smith’s, and
-she told me to come home as soon as school was out, and help Nancy get
-supper for the men.”
-
-Sarah was the oldest girl in school, and Miss Kelsey knew that in
-whatever she led the other children were sure to follow, but she did
-not want to offend Mrs. Adams by refusing to allow Sarah to go home
-when school was dismissed, so she reluctantly said:
-
-“Well, then, I suppose I will have to excuse you. Hattie Bitner may
-take your place to-night, and you can sweep to-morrow night.”
-
-Up went Hattie’s hand as if worked by a spring. “Miss Kelsey, mother’s
-making soap, and she told me to come home right away as soon as school
-was out to tend the baby.”
-
-It was natural, though perhaps not wise, for Miss Kelsey to lose
-patience at this point.
-
-“Then,” said she, “you may go immediately, and mind you run every step
-of the way. Well, Patty Curtis, what is your mother doing that you
-cannot stay to sweep?”
-
-Now, Patty had been trying during all of the previous dialogue to think
-if there was not something that her mother might possibly want her to
-do after school, by which she might escape the sweeping, but all in
-vain, for Patty’s mother was one of the women who “never want children
-bothering around about the work,” and as Patty was too conscientious to
-invent an excuse, as some children would have done, she had no answer
-for Miss Kelsey’s question except a rather sulky, “Nothing that I know
-of, ma’am.”
-
-“Then you and Aggie Bentley take the brooms when the others are gone,”
-said Miss Kelsey, as she tapped the bell.
-
-Aggie Bentley was one of the pleasantest little girls in the world;
-when appointed to sweep she did not think of trying to evade the duty,
-it was enough for her that her teacher had asked her to do it, and
-she took the broom so cheerfully and went to work with such a vim
-that Patty was shamed out of her unwillingness, and soon was swinging
-the broom as briskly and as awkwardly as was Aggie. Still it was not
-a pleasant task, and when she came out of the school-room, coughing,
-sneezing, and wiping the dust out of her eyes, she found words for her
-disgust:
-
-“Ugh! Nasty work! I’m glad there’s thirty-four more to sweep before it
-comes our turn again. Let’s see, thirty-four, two at a time, that’s
-seventeen days. Nearly a month before we’ll have to sweep again, Aggie!”
-
-But Patty was doomed to disappointment, for at the moment she was
-making this clearly expressed calculation, Miss Kelsey was also giving
-the sweeping question serious thought.
-
-“It is going to be a hard matter to persuade these children to do
-the sweeping,” thought she. “I suppose most of the mothers can find
-something for them to do, and the little rogues who have always
-loitered and played half an hour or more on their way home, will come
-to-morrow with a fine assortment of excuses, all to the effect that
-they must be at home immediately after school. I think I had better
-change the plan and make the sweeping a punishment for whispering.
-They will not care to tell their parents that they are detained for
-misdemeanors, and it will put a check on the whispering too.”
-
-So the next morning as soon as school opened she told the pupils she
-should appoint to the sweeping, that night, the first two that she
-should see whispering.
-
-“O, my goodness gracious!” said thoughtless Flindy Jenkins to herself
-in a loud whisper, “I’ll get caught sure.” And sure enough she did, for
-down went her name in Miss Kelsey’s “black book.”
-
-Whispering was Patty’s besetting sin, and on hearing Miss Kelsey’s
-decision she buttoned up her mouth very tightly indeed, and resolved
-not to open it again until some one else was caught, and she would no
-doubt have kept this politic resolution had she not soon after spied
-little Biddy Maginnis in the act of whisking out of a knot-hole in the
-desk a bunch of violets that Patty had, a short time before, fastened
-there. They were the first violets of the season and Biddy wanted to
-smell of them, but Patty did not like to have her treasures so roughly
-handled and in the excitement of a moment forgot everything else.
-
-“Give those back here,” she said, fiercely, and almost aloud.
-
-“Patty Curtis,” said Miss Kelsey, as she wrote her name under that of
-Flindy Jenkins, “I am sorry to say that you will have to sweep again
-to-night.” And Patty with a gasp of shame and surprise, sank back into
-her seat with her rescued flowers.
-
-“It’s too bad,” she said to herself as she heard the children around
-her giggle, and in spite of her efforts the tears chased each other
-down her cheeks, giving the pretty violets a salt bath. The tears
-stopped after a while, but Patty did not recover from her vexation: she
-sulked all day, and was sulky still when she took the broom in hand
-after school. She would show Miss Kelsey, she thought in her naughty
-little heart, that the school-room would look but precious little
-better for her being kept to sweep it.
-
-Flindy Jenkins was a poor companion for a little girl in such a frame
-of mind, and she really fell in with Patty’s suggestion that they sweep
-so the school-room should “look like Biddy Maginnises’ house in the
-Hollow;” and when Miss Kelsey came to school early the next morning
-she found the room looking worse, if possible, than if it had not been
-swept at all.
-
-That afternoon Miss Kelsey sat at her desk thinking so intently about
-the sweeping, that she did not see Aggie Bentley standing beside her
-until the little girl spoke timidly:
-
-“Please, Miss Kelsey, may Patty Curtis and I go out and play a little
-while? we have got all our lessons.”
-
-Miss Kelsey glanced over to Patty and saw an eager face shadowed by
-a very doubting expression, for the little girl knew she deserved no
-play-time after her conduct of the night before. So she was surprised
-to see Miss Kelsey’s face brighten, and to hear her give a cordial
-consent. The truth was that Miss Kelsey had suddenly solved the
-problem that had been troubling her for several days. Offer as reward
-to the two that would sweep, a half hour’s extra recess when lessons
-were learned! Why had she not thought of it before? for if there was
-anything more coveted than “reward cards,” it was these “half hours.”
-Before school closed she made a simple statement of her new plan, and
-was amused to see what an electrifying effect it had upon the children;
-and when they were dismissed what a scramble there was for the brooms!
-if there had been thirty-six of these, thirty-six children would soon
-have been sweeping away at the floor of the little school-room; as
-there were but two, great was the pulling and twisting they received,
-and loud the uproar among those who wanted to use them. The trouble was
-soon settled by Miss Kelsey, who took possession of the brooms and said
-the two should sweep who came first in the morning.
-
-Patty Curtis was now in luck, for the fact that her mother had nothing
-for her to do at home, which had been such a draw-back to her before,
-would be the greatest help now; she could come to the school-house as
-early as she liked while other little girls had to wash dishes, or rock
-cradles, and the boys had wood to split and cows to drive to pasture.
-
-The next morning Patty was the first one at the school-house, and she
-had nearly finished half the sweeping when Sarah Adams came, so she
-and Sarah had the half hour play together. Sarah was two years older
-than Patty, and a very quarrelsome girl, and she and Patty succeeded
-in quarelling so over the play-house they were building that neither
-little girl got much enjoyment from the reward of her labor.
-
-As Patty intended to sweep the next morning, and did not want Sarah
-for a playmate, she lingered after school was dismissed to make
-arrangements with Aggie Bentley to assist her. They agreed that Aggie
-was to prevail upon her indulgent mother to allow her to start for
-school as soon as she ate her breakfast. Patty was to go at the same
-time, and they would have the sweeping done before Sarah, or any one
-else, should arrive.
-
-But when the two little girls went into the entry to get their
-sunbonnets they noticed that the brooms were gone from the corner where
-they always stood.
-
-“Perhaps they have been carried out of doors,” said Patty, and she
-looked out on the steps and in various possible and impossible places,
-but in vain; then she went into the house and told Miss Kelsey that the
-brooms were gone, and Miss Kelsey helped the little girls search. At
-last they all gave up. Then the teacher spoke:
-
-“I suspect, Patty, some of the pupils think you have done enough
-sweeping for a while, and want to give you a rest, so have hidden the
-brooms. Never mind, you will have many more chances to do the sweeping,
-and besides you ought not to want all the half hours for yourself.”
-
-But this did not comfort Patty very much; you will see she was rather
-a selfish little girl, and she did want all the half hours, as well as
-all other obtainable good things, for herself.
-
-“It is that Sarah Adams who has hid them brooms,” she said to Aggie as
-they walked home together, “and she has just done it for spite. I wish
-I could think of some way to get ahead of her, but I can’t.”
-
-“Well, we won’t have to go to school so early,” said Aggie; “you come
-over to my house and we will have a nice play before the bell rings.”
-
-Before dark, however, Patty had thought of a way to “get ahead” of
-Sarah Adams. This was simply, to take a broom with her when she went to
-school the next morning. But a lion in the form of Patty’s mother stood
-in the way of her getting a broom; Patty knew she would never allow one
-to be taken away from home; if Patty took one she must take it without
-permission. Now there were but two brooms in the house; one stood in
-the kitchen and was in such constant use that Patty knew it would be
-missed long before she could return it; the other was kept in the hall
-closet and was used once a week, in sweeping the parlor and “spare
-room,” and the day before had been the regular sweeping day. This she
-must take if she took either, altho’ she knew she should not, but she
-did not allow herself time enough to think about it to be persuaded
-out of the notion; she took the broom from the closet, and in the
-gathering darkness carried it to a hiding place between the wood shed
-and the pig-pen, and then went to bed to be tormented all night with
-visions of her mother’s best broom:--an old beggar woman stole it away;
-a black witch mounted it, and rode to the moon, never to return; and
-lastly, Sarah Adams found it, and knowing Patty intended sweeping with
-it burned it up before her very eyes. Patty was glad when morning came,
-and she hurried out to assure herself of the safety of the broom, as
-soon as she was dressed. When she had eaten her breakfast she started
-to school with the broom, and stopped for Aggie Bentley. Aggie found an
-old broom which her mother said she might take. They swept and dusted
-the room in high glee, and Patty had perched herself upon one of the
-front desks, and sat kicking her heels in triumph, when Sarah Adams and
-Hattie Bitner entered with the hidden brooms.
-
-“Needn’t mind sweeping this morning, girls,” said Patty; “and the next
-time you hide brooms you’d better hide all in Sagetown.”
-
-“I’ll pay you up, miss,” said Sarah, when she had recovered from her
-astonishment, and she and Hattie threw down their brooms and left the
-room in high wrath.
-
-Some way Patty did not enjoy her half hour play that morning; she was
-fearful that she might not be able to get her mother’s broom back into
-the house without being discovered, and Sarah’s threat troubled her;
-what means Sarah would take to get her into trouble she could not
-imagine.
-
-That evening as Patty sat at home, swinging back and forth in her
-little rocking-chair, who should come to make her a visit but Sarah;
-that hypocritical young woman was as smiling and as amiable as
-possible, but she declined all of Patty’s invitations to “go out and
-play;” this made Patty uneasy, she wished Sarah would go home. Pretty
-soon Patty’s mother came in and sat down, and Sarah immediately began
-talking about school and Miss Kelsey’s plans for the sweeping. Patty
-grew still more uneasy and made another effort to get Sarah out of
-doors, but when Sarah said--
-
-“My mother said she thought it was so queer that Mrs. Curtis should
-let Patty take a new broom from home to sweep that dirty school-house
-with,”--then Patty resigned herself to her fate.
-
-“Patty Curtis! you don’t mean to say that you took my best broom to
-the school-house,” said Mrs. Curtis, dropping her knitting in her
-astonishment.
-
-“Yes I did,” said Patty; “but I wouldn’t, if that mean thing there
-hadn’t hid the brooms.”
-
-“And I,” said Sarah, “wouldn’t have hid ’em, if you hadn’t been so
-stingy as to want all the play-times yourself.”
-
-“There, that will do for you both,” said Mrs. Curtis. “Patty, you may
-get yourself a bowl of bread and milk for your supper, and go to bed
-immediately.”
-
-This, Mrs. Curtis considered a very light punishment; it would have
-been much heavier if her motherly indignation had not been a little
-stirred against Sarah for playing informer; but to Patty it was hard
-enough, for she had intended going out on the common with the girls,
-late in the evening, for a game of “black man” by the light of the
-rising moon; and as she eat her bread and milk, crying quietly to
-herself, she heard Sarah’s taunting voice under the window:
-
-“Don’t you wish you’d let me sweep, so you could play ‘black man’
-to-night?”
-
-“Don’t care,” answered Patty; “I had a play when you didn’t, and I’ll
-have another to-morrow.”
-
-So she did, and though Miss Kelsey interfered to prevent Patty from
-having a monopoly of the sweeping, still she did it so often that
-before the term closed she became a famous sweeper, and her mother
-actually allowed her to take charge of the sweeping of the sitting-room
-at home, and was not at all sorry that Miss Kelsey had proved such a
-skillful tactician.
-
-
-
-
-A BIRD STORY.
-
-BY M. E. B.
-
-
-  It’s strange how little boys’ mothers
-    Can find it all out as they do,
-  If a fellow does anything naughty,
-    Or says anything that’s not true!
-  They’ll look at you just a moment
-    Till your heart in your bosom swells,
-  And then they know all about it--
-          For a little bird tells!
-
-  Now where the little bird comes from,
-    Or where the little bird goes,
-  If he’s covered with beautiful plumage,
-    Or black as the king of the crows,
-  If his voice is as hoarse as a raven
-    Or clear as the ringing of bells,
-  I know not--but this I am sure of--
-          A little bird tells!
-
-  The moment you think a thing wicked,
-    The moment you do a thing bad,
-  Are angry or sullen or hateful,
-    Get ugly or stupid or mad,
-  Or tease a dear brother or sister--
-    That instant your sentence he knells
-  And the whole to mamma in a minute
-          That little bird tells.
-
-  You may be in the depths of a closet
-    Where nobody sees but a mouse,
-  You may be all alone in the cellar,
-    You may be on the top of the house,
-  You may be in the dark and the silence,
-    Or out in the woods and the dells--
-  No matter! Wherever it happens
-          The little bird tells!
-
-  And the only contrivance to stop him,
-    Is just to be sure what you say--
-  Sure of your facts and your fancies,
-    Sure of your work and your play;
-  Be honest, be brave, and be kindly,
-    Be gentle and loving as well,
-  And then--you can laugh at the stories
-          The little bird tells!
-
-
-
-
-A NEW LAWN GAME.
-
-BY G. B. BARTLETT.
-
-
-A completely new lawn game has just been imported from Germany, which
-must soon become a very popular and amusing pastime for old and young,
-for the appliances are very simple and any one can play it, while with
-practice great skill will be developed. At present there is only one
-set of this game in America; but the readers of the WIDE AWAKE will
-need to try it but once to appreciate and enjoy it.
-
-
-BOGGIA.
-
-The game of Boggia requires one black ball, nine white balls, and nine
-colored balls. Croquet balls will answer; but those of hard wood are
-better, since they are heavier; still if made of light wood, melted
-lead can be poured into holes made with a gimlet until they weigh about
-one-half pound each.
-
-Any even number can play, from two to eighteen persons.
-
-The players are divided into two equal sides. The colored balls are
-divided among the players of one side, and the white balls among the
-players of the other side.
-
-At first the players choose by lot which shall have the first roll;
-but in all future games the side that wins has the first roll. To make
-this choice, the leader of one side holds behind him a colored in one
-hand, and a white ball in the other; and the leader of the other side
-guesses, right or left. If he guesses the hand which holds the color of
-his own side he gains the right to begin the game; if not, the other
-side begins. The leader first rolls the black ball on the lawn to such
-a distance as he chooses, from a starting-line. Upon this starting-line
-every player must place his right foot when he rolls; this line extends
-across the lawn at least twenty feet, and the player can roll from any
-part of it, as it is often desirable to roll from different angles.
-
-The leader then rolls a white ball, trying to have it stop as close as
-possible to the black ball.
-
-The leader of the other side then rolls a colored ball; his object
-being to come in closer, or to knock away either the black ball or the
-white ball.
-
-The players of each side play alternately--a white and a color--and the
-luck constantly changes; for as, at the close of the game, all balls of
-one side count which are nearer to the black than any ball of the other
-side, a lucky roll may change the whole result by coming in closer, or
-by knocking away either black, white, or colored balls.
-
-Great skill can be used, as, if the ball is too swift, it goes beyond
-all the balls unless it hits and scatters them; if too light, it fails
-to come in near the black. Great excitement always attends the last
-roll, as a good player who knows the ground can often change the whole
-aspect of the game for the advantage of his own side, and a careless
-one often throws the game into the hands of the opposite by knocking
-away the balls belonging to his own side.
-
-The side which first scores ten wins the game.
-
-
-  The pussy cat’s licking her paws:
-  I wonder what can be the cause!
-  Naughty cat, have you eaten a dear little bird?
-  But the big maltese beauty says never a word.
-  Now Kit, tell the truth while you live in this house--
-  What have you been eating? And Pussy says, “_Maowse!_”
-
-[Illustration: MOTHER PUSSY’S PET.]
-
-
-
-
-HOW PHILIP SULLIVAN DID AN ERRAND.
-
-BY MARY DENSEL.
-
-
-Bang, _bang_, _bang!_ went Philip Sullivan’s hammer, as he pounded on
-his sled “Chain Lightning.” “Chain Lightning” had needed mending ever
-since last winter, but Phil had concluded not to touch it till “just
-before the snow came.”
-
-“Never do to-day what you can put off until to-morrow.”
-
-The consequence was that the north wind suddenly puffed up a midnight
-storm, and Master Phil was awakened one morning by the shouts of the
-six Dyke boys, who were coasting merrily down “Sullivan Hill.”
-
-Phil was out of bed in a twinkling. Ten o’clock found him still working
-fiercely on “Chain Lightning,” his glue-pot simmering before the fire
-in company with his father’s best chisel and his mother’s machine
-oil-can.
-
-The shouts of the Dyke boys still resounded; and not only their
-jubilation but that of forty more coasters drove Phil nearly frantic.
-
-With all his might Phil worked on, and “Chain Lightning” was beginning
-to look as if it might hold its own even among newer sleds, when the
-door leading into the library opened softly, and fair-haired Rosabel,
-Phil’s sister, appeared on the threshold. At the same moment an
-opposite door flew open with a jerk, and there stood Rosabel “done in
-sepia,” as it were; little brown Kate, Rosabel’s twin-sister.
-
-Phil glanced up, and then became more than ever absorbed in his work.
-There was a peculiar expression on the twins’ faces. Phil instantly
-recognized it. “The _errand_ cast of features,” he grimly called it.
-
-“Phil, dear,” began Rosabel.
-
-“Phil, dear,” echoed Kate.
-
-Phil handled a screw-driver dextrously.
-
-“Phil, dear, will you please run over to the station and see if my new
-skates have come by the twelve-o’clock train? Go when the cars are due,
-won’t you?”
-
-“And Phil, dear,” chimed in Kate, “can’t you manage to go into the city
-to-day and call for a roll of music which is to be left for me at Hale
-and McPherson’s?”
-
-Now could anything be more trying to the temper of the average youth
-than requests like these, made under the existing circumstances?
-Perhaps some of us may find it in our hearts to forgive Phil for
-answering with a certain touch of asperity:
-
-“Don’t ‘Phil dear’ me! I’m not going to the station, and I’m not going
-to the city, and--”
-
-_Bang, bang, bang!_ the hammer expressed the rest of his sentiments.
-
-Rosabel arched her eyebrows, and mildly withdrew.
-
-Kate tarried to wheedle the enemy a bit, and, that failing, gave it as
-her opinion that boys ought never to have been created. Departing she
-closed the door with more force than was strictly needful, and left
-Phil alone.
-
-That individual worked on in an injured and gloomy frame of mind.
-
-“Mean enough in them to be forever nagging me. Mean enough in me not to
-get their skates and music.”
-
-It was hard for Phil to decide which was the greater wretch, himself
-or Kate. Rosabel, he concluded, could never be a “blot on the earth,”
-whatever she did. It was Rosabel who had helped him write his
-composition on “Spring;” it was Rosabel who knit his mittens; it was
-Rosabel who never shirked her share of the stirring when they made
-molasses candy.
-
-The remembrance of Rosabel’s virtues haunted Phil even after “Chain
-Lightning” was in order, and he was shooting down “Sullivan Hill,”
-lying prone on his sled, with his legs waving in the air.
-
-Perhaps that was the reason that when his elder brother Will came
-hastily up the hill and offered him five cents if he would carry a
-bundle to a store next the railway station (you see that Phil was
-regarded as the family errand boy), he condescended to saunter in that
-direction. Not that he cared for the pennies, although he accepted them
-as a token of brotherly esteem.
-
-He even quickened his pace as a shrill whistle sounded in the distance,
-and ended by racing up to the depot just as the twelve-o’clock train
-stopped.
-
-No one seemed to know about Rosabel’s skates.
-
-“Ask the man in the express office--perhaps they came on an earlier
-train,” suggested Fred Rodman, who was standing on the platform. “I’ll
-keep your sled for you. Or, see here, just slip the rope through this
-iron ring on the rear car.”
-
-Phil did as he was bidden, and leaving his sharp-shooter tied with a
-slip-knot, went into the express office.
-
-The man in the express office had never heard the proverb concerning
-“a place for everything;” or, if he had, knowing it was not among the
-Ten Commandments, felt under no obligation to heed it. He remarked that
-“somebody had said something about some skates being somewhere,” and
-went fumbling among boxes and bundles, exclaiming alternately, “Hi!
-here they be,” and “Ho! no they ain’t.”
-
-[Illustration: NOT GOING TO LOSE “CHAIN LIGHTENING” AT ANY RATE!]
-
-At last, just as he laid his hand on a queer-looking package, and was
-next to sure that here were the skates, the engine bell rang, there was
-a slight scurry outside, and the train began to move.
-
-Phil was out of the depot in a flash.
-
-“Stop!” he cried; but the locomotive paid no heed.
-
-Slowly past the platform glided the cars, pulling “Chain Lightning”
-behind.
-
-Almost before he knew what he was doing, Phil had thrown himself on
-the sled and grasped its rope. To his horror the slip-knot suddenly
-tightened, and “Chain Lightning” was firmly fastened. Every moment the
-train quickened its speed.
-
-I should not dare to tell the rest of this story, were it not true. I
-am not “making it up.” It really happened.
-
-The sled hung on the car. Phil Sullivan clung to the sled. Do you
-suppose he would lose “Chain Lightning?” Not he.
-
-Faster and faster--faster and faster still--dashed on the train. Over
-the sleepers bounded “Chain Lightning.” To this side, to that, it
-swayed madly. Phil’s grasp never slackened. On they rushed. Phil dared
-not roll off the sled now lest he should be killed. It seemed no less
-certain death to stay on.
-
-The engine gave short panting breaths, as if it were frightened,
-itself, at the trick it was playing the boy.
-
-A kindly tree stretched out a limb, but tried in vain to rescue Phil.
-The sled bounded far less now as the train whizzed along. The runners
-were half an inch from the ground. Held by its strong rope, the
-sharp-shooter was like a small tail to a big kite. Cinders flew--the
-cars flew--“Chain Lightning” flew--Phil flew. (I am telling you the
-truth.)
-
-It seemed to our friend as if he had been rushing through space ever
-since he was born. It seemed as if he had come millions of miles. Would
-this awful ride never end? Phil’s fingers were numb, so tightly did
-they clasp “Chain Lightning’s” edge. He saw stars before him.
-
-And now _thump! bump! bump! thump!_ “Chain Lightning” was knocking the
-sleepers once more. It might have occurred to Phil that he could hardly
-bear this sort of travelling much longer had not his brain been too
-dizzy to do much thinking.
-
-Presently, after another small eternity, with a final shriek the
-locomotive drew up in the city depot.
-
-       *       *       *       *       *
-
-An hour later Philip Sullivan entered the paternal mansion. Never a
-word did he say in regard to the black-and-blue spots which dotted him
-from head to foot, not yet did he feel it necessary to mention that
-every bone in his body had an especial and separate ache.
-
-“I thought I might as well go into town,” he remarked carelessly.
-“Here’s your music, Kate. Your skates will probably come to-morrow,
-Rosabel.”
-
-“Well, you are a dear,” began Kate, looking up from her crocheting. But
-before she could finish there came a loud ring at the door-bell, and
-in rushed Fred Rodman. As he caught sight of Phil, his eyes and mouth
-opened wide, and he stared for a full minute.
-
-At last, “Aren’t you dead?” he gasped.
-
-“Pho!” said Phil loftily. “I’ve as much right to be living as you, sir.”
-
-“Well, I never!” said Fred. “I was over to the post-office when the
-whistle blew, and came out just in time to see you off, and I raced
-most of the way to the city after you, and then I turned round and
-raced back to tell your folks!”
-
-“Pho!” said Phil again.
-
-We will pass over any family discussion of the incident; but within
-an hour one half of the boys in town were relating to the other half
-the story of Phil Sullivan’s ride. To be sure the versions differed,
-and to this day some of the lads a little out of Phil’s own circle are
-convinced he went to town on the cow-catcher, and other some believe
-that he rode all the way under a car, sitting on a brace between the
-wheels.
-
-But that evening, Phil much bruised and battered, yet whole in every
-limb, told to a select few the full particulars of his journey; and the
-facts of the case are as I have here narrated them.
-
-
-
-
-WINTER WITH THE POETS.
-
-BY THE EDITOR.
-
-
-Our prose writers have many winter scenes worthy of reading and
-remembrance (notably such as are found in the writings of Charles
-Dickens and Nathaniel Hawthorne) which might almost be called prose
-poems; but to-day we will wander together through the flower gardens of
-the real poets, whose eyes were made clearer to see the beauties of the
-world around them, by the loving attention they gave to common things.
-
-There is a rabbinical fable to the effect that Jesus was once passing
-along a crowded city street, and that he came to a place where lay,
-unsightly, ragged and bruised, a dead dog. The disciples said, “What
-does this carrion here? throw it out of the Master’s way.” But the
-Master said, “Look what beautiful teeth--they are white as pearls!”
-
-So the poet finds “nothing common or unclean” in anything that God has
-made, and man has not marred; and even, as in the case of the poor,
-ill-used animal, finds something left to admire in the wreck and ruin
-of former beauty. And though winter wrecks the beauty of the summer, it
-has a beauty of its own.
-
-For a country winter in New England there is no better description than
-Whittier’s “Snow-Bound” and for the same season in Old England parts
-of Cowper’s “Winter Evening,” “Winter Morning Walk” and “Winter Walk
-at Noon.” Longfellow has a description of winter in “Hiawatha” and a
-winter storm at sea in the “Wreck of the Hesperus.”
-
-Shakespeare has scattered references to winter throughout his plays;
-but he is rather the poet of human life and society than of inanimate
-nature.
-
-James Thomson, who wrote “The Seasons,” has a fine description of
-Winter; and every one should know by heart the first twenty lines of
-his “Hymn on the Seasons.”
-
-Percy Bysshe Shelley has some beautiful lines on a winter’s night; and
-Tennyson has many fine lines, “The Death of the Old Year,” and parts of
-“In Memoriam” being the finest.
-
-Would it not be interesting to each one of the readers of the GRAMMAR
-SCHOOL to gather together all the references to winter thoughts and
-scenery to be found in the writings of their favorite poet? Try and
-see!
-
-
-
-
-BESSIE’S STORY.
-
-BY FRANK H. CONVERSE.
-
-
-What my own--my true own name may be or may have been, I do not know.
-I have a fancy like a dream, that perhaps it has been Adélê. And yet
-I cannot say why. My father, the captain, whose daughter I am by
-adoption, gave to me the name of Bessie, for his wife, and Luna, for
-the moon. Thus within the log-book it is written Bessie Luna Wray.
-
-Girls that have upon the shore their home can tell to an exactness
-what age they have and when their birthdays shall be. But for myself
-who have only a home upon the sea, I may know but this--that I have
-nearly fifteen years of age, “or thereabouts,” as the captain says. I
-have never known of the birthday--only an anniversary. And when I have
-forgotten myself of the day of the month on which _that_ happens, I
-obtain the “Petrel’s” log-book for the year of eighteen hundred and
-sixty-four, where I find this of record:
-
- “Journal of hemaphrodite brig ‘Petrel,’ Wray, master, from San
- Francisco to Honolulu, Dec. 25, 1864.
-
- “This day begins with clearing weather and light airs from S. E.
- Middle part of day wind light and baffling. At 3 P. M. passed a
- quantity of floating wreck stuff. Moon fulls at 11. P. M. At 11.30
- P. M., Lat. by obs. 30° 15´, hove to, and picked up a boat of French
- build with ‘Toulon’ written in pencil on the seat, and a female child
- about one year old wrapped in a capote such as is worn by the pilots
- of Dieppe. Got under way at 12 M., course W. b. N. Call the child
- Bessie Luna Wray. So ends this twenty-four hours.”
-
-Such is all I know of my beginning of life. Excepting that only for
-the uncommon brightness of the moon, the lookout had not seen the
-drifting boat. It is said in all the books I have read, of the babe who
-is discovered, that it smiles sweetly in the face of its benefactor.
-But the captain tells me often that I rent the air with crying till I
-was black in the face, until, arriving on the deck of the “Petrel,”
-old Candace, the negress, took me in her embrace. She it was who was
-stewardess, with her husband Jim (also of color) as cook.
-
-The captain would at once have had me fed with Port wines, condensed
-milk, canned soups, and like nourishment. But Candace said “no,” and
-gave me of food in small quantities. “Dat ’ar little stummick mus’n be
-filled to depletion,” is that which the captain repeats as her words to
-him.
-
-Remaining on board, she had a care of me for four years. I would not be
-on the shore for even an hour. I cried bitterly when out of sight of my
-captain. Again we had a stewardess who was English, with her husband
-to cook. She taught me my sewing, and a prayer to say to the good God.
-But as I became more old in years the captain gave to me my instruction
-in books. He learned me of many things useful, and it is said of me
-that I have a marvellous power to attain in study. At my present age
-I am thin--_svelte_, as old M. Jacques, the former mate, says--with a
-complexion of brunette, and eyes and hair which are black. This it is,
-with the readiness which I had in learning the French language of M.
-Jacques, which gives me to think that my mother at least was French.
-The accent and words seemed to always be known to me as of a dream.
-
-But the captain will have it to say that I am a gift of Christmas from
-his wife who is with the good God. Be that as it may, I am to him as
-his very, very own, and he to me as father and mother in one, “the
-child of his old age,” he insists; for though straight and erect as the
-mast of the “Petrel,” he is in age sixty years.
-
-He has provided for me everything of comfort and elegance that a young
-girl could wish. For the “Petrel” is a small brig which goes over all
-the world where a keel may float, in order to trade. It may be to
-purchase shells in the Indian ocean, furs in St. Petersburg, fruits
-at Havana, spices in Ceylon, silks at Nankin, diamonds or ostrich
-feathers at Cape Town, knick-knacks in London, or _bijouterie_ at
-Havre--anywhere and everywhere that a bargain may be made, we go. And
-in every port the ladies of the consignee, or the American consul, will
-have me at their homes, and are _so_ good to me. They take me to the
-galleries of art and places of interest. I attend the service of the
-church with them, and at their homes I meet people who are delightful.
-Thus I have learned to love things which are beautiful, and the captain
-is only too willing to get for me what I desire. He has had built for
-me into the cabin a little cabinet organ. We took as passengers to
-the Sandwich Islands last year, a good missionary, and his wife, who
-accompanied him, taught me the music, and to sing and play, so that I
-am never ennuyéed at sea. I have a great abundance of books; I have
-my music, my studies (navigation is among them), my sewing, a canary
-bird, and a pot of ivy--beside my journal from which these pages
-are recorded--what would you more? It does not matter that we meet
-storms--sometimes terrible ones. I do not say it to boast, but I have
-not anything of fear within. I love to be on deck; I have the long oil
-coat which buttons close about me like that of the captain, and boots
-of rubber. Oftentimes the captain permits that I give the orders for
-taking in the light sails, or tacking the brig. And I can steer with
-the wheel as well as old Dan himself, or trace the vessel’s course upon
-the chart when I have figured the reckoning.
-
-You of the young ladies who murmur because of the space of closets,
-should visit _my_ room. It has a length of ten feet, a breadth of six.
-My berth, with three drawers beneath it, takes much of the room. But I
-have a tiny wash-stand, a small chair, and a trunk also.
-
-Pictures too. The one, “Christ Stilling the Tempest,” is a small
-painting in oil, which was a present to myself from a lady in Rome
-whose husband is a great artist.
-
-Opposite hangs a photograph of the “Immaculate Conception,” also a
-present from a lady in Liverpool, Mrs. Fancher. There is fastened to
-the wall a swinging lamp of solid silver. A diver of the submarine
-brought it up from the wreck of a steam yacht which, belonging to Omar
-Pacha, was lost with all those on board in the Persian Gulf. The man
-gave it as pay for his passage to Foochow. But imagine to yourself the
-curtains of my berth being of silk damask worked with gold thread! They
-are of much value, yet when one asks of their price, the captain says,
-with his laugh, that he bought them for a song. It was while we were
-loading with a few teas at Foochow. A man habited as a sailor came on
-board at the evening, and offered this for fifty dollars. He had been
-a runaway from a ship, and seeking the country, was impressed into the
-army of Chinese insurgents. They had sacked the emperor’s country seat
-at Ningpo, and this was torn from the hangings of the couch of the
-princess--or he thus said. The captain told him he could not give but
-twenty dollars, though it was of more worth. But the man said “no,” and
-went out. It was then, thinking that he had gone, I began to sing and
-play the song of Adelaide Proctor, “The Lost Chord,” which I so love.
-And the strange man came back and began to cry! He said to the captain
-if I would sing it once more, he should have the stuff at his own
-price, which I did willingly, and thus it was purchased.
-
-My book-shelves are of sandal-wood inlaid with ebony. They were given
-me in Madras by the merchant with whom the captain has done business
-these many years. The ewer and jug in my wash-stand are of bronze. They
-were discovered from a tomb in the Island of Cyprus.
-
-But it is in especial of one voyage--the last--of which I have to tell,
-for it came near to become an adventure. We were bound to Lisbon,
-seeking a cargo of the light wines for the market of New York, and
-the captain had with him for the purchase three thousand dollars in
-gold. He had shipped for the voyage a different chief mate, and also
-two men of the crew who came on board with him. It happens to me to
-notice small things, and I remember that I looked with surprise at the
-familiarity which these common sailors had secretly with the first
-mate. Old Jacques would hardly have spoken to a sailor even upon the
-land, except in the way of duty. I had for this Mr. Atkin, as he called
-himself, a strong dislike. His face had a smooth badness, but he was
-fluent of tongue with an appearance of education, and the captain
-smiled at what he said was my childish prejudice. Yet the good God has
-given me to read the human face, and I often have chosen out those from
-the crew who I felt would make trouble to the officers, and was seldom
-with mistake.
-
-The second officer was Waters, a man very young but brave and active.
-He too regarded this Atkin with suspicion. “Tell your father, Miss,” he
-said to me in private, “to keep his weather eye open, and look out for
-Atkin.”
-
-The captain did but laugh when I told him, and bade me not trouble my
-little head with fears. But I found him watchful in a quiet way after
-that, though there happened nothing for some time of suspicion.
-
-I find as I copy from my journal that I do not sometimes frame these
-sentences in the exact order that I read them in books. I cannot seem
-to readily correct myself, so I have made a point to put down all the
-conversation which I remember, exactly as it was spoken by those of
-whom I shall write. It will be a good practice for me. I began to keep
-my journal three years since, with view of having a better command of
-language.
-
-We finally made sight of the Teneriffe peak among the Canary Islands.
-It rises many thousand feet above the sea, and for miles is visible in
-the clear weather.
-
-That night the winds died away, and we were becalmed, and _so_ warm
-as it was! I could not sleep, and in the first watch--that of the
-captain--I went upon deck. Old Dan is a sailor who has been at sea with
-us a great many years, and the only one that the captain wishes me to
-speak with when he is not present.
-
-So after I had chatted with the captain a little, he went forward a
-moment with a command for the second mate.
-
-“How do you head, Dan?” I asked of him idly.
-
-“Mostly all round the compass, there being no steerage way to speak of,
-Miss,” he made answer.
-
-I yawned, for I had a strong desire to sleep, yet cared not to go to
-the close air of below.
-
-All at once, I thought of the life-boat which swings at the “Petrel’s”
-stern, covered with canvas, and how delightful to be in it were it
-possible. If there came a breath of wind I should feel it there; and
-remembering that I had seen a torn fore-royal put into the boat a few
-days previous, I made up my mind what to do. “Look you, Dan,” I said,
-“I am going to sleep in the life-boat till you shall come to the wheel
-again in the morning watch from twelve till four, and then you can call
-me.”
-
-“Very well, Miss,” he made reply, though he regarded me with a little
-doubt, “only maybe Cap’n Wray wouldn’t think--”
-
-“He need know nothing of it,” I said with impatience, for I have a will
-headstrong, which often causes me after-sorrow. And without other words
-I slipped myself within the boat, pulling the cover in place with care.
-
-“Where is Miss Wray?” I heard the captain to ask as he came aft a
-moment after.
-
-“She’s turned in, sir,” was the answer of Dan.
-
-Then the captain began his walk of the quarter-deck with vain
-whistlings for the breeze.
-
-But it was charming laying upon the old sail listening to the twitter
-of Mother Cary’s chickens, and the cool swash of the sea about the
-rudder.
-
-It is not a wonder, then, that I fell into fast sleep, only to awaken
-by the bell striking “one, two, three, four,” which I knew had the
-meaning of two o’clock of the morning, and I had some regret at my
-foolish whim, for it had become quite cool and damp. Yet I knew I might
-not release myself until four o’clock, when old Dan again had the wheel.
-
-I raised a corner of the cover and peeped out. Spanish Joe stood with
-one hand upon the wheel, looking sideways in the half darkness of the
-night. The light from the binnacle was upon his swarthy face with
-strength, and I told myself, with a little shiver, that it was the face
-of a brigand such as I had gazed upon in some gallery of pictures. But
-figure to yourself my feelings as Mr. Atkin, after listening a moment
-at the open window of the state-room of the captain, came directly
-behind the wheel, and seating himself upon the taffrail so near that I
-could touch him, began with an absent drumming of his fingers upon the
-cover of the boat itself!
-
-“Everybody is sound asleep but you and I, Joe,” he said in half a
-whisper.
-
-“_Bueno_,” was the reply of Joe; “an’ now, s’pose you say what you have
-think ’bout us try to get dis money you tell us of, eh?”
-
-“Well, Joe,” he answers, and you cannot imagine to yourself how like
-oil was his voice, “I’ve laid the thing out about this way. To-morrow
-night when Dan is steering and the Swede on the lookout, we’ll give
-young Waters a little pleasant surprise, and when he comes to himself,
-he’ll find that his hands are lashed and something over his mouth to
-keep him from making a noise--savey, Joe?”
-
-I trembled in every limb, and was with a cold perspiration on my face.
-Had I been one who swoons readily I should have fainted. But at once I
-recovered myself. “Be brave, Bessie,” I repeated to my heart: “it is
-for the dear captain’s sake.”
-
-“Then we’ll get the captain out,” the wretch continued, as Spanish Joe
-made a small nod of the head, “and serve him so, and if the cook, or
-Dan, or the Swede make a fuss (which they won’t dare do) they’ll see
-that the balance of power is with us, for we’ve got pistols, and they
-haven’t. Eh, Joe?”
-
-“Then w’at?” asked Joe with much of eagerness.
-
-“Why, then,” Mr. Atkin goes on with the ease that he would remark upon
-the weather, “we’ll put the long boat over the side, and politely
-invite Captain Wray, Miss Wray, Mr. Waters and the cook or one of the
-men to step in. They can shape their course for the Azores, only thirty
-miles away, Joe, and we’ll shape ours for Europe.”
-
-“But will you?” I thought within myself with my teeth clenched.
-
-“I’ll take command, of course,” thus the bad man continued; “and when
-we are near the land we’ll rig up the life-boat here”--and he thumped
-it with his hand--“take some provisions, water _and_ the money--”
-
-“One tousan’ apiece,” breaks in the sailor.
-
-“Take the money,” Mr. Atkin went on as if Joe had not interrupted; “and
-when we get ashore, every man will take his share, Joe--and _scatter!_”
-he said with a flourish of his fingers.
-
-“But the brig shall find harbor too--they gives alarm and sends after
-us,” said Joe.
-
-“Not after I have fixed the rudder and taken away the compass, my good
-Joe,” said the smooth Mr. Atkin; “so now you can let Jerry know what is
-expected of him, and to-morrow night--”
-
-He made no finish of his words, though, but rising, walked slow away.
-
-Ah, how slowly passed the time! but finally, Joe, with yawns, struck
-the eight bells, and the wheel was relieved by old Dan.
-
-Surely I lost no time in coming from my hiding-place, and I sought the
-captain, who, without removing his clothing, had reclined himself upon
-a lounge in the cabin. I revealed to him in whispers that which I had
-heard.
-
-“My brave little girl!” he said, as I had made an end of my story; but
-I could not think what there was of bravery in laying _perdu_, and
-listening to conspirators. Had I not given him counsel, though, I think
-he would have been for dashing upon the three who thus conspired, and
-smiting them hip and thigh. But I told him to communicate in secret
-with Mr. Waters, and they two together might make plans of strategy
-which would avail without bloodshed; and he did so.
-
-It was unfortunate that the captain was entirely without firearms of
-any kind. I think I myself would have dared to use one in such an
-emergency. But he whispered to me in the morning that he had that which
-should serve the same end; and with a beating heart I awaited the
-result.
-
-The calm remained into the forenoon of the next day. The sea was like
-oily glass, without a ripple as far as one could view, and the sun
-made itself hardly to be endured, so fierce did it beat down upon the
-scorched deck, in the seams of which the pitch fairly melted. The sails
-hung without motion against the mast, and the wheel was idle.
-
-With a heart fast beating I followed the captain, who had told me to be
-without fear, upon the deck.
-
-“I wish we had a couple of the turtle that are laying round so plenty,
-asleep on the water, this morning,” said the captain, as if to myself,
-who, stood by him, though in a careless way.
-
-I had no meaning of his words, but Atkin, who was near, looked at the
-black specks upon the water some distance away, with interest.
-
-“Yes, sir,” he made reply, “there’s always lots of them about the
-Azores in calm weather--nice soup they make, too.”
-
-“You might take the longboat, if you like, Mr. Atkin,” said the captain
-with a yawn, as if it had but then occurred to him, “and with your
-watch take two or three--it would be a change from salt beef.”
-
-“Very well, sir,” Atkin replies; for this man was a lover of nice
-food--a _gourmand_. “Here, you Joe and Jerry, get the boat over the
-side.”
-
-[Illustration: THE TABLES ARE SUDDENLY TURNED ON THE CONSPIRATORS.]
-
-I began to guess that there was a purpose in this. I saw that the
-captain had, under a mask of carelessness, a face of anxiety, and
-that the hand that held his glasses with which he viewed the horizon,
-trembled never so little as he paced backward and forward while the two
-men were putting over the boat. When all was ready, Mr. Atkin in the
-stern-sheets pushed off from the vessel’s side.
-
-“Stop a bit!” now called the captain, as I watched with strong anxiety
-his face. There was a stern ring in his voice which I had seldom heard.
-And at the same time I saw Mr. Waters, Dan and the Swede come from the
-cook’s galley with buckets of hot water which they brought to the rail.
-
-“Well?” asked Atkin with inquiry. And he motioned the two men to cease
-from rowing.
-
-“You see Teneriffe peak, do you?” again spoke the captain.
-
-“Why, yes, sir,” was the answer of Atkin: “what then?”
-
-“Just this,” said the captain; “my advice to you, you scoundrels, is
-that you pull your prettiest for the Azore Islands; for while my name
-is Wray not one of you ever shall set foot again of this brig’s deck!”
-
-Ah, then what oaths! what cries of rage! And so desperate was this
-villain Atkin that he drew a pistol and commanded his men to pull back,
-which they did with hesitation. But they were scarce within reach when
-old Dan discharged the contents of his hot-water bucket full at them.
-I clapped my hands. I could not resist. For Atkin caught enough of it
-on his neck and shoulder to cause him to fall backward over the thwart
-with a roar, and by accident, discharge his pistol in the air.
-
-Then it was they saw they were entrapped, and pulled hastily away to a
-distance, where they laid upon their oars with angry words each to the
-other.
-
-And oh, how with eagerness we watched for a breeze, which came not
-until in the late afternoon. But when once more the ripple of the water
-made around the bows, and the sails swelled out with a wind from the
-southwest, I breathed with freeness, and we all thanked the good God as
-we watched the boat of the conspirators to disappear in the distance.
-
-There were left on board the captain, second mate, two men, the cook
-and stewardess. And Captain Wray said I should be his second mate, Mr.
-Waters acting as chief officer.
-
-Many times I stood at the wheel for three and four hours before we
-reached Lisbon. But the “Petrel,” which has but a tonnage of one
-hundred and sixty, was easily handled, and the good God gave us
-favoring winds, as also fair weather; so with much fatigue, but
-otherwise well, we finally reached our port in safety.
-
-The captain sometimes speaks as one who is getting too old for the life
-of the ocean--in particular of late does he say this. And he has made
-hints at a home upon the land, with a house which shall look far out
-over the sea, and be ever within the sound of its voice. It may be that
-after a time, and with him, I should be content thus to live. But as
-now, I regard it with dread. I had somehow dreamed of a continuation
-of this life which so delights me, and some day to be buried under the
-blue waves. But we shall see.
-
-
- The foregoing story is entirely true in all its essential features. I
- was somewhat acquainted with Miss Wray, and it was with sorrow that in
- the list of disasters two winters ago, I read that the brig “Petrel”
- was lost in the English Channel, with all on board, in a December gale.
-
- F. H. C.
-
-
-
-
-A DIFFERENCE OF OPINION
-
-BY THE EDITOR.
-
-
-WINTER TO SUMMER.
-
-  “_I_ would not be so friendly with the sun;--
-    Hot-headed fellow, prying everywhere!
-  _My_ flowers brightly bloom when he is gone,
-    And sparkle in the clear and frosty air.”
-
-
-SUMMER TO WINTER.
-
-  “Winter, I own your icy blossoms fair,
-    But cold and white, unlike the rainbow hues
-  That paint _my_ flowers--and who would ever care
-    For flowers less lasting than my morning dews?”
-
-
-
-
-THE GRASS, THE BROOK, AND THE DANDELIONS.
-
-BY MARGARET EYTINGE.
-
-
-The sparkling, babbling, baby-brook that ran gayly through the meadow
-whispered to the sleeping grass, one lovely spring morning, just as
-dawn was breaking, “Wake up, wake up, and see what May has scattered
-over you.” And the grass, awaking from a pleasant dream of summer,
-beheld a number of bright, yellow, star-shaped dandelions, smiling in
-the early sunshine.
-
-“Welcome a thousand times,” said its many blades in a chorus of
-delight. “How sweet and fresh you look, with the dew-drops clinging to
-your dainty petals of shining gold. But you may well look bright and
-happy,” they continued in less cheerful tones, “for you are flowers,
-and flowers so beloved by the sun that he paints you his own beautiful
-color.”
-
-“And are _you_ not happy, too?” asked the dandelions, in innocent
-surprise.
-
-“Yes, we are happy,” answered the grass, with a little sigh; “but we
-would be _so_ much happier if we were flowers!”
-
-“_We_ are nothing, you know, but common grass, with no hope of being
-anything better.”
-
-“No change for us. No budding and turning into sweet, blue, white,
-pink, or golden blossoms.”
-
-“Grass we are, and grass we must remain until the end of our days.”
-
-“For shame!” cried the dandelions, their honest faces all aglow.
-“‘Common grass,’ indeed! Dear May told us all about you, and the
-blissful mission that is yours, only yours, before she dropped us
-here.”
-
-“_You_ have been chosen to clothe the whole earth, while the flowers
-you envy are only the ornaments that cling to the lovely robes you
-weave.”
-
-“Surely you would not have been so chosen if you were not beautiful,
-and _most_ beautiful.”
-
-“Why are we never called so, then?” asked the grass. “Even the children
-never notice us; but mark our words, the moment they see _you_, they’ll
-shout, ‘O, the pretty, pretty dandelions!’”
-
-“They don’t call us ‘pretty’--O, no, indeed!”
-
-“Nothing is ever said about _us_.”
-
-“We’re _grass_, that’s all. No one ever gathers us.”
-
-“We are never made into posies or worn in waving ringlets.”
-
-“Nobody admires us and nobody praises us.”
-
-“Not so, not so,” murmured the brooklet, soft and low, and its words
-all flowed in tune and rhyme. “_I’ve_ sung your praises many a time.
-And bird and bee oft tell to me, as through the meadow and field I
-pass, how much they love the beautiful grass. So don’t get blue,
-whatever you do, for green’s the color, dear grass, for you. And,
-believe me, everywhere you grow, a joy you bring, I _know_ ’tis so. And
-now, I pray, bend over this way, and take the kiss I have for you.”
-
-The grass bent gracefully toward the brook, and took not one, but three
-kisses, and then the chattering little thing went dancing on its way.
-
-Early that evening, as the setting sun was sinking slowly in the
-west, a strong, sunburnt young fellow, with a merry twinkle in his
-bright brown eyes, came into the meadow, and began cutting some
-sods,--whistling as he worked,--and packing them away in a wheelbarrow
-he had brought with him.
-
-The grass that had talked with the dandelions, and been kissed by the
-brook in the morning, was the last to be cut, and so was placed upon
-the top of the load.
-
-“O, what can this mean?” asked its many tiny blades, _this_ time in a
-chorus of sorrow. “Why are we taken from our home? Alas! we never knew
-how much we loved our beautiful meadow until now, when we are leaving
-it forever. Where can we be going?”
-
-But just then the man took up the handles of the wheelbarrow, and the
-grass only had time to wave a last farewell as he trundled it away.
-
-“Farewell,” called the dandelions; “farewell,” murmured the brook; and
-“farewell,” sighed the grass that was left behind.
-
-The young man wheeled the barrow into the front yard of a newly-built
-little cottage on the other side of the road.
-
-There was here no sign of anything green, but the brown earth had been
-dug and nicely raked, and the grass heard it saying softly to itself
-in joyful tones, “O, now I shall be dressed at last--here comes the
-beautiful, friendly grass to cover me.”
-
-Then the grass thought of what the dandelions had said.
-
-Down went the sods on the ground, and away went the barrow for some
-more; and again and again it went, until at least a dozen loads had
-been brought; and then, taking off his coat, the very brown young man,
-whistling merrily all the time, began to make a grass plot.
-
-Soon all the sods were put down; and the tiny garden commenced already
-to look bright and cheerful.
-
-“Jenny!” called the brown-faced, brown-eyed, brown-haired (_wasn’t_ he
-brown?) gardener, as he took off his hat to wipe his brow.
-
-A rosy-cheeked, blue-eyed young woman came to the cottage door in
-answer to his call, with a rosy-cheeked, blue-eyed baby girl in her
-arms. “O, the beautiful grass!” cried she, when she saw what had been
-done; and, “Pretty, pretty!” said the baby girl, clapping her fat,
-dimpled hands.
-
-Then the grass thought of what the brook had sung.
-
-“It makes the place look pleasant at once,” said the man, leaning
-on his spade and looking smilingly at his work. “But just wait till
-we have a good shower, and then it will be as green as--as--green
-as--well, as green as grass, for I don’t know anything greener,” he
-added, laughing. “And I say, Jenny, what a splendid place it’ll be for
-baby to tumble about on! You can latch the gate, and then she can roll
-about here as much as she pleases--bless her little heart!”
-
-“Bess ’er ittie heart!” echoed baby, with funny gravity.
-
-“Yes, indeed,” answered the happy mother, kissing the soft, sweet red
-mouth of her darling. “She’ll have many a merry hour here, with the
-daisies and dandelions. How thankful we ought to be,” she went on a
-moment after, her face growing serious with a feeling of gratitude,
-“to Our Father in Heaven for covering the earth with such a lovely
-garment--so soft for the weary feet, so refreshing to the tired eyes!
-And do you know, Ralph, I never feel so sorry for the poor in great
-cities as I do in summer, when I think of them shut in tall, dreary
-brick houses, from the windows of which they can see nothing but
-paving-stones, no beautiful grass, or else such little struggling
-patches that the sight makes them sadder than ever.”
-
-“There, what did we tell you?” asked a voice so tiny that only the
-grass heard--and lo! a dandelion that had clung to its friends, and so
-been carried along to share their new abode.
-
-“Yes--yes, you were right,” answered the grass. “We see how blessed we
-are, and _now_ we wouldn’t change places with the sweetest flowers that
-ever bloomed.”
-
-[Illustration]
-
-
-
-
-THE BIRDS’ HARVEST.
-
-BY MRS. J. D. CHAPLIN.
-
-
-If “Restwood,” the little country-house to which we fly from the heat,
-and dust, and toil of the great city, were only large enough, we would
-invite all the young “Wide Awakes” to gather there. We would show them
-such scenery; we would wander with them through the deep pine-forest,
-whose whisperings are mingled with the wild roar of the dashing sea,
-and take them to sail in our fairy-like boat, over a bay that cannot be
-outshone by even the lovely Italian waters.
-
-Near us are rich country squires, in great, square, white houses, where
-their fathers lived and died; farmers, who fight manfully against what
-inlanders call sterility, making fruitful the very sands by their
-energy; and a few retired city gentlemen, who fish, and sail, and hunt,
-and read, and ride, and eat, and sleep.
-
-But the greatest among all these, a few years ago,--he may prove in the
-coming day one of the greatest in the kingdom of heaven,--was a tall,
-frail young man, whom his neighbors regarded as deficient in intellect.
-Everybody is weak in some direction. A wise man has remarked, that
-no one since the fall, when all humanity lost its balance, has been
-perfectly sane. It is sometimes very hard to tell who, taking all
-things into account, are the “weaker;” but there is little doubt that a
-jury of wise men would have counted our friend Jotham Belden among them.
-
-What little balance-wheel was missing in that mind, He who made it
-only knows; but we rejoice that, while He withheld some powers common
-to most men, He also bestowed on him what He withholds from many--a
-powerful memory, and a delicately refined taste, and a strong sense of
-right.
-
-Jotham was no pauper weakling. He was the cherished son of an honorable
-widow, who had ample means to gratify all his innocent desires; who
-speaks of him now with a sigh as well as a smile, and tells how he was
-the fairest and brightest of her fold, till the blight fell on him,
-and he rose from his sick bed shattered in body, and with a cloud over
-his mind. “He was never again the same Joe, whose bright speeches and
-merry pranks had been the pride of the farm-house, and the amusement of
-the village,” she tells you.
-
-The Scotch have this beautiful saying: “The feckless (witless) are
-God’s peculiar care.” And it seemed as if this blighted one, Joe
-Belden, were, indeed, His peculiar favorite; as if, in the furnace of
-pain, with his worldly wisdom had also been consumed all of meanness,
-and selfishness, and hardness.
-
-Jotham grew up very watchful of the interests of all about him. No
-fellow-being was too low or too sinful to claim his pity; no creature
-of God too mean to share his love and protection. Being weak in body,
-he had never toiled for his bread. When in the house, he read, in
-stammering accents, to his mother, held the yarn while she wound it,
-and performed any little task she required. This all done, he would
-stroll out, as he said, to see that all was right in town. He would go
-to a house where there was sickness, look anxiously up at the windows,
-and hang patiently round the gate till spoken to. Then he would ask,
-“Want anybody to go for the doctor? Want any jelly? Want burdocks, or
-horseradish, or anything?”
-
-If sent for the doctor, or allowed to dig herbs for the sufferer, he
-was the happiest man in town; if nothing was wanted there, he would
-wander off to the lonely poor-house--a long, red building, in a barren
-waste, looking as if erected to teach men and women that they had no
-business to be old and poor, and that they must be punished for it.
-Here his were like angels’ visits in the joy they brought. His pockets
-were an unfathomable depth; heavy with jack-knives, gimlets, screws,
-nails, buttons, keys, chalk, cinnamon, cloves, and lozenges, and the
-thousand innumerable trifles which become treasures in such a blank as
-this poor-house was.
-
-Jotham’s coming made more commotion than a peddler’s; for although he
-brought far less stores, either in quantity or quality, they could get
-his as they could not the other’s, for want of money. Newspapers,
-tracts, and, occasionally, a book, were among his gifts; and perhaps He
-who seeth not as man seeth, regarded and blessed these weak efforts as
-He does not always the gold and the silver which rich men cast into the
-treasury.
-
-One spring day, after an unusually severe winter, Jotham presented
-himself before his mother in a blue farm-frock, with his pants tucked
-into a pair of two capacious cowhide boots.
-
-“Why, my son, are you going to work?” the old lady asked, in surprise.
-
-“Yes, Hans has plowed the three-cornered field for me, and I’m going to
-sow grain myself,” he cried, triumphantly.
-
-“But that’s poor soil, dear boy, and it’s far from the house. There are
-stones there, and you cannot gather your crop if any grows,” said his
-mother.
-
-“They’ll gather the crops themselves, mother; they don’t need any
-sickle, nor any one to teach them. God teaches them how to get in their
-harvest,” was Jotham’s reply.
-
-“Whom are you talking about, Jotham,” asked his mother, in surprise.
-
-“Of God’s birds, mother. The men said at the store last night, that
-lots of birds died round there in the fall and spring--starved to
-death, and all the grain is God’s. I’m going to sow a field on purpose
-for them, and nobody shall reap it but them. I love them because God
-loves them. I’ll feed them as he feeds me.”
-
-Tears filled her eyes as she laid her hand tenderly on the brown head
-of her smitten son. Was she not happier than many a mother whose bright
-boy has wandered far from innocence and truthfulness?
-
-One day, not long after this, Jotham’s minister saw him walking over
-the fields in a strange, circuitous manner, describing curves and
-angles like a drunken man. Waiting till he came up to the road, the
-gentleman asked, “What makes you walk in that way, Jotham?”
-
-“For fear I’ll step on the ant-hills, sir. There never were so many
-ants before, sir; the fields and the roads are full of their little
-houses. They built them grain by grain; and what would God think of me
-if I trod on them just for carelessness,--as if a giant should tear our
-house down to amuse himself, or because he didn’t care! You know, sir,”
-he added, in a whisper, looking reverently up to the skies, “He hadn’t
-any home down here, though the foxes and the birds had; and He’s very
-careful of all homes now,--homes are such beautiful things, sir.”
-
-“God bless you, dear boy,” said the minister. “It was for Christ’s sake
-you cast seed broadcast over that rocky field, for His sake that you
-turned your foot away from the home of the poor ant; and for this love
-He will never leave you hungry or homeless.”
-
-“Thank you, sir,” was the innocent reply of poor Jotham.
-
-“God’s birds” gathered one harvest under the eye of their grateful
-patron, and then he was called away from his simple work.
-
-His step had long been growing weaker, and the hectic burning more
-brightly in his cheek, when, one evening, as he lay on the lounge
-beside his mother, in light slumber, he called her, and said, “Did you
-hear that, mother?”
-
-“No, Jotham. What do you hear?”
-
-“The fluttering of a great many wings--birds of every color; and all
-the other creatures I have loved, are enjoying themselves in the
-sunshine. The black ants have all turned to gold, and all the other
-creatures that men hate. I hear a voice, mother--hark! ‘Ye are of more
-value than many sparrows. Go to the ant; consider her ways.’ I never
-hurt anything God made--did I, mother?”
-
-“No, my child.”
-
-“Well, I told Him so, and He smiled on me.”
-
-“You’ve been dreaming, Jotham,” said his mother, tenderly.
-
-“Have I?” he asked; and it is no matter whether his vision was what we
-call “dreaming,” or not; he had dealt lovingly with the weak things
-of God, and was now receiving His approval, as “faithful over a few
-things.”
-
-Before day dawned Jotham’s weak powers were expanding in the warmth of
-God’s love, and he is now, for aught we know, one of the greatest in
-the kingdom of heaven.
-
-Many summers have brought birds and flowers since then; but if you
-should pass Willow Brook Farm to-day, you would see a wild-looking crop
-of grain growing rank and free in a three-cornered field, off to the
-east of the house. Perhaps you would also see an aged woman standing in
-the door-way, shading her eyes with her hand, as she looks off on this
-little memorial crop which she has caused to be planted every year, for
-the sake of him who planted it once “for Christ’s sake.”
-
-
-
-
-BIRDS’-NEST SOUP.
-
-BY ELLA RODMAN CHURCH.
-
-
-Every one thinks of China when birds’-nest soup is mentioned--it seems
-so naturally to belong with stewed snails, fricasseed rats, and other
-delicacies of that sort; and the Chinese are very large consumers of
-this strange dish, but they are not the only ones.
-
-The nests from which the soup is made are found in Borneo, Java, and
-other warm regions, and are the dwelling-houses of the edible or
-esculent swallow. They are not made, like other nests, of moss, leaves,
-and twigs, as not much soup could be extracted from such things, but
-the substance is like gelatine, and is thought to proceed from the
-body of the bird--just as the web does from that of the spider, or the
-cocoon from the silk-worm.
-
-When the swallows’ houses are new and fresh they are snowy white, and
-so delicate and pretty, that they look quite good enough to eat. This
-is the kind that the Chinese are extravagantly fond of, and they pay
-enormous prices for them. But the sun and wind soon darken them, and a
-family of swallows at housekeeping do not keep them in very nice order;
-so that, before they are fit for soup, they have to be cleaned and
-bleached.
-
-The airy swallows, who do not think anything of precipices, and never
-trouble their heads about the soup business, build their nests in
-such dangerous caves, often hanging directly over the sea, that the
-people who gather them do it at the risk of their lives; and this makes
-birds’-nest soup a very expensive dish. The nests are very clear and
-beautiful, and so transparent that, when held to the light, pictures
-placed on the other side can be seen through them. Some of them are
-shaped like clam and oyster shells, and much thicker at the end that is
-fastened to the rock.
-
-The outside is in layers; but the inside shows the glutinous threads of
-which they are made, and which exposure to the air has made as hard as
-isinglass. These nests are so shallow, that they do not seem capable of
-holding either birds or eggs, one of them measuring only two inches in
-length, one and three quarters in breadth, and half an inch in depth.
-It is said, however, that the building of one nest will keep a pair of
-swallows hard at work for two months; it is well, therefore, that the
-little laborers do not know that they are not building houses but soup.
-
-There are four different kinds of swallows that make these gelatinous
-nests; and the opening to the cave where they are built is always taken
-possession of by a swallow that mixes moss with the gelatine, and tries
-to drive the soup swallow away. But they fight sturdily for their
-beloved caves, and even attempt to knock down the mixed nests with
-stones.
-
-The people of Borneo, where these nests are found in the greatest
-quantities, have many singular stories about their origin; and perhaps
-the most interesting of these is the account of the hungry little boy
-to whom no one would give anything to eat.
-
-This little boy was taken by his father from one Dyak village to
-another, called Si-Lébor; and as the journey was long, they arrived
-tired and hungry. It was a large village, with plenty of Dyaks in it;
-and the chief of the tribe brought refreshments for the father, but
-gave the poor child nothing. The dishes must have been served in hotel
-fashion, just enough for one; for it did not take the poor little
-traveler long to see that he was to go hungry. The narrative says that
-“he felt much hurt;” which he undoubtedly did, and began to cry.
-
-Instead, however, of appealing to his selfish father for a share of the
-viands, he made quite a little speech to the chief and his followers:--
-
-“To my father,” said he, “you have given food, the _prīok_ of rice is
-before him, the fatted pig has been killed--everything you have given
-him. Why do you give me nothing?”
-
-But people who keep their enemies’ heads in their houses, in ornamental
-rows, as these Dyaks did, cannot be very tender-hearted; and the
-moanings of a hungry little boy were nothing more to _them_ than the
-buzzing of a fly. The child cried and cried; but his father placidly
-pursued his way through the rice and the pig; while the others probably
-continued their conversation, or stared stolidly at nothing in
-particular.
-
-After a while the poor little neglected boy became quiet, and seemed to
-have forgotten about being hungry. He even amused himself with a dog
-and a cat, which he placed together on a mat round which all the people
-were seated in Dyak fashion. The cat and the dog, guided by the boy,
-cut up such queer antics, that every one burst out laughing.
-
-But a spell was working against them for their cruelty. The boy was
-protected by the evil spirits; and soon the sky grew black, and fearful
-gusts of wind rushed over the place. Then came such awful peals of
-thunder and lurid flashes of lightning, while the ground beneath them
-shook and rumbled, that the whole universe seemed breaking up.
-
-The darkness was frightful; and the dazzling flashes of lightning only
-showed the fearful changes that were taking place. The village, with
-its houses, melted away; and, with the inhabitants, were changed into
-masses of stone. Not one was left alive, except the boy; and it must
-have been a long time before he got anything to eat.
-
-He went back to his native village, and lived to be respected as the
-chief of his tribe; it is not probable that any one ever neglected him
-again in the matter of rice and fatted pigs. Indeed, one would suppose,
-after that lesson, a constant guard of watchers would be kept on a
-sharp lookout for hungry little boys.
-
-But to come to the birds’ nests. Many years after this particular
-little boy had died an old and honored chief, a young chief, who was
-his lineal descendant, had a remarkable dream. In this dream, he
-was told that he and his tribe would find great riches if they went
-to Si-Lébor, the petrified village. They started the next day; and,
-searching carefully about among the rocks, they came to an extensive
-cave. They entered it with lighted torches, and found it full of the
-famous edible birds’ nests.
-
-“Ah!” said they, delighted, “this is our portion, instead of that which
-was denied to our ancestor; his due was refused then, it has now been
-given to us his descendants; this is our ‘_balas_’ (revenge).”
-
-The birds’ nests were brought out of the cave by thousands; and thus
-they found their treasure. These Si-Lébor caves are still considered
-the richest; and the tribes who own them, the descendants of the hungry
-little boy, are the most prosperous and respected in all the region
-round.
-
-[Illustration: “THEY SAY YOU ARE THE FELLOW THAT MADE SO MUCH TROUBLE
-IN KANSAS.”]
-
-
-
-
-THE STORY OF TWO FORGOTTEN KISSES.
-
-BY KITTY CLOVER.
-
-
-[Illustration]
-
-  When little Dimple Dumpling, one chill fall evening,
-    Was tucked up, all in white, within his downy bed,
-  His mamma quite forgot to come and kiss him,
-    And in the morning, too, forgot to come, ’tis said:--
-  Of course ’tis strange that two forgotten kisses
-    Should make such mischief in the house in just one night;
-  But when Boy Dumpling woke up in the morning,
-    His lips, they say, had lost their sweet, his eyes their bright,
-  And he, who’d always been a darling,
-  He fell at once with nurse to quarreling.
-
-  [Illustration]
-
-  He would not wear his scarlet frock,
-    Although the morn was chill and frosty;
-  And off he kicked his sky-blue sock,
-    Till nurse called him “Mister Crosstie,”
-  And, all at once, giving a dreadful groan,
-  She left cross Dimple Dumpling all alone.
-
-  But when the sounds of silver spoons and bowls
-    Came up and jingled round in Dimple’s chamber,
-  And in stole savory sniffs of steaks and rolls,
-    Quick from his chair did Dimple clamber;
-  And as he knew that little leggies bare
-    Were not received at mamma’s breakfast table,
-  He thought he’d better oil and ’fume his hair
-    And button on his frock himself if able,--
-        The scarlet frock,--
-        The sky-blue sock,--
-        He was in it
-        In a minute!
-
-  [Illustration]
-
-  But down stairs Dimple hourly grew more cross,
-    And o’er the house with awful noise went rushing,
-  Till all his folks stood up, quite at a loss
-    To hit upon some brand-new means of hushing.
-  But on his friends the ogre frowned,
-    And in the desks and drawers went prowling,
-  Until a fierce jack-knife was found
-    That just exactly matched his scowling.--
-  Then Dimple opened every blade,
-    And went right at his dearest treasures,
-  And hacked, till every toy was made
-    The victim of his savage measures.
-
-  Next Dimple growled aloud he’d “keep a school;”
-    So up hopped Minnie, merry as a linnet,
-  And offered picture-book and painted rule--
-    But “no,” he shrieked, “he wouldn’t have her in it!”
-  He seized her wooden dolls that couldn’t smile.--for O,
-    O, _how_ he hated smiles, grim Dimple Dumpling!
-  And all the time they sat there in that wooden row
-    His yellow head against the wall was crumpling,--
-  It must have been so sore,--but there he sat, like stone,
-    And kicked the floor till mamma cried, “O, this is
-  _Very_ bad!”--but, ah, if mamma’d only known
-    Her little boy was bad for lack of kisses!
-
-  [Illustration]
-
-  Well, all at once, the silver sun shone out,
-    And Minnie played she’d never heard those speeches,
-  But led cross Dimple out, with skip and shout,
-    Down where the wind had blown the rareripe peaches.
-  Just one single Red-Cheek lay on the grass,
-    And O, how Dimple pushed and rushed to get it,
-  Though Minnie stepped aside to let him pass;
-    And, then, away he ran to stand and eat it.--
-  O, Dimple Dumpling! O, such a bad little man,
-  All for two kisses! I wonder if this can
-  The reason be that so many a little brother
-  Goes wrong his life long,--for lack of kisses and mother!
-
-  [Illustration]
-
-    How do I know but a terrible hunger
-  Gnaws at the hearts of motherless boys?
-  How do I know but ’tis that that destroys
-    All that is good, until boys that are younger
-  Than you, Boy Dumpling, make the streets sorrowful places,
-  And the angels weep at the look on the wee, wee faces?
-
-  But off ran selfish Dimple through the pink peach trees,--
-    “I’s goin’ by myse’f into the meadow,”
-  He screamed,--instead, he fell upon his chubby knees
-    And tumbled over in the brambly shadow.
-  Then loud did Dimple shriek, “Minnie! hornets and bees!”
-    He rolled, he struck before, and struck behind him,
-  While little Minnie flew along the pink peach trees,--
-    “O, dear Dimple! Dimple darling!”--to find him.
-
-  [Illustration]
-
-  Ah, well, perhaps the hornets like a naughty fellow!
-    For there they rested on his round and rosy cheeks,
-  And there they clung upon his hair so soft and yellow,--
-    No wonder that the tender little sister shrieks!
-  And when they heard her not a hornet missed her;
-  They stung her blind just ’cause she was his sister!--
-        Poor little sister, poor little brother,
-        One ran one way, and one the other!
-
-  All day long was dear little Dimple lost,
-    And all the house was out and calling, “Dimple! Dimple!”
-  Till just at dark a dingle dim was crossed,
-    And there, asleep, down in the grass, all sweet and simple,
-  And like a lily, Dimple was; and mamma, in her joy,
-  Kissed and kissed him, and he woke up Her Own Good Boy.
-
-
-
-
-  Transcriber’s Notes:
-
-  Italics are shown thus: _sloping_.
-
-  Small capitals have been capitalised.
-
-  Variations in spelling and hyphenation are retained.
-
-  Perceived typographical errors have been changed.
-
-
-
-
-
-
-
-
-
-
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-<p style='text-align:center; font-size:1.2em; font-weight:bold'>The Project Gutenberg eBook of All the World Over, by Ella Farman</p>
-<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'>
-This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and
-most other parts of the world 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 <a href="https://www.gutenberg.org">www.gutenberg.org</a>. If you
-are not located in the United States, you will have to check the laws of the
-country where you are located before using this eBook.
-</div>
-
-<p style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:0; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Title: All the World Over</p>
-<p style='display:block; margin-left:2em; text-indent:0; margin-top:0; margin-bottom:1em;'>Interesting Stories of Travel, Thrilling Adventure and Home Life</p>
-<p style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:0; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Authors: Ella Farman</p>
-<p style='display:block; margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0; margin-left:2em;'>Lucia Chase Bell</p>
-<p style='display:block; margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0; margin-left:2em;'>Frank H. Converse</p>
-<p style='display:block; margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0; margin-left:2em;'>Louise Stockton</p>
-<p style='display:block; margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0; margin-left:2em;'>Other Popular Authors</p>
-<p style='display:block; text-indent:0; margin:1em 0'>Release Date: March 4, 2022 [eBook #67560]</p>
-<p style='display:block; text-indent:0; margin:1em 0'>Language: English</p>
-  <p style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:0; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em; text-align:left'>Produced by: Alan, Juliet Sutherland and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net</p>
-<div style='margin-top:2em; margin-bottom:4em'>*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK ALL THE WORLD OVER ***</div>
-
-<div class="figcenter">
-<img src="images/cover.jpg" alt="" />
-</div>
-
-<div class="figcenter1">
-<img src="images/fig1.jpg" alt="" />
-<p class="caption">IN THE BULL-CIRCUS, MADRID.</p>
-</div>
-
-
-
-
-<h1 class="gesperrt">
-ALL THE WORLD OVER</h1>
-
-<p class="c large"><i>INTERESTING STORIES OF TRAVEL, THRILLING<br />
-ADVENTURE AND HOME LIFE</i></p>
-
-<p class="c tiny p4">BY</p>
-
-<p class="c less">ELLA FARMAN, MRS. LUCIA CHASE BELL, FRANK H. CONVERSE, LOUISE STOCKTON,<br />
-AND OTHER POPULAR AUTHORS</p>
-
-<div class="figcenter1">
-<img src="images/fig2.jpg" alt="" />
-<p class="caption">ON A WILD GOOSE CHASE</p>
-</div>
-
-<p class="c more p4"><i>FULLY ILLUSTRATED</i></p>
-
-<p class="c p4">BOSTON</p>
-
-<p class="c large">D. LOTHROP COMPANY</p>
-
-<p class="c more">1893.
-</p>
-
-
-<p class="c p4 less">
-<span class="smcap">Copyright, 1892,<br />
-by<br />
-D. Lothrop Company.</span><br />
-
-&mdash;&mdash;&mdash;&mdash;&mdash;<br />
-
-<i>All rights reserved.</i>
-</p>
-
-<div class="figcenter1">
-<img src="images/fig3.jpg" alt="" />
-</div>
-
-
-<hr class="full x-ebookmaker-drop" />
-
-<div class="bbox">
-
-<p class="ph2">CONTENTS</p>
-
-<p class="c sans">(Created by transcriber. Not present in original.)</p>
-
-<table summary="LIST OF STORIES">
-
-<tr><td class="tdl">All the World Over</td>
-    <td class="tdl"><a href="#c1">Unknown</a></td></tr>
-
-<tr><td class="tdl">Queen Louisa and the Children</td>
-    <td class="tdl"><a href="#c2">Mary Stuart Smith</a></td></tr>
-
-<tr><td class="tdl">The Plaything of an Empress</td>
-    <td class="tdl"><a href="#c3">M. S. P.</a></td></tr>
-
-<tr><td class="tdl">Charlie’s Week in Boston</td>
-    <td class="tdl"><a href="#c4">Charles E. Hurd</a></td></tr>
-
-<tr><td class="tdl">A Wonderful Trio</td>
-    <td class="tdl"><a href="#c5">Jane Howard</a></td></tr>
-
-<tr><td class="tdl">Two Fortune-seekers</td>
-    <td class="tdl"><a href="#c6">Rossiter Johnson</a></td></tr>
-
-<tr><td class="tdl">The Little Christmas Pies</td>
-    <td class="tdl"><a href="#c7">E. F.</a></td></tr>
-
-<tr><td class="tdl">The Strangers from the South</td>
-    <td class="tdl"><a href="#c8">Ella Farman</a></td></tr>
-
-<tr><td class="tdl">Wi’ Wee Winkers Blinkin’</td>
-    <td class="tdl"><a href="#c9">J. E. Rankin, D. D.</a></td></tr>
-
-<tr><td class="tdl">The Childrens’ Shoes</td>
-    <td class="tdl"><a href="#c10">Blanche B. Baker</a></td></tr>
-
-<tr><td class="tdl">Ethel’s Experiment</td>
-    <td class="tdl"><a href="#c11">B. E. E.</a></td></tr>
-
-<tr><td class="tdl">Cinders</td>
-    <td class="tdl"><a href="#c12">Madge Elliot</a></td></tr>
-
-<tr><td class="tdl">Tom’s Centennial</td>
-    <td class="tdl"><a href="#c13">Margaret Eytinge</a></td></tr>
-
-<tr><td class="tdl">Little Chub and the Sky Window</td>
-    <td class="tdl"><a href="#c14">Mary D. Brine</a></td></tr>
-
-<tr><td class="tdl">Little Boy Blue</td>
-    <td class="tdl"><a href="#c15">C. A. Goodenow</a></td></tr>
-
-<tr><td class="tdl">Ghosts and Water-melons</td>
-    <td class="tdl"><a href="#c16">J. H. Woodbury</a></td></tr>
-
-<tr><td class="tdl">Funny Little Alice</td>
-    <td class="tdl"><a href="#c17">Mrs. Fanny Barrow</a></td></tr>
-
-<tr><td class="tdl">“Pretty,” and Her Violin</td>
-    <td class="tdl"><a href="#c18">Holme Maxwell</a></td></tr>
-
-<tr><td class="tdl">Dolly’s Last Night</td>
-    <td class="tdl"><a href="#c19">Emily Huntington Miller</a></td></tr>
-
-<tr><td class="tdl">Nib and Meg</td>
-    <td class="tdl"><a href="#c20">Ella Farman</a></td></tr>
-
-<tr><td class="tdl">The Little Parsnip-man</td>
-    <td class="tdl"><a href="#c21">E. F.</a></td></tr>
-
-<tr><td class="tdl">How Dorr Fought</td>
-    <td class="tdl"><a href="#c22">Salome</a></td></tr>
-
-<tr><td class="tdl">Tim’s Partner</td>
-    <td class="tdl"><a href="#c23">Amanda M. Douglas</a></td></tr>
-
-<tr><td class="tdl">Unto Babes</td>
-    <td class="tdl"><a href="#c24">Helen Kendrick Johnson</a></td></tr>
-
-<tr><td class="tdl">What Happened to the Baby</td>
-    <td class="tdl"><a href="#c25">Magaret Eytinge</a></td></tr>
-
-<tr><td class="tdl">Mrs. White’s Party</td>
-    <td class="tdl"><a href="#c26">Mrs. H. G. Rowe</a></td></tr>
-
-<tr><td class="tdl">Queer Church</td>
-    <td class="tdl"><a href="#c27">Rev. S. W. Duffield</a></td></tr>
-
-<tr><td class="tdl">The Fun-and-frolic Art School</td>
-    <td class="tdl"><a href="#c28">Stanley Wood</a></td></tr>
-
-<tr><td class="tdl">Some Quaker Boys of 1776</td>
-    <td class="tdl"><a href="#c29">C. H. Woodman</a></td></tr>
-
-<tr><td class="tdl">What I Heard on the Street</td>
-    <td class="tdl"><a href="#c30">Clara F. Guernsey</a></td></tr>
-
-<tr><td class="tdl">Kip’s Minister</td>
-    <td class="tdl"><a href="#c31">Kate W. Hamilton</a></td></tr>
-
-<tr><td class="tdl">Jim’s Troubles</td>
-    <td class="tdl"><a href="#c32">Grandmere Julie</a></td></tr>
-
-<tr><td class="tdl">The Christmas Thorn</td>
-    <td class="tdl"><a href="#c33">Louise Stockton</a></td></tr>
-
-<tr><td class="tdl">Midget’s Baby</td>
-    <td class="tdl"><a href="#c34">Mary D. Brine</a></td></tr>
-
-<tr><td class="tdl">A Nocturnal Lunch, and Its Consequences</td>
-    <td class="tdl"><a href="#c35">Lily J. Chute</a></td></tr>
-
-<tr><td class="tdl">Lulu’s Pets</td>
-    <td class="tdl"><a href="#c36">Mary Standish Robinson</a></td></tr>
-
-<tr><td class="tdl">What Janet Did With Her Christmas Present&nbsp;</td>
-    <td class="tdl"><a href="#c37">L. J. L.</a></td></tr>
-
-<tr><td class="tdl">Christmas Roast Beef</td>
-    <td class="tdl"><a href="#c38">A. W. Lyman</a></td></tr>
-
-<tr><td class="tdl">Granny Luke’s Courage</td>
-    <td class="tdl"><a href="#c39">M. E. W. S.</a></td></tr>
-
-<tr><td class="tdl">Billy’s Hound (PI)</td>
-    <td class="tdl"><a href="#c40">Sara E. Chester</a></td></tr>
-
-<tr><td class="tdl">Billy’s Hound (PII)</td>
-    <td class="tdl"><a href="#c41">Sara E. Chester</a></td></tr>
-
-<tr><td class="tdl">Pussy Willow and the South Wind</td>
-    <td class="tdl"><a href="#c42">A Poem</a></td></tr>
-
-<tr><td class="tdl">Little Sister and Her Puppets</td>
-    <td class="tdl"><a href="#c43">Rev. W. W. Newton</a></td></tr>
-
-<tr><td class="tdl">Spring Fun</td>
-    <td class="tdl"><a href="#c44">A Poem</a></td></tr>
-
-<tr><td class="tdl">The Lost Dimple</td>
-    <td class="tdl"><a href="#c45">Mary D. Brine</a></td></tr>
-
-<tr><td class="tdl">The Other Side of the Story</td>
-    <td class="tdl"><a href="#c46">Kate Lawrence</a></td></tr>
-
-<tr><td class="tdl">Jack Horner</td>
-    <td class="tdl"><a href="#c47">A Poem’s Meaning</a></td></tr>
-
-<tr><td class="tdl">Double Dinks</td>
-    <td class="tdl"><a href="#c48">Elizabeth Stoddard</a></td></tr>
-
-<tr><td class="tdl">Learning to Swim</td>
-    <td class="tdl"><a href="#c49">Edgar Fawcett</a></td></tr>
-
-<tr><td class="tdl">Sweetheart’s Surprise</td>
-    <td class="tdl"><a href="#c50">Mary E. C. Wyeth</a></td></tr>
-
-<tr><td class="tdl">The Cross-patch</td>
-    <td class="tdl"><a href="#c51">Mrs. Emily Shaw Farman</a></td></tr>
-
-<tr><td class="tdl">The Proud Bantam</td>
-    <td class="tdl"><a href="#c52">Clara Louise Burnham</a></td></tr>
-
-<tr><td class="tdl">The True Story of Simple Simon</td>
-    <td class="tdl"><a href="#c53">Harriette R. Shattuck</a></td></tr>
-
-<tr><td class="tdl">In the Tunnel of Mount Cenis</td>
-    <td class="tdl"><a href="#c54">Mrs. Alfred Macy</a></td></tr>
-
-<tr><td class="tdl">A Ride on a Centaur</td>
-    <td class="tdl"><a href="#c55">Hamilton W. Mabie</a></td></tr>
-
-<tr><td class="tdl">Lill’s Travels in Santa Claus Land</td>
-    <td class="tdl"><a href="#c56">Ellis Towne</a></td></tr>
-
-<tr><td class="tdl">Bob’s “Breaking in”</td>
-    <td class="tdl"><a href="#c57">Eleanor Putnam</a></td></tr>
-
-<tr><td class="tdl">The First Hunt</td>
-    <td class="tdl"><a href="#c58">J. H. Woodbury</a></td></tr>
-
-<tr><td class="tdl">Chinese Decoration For Easter Eggs</td>
-    <td class="tdl"><a href="#c59">S. K. B.</a></td></tr>
-
-<tr><td class="tdl">Il Santissimo Bambino</td>
-    <td class="tdl"><a href="#c60">Phebe F. Mᶜkeen</a></td></tr>
-
-<tr><td class="tdl">My Mother Put It on</td>
-    <td class="tdl"><a href="#c61">Mrs. A. D. T. Whitney</a></td></tr>
-
-<tr><td class="tdl"> A Child in Florence (PI)</td>
-    <td class="tdl"><a href="#c62">K. R. L.</a></td></tr>
-
-<tr><td class="tdl">A Child in Florence (PII)</td>
-    <td class="tdl"><a href="#c63">K. R. L.</a></td></tr>
-
-<tr><td class="tdl">A Child in Florence (PIII)</td>
-    <td class="tdl"><a href="#c64">K. R. L.</a></td></tr>
-
-<tr><td class="tdl">Seeing the Pope</td>
-    <td class="tdl"><a href="#c65">Mrs. Alfred Macy</a></td></tr>
-
-<tr><td class="tdl">Fayette’s Ride</td>
-    <td class="tdl"><a href="#c66">Clara F. Guernsey</a></td></tr>
-
-<tr><td class="tdl">Fanny</td>
-    <td class="tdl"><a href="#c67">Clara Doty Bates</a></td></tr>
-
-<tr><td class="tdl">Little Mary’s Secret</td>
-    <td class="tdl"><a href="#c68">Mrs. L. C. Whiton</a></td></tr>
-
-<tr><td class="tdl">How Patty Curtis Learned to Sweep</td>
-    <td class="tdl"><a href="#c69">Mrs. M. L. Evans</a></td></tr>
-
-<tr><td class="tdl">A Bird Story</td>
-    <td class="tdl"><a href="#c70">M. E. B.</a></td></tr>
-
-<tr><td class="tdl">A New Lawn Game</td>
-    <td class="tdl"><a href="#c71">G. B. Bartlett</a></td></tr>
-
-<tr><td class="tdl">How Philip Sullivan Did an Errand</td>
-    <td class="tdl"><a href="#c72">Mary Densel</a></td></tr>
-
-<tr><td class="tdl"> Winter With the Poets</td>
-    <td class="tdl"><a href="#c73">The Editor</a></td></tr>
-
-<tr><td class="tdl">Bessie’s Story</td>
-    <td class="tdl"><a href="#c74">Frank H. Converse</a></td></tr>
-
-<tr><td class="tdl">Difference of Opinion</td>
-    <td class="tdl"><a href="#c75">The Editor</a></td></tr>
-
-<tr><td class="tdl">The Grass, the Brook, and the Dandelions</td>
-    <td class="tdl"><a href="#c76">Margaret Eytinge</a></td></tr>
-
-<tr><td class="tdl">The Birds’ Harvest</td>
-    <td class="tdl"><a href="#c77">Mrs. J. D. Chaplin</a></td></tr>
-
-<tr><td class="tdl">Birds’-nest Soup</td>
-    <td class="tdl"><a href="#c78">Ella Rodman Church</a></td></tr>
-
-<tr><td class="tdl">The Story of Two Forgotten Kisses</td>
-    <td class="tdl"><a href="#c79">Kitty Clover</a></td></tr>
-
-
-</table>
-
-</div>
-
-
-
-
-<div class="chapter">
-<h2 class="nobreak" id="c1">ALL THE WORLD OVER</h2>
-</div>
-
-<div>
-<img class="drop-capp2" src="images/fig4.jpg"  alt="" />
-</div>
-
-
-<p class="drop-capp">PERHAPS one of the most vivid impressions which the tourist receives
-upon his entrance into any Spanish city whatsoever, is of its muscular
-beggars&mdash;men of enormous size, with their ruffianly swaggering strength
-exaggerated by the national cloak. This garment is of heavy, tufted
-woollens, long and fringed, almost indestructable, and is frequently worn
-to muffle half the face; and the broad slouch hat, usually with a couple of rough
-feathers stuck in its band, does not tend to soften the general brigandish effect.</p>
-
-<p>These beggars are licensed by the government, which must reap a goodly revenue
-from the disgraceful crowd, as they are numerous, and therefore they pursue their
-avocation in the most open manner. They will frequently follow the traveller a
-half-mile, especially should they find him to be ignorant of that magic formula of
-dismissal which is known to all Spaniards:</p>
-
-<p><i>Pardon, for God’s sake, Brother!</i></p>
-
-<p>This appeal is constantly on the lip of every Spanish lady. She utters it swiftly,
-without so much as a glance, a dozen times of a morning on her way to church,
-as a dozen gaunt, dirty hands are thrust in her face as she passes; and hearing it,
-the most persistent fellow of them all is at once silenced, and falls back.</p>
-
-<p>Coming in from their kennel-homes among the ruins and the holes in the hills
-outside, it is the custom to make an early morning tour of the city before they
-take up their stations for the day at the various church and hotel doors. Each seems
-to be provided with “green pudding,” in his garlic pot, and he eats as he goes
-along, and prays as he eats, stopping in front of the great oval patio or court gates
-of iron lattice, which guard the mansions of the rich.</p>
-
-<p>At these patio doors he makes a prodigious racket, shaking the iron rods furiously,
-and all the while muttering his prayers, until some one of the family
-appears at a gallery window. Then instantly the mutter becomes a whine, a pitiful
-tale is wailed forth, and alms are dolefully implored “for the love of God.”
-But although such mottoes as “Poverty is no Crime” are very often painted
-on the walls of their fine houses, the probability is that the unmoved Señorita
-will murmur a swift “Pardon, for God’s sake, Brother!” and retire, to soon appear
-again to silence another of the fraternity with the same potent formula.</p>
-
-<p>However, each of the countless horde is sure to gather in centimes sufficient
-for the day’s cigarettes and garlic, and, in the long run, to support life to a
-good old age.</p>
-
-<div>
-<img class="drop-capp3" src="images/fig5.jpg"  alt="" />
-</div>
-
-<p class="drop-capp">THE Spaniards are a nation of dancers and singers. Every Spanish
-child seems born with the steps, gestures, snappings and clappings
-of the national <i>fandango</i> dance, at the ends of his fingers and toes.
-A guitar is the universal possession, and every owner is a fine
-player. The solitary horseman, the traveller by rail, takes along his
-guitar; and in car, or at cross-roads, he is sure of dancers at the first
-thrilling twang. There is always a merry youth and maiden aboard ready to
-make acquaintance in a dance, and anywhere the whole household will troop from
-the cottage, the plowman will leave his team in the furrow, and the laborer
-drop his hoe, for a half-hour’s joyous “footing o’t.”</p>
-
-<p>One of the interesting sights of Toledo is the great city fountain on Street
-St. Isabel, near the cathedral. It is a good place to study donkeys and their
-drivers, and the lower classes of the populace. The water, deliciously sweet
-and cool, is brought from the mountains by the old Moorish-built water-ways,
-and flows by faucet. There is no public system of delivery, consequently a good
-business falls into the hands of private water-carriers. These supply families at
-a franc a month. The poorer households go to and fro with their own water-jars
-as need calls, carrying them on their heads. They often wear a cushioned
-ring, fitting the head, to render the carrying of the jar an easier matter.</p>
-
-<p>A picturesque article of dress among Spanish men, is the national sash,
-a broad woollen some four yards in length, of gay colorings. This is wound three
-or four times around the waist, its fringed end tucked in to hang floating, and the
-inevitable broad knife thrust within its folds, which also hold the daily supply
-of tobacco. A common sight is the sudden stop on the street, a lighting of a
-fresh cigarette, a loosening of the loosened sash, a twitch of the short breeches,
-and then a tight, snug wind-up, when the lounger moves on again.</p>
-
-<p>Another amusing sight is the picturesque beggar who seems at first glance
-to be hanging in effigy against the cathedral walls, so motionless will some of
-these fellows stand, hat slouched over the face, the brass government “license”
-labelling the breast, a hand extended, and, in many cases, a crest worn prominently
-on the ragged garments, to show that the wearer is a proud descendant
-of some old grandee family. To address this crested beggar by any other
-title than <i>Caballero</i> (gentleman) is a deadly insult.</p>
-
-<div class="figcenter">
-<a href="images/fig6big.jpg">
-<img src="images/fig6.jpg" alt="" />
-</a>
-</div>
-
-<div>
-<img class="drop-capp" src="images/fig7.jpg"  alt="" />
-</div>
-
-<p class="drop-capp">AMONG the many small sights of the Plaza about Christmas time, are
-the sellers of zambombas, or Devil’s Fiddles. This toy, which the
-stranger sometime takes for a receptacle of sweet drinks to be imbibed
-through a hollow cane, is a favorite plaything with Spanish
-children. A skin is stretched over a bottomless jar; into this is
-fastened a stout length of sugar-cane, and lo! a zambomba. Its urchin-owner
-spits on his palms, rubs them smartly up and down the ridgy cane, when the
-skin-drum reverberates delightfully.</p>
-
-<p>The fruit markets are of a primitive sort. The peasant fills his donkey-panniers
-with grapes, garlic, melons straw-cased and straw-handled, whatever he has ripe,
-and starts for town. Reaching the Plaza, in the shade of the cathedral, he
-spreads his cloak, rolling a rim. On this huge woollen plate he arranges his
-fruit, weighing it out as customers demand.</p>
-
-<p>From the old Moorish casements, the traveller looks down on the most rudimentary
-sort of life. He sees no labor-saving machinery. Instead of huge vans
-loaded with compact hay bales, he beholds the donkey hay-train. The farmer
-binds a mountain of loose hay on each of his donkeys, lashes them together,
-and with a neighbor to help beat the train along, starts for market. These
-trains may be seen any day crooking about among the steep mountain-ways.</p>
-
-<p>The student of folk-life notes the shoemakers on the Plaza at work in the
-open air. Formerly the sandal was universally worn, with its sole of knotted
-hemp, and its canvas brought up over the toe, at which point was fastened a
-pair of ribbons about four feet long, and these ribbons each province had its
-own fashion of lacing and tying. But now the conventional footgear of Paris
-is common, and one buys boots of the fine glossy Cordovan leather for a trifle.</p>
-
-<p>The proprietors of the neighboring vineyards visit the wine shops weekly to
-bring full wine-skins, and take such as are emptied. These skins, often with
-their wool unsheared, are cured by remaining several weeks filled with wine-oil,
-and all seams are coated with pitch to prevent leakage. The wholesale skins
-hold about eight gallons, being usually those of well-grown animals. They are
-stoutly sewn, tied at each knee, and also at the neck, whence the wine is
-decanted into smaller skins by means of a tunnel.</p>
-
-<div class="figcenter">
-<a href="images/fig8big.jpg">
-<img src="images/fig8.jpg" alt="" />
-</a>
-</div>
-
-<div>
-<img class="drop-capp" src="images/fig9.jpg"  alt="" />
-</div>
-
-<p class="drop-capp">THE beggars of Spain are a most devout class. Piety is, with them, the
-form under which they conduct business; a shield, and a certificate of
-character. They walk the streets under the protection of the patron
-saint of the principal church in town, and they formally demand alms
-of you in the name of that saint. It is Religion that solicits you&mdash;the
-beggar’s own personality is not at all involved; and it is thus that the
-proud Spanish self-respect is saved from hurt.</p>
-
-<p>The tourist who has not tarried in French towns, is, at first, astonished to
-behold women passing to and fro upon the streets with no head covering whatever.
-Hats and bonnets are rarely seen upon Spanish women of the lower and
-middle classes. Those who are street-venders sit bareheaded all day long in their
-chairs on the Plaza, wholly indifferent to the great heat and blinding dazzle of
-the Spanish sun. About Christmas, dozens of a “stands” spring up along the
-Plaza. It is at that season that the gypsy girls come in with their roasters
-and their bags of big foreign chestnuts; and they do a thriving business,
-for every good Spanish child expects roast chestnuts and salt at Christmas.</p>
-
-<p>Many of the mountain families about Toledo keep small flocks of sheep&mdash;flocks
-that, instead of dotting a green landscape with peaceful white, as in
-America and Northern Europe, only darken the reddish-brown soil of Spain with
-a restless shading of a redder and a deeper hue. These brown sheep are
-herded daily down on the fenceless wastes. The shepherd-boys are usually
-attended by shepherd-dogs so enormous in size that the traveller often mistakes
-them for donkeys. They are sagacious, and do most of the herding, their masters
-devoting themselves to the guitar, the siesta, the cigarette, and the garlic pudding.</p>
-
-<p>Toledo, more than any other Spanish city, abounds with interesting bits and
-noble examples of the old Moorish architecture, for the reason that it has not
-been rebuilt at all, and that few of its ruins have been restored, or even
-retouched. Color alone has changed. The city now is of the soft hue of a
-withered pomegranate. Turn where you will, your eye is delighted by an ornate
-façade, a carved gateway with its small reticent entrance door, a window with
-balcony and cross-bars, and everywhere there is the horseshoe arch with its beautiful
-curve. The old Alcazar is standing, though occupied as a Spanish arsenal,
-and on the height opposite is the ruin of a fine Moorish castle.</p>
-
-<div class="figcenter">
-<a href="images/fig10big.jpg">
-<img src="images/fig10.jpg" alt="" />
-</a>
-</div>
-
-<div>
-<img class="drop-capp" src="images/fig11.jpg"  alt="" />
-</div>
-
-
-<p class="drop-capp">ONE of the best “small businesses” in a Spanish city, is that of the
-domestic water-supply. Those dealers who have no donkeys, convey it
-to their customers in long wheelbarrows constructed with a frame to
-receive and hold several jars securely. Stone jars, with wood stopples
-attached with a cord, are used, the carrying-jars, being emptied into
-larger jars in the water-cellars. The peasants have a poetic appellation
-for the soft, constant drip of the water from the old aqueducts: <i>The sigh of the Moor</i>.</p>
-
-<p>With the Spaniard, as with the American, the turkey is a special Christmas
-luxury. But the tempting rows of dressed fowls common to our markets and
-groceries, are never to be seen. As the holiday season draws very close at hand,
-the mountain men come down into the city, driving before them their cackling,
-gobbling, lustrous-feathered flocks, bestowing upon them, of course, the usual daily
-allowance of blows which is meted out to the patient family donkey. These poultry
-dealers congregate upon the Plaza, where they smoke, and chaff, and dicker, keeping
-their droves in place with the whip; and the buyer shares in the capture
-of his flying, screaming, flapping purchase, in company with all the children on
-the street, for the turkey market is usually great fun for the Spanish youngster.</p>
-
-<p>In the cold season, one of the morning sights of a Spanish town is the preparation
-of the big charcoal braziers outside the gates of the fine dwelling-houses.
-The coals are laid and lighted, and then the servant blows them with a large
-grass fan until the ashes are white, when he may consider that all deadly fumes
-are dissipated, and that it is safe to carry it within to the room it is to warm.</p>
-
-<p>Nearly all the peasants in the near vicinity of cities are market gardeners
-on a small scale. They cultivate small plots, and whenever any crop is ripe,
-they load their donkey-panniers and go into the cities, where they sell from
-house to house. These vegetable-panniers have enormous pockets, and are woven
-of coarse, dyed grasses, in stripes and patterns of gaudy blue and red. When
-filled, they often cover and broaden the donkey’s back to such an extent that
-the lazy owner, determined to ride, must sit on the very last section of backbone.
-Some of the streets in Toledo are so narrow that the brick or stone
-walls of the buildings have been hewn and hollowed out at donkey-height, to
-allow the loaded panniers to pass. The buyers make their bargains from the
-windows, a sample vegetable being handed up for inspection.</p>
-
-<div class="figcenter">
-<a href="images/fig12big.jpg">
-<img src="images/fig12.jpg" alt="" />
-</a>
-</div>
-
-<div>
-<img class="drop-capp" src="images/fig13.jpg"  alt="" />
-</div>
-
-
-<p class="drop-capp">TRAVELLERS should deny themselves Spain during December, January
-and February. The heating apparatus of the American and the English
-house is unknown in Spanish dwellings&mdash;fireplace, stove, nor furnace.
-The peasant draws his cloak up to his nose and shivers and
-cowers, while the middle-class family lights a single brazier, and the
-household, gathering in one room, hovers over the charcoal smouldering
-away in its brass cage, and the cats sit and purr on the broad wooden rim.
-These braziers are expensive&mdash;constructed of brass and copper&mdash;and few families
-afford more than one, making winter comfort out of the question, as the floors,
-of marble or stone, never get well warmed.</p>
-
-<p>With the coming of pleasant weather Spanish families usually forsake the
-blinded, draperied, balconied rooms of the gallery for the secluded and garden-like
-patio. This court is often fifty feet square, and in its enclosure there is
-generally a fountain; the floor is tiled with marble, there are stately tropic plants
-in tubs, and orange and palm-trees are growing. Should the sunshine become too
-fierce there are smoothly-running screens and awnings to roof the whole court
-in an instant. Some of the old Moorish patios contain quaint wells, dry at
-some seasons, but often affording water sufficient for housekeeping needs.</p>
-
-<p>The water-jars come from the famous potteries of Seville, and, made of a
-rude red clay, are similar in hue to our plant pots. They are brought in high
-loads by oxen&mdash;and these pottery carts are often an enlivening feature of the
-dull country roads.</p>
-
-<p>The water cellar is not a cellar at all, but a stone-paved room off the patio,
-delightfully cool and sloppy of a fiery July day, with the water-carriers unloading,
-and filling the array of dripping red jars with the day’s supply from the
-public fountain.</p>
-
-<p>Every Spanish peasant wears a knife in his sash. These knives are usually
-about eighteen inches long, with a broad, sharp, murderous blade. The handles
-are of tortoise or ivory, often carved richly, or inlaid with figures of the Virgin,
-the Saviour, or the crucifix. The knife is kept open by a curious little wheel,
-between blade and handle, and is used indiscriminately, to slice a melon or lay
-bare a quarrelsome neighbor’s heart.</p>
-
-<div class="figcenter">
-<a href="images/fig14big.jpg">
-<img src="images/fig14.jpg" alt="" />
-</a>
-</div>
-
-<div>
-<img class="drop-capp" src="images/fig15.jpg"  alt="" />
-</div>
-
-<p class="drop-capp">SEVILLE is celebrated for its oranges and its pottery. Nearly the
-whole Spanish supply of water-jars comes from this city; and the
-outlying country is agreeably dotted with orange orchards, as olive
-oases enliven the vicinity of Cordova. The export of the fruit is
-a considerable business. The most delicious orange in the world may
-be bought in the streets of Seville for a cent, and the ordinary rate for the ordinary
-fruit is four for a cent. In the Christmas season large and selected oranges are
-sold in the outdoor booths. They are carefully brought, and temptingly hung in
-nets, along with melons cased in straw, fine bunches of garlic, chestnuts,
-assorted lengths of sugar-cane, tambourines, zambombas, and such other sweet
-and noisy objects as delight the Spanish youngster.</p>
-
-<p>The decorative plant of Spain is the aloe&mdash;truly decorative, with its base of
-long, dark, clear-cut, sword-like leaves, its tall slender trunk often rising twenty
-feet high, and its broad candelabras of crimson blooms.</p>
-
-<p>A picturesque industry of Seville is the spinning of the green rope so much
-used by Spanish farmers. It is manufactured from the coarse pampas grass of
-the plains, and the operation is a very leisurely and social one, requiring three
-persons: one to feed the wheel, one to turn it, and a third to receive the
-twisted rope.</p>
-
-<p>Plowing, in Spain, is still a very rude performance. The primitive plow of
-the Garden of Eden era is yet in use&mdash;a sharp crotch of a tree, crudely shod,
-however, with iron.</p>
-
-<p>An indispensable article of peasants’ costume for both men and women, should
-an absence of even two hours be contemplated, is the <i>alforja</i>, or peasant’s bag.
-This, in idea, is similar to the donkey-pannier&mdash;a long, stout, woollen strip
-thickly tufted with bunches of red and blue wool, with a bag at either end,
-and is worn slung over the shoulder. The pockets of the <i>alforja</i> invariably contain,
-one a pot of garlic, or green pudding, the other a wine skin.</p>
-
-<p>The mouths of some wine-skins are fitted with a bottomless wooden saucer,
-and are lifted to the lips for drinking; but the preferable and national style is
-to catch the stream with the skin held aloft and away at arm’s-length.</p>
-
-<div class="figcenter">
-<a href="images/fig16big.jpg">
-<img src="images/fig16.jpg" alt="" />
-</a>
-</div>
-
-<div>
-<img class="drop-capp" src="images/fig17.jpg"  alt="" />
-</div>
-
-
-<p class="drop-capp">A CENTRAL point of interest for visitors to Seville is the Cathedral.
-Its tower, known as the Giralda, is one of the most celebrated
-examples of sacred Moorish architecture. It was erected in an early
-century, and was considered very ancient when the Spaniards, in
-the reign of Ferdinand and Isabella, built upon it the fine Cathedral.
-In the interior, the Tribuna de la Puorta Mayor is much visited for its lofty
-and beautiful sunlight effects, and there are several precious Murillos.
-The ascent of the Giralda is usually made by tourists&mdash;an agreeable variety in
-European climbing, as there are no stairs, the whole progress being by an easy
-series of inclined planes of brick masonry. Queen Isabella, not long ago, made
-the entire ascent and return upon horseback. From the summit, one views the
-whole of Seville, with its dark-green rim of orange gardens, set in the great
-flat barrens that stretch out towards Cadiz. A comic sight usual at the foot of
-the tower, significant as a sign of the complete contempt in which the Catholic
-Spaniard holds all things Moslem and Moorish, is that of a goat belonging to
-one of the custodians, tethered from morning till night to a fine old Muezzin bell.</p>
-
-<p>Another noted building is the Tower of Gold, on the banks of the Guadalquiver,
-opposite the Gypsy quarter. Tourists visit it to get the fine architectural
-effect of the Cathedral, also for its view of the Bull Ring. It stands on
-the site of the old Inquisition, where hosts of Moorish captives were tortured.</p>
-
-<p>The Alcazar, always visited, is an ancient Moorish palace, and is considered,
-in point of elegance, second to only the Alhambra. It is now set aside by
-the government as the residence of the Queen-mother Isabella.</p>
-
-<p>San Telmo is also much visited. It is the palace of the Duc de Montpensier,
-known throughout Spain as “the orange man.” He owns numerous orange
-orchards, and lavishes much time and money on his plantations and hothouses.</p>
-
-<p>Another point of curiosity is known as the House of Pilate. It is said to be
-an exact reproduction of the celebrated House of Pilate in Jerusalem. It is
-remarkable for some exquisite tiles, and it bears many interesting inscriptions.</p>
-
-<p>Seville presents an odd aspect to the stranger between the hours of three
-and six P. M. During this hot interval the streets and shops are deserted,
-everybody, even to the beggars, being under cover and asleep.</p>
-
-<div class="figcenter">
-<a href="images/fig18big.jpg">
-<img src="images/fig18.jpg" alt="" />
-</a>
-</div>
-
-<div>
-<img class="drop-capp" src="images/fig19.jpg"  alt="" />
-</div>
-
-<p class="drop-capp">MOST of the peasant girls in the vicinity of Spanish cities contrive
-to keep a bit of flower-garden for their own personal
-purposes. She is a thriftless lass indeed, who has not at least
-one fragrant double red rose in tending, or some other red-flowered
-shrub. From Christmas on through the spring fête-days of the Church,
-they reap their tiny harvests. During this season every Spanish man and woman
-who can, wears a red flower in button-hole or over the ear, and the streets are
-thronged with bareheaded, black-tressed peasant and gypsy flower-venders.
-Flowers are a part of the daily marketing, and two or three centimos&mdash;a
-centimo is one fifth of a cent&mdash;suffice to buy a fresh nosegay. New Year’s is
-a marked fête in Seville, as then “The Old Queen” in the Alcazar rides out
-in state, the Alameda is thronged with carriages, and the whole populace is
-a-blossom with red.</p>
-
-<p>A custom noticed by the tourist who lingers about cathedral doors, is one
-most observed, perhaps, by the poorer and more superstitious classes. Men and
-women dip the fingers, on entrance and departure, in holy water, and wet some
-one of the countless crosses which are set in the wall just above the cash-boxes&mdash;the
-cash-box in Spain being the inevitable accompaniment of the cross.</p>
-
-<p>As in other Spanish cities, the noble Profession of Beggary considers itself
-under the protection of the Church, and the entrance to the cathedral is down
-a long vista of outstretched hands, the fortunate one at the far end, who holds
-aside the matting portiere for you to enter, feeling sure of a fee, however the
-others fare. The whole vicinity abounds with loathsome spectacles of disease
-and distress, those entirely helpless managing to be conveyed daily into holy
-precincts. It is often amusing to witness an adult beggar “giving points” to
-some young amateur in the art, the dignity of the national calling evidently
-being insisted upon.</p>
-
-<p>An agreeable sight in this city of churches and beggars, is the afternoon
-stroll of companies of young priests and students from the convents. They are
-very noticeable, as part of the panorama, with their broad, silky shovel hats and
-black flowing gowns. Some are scholastic and intent upon their studies even in
-the streets, while others evidently take a most young man-of-the-world enjoyment
-in their cigarettes and the street-sights.</p>
-
-<div class="figcenter">
-<a href="images/fig20big.jpg">
-<img src="images/fig20.jpg" alt="" />
-</a>
-</div>
-
-<div>
-<img class="drop-capp" src="images/fig21.jpg"  alt="" />
-</div>
-
-<p class="drop-capp">REVENUES are collected in most primitive ways by the Spanish
-City Fathers. As there are no important sources of public
-income, there are few transactions, however trifling, that do not pay
-tax and toll. Every man is suspected of smuggling and “false
-returns,” and it is a small bunch of garlic that escapes. Burly
-officials, often in shirt-sleeves and with club, lounge at all the entrances to the
-town, to levy duty upon any chance donkey-pannier or cart bringing in fruit
-and vegetables for sale. Frequently there are scenes of confusion, sometimes of
-violence. The government is determined that not a turnip, not a carrot, not a
-cabbage shall escape the yield of its due; and it is not to be denied that the
-poor farmer hopes fervently to smuggle in a wine-skin or two&mdash;a dozen of
-eggs, or some other article of price, among his cheaper commodities. As a rule,
-he fails; for, suspicious of over-much gesticulation and protestation, the official
-is quite likely to tumble out sacks, baskets, bundles and bales, and empty every
-one upon the ground, leaving the angry farmer to pick up and load again at
-his leisure.</p>
-
-<p>Andalusia is a brown region stretching gravely between Cadiz and Granada.
-The effect of this landscape, all in low tones, upon natives of the green lands
-of America and England, is most depressing. The soil itself is red, and the
-grass grows so sparsely that the color of the ground crops up, giving impression
-of general sun-blight, broken here and there by the glimmering moonlight
-gray of an olive orchard, or the dark-green of an orange garden. The huts of
-the farmers are built of the red clay; the clothing of the population appears
-to be of the undyed wool of the brown sheep, while to add to the prevailing
-russet hue, the general occupation seems to be that of herding pigs on the
-plains&mdash;and the pigs are hideously brown also. It is said that they derive
-their color from feeding on the great brown bug, or beetle, which abounds in the
-soil. The traveller counts these feeding droves by the dozen, each with two lazy,
-smoking swineherds.</p>
-
-<p>Travelling by rail over the Andalusian levels, one passes a succession of petty
-stations, villages of half a dozen houses each, where the only visible business
-appears to be in the hands of women, in the shape of one or two open-air
-tables, with pitchers and glasses, and a cow or goat tethered near in order to
-supply travellers, as the trains stop, with drinks of fresh milk.</p>
-
-<div class="figcenter">
-<a href="images/fig22big.jpg">
-<img src="images/fig22.jpg" alt="" />
-</a>
-</div>
-
-<div>
-<img class="drop-capp" src="images/fig23.jpg"  alt="" />
-</div>
-
-<p class="drop-capp">MANY of the public buildings of Spanish cities stand as they were
-captured from the Moors. Sometimes, as in Cadiz, the town has
-received a coat of whitewash; but more frequently the only Spanish
-additions and improvements are a few crosses inlaid in the old cement, or a plaster
-Virgin niched, in rude contrast, beside some richly wrought Moorish door of
-horseshoe form. The town hall of Seville remains to-day as ten centuries ago.</p>
-
-<p>The Spanish towns lie, for the most part, in the valley. The Moors usually
-chose the site for their cities with a view to the natural defences of mountain
-and river. The hills of course, remain, but the rivers, once full rushing tides,
-are now dried into stagnant shallow waters, a natural result in a country long
-uncultivated.</p>
-
-<p>A favorite business with the young men among the mountain peasants is the
-breeding of poultry; not alone of fat pullets for the Christmas markets&mdash;that
-is a minor interest so far as enjoyment goes&mdash;but of choice young game cocks&mdash;cock-fighting
-being the staple, everyday national amusement, while the bullfight
-is to be regarded as fête and festival&mdash;“the taste of blood” is a welcome
-ingredient in any Spanish pleasure. All poultry is taken to market
-alive; the pullets, hanging head downwards, are slung in a bunch at the saddle
-bow, and the cocks are carried carefully in cages. Fowls are not a common
-article of food, as in France, but are, instead, a holiday luxury, and the costliest
-meat in the market.</p>
-
-<p>Looking idly abroad as he crosses the Andalusian plains, the tourist on donkey-back
-notices the queer carts that take passengers from one station to another.
-These odd omnibuses are but rude carts, two-wheeled, and covered with coarse
-mats of pampas grass, and they are drawn by two, three, four or five donkeys
-harnessed tandem. On the rough, movable seats, gentlemen in broadcloth, and
-common folk with laced canvas shoes and peasant-bags, huddle together, all eating
-from the garlic-pots as they are passed, and drinking from the same wine-skin;
-this good fellowship of travellers is one of the unwritten laws of Spain. Meantime
-the sauntering boys of the roadside hop up on the cart behind with the
-identical vagrant joy experienced by the American urchin after a like achievement.</p>
-
-<div class="figcenter">
-<a href="images/fig24big.jpg">
-<img src="images/fig24.jpg" alt="" />
-</a>
-</div>
-
-<div>
-<img class="drop-capp" src="images/fig25.jpg"  alt="" />
-</div>
-
-<p class="drop-capp">YOU never can be sure when a Spaniard will arrive. Due at noon,
-should he meet a guitar, he comes at nightfall; and as it is certain
-that every second Spaniard, walking or riding, will have his guitar
-along, it is best not to look for the return of any messenger before
-evening. He may have chosen to alight from his donkey and dance an hour,
-or he may have elected to sit still and clap and snap a dance in pantomime&mdash;either
-is exciting and deeply satisfactory&mdash;and a fulfilment of one of the obligations
-of daily life which no true Spaniard can be expected to neglect for any
-such simple considerations as promise given, command laid, or bargain made.</p>
-
-<p>A peculiarly gloomy look is lent to the Spanish landscape by the cypress,
-sometimes growing in groups, sometimes towering singly in solitude. This tree,
-funereal in its best aspect, has a dead, dry, white trunk, and the branches begin
-at a height of twenty, thirty, or forty feet, and then drape themselves in a
-cone-like monumental mass of purplish green. These gloomy evergreens are common,
-and the tourist feels, even if he does not note, the absence of the lively sunny
-greens of American and French landscapes, with the bowery shadows that everywhere
-invite the wayfarer to stop and rest.</p>
-
-<p>The Bergh Societies would find ample range for work in Spain, for the beating
-and prodding of the donkey is one of the national occupations. As a rule,
-poor Burro is overloaded. A whole family will frequently come down into the
-city on his back, and tired though he be with plodding and stumbling and holding
-back, the officer at the gate is sure to give him a blow and a bruise with
-his bludgeon of authority as he passes in; and the poor creature sometimes very
-justly lies down in the street and dies without warning, allowing his owners to
-climb homeward on foot.</p>
-
-<p>Now and then one comes unexpectedly on an example of ancient enterprise
-put to use. There are spots in the brown waste which are green and fertile,
-because the old irrigating wells have been cleaned out and set in motion&mdash;a
-pair of wheels studded with great cups operated by means of a pair of poles,
-and a pair of donkeys, and a pair of drivers. The land is cut in ditches, and
-often the farmer can be seen hoeing his garlic and his cabbages while he stands
-in water ankle-deep.</p>
-
-<div class="figcenter">
-<a href="images/fig26big.jpg">
-<img src="images/fig26.jpg" alt="" />
-</a>
-</div>
-
-<div>
-<img class="drop-capp" src="images/fig27.jpg"  alt="" />
-</div>
-
-<p class="drop-capp">GREATLY dreaded by the unmarried young Spanish woman is the Beggars’
-Curse; and a goodly portion of the beggars’ revenue is ensured by
-this superstitious national fear. The more vicious of the fraternity
-keep good watch upon the wealthy young señoritas and their cavaliers when
-they go out for pleasure. They do not follow them, perhaps; instead they take
-up their stations around the doors of those restaurants&mdash;whence they never are
-driven&mdash;where ladies and their escorts are wont to stop for chocolate, or
-coffee, or <i>aguardente</i>, on their return from calls or the theatre, or the Bull Ring.
-As the pair are departing, the burly beggar approaches, half barring the way
-perhaps, and asks for alms. It is usually bestowed; but he begs insolently for
-more; and if it be not forthcoming, a bony and rosaried arm is raised, “the
-evil eye” is fastened upon the doomed ones, and the Beggars’ Curse&mdash;the Curse
-of the Unfortunate&mdash;which all Spaniards dread, is threatened; and if it be evening,
-it is quite probable that the group stand near some crucifix of the suffering
-Saviour, with the red light of the street lantern shining down upon its ghastliness,
-so that the feeling of pious dread is greatly heightened, and a frightened pressure
-on the cavalier’s arm carries the doubled alms into the outstretched hand.</p>
-
-<p>The dress of Spanish people of fashion is singularly artistic and pleasing.
-Although Paris styles are now followed by the señoritas, they still cling to the
-national black satin with its lustrous foldings and flouncings, to the effective
-ball fringes, and to the mantilla, draping face and shoulder with its heavy black
-or white laces, the national red rose set just above the ear. Nor is this too
-remarkable under the high broad lights of the Spanish sky, though it might seen
-theatrical in our cold, harsh, Northern atmosphere. The dress of the Spanish
-gentlemen is as picturesque. The hat is usually a curious, double-brimmed silky
-beaver, while the cloak is most artistic in color and in drapery. This cloak,
-lasting a life-time, is of fine broadcloth, lined with heavy blue or crimson velvet;
-and it is so disposed that the folding brings this gorgeous lining in a round collar
-about the neck, while another broad fold is turned over upon the whole long
-left side of the garment. The peasant’s cloak, of the same cut, is lined with red
-flannel, but it is often worn as gracefully. Long trousers are becoming general,
-but in some districts the tight pantaloon, slashed at the knee, is still seen, with
-its gay garter embroidered with some fanciful motto. One just brought from Spain
-bears this legend: <i>There is a girl in this town&mdash;with her love she kills me.</i></p>
-
-<div class="figcenter">
-<img src="images/fig28.jpg" alt="" />
-<p class="caption">WHAT THEY ALL FEAR&mdash;THE BEGGAR’S CURSE.<br />
-MORE! SEÑORITA. MORE!</p>
-</div>
-
-<div>
-<img class="drop-capp" src="images/fig29.jpg"  alt="" />
-</div>
-
-<p class="drop-capp">SOUTHERN Spain is so mountainous that herding naturally becomes
-the occupation of the peasantry, rather than tillage. Great flocks
-of goats browse and frolic among the rocky heights and along
-the steep ravines where it seems hardly possible for the tiny
-hoofs to keep foothold; and the traveller often beholds far above
-him dozens of these bounding creatures, leaping down the cliffs to drink at
-the valley streams. They are generally followed, at the same fearless pace, by
-a short-frocked shepherdess as sure-footed as they. Her rough, hempen-soled
-shoe, however, yields her excellent support, being flexible and not slippery, like
-boot-leather.</p>
-
-<p>Along the narrow mountain highways, the traveller frequently comes upon little
-booths built in among the cliffy recesses, like quaint pantries hewn in the rock.
-Melons, and grapes, and garlic, and oranges in nets, hang against the wall, and
-the heavy red wine of the country is for sale by the glass, also goat’s
-milk.</p>
-
-<p>Farming processes go on at all times of year in Spain. Subsistence is a
-matter comparatively independent of care and calculation. Crops may be sown
-at any time. The whole year round the peasant lights no fire in his earthen,
-bowl-like hut of one room. He cooks outside his door, in gypsy fashion. His
-furniture consists of some rude wool mattresses, a table, and some stools with
-low backs. A few bowls, plates, and knives and forks suffice to set his table. A
-kettle and a garlic pot comprise his cooking utensils. Frequently he and his
-family are to be seen at meals, leaning their elbows on the table in company,
-and sipping like so many cats, from the huge platter of hot garlic soup, crumbling
-their slices of coarse black bread, as they need. In contrast with this crude
-bread of the common people, are the long, fine, sweet white loaves to be had at
-the Seville bakeries&mdash;a bread so cake-like, so delicious, as to require no butter,
-even with Americans accustomed to the use of butter with every meal.
-The salted butter of American creameries, made to keep for months, is wholly
-unknown in Spain, Spanish butter being a soft mass, and always eaten unsalted.
-But with his strong garlic and his fine fragrant tobacco, the Spaniard hardly
-demands or appreciates the refinements of food, and his tobacco is of the best,
-coming from the Spanish plantations in Cuba, and is very cheap, as it enters
-the country free of duties.</p>
-
-<div class="figcenter">
-<img src="images/fig30.jpg" alt="" />
-<p class="caption"><span class="smcap">Sunny Spain</span>: Sewing and Reaping in Winter</p>
-</div>
-
-<div>
-<img class="drop-capp4" src="images/fig31.jpg"  alt="" />
-</div>
-
-<p class="drop-capp">HOUSEWORK, among the sun-basking, siesta-loving Spaniards, seems
-to be not the formidable, systematic matter that it is made in America.
-Washing, as well as cookery, is of simplest form. “Blue Monday”
-does not follow Sunday in Spain. A necessary garment is washed when needed;
-superfluous ones are allowed to accumulate until it is worth while to give a day
-to the task. Then, among the peasants, “the washing” is carried to a mountain
-torrent, and the garments are rubbed and rinsed in the swift waters, while
-picnic fun makes the labor agreeable, as often several families wash in company.
-Among townspeople, the work is done in great stone tubs in the patio, or in the
-water-cellar. There the goods, repeatedly wetted, are laid upon a big stone table
-and beaten with flat wooden paddles. The snowy array of the American clothes-line
-is seldom seen. The washed garments are hung upon the table edges, and
-held fast by stones or other weights until dried.</p>
-
-<p>A frequent incident in mountain travel is the sight of some stout lazy peasant away
-up the heights, holding fast by his donkey’s tail to help himself along as the
-poor creature scrambles up the zigzag steeps. At the base and along the face
-of these rocks cacti grow abundantly, often presenting a beautiful cliff-side of
-cacti fifty feet high.</p>
-
-<p>Another sight, not so agreeable, along many a Spanish roadside, is that of the
-ancient wooden crosses, erected on the sites where travellers have been murdered
-by banditti. These roads are often desolate and dreary beyond description,
-unfenced, seldom travelled, and set with the constantly recurring stones of the
-Moorish road-makers. Leading across brown, treeless wastes, with habitations far
-apart, both peasant and tourist would easily wander from these roads, were it not
-for those rude mile-stones, which are often the only guide-posts and land-marks.
-When a fence is required, a hedge of aloe is usually started.</p>
-
-<p>Spanish children chew sugar-cane as American children munch candy. The
-cane is brought from Cuba and is sold everywhere; carried about by venders in
-big bundles of handy lengths, to capture all stray centimos.</p>
-
-<p>Not so well patronized is the street dealer in soap&mdash;“old Castile” soap&mdash;for this
-business is recognized to be a form of beggary, and though bargains are made
-and money paid, the soap is seldom carried away by the purchaser.</p>
-
-<div class="figcenter">
-<a href="images/fig32big.jpg">
-<img src="images/fig32.jpg" alt="" />
-</a>
-</div>
-
-<div>
-<img class="drop-capp" src="images/fig33.jpg"  alt="" />
-</div>
-
-<p class="drop-capp">EVERY male Spaniard is obliged to render three years of military
-service; but usually this is no severe hardship, and loving his
-ease, he leaves home cheerily enough. The government is rather
-embarrassed than served, in the matter of stationing this soldiery,
-especially since the close of the Carlist War. The conscripts are set to guard
-the palaces, the parks, the national buildings; they are sent to Cuba and
-elsewhere, whenever it is possible, in fact all opportunities and pretexts are seized
-to set up a soldier on duty, or rather a pair of them, as two are usually to be
-seen together. Leave of absence is easily obtained, and but few days of actual
-presence and service are required during the third year. However, the military
-requirements by the government never relax, as “insurrections” are indigenous
-to the country and climate.</p>
-
-<p>As the ancient Moorish doors are still frequent, so is the old form of knock
-and admission. The arrival raps smartly at the small door set within the great
-nail-studded gate. Presently an eye, a face, appears at the little wicket window
-to reconnoitre, to question. Should the examination reveal nothing dangerous or
-disagreeable, the latch-string is pulled, and entrance is permitted.</p>
-
-<p>“Burro” must needs appear in all Spanish picture and story, for he is prominent
-in all Spanish folk-life. He is to be seen everywhere, with his rude harness
-tufted with gay woollens, and big brass nails, moving over the landscape in town
-or country&mdash;the helpless slave and abused burden-bearer, seldom petted, even
-by the children of the family. There are very handsome mules in Madrid and
-a few elsewhere; but the donkey is the national carrier. He is small, brown,
-brave, and always bruised. The Spaniards’ “Get up!” is a brutal blow between
-the eyes. He is seldom stabled, seldom decently fed. He is tethered anywhere&mdash;under
-the grapevine, by the door, among the rocks, but always at his master’s
-convenience; and his food is in matter and manner best known to himself.
-His harness is heavy and uncomfortable, and his hair is clipped close on his
-back where he needs protection most from the burning sun. This clipping is
-usually done at the blacksmith’s, by a professional clipper, and is a sight of
-interest to the lazy populace. Under the great shears Burro’s body is often
-decorated with half moons, eyes, monograms, garlands&mdash;whatever the fancy of
-his master, or the clipper, or the bystander may direct. Poor Burro! from first
-to last&mdash;poor Burro!</p>
-
-<div class="figcenter">
-<a href="images/fig34big.jpg">
-<img src="images/fig34.jpg" alt="" />
-</a>
-</div>
-
-<div>
-<img class="drop-capp" src="images/fig35.jpg"  alt="" />
-</div>
-
-<p class="drop-capp">IN Cordova, a sudden stir in the street often betokens “The Return
-from the Chase”&mdash;not, however, the picturesque scattering of the
-“meet” after an English fox-hunt, but the arrival home of some
-solitary mule and rider, with a pack of harriers. The huntsman has
-been riding across country all by himself, his cigarette, and his dogs,
-to ferret out some luckless colony of hares in a distant olive orchard.
-The rabbits are very mischievous in the young olive plantations, and the huntsman
-and his pack are warmly welcomed by the olive-growers. These Spanish
-harriers are a keen-nosed race of dogs; quite as good hunters as the English
-fox-hounds. Nearly every breed of dog is found in Spain, except, perhaps, the
-Newfoundland. In most Spanish cities the dogs are one of the early morning
-sights as they gather in snarling, quarrelsome packs of from fifteen to twenty,
-before the doors of the hotels and restaurants, to devour the daily kitchen refuse&mdash;a
-very disagreeable spectacle; but there seems to be no other street-cleaning
-machinery.</p>
-
-<p>The chief streets of a Spanish town are usually thronged with fruit-sellers,
-especially the Plaza, where the great portion of the population seems to congregate
-to lounge and sleep in the sun all day long, naturally waking now and
-then to crave an orange, a palmete, or a pomegranate&mdash;“regular meals” appearing
-to be a regulation of daily life quite unknown. These fruit sellers are girls, for
-the most part, though sometimes there may be seen some old man who has
-not been able to procure a beggar’s license. Oranges are always plenty. Palmetes,
-a tender, bulbous growth, half vegetable, half fruit, are brought into the
-city in January, and are consumed largely by the peasants and beggars, who
-strip them into sections, chewing them for their rather insipid sweetish juices.</p>
-
-<p>The Spanish peasant cooks out-of-doors, like a gypsy. Often his kettle is his
-only “stove furniture;” in it he stews, boils, fries and bakes. Even in January,
-the cold month in Spain, he makes no change in his housekeeping. The
-peasants’ daily bread is hardly bread at all, but rather a pudding, a batter of
-coarse flour, water and garlic, stirred, and boiled, and half baked in his kettle, and
-then pressed into a jar. This “garlic pot” he always carries about with him in
-his shoulder bag. In the patio apartments of some of the ancient, Moorish-built
-houses there are quaint arches with stone ovens, which are sometimes utilized
-for cookery.</p>
-
-<div class="figcenter">
-<a href="images/fig36big.jpg">
-<img src="images/fig36.jpg" alt="" />
-</a>
-</div>
-
-<div>
-<img class="drop-capp" src="images/fig37.jpg"  alt="" />
-</div>
-
-<p class="drop-capp">A DRUNKEN Spaniard is rarely seen, although the “wine-skin” keeps
-constant company with the “garlic pot” in the peasant’s bag. The
-heavy red wine of the country is used as freely as water, being sold
-for four cents a wine-skin; this wine-skin holds a quart or more. Not to drink
-with the skin held at arms-length, is to be not Spanish, but French&mdash;their
-generic name for a foreigner or stranger. Fine and delicate wines are made in
-the neighborhood of some of the great vineyards, but they are chiefly for
-exportation.</p>
-
-<p>There is a popular saying, that Spanish ladies dress their hair but once a
-week. This is on Sunday, when they meet on one another’s balconies to chat
-and gossip while their maids arrange their coiffures, each maid taking care that
-she pat, and pull, and puff until her mistress be taller than her friends, for
-height is a Spanish requisite for beauty and style. Certain it is that the tourist
-sometimes looks up and beholds this leisurely out-of-doors toilet-making. The glossy
-black hair is universal, a fair-haired woman becoming an occasion for persistent
-stares, although Murillo, in his time, seems to have found plenty of red-haired
-Spanish blondes to paint. Happy is the gazing traveller if he also may listen;
-for the music of a high-bred Spanish woman’s voice is remarkable, holding in
-its flow, sometimes, the tones of a guitar, and the liquid sounds of dropping
-water.</p>
-
-<p>Spanish urchins are as noted for never combing their hair as Italian boys are
-for never washing their faces. The change of the yellow handkerchief dotted
-with big white eyes, which they knot about their heads and wear day and
-night, seems to be the only attention they think needful ever to bestow upon
-their raven locks.</p>
-
-<p>That Spanish peasant is very poor and unthrifty indeed, who does not contrive
-to own a foot or two of land upon which to grow a choice Malaga grapevine.
-Owning the vines, he erects an out-of-door cellar to preserve his crop&mdash;a
-simple arbor, upon the slats of which he suspends his clusters for winter use.
-Hanging all winter in the current of wind, the bunches of pale-green grapes
-may be taken down as late as February, and still be found as plump and
-delicious and as full of flavor as when hung. It is in this simple manner that
-they are preserved for the holiday markets.</p>
-
-<div class="figcenter">
-<a href="images/fig38big.jpg">
-<img src="images/fig38.jpg" alt="" />
-</a>
-</div>
-
-<div>
-<img class="drop-capp" src="images/fig39.jpg"  alt="" />
-</div>
-
-<p class="drop-capp">ONE of the most picturesque features of natural scenery which the
-traveller comes upon in Southern Spain, is that of the olive orchards,
-especially those which cluster about Cordova. As the time of harvest
-draws near, the coloring of these orchards is particularly pleasing.
-The ripening fruit varies in tint, from vivid greens to gay reds and
-lovely purples, while the foliage, of willow-leaf shape, restless and quivering,
-is of a tender, shimmering, greenish gray, and the trunks often have a solemn
-and aged aspect. Many of these plantations are very ancient indeed, planted
-perhaps by the grandsires of the present owners. They are usually a source of
-much profit, as the best eating olives are those grown in Spain, and though
-the trees come into bearing late, there are orchards which have been known to
-yield fruit for centuries.</p>
-
-<p>Each orchard has a guard, or watchman, who tends it the year round, for
-the pruning, the tillage, and the watch upon the ripening fruit, demand constant
-care. In the harvest season the watch is by night as well as by day, for a
-vigorous shake of the branches will dislodge almost every berry, and a thief,
-with his donkeys and his panniers, might easily and almost noiselessly strip an
-entire orchard in a few hours. The olive guard lives in a hut of thatch or
-grass in summer, and in a sort of cave, or burrow, in winter.</p>
-
-<p>The crop is mainly harvested by girls and women, and the scene is like a
-picnic all day long, for Spanish girls turn all their labors into merry-making
-whenever it is possible to do so. The gray orchards are lighted up with the
-rainbowy colors of the peasant costumes, and the air is musical with the donkey
-bells, while the overseer, prone on the ground with his cigarette, “loafs and
-invites his soul,” evidently finding great delight in the double drudgery he controls&mdash;that
-of the donkeys and the damsels.</p>
-
-<p>In regard to the great age of olive-trees, a recent writer says: “When
-raised from seed it rarely bears fruit under fifty years, and when propagated in
-other ways it requires at least from twenty to twenty-five years. But, on the
-other hand, it lives for centuries. The monster olive at Beaulieu, near Nice, is
-supposed by Risso to be a thousand years old. Its trunk at four feet from the
-ground has a circumference of twenty-three feet, and it is said to have yielded,
-five hundred pounds of oil in a single year.”</p>
-
-<div class="figcenter">
-<a href="images/fig40big.jpg">
-<img src="images/fig40.jpg" alt="" />
-</a>
-</div>
-
-<div>
-<img class="drop-capp" src="images/fig41.jpg"  alt="" />
-</div>
-
-
-<p class="drop-capp">CORDOVA, lying in the beautiful valley of the Guadalquiver, surrounded
-with gardens and villas, is well named the city of Age,
-Mellowness, and Tranquility. It abounds with antiquities, and at
-every turn memories are awakened of old Roman emperors, and
-the Arabian caliphs; the gates, the sculptures, the towers, the mullioned
-windows and nail-studded doors, the galleried houses and their beautiful patios
-fitted for idle life in the soft Andalusian weather, the mosques and the great
-bridges are all of those times. Even the streets are named after the old
-Roman and Spanish scholars and poets.</p>
-
-<p>The large bridge over the Guadalquiver was originally built by the Roman
-Emperor, Octavius Augustus; it was afterwards remodelled by the Arabs.
-The gate is very fine which leads into the gypsy quarter. The Moors had
-three thousand baths on the banks of the river, but in their day it was a full
-shining tide; now it is a muddy current, hardly in need of bridging at all.</p>
-
-<p>The mosques of Cordova are fine, and among them is the greatest
-Moslem temple in the world, with its beautiful chapels, its Court of Oranges,
-and its wondrous grove of marbles. This mosque, now used for Christian
-worship, was erected on the ruins of an old cathedral, which it is said had
-been built upon the site of a Roman temple. The Moslem structure was
-erected by the Caliph Abdurrahman, in the seventh century, and was a hundred
-years in building. The principal entrance is through the Court of Oranges,
-where beautiful palms also grow, and other tropical trees. Thence one emerges
-among a very forest of marble pillars, where countless magnificent naves stretch
-away and intersect, and the shining columns and pilasters spring upward into delicate
-double horseshoe arches. One marble is shown where a Christian captive,
-chained at its base, scratched a cross upon the stone with his nails. In some
-sections the ceiling is dazzling with arabesques and crystals. Within the mosque,
-in its very centre, rises a fine Catholic church, built in the time of Charles
-the Fifth. It contains many illuminated missals and rare old choir books.</p>
-
-<p>The Cordovans, like the people of other Spanish cities, are indebted to the
-Moors for the fine aqueducts which bring the cold mountain water across the
-valley into the public watering places. These great reservoirs are good points
-for observing some phases of folk-life.</p>
-
-<div class="figcenter">
-<a href="images/fig42big.jpg">
-<img src="images/fig42.jpg" alt="" />
-</a>
-</div>
-
-<div>
-<img class="drop-capp" src="images/fig43.jpg"  alt="" />
-</div>
-
-
-<p class="drop-capp">GRANADA, the beautiful city, with beautiful rivers, is named for
-a “grenade” or pomegranate. At the time of the Conquest, King
-Ferdinand on being assured how valiantly the Moors would defend
-their last stronghold, replied, “I will pick out the seeds of this
-grenade one by one.”</p>
-
-<p>There is a tradition among the Moors that when the hand carved over the
-principal entrance of the Alhambra shall reach down and grasp the key, also
-carved there, they shall regain their city, the ancient home of their
-caliphs.</p>
-
-<p>The Generalife lies across the valley from the Alhambra. It was the summer
-palace of the Moorish sovereigns, and is built on a mountain slope by
-the Darro River, and its white walls gleam out from lovely terraced gardens,
-and groves of laurel. The grounds abound with fountains and summer houses.</p>
-
-<p>The Alhambra&mdash;the great royal castle&mdash;a town in itself&mdash;is built on a
-lovely tree-embowered height, its many towers rising high above the mass of
-foliage. From these towers one looks across the vale of the Vega to the spot
-where Columbus is said to have turned back, recalled by Isabella, on his
-way to seek English aid in his discovery of a New World. From these
-towers, too, can be seen the valley in the distance, where Boabdil, last of the
-Moorish Kings, looked back on Granada for the last time; and across the
-river, one gazes upon the sombre region of the gypsy quarter, a swarming
-town of caves in the hillside.</p>
-
-<p>Two relics of Alhambra housekeeping still remain; a great oven, and a fine
-well. Both are utilized by the custodian of the palace. The palace itself has
-many beautiful patios. The finest is known as the Court of Lions, named from
-the sculptured figures which support the fountain in the centre. Another is
-known sometimes as the Court of the Lake, and sometimes as the Court of
-the Myrtles; and still another, entered by subterranean ways, is the Hall of
-Divans, the special retreat of the Favorites. There are many others, and all
-these patios and halls are bewilderingly beautiful with arabesques, mosaics,
-inscriptions and wondrous arches and columns, porticos, vistas, alcoves and
-temples&mdash;and everywhere elegance of effect indescribable.</p>
-
-<div class="figcenter">
-<a href="images/fig44big.jpg">
-<img src="images/fig44.jpg" alt="" />
-</a>
-</div>
-
-<div>
-<img class="drop-capp" src="images/fig45.jpg"  alt="" />
-</div>
-
-<p class="drop-capp">AT Granada, whenever it is desired, the proprietor of the Washington
-Irving Hotel will engage the Gypsy King to come with his
-daughters and dance the national dance at the house of one of
-the guides. This dance is a most wild and weird performance.
-There is an incessant clapping of hands and clatter of castañets, a sharp
-stamping of heels, an agonized swaying of the body and the arms; and often
-the castañets and guitar are accompanied by a wild and mournful wail from
-the dancers. The king of the Granada gypsies is said to be the best guitar
-player in Spain.</p>
-
-<p>The climb from the city up to the vast Gypsy Quarter, known as the
-suburb of the Albaycin, is an adventure of a nightmare sort. The squalor and
-horror of the life to be witnessed on the way up along narrow streets swarming
-with the weirdest and dirtiest of brown beggars, may not be painted, may not be
-written; yet now and then one goes under a superb Arab arch, passes a door
-rich with arabesques, or comes upon a group of elegant columns supporting a
-roof of mud and rock. The long hillside seems honeycombed with the denlike
-habitations of the gitanos, many of whom, among the men, are blacksmiths,
-while others work at pottery, turning out very handsome plates and water jars,
-while the women weave cloth, and do a rude kind of embroidery, all selling
-their wares in the streets&mdash;in fact the spinning and weaving and sewing is
-often carried on in the street itself.</p>
-
-<p>But the little ones too (<i>las niñas</i>) add largely to the family income, as they dance
-for the visitor; the traveller and his guide being always invited to enter the
-caves. These gypsy children dance with much spirit, and they also sing many
-beautiful old ballads of Spanish prowess. The most beautiful ones among the
-girls are early trained to practice fortune-telling.</p>
-
-<p>With their dances, their songs, their fortune-telling, their importunate, imperious
-begging, and their rude industries, these Granada gypsies live here from century to
-century, in swarms of thousands, never attempting to improve their condition,
-but boasting, instead, of the comfort of their dismal caves as being cool in
-summer and warm in winter. It is plain that they consider themselves and their
-Quarter “a part of the show,” and hardly second in interest to the Alhambra
-itself.</p>
-
-<div class="figcenter">
-<a href="images/fig46big.jpg">
-<img src="images/fig46.jpg" alt="" />
-</a>
-</div>
-
-<div>
-<img class="drop-capp" src="images/fig47.jpg"  alt="" />
-</div>
-
-
-<p class="drop-capp">HARDLY is there a Spanish town of note, that does not possess its
-great Bull Ring; and there are scores of inferior Bull Circuses
-throughout Spain. There is but a slight public sentiment against
-the brutal sport which is the favorite Sunday recreation of the whole
-nation. Spanish kings and queens for many centuries have sat in the royal
-boxes to applaud, and many of the Spanish noblemen of the present time
-breed choice fighting bulls on their farms, and there is the same mad admiration
-of the agile, skilful <i>espado</i> or bull slayer, as a hundred years ago. To be
-a fine <i>picador</i> or <i>banderillo</i>, is to be sure of the praise and the presents of the
-entire populace. Men, women and children go; the amphitheatre is always
-crowded and always the crowd will sit breathless and happy to see six or
-eight bulls killed, and three times that count of horses&mdash;the rich and the
-nobles on the shady side under the awnings, the peasants sweltering and
-burning in the sun. It is the <i>picador</i> who rides on horseback to invite with
-his lance the attacks of the bull as he enters the arena; it is the <i>capeador</i>
-who springs into the arena with his cloak of maddening red or yellow, to distract
-the bull’s attention from the fallen horseman; it is the <i>banderillo</i> who
-taunts the wounded creature with metal-tipped arrows, the barbs of which
-cannot be extracted, or with his long pole leaps tauntingly over the back of
-the confused creature; but it is the gorgeous <i>espado</i> with his sword, entering
-the arena, at last, who draws all eyes. With his red flag he plays with the
-bull as a cat with the mouse, until the amphitheatre is mad for life blood; then
-with a swift, graceful stroke he ends all, his superb foe lies dead, and he turns
-from him to meet the wild shower of hats, cigars, flowers, fans, purses that
-beats upon him from all sides&mdash;it is a scene of unimaginable exultation, for
-there are glad cries and plaudits, and royalty itself throws the bull-slayer a
-golden purse and a pleased smile, and the beautiful Spanish señoritas lavish
-upon him the most bewildering attentions.</p>
-
-<p>The Spanish boy is born with a thirst for this sport. Their favorite game
-is <i>Toro</i>. One lad mounts on his fellow’s back to take the part of the <i>picador</i>
-and his horse; another, with horns of sticks, represents the bull; and the rest
-are <i>capeadors</i>, <i>banderillos</i>, and <i>escodas</i>, while the audience of adult loungers look
-on with fierce excitement. It is in this fierce, popular street sport that the
-future champions of the Bull Ring are trained and developed&mdash;to be an <i>escoda</i>
-is usually the height of a Spanish boy’s ambition.</p>
-
-<div class="figcenter">
-<a href="images/fig48big.jpg">
-<img src="images/fig48.jpg" alt="" />
-</a>
-</div>
-
-<div>
-<img class="drop-capp" src="images/fig49.jpg"  alt="" />
-</div>
-
-<p class="drop-capp">NOWHERE in Spain are you refreshed with the restful sound of water,
-sometimes soft, sometimes gay, as in Granada. You hear the flow of
-the Darro over its stones and rocks, you hear the splash of fountains,
-the gay hurry of mountain brooks, the soft sound of springs&mdash;everywhere
-flow, or gurgle, or drip. You hear it on the tree-bordered and bowered
-Alameda in your moonlit walks, and you hear it through the windows of your
-<i>fonda</i>, or hotel, when you wake. It is everywhere about the Alhambra heights,
-and the Generalife terraces. The Spaniards call this continuous water-sound,
-“The Sigh of the Moor.”</p>
-
-<p>Most of the young Spanish women as well as the men, are accomplished
-guitar-players. The guitar belongs in story to the Señorita, along with her
-mantilla and her fan. It usually hangs on her casement, brave with ribbons
-and gay wool tufts and all manner of decorations, and by moonlight she will
-come out upon the balcony to answer her cavelier’s serenade with a song as
-sweet as his own. You feel the atmosphere of the Spanish night vibrating all
-about you, as you stroll along the moonlit street, with the low, soft, delicate
-twinkle of a hundred guitars, the players half-hidden in the dim patio
-balconies.</p>
-
-<p>It is often the custom to drive the goats from door to door to be milked, and
-often an accustomed goat, tinkling its bells, will go along the street, stopping
-of its own will and knowledge at the doors of its customers, and knocking
-smartly with its horns should no one appear. The servant of the house comes
-out into the street and milks the desired quantity, while the “milkman”
-lounges near by with his cigarette.</p>
-
-<p>Often it is as amusing to watch the dogs of the beggars by the
-churches as the men themselves. While the noble <i>Caballeros</i>, Don Miguel and
-Don Pedro, exhausted with the saying of prayers and the much asking of
-centimos, have fallen asleep in the shade, their respective dogs remain
-awake to glare at each other with true professional jealousy, and to growl and
-snap, should a chance stranger drop a coin in one hat and not in the other.
-The beggar is the last sight, as well as the first, which greets the traveler in
-Spain.</p>
-
-<div class="figcenter">
-<a href="images/fig50big.jpg">
-<img src="images/fig50.jpg" alt="" />
-</a>
-</div>
-
-<div class="figcenter1">
-<img src="images/fig51.jpg" alt="" />
-</div>
-
-<hr class="full x-ebookmaker-drop" />
-
-<div class="chapter">
-<h2 class="nobreak" id="c2">QUEEN LOUISA AND THE CHILDREN.</h2>
-</div>
-
-<hr class="r5" />
-<p class="c more">BY MARY STUART SMITH.</p>
-<hr class="r6" />
-
-<p class="drop-cap">QUEEN LOUISA of Prussia was the mother of
-William I., Emperor of Germany, and although
-she has been dead over sixty years her one hundredth
-birthday was celebrated elaborately throughout
-her son’s dominions,
-with almost
-as many rejoicings
-as we made
-here over the one
-hundredth birthday
-of these United
-States.</p>
-
-<p>When a child
-Louisa was very
-beautiful, and as she
-grew up did not disappoint
-the promise
-of those early days.</p>
-
-<p>She was married
-to Frederick William,
-Crown Prince
-of Prussia, when only
-seventeen years of
-age, and brought
-down upon herself a
-sharp rebuke from
-the proud mistress
-of ceremonies for
-the love she showed
-to a little child as
-she was making her
-public entry into
-Berlin, preparatory
-to the solmnization
-of her marriage. It
-happened thus:</p>
-
-<p>The streets were thronged with people who had
-come to catch a glimpse of the fair young bride,
-while every now and then select persons would step
-forward and present complimentary poems of welcome,
-or some pretty gift. A sweet little girl advanced
-to give the queen a bunch of flowers, and
-Louisa was so struck with the child’s loveliness that
-she stooped down and kissed her on the forehead.
-“Mein Gott!” exclaimed
-the horrified
-mistress of ceremonies.
-“What has
-your majesty done?”
-Louisa was as artless
-and simple as a child
-herself. “What?”
-said she, “is that
-wrong? Must I
-never do so again?”</p>
-
-<p>But the prince,
-her husband, was no
-fonder of show and
-ceremony than herself,
-and asserted
-manfully the right
-of his wife and himself
-to act like other
-affectionate people,
-in spite of being king
-and queen.</p>
-
-<div class="figcenter">
-<img src="images/fig52.jpg" alt="" />
-<p class="caption">QUEEN LOUISA.</p>
-</div>
-
-<p>This royal pair
-had eight children,
-and upon these
-children was lavished
-every care and
-attention. It is said
-that every night the
-king and queen went
-together to visit their
-sleeping children after
-they had been put into their little beds, and many
-a time were they surprised by a bright pair of wide-awake
-eyes smiling back upon them a look of love in
-return. Queen Louisa used to say, “The children’s
-world is my world,” nor were the little creatures slow
-to reciprocate the love she gave.</p>
-
-<p>You know Christmas is observed in Germany
-with peculiar reverence, and is a season set apart for
-mirthful recreation among all classes, but more especially
-for the enjoyment of children. Berlin is gay
-with Christmas trees and a brilliant array of toys
-etc., for at least a week beforehand.</p>
-
-<p>Like other parents the king and queen found delight
-in preparing pleasant surprises for their little
-ones. While engaged in choosing presents for them,
-on one occasion they entered a top-shop where a
-citizen’s wife was busy making purchases, but recognizing
-the new-comers she bowed respectfully and
-retired. The queen addressed her in her peculiarly
-winning way and sweet voice. “Stop, dear lady,
-what will the stall-keeper say if we drive away his
-customers?” She then inquired if the lady had come
-to buy toys for her children, and asked how many
-little ones she had. Hearing there was a son about
-the age of the Crown Prince, the queen bought some
-toys and gave them to the mother, saying, “Take
-them, dear lady, and give them to your crown prince
-in the name of mine.”</p>
-
-<p>But I must tell you a yet prettier story, showing the
-queen’s fondness for making children happy.</p>
-
-<p>There lived in Berlin a father and mother, who from
-some cause were so poor, and low-spirited besides,
-that when the holiday came which all children love
-best, they quietly resigned themselves to having nothing
-to give their little ones. What can be more sad
-than a house which no Kriss Kringle visits? Just
-think of it! They told their children that there was
-to be no Christmas tree for them this year. The little
-boy and his sister had been led to believe that the
-<i>Christ-kind</i> or Christ-child provides the tree and
-the gifts which are placed on tables round it; only
-ornaments, sweets and tapers are hung upon the
-branches. Under this disappointment the children, in
-the innocent simplicity of their faith, sought the aid of
-the good <i>Christ-kind</i> in their own way.</p>
-
-<p>Christmas Eve came, and the poor troubled parents
-looked on with wonder as they beheld their children
-hopping and skipping about with joy, although they
-were to be the only children for whom no Christmas
-tree would be lighted, nor pretty gifts provided.
-Still in high spirits they watched at the window, and
-clapped their hands when the door-bell rang, exclaiming:
-“Here it comes!” The door was opened and a
-man-servant appeared, laden with a gay tree and
-several packets, each addressed to some member of
-the family.</p>
-
-<p>“There must be some mistake!” said the mother.</p>
-
-<p>“No, no!” cried the boy, “it is all right. I wrote
-to the good <i>Christ-kind</i>, and told him what we wanted,
-and that you could not buy anything this year.”</p>
-
-<p>The parents enjoyed the evening with their children
-and afterwards unravelled the mystery. The
-postmaster, astonished by a letter evidently written
-by a very young scribe and addressed to the <i>Christ-kind</i>,
-had sent it to the palace with a respectful inquiry
-as to what should be done with a letter so strangely
-directed. Queen Louisa read it and, as a handmaid
-of the <i>Christ-kind</i>, she answered his little children.<a id="FNanchor_1" href="#Footnote_1" class="fnanchor">[1]</a></p>
-
-<div class="footnote">
-
-<p class="less"><a id="Footnote_1" href="#FNanchor_1" class="label">[1]</a> Mrs. Hudson’s Life of Queen Louisa.</p>
-
-</div>
-
-<p>Louisa’s sympathies were ever ready to flow for
-the sorrows of childhood, which so many grown people
-will not stoop to even notice.</p>
-
-<p>One day as the king and queen were entering a
-town, a band of young girls came forward to strew
-flowers and to present a nosegay. Her majesty inquired
-how many little girls there were. “Nineteen,”
-replied the artless child; “there would have
-been twenty of us but one was sent back home because
-she was too ugly.”</p>
-
-<p>The kind queen feeling for the child’s mortification
-sent for her and requested that she might by all
-means be allowed to join in the festivities of the day.</p>
-
-<p>Nor did Louisa slight the boys.</p>
-
-<p>She was one day walking in the streets of Charlottenburg,
-attended by a lady-in-waiting; a number
-of boys were running and tumbling and playing
-somewhat rudely, and one of them ran up against the
-queen. Her lady reproved him sharply, and the
-little fellow looked frightened and abashed. The
-queen patted his rosy cheek, saying: “Boys will be
-a little wild; never mind, my dear boy, I am not
-angry.” She then asked his name and bade him
-give her compliments to his mother. The child knew
-who the lady was, and besides having the pleasant
-memory of her gracious speech and looks received
-a lesson in politeness which he never forgot.</p>
-
-<p>Sometimes the royal children were allowed to have
-a party, and this indulgence young princes and princesses
-enjoy just as much as other juveniles. A
-queer anecdote is told of the only daughter of the
-famous Madame de Stael, in relation to one of these
-entertainments.</p>
-
-<p>The little lady was about ten years of age, but
-had already imbibed many opinions and prejudices.
-At all events she had a high idea of her own importance,
-and was totally wanting in respect for her
-superiors in rank. She was apt to be very rude in
-her manners and in her remarks. On this occasion
-she took offence at something which the little Crown
-Prince said or did to her, and very coolly gave him
-a sharp box on the ear, upon which he ran crying to
-his mother and hid his face in the folds of her dress.
-As mademoiselle, when remonstrated with, showed
-not a particle of concern, and refused to say she was
-sorry, she was not invited again, and her learned
-mamma found that she must keep her daughter at
-home until she taught her better manners.<a id="FNanchor_2" href="#Footnote_2" class="fnanchor">[2]</a></p>
-
-<div class="footnote">
-
-<p class="less"><a id="Footnote_2" href="#FNanchor_2" class="label">[2]</a> Sir George Jackson.</p>
-
-</div>
-
-<p>The annual fair at Paretz, the king’s beloved country
-home, took place during the merry harvest-time.
-A number of booths were then put up near the village,
-and besides buying and selling there was a
-great deal or dancing and singing going on, and all
-sorts of games and sports. It was then that the
-wheel of fortune was turned for the children’s lottery.
-Lots of cakes and fruit were set round in order, which
-were given away according to the movements of a
-pointer, turned by the wheel.</p>
-
-<p>Queen Louisa encouraged the children to crowd
-around her on these occasions; she could not bear
-to see them afraid of her, and placed herself beside
-the wheel, in order to secure fair play and to watch
-carefully that she might make some amends for the
-unkindness of fortune. She had her own ample
-store of good things which she dispensed among the
-unlucky children, many of whom thought more of the
-sweet words and looks of the queen than of anything
-else she could give them. Moreover she was
-glad to have a chance of leading even one of her little
-subjects to be generous and self-denying. For, while
-she liked to see them all happy, she at the same
-time interested herself in giving pleasantly little
-hints as to conduct that might be of lasting benefit.</p>
-
-<p>All her life Queen Louisa watched beside the
-wheel in a higher sense. She overlooked the whole
-circle of which she was the centre, anxiously seeking
-to hold out a helping hand to any whom she saw
-likely to be ruined by losses in the great lottery of
-real life.</p>
-
-<p>Is it matter for wonder then that German children
-still cherish her memory, and delight to place
-flowers upon vase or tomb that bears her name?</p>
-
-<hr class="tb" />
-
-<div class="figcenter">
-<img src="images/fig53.jpg" alt="" />
-</div>
-
-<hr class="full x-ebookmaker-drop" />
-
-<div class="chapter">
-
-
-<h2 class="nobreak" id="c3">THE PLAYTHING OF AN EMPRESS.</h2>
-</div>
-
-<hr class="r5" />
-<p class="c more">BY M. S. P.</p>
-<hr class="r6" />
-
-
-
-
-<p class="drop-cap">DOUBTLESS the readers of <span class="smcap">Grammar School</span>
-have heard it said that “Men and Women are
-only children of a larger growth.” No matter how
-stately the grand ladies that we often meet with may appear,
-you may be very sure that they sometimes envy the
-pleasures of children, who have no thoughts about
-fine houses and servants, and a hundred other cares.
-Even wearing a crown does not bring happiness; the
-dignity it entails often becomes burdensome.</p>
-
-<p>Once a young prince, who had everything that he
-could possibly want given him,&mdash;books, jewels, playthings
-of inconceivable variety, horses and dogs, in
-fact all the nice things that you can imagine to bring
-him pleasure,&mdash;was observed by his attendants to be
-standing by the window, crying. When asked the
-cause of his tears he replied that he was unhappy because
-he could not join the boys in the street who
-were making mud pies!</p>
-
-<p>The Indians who use the bow and arrow say that
-the proper way to keep the strength of their bows is
-to unstring them after use and let them relax. So it
-is with those whose minds or bodies are engaged in one
-long strain of work; they must be relaxed or they become
-useless. The late Pope of Rome was a very
-dignified old man, and was also surrounded by
-learned and great men. He rode in a gilded coach
-drawn by four horses, and was in public a very grand
-and stately person. But I read the other day that
-the old gentleman and some of his cardinals were
-once seen playing ball in his garden, for the purpose
-of amusing a little boy.</p>
-
-<p>More than a hundred years ago the great country
-east of Germany, known as Russia, was ruled by the
-Empress Anne. It is a very cold country and the
-winter is very long. The capital is St. Petersburg,
-and through it the river Neva runs. This river
-freezes in winter, and the ice is frequently so solid
-that it will bear up an army of several thousand men
-with all their heavy guns and mortars, and these be
-discharged without so much as cracking the ice.</p>
-
-<p>At the close of the year 1739, during an extremely
-cold winter, the empress ordered one of her architects
-to build an <i>Ice Palace</i>. The great square in front
-of the royal palace was chosen for its site. Blocks of
-the clearest ice were selected, carefully measured
-and even ornamented with architectural designs.
-They were raised with cranes and carefully placed in
-position, and were cemented together by the pouring
-of water over them. The water soon froze and
-made the blocks one solid wall of ice. The palace
-was fifty-six feet long, seventeen and one half feet
-wide, and twenty-one feet high. Can you imagine
-anything more beautiful than such a building made
-of transparent ice and sparkling in the sun?</p>
-
-<p>It was surrounded by a balustrade, behind which
-were placed six ice cannon on carriages. These cannon
-were exactly like real metal ones, and were so
-hard and solid that powder could be fired in them.
-The charge used was a quarter of a pound of powder
-and a ball of oakum. At the first trial of the
-cannon an iron ball was used. The empress with all
-her court was present, and the ball was fired. It
-pierced a plank two inches thick at a distance of
-sixty feet.</p>
-
-<p>Besides these six cannon in front of the palace
-there were two ice mortars which carried iron balls
-weighing eighty pounds with a charge of one quarter
-of a pound of powder. Then, too, there were two
-ice dolphins, from whose mouths a flame of burning
-naptha was thrown at night with most wonderful effect.
-Between the cannon and dolphins, in front of
-the palace, there was a balustrade of ice ornamented
-with square pillars. Along the top of the palace
-there was a gallery and a balustrade which was ornamented
-with round balls. In the centre of this stood
-four beautiful ice statues.</p>
-
-<p>The frames of the doors and windows were painted
-green to imitate marble. There were two entrances
-to the palace, on opposite sides, leading into a square
-vestibule which had four windows. All the windows
-were made of perfectly transparent ice, and at night
-they were hung with linen shades on which grotesque
-figures were painted, and illuminated by a great number
-of candles.</p>
-
-<p>Before entering the palace one naturally stopped
-to admire the pots of flowers on the balustrade, and
-the orange trees on whose branches birds were perching.
-Think of the labor and patience required to
-make such perfect imitations of nature <i>in ice</i>!</p>
-
-<p>Standing in the vestibule, facing one entrance and
-having another behind, one could see a door on
-either hand. Let us imagine ourselves in the room
-on the left. It is a sleeping-room apparently, but if
-you stop to think that every article in it is made of
-ice you will hardly care to spend a night there;
-and yet it is said that two persons actually slept on
-the bed there for an entire night. On one side is a
-toilet-table. Over it hangs a mirror, on each side of
-which are candelabra with ice candles. Sometimes
-at night these candles were lit by being dipped in
-naptha. On the table is a watch-pocket, and a variety
-of vases, boxes, and ornaments of curious and
-beautiful design. At the other side of the room we
-see the bed hung with curtains, furnished with sheets
-and a coverlid and two pillows, on which are placed
-two night-caps. By the side of the bed on a foot-stool
-are two pairs of slippers. Opposite the bed is
-the fireplace which is beautifully carved and ornamented.
-In the grate lie sticks of wood also made
-of ice, which are sometimes lighted like the candles
-by having naptha poured over them.</p>
-
-<p>The opposite room is a dining-room. In the centre
-stands a table on which is a clock of most wonderful
-workmanship. The ice used is so transparent
-that all the wheels and works are visible. On each
-side of this table two beautifully carved sofas are
-placed, and in the corners of the room there are statues.
-On one side we see a sideboard covered with a
-variety of ornaments. We open the doors and find
-inside a tea-set, glasses and plates which contain a
-variety of fruits and vegetables, all made of ice but
-painted in imitation of nature.</p>
-
-<p>Let us now go through the opposite door and notice
-the other curious things outside the palace. At
-each end of the balustrade we see a pyramid with an
-opening in each side like the dial of a clock. These
-pyramids are hollow, and at night a man stands inside
-of them and exhibits illuminated pictures at the
-grand openings.</p>
-
-<p>Perhaps the greatest curiosity of all is the life-like
-elephant at the right of the palace. On his back sits
-a Persian holding a battle-axe, and by his side stand
-two men as large as life. The elephant, too, is hollow,
-and is so constructed that in the daytime a
-stream of water is thrown from his trunk to a height
-of twenty-four feet, and at night a flame of burning
-naptha. In addition to this, the wonderful animal is
-so arranged that from time to time he utters the most
-natural cries. This is done by means of pipes into
-which air is forced.</p>
-
-<p>On the left of the palace stands a small house,
-built of round blocks of ice resembling logs, interlaced
-one with another. This is the bath-house,
-without which no Russian establishment is complete.
-This bath-house was actually heated and used on several
-occasions.</p>
-
-<p>When this wonderful ice-palace was completed it
-was thrown open to the public, and such crowds came
-to see it that sentinels were stationed in the house to
-prevent disorder.</p>
-
-<p>This beautiful palace stood from the beginning of
-January until the end of March. Then, as the
-weather became warmer, it began to melt on the south
-side; but even after it lost its beauty and symmetry as
-a palace it did not become entirely useless, for the
-largest blocks of ice were transferred to the ice-houses
-of the imperial palace, and thus afforded
-grateful refreshment during the summer, as well as a
-pleasant reminder of “<i>The Plaything of an Empress</i>.”</p>
-<hr class="full x-ebookmaker-drop" />
-
-<div class="chapter">
-
-
-<h2 class="nobreak" id="c4">CHARLIE’S WEEK IN BOSTON.</h2>
-</div>
-
-<hr class="r5" />
-<p class="c more">BY CHARLES E. HURD.</p>
-<hr class="r6" />
-
-
-
-
-<p class="drop-cap">CHARLIE was going to Boston.</p>
-
-<p>The ceaseless clatter of his little copper-toed
-boots over all the bare places in the house, and the
-pertinacious hammering he kept up upon everything
-capable of emitting sound, rendered it impossible for
-his mamma or the new baby to get any rest, and so
-it was that the decision came about. Aunt Mary,
-who had lent her presence to the household for the
-preceding fortnight, was to return home the following
-day, and with her, after infinite discussion, it was
-decided that he was to go for a week.</p>
-
-<p>The momentous news was withheld from Charlie
-until the next morning, for fear of the result upon his
-night’s sleep, but it was injudiciously let out by Aunt
-Mary before breakfast, the effect being to at once
-plunge the young gentleman into the highest state of
-excitement. He had played “go to Boston” a thousand
-times with his little cart and wheelbarrow, but
-to take such a journey in reality was something he
-could hardly imagine possible.</p>
-
-<p>“Am I going to Boston, real ’live?” he wildly inquired.
-“Where’s my rubber boots, and my little
-chair, and my cart, and I want my piece of gum
-mamma tooked away, and where’s my sled?”</p>
-
-<p>“But, Charlie,” said Aunt Mary, persuasively, “you
-are not going now, and you don’t want to take all
-those things. There isn’t any snow in Boston, and
-good little boys don’t chew gum. You must have
-some breakfast.”</p>
-
-<p>“I don’t want any breakfast. I want to go to Boston.
-I got to go, now you said so.”</p>
-
-<p>“Yes, but you must have something to eat first.
-It would make you sick to ride so far without eating.
-And then you must have a nice bath, and put on
-your new suit that papa bought last week. You’ve
-plenty of time.”</p>
-
-<p>But Charlie, generally good to mind, was thoroughly
-demoralized by the new turn in affairs, and
-had to be brought to the table by main force.</p>
-
-<p>“It’s like taking a horse to water,” said Aunt
-Mary. “You can get him to the trough, but you
-can’t make him drink without he likes. Charlie,
-have a nice large griddle-cake?”</p>
-
-<p>Griddle-cakes were Charlie’s weak point, but in a
-time like this he rose superior to the temptation.</p>
-
-<p>“Don’t want griddle-cakes; don’t want bread;
-don’t want toast; don’t want anything. I want to
-get right down out of my little chair, and go to Boston,
-awful quick!”</p>
-
-<p>“The child will be down sick if he goes away on
-an empty stomach,” said grandma from her bedroom,
-where she could see all that transpired at the
-table. “Can’t you make him eat?”</p>
-
-<p>“It’s all very well to say ‘Make him eat,’ but he
-won’t,” said Aunt Mary. “You might just as well
-make a squirrel sit down and eat in a respectable
-manner.”</p>
-
-<p>“Let him go till he gets hungry, then,” said his
-father. “He’ll come to it soon enough. There’s no
-danger of his starving.”</p>
-
-<p>If Charlie had been a grown man, with whiskers,
-and going to some European Court as Minister Extraordinary,
-he couldn’t have felt the importance of
-his prospective journey more, or been more weighed
-down by the preparations for it. The train which
-was to carry him did not start until two o’clock, and
-in the six hours which intervened his little tongue was
-in constant motion, and his little feet tramping up and
-down stairs, “getting ready.”</p>
-
-<p>“But you’re only going to stay for a week, you
-know, Charlie,” said Aunt Mary, dismayed at the heap
-of toys he had industriously gathered in a corner of
-the sitting-room for transportation, “and you’ll see
-so many pretty things that you won’t care for any of
-these.”</p>
-
-<p>“I want to carry my wheelbarrow. I will be cross
-if I don’t carry my wheelbarrow. And my cunnin’
-little cunnin’ watlin’ pot, and my high chair, and some
-more.”</p>
-
-<p>But Aunt Mary couldn’t get them into her trunk,
-and the railroad man wouldn’t let Charlie take them
-into the cars. “Put them all away nicely, and then
-Charlie will have them when he comes home.”</p>
-
-<p>It required a great deal of judicious argument,
-intermingled with promises, to gain the point, and
-final success was only achieved by a formal agreement,
-to which grandma was made a witness, by virtue of
-which Charlie was to become the possessor of “a
-speckled rocking-horse, just like Johnny Baker’s,
-with real hair ears, and a tight tail, that boys couldn’t
-pull out.” This compact having been made, Charlie
-submitted to the washing and dressing process with
-comparative good grace.</p>
-
-<p>An exceedingly light dinner preceded the start,
-varied by excursions to the front door to see if the
-depot stage was coming. It came at last, and, after
-the leave-taking, Charlie and Aunt Mary were packed
-in among half a dozen others. The whip cracked,
-the coach gave a sudden lurch, and then dashed
-down the street at the heels of the horses, who seemed
-anxious to get to the station at the earliest possible
-moment. There was just time to get tickets and seats
-before the train started.</p>
-
-<p>If Charlie was unmanageable before, he was doubly
-so now. At every stopping-place he made desperate
-efforts to get out of the car, and once or twice, in
-spite of Aunt Mary’s efforts, very nearly succeeded.
-He dropped his hat out of the window; he dirtied
-his face beyond redemption with dust and cinders;
-he put cake crumbs down the neck of an old lady
-who had fallen asleep on the seat just in front, and
-horrified the more staid portion of the passengers in
-the car by a series of acts highly inconsistent with
-the rules of good breeding, and the character of a
-nice boy.</p>
-
-<p>Boston was reached at last, and the perils of procuring
-a hack and getting safely home in it were
-surmounted. So thankful was Aunt Mary that she
-could have dropped upon her knees on the sidewalk
-in front of the door; but she managed to control her
-feelings, paid the hackman his dollar, still keeping a
-tight grip upon Charlie, and, despite his struggles to
-join the distant audience of a hand-organ, managed
-to get him safely into the house, where he was at
-once delivered over to the other members of the
-household.</p>
-
-<p>“I never, never, <i>never</i> will go out of the house with
-that child again!” she declared, half crying, and
-sinking into a chair without taking her bonnet off.
-“He’s enough to kill anyone outright. No wonder
-they wanted to get rid of him at home! It’ll be a
-mercy if he don’t drive us all crazy before the week
-is out. One thing is certain, they’ll have to send for
-him. <i>I’ll</i> never take him home again.”</p>
-
-<p>“Why didn’t you drug him, Aunt Mary,” asked
-Tom, with a great show of sympathy. “<i>I</i> would.”</p>
-
-<p>“I declare I would have done anything, if I had
-only known how he was going to act! You may
-laugh and think it’s all very funny, but I just wish
-you’d some of you try it yourselves. Where is he
-now? If he’s out of sight a single minute he’ll be in
-some mischief. There he goes now!”</p>
-
-<p>The last declaration of Aunt Mary was preceded
-by a series of violent bumps, followed by a loud
-scream from the bottom of the basement stairs. A
-grand rush to the spot revealed Charlie lying at the
-foot, beating the air with his legs, with a vigor that
-at once dispelled all fears as to his serious injury.
-He was picked up and borne into the kitchen by the
-cook, where the gift of a doughnut soon dried his
-tears, and he was returned to the sitting-room to
-await the ringing of the bell for tea.</p>
-
-<p>“Has he had a nap to-day?” asked grandmother.</p>
-
-<p>“Nap! I should think the child would be dead for
-want of sleep. I don’t believe he’s winked to-day!”</p>
-
-<p>“He looks like it now, anyway,” said Tom, who
-was holding him in his arms.</p>
-
-<p>Sure enough, his eyelids were beginning to droop,
-and a moment after the half-eaten doughnut dropped
-from his loosened fingers upon the carpet.</p>
-
-<p>“Carry him up to my room, Tom, and lay him
-upon my bed. Don’t for mercy’s sake hit his head
-against anything. We shan’t have any peace if he
-gets awake again.”</p>
-
-<p>Slowly and carefully Tom staggered under his little
-burden up-stairs, and laid it upon the clean white
-coverlet of Aunt Mary’s bed.</p>
-
-<p>“That will do,” said Aunt Mary, who had followed
-close behind. “He’s thoroughly tired out, and no
-wonder. You may go down now and I will take care
-of him, dear little fellow.”</p>
-
-<p>With careful fingers she untied the laces of his little
-boots, and pulled them off. The stockings came
-next, and the hot little feet were released from confinement.
-The tiny jacket was then removed, the
-tangled hair put back, and then, with a sponge wet in
-cool water, the dirty, sweaty little face was softly
-bathed until it became quite presentable again.</p>
-
-<p>“There!” she said at last, surveying him with a
-feeling of satisfaction, “he will sleep at least a couple
-of hours. By that time I shall get rested, and can
-manage him better. I suppose it’s because he’s so
-tired, and everything is new.”</p>
-
-<p>With this apology for Charlie in her heart, and a
-half remorseful feeling for her lately displayed impatience,
-she descended the stairs to the dining-room,
-where the rest of the family were already seated at
-the table.</p>
-
-<p>A few minutes later, and while she was deep in an
-account of matters and things at Charlie’s home, the
-cook came up-stairs in something of a fluster.</p>
-
-<p>“Plaze, ma’am, there’s something on the house.”</p>
-
-<p>“Something on the house?”</p>
-
-<p>“Yes. McKillop’s boarders across the way are all
-at the windows, an’ the men is laughin’ and the
-women frightened.”</p>
-
-<p>With one accord a sudden and informal adjournment
-to the parlor window was made, the result being
-a verification of the cook’s statement.</p>
-
-<p>“What on earth can be the matter?” said grandmother.</p>
-
-<p>At this moment Mrs. McKillop, after a series of
-incomprehensible gestures, which nobody could translate
-with any clearness, dispatched her girl across the
-street.</p>
-
-<p>“There’s a child, ma’am,” she exclaimed, in breathless
-excitement, “a baby, walking about on the outside
-of your house like a fly! he’s&mdash; Howly Father!”</p>
-
-<p>This sudden exclamation was caused by the descent
-of a flower pot, which, coming with the swiftness of a
-meteor, missed the head of the speaker by less than
-a hand’s-breadth, and crashed into a thousand pieces
-on the front steps.</p>
-
-<p>The situation was taken in at once. With a succession
-of screams Aunt Mary flew up the stairs two
-at a time. By this a crowd was rapidly gathering.</p>
-
-<p>“Bring out something to catch him in if he falls,”
-shouted a fat old gentleman, pushing his way to the
-front.</p>
-
-<p>Grandmother caught a tidy from the arm of the
-sofa, and, snatching a volume of Tennyson from the
-centre-table, rushed frantically into the street, closely
-followed by Tom with a feather duster.</p>
-
-<p>A single glance told the whole story. There sat
-Charlie, utterly innocent of clothing save a shirt of
-exceeding scantness, on the very edge of the broad
-projection below the third-story window, his legs dangling
-in space, watching with delighted interest the
-proceedings of the excited crowd in the street below.
-No one knows what might have happened, for, at that
-moment, while a hot discussion was being carried on
-among the gathered spectators, as to the propriety of
-sounding a fire alarm for a hook and ladder company,
-the arms of Aunt Mary came through the window,
-and closed upon him like a pair of animated pincers.
-There was a brief struggle, productive of a perfect
-shower of flower-pots, and then, amid a hurricane of
-shouts and cheers, the little white body and kicking
-legs disappeared within the room. When, two minutes
-later, the entire household, with a fair sprinkling
-of the McKillop boarders, had reached the scene,
-they found Charlie shut up in the wardrobe, and Aunt
-Mary in hysterics, with her back against the door.</p>
-
-<p>“If he stays here a week we shall have to board up
-the windows, and keep a policeman,” said grandmother,
-that night, after Charlie had been guarded
-to sleep on the sitting-room lounge, with the door
-locked. “We shall have to have watchers for him,
-for I would no more dare to go to sleep without some
-one awake with him than I would trust him with a
-card of matches and a keg of gunpowder. And that
-makes me think: we musn’t leave matches where he
-can get them; and, father, you’ll have to go down
-town the first thing in the morning, and see about an
-insurance.”</p>
-
-<p>Notwithstanding the universally expressed fears,
-Charlie slept like a top all night, and really behaved
-so well the next morning that it was deemed safe to
-give him an airing, and introduce him to the sights of
-Boston. Right after dinner he was taken in hand,
-and dressed and curled and frilled as he never had
-been before, creating serious doubts in his own mind
-as to whether he was really himself, or another boy of
-about the same size and general make.</p>
-
-<p>At half-past two o’clock the party set out, Aunt
-Mary on one side, tightly grasping Charlie’s hand, and
-on the other a female friend, especially engaged for
-the occasion. Tom followed on behind as a sort of
-rear guard, ready to be called upon in case of emergency.</p>
-
-<p>First the Public Garden was visited. Hardly had
-half the circuit of the lake been made, when Charlie,
-attracted by one of the gayly painted boats which was
-moored a few feet from the shore, broke loose and
-made a sudden dash to reach it, to the utter ruin of
-his stockings and gaiters. In vain Aunt Mary coaxed
-and remonstrated and threatened; in vain she attempted
-to hook him out with the handle of her parasol;
-he was just out of reach and he kept there. He
-was brought out by one of the gardeners at last, who
-seemed to look upon
-it as an excellent
-joke. Tom,
-who had lagged behind,
-was sent back
-after dry stockings
-and Charlie’s second-best
-shoes,
-which, when
-brought, were
-changed in the vestibule
-of the Public
-Library, and the
-line of march again
-taken up. The
-deer on the Common
-were fed,
-Punch and Judy
-viewed and criticized,
-and the thousand
-and one various
-objects in the
-vicinity visited.
-Charlie was delighted
-with everything,
-but through
-and above all one
-grand desire and
-determination rode rampant&mdash;the desire and determination
-to enter into possession of the promised,
-but as yet unrealized, “wocking-horse.”</p>
-
-<div class="figcenter">
-<img src="images/fig54.jpg" alt="" />
-<p class="caption">“<span class="smcap">Mounted upon the back of the largest and realest looking horse.</span>”</p>
-</div>
-
-
-<p>Down Winter Street to Washington, in the great,
-sweeping crowd of men, women and children; past
-the gorgeous dry goods stores; past candy and apple
-stands; past all sorts of strange and funny and bewildering
-things, Charlie was slowly dragged, a helpless
-and unwilling prisoner. He only broke silence once.
-Passing a window filled with braids and chignons, and
-doubtless taking them for scalps, he inquired with
-considerable interest if “Indians kept store there.”</p>
-
-<p>“Oh! what a lovely silk!” ejaculated Aunt Mary’s
-friend, coming to a sudden stop before one of the
-great dry goods emporiums on Washington Street.</p>
-
-<p>Aunt Mary stopped, too. The pattern was too
-gorgeous to be lightly passed. She raised her hand
-to remove her vail, forgot her charge for a moment,
-and when she looked again Charlie had disappeared.</p>
-
-<p>“Charlie! Charlie! Why, where is he?” she exclaimed,
-pale with
-fright. “I thought
-you had hold of
-him!”</p>
-
-<p>“I dropped his
-hand not a minute
-ago, to be sure my
-pocket hadn’t been
-picked. I thought
-you would look out
-for him.”</p>
-
-<p>In vain they
-searched; in vain
-they questioned
-clerks and policemen
-and apple-women.
-Nobody had
-seen such a boy,
-and yet everybody
-seemed to think
-that they certainly
-should remember
-if they had. It
-was now half past
-four. And Tom,
-who might have
-helped them so
-much, was gone!</p>
-
-<p>“Perhaps,” suggested a pitying apothecary’s clerk,
-with a very small moustache and very smooth hair,
-“perhaps the young man Tom has taken him home.”</p>
-
-<p>There was a small spark of comfort in this suggestion
-and, though unbelieving, the two hurried homewards,
-only to find Tom sitting on the doorstep, lazily
-fanning himself, and hear his surprised ejaculation:</p>
-
-<p>“Why! what have you done with Charlie?”</p>
-
-<p>“He’s lost!” said Aunt Mary, bursting into tears.
-“He’ll get run over, or carried away, or something
-terrible will happen to him. I shall never have
-another minute’s peace while I live!”</p>
-
-<p>Tom listened impatiently to the details of the
-story, told by both together, and, tossing his fan into
-the hall, started down the steps.</p>
-
-<p>“Don’t fret till I come back. He’s all right somewhere,
-and I’ll bring him home with me.”</p>
-
-<p>“I’m going back. I can’t stay here. I can help
-search,” said Aunt Mary, still in tears, and her loyal
-companion avowed her determination to stand by her.</p>
-
-<p>Tom had hurried away without stopping to listen,
-and was now out of sight; but the two wretched
-women, heated, footsore and wearied, followed resolutely
-after. The scene of the mysterious disappearance
-was at last reached, and again the oft repeated inquiries
-were made, but with the same result.</p>
-
-<p>“Here is where I was intending to bring him,” said
-Aunt Mary, pausing mournfully before the window of
-a toy-bazar crowded with drums, guns, trumpets and
-wooden monkeys. “He had talked so much about
-his rocking-horse, the poor lost lamb! And now&mdash;”</p>
-
-<p>The sentence was never finished, for, with a half
-hysterical shriek, she dropped her parasol upon the
-sidewalk and rushed into the store, where the apparition
-of a curly head of flaxen hair, slowly oscillating
-back and forth, had that instant caught her eye. It
-was Charlie, sure enough, in the highest feather,
-mounted upon the back of the largest and realest-looking
-horse in the entire stock of the establishment,
-whose speed he was endeavoring to accelerate by the
-aid of divers kicks and cluckings, while the proprietor
-and unemployed clerks looked admiringly on.</p>
-
-<p>Aunt Mary, despite her regard for appearances,
-hugged him and cried over him without stint, and
-finally made a brave attempt to scold him, but her
-heart failed her, at the very outset.</p>
-
-<p>“He’s been here nigh upon two hours,” said the
-proprietor, as he made change for the coveted horse.
-“He came in alone and went right to that horse, and
-there he’s stuck ever since. I don’t let boys handle
-’em much without I know they’re going to buy, but
-he made me think so much of a little fellow I lost a
-year ago that I let him do just as he liked.”</p>
-
-<p>No mishap occurred in getting Charlie home this
-time. The toyman’s boy was sent for a hack, and,
-with the rocking-horse perched up by the side of
-the driver, and the doors tightly closed, nothing happened
-beyond what happens to ordinary boys who
-are carried about in hacks. Some little difficulty was
-experienced in getting him out on arrival home, for
-it appeared that he had formed the plan on the way
-of taking his horse into the coach and making a tour
-of the city by himself. He could not in any manner
-be satisfied of the impossibility of such an arrangement,
-and was at last taken out in a high state of indignation
-by the driver, who expressed a vehement
-wish to himself that “<i>he</i> had such a young one!”
-Nothing took place worthy of mention before bed-time,
-with the exception, perhaps, of the breaking of
-the carving-knife, and the ruin of Aunt Mary’s gold
-pen in an attempt to vaccinate his new acquisition.</p>
-
-<p>For three days peace&mdash;comparative peace&mdash;reigned
-in the household. From morning till night, in season
-and out of season, Charlie was busy with his horse,
-astride of it, or feeding it, or leading it to water, or
-punishing it for imaginary kicks and bites, and so
-keeping out of mischief; but with the dawn of the
-fourth he awoke, apparently for the first time, to a
-realization of the fact that he was not lying in his own
-little bed, and a sudden flood of homesickness rolled
-over his soul, drowning out rocking-horse, hand-organs,
-Tom’s music-box, and each and every Bostonian delight
-which, until that moment, had led him captive.</p>
-
-<p>From that moment his mourning was as incessant
-and obstinate as that of Rachael. He sat on the
-top stair, and filled the house with wailings. Cakes,
-candy and coaxings were alike in vain, and even a
-desperate promise of Tom’s&mdash;to show him a whole
-drove of elephants, had no more effect upon him, to
-use the cook’s simile, “than the wind that blows.”</p>
-
-<p>“No human being can endure it any longer,”
-declared grandma, and in that statement every member
-of the household cordially agreed.</p>
-
-<p>That fact having been established without discussion,
-but one thing remained to do; to get him
-home in as good condition as when he left there.</p>
-
-<p>“One can hardly do that,” said Tom. “He’s got
-a rag on every finger but one, and I don’t know how
-much court-plaster about him.”</p>
-
-<p>Notwithstanding, the afternoon train saw Charlie
-on board, under the double guardianship of Aunt
-Mary and Tom, and at five o’clock he was in his
-mother’s arms.</p>
-
-<p>“The silence in the house was a thousand times
-worse than the sound of his little feet,” she said, with
-her eyes full of tears, “and made me think of that
-possible time when I should never hear them any
-more.”</p>
-
-<div class="figcenter">
-<img src="images/fig55.jpg" alt="" />
-<p class="caption">Johnny’s a drummer and drums for thᵉ King.<br />
-<span class="gesperrta"><i>MDC*VII</i></span></p>
-</div>
-
-
-<hr class="full x-ebookmaker-drop" />
-
-<div class="chapter">
-
-<h2 class="nobreak" id="c5">A WONDERFUL TRIO.</h2>
-</div>
-
-<hr class="r5" />
-<p class="c more">BY JANE HOWARD.</p>
-<hr class="r6" />
-
-
-
-<p class="drop-cap">IN a little stone hut among the mountains lived
-Gredel and her son Peterkin, and this is how
-they lived: They kept about a dozen goats; and all
-they had to do was to watch them browse, milk them,
-and make the butter and cheese, which they partly
-ate and partly sold down in the village, or, rather,
-exchanged for bread. They were content with bread,
-butter, and cheese; and all they thought about was
-the goats. As for their clothes, it would be impossible
-to speak of them with patience. They had no
-ambition, no hope, no thought beyond the day, and
-no sense of gratitude towards yesterday. So they
-lived, doing no harm, and effecting little good; careless
-of the future, and not honestly proud of anything
-they had done in the past.</p>
-
-<p>But one day Gredel (who was the widow of a
-shepherd that had dropped over the edge of a cliff)
-sat slowly churning the previous day’s milk, while
-Peterkin sat near her, doing nothing at all, thinking
-nothing at all, because he had nothing to ponder over,
-and looking at nothing at all, for the goats were an
-everyday sight, and they took such capital care of
-themselves that Peterkin always stared away over
-their heads.</p>
-
-<p>“Heigho!” suddenly exclaimed Gredel, stopping
-in her churning; and Peterkin dropped his stick,
-looked at his mother slowly, and obediently repeated,
-“Heigho!”</p>
-
-<p>“The sun rises,” said Gredel, “and the sun sets;
-the day comes, and the day goes; and we were yesterday,
-and we are to-day, and we shall be for some
-tomorrows; and that is all, all, all.”</p>
-
-<p>Said Peterkin, “Mother, what is there in the
-world?”</p>
-
-<p>“Men and women,” repeated the wise parent;
-“goats, and many other things.”</p>
-
-<p>“But is it the end of life to get up, watch goats,
-eat and drink, and fall asleep again? Sometimes I
-wonder what is on the other side of the hill.”</p>
-
-<p>“Who can say what is the end of life?” asked
-slow-thoughted Gredel. “Are you not happy?”</p>
-
-<p>“Yes. But there is something more.”</p>
-
-<p>“Do you not love me&mdash;your mother?”</p>
-
-<p>“Yes. But still I think&mdash;think&mdash;think.”</p>
-
-<p>“Love is enough,” said Gredel, who had passed
-more than half way through life, and was content to
-rest.</p>
-
-<p>“Then it must be,” said Peterkin, “that I want
-more than enough.”</p>
-
-<p>“If so, you must be wicked,” remarked Gredel;
-“for I am at peace in loving you, and you should be
-content in loving me. What more do you want?
-You have enough to eat&mdash;a warm bed in winter&mdash;and
-your mother who loves you.”</p>
-
-<p>Peterkin shook his head.</p>
-
-<p>“It will rain to-night,” said Gredel; “and you will
-be warm while many will be shivering in the wet.”</p>
-
-<p>Gredel was quite right; for when the sun had set,
-and the heavens were all of one dead, sad color,
-down came the rain, and the inside of the hut looked
-very warm and comfortable.</p>
-
-<p>Nevertheless, Peterkin still thought of the something
-beyond the mountain, and wondered what it
-might be. Had some wise one whispered in his ear,
-he must have learnt that it was healthy ambition,
-which helped the world and the worker at the same
-time.</p>
-
-<p>Soon it began to thunder, and Peterkin lazily
-opened the wooden shutters to look at the lightning.</p>
-
-<p>By this time Gredel, having thanked Providence
-for a large bowl of black bread steeped in hot goat’s
-milk, was nodding and bobbing towards the flaming
-wood fire.</p>
-
-<p>“Mother mother! here comes something from this
-world!”</p>
-
-<p>“And what comes from the world?”</p>
-
-<p>“Something like three aged women, older than
-you are a very great deal. Let me wait for another
-flash of lightening. Ha! The first has a big stick;
-the second has a great pair of round things on her
-eyes; and the third has a sack on her back, but it is
-as flat as the palm of my hand, and can have nothing
-in it.”</p>
-
-<p>“Is there enough bread, and cheese, and milk,
-and salt in the house?&mdash;We must consider.”</p>
-
-<p>“Aye,” answered Peterkin; “there
-is plenty of each and all.”</p>
-
-<p>“Then let them come in, if they
-will,” said Gredel. “But they shall
-knock at the door first, for we go not
-out on the highways and in the byways
-to help others. Let them come
-to us&mdash;good. But let us not go to
-them, for they have their business,
-and we have ours; and so the world
-goes round!”</p>
-
-<p>“They are near the door,” whispered
-Peterkin, “and very good old
-women they look.”</p>
-
-<p>The next moment there was a very
-soft and civil tapping at the door.</p>
-
-<p>“Who goes there?” asked Peterkin.</p>
-
-<p>“Three honest old women,” cried a
-voice.</p>
-
-<p>“And what do three honest old
-women want?” called Gredel.</p>
-
-<p>“A bit of bread each,” replied the
-voice, “a mug of milk each, and one
-corner for all three to sleep in until
-in the morning up comes the sweet
-yellow sun.”</p>
-
-<p>“Lift up the latch,” said Gredel.
-“Come in. There is bread, there is
-milk, and a corner laid with three
-sacks of thistle down. Come in, and
-welcome.”</p>
-
-<p>Then up went the latch, and in
-stepped the three travellers. Gredel
-looked at them without moving; but
-when she saw they were pleasant in
-appearance&mdash;that their eyes were
-keen in spite of their many wrinkles,
-and that their smiles were very fresh and pleasant
-notwithstanding the lines about their mouth, lazy but
-good-hearted Gredel got up and made a neat little
-bow of welcome.</p>
-
-<p>“Are you sisters?” she asked.</p>
-
-<p>“We are three sisters,” answered the leader, she
-who carried the stick. “I am
-commonly called Sister Trot.”</p>
-
-<div class="figcenter">
-<img src="images/fig56.jpg" alt="" />
-<p class="caption">IN STEPPED THE THREE.</p>
-</div>
-
-<p>“And I,” said the second,
-who wore the spectacles, “am
-commonly called Sister Pansy.”</p>
-
-<p>“And I,” added the third, who carried the bag,
-“am styled Sister Satchel.”</p>
-
-<p>“Your mother and father must have been a good-looking
-couple,” said Gredel, smiling.</p>
-
-<p>“They were born handsome,” quoth Trot, rearing
-her head proudly, “and they grew handsomer.”</p>
-
-<p>“How came they to grow handsomer?” asked
-Peterkin, who had been standing in a corner.</p>
-
-<p>“Because they were brisk and hurried about,”
-replied Pansy, “and never found the day too long.
-But pray, sir, who are you?”</p>
-
-<p>“I am Peterkin, son of Gredel.”</p>
-
-<p>“And may I ask what you do?” inquired Trot.</p>
-
-<p>“Watch the goats.”</p>
-
-<p>“And what do you do when you watch the goats?”</p>
-
-<p>“Look about.”</p>
-
-<p>“What do you see when you look about?” asked
-Sister Pansy.</p>
-
-<p>“The sky, and the earth, and the goats.”</p>
-
-<p>“Ah!” said Pansy, “it is very good to look at the
-sky, and truly wise to look at the earth, while it is
-clever to keep an eye on the goats; but Peterkin&mdash;Peterkin&mdash;you
-do not look far enough!”</p>
-
-<p>“And when you look about,” queried Sister
-Satchel, “what do you pick up?”</p>
-
-<p>“Nothing,” said Peterkin.</p>
-
-<p>“Nothing!” echoed the visitor. “What! not even
-an idea?”</p>
-
-<p>“What is an idea?” asked Peterkin.</p>
-
-<p>“Oh, oh, oh!” said the three sisters. “Here is
-Peterkin, who not only never picks up an idea, but
-actually does not know what one is!”</p>
-
-<p>“This comes of not moving about,” said Trot.</p>
-
-<p>“Of not looking about,” said Pansy.</p>
-
-<p>“And of not picking up something every day,”
-said Satchel. “And a worse example I, for one,
-never came across.”</p>
-
-<p>“Nor I!” “Nor I!” echoed the other sisters.</p>
-
-<p>Whereupon they all looked at Peterkin, and seemed
-dreadfully serious.</p>
-
-<p>“Why, whatever have I done?” he demanded.</p>
-
-<p>“That’s just it!” said the sisters. “<i>What</i> have
-you done?”</p>
-
-<p>“Nothing!” exclaimed Peterkin, quite with the
-intention of justifying himself. “Nothing at all!”</p>
-
-<p>“Ah!” said Trot, “<i>that</i> is the truth, indeed; whatever
-else may be wrong&mdash;done nothing at all!”</p>
-
-<p>“Nothing!” “Nothing!” repeated Satchel and
-Pansy, in a breath.</p>
-
-<p>“Dear me!” said Peterkin.</p>
-
-<p>Whereupon Gredel, half-frightened herself, and
-partly indignant that her boy should be lamented
-over in this uncalled-for manner, said, “Would you
-be pleased to take a seat?”</p>
-
-<p>“Certainly!” said Trot. “Still I, for one, would
-not think of such a thing until your stools were
-dusted.”</p>
-
-<p>Gredel could <i>not</i> believe her eyes, for actually Trot
-raised one end of her stick and it became a brush,
-with which she dusted three stools.</p>
-
-<p>“I think, too,” said Sister Pansy, looking out
-sharp through her spectacles, “that if we were to
-stop up that hole in the corner we should have less
-draught. As a rule, holes are bad things in a house.”</p>
-
-<p>So off she went, and stopped up the hole with a
-handful of dried grass she took from a corner.</p>
-
-<p>“Bless me!” said Satchel; “here are four pins on
-the floor!”</p>
-
-<p>Whereupon she picked up the pins and popped
-them into her wallet. Meanwhile Gredel looked on,
-much astonished at these preceedings.</p>
-
-<p>“I may as well have a rout while I am about it,”
-said Trot, beginning at once to sweep up.</p>
-
-<p>“Cobwebs in every corner!” cried Pansy; and
-away she went, looking after the walls.</p>
-
-<p>“No wonder you could not find your wooden
-spoon,” remarked Satchel; “why, here it is, most
-mysteriously up the chimney!”</p>
-
-<p>There was such a dusting, sweeping, and general
-cleaning as the place had never seen before.</p>
-
-<p>“This is great fun!” said Peterkin; “but how it
-makes you sneeze!”</p>
-
-<p>“Here, dame Gredel,” cried Satchel; “I have
-picked up all the things you must have lost for the
-last three years. Here is your thimble; and now
-you can take the bit of leather off your finger. Here
-are your scissors, which will cut cloth better than
-that knife; and here is the lost leg of the third stool&mdash;so
-that I can now sit down in safety.”</p>
-
-<p>“Why,” exclaimed Peterkin, “the place looks
-twice as large as it did, and ten times brighter.
-Mother, I am glad the ladies have come.”</p>
-
-<p>“I am sure, ladies,” said the good woman, “I
-shall never forget your visit.”</p>
-
-<p>To tell the truth, however, there was something
-very ambiguous in Gredel’s words.</p>
-
-<p>“There!” said Trot; “and now I can sit down in
-comfort to my bread and milk.”</p>
-
-<p>“And very good bread and milk, too,” said Satchel.
-“I think, sisters, we are quite fortunate to fall upon
-this goodly cot.”</p>
-
-<p>“Yes,” remarked Trot, “they are not bad souls,
-this Gredel and Peterkin; but, they sadly want mending.
-However, they have good hearts, and you know
-that those who love much are forgiven much; and
-indeed I would sooner eat my supper here than in
-some palaces you and I, sisters, know something
-about.”</p>
-
-<p>“Quite true!” assented the others, “quite true!”
-And so they went on talking as though they had
-been in their own house and no one but themselves
-in the room. Gredel listened with astonishment, and
-Peterkin with all his ears, too delighted even to be
-astonished.</p>
-
-<p>“Now this,” thought he, “comes of their knowing
-something of what goes on beyond the Great Hill as
-far away as I can see.”</p>
-
-<p>“Time for bed,” suddenly said Dame Trot, who
-evidently was the leader, “if we are to see the sun
-rise.”</p>
-
-<p>The sisters then made themselves quite comfortable,
-and tucked up their thistle-down beds and
-home-spun sheets with perfect good humor.</p>
-
-<p class="gtb">. . . . . . . .</p>
-
-<p>Peterkin awoke cheerily, and he was dressed even
-before the sun appeared. He made the fire, set the
-table, gave the place a cheerful air, and then opened
-the door to look after the goats, wondering why he
-felt so light and happy. He was soon joined by the
-three sisters, who made a great to-do with some cold
-water and their washing.</p>
-
-<p>“Is it good to put your head souse in a pail?”
-asked Peterkin.</p>
-
-<p>“Try it,” replied Dame Trot.</p>
-
-<p>So by this time, quite trusting the old women, he
-did so, and found his breath gone in a moment.
-However, he enjoyed breathing all the more when he
-found his head once more out of the pail, and after
-Pansy had rubbed him dry with a rough towel,
-which she took out of Satchel’s wallet, he thought he
-had never experienced such a delightful feeling as
-then took possession of him. Even since the previous
-night he felt quite a new being, and alas! he
-found himself forgetting Gredel&mdash;his mother Gredel,
-who loved him and taught him only to live for to-day.</p>
-
-<p>“And shall I show you down the hill-side?” asked
-Peterkin, when the three sisters had taken their porridge
-and were sprucing themselves for departure.</p>
-
-<p>“Yes,” said dame Trot, “and glad am I thou hast
-saved us the trouble of asking thee.”</p>
-
-<p>“A good lad,” remarked Pansy to Gredel, “but he
-must look about him.”</p>
-
-<p>“Truly,” said Satchel. “And, above all, he must
-pick up everything he comes across, when he can do
-so without robbing a neighbor, and he may steal all
-his neighbor <i>knows</i>, without depriving the gentleman
-of anything.”</p>
-
-<p>Then Peterkin, feeling as light as a feather, started
-off down the hillside, the three old sisters chatting,
-whispering, and chuckling in a very wonderful manner.
-So, when they were quite in the valley, Peterkin
-said, “Please you, I will leave you now, ladies;
-and many thanks for your coming.” Then he very
-civilly touched his tattered cap, and was turning on
-his battered heels, when Sister Trot said, “Stop!”
-and he turned.</p>
-
-<p>“Peterkin,” she said, “thou art worth loving and
-thinking about, and for your kindness to us wanderers
-we must ask you to keep something in remembrance
-of our visit. Here, take my wonderful stick
-and believe in it. You know me as Trot, but grown-up
-men call me the Fairy Work-o’-Day.” Peterkin
-made his obeisance, and took the stick.</p>
-
-<p>“I will never lose it!” said he.</p>
-
-<p>“You never will,” said Trot, “after once you know
-how to use it.”</p>
-
-<p>“Well,” said sister Pansy, “I am not to be beaten
-by my sister, and so here are my spectacles.”</p>
-
-<p>“I shall look very funny in them,” said Peterkin,
-eyeing them doubtfully.</p>
-
-<p>“Nay; nobody will see them on your nose as you
-mark them on mine. The world will observe their
-wisdom in your eyes, but the wires will be invisible.
-By-the-by, sister Pansy is only my home-name; men
-call me Fairy See-far; and so be good.”</p>
-
-<p>“As for me,” said the third sister, “I am but the
-younger of the family. I could not be in existence
-had not my sisters been born into the world. I am
-going to give you my sack; but take heed, it were
-better that you had no sack at all than that you should
-fill it too full; than that you should fling into it all
-that you see; than that you should pass by on the
-other side when, your sack being full, another human
-being, fallen amongst thieves, lies bleeding and wanting
-help! And now know that, though I am sometimes
-called Satchel, my name amongst the good
-people is the Fairy Save-some.”</p>
-
-<p>“Good by,” suddenly said the three sisters. They
-smiled, and instantly they were gone&mdash;just like
-<i>Three Thoughts</i>.</p>
-
-<p>So he turned his face towards home, with sorrow in
-his heart as he thought of the three sisters, while hope
-was mixed with the sadness as he glanced towards
-the far-off mountain which was called Mons Futura.</p>
-
-<p>Now, Peterkin had never cared to climb hillsides,
-and, therefore he rarely went down them if he could
-help it, always lazily stopping at the top. But now
-the wonderful stick, as he pressed it upon the ground,
-seemed to give him a light heart, and a lighter pair of
-heels, and he danced up the hillside just as though
-he were holiday-making, soon reaching home.</p>
-
-<p>“See, mother,” said Peterkin, “the good women
-have given me each a present&mdash;the one her stick, the
-second her glasses, and the third her wallet.”</p>
-
-<p>“Ho!” said Gredel. “Well, I am not sorry they
-are gone, for I am afraid they would soon have made
-you despise your mother. They are very pleasant old
-people no doubt, but rude and certainly ill-bred, or
-they would not have put my house to rights.”</p>
-
-<p>“But it looked all the better for it.”</p>
-
-<p>“It looked very well as it was.”</p>
-
-<p>“But the world goes on and on,” said Peterkin.</p>
-
-<p>Gredel shook her head. “Humph!” she said, “a
-stick, an old pair of spectacles, and a sack not worth
-a dime! When people give gifts, let them be gifts
-and not cast-offs.”</p>
-
-<p>“Anyhow,” said Peterkin, “I can tell you that the
-stick is a good stick, and helps you over the hill
-famously. I will keep it, and you may have the sack
-and the spectacles.”</p>
-
-<p>“Let us try your spectacles,” cried Gredel. “<i>Oh!</i>”
-she said, trying them on carelessly. “These are the
-most wonderful spectacles in the world,” she went on;
-“but no more civil than those three old women.”</p>
-
-<p>“What do you mean, mother?”</p>
-
-<p>“I see you, Peterkin&mdash;and a very sad sight, too.
-Why, you are lazy, careless, unwashed, and stupid;
-and a more deplorable object was never seen by honest
-woman.”</p>
-
-<p>Poor Peterkin blushed very much; but at this point,
-his mother taking off the glasses, he seized and placed
-them before his own eyes. “<i>Oh!</i>” he exclaimed.</p>
-
-<p>“What now?” asked Gredel in some alarm.</p>
-
-<p>“Now I see you as you are&mdash;and a very bad
-example are you to set before your own son! Why,
-you are careless, and love me not for myself but yourself,
-or you would do your best for me, and send me
-out in the world.”</p>
-
-<p>“What? And dare you talk to your mother in such
-fashion? Give me the spectacles once more!” and
-she clapped them on again. “Bless me!” she continued,
-“the boy is quite right, and I see I am selfish,
-and that I am making him selfish&mdash;a very pretty
-business, indeed! This is to be thought over,” she
-said, laying aside the spectacles.</p>
-
-<p>By this time Peterkin had possessed himself of the
-stick, and then, to his amazement, he found it had
-taken the shape of a spade.</p>
-
-<p>“Well,” said he, “as here is a spade I think I will
-turn over the potato-patch.” This he did; and coming
-in to breakfast he was admonished to find how
-fine the milk tasted. “Mother,” said he, “here is a
-penny I have found in the field.”</p>
-
-<p>“Put it in the bag,” said Gredel.</p>
-
-<p>He did so, and immediately there was a chink.</p>
-
-<p>Over he turned the sack, and lo! there were ten
-pennies sprinkled on the table.</p>
-
-<p>“Ho, ho,” said Peterkin, “if, now, the bag increases
-money after such a pleasant manner, I have but to
-take out one coin and cast it in again, and soon I
-shall have a fortune.” He did so; but he heard
-no chinking. He inverted the bag again, and out
-fell the one coin he had picked up while digging the
-potato-patch.</p>
-
-<p>“This, now, is very singular,” he said; “let me
-put on the spectacles.” This done, “Ha!” he cried,
-“I see now how it is. The money will never grow in
-the sack, unless one works hard; and then it increases
-whether one will or not.”</p>
-
-<p>Meanwhile Gredel, taking up the stick, it took the
-shape of a broom, and upon the hint she swept the
-floor. Next, sitting down before Peterkin’s clothes,
-the stick became a needle, and she stitched away
-with a will.</p>
-
-<p>So time rolled on. The cottage flourished, and
-the garden was beautiful. Then a cow was brought
-home, and it was wonderful how often fresh money
-changed in the wallet. Gredel had grown handsomer,
-and so also had Peterkin. But one day it came to
-pass that Peterkin said: “Mother, it is time I went
-over the great hill.”</p>
-
-<p>“What! canst thou leave me?”</p>
-
-<p>“Thou didst leave thy father and mother.”</p>
-
-<p>Gredel was wiser than she had been, and so she
-quietly said: “Let us put on the spectacles. Ah!
-I see,” she then said, “a mother may love her son,
-but she must not stand in his way as he goes on in
-the world, or she becomes his enemy.”</p>
-
-<p>Then Peterkin put on the spectacles. “Ah! I
-see,” said he, “a son may love his mother, but his love
-must not interfere with his duty to other men. The
-glasses say that every man should try and leave the
-world something the better for his coming; that many
-fail and but few succeed, yet that all must strive.”</p>
-
-<p>“So be it,” said Gredel. “Go forth into the world,
-my son, and leave me hopeful here alone.”</p>
-
-<p>“The glasses say that the sense of duty done is the
-greatest happiness in the world,” said Peterkin.</p>
-
-<p>Then Gredel looked again through the glasses.</p>
-
-<p>“I see,” said she; “the glasses say it is better to
-have loved and lost than never to have loved at all.
-Go forth into the world, my son: we shall both be
-the happier for having done our duty.”</p>
-
-<p>So out into the world went Peterkin.</p>
-
-<p>What else is there to tell? Why, who can write of
-to-morrow?</p>
-
-<p>By the way, you should know that amongst the
-very wise folk sister Trot is known as “Industry,”
-sister Pansy as “Foresight,” while honest Satchel is
-generally called “Economy.”</p>
-
-<div class="figcenter">
-<img src="images/fig57.jpg" alt="" />
-<p class="caption">Out For the Afternoon</p>
-</div>
-
-
-<hr class="full x-ebookmaker-drop" />
-
-<div class="chapter">
-
-<div class="figcenter" id="c6">
-<img src="images/fig58.jpg" alt="" />
-</div>
-
-
-<h2 class="nobreak">TWO FORTUNE-SEEKERS.</h2>
-</div>
-
-
-<hr class="r5" />
-<p class="c more">BY ROSSITER JOHNSON.</p>
-<hr class="r6" />
-
-
-<p class="drop-cap">ONE afternoon I went over to see Fred Barnard,
-and found him sitting on the back steps,
-apparently meditating.</p>
-
-<p>“What are you doing?” said I.</p>
-
-<p>“Waiting for that handkerchief to dry,” said he,
-pointing to a red one with round white spots, which
-hung on the clothes-line.</p>
-
-<p>“And what are you going to do when it’s dry?”
-said I.</p>
-
-<p>“Tie up my things in it,” said he.</p>
-
-<p>“Things! What things?”</p>
-
-<p>“O, such things as a fellow needs when he’s traveling.
-I’m going to seek my fortune.”</p>
-
-<p>“Where are you going to seek it?” said I.</p>
-
-<p>“I can’t tell exactly&mdash;anywhere and everywhere.
-I’m going till I find it.”</p>
-
-<p>“But,” said I, “do you really expect to turn over
-a stone, or pull up a bush, or get to the end of a
-rainbow, and find a crock full of five-dollar gold
-pieces?”</p>
-
-<p>“O, no!” said Fred. “Such things are gone by
-long ago. You can’t do that nowadays, if you ever
-could. But people do get rich nowadays, and there
-must be some way to do it.”</p>
-
-<p>“Don’t they get rich mostly by staying at home,
-and minding their business,” said I, “instead of
-going off tramping about the world?”</p>
-
-<p>“Maybe some of them do,” said Fred; “but my
-father has always staid at home, and minded his business,
-and <i>he</i> hasn’t got rich; and I don’t believe he
-ever will. But there’s uncle Silas, he’s always on the
-go, so you never know where to direct a letter to him;
-and he has lots of money. Sometimes mother tells
-him he ought to settle down; but he always says,
-if he did he’s afraid he wouldn’t be able to settle
-up by and by.”</p>
-
-<p>I thought of my own father, and my mother’s
-brother. They both staid at home and minded their
-own business, yet neither of them was rich. This
-seemed to confirm Fred’s theory, and I was inclined
-to think he was more than half right.</p>
-
-<p>“I don’t know but I’d like to go with you,” said I.</p>
-
-<p>“I don’t want you to,” said Fred.</p>
-
-<p>“Why,” said I, in astonishment; “are we not good
-friends?”</p>
-
-<p>“O, yes, good friends as ever,” said Fred; “but
-you’re not very likely to find two fortunes close together;
-and I think it’s better for every one to go
-alone.”</p>
-
-<p>“Then why couldn’t I start at the same time you
-do, and go a different way?”</p>
-
-<p>“That would do,” said Fred. “I’m going to start
-to-morrow morning.” And he walked to the line,
-and felt of the handkerchief.</p>
-
-
-<div class="figcenter">
-<img src="images/fig59.jpg" alt="" />
-</div>
-
-
-<p>“I can take mother’s traveling-bag,” said I. “That
-will be handier to carry than a bundle tied up.”</p>
-
-<p>“Take it if you like,” said Fred; “but <i>I</i> believe
-there’s luck in an old-fashioned handkerchief. In all
-the pictures of boys going to seek their fortunes, they
-have their things tied up in a handkerchief, and a
-stick put through it and over their shoulder.”</p>
-
-<p>I did not sympathize much with Fred’s belief in
-luck, though I thought it was possible there might
-be something in it; but the bundle in the handkerchief
-seemed to savor a little more of romance, and
-I determined that I would conform to the ancient
-style.</p>
-
-<p>“Does your father know about it?” said I.</p>
-
-<p>“Yes; and he says I may go.”</p>
-
-<p>Just then Fred’s father drove around from the
-barn.</p>
-
-<p>“I’m going away,” said he to Fred, “to be gone
-several days. So, if you go in the morning, I shall
-not see you again until you return from your travels.”
-And he laughed a little.</p>
-
-<p>“Well, I’m certainly going to-morrow morning,”
-said Fred, in answer to the “if.”</p>
-
-<p>“You ought to have a little money with you,” said
-Mr. Barnard, taking out his wallet.</p>
-
-<p>“No, sir, I thank you,” said Fred; “but I’d rather
-not have it.”</p>
-
-<p>His father looked surprised.</p>
-
-<p>“I think it’s luckier to start without it,” said Fred,
-in explanation.</p>
-
-<p>“Very well! Luck go with you!” said Mr. Barnard,
-as he drove off.</p>
-
-<p>“Do you think it best to go without any money
-at all?” said I. “It seems to me it would be better
-to have a little.”</p>
-
-<p>“No,” said Fred; “a fellow ought to depend on
-himself, and trust to luck. It wouldn’t be any fun at
-all to stop at taverns and pay for meals and lodging,
-just like ordinary travelers. And then, if people saw
-I had money to pay for things, they wouldn’t believe
-I was going to seek my fortune.”</p>
-
-<p>“Why, do we want them to know that?” said I.</p>
-
-<p>“<i>I</i> do,” said he.</p>
-
-<p>“That isn’t the way the boys in the stories do,”
-said I.</p>
-
-<p>“And that’s just where they missed it,” said Fred;
-“or would, if they lived nowadays. Don’t you see that
-everybody that wants anything lets everybody know
-it? When I’m on my travels, I’m going to tell every
-one what I’m after. That’s the way to find out where
-to go and what to do.”</p>
-
-<p>“Won’t some of them fool you,” said I, “and tell
-you lies, and send you on the wrong road?”</p>
-
-<p>“A fellow’s got to look out for that,” said Fred,
-knowingly. “We needn’t believe all they say.”</p>
-
-<p>“What must we take in our bundles?” said I.</p>
-
-<p>“I’m going to take some cookies, and a Bible, and
-a tin cup, and a ball of string, and a pint of salt,”
-said Fred.</p>
-
-<p>“What’s the salt for?” said I.</p>
-
-<p>“We may have to camp out some nights,” said
-Fred, “and live on what we can find. There are lots
-of things you can find in the woods and fields to
-live on; but some of them ain’t good without salt&mdash;mushrooms,
-for instance.” Fred was very fond of
-mushrooms.</p>
-
-<p>“And is the string to tie up the bags of money?”
-said I&mdash;not meaning to be at all sarcastic.</p>
-
-<p>“O, no!” said Fred; “but string’s always handy to
-have. We may want to set snares for game, or tie up
-things that break, or catch fish. And then if you
-have to stay all night in a house where the people
-look suspicious, you can fix a string so that if any one
-opens the door of your room, it’ll wake you up.”</p>
-
-<p>“If that happened, you’d want a pistol&mdash;wouldn’t
-you?” said I. “Or else it wouldn’t do much good to
-be waked up.”</p>
-
-<p>“I’d take a pistol, if I had one,” said Fred; “but
-I can get along without it. You can always hit ’em
-over the head with a chair, or a pitcher, or something.
-You know you can swing a pitcher full of water
-around quick, and not spill a drop; and if you should
-hit a man a fair blow with it, ’twould knock him
-senseless. Besides, it’s dangerous using a pistol in a
-house. Sometimes the bullets go through the wall,
-and kill innocent persons.”</p>
-
-<p>“We don’t want to do that,” said I.</p>
-
-<p>“No,” said Fred; “that would be awful unlucky.”</p>
-
-<p>Then he felt of the handkerchief again, said he
-guessed it was dry enough, and took it off from the
-line.</p>
-
-<p>“Fred,” said I, “how much <i>is</i> a fortune?”</p>
-
-<p>“That depends on your ideas,” said Fred, as he
-smoothed the handkerchief over his knee. “I should
-not be satisfied with less than a hundred thousand
-dollars.”</p>
-
-<p>“I ought to be going home to get ready,” said I.
-“What time do we start?”</p>
-
-<p>“Five o’clock exactly,” said Fred.</p>
-
-<p>So we agreed to meet at the horse-block, in front
-of the house, a minute or two before five the next
-morning, and start simultaneously on the search for
-fortune.</p>
-
-<p>I went home, and asked mother if there was a red
-handkerchief, with round white spots on it, in the
-house.</p>
-
-<p>“I think there is,” said she. “What do you want
-with it?”</p>
-
-<p>I told her all about our plan, just as Fred and I
-had arranged it. She smiled, said she hoped we
-would be successful, and went to get the handkerchief.</p>
-
-<p>It proved to be just like Fred’s, except that the
-spots were yellow, and had little red dots in the middle.
-I thought that would do, and then asked her
-for the salt, the cup, and the cookies. She gave me
-her pint measure full of salt, and as she had no cookies
-in the house, she substituted four sandwiches.</p>
-
-<p>“But,” said I, “won’t you want to use this cup
-before I get back?”</p>
-
-<p>“I think not,” said she, with a twinkle in her eye,
-which puzzled me then, but which afterward I understood.</p>
-
-<p>I got my little Bible, and some twine, and then went
-into the yard to hunt up a stick to carry the bundle
-on. I found a slender spoke from an old carriage-wheel,
-and adopted it at once. “That,” said I to
-myself, as I handled and “hefted” it, “would be just
-the thing to hit a burglar over the head with.”</p>
-
-<p>I fixed the bundle all ready for a start, and went
-to bed in good season. Mother rose early, got
-me a nice breakfast, and called me at half past
-four.</p>
-
-<p>“Mother,” said I, as feelings of gratitude rose
-within me at the excellence of the meal, “how does
-a camel’s-hair shawl look?”</p>
-
-<p>“I don’t know, my son,” said she. “I never saw
-one.”</p>
-
-<p>“Never saw one!” said I. “Well, you <i>shall</i> see
-one, a big one, if I find my fortune.”</p>
-
-<p>“Thank you,” said mother, and smiled again that
-peculiar smile.</p>
-
-<p>Fred and I met promptly at the horse-block. He
-greatly admired my stick; his was an old hoe-handle,
-sawed short. I gave him two of my sandwiches for
-half of his cookies, and we tied up the bundles snugly,
-and slung them over our shoulders.</p>
-
-<p>“How long do you think it will take us?” said I.</p>
-
-<p>“Maybe three or four years&mdash;maybe more,”
-said he.</p>
-
-<p>“Let us agree to meet again on this spot five years,
-from to-day,” said I.</p>
-
-<p>“All right!” said Fred; and he took out a bit of
-lead pencil, and wrote the date on the side of the block.</p>
-
-<p>“The rains and snows will wash that off before the
-five years are up,” said I.</p>
-
-<p>“Never mind! we can remember,” said Fred.
-“And now,” he continued, as he shook hands with
-me, “don’t look back. <i>I’m</i> not going to; it isn’t
-lucky, and it’ll make us want to be home again.
-Good-bye!”</p>
-
-<p>“Good-bye! Remember, five years,” said I.</p>
-
-<p>He took the east road, I the west, and neither
-looked back.</p>
-
-<p>I think I must have walked about four miles without
-seeing any human being. Then I fell in with a
-boy, who was driving three cows to pasture, and we
-scraped acquaintance.</p>
-
-<p>“Where y’ goin’?” said he, eyeing my bundle.</p>
-
-<p>“A long journey,” said I.</p>
-
-<p>“Chiny?” said he.</p>
-
-<p>“Maybe so&mdash;maybe not,” said I.</p>
-
-<p>“What y’ got t’ sell?” said he.</p>
-
-<p>“Nothing,” said I; “I’m only a traveler not a
-peddler. Can you tell me whose house that is?”</p>
-
-<p>“That big white one?” said he; “that’s Hathaway’s.”</p>
-
-<p>“It looks new,” said I.</p>
-
-<p>“Yes, ’tis, spick an’ span,” said he. “Hathaway’s
-jest moved into it; used to live in that little brown
-one over there.”</p>
-
-<p>“Mr. Hathaway must be rich,” said I.</p>
-
-<p>“Jolly! I guess he is!&mdash;wish I was half as rich,”
-said the boy. “Made ’s money on the rise of prop’ty.
-Used to own all this land round here, when ’twas a
-howlin’ wilderness. I’ve heard dad say so lots o’
-times. There he is now.”</p>
-
-<p>“Who?&mdash;your father?” said I.</p>
-
-<p>“No; Hathaway.” And the boy pointed to a very
-old, white-headed man, who was leaning on a cane, and
-looking up at the cornice of the house.</p>
-
-<p>“He looks old,” said I.</p>
-
-<p>“He is, awful old,” said the boy. “Can’t live
-much longer. His daughter Nancy’ll take the hull.
-Ain’t no other relations.”</p>
-
-<p>“How old is Nancy?” said I; and if I had been a
-few years older myself, the question might have been
-significant; but among all the methods I had thought
-over of acquiring a fortune, that of marrying one was
-not included.</p>
-
-<p>“O, she’s gray-headed too,” said the boy, “’n a post, ’nd blind ’s a bat. I wish the old
-man couldn’t swaller a mouthful o’ breakfast till
-he’d give me half what he’s got.” And with this
-charitable expression he turned with the cows into
-the lane, and I saw him no more.</p>
-
-<p>While I was meditating on the venerable but not
-venerated Mr. Hathaway and his property, a wagon
-came rumbling along behind me.</p>
-
-<p>“Don’t you want to ride?” said the driver, as I
-stepped aside to let it pass.</p>
-
-<p>I thanked him, and climbed to a place beside him
-on the rough seat. He was in his shirt-sleeves, and
-wore a torn straw hat. He had reddish side-whiskers,
-and his chin needed shaving, badly.</p>
-
-<p>“Got far to go?” said he, as the team started up
-again.</p>
-
-<p>“I expect to walk all day,” said I.</p>
-
-<p>“Then you must get a lift when you can,” said he.
-“Don’t be afraid to ask. A good many that wouldn’t
-invite you, as I did, would let you ride if you asked
-them.”</p>
-
-<p>I promised to remember his advice.</p>
-
-<p>“Ever drive a team?” said he.</p>
-
-<p>“Not much,” said I.</p>
-
-<p>“I want a good boy to drive team,” said he. “Suppose
-you could learn.” And then he began to talk to
-the horses, and to whistle.</p>
-
-<p>“How much would you pay?” said I.</p>
-
-<p>“I’d give a good smart boy ten dollars a month and
-board,” said he. “Git ap, Doc!”</p>
-
-<p>“How much of that could he save?” said I.</p>
-
-<p>“Save eight dollars a month easy enough, if he’s
-careful of his clothes, and don’t want to go to every
-circus that comes along,” said he.</p>
-
-<p>I made a mental calculation: “Eight times twelve
-are ninety-six&mdash;into a hundred thousand&mdash;one thousand
-and forty-one years, and some months. O, yes!
-interest&mdash;well, nearly a thousand years.” Then I
-said aloud, “I guess I won’t hire; don’t believe I’d
-make a very good teamster.”</p>
-
-<p>“I think you would; and it’s good wages,” said he.</p>
-
-<p>“Nobody but Methuselah could get rich at it,”
-said I.</p>
-
-<p>“Rich?” said he. “Of course you couldn’t get
-rich teaming. If that’s what you’re after, I’ll tell you
-what you do: plant a forest. Timber’s good property.
-The price of it’s more than doubled in ten years past,
-and it’ll be higher yet. You plant a tree, and it’ll
-grow while you sleep. Chess won’t choke it, and the
-weevil can’t eat it. You don’t have to hoe it, nor
-mow it, nor pick it, nor rotate it, nor feed it, nor churn
-it, nor nothing. That’s the beauty of it. And you
-plant a forest of trees, and in time it’ll make you a
-rich man.”</p>
-
-<p>“How much time?” said I.</p>
-
-<p>“Well, that piece of timber you see over there,&mdash;that’s
-Eph Martin’s; he’s going to cut it next season.
-The biggest trees must be&mdash;well, perhaps eighty
-years old. You reckon up the interest on the cost of
-the land, and you’ll see it’s a good investment. I
-wish I had such a piece.”</p>
-
-<p>“Why don’t you plant one?” said I.</p>
-
-<p>“O, I’m too old! My grandfather ought to have
-done it for me. Whoa! Doc. Whoa! Tim.”</p>
-
-<p>He drew up at a large, red barn, where a man and
-a boy were grinding a scythe. I jumped down, and
-trudged on.</p>
-
-<p>After I had gone a mile or two, I began to feel
-hungry, and sat done on a stone, under a great oak
-tree, to eat a sandwich. Before I knew it I had eaten
-two, and then I was thirsty. There was a well in a
-door-yard close by, and I went to it. The bucket was
-too heavy for me to lift, and so I turned the salt out
-of my cup in a little pile on a clean-looking corner
-of the well-curb, and drank.</p>
-
-<p>The woman of the house came to the door, and took
-a good look at me; then she asked if I would not rather
-have a drink of milk. I said I would, and she brought
-a large bowlful, which I sat down on the door-step
-to enjoy.</p>
-
-<p>Presently a sun-browned, barefooted boy, wearing
-a new chip hat, and having his trousers slung by a
-single suspender, came around the corner of the house,
-and stopped before me.</p>
-
-<p>“Got any Shanghais at your house?” said he.</p>
-
-<p>“No!”</p>
-
-<p>“Any Cochins?”</p>
-
-<p>“No!”</p>
-
-<p>“Any Malays?”</p>
-
-<p>“No!”</p>
-
-<p>“What <i>have</i> you got?”</p>
-
-<p>“About twenty common hens,” said I, perceiving
-that his thoughts were running on fancy breeds of fowls.</p>
-
-<p>“Don’t want to buy a nice pair of Shanghais&mdash;do
-you?” said he.</p>
-
-<p>“I couldn’t take them to-day,” said I.</p>
-
-<p>“Let’s go look at them,” said he; and I followed
-him toward the barn.</p>
-
-<p>“This is <i>my</i> hennery,” said he, with evident pride,
-as we came to a small yard which was inclosed with
-a fence made of long, narrow strips of board, set up
-endwise, and nailed to a slight railing. Inside was
-a low shed, with half a dozen small entrances near
-the ground.</p>
-
-<p>“Me and Jake built this,” said he. “Jake’s my
-brother.”</p>
-
-<p>He unbuckled a strap that fastened the gate, and
-we went inside. A few fowls, of breeds unfamiliar to
-me, were scratching about the yard.</p>
-
-<p>“Don’t you call them nice hens?” said he.</p>
-
-<p>“I guess they are,” said I; “but I don’t know
-much about hens.”</p>
-
-<p>“Don’t you?” said he. “Then I’ll tell you something
-about them. There’s money in hens. Father
-says so, and I know it’s so. I made fifty-one dollars
-and thirteen cents on these last year. I wish I had
-a million.”</p>
-
-<p>“A million dollars,” said I, “is a good deal of
-money. I should be satisfied with one tenth of that.”</p>
-
-<p>“I meant a million hens,” said he. “I’d rather
-have a million hens than a million dollars.”</p>
-
-<p>I went through a mental calculation similar to the
-one I had indulged in while riding with the teamster:
-“Fifty-one, thirteen&mdash;almost two thousand years.
-Great Cæsar! Yes, Great Cæsar sure enough! I
-ought to have begun keeping hens about the time
-Cassius was egging on the conspirators to lay out that
-gentleman. But I forgot the interest again. Call it
-fifteen hundred.”</p>
-
-<p>“Let’s go in and look at the nests,” said the boy,
-opening the door of the shed.</p>
-
-<p>The nests were in a row of boxes nailed to the wall.
-He took out some of the eggs, and showed them to
-me. Several had pencil-writing on the shell, intended
-to denote the breed. I remember <i>Gaim</i>, <i>Schanghy</i>,
-and <i>Cotching</i>.</p>
-
-<p>“There’s a pair of Shanghais,” said he as he went
-out, pointing with one hand while he tightened the
-gate-strap with the other, “that I’ll sell you for five
-dollars. Or I’ll sell you half a dozen eggs for six
-dollars.”</p>
-
-<p>I told him I couldn’t trade that day, but would certainly
-come and see him when I wanted to buy any
-fancy hens.</p>
-
-<p>“If you see anybody,” said he, as we parted, “that
-wants a nice pair of Shanghais reasonable, you tell
-’em where I live.”</p>
-
-<p>“I will,” said I, and pushed on.</p>
-
-<p>“Money in hens, eh?” said I to myself. “Then
-if they belonged to me, I’d kill them, and get it out
-of them at once, notwithstanding the proverb about
-the goose.”</p>
-
-<p>After some further journeying I came to a roadside
-tavern. A large, square sign, with a faded picture of
-a horse, and the words <span class="smcap">Schuyler’s Hotel</span>, faintly
-legible, hung from an arm that extended over the road
-from a high post by the pump.</p>
-
-<p>I sat down on the steps, below a group of men who
-were tilted back in chairs on the piazza. One, who
-wore a red shirt, and chewed a very large quid of
-tobacco, was just saying,&mdash;</p>
-
-<p>“Take it by and through, a man can make wages
-at the mines, and that’s all he can make.”</p>
-
-<p>“Unless he strikes a big nugget,” said a little man
-with one eye.</p>
-
-<p>“He might be there a hundred years, and not do
-that,” said Red Shirt. “I never struck one.”</p>
-
-<p>“And again he might strike it the very first day,”
-said One Eye.</p>
-
-<p>“Again he might,” said Red Shirt; “but I’d rather
-take my chances keeping tavern. Look at Schuyler,
-now. He’ll die a rich man.”</p>
-
-<p>The one who seemed to be Schuyler was well worth
-looking at. I had never seen so much man packed
-into so much chair; and it was an exact fit&mdash;just
-enough chair for the man, just enough man for the
-chair. Schuyler’s boundary from his chin to his toe
-was nearly, if not exactly, a straight line.</p>
-
-<p>“Die rich?” said One Eye. “He’s a livin’ rich;
-he’s rich to-day.”</p>
-
-<p>“If any of you gentlemen want to make your fortune
-keeping a hotel,” said Schuyler, “I’ll sell on
-easy terms.”</p>
-
-<p>“How much, ’squire?” said Red Shirt.</p>
-
-<div class="figcenter">
-<a href="images/fig60big.jpg">
-<img src="images/fig60.jpg" alt="" />
-</a>
-<p class="caption">“<span class="smcap">He took the East Road, I the West, and neither looked back.</span>”&mdash;See page 61.</p>
-</div>
-
-<p>“Fifteen,” answered Schuyler.</p>
-
-<p>“Fifteen thousand&mdash;furniture and all?” said One
-Eye.</p>
-
-<p>“Everything,” said Schuyler.</p>
-
-<p>“Your gran’f’ther bought the place for fifteen hundred,”
-said One Eye. “But money was wuth more
-then.”</p>
-
-<p>While listening to this conversation, I had taken
-out my cookies, and I was eating the last of them,
-when One Eye made his last recorded remark.</p>
-
-<p>“Won’t you come in, sonny, and stay over night?”
-said Schuyler.</p>
-
-<p>“Thank you, sir,” said I; “but I can’t stop.”</p>
-
-<p>“Then don’t be mussing up my clean steps,”
-said he.</p>
-
-<p>I looked at him to see if he was in earnest; for I
-was too hungry to let a single crum fall, and could
-not conceive what should make a muss. The whole
-company were staring at me most uncomfortably.
-Without saying another word, I picked up my stick
-and bundle, and walked off.</p>
-
-<p>“Thirteen thousand five hundred,” said I to myself,
-slowly,&mdash;“in three generations&mdash;four thousand five
-hundred to a generation. I ought to have come over
-with Christopher Columbus, and set up a tavern for
-the red-skins to lounge around. Then maybe if I
-never let any little Indian boys eat their lunches
-on the steps, I’d be a rich man now. Fifteen thousand
-dollars&mdash;and so mean, so abominably mean&mdash;and
-such a crowd of loafers for company. No, I
-wouldn’t keep tavern if I could get rich in one generation.”</p>
-
-<p>At the close of this soliloquy, I found I had instinctively
-turned towards home when I left Schuyler’s
-Hotel. “It’s just as well,” said I, “just as well!
-I’d rather stay at home and mind my business, like
-father, and not have any fortune, if that’s the way
-people get them nowadays.”</p>
-
-<p>I had the good luck to fall in with my friend the
-teamster, who gave me a longer lift than before, and
-sounded me once more on the subject of hiring out to
-drive team for him.</p>
-
-<p>As I passed over the crest of the last hill in the
-road, I saw something in the distance that looked
-very much like another boy with a bundle over his
-shoulder. I waved my hat. It waved its hat. We
-met at the horse-block, each carrying a broad grin the
-last few rods of the way.</p>
-
-<p>“Let’s see your fortune,” said I, as I laid my
-bundle on the block.</p>
-
-<p>“Let’s see yours,” said he, as he laid his beside it.</p>
-
-<p>“You started the plan,” said I; “so you tell your
-adventures first.”</p>
-
-<p>Thereupon Fred told his story, which I give nearly
-in his own words.</p>
-
-<p>He traveled a long distance before he met with
-any incident. Then he came to a house that had
-several windows boarded up, and looked as if it might
-not be inhabited. While Fred stood looking at it,
-and wondering about it, he saw a shovelful of earth
-come out of one of the cellar windows. It was followed
-in a few seconds by another, and another, at
-regular intervals.</p>
-
-<p>“I know how it is,” said Fred. “Some old miser
-has lived and died in that house. He used to bury
-his money in the cellar; and now somebody’s digging
-for it. I mean to see if I can’t help him.”</p>
-
-<p>Going to the window, he stooped down and looked
-in. At first he saw nothing but the gleam of a new
-shovel. But when he had looked longer he discerned
-the form of the man who wielded it.</p>
-
-<p>“Hello!” said Fred, as the digger approached the
-window to throw out a shovelful.</p>
-
-<p>“Hello! Who are you?” said the man.</p>
-
-<p>“I’m a boy going to seek my fortune,” said Fred.
-“What are you digging for?”</p>
-
-<p>“Digging for a fortune,” said the man, taking up
-another shovelful.</p>
-
-<p>“May I help you?” said Fred.</p>
-
-<p>“Yes, if you like.”</p>
-
-<p>“And have half?”</p>
-
-<p>“Have all you find,” said the man, forcing down
-his shovel with his foot.</p>
-
-<p>Fred ran around to the cellar door, laid down his
-bundle on the grass beside it, and entered. The
-man pointed to an old shovel with a large corner
-broken off, and Fred picked it up and went to
-work.</p>
-
-<p>Nearly half of the cellar bottom had been lowered
-about a foot by digging, and the man was lowering
-the remainder. With Fred’s help, after about two
-hours of hard work, it was all cut down to the lower
-level.</p>
-
-<p>Fred had kept his eyes open, and scrutinized every
-shovelful; but nothing like a coin had gladdened his
-sight. Once he thought he had one, and ran to the
-light with it. But it proved to be only the iron ear
-broken off from some old bucket.</p>
-
-<p>“I guess that’ll do,” said the man, wiping his brow,
-when the leveling was completed.</p>
-
-<p>“Do?” said Fred, in astonishment. “Why, we
-haven’t found any of the money yet.”</p>
-
-<p>“What money?”</p>
-
-<p>“The money the old miser buried, of course.”</p>
-
-<p>The man laughed heartily. “I wasn’t digging for
-any miser’s money,” said he.</p>
-
-<p>“You said so,” said Fred.</p>
-
-<p>“O, no!” said the man. “I said I was digging
-for a fortune. Come and sit down, and I’ll tell you
-all about it.”</p>
-
-<p>They took seats on the highest of the cellar steps
-that led out of doors.</p>
-
-<p>“You see,” continued the man, “my wife went down
-cellar one day, and struck her forehead against one
-of those beams; and she died of it. If she had lived
-a week longer, she’d have inherited a very pretty
-property. So I’ve lowered the cellar floor; and if I
-should have another wife, her head couldn’t reach the
-beams, unless she was very tall&mdash;taller than I am. So
-if <i>she</i> inherits a fortune, the cellar won’t prevent us
-getting it. That’s the fortune I was digging for.”</p>
-
-<p>“It’s a mean trick to play on a boy; and if I was
-a man, I’d lick you,” said Fred, as he shouldered his
-bundle and walked away.</p>
-
-<p>Two or three miles farther down the road he came
-to a small blacksmith shop. The smith, a stout, middle-aged
-man, was sitting astride of a small bench
-with long legs, making horseshoe nails on a little
-anvil that rose from one end of it.</p>
-
-<p>Fred went in, and asked if he might sit there a
-while to rest.</p>
-
-<p>“Certainly,” said the blacksmith, as he threw a
-finished nail into an open drawer under the bench.
-“How far have you come?”</p>
-
-<p>“I can’t tell,” said Fred; “it must be as much as
-ten miles.”</p>
-
-<p>“Got far to go?”</p>
-
-<p>“I don’t know how far. I’m going to seek my fortune.”</p>
-
-<p>The smith let his hammer rest on the anvil, and
-took a good look at Fred. “You seem to be in
-earnest,” said he.</p>
-
-<p>“I am,” said Fred.</p>
-
-<p>“Don’t you know that gold dollars don’t go rolling
-up hill in these days, for boys to chase them, and we
-haven’t any fairies in this country, dancing by moonlight
-over buried treasure?” said the smith.</p>
-
-<p>“O, yes, I know that,” said Fred. “But people
-get rich in these days as much as ever they did.
-And I want to find out the best way to do it.”</p>
-
-<p>“What is that nail made of?” said the smith, holding
-out one.</p>
-
-<p>“Iron,” said Fred, wondering what that had to do
-with a boy seeking his fortune.</p>
-
-<p>“And that hammer?”</p>
-
-<p>“Iron.”</p>
-
-<p>“And that anvil?”</p>
-
-<p>“Iron.”</p>
-
-<p>“Well, don’t you see,” said the smith, resting his
-hammer on the anvil, and leaning over it toward
-Fred,&mdash;“don’t you see that everything depends on
-iron? A farmer can’t cultivate the ground until he
-has a plow; and that plow is made of iron. A
-butcher can’t cut up a critter until he has a knife;
-and that knife is made of iron. A tailor can’t make
-a garment without a needle; and that needle is made
-of iron. You can’t build a ship without iron, nor
-start a mill, nor arm a regiment. The stone age,
-and the brass age, and the golden age are all gone
-by. This is the iron age; and iron is the basis of all
-wealth. The richest man is the man that has the
-most iron. Railroads are made of iron, and the richest
-men are those that own railroads.”</p>
-
-<p>“How can one man own a railroad?” said Fred,
-amazed at the vastness of such wealth.</p>
-
-<p>“Well, he can’t exactly, unless he steals it,” said
-the smith.</p>
-
-<p>“I should like to own a railroad,” said Fred; and
-he thought what fun he might have, as well as profit,
-being conductor on his own train; “but I didn’t come
-to steal; I want to find a fortune honestly.”</p>
-
-<p>“Then look for it in iron,” said the smith. “Iron
-in some form always paves the road to prosperity.”</p>
-
-<p>“Would blacksmithing be a good way?” said
-Fred.</p>
-
-<p>“Now you’ve hit it,” said the smith. “I haven’t
-got rich myself, and probably never shall. But I
-didn’t take the right course. I was a sailor when I
-was young, and spent half my life wandering around
-the world, before I settled down and turned blacksmith.
-I dare say if I had learned the trade early
-enough, and had gone and set up a shop in some
-large place, or some rising place, and hadn’t always
-been so low in my charges, I might be a rich man.”</p>
-
-<p>Fred thought the blacksmith must be a very entertaining
-and learned man, whom it would be pleasant
-as well as profitable to work with. So, after thinking
-it over a few minutes, he said,&mdash;</p>
-
-<p>“Do you want to hire a boy to learn the business?”</p>
-
-<p>“I’ll give you a chance,” said the smith, “and see
-what you can do.” Then he went outside and drew
-in a wagon, which was complete except part of the
-iron-work, and started up his fire, and thrust in some
-small bars of iron.</p>
-
-<p>Fred laid aside his bundle, threw off his jacket, and
-announced that he was ready for work. The smith
-set him to blowing the bellows, and afterward gave
-him a light sledge, and showed him how to strike the
-red-hot bar on the anvil, alternating with the blows of
-the smith’s own hammer.</p>
-
-<p>At first it was very interesting to feel the soft iron
-give at every blow, and see the sparks fly, and the bars,
-and rods taking the well-known shapes of carriage-irons.
-But either the smith had reached the end of his political
-economy, or else he was too much in earnest
-about his work to deliver orations; his talk now was
-of “swagging,” and “upsetting,” and “countersinking,”
-and “taps,” and “dies”&mdash;all of which terms he
-taught Fred the use of.</p>
-
-<p>Fred was quick enough to learn, but had never
-been fond of work; and this was work that made the
-sweat roll down his whole body. After an hour or
-two, he gave it up.</p>
-
-<p>“I think I’ll look further for my fortune,” said he;
-“this is too hard work.”</p>
-
-<p>“All right,” said the smith; “but maybe you’ll
-fare worse. You’ve earned a little something, anyway;”
-and he drew aside his leather apron, thrust his
-hand into his pocket, and brought out seven cents;
-which Fred accepted with thanks, and resumed his
-journey.</p>
-
-<p>His next encounter was with a farmer, who sat in
-the grassy corner of a field, under the shade of a
-maple tree, eating his dinner. This reminded Fred
-that it was noon, and that he was hungry.</p>
-
-<p>“How d’e do, mister?” said Fred, looking through
-the rail-fence. “I should like to come over and take
-dinner with you.”</p>
-
-<p>“You’ll have to furnish your own victuals,” said
-the farmer.</p>
-
-<p>“That I can do,” said Fred, and climbed over the
-fence, and sat down by his new acquaintance.</p>
-
-<p>“Where you bound for?” said the farmer, as Fred
-opened his bundle, and took out a sandwich.</p>
-
-<p>“Going to seek my fortune,” said Fred.</p>
-
-<p>“You don’t look like a runaway ’prentice,” said
-the farmer; “but that’s a curious answer to a civil
-question.”</p>
-
-<p>“It’s true,” said Fred. “I <i>am</i> going to seek my
-fortune.”</p>
-
-<p>“Where do you expect to find it?”</p>
-
-<p>“I can’t tell&mdash;I suppose I must hunt for it.”</p>
-
-<p>“Well, I can tell you where to look for it, if you’re
-in earnest; and ’tain’t so very far off, either,” said
-the farmer, as he raised the jug of milk to his mouth.</p>
-
-<p>Fred indicated by his attitude that he was all attention,
-while the farmer took a long drink.</p>
-
-<p>“In the ground,” said he, as he sat down the jug
-with one hand, and brushed the other across his
-mouth. “There’s no wealth but what comes out of
-the ground in some way. All the trees and plants,
-all the grains, and grasses, and garden-sass, all the
-brick and stone, all the metals&mdash;iron, gold, silver,
-copper&mdash;everything comes out of the ground. That’s
-where man himself came from, according to the Bible:
-‘Dust thou art, and unto dust shalt thou return.’
-And the first primary foundation of it all is agriculture.
-Hewson, the blacksmith, pretends to say
-it’s iron; and he maintained that side in the debating
-club at the last meeting. But I maintained it
-was agriculture, and I maintain so still. Says I, ‘Mr.
-President, what’s your tailor, and your sailor, and
-your ship-builder, and your soldier, and your blacksmith
-going to do without something to eat? [Here
-the farmer made a vigorous gesture by bringing down
-his fist upon his knee.] They can’t eat needles, nor
-spikes, nor guns, nor anvils. The farmer’s got to
-feed ’em, every one on ’em. And they’ve got to
-have a good breakfast before they can do a good
-day’s work, and a dinner in the middle of it, and a
-supper at the end of it. Can’t plow without iron?’
-says I. ‘Why, Mr. President, in Syria and thereabouts
-they plow with a crooked limb of a tree to
-this day. The gentleman can see a picture of it
-in Barnes’s Notes, if he has access to that valuable
-work.’ And says I, ‘Mr. President, who was first in
-the order of time&mdash;Adam the farmer, or Tubal Cain
-the blacksmith? No, sir; Adam was the precursor of
-Tubal Cain; Adam had to be created before Tubal
-Cain could exist. First the farmer, and then the
-blacksmith;&mdash;that, Mr. President, is the divine order
-in the great procession of creation.’”</p>
-
-<p>Here the farmer stopped, and cut a piece of meat
-with his pocket-knife.</p>
-
-<p>“Boy,” he continued, “if you want a fortune, you
-must dig it out of the ground. You won’t find one
-anywhere else.”</p>
-
-<p>Fred thought of his recent unpleasant experience
-in digging for a fortune, and asked, “Isn’t digging
-generally pretty hard work.”</p>
-
-<p>“Yes,” said the farmer, as he took up his hoe, and
-rose to his feet; “it <i>is</i> hard work; but it’s a great
-deal more respectable than wandering around like a
-vagrant, picking up old horse-shoes, and hollering
-‘Money!’ at falling stars.”</p>
-
-<p>Fred thought the man was somehow getting personal.
-So he took his bundle, climbed the fence, and
-said good-bye to him.</p>
-
-<p>He walked on until he came to a fork of the road,
-and there he stopped, considering which road he would
-take. He could find no sign-board of any sort, and
-was about to toss one of his pennies to determine the
-question, when he saw a white steeple at some distance
-down the right hand road. “It’s always good
-luck to pass a church,” said he, and took that road.</p>
-
-<p>When he reached the church, he sat down on the
-steps to rest. While he sat there, thinking over all
-he had seen and heard that day, a gentleman wearing
-a black coat, a high hat, and a white cravat, came
-through the gate of a little house almost buried in
-vines and bushes, that stood next to the church. He
-saw Fred, and approached him, saying,&mdash;</p>
-
-<p>“Whither away, my little pilgrim?”</p>
-
-<p>“I am going to seek my fortune,” said Fred.</p>
-
-<p>“Haven’t you a home?”</p>
-
-<p>“Yes, sir.”</p>
-
-<p>“Parents?”</p>
-
-<p>“Yes, sir.”</p>
-
-<p>“Are they good to you?”</p>
-
-<p>“O, yes, sir.”</p>
-
-<p>“Then you are fortunate already,” said the gentleman.
-“When I was at your age, I had neither home
-nor parents, and the people where I lived were very
-unkind.”</p>
-
-<p>“But my father isn’t rich,” said Fred; “and he
-never will be.”</p>
-
-<p>“And you want to be rich?” said the gentleman.</p>
-
-<p>“Yes, sir. I thought I’d try to be,” said Fred.</p>
-
-<p>“What for?”</p>
-
-<p>“What for? Why&mdash;why&mdash;so as to have the
-money.”</p>
-
-<p>“And what would you do with the money, if you
-had it?”</p>
-
-<p>“I’d&mdash;I’d use it,” said Fred, beginning to feel that
-he had come to debating school without sufficiently
-understanding the question.</p>
-
-<p>“Do you see that pile of large stones near my
-barn?” said the gentleman. “I’ll give you those,
-and lend you a wheelbarrow to get them home.”</p>
-
-<p>“I thank you,” said Fred; “but I don’t want them.
-They’re of no use.”</p>
-
-<p>“O, yes, they are! You can build a house with
-them,” said the gentleman.</p>
-
-<p>“But I’m not ready to build a house,” said Fred.
-“I haven’t any land to build it on, nor any other
-materials, nor anything to put into it; and I’m not
-old enough to be married and keep house.”</p>
-
-<p>“Very true, my son! and if you had a cart-load of
-money now, it wouldn’t be of any more value to you
-than a cart-load of those building stones. But, after
-you have been to school a few years longer, and
-trained yourself to some business, and made a man of
-yourself, and developed your character, then you will
-have tastes, and capacities, and duties that require
-money; and if you get it as you go along, and always
-have enough to satisfy them, and none in excess to
-encumber you, that will be the happiest fortune you
-can find.”</p>
-
-<p>Fred took a few minutes to think of it. Then he
-said,&mdash;</p>
-
-<p>“I believe you have told me the truth, and set me
-on the right track. I will go home again, and try to
-make a man of myself first, and a rich man afterward.”</p>
-
-<p>“Before you start, perhaps you would like to come
-into my house and get rested, and look at some
-pictures.”</p>
-
-<p>Fred accepted the invitation. The lady of the
-house gave him a delicious lunch, and he spent an
-hour in the clergyman’s study, looking over two or
-three portfolios of prints and drawings, which they
-explained to him. Then he bade them good-bye,
-shouldered his bundle, and started for home, having
-the good fortune to catch a long ride, and arriving
-just as I did.</p>
-
-<p>“What I’ve learned,” said he, as he finished his
-story, “is, that you can get rich if you don’t care for
-anything else; but you’ve either got to work yourself
-to death for it, or else cheat somebody. You can get
-it out of the ground by working, or you can get it out
-of men by cheating. But who wants to do either? I
-don’t. And I believe it isn’t much use being rich,
-any way.”</p>
-
-<p>Then I told Fred my adventures. “And what
-I’ve learned,” said I, “is, that you can get rich
-without much trouble, if you’re willing to wait all
-your life for forests to grow and property to rise.
-But what’s the use of money to an old man or an
-old woman that’s blind and deaf, and just ready to
-die? Or what good does it do a mean man, with a
-lot of loafers round him? It can’t make him a
-gentleman.”</p>
-
-<p>And meditating upon this newly-acquired philosophy,
-Fred and I went to our homes.</p>
-
-<p>“Mother,” said I, “I’ve got back.”</p>
-
-<p>“Yes, my son, I expected you about this time.”</p>
-
-<p>“But I haven’t found a fortune, nor brought your
-camel’s-hair shawl.”</p>
-
-<p>“It’s just as well,” said she; “for I haven’t anything
-else that would be suitable to wear with it.”</p>
-
-<div class="figcenter">
-<img src="images/fig61.jpg" alt="" />
-</div>
-
-
-<hr class="full x-ebookmaker-drop" />
-
-<div class="chapter">
-
-
-<h2 class="nobreak" id="c7">THE LITTLE CHRISTMAS PIES.</h2>
-</div>
-
-<hr class="r5" />
-<p class="c more">BY E. F.</p>
-<hr class="r6" />
-
-
-<p class="drop-cap">FLORIS shut up her book, and looked at mamma.
-“Mamma, I wish we could be s’prised
-Christmas!”</p>
-
-<p>“Surprised.” It was a moment before mamma
-understood. “It is somewhat difficult,” she said
-then, “to surprise little girls who feel at liberty
-to go to mamma’s drawers at any time, and to untie
-all the packages when the delivery-man comes. In a
-small house like this people have to help surprise
-themselves.”</p>
-
-<p>“Who wants to help surprise theirselves!” exclaimed
-little Katy. “You ought to be cunning,
-mamma, and hide things; a ‘truly’ hide&mdash;you
-know&mdash;and not just in bureau drawers.”</p>
-
-<p>“<i>That’s</i> not what I mean at all, Katy,” said Floris.
-“Mamma, I mean a <i>surprise</i>, and not our Christmas
-presents. Of course, Katy and I know what them’ll
-be, or <i>most</i> know. It’ll be our new hats, or some
-aprons, or something we’d had to have any way, and
-just one of the every-day Christmas presents besides;
-a book, or a horn of candy. I most know mine’ll be
-a silver thimble this year, ’cause I lost my old one,
-and I heard you tell papa that Katy’d better have a
-workbox, so’s to s’courage her to learn sewing more.
-Now, see ’f ’tain’t so.”</p>
-
-<p>Mamma sat before her little daughters, her guilt
-confessed in her looks.</p>
-
-<p>“Not that we blame you, mamma,” added Floris,
-kindly. “I’m old ’nough now to know that if Santa
-Klaus brings us anything, he comes round beforehand,
-and gets every cent they cost out of papa&mdash;great
-Santa Klaus, that is!”</p>
-
-<p>“But what did you mean by a surprise, Floris?”</p>
-
-<p>“O, I d’no, quite,” answered Floris. “But I
-thought I sh’d like to have something happen that
-never had before; something planned for me ’n’ Katy
-that we didn’t know a breath about, and there was no
-chance of prying into, so that ’twould honestly s’prise
-us. I never was s’prised in my life yet, mamma. I
-always found out some way.”</p>
-
-<p>Mrs. Dewey smiled. She went out to prepare
-dinner, and nothing more was said; and Miss Floris
-took up her book with a sigh.</p>
-
-<p>But at night, while she was buttoning the two white
-night-dresses, Mrs. Dewey returned to the subject.
-“My little daughters, if you will keep out of the
-kitchen to-morrow, all day, I think I can promise that
-something very strange and delightful shall happen
-on Christmas.”</p>
-
-<p>Four little feet jumped right up and down, two little
-faces flew up in her own, four little hands caught hold
-of her, four bright eyes transfixed her&mdash;indeed, they
-came pretty near having the secret right out of her on
-the spot.</p>
-
-<p>“O, mamma! What <i>is</i> it?”</p>
-
-<p>“You must be very anxious to be ‘truly s’prised,’”
-remarked mamma.</p>
-
-<p>Floris saw the point. She subsided at once. She
-smiled at mamma with the first elder-daughter smile
-that had ever crossed the bright child-face.</p>
-
-<p>“I guess I <i>shall</i> be ‘truly s’prised’ if we <i>are</i>
-s’prised,” she said, with a funny little grimace, as she
-laid her head on the pillow.</p>
-
-<p>“Now, remember, it is to be a ‘truly keep-out,’”
-warned Mrs. Dewey. “You are not to enter the
-kitchen at all&mdash;not once all day to-morrow.”</p>
-
-<p>“Why, surely, mamma Dewey, you are not to do
-anything towa’ds it before breakfast,” reasoned little
-Katy.</p>
-
-<p>“I shall at least notice whether I am obeyed.”</p>
-
-<p>“What’ll happen if we don’t?” inquired Katy.</p>
-
-<p>“Nothing’ll happen then,” said mamma, quietly.</p>
-
-<p>The little voices said no more, and mamma went
-down stairs. They said not a single word more, because
-the little Deweys were so constructed that had
-there not been a standing command that they should
-not speak after mamma closed the door, their little
-pink tongues would have run all night; but they
-squeezed each other’s hands very tightly, and also
-remained awake somewhat longer than usual.</p>
-
-<p>Mrs. Dewey smiled next morning to see her daughters
-seated at their lessons in that part of the sitting-room
-furthest from the door that opened into the
-hall and thus into the kitchen. They never once
-directly referred to last night’s conversation; but they
-were extremely civil to her personally, most charmingly
-civil, obedient, and thoughtful. Indeed, Katy’s
-little round shingled head would bob out into the hall
-almost every time mamma’s step was heard. “You
-must let me bring you anything I can, mamma&mdash;anything
-I can, ’thout going into the kitchen, I mean.”</p>
-
-<p>But, to Katy’s disappointment, mamma wished no
-assistance. Floris offered to go down town, if mamma
-needed. But mamma wished nothing that Floris could
-do. However, to their delight, they saw the delivery-man,
-when he came, taking down lots of orders in his
-book. “Would it be w’ong to listen in the hall?”
-Katy whispered. “’Cause I could hear everything
-she told him, ’f I was a-mind to.”</p>
-
-<p>Floris told her it would be very wrong.</p>
-
-<p>The elder little girl studied, and played, and sang,
-and amused her doll all the morning, and refused to
-listen to any pleasant sound she heard from the
-kitchen. She shut her little nose, also, against a sudden
-whiff of deliciousness as some door opened. She
-even went to the well, and brought hard water for her
-room, because the rain water would have taken her
-near the forbidden regions.</p>
-
-<p>But little Katy was as restless as a bee. She had
-a thousand errands through the hall. When Floris
-reprimanded her, she said she didn’t ’tend to go a-near
-the kitchen door. Floris looked out often; but, at
-last, the little one settled on the hall stairs with her
-paint-box, and the elder sister felt at rest.</p>
-
-<p>But even to her it finally grew a long forenoon. Before
-ten o’clock she found herself infected with the
-same restlessness. Then the various sounds which she
-heard distracted her, such busy sounds&mdash;she would,
-at last, have given almost anything to know what was
-going on out there.</p>
-
-<p>The mantel clock was just striking eleven when the
-hall door unclosed, and Katy’s plump little person
-partially appeared.</p>
-
-<p>“Come here, quick, quick! or she’ll be back. <i>I’ve
-found out, Flory!</i>”</p>
-
-<p>“O, <i>have</i> you&mdash;Why, Katy Dewey!” Floris over-turned
-the music-stool as she ran. Katy, her head
-turned listeningly toward the kitchen door, blindly
-crowded a spoonful of something into her mouth.</p>
-
-<p>“There! isn’t that ’licious good? O, Floris, such
-things as I have seen out there!&mdash;the box of raisins
-is down on the table, and all her extrach Lubin
-bottles. I couldn’t stay to look much; but, Floris,
-there’s twelve of the most beautiful mince patties&mdash;O,
-the most beautiful! all iced, and ‘Merry Christmas,’
-in pink sand, on every one, and there’s twelve
-more in the iron ready to fill&mdash;<i>wasn’t</i> that I gave
-you <i>crammed</i> with raisins!”</p>
-
-<p>Floris’s eyes danced. “Kit Dewey, I’ll bet we’re
-going to have a Christmas party&mdash;a party of little
-boys and girls! What else was there, do tell me!”</p>
-
-<p>“O, I d’no; there was heaps of raisins&mdash;and,
-<i>mebbe</i>, there was ice cream;” suddenly remembering
-Floris’s fondness for that delectable.</p>
-
-<p>Floris knew better than that; but still her eyes
-danced. Suddenly they heard the back kitchen door,
-and, as suddenly, Floris turned white. “The mince-spoon,
-Katy! You’ve brought the mince-spoon!
-Mamma’ll know!”</p>
-
-<p>Katy’s little mouth dropped open.</p>
-
-<p>“Quick! She’s coming this way!”</p>
-
-<p>Floris softly got into the sitting-room, so did Katy.</p>
-
-<p>“Where is the spoon?” hurriedly whispered the
-elder girl.</p>
-
-<p>“I stuffed it under the stair carpet, where that rod
-was up.”</p>
-
-<p>They could hear mamma coming through the hall.
-But she came only part way. After a pause, she
-returned to the kitchen.</p>
-
-<p>“Katy, what if she’s found it?”</p>
-
-<p>“She couldn’t.”</p>
-
-<p>They stole out into the hall. The spoon was gone!</p>
-
-<p>“O, Katy! I’ll bet you left it sticking out!” said
-Floris, and burst into tears. Katy did the same.
-With one accord they ascended the stairs to their
-room.</p>
-
-<p>When, with red eyes, they came down to dinner,
-they found mamma in the dining-room as placid as
-usual. The kitchen door was wide open. After
-dinner Floris was requested to wipe the dishes. Her
-work took her into every part of the kitchen domains,
-and her red eyes peered about sharply; but nothing
-unusual was to be seen&mdash;not one trace of the beautiful
-patties, not a raisin-stem, even!</p>
-
-<p>Christmas day came and went. Floris had her
-silver thimble, and Katy her work-box. The dinner
-table was in the usual holiday trim. But the little
-frosted pies, with the pink greetings, were not brought
-forward&mdash;no, and not one word was said concerning
-them, not even by mamma’s eyes.</p>
-
-<div class="figcenter">
-<img src="images/fig62.jpg" alt="" />
-</div>
-
-<p>At night they cried softly in their little white bed,
-after mamma had gone down. “And, Floris, I ’member
-now, there was something else, under a white
-cloth, like a plate of kisses, I thought,” sobbed Katy,
-her wet little face pressed into the pillows; “and I
-shall always think she was going to make fruitcake,
-for there was citron all cut up, and there was
-almonds&mdash;”</p>
-
-<p>“Don’t, Katy! I don’t want to hear it! I <i>can’t</i>
-hear it!” said Floris, in a thick voice; “and don’t
-let us disobey mamma more by talking.”</p>
-
-<p>But what did become of the beautiful, frosted, pink-lettered
-little pies&mdash;would you like to know?</p>
-
-<p>Floris and Katy cannot tell you; for never yet
-have mamma and her little daughters exchanged a
-word upon the subject&mdash;but I think <i>I</i> can. At least
-I was told that a factory-weaver’s family, where there
-were several little girls, had the most lovely of patties,
-and kisses, and sugar-plums sent them for their
-Christmas dinner last year.</p>
-<hr class="full x-ebookmaker-drop" />
-
-<div class="chapter">
-
-
-<h2 class="nobreak" id="c8">THE STRANGERS FROM THE SOUTH.</h2>
-</div>
-
-<hr class="r5" />
-<p class="c more">BY ELLA FARMAN.</p>
-<hr class="r6" />
-
-
-
-
-<p class="drop-cap">UNLESS I take a long half mile circle, my daily
-walk to the post-office leads me down through
-an unsavory, wooden-built portion of town. I am
-obliged to pass several cheap groceries, which smell
-horribly of <i>sauer-kraut</i> and Limburg cheese, a restaurant
-steamy with Frenchy soups, a livery stable,
-besides two or three barns, and some gloomy, windowless,
-shut-up buildings, of whose use I haven’t the
-slightest idea.</p>
-
-<p>Of course, when I go out in grand toilet, I take
-the half mile circle. But, being a business woman,
-and generally in a hurry, I usually go this short way
-in my short walking-dress and big parasol; and, probably,
-there is an indescribable expression to my nose,
-just as Mrs. Jack Graham says.</p>
-
-<p>Well, one morning I was going down town in the
-greatest hurry. I was trying to walk so fast that I
-needn’t breathe once going by the Dutch groceries;
-and I was almost to the open space which looks away
-off to the sparkling river, and the distant park, and the
-forenoon sun,&mdash;I always take a good, long, sweet
-breath there, coming and going,&mdash;when my eye was
-caught by a remarkable group across the street.</p>
-
-<p>Yes, during the night, evidently, while the town
-was asleep, there had been an arrival&mdash;strangers
-direct from the Sunny South.</p>
-
-<p>And there the remarkable-looking strangers sat, in
-a row, along the narrow step of one of the mysterious
-buildings I have alluded to. They were sunning
-themselves with all the delightful carelessness of the
-experienced traveler. Though, evidently, they had
-been presented with the liberty of the city, it was just
-as evident that they didn’t care a fig for sightseeing&mdash;not
-a fig, either, for the inhabitants. All they asked
-of our town was its sunshine. They had selected the
-spot where they could get the most of it. Through
-the open space opposite the sun streamed broadly;
-and the side of a weather-colored building is <i>so</i>
-warm!</p>
-
-<p>What a picture of <i>dolce far niente</i>, of “sweet-do-nothing,”
-it was! I stopped, hung my parasol over
-my shoulder,&mdash;there was a little too much sunshine
-for me,&mdash;and gazed at it.</p>
-
-<p>“O, how you do love it! You bask like animals!
-That fullness of enjoyment is denied to us white-skins.
-What a visible absorption of luster and heat! You
-are the true lotus-eaters!”</p>
-
-<p>The umber-colored creatures&mdash;I suppose they are
-as much warmer for being brown, as any brown surface
-is warmer than a white one. I never did see
-sunshine drank, and absorbed, and enjoyed as that
-was. It was a bit of Egypt and the Nile life. I could
-not bear to go on.</p>
-
-<div class="figcenter">
-<img src="images/fig63.jpg" alt="" />
-</div>
-
-<p>Finally, I crossed the street to them. Not one of
-them stirred. The eldest brother was standing, leaning
-against the building. He turned one eye on me,
-and kept it there. At his feet lay a bulging, ragged
-satchel. Evidently he was the protector.</p>
-
-<p>The elder sister, with hands tucked snugly under
-her folded arms, winked and blinked at me dozily.
-The little boy with the Nubian lips was sound asleep,&mdash;a
-baby Osiris,&mdash;his chubby hands hiding together
-between his knees for greater warmth. The youngest
-sister, wrapped in an old woolen shawl, was the only
-uncomfortable one of the lot. There was no doze nor
-dream in her eyes yet&mdash;poor thing, <i>she</i> was cold!</p>
-
-<p>I didn’t believe they had had anywhere to lay their
-heads during the night. Liberty of a city, to one
-kind of new arrivals, means just that, you know.
-Sundry crumbs indicated an absence of the conventional
-breakfast table. Poor little darkies!</p>
-
-<p>“Children,” I said, like a benevolently-disposed
-city marshal, “you mustn’t sit here in the street.”</p>
-
-<p>“We’s gwine on soon, mistis,” said the protector,
-meekly.</p>
-
-<p>“I ’low we ain’t, Jim!” The big sister said this
-without any diminution of the utter happiness of her
-look.</p>
-
-<p>“It’s powerful cold comin’ up fru the norf, mistis.
-I <i>mus’</i> let ’em warm up once a day,” said Jim.</p>
-
-<p>“Up through the north! Pray, where are you
-going?”</p>
-
-<p>Jim twisted about. He looked down at the toe of
-his boot, reflectively.</p>
-
-<p>“I ex-pect, I ex-pect&mdash;”</p>
-
-<p>“You <i>spec</i>, Jim! You allers spectin’! Mistis,
-we’s <i>free</i>&mdash;we kin go anywhars!”</p>
-
-<p>I suspect there had been a great deal of long-suffering
-on the part of Jim. He burst out like flame
-from a smoldering fire,&mdash;</p>
-
-<p>“<i>Anywhars!</i> That’s what ails niggas! Freedom
-means <i>anywhars</i> to ’em, and so they’re nuffin’ nor
-nobody. You vagabon’, Rose Moncton, you <i>kin’t</i> go
-anywhars much longer&mdash;not ’long o’ me!”</p>
-
-<p>“O, you white folksy Jim! I ’low this trompin’
-was yer own plan. When you finds a town whar it’s
-any show of warm, I’ll hang up my things and stay,
-and not afore&mdash;ye hyar that! I ’low I won’t see
-Peyty and Kit a-freezin’!”</p>
-
-<p>She scowled at me, she actually did, as if I froze
-her with my pale face and cool leaf-green dress, and
-kept the sun off her, talking with that “white folksy
-Jim.”</p>
-
-<p>I fancied Jim was hoping I would say something
-more to them. I fancied he, at least, was in great
-need of a friend’s advice.</p>
-
-<p>“Where did you come from?” I asked him. But
-the other head of the family answered,&mdash;</p>
-
-<p>“Come from nuff sight warmer place than we’s
-goin’ anywhars.”</p>
-
-<p>“Rose is allers techy when she’s cold, mistis,”
-Jim apologized. “Ole Maum Phillis used fer to say
-as Rose’s temper goose-pimpled when the cold air
-struck it. We kim from Charleston, mistis. We’s
-speckin’ to work out some land for ourselves, and
-hev a home. We kim up norf to git wages, so as we
-kin all help at it. I’d like to stop hyar, mistis.”</p>
-
-<p>“Hyar! I ’low we’s goin’ soufard when we gits
-from dis yer, you Jim,” sniffed “Rose Moncton,” her
-face up to the sunshine.</p>
-
-<p>Poor Jim looked care-worn. I dare say my face
-was tolerably sympathetic. It felt so, at least.</p>
-
-<p>“Mistis,” the fellow said, “she’s kep us tackin’ souf
-an’ norf, souf an’ norf, all dis yer week, or we’d been
-somewhars. She don’t like de looks of no town <i>yet</i>.
-We’s slep’ roun’ in sheds six weeks now. I gits
-sawin’ an’ choppin’, an’ sich, to do once a day, while
-dey warms up in de sun, an’ eats a bite. Den up we
-gits, an’ tromps on. We’s got on so fur, but Rose
-ain’t clar at all yit whar we’ll stop. Mistis, whar is
-de warmest place <i>you</i> knows on?”</p>
-
-<p>I thought better and better of myself as the heavy-faced
-fellow thus appealed to me. I felt flattered by
-his confidence in me. I always feel flattered when a
-strange kitty follows me, or the birdies hop near for
-my crumbs. But I will confess that no human vagabond
-had ever before so skillfully touched the soft
-place in my heart. Poor, dusky wanderer! he looked
-so hungry, he looked so worn-out, too, as a head of a
-family will when the other head pulls the other way.</p>
-
-<p>“Well, Jim, the warmest place I know of is in my
-kitchen. I left a rousing fire there ten minutes ago.
-You all stay here until I come back, which will be in
-about seven minutes; then you shall go home with
-me, and I will give you a good hot dinner. You may
-stay all night, if you like, and perhaps I can advise
-you. You will be rested, at the least, for a fresh
-start.”</p>
-
-<p>Rose Moncton lifted her listless head, and looked
-in my face. “Laws!” said she. “Laws!” said
-she again.</p>
-
-<p>Jim pulled his forelock to me, vailed the flash in his
-warm umbery eyes with a timely wink of the heavy
-lids. He composed himself at once into a waiting
-attitude.</p>
-
-<p>I heard another “Laws!” as I hastened away.
-“That young mistis is done crazy. She’ll nebber
-kim back hyar, ’pend on dat!” Such was Rose’s
-opinion of me.</p>
-
-<p>I opened my ears for Jim’s. But Jim made no
-reply.</p>
-
-<p>Father and mother had gone out of town for two
-days. Our hired girl had left. I really was “mistis”
-of the premises. If I chose to gather in a circle of
-shivering little “niggas” around my kitchen stove,
-and heat that stove red-hot, there was nobody to say
-I better not.</p>
-
-<p>I was back in five minutes, instead of seven. Jim
-stood straight up on his feet the moment he discovered
-me coming. Rose showed some faint signs
-of life and interest. “’Clar, now, mistis! Kim
-along, den, Jim, and see ye look to that there verlise.
-Hyar, you Kit!” She managed to rouse her sister
-with her foot, still keeping her hands warmly hidden,
-and her face to the sun.</p>
-
-<p>But the other head took the little ones actively in
-charge. “Come, Peyty, boy! come, Kit! we’s gwine
-now!”</p>
-
-<p>Peyty opened his eyes&mdash;how starry they were!
-“O, we goin’, mo’? Jim, I don’t want to go no mo’!”</p>
-
-<p>“Ain’t gwine clar thar no, Peyty, boy; come, Kit&mdash;only
-to a house to warm the Peyty boy&mdash;come
-Kit!”</p>
-
-<p>Kit was coming fast enough. But Peyty had to
-be taken by the arm and pulled up. Then he stepped
-slowly, the tears coming. The movement revealed
-great swollen welts, where his stiff, tattered, leathern
-shoes had chafed and worn into the fat, black little
-legs. “Is dat ar Mistis Nelly?” he asked, opening
-his eyes, wonderingly, at the white lady.</p>
-
-<p>Rose had got up now. A sudden quiver ran over
-her face. “No, Peyty. Mist’ Nelly’s dead, you
-know. Wish we’s back to Mas’r Moncton’s, and
-Mist’ Nelly libbin’, an’ Linkum sojers dead afore
-dey cum!”</p>
-
-<p>There was a long sigh from everybody, even from
-Jim. But he drew in his lips tightly the next moment.
-“Some niggas nebber was worf freein’. Come along,
-Peyty, boy&mdash;ready, mistis.”</p>
-
-<p>I walked slowly along at the head of the strangers
-from the south. Little feet were so sore, Peyty
-couldn’t walk fast. Kit’s big woman’s size shoes
-were so stiff she could only shuffle along. Jim’s toes
-were protruding, and I fancied he and Rose were as
-foot-sore as the little ones. I dare say people looked
-and wondered; but I am not ashamed to be seen with
-any kind of children.</p>
-
-<p>I took them around to the back door, into the
-kitchen, which I had found unendurable while baking
-my bread and pies. The heated air rushed out against
-my face as I opened the door. It was a delicious
-May-day; but the procession behind me, entering,
-proceeded direct to the stove, and surrounded it in
-winter fashion, holding their hands out to the heat.
-Even from Jim I heard a soft sigh of satisfaction.</p>
-
-<p>Poor, shivering children of the tropics! I drew up
-the shades. There were no outer blinds, and the
-sun streamed in freely.</p>
-
-<p>“There, now. Warm yourselves, and take your
-own time for it. Put in wood, Jim, and keep as much
-fire as you like. I am going to my room to rest for an
-hour. Be sure that you don’t go off, for I wish you
-to stay here until you are thoroughly rested. I have
-plenty of wood for you to saw, Jim.”</p>
-
-<p>I brought out a pan of cookies. I set them on the
-table. “Here, Rose, see that Peyty and Kit have
-all they want. When I come down, I’ll get you some
-dinner.”</p>
-
-<p>The poor children in stories, and in real life, too,
-for that matter, always get only bread and butter&mdash;dear
-me, poor dears! When I undertake a romance
-for these waifs in real life, or story, I always give them
-cookies&mdash;cookies, sweet, golden, and crusty, with
-sifted sugar.</p>
-
-<p>I left them all, even to Jim, looking over into the
-pan. My! rich, sugary jumbles, and plummy queen’s
-cakes? When I saw their eyes dance&mdash;no sleep in
-those eyes now&mdash;I was glad it wasn’t simply wholesome
-sandwiches and plain fried cakes, as somebody
-at my elbow says now it ought to have been. I
-would have set out a picnic table, with ice-cream and
-candies, for those wretched little “niggas,” if I could!
-I nodded to them, and went away. It is so nice, after
-you have made a child happy, to add some unmistakable
-sign that it is quite welcome to the happiness!</p>
-
-<p>I knew there was nothing which they could steal.
-I expected they would explore the pantry. I judged
-them by some of my little white friends. But the silver
-was locked up. China and glass would hardly be
-available. If, after they had stuffed themselves with
-those cookies, they could want cold meat, and bread
-and butter, I surely shouldn’t begrudge it. Then I
-thought of my own especial lemon tart, which stood
-cooling on the shelf before the window; but I was
-not going back to insult that manly Jim Moncton by
-removing it.</p>
-
-<p>Just as I was slipping on my dressing-gown up in
-my own cool, quiet chamber, I caught a faint sound
-of the outside door of the kitchen. Something like a
-shriek, or a scream, followed. Then there was an
-unmistakable and mighty overturning of chairs. I
-rushed down. At the very least I expected to see my
-romantic “Rose Moncton” with her hands clenched
-in brother Jim’s kinky hair. With loosened tresses,
-without belt or collar, I appeared on the scene.</p>
-
-<p>What did I see? Why, I saw Phillis, Mrs. Jack
-Graham’s black cook, with every one of my little
-“niggas” in her arms&mdash;heads of the family and all!
-There they were, sobbing and laughing together, the
-portly Phillis the loudest of the whole. One of Mrs.
-Jack’s favorite china bowls lay in fragments on the
-floor.</p>
-
-<p>Phillis called out hysterically as she saw me. Jim
-discovered me the same moment. He detached himself,
-went up to the window, and bowed his head down
-upon the sash. I saw the tears roll down his cheek
-and drop.</p>
-
-<p>“Laws, Miss Carry! dese my ole mas’r’s niggers!
-dey’s Mas’r Moncton’s little nigs, ebery one! dey’s
-runned roun’ under my feet in Mas’r Moncton’s
-kitchen many a day down in ole Carline&mdash;bress em
-souls!” She hugged them again, and sobbed afresh,
-The children clung to the old cook’s neck, and waist, and
-arms like so many helpless, frightened black kittens.</p>
-
-<p>Phillis at last recovered her dignity. She pointed
-them to their chairs. She picked up the pieces of
-china in her apron. “Done gone, anyhow&mdash;dese
-pickaninnies gib ole Phillis sich a turn! It mose like
-seein’ Mas’r Moncton an’ Miss Nelly demselves.
-Whar you git ’em, Miss Carry?”</p>
-
-<p>I told her.</p>
-
-<p>“Bress your heart, Miss Carry! Len’ me a cup,
-and git me some yeast, and I’ll bring Mistis Graham
-ober, an’ I’ll be boun’, when she sees dat ar lubly
-little Peyty, she’ll hire him to&mdash;to&mdash;to&mdash;lor! she’ll
-hire him to look into his diamint eyes.”</p>
-
-<p>I know she herself kissed tears out of more than
-one pair of “diamint eyes” while I was getting the
-yeast. I heard her.</p>
-
-<p>“O, Maum Phillis!” I heard Jim say. “You think
-we’ll hire out roun’ hyar?”</p>
-
-<p>“<i>Could</i> we, Maum Phillis?” pleaded Rose, her
-voice soft and warm now. “We’s done tired out.
-I’m clean ready to drop down in my tracks long this
-yer blessed stove, and nebber stir anywhars!”</p>
-
-<p>“Bress you, chilluns! You <i>hev</i> tromped like sojers,
-clar from ole Carline! Spec it seems like home,
-findin’ one of de old place hands&mdash;Phillis knows.
-Dar, dar! don’t take on so. Miss Carry, she’ll bunk
-you down somewhar it’s warm, and thar you stay an’
-rest dem feet. I’ll send my mistis ober, and dey
-two’ll pervide fer ye on dis yer street; dis yer one ob
-de Lord’s own streets.”</p>
-
-<p>Well, do you think Mistis Graham and Mistis Carry
-dishonored Maum Phillis’s faith in them?</p>
-
-<p>No, indeed! The family found homes on “de
-Lord’s own street.” Jam is coachman at Squire
-Lee’s. Peyty is at the same place, taken in at first
-for his sweet disposition, and “diamint eyes,” I suspect.
-He is now a favorite table-waiter.</p>
-
-<p>Kit is Maum Phillis’s right-hand woman. Rose is
-our own hired girl. She is somewhat given to sleepiness,
-and to idling in sunny windows, and to scorching
-her shoes and aprons against the stove of a
-winter’s evening. But, on the whole, she is a good
-servant; and we have built her a bedroom out of
-the kitchen.</p>
-
-<p>I have never regretted crossing the street to speak
-to the strangers from the south.</p>
-<hr class="full x-ebookmaker-drop" />
-
-<div class="chapter">
-
-
-<h2 class="nobreak" id="c9">WI’ WEE WINKERS BLINKIN’.</h2>
-</div>
-
-<hr class="r5" />
-<p class="c more">BY J. E. RANKIN, D. D.</p>
-<hr class="r6" />
-
-
-<div class="poetry-container">
-<div class="poetry">
-<div class="stanza">
-<div class="verse indent0"><span class="big">W</span>I’ wee winkers blinkin’,</div>
-<div class="verse indent1">Blinkin’ like the starn,</div>
-<div class="verse indent0">What’s wee tottie thinkin’?</div>
-<div class="verse indent1">Tell her mither, bairn.</div>
-<div class="verse indent0">On night’s downy dream-wings,</div>
-<div class="verse indent1">Where’s the bairnie been,</div>
-<div class="verse indent0">That she has sic seemings</div>
-<div class="verse indent1">In her blinkin’ een?</div>
-</div><div class="stanza">
-<div class="verse indent0">Let her mither brood her,</div>
-<div class="verse indent1">Like the mither-doe;</div>
-<div class="verse indent0">When enough she’s woo’d her,</div>
-<div class="verse indent1">She maun prie her mou’:</div>
-<div class="verse indent0">Let her mither shake her,</div>
-<div class="verse indent1">Like an apple bough,</div>
-<div class="verse indent0">Frae her dreams to wake her:&mdash;</div>
-<div class="verse indent1">That’s our bairnie now!</div>
-</div><div class="stanza">
-<div class="verse indent0">There! I’ve got her crowin’</div>
-<div class="verse indent1">Like the cock at dawn;</div>
-<div class="verse indent0">Mou’ wi’ fistie stowin’,</div>
-<div class="verse indent1">When she tries to yawn:</div>
-<div class="verse indent0">She’ll na play the stranger</div>
-<div class="verse indent1">Drappit frae the blue,</div>
-<div class="verse indent0">Lest there might be danger</div>
-<div class="verse indent1">Back she sud gae through!</div>
-</div><div class="stanza">
-<div class="verse indent0">She’s our little mousie,</div>
-<div class="verse indent1">In this housie born,</div>
-<div class="verse indent0">That I tumble tousie,</div>
-<div class="verse indent1">Ilka, ilka morn:</div>
-<div class="verse indent0">She’s her mither’s bairnie,</div>
-<div class="verse indent1">Only flesh an’ blood;</div>
-<div class="verse indent0">Blinkin’ like the starnie</div>
-<div class="verse indent1">Through a neebor cloud.</div>
-</div>
-</div>
-</div>
-
-<div class="figcenter">
-<img src="images/fig64.jpg" alt="" />
-<p class="caption">LUCY’S PET.</p>
-</div>
-
-
-<hr class="full x-ebookmaker-drop" />
-
-<div class="chapter">
-
-<div class="figcenter" id="c10">
-<img src="images/fig65.jpg" alt="" />
-</div>
-
-<h2 class="nobreak">THE CHILDRENS’ SHOES.</h2>
-</div>
-
-
-<hr class="r5" />
-<p class="c more">BY BLANCHE B. BAKER (<i>nine years’ old</i>).</p>
-<hr class="r6" />
-
-
-<div class="poetry-container">
-<div class="poetry">
-<div class="stanza">
-<div class="verse indent0"><span class="big1">F</span>OUR pairs of little shoes.</div>
-<div class="verse indent2">All in a row;</div>
-<div class="verse indent0">Four pairs of little shoes</div>
-<div class="verse indent2">For to-morrow.</div>
-</div><div class="stanza">
-<div class="verse indent0">Four pairs of little shoes</div>
-<div class="verse indent2">Worn every day;</div>
-<div class="verse indent0">Four pairs of little shoes</div>
-<div class="verse indent2">Ready for play.</div>
-</div><div class="stanza">
-<div class="verse indent0">Four pairs of little shoes</div>
-<div class="verse indent2">By the fire’s glow;</div>
-<div class="verse indent0">Four pairs of little shoes</div>
-<div class="verse indent2">White at the toe.</div>
-</div><div class="stanza">
-<div class="verse indent0">Four pairs of little shoes</div>
-<div class="verse indent2">Travelling all day;</div>
-<div class="verse indent0">Four pairs of little shoes</div>
-<div class="verse indent2">Resting from play.</div>
-</div><div class="stanza">
-<div class="verse indent0">Four pairs of little shoes</div>
-<div class="verse indent2">Waiting for day;</div>
-<div class="verse indent0">Four pairs of little shoes</div>
-<div class="verse indent2">Never go astray!</div>
-</div>
-</div>
-</div>
-
-
-<hr class="full x-ebookmaker-drop" />
-
-<div class="chapter">
-<h2 class="nobreak" id="c11">ETHEL’S EXPERIMENT.</h2>
-</div>
-
-<hr class="r5" />
-<p class="c more">BY B. E. E.</p>
-<hr class="r6" />
-
-
-<div class="poetry-container">
-<div class="poetry">
-<div class="stanza">
-<div class="verse indent0"><span class="big2">W</span>HITE flakes on the upland, white flakes on the plain,</div>
-<div class="verse indent0">Frost bon-bons in meadow, in garden, in lane;</div>
-<div class="verse indent0">And wise little Ethel&mdash;the strangest of girls&mdash;</div>
-<div class="verse indent0">Puts on her grave thinking-cap, shakes her brown curls,</div>
-<div class="verse indent0">And talks to herself, in a curious way,</div>
-<div class="verse indent0">Of “snow” and a “ball” and a “hot summer’s day!”</div>
-<div class="verse indent0">Then, down to the brook, where the gnarled willows grow,</div>
-<div class="verse indent0">And the ice-covered reeds stand like soldiers in row,</div>
-<div class="verse indent0">Our brave little girl trudges off all alone,</div>
-<div class="verse indent0">And rolls a large snow-ball just under the stone</div>
-<div class="verse indent0">That lies on the brink of the streamlet, and then</div>
-<div class="verse indent0">In this wise begins her soliloquy: “When</div>
-<div class="verse indent0">The Fourth of July comes, what fun it will be</div>
-<div class="verse indent0">To have all this snow tucked away, for you see</div>
-<div class="verse indent0">Nobody will guess how it came there,&mdash;but me!”</div>
-<div class="verse indent0">Green leaves on the upland, green leaves on the plain,</div>
-<div class="verse indent0">And bluebirds and robins and south winds again.</div>
-<div class="verse indent0">The brook in the meadow is wide awake now,</div>
-<div class="verse indent0">And fragrant bloom drops from the old willows bough,</div>
-<div class="verse indent0">When Ethel remembers her treasure, her prize,</div>
-<div class="verse indent0">That under the edge of the great boulder lies;</div>
-<div class="verse indent0">And stealthily creeping close down to the brink,</div>
-<div class="verse indent0">Where the slender reeds quiver&mdash;now what do you think</div>
-<div class="verse indent0">Our little girl found? Why, never a trace</div>
-<div class="verse indent0">Of the snow-ball&mdash;O no! but just in its place</div>
-<div class="verse indent0">A tiny white violet, sweetest of sweet,</div>
-<div class="verse indent0">Because of the coverlid over its feet</div>
-<div class="verse indent0">Through all the long winter! And Ethel’s mamma,</div>
-<div class="verse indent0">When she heard the whole story said, “Truly we are</div>
-<div class="verse indent0">No wiser than children. We bury our grief,</div>
-<div class="verse indent0">And find in its hiding-place Hope’s tender leaf!”</div>
-</div>
-</div>
-</div>
-
-<hr class="full x-ebookmaker-drop" />
-
-<div class="chapter">
-
-
-<h2 class="nobreak" id="c12">CINDERS:</h2>
-</div>
-
-<p class="c">THE FORTUNE CARL FOUND IN THE ASHES.</p>
-
-<hr class="r5" />
-<p class="c more">BY MADGE ELLIOT.</p>
-<hr class="r6" />
-
-
-
-
-<p class="drop-cap">HOW artful the wind was that cold March morning,
-hiding away every now and then, pretending
-to be quite gone, only to rush out with a fearful
-howl at such unexpected moments that Carl was
-nearly blown off his feet each time.</p>
-
-<p>But he struggled bravely forward, bending his head
-to the blast, and holding his brimless hat on with one
-hand, while he carried his battered tin pail in the
-other.</p>
-
-<p>There was not a gleam of fire in the wretched room
-he had just left; and Tony and Lena, his little sisters,
-wrapped in the old piece of carpet that served them
-for a blanket, were <i>almost</i> crying with hunger and
-with cold.</p>
-
-<p>They would have cried outright if Carl had not
-kissed them, and said, “Never mind, young uns&mdash;wait
-till I can give you each a reg’lar bang-up lace
-hankercher to cry on,&mdash;<i>then</i> you may cry as much as
-you please.”</p>
-
-<p>Father and mother had died within a week of each
-other, when February’s snows were upon the ground,
-leaving these three poor children without money and
-without friends&mdash;a bad way for even grown-ups to be
-left.</p>
-
-<p>So Carl, poor boy, found himself, at ten years of
-age, the head of a family.</p>
-
-<p>Of course he became a newsboy.</p>
-
-<p>Almost all heads of families ten years and under,
-become newsboys.</p>
-
-<p>Twenty-five cents given him by an old woman who
-sold apples and peanuts, and who, by the way, was
-not much better off than he was himself, started him
-in business.</p>
-
-<p>But the business, I am sorry to say, scarcely paid
-the rent, leaving nothing for clothing, food and fire,
-three very necessary things,&mdash;be a home ever so
-humble.</p>
-
-<p>So every morning, almost as soon as the day
-dawned&mdash;and I can tell you day dawns very quickly
-in a room where the window hasn’t a scrap of shade
-or curtain&mdash;before he went down town for his stock
-of morning papers, Carl started out to bring home
-the family fuel.</p>
-
-<p>This consisted of whatever sticks and bits of wood
-he could find lying about the streets, and whatever
-cinders and pieces of coal he could pick from the
-ash-barrels and boxes.</p>
-
-<p>If the weather was at all mild, Tony, the eldest
-sister, and the housekeeper, went with him, and helped
-him fill the old pail.</p>
-
-<p>She carried a forlorn-looking basket, that seemed
-ashamed of the old piece of rope that served for its
-handle, and stopped on her way home at several
-houses, where the servant girls had taken a fancy to
-the gray-eyed, shy little thing, to get the family marketing.</p>
-
-<p>But alas! very <i>very</i> often the supply fell far short
-of the demand, for the winter had been a very severe
-one, and everybody had such a number of calls from
-all sorts of needy people, that they could afford to
-give but little to each one.</p>
-
-<p>This particular March morning Carl went out alone,
-wondering as he went when “the fortune” was going
-to “turn up.”</p>
-
-<p>For these poor children, shut out from dolls,
-fairy-books, and all things that make childhood merry
-and bright, used to while away many an hour, talking
-of “a fortune” which the brother had prophesied
-would one day be found in the ashes.</p>
-
-<p>At different times this dream took different shapes.</p>
-
-<p>Sometimes it was a pocket-book, oh! so fat with
-greenbacks, sometimes a purse of gold, sometimes “a
-diamint ring:” but, whatever it should prove to be,
-Carl was convinced, “felt it in his bones,” he said,
-it <i>would</i> be found, and found hidden among the
-cinders.</p>
-
-<p>Once he had brought home a silver fork, “scooped,”
-as he called it in newsboy’s slang, from an ash-heap
-in an open lot.</p>
-
-<p>On this fork the family had lived for three days.</p>
-
-<p>Once he rescued a doll, which <i>would</i> have been
-<i>lovely</i> if it had had a head; and at various times there
-were scraps of ribbon, lace and silk, all of which
-served to strengthen the belief that something wonderful
-must “turn up” at last.</p>
-
-<p>“Cricky! how that old wind does holler,” said Carl
-to himself, as he toiled along, “an’ it cuts right
-through me, my jacket’s so thin an’ torn&mdash;I’d mend
-it myself if I only knew how, and somebody’d lend
-me a needle and thread.</p>
-
-<p>“Don’t I wish I’d find the fortune this morning!</p>
-
-<p>“I dreamt of it last night&mdash;dreamt it was a bar of
-gold, long as my arm, and precious thick, too.</p>
-
-<p>“Guess I’ll go to that big bar’l afore them orful
-high flat houses&mdash;that’s <i>allus</i> full of cinders.</p>
-
-<p>“It’s lucky for us them big bugs don’t sift their
-ashes! <i>We</i> wouldn’t have no fire if they did,&mdash;that’s
-what’s the matter.”</p>
-
-<p>So he made his way to the “big bar’l,” hoping no
-one had been there before him, and, leaning over
-without looking, put his cold, red hand into the ashes,
-but he drew it out again in a hurry, for, cold as <i>it</i> was,
-it had touched something colder.</p>
-
-<p>“Hello!” cried Carl, “what’s that? It don’t feel
-’zactly like the bar of gold,” and, dropping on his
-knees, he peeped in.</p>
-
-<p>A dirty little, shaggy, once-white dog raised a pair
-of soft, dark, wistful eyes to his face.</p>
-
-<p>“Why! I’m blessed,” said Carl, in great surprise,
-“if it ain’t a dog. Poor little beggar! that was his
-nose I felt, an’ wasn’t it cold?”</p>
-
-<p>“I s’pose he’s got in among the ashes to keep
-warm; wot pooty eyes he’s got, just like that
-woman’s wot give me a ten cent stamp for the <i>Tribune</i>
-the other day, and wouldn’t take no change. Poor
-old feller! Are you lost?”</p>
-
-<p>The dog had risen to its feet, and still looking
-pleadingly at Carl, commenced wagging its tail in a
-friendly manner.</p>
-
-<p>“Oh! you want me to take you home,” continued
-Carl. “I can’t ’cause I dunno where you live, and
-<i>my</i> family eats all they can git theirselves&mdash;they’re
-awful pigs, they are,” and he laughed softly, “an’
-couldn’t board a dog nohow.”</p>
-
-<p>But the dog kept on wagging his tail, and as soon
-as Carl ceased speaking, as though grateful for even
-a few kind words, it licked the cold hand that rested
-on the side of the barrel.</p>
-
-<p>That dog&mdash;kiss won the poor boy’s heart completely.
-“You <i>shall</i> go with me,” he cried impulsively. “Jest
-come out of that barrel till I fill this pail with cinders,
-and then we’ll be off. He kin have the bones
-<i>we</i> can’t crack with our teeth ennyhow,” he said to
-himself,&mdash;not a very cheerful prospect, it must be
-confessed, for the boarder.</p>
-
-<p>The dog, as though he understood every word,
-jumped from the box, and seated himself on the icy
-pavement to wait for his new landlord and master.</p>
-
-<p>In a few moments the pail was full, and the boy
-turned toward his home, running as fast as he could,
-with the dog trotting along by his side.</p>
-
-<p>“See wot I foun’ in the ashes,” he cried, bounding
-into the room. “Here’s the fortune alive an’ kickin’.
-Wot you think of it?”</p>
-
-<p>“Oh, wot a funny fortune!” said Tony, and “Wot
-a funny fortune!” repeated little Lena.</p>
-
-<p>“It’s kinder queer,&mdash;the pocket-book an’ the dimint
-ring a-turnin’ into a dog!” Tony continued.
-“But no matter, if we can’t buy nothin’ with him, we
-can love him, poor little feller!”</p>
-
-<p>“Poor ’ittle feller!” repeated Lina. “He nicer
-than dollie ’ithout a head, ennyhow. <i>We</i> can lub him.”</p>
-
-<p>“An’ now, Carl,” said the housekeeper, “you make
-the fire, an’ I’ll run to market, for it’s most time you
-went after your papers.”</p>
-
-<p>And away she sped, to return in a few minutes with
-five or six cold potatoes, a few crusts of bread, and
-one bone, with very little meat&mdash;and that gristle&mdash;clinging
-to it.</p>
-
-<p>And this bone&mdash;think if you can of a greater act
-of self-denial and charity&mdash;the children decided with
-one accord should be given to “Cinders,” as they had
-named the dog on the spot.</p>
-
-<p>That night, after Carl had sold his papers, and
-come home tired but hopeful, for he had made thirty
-cents clear profit to save toward the rent, they all
-huddled together, with doggie in the midst of them,
-around the old iron furnace that held their tiny fire.</p>
-
-<p>Presently the Head of the Family began whistling
-a merry tune, which was a great favorite with the
-newsboys.</p>
-
-<p>Imagine the astonishment of the children when
-Cinders pricked up his ears, rose on his hind legs,
-and, after gravely walking across the room once,
-began to walk round and round, keeping perfect time
-to the music!</p>
-
-<p>“Hurrah! hurrah!” shouted Carl, his eyes sparkling.
-“Look at that! look at that! Tony, it <i>’tis</i> the
-fortune after all! an’ I <i>did</i> find it in the ash-box!”</p>
-
-<p>“Why, wot do you mean, Bub?” cried Tony, almost
-as excited as her brother. “Wot do you mean,
-an’ ware’s ‘the fortune?’”</p>
-
-<p>“Why there, right afore your eyes. I mean Cinders
-is one o’ them orful smart hundred-dollar dogs
-wot does tricks. He’s bin lost by that circus wot
-went away night afore last, an’ he’s bin lost a-purpose
-to make my dreams come true! I’ll take him out the
-fust fine day, an’ we’ll bring home lots of stamps.
-You see if we don’t!”</p>
-
-<p>“<i>I’ll</i> sell the papers,” said Tony, by this time <i>quite</i>
-as excited as her brother; “I kin do it, Carl. ‘’Ere’s
-the mornin’ Herald, Sun, Times an’ <i>Tri</i>-bune!’”
-imitating the shrill cry of the newsboy, and doing it
-very well, too, “an’ the fellers’ll be good to me, ’cos
-I’m your sister, an’ they like you.”</p>
-
-<p>“You’re a brick, Tony!” said Carl, “an’ for sich a
-small brick the brickiest brick I ever knowed; but I
-kin sell ’em myself in the mornin’, an’ you kin take
-’em in the afternoon, for that’s the time Cinders an’
-me must perform. ‘Monseer Carlosky an’ his werry
-talented dog Cinders, son of the well-known French
-performing poodle Cinderella.’ How’s that, Tony? O
-I’ve read all about ’em on the circus bills, and that’s
-the way they do it. Yes, you’ll have to take the
-papers in the afternoon, cos then’s when the swell
-boys an’ gals is home from school,&mdash;’cept Saturdays,
-then we’ll be out most all day.”</p>
-
-<p>“Dance more, Tinders, dance more!” here broke in
-little Lena; but Cinders stood looking at his master,
-evidently waiting for the music.</p>
-
-<p>So Carl commenced whistling&mdash;did I tell you he
-whistled like a bird?&mdash;and Cinders once more
-marched gravely across the room, and then began
-waltzing again in the most comical manner.</p>
-
-<p>He had evidently been trained to perform his tricks
-just twice; for when the music ceased <i>this</i> time he
-proceeded to stand on his head, and then sitting up
-on his hind legs, he nodded politely to the audience,
-and held out one of his paws, as much as to say,
-“Now pay if you please.”</p>
-
-<p>The poor children forgot hunger and cold in their
-delight, and that miserable room resounded to more
-innocent, merry laughter that night than it had heard
-for many long years, perhaps ever before.</p>
-
-<p>Cinders got another bone for his supper&mdash;the
-others had nothing&mdash;and then they all went to bed,
-if lying on the bare floor, with nothing for a pillow
-can be called going to bed, and dreamed of “the
-fortune” found at last in the ashes.</p>
-
-<p>The next afternoon, which fortunately was a fine
-one, for March having “come in like a lion was preparing
-to go out like a lamb,” Carl came racing up
-the crazy stairs, taking two steps at a time, and, tossing
-a bundle of evening papers to Tony, he whistled
-to Cinders, and away they went.</p>
-
-<p>Poor Carl looked shabby enough, with his toes
-sticking out of a pair of old shoes&mdash;a part of the
-treasures “scooped” from the ash-heap&mdash;and not
-mates at that, one being as much too large as the
-other was too small, his tattered jacket and his brimless
-hat.</p>
-
-<p>But Cinders followed him as faithfully as though
-he had been clad in a costly suit of the very latest
-style.</p>
-
-<p>Turning into a handsome, quiet street, Carl stopped
-at last before a house where three or four rosy-cheeked
-children were flattening their noses against the panes
-of the parlor windows, trying to see a doll which
-another rosy-cheeked child was holding up at a window
-just opposite.</p>
-
-<p>“Now Cinders, ole feller!” said Carl, while his
-heart beat fast, “do your best. <span class="smcap">Bones!</span>” and he
-began to whistle.</p>
-
-<p>At the first note Cinders stood up on his hind legs,
-at the second he took his first step forward.</p>
-
-<p>At the beginning of the fourth bar the waltz began;
-and by this time the rosy-cheeked children had lost
-all interest in the doll over the way, and were all
-shouting and calling “Mamma!” and the cook and
-chambermaid had made their appearance at the area
-gate.</p>
-
-<p>The march and waltz having been gone through
-with twice, Cinders stood on his head&mdash;“shure,” said
-the cook, “I couldn’t do it betther myself”&mdash;tumbled
-quickly to his feet again, nodded affably once to the
-right, once to the left, and once to the front of him,
-and held out his right paw.</p>
-
-<p>“He’s the cliverest baste ever <i>I</i> seen,” said the
-chambermaid, “so he is!” and she threw a five cent
-piece in Carl’s old hat; and, at the same moment the
-window was opened, and out flew a perfect shower of
-pennies, while the little girl across the way kept shouting,
-“Come here, ragged little boy! Come here,
-funny doggie! Oh, <i>why</i> don’t you come here?”</p>
-
-<p>And, making his best bow to his first audience,
-Carl went over to the doll’s house, and was received
-by the whole family, including grandpa and grandma,
-with great delight and laughter, and was rewarded at
-the end of his entertainment with much applause,
-three oranges, and a new ten cent stamp.</p>
-
-<p>That afternoon Cinders earned one dollar and
-three cents for his little master; and I can’t describe
-to you the joy that reigned in that small bare room
-when Carl, in honor of his debut as “Monseer Carlosky”
-brought in, and spread out on a newspaper on
-the floor, a wonderful feast! Real loaf of bread,
-bought at the baker’s, bottle of sarsaparilla at the
-grocer’s, and peanuts, apples, and a hunk of some
-extraordinary candy from the old woman who kept a
-stand at the corner, and who had started Carl as a
-newsboy. She also received her twenty-five cents
-again, with five cents added by way of interest.</p>
-
-<p>“Why! didn’t they look when they see me a-orderin’
-things, and payin’ for ’em on the spot!” said
-“Monseer,” with honest pride, as he carved the loaf
-with an old jackknife.</p>
-
-<p>As for Cinders, no meatless bone, but half a pound
-of delicious liver, did that remarkable dog receive,
-and more kisses on his cold, black nose than he knew
-what to do with.</p>
-
-<p>After that, as the weather grew finer and finer, and
-the days longer, Carl and his dog wandered farther
-and farther, and earned more and more money every
-day, until the little sisters rejoiced in new shoes, hats
-and dresses, and the housekeeper had a splendid basket&mdash;not
-very large, of course&mdash;with a handle that
-any basket could be proud of, and actually <i>did</i> go to
-market, fair and square, and no make believe about it.</p>
-
-<p>And Carl presented himself with a brand-new suit
-of clothes, from the second-hand shop next door, including
-shoes that were made for each other, and a
-hat with a brim.</p>
-
-<p>By-and-by the cheerless room was exchanged for a
-pleasanter one; and the story of the fair-haired Head
-of the Family, and the fortune he found in the ashes,
-took wings, and returned to him laden with blessings.</p>
-
-<p>And five years from that bleak March morning,
-when Cinder looked up so pleadingly in the boy’s,
-face, Carl found himself a clerk in the counting-room
-of a generous, kind-hearted merchant.</p>
-
-<p>“A boy who worked so hard and so patiently to
-take care of his little sisters,” this gentleman said to
-his wife, “and who was ready to share his scanty
-meals with a vagrant dog, <i>must</i> be a good boy, and
-good boys make good men.”</p>
-
-<p>And Tony and Lena, both grown to be bright,
-healthy, merry girls, befriended by many good women,
-were going to school, taking care of the house, earning
-a little in odd moments by helping the seamstress
-who lived on the floor below, and still looking up with
-love and respect to the Head of the Family.</p>
-
-<p>Cinders, petted and beloved by all, performed in
-public no more, but spent most of his time lying by
-the fire in winter, and on the door-step in summer,
-waiting and listening for the step of his master.</p>
-
-<p>So you see Carl was right.</p>
-
-<p>He <i>did</i> find his fortune among the ashes.</p>
-
-<p>But would it have proved a fortune had he been a
-cruel, selfish, hard-hearted boy?</p>
-
-<p>Ah! that’s the question.</p>
-
-<div class="figcenter">
-<img src="images/fig66.jpg" alt="" />
-</div>
-
-<hr class="full x-ebookmaker-drop" />
-
-<div class="chapter">
-
-
-<h2 class="nobreak" id="c13">TOM’S CENTENNIAL.</h2>
-</div>
-
-<p class="c"><i>A FOURTH OF JULY STORY.</i></p>
-
-<hr class="r5" />
-<p class="c more">BY MARGARET EYTINGE.</p>
-<hr class="r6" />
-
-
-<div class="figleft">
-<img src="images/fig67.jpg" alt="" />
-</div>
-
-<div class="figright">
-<img src="images/fig68.jpg" alt="" />
-</div>
-
-<p class="drop-cap">“HURRAH! To-morrow’s the Fourth of July&mdash;the
-glorious Fourth!” shouted Tom Wallace,
-careering wildly around the flower garden, as a Roman
-candle he held in his hand, evidently unable to contain
-itself until the proper time, went off with a fizz and a
-pop and flashed against the evening sky, “and it’s
-going to be the greatest Fourth that ever was known,
-because it’s the
-Centennial!”</p>
-
-<p>“A <i>cent</i>-tennial!”
-said his little sister
-Caddy, “that won’t be
-anything great.”</p>
-
-<p>“Pooh! you don’t understand&mdash;girls
-never do&mdash;Centennial don’t
-mean anything about money. Centennial means ’pertaining
-to, or happening every hundred years’&mdash;if
-you don’t believe me ask Noah Webster&mdash;and just
-a hundred years ago this magnificent Republic of
-America, gentlemen of the jury,” he continued, mounting
-a garden-chair, and making the most absurd gestures,
-“was declared free and independent, and its
-brave citizens determined not to drink tea unless they
-chose to, and our cousins from the other side of the
-Atlantic went marching home to the tune the old cow
-died on.”</p>
-
-<p>“What tune was that?” asked Caddy.</p>
-
-<p>“Gentlemen of the jury,” said Tom, “I’m astonished
-to find such ignorance in this great and enlightened
-country. The name of that memorable tune was
-and still is, as <i>Your Honor</i> well knows, Yankee Doodle;”
-and the orator, descending from the chair,
-commenced whistling that famous melody.</p>
-
-<p>“Well, then,” said Caddy, after a moment’s
-thought, “if a Centinal is something about a hundred
-years old, Aunt Patience is one, for she’s a hundred
-years old to-morrow&mdash;she told me so&mdash;and she feels
-real bad ’cause she can’t go to the green to see the
-fire-works, on ’count of the pain in her back, and Faith
-ain’t got any shoes or hat, and the flour’s ’most gone,
-and so’s the tea, and she says ‘the poor-house
-looms.’”</p>
-
-<p>“‘The poor-house looms,’ does it?” said Tom
-laughing; and then he stuck his hands in his pockets,
-and hummed “Hail Columbia” in a thoughtful manner.</p>
-
-<p>“I say, Frank,” he called out at last, going up on
-the porch, and poking his head in at a window, “what
-are you doing?”</p>
-
-<div class="poetry-container">
-<div class="poetry">
-<div class="stanza">
-<div class="verse indent0">“‘The king was in the parlor, counting out his money,’”</div>
-</div>
-</div>
-</div>
-
-<p>answered Frank.</p>
-
-<p>“How much, king?”</p>
-
-<p>“Twenty&mdash;thirty&mdash;thirty-five,” said Frank, “one
-dollar and thirty-five cents. How do you figure?”</p>
-
-<p>“Two, fifteen. Come out here, I want to tell you
-something.”</p>
-
-<p>Frank, who was two years younger than Tom appeared.</p>
-
-<p>“What’s up?” he asked, throwing himself into the
-hammock which hung from the roof of the porch, and
-swinging lazily.</p>
-
-<p>“Would it break your heart, and smash the fellows
-generally, if we didn’t go to the meeting on the green
-to-morrow evening, after all the fuss we’ve made about
-it?”</p>
-
-<p>“<i>What?</i>” asked Frank, in a tone of surprise, assuming
-a sitting position so suddenly that the hammock&mdash;hammocks
-are treacherous things&mdash;gave a
-sudden lurch, and landed him on the floor.</p>
-
-<p>Tom’s laughter woke all the echoes around.</p>
-
-<p>“Forgive these tears,” he said, as he wiped his
-eyes, “and now to business. You know not, perhaps,
-my gentle brother, that we have a centenarian, or as
-Caddy says, a centinal among us?”</p>
-
-<p>“A centinal?” said Frank, stretching himself out
-on the floor where he had fallen.</p>
-
-<p>“A centenarian, or centinal, whichever you choose,
-most noble kinsman, and she lives on the outskirts of
-this town. Her name&mdash;a most admirable one&mdash;is
-Patience. Her granddaughter’s&mdash;another admirable
-one&mdash;Faith.</p>
-
-<p>“Patience has the rheumatism. Faith has no shoes.
-They want to see some fire-works, and hear some
-Fourth of July&mdash;being centinals they naturally
-would.</p>
-
-<p>“What say you? Shall we and our faithful clan,
-instead of swelling the ranks of the militia on the
-green, march to the humble cottage behind the hill,
-and gladden the hearts of old Patience and young
-Faith with a pyr-o-tech-nic display?”</p>
-
-<p>“Good!” said Frank, who always followed the
-lead of his elder brother.</p>
-
-<p>And “Good!” echoed Caddy; “but don’t spend all
-your money for fire-works. Give some to Aunt Patience,
-’cause she’s the only centinal we’ve got.”</p>
-
-<p>“And she’ll never be another,” said Tom,</p>
-
-<div class="poetry-container">
-<div class="poetry">
-<div class="stanza">
-<div class="verse indent0">“‘While the star-spangled banner in triumph doth wave,</div>
-<div class="verse indent0">O’er the land of the free and the home of the brave.’”</div>
-</div>
-</div>
-</div>
-
-<p>So on the evening of the Fourth the people of
-Tomstown were somewhat astonished to see the
-young Centennial Guards march down the principal
-street, pass the green, where extensive preparations
-for festivities had been made, and keep on up the hill
-until, beginning to descend on the other side, they
-were lost to sight.</p>
-
-<p>At the head marched Frank with his drum. Caddy
-came directly behind him with a bunch of brilliant
-flowers. The others carried flags, Chinese lanterns,
-and boxes of fire-works, while Captain Tom flew here
-and there and everywhere, trying to keep&mdash;an almost
-hopeless task&mdash;the mischievous company in something
-like order.</p>
-
-<p>“Where away?” shouted Uncle Al&mdash;an old sailor
-home for the holiday&mdash;as the guards passed his
-door.</p>
-
-<p>“To Aunt Patience&mdash;our own special Centennial,”
-Frank shouted back with a tremendous roll of the
-drum.</p>
-
-<p>Uncle Al, always ready for fun, pipe in mouth, fell
-in line, waving his tarpaulin on the end of a stick, and
-Ex, his yellow dog, and Ander, his black one, followed
-after, grinning and wagging their tails.</p>
-
-<p>Then the butcher’s boy, and his chum the baker’s
-boy, who were going by, turned and joined the procession,
-and away they all went, hurrahing, laughing
-and drumming, to the door of the very small cottage.</p>
-
-<p>“Bless my heart!” said Aunt Patience, who was
-sitting in a wooden arm-chair on the stoop, and who,
-hearing faintly, poor, dear, deaf old soul, the noise of
-the approaching “guards,” had been thinking the frogs
-croaked much louder than usual, “what’s this?”</p>
-
-<p>And bare-footed, brown-eyed Faith came out with
-wonder written all over her pretty face.</p>
-
-<p>“Three cheers for our special Centennial!” shouted
-the boys; and they gave three with a will, as Caddy
-placed her flowers in the old woman’s hand.</p>
-
-<p>“Now for the pyr-o-tech-nic display!” commanded
-Captain Tom; and for nearly an hour Roman candles
-fizzed, blue-lights popped, torpedoes cracked, pin-wheels
-whizzed, and fire-crackers banged.</p>
-
-<p>Old Patience said it was worth living a hundred
-years to see.</p>
-
-<p>And as the last fire-work went up a rocket and came
-down a stick, the gallant company formed in single
-file, and, marching past Aunt Patience, each member
-bade her “good-night,” and dropped some money in
-her lap.</p>
-
-<p>As for Uncle Al&mdash;that generous, jolly, warm-hearted
-old sailor, his gift was three old-fashioned
-silver dollars; one for himself, one for Ex, and one
-for Ander.</p>
-
-<p>“No one should think,” he said, “that <i>his</i> dogs
-were mean dogs.”</p>
-
-<p>Then away they all went again, hurrahing, shouting,
-and drumming like mad!</p>
-
-<div class="figcenter">
-<img src="images/fig69.jpg" alt="" />
-</div>
-
-
-<hr class="full x-ebookmaker-drop" />
-
-<div class="chapter">
-
-
-<h2 class="nobreak" id="c14">LITTLE CHUB AND THE SKY WINDOW.</h2>
-</div>
-
-<hr class="r5" />
-<p class="c more">BY MARY D. BRINE.</p>
-<hr class="r6" />
-
-
-
-
-<p class="drop-cap">LITTLE CHUB sat on the curb-stone, dipping
-small brown toes into the not very pure water
-which flowed along the gutter, and watching with his
-large, blue eyes the fleecy clouds which far up above
-the narrow court in which he dwelt with granny sailed
-lazily across the patch of blue sky just visible between
-two tall buildings opposite.</p>
-
-<p>Chub’s real name was Tommy Brown, but, on account
-of his roly-poly figure and little round face, he
-was nick-named “Chub,” and even granny called him
-so, till the boy forgot he had another name.</p>
-
-<p>There had been a funeral that morning near Chub’s
-house, and all the boys gathered about the spot, listening
-open-eared and open-eyed to the service which
-told the mourners of that “happy land, far, far away,”
-and was intended to comfort them.</p>
-
-<p>But Chub was too little to understand much of all
-he heard, and could only feel very sorry for the poor
-little girl who cried for her dear mamma, and clung to
-her father’s hand terrified because that mamma would
-not even open her eyes nor look at her. Then the
-carriages moved slowly down the street, and Chub
-went home to granny and teased her with questions.</p>
-
-<p>“Granny, what’s up there?”</p>
-
-<p>Mrs. Brown, at her wash-tub, half-enveloped in
-steam, scrubbed away and answered:</p>
-
-<p>“The other wurrld, honey dear,” reverentially raising
-her eyes to the blue patch of sky to which Chub’s
-fat finger pointed.</p>
-
-<p>“<i>What</i> other world, granny?”</p>
-
-<p>“The good place where yer mammy and daddy have
-gone, to be sure.”</p>
-
-<p>“How did they get there?” from Chub, his little
-brow full of puzzled knots.</p>
-
-<p>“Arrah thin, ye ax too many questions, honey.
-Some good angel flew down and lifted them up, of
-course, and&mdash;and&mdash;flew away wid ’em agin. Run
-now to the corner and fetch me a bar of soap, there’s
-a dear.”</p>
-
-<p>Chub went for the soap, and, returning, seated himself
-on the curb-stone as we first found him, and calculating
-the length of time it might possibly take an
-angel to fly heavenward with little Jennie’s mother,
-watched the blue patch and fleecy clouds to see the
-final entrance of the two into that other world granny
-talked about. Presently two bootblacks strolled
-along, jingling pennies in their pockets, and swinging
-their blacking-boxes independently.</p>
-
-<p>“Hi, Chub,” they shouted, “want a penny?”</p>
-
-<p>Chub held out his hand nothing loth.</p>
-
-<p>“Who giv it ter yer?” he asked, delightedly, for so
-much wealth had not been his since he could remember.</p>
-
-<p>“Earned it shinin’ boots, ov course. <i>We’re</i> rich
-men, Chub, don’t ye know that?” passing on with a
-chuckle.</p>
-
-<p>An idea seized our small boy. He withdrew his
-toes from the gutter, forgot all about the flying angel
-and patch of sky, and startled granny, who was bending
-over her wash-tub, with:</p>
-
-<p>“Granny, I’m goin’ inter business, like other men.”</p>
-
-<p>“Bless the boy! what does he mean?”</p>
-
-<p>“Two fellers giv me a cent just now, and they
-earned it a-shinin’ boots, and I’m goin’ to ’sist you
-and grow rich, granny.”</p>
-
-<p>Granny stopped punching her clothes, came out of
-the steam, and sat down to laugh at the new man of
-business.</p>
-
-<p>Chub’s round face glowed with honest determination,
-and his roly-poly figure straighted as well as it
-could.</p>
-
-<p>“Yes, <i>ma’am</i>! I’m a-goin fur a bootblack, and
-I’m goin’ to buy an orange as soon as I earn a cent.”</p>
-
-<p>“Where you goin’ ter git yer box and brushes, hey,
-Chub?” asked Granny, renewing her attack upon the
-wash-boiler and its contents.</p>
-
-<p>The boy’s countenance fell, and visions of oranges
-faded slowly and reluctantly from his eyes. Suddenly,
-however, he remembered his friend Sim Hardy, who
-frequently gave him the uneaten end of a banana, and
-now and then part of a stick of licorice, for which favors
-Chub had yielded in return a large share of his
-warm little heart.</p>
-
-<p>“Sim’ll get me a box, ’thout it’s costin’ anythin’.
-Maybe he’ll hook one fur a little chap like me.”</p>
-
-<p>Granny rested from her labors and turned a stern
-face upon the boy.</p>
-
-
-
-<p>“Thomas Brown, never dare you lift a finger of
-yourn to touch what’s been stole. Remember who’s
-watchin’ ye all the time, and don’t go fur to sile the
-family name of Brown. If yer do, I’ll trounce yer
-well for it, there, now!”</p>
-
-<div class="figcenter">
-<img src="images/fig70.jpg" alt="" />
-<p class="caption">“<span class="smcap">Granny, I’am goin’ inter business, like other men.</span>”</p>
-</div>
-
-<p>It was probably the last awful threat that awed
-Chub into obedience, for he gave no more thought to
-Sim’s way of getting a machine for him, but tried to
-think of another plan.</p>
-
-<p>It wasn’t long, however, before his friends among
-the bootblacks raised a sum between them and presented
-Chub with the necessary capital with which to
-begin business in earnest. And to granny’s delight
-her boy started off one fine morning regularly equipped
-for his first battle for daily bread&mdash;and an orange.</p>
-
-<p>For a long time the little, six-years-old bootblack
-sat on the Astor House steps awaiting custom. But
-big boys somehow grabbed all the jobs, and nobody
-noticed little Chub, nor heard his weak cry, “Shine
-yer up fur ten cents! Want a shine, sir?”</p>
-
-<p>So when night came, the little fellow shouldered his
-box and went home, minus his orange, and with pockets
-as empty as when he started from home. He
-cried a little, to be sure, and granny comforted him
-with kisses, and put him to bed tenderly. For nearly
-a week things worked very badly for Chub. Business
-didn’t prosper, and sitting all day in the hot sun made
-the little fellow sick of trying to be a man and do
-business. He couldn’t somehow make the thing
-work, and Sim Hardy, the friend who would have
-taught him, was busy on another route, and so Chub
-sat swinging his little bare feet all day, with nothing
-to do but watch the sky and wish he could fly up to
-“that other world” where he didn’t believe the “angels
-would let him go so long without a job.”</p>
-
-<p>One night he went home with
-two ten cent stamps in his pocket,
-and a prouder boy never lived.
-But granny’s anxious eyes saw
-an unusual flush on the boy’s
-cheeks, and the little hands felt
-dry and hot. And that night the
-boy was restless and talked in
-his sleep.</p>
-
-<p>It had been a fearfully hot day,
-and granny feared the child was
-suffering from sunstroke. So she
-kept ice on his head, and with
-part of the newly-earned money
-bought some medicine which
-quieted Chub and gave him an
-hour’s sweet sleep just before
-sunrise.</p>
-
-<p>Then he opened his blue eyes
-and told granny about a dream
-in which he had seen a beautiful
-angel peep out of a little window
-in the sky and look all about as
-if searching for something. And
-presently Chub heard a voice
-say, “Oh, there’s little Chub!
-I’ve found him.” Then, as he
-looked up to see who had called
-his name from the clouds, the window opened wide,
-and the angel spread beautiful white wings, as white
-as snow, and fluttered gently down with arms opened
-lovingly towards Chub, who dreamed he was sitting
-with his box all that time on the Astor House steps.
-But just before she reached him he woke up, and, lo
-and behold, all the angel his waking eyes saw was
-dear old granny, who stood with a cooling drink beside
-the bed, and fanned away the tormenting flies.</p>
-
-<p>So Chub told his dream. Granny wiped her eyes
-with the corner of her apron, and hugged her boy
-closer.</p>
-
-<div class="figcenter">
-<img src="images/fig71.jpg" alt="" />
-<p class="caption">“<span class="smcap">Want a shine, sir?</span>”</p>
-</div>
-
-<p>“The angels can’t have ye yet, Tommy,” she said.
-“Yer granny’s boy, and this wurrld is good enuff fur
-ye this long while yet.”</p>
-
-<p>Chub felt better the next day, and went out to his
-day’s business with a stout little heart, and eyes full
-of sunbeams. Some of the sunshine of the day crept
-out of the little room with him when he left granny
-alone over her wash-tubs, but she knew when he returned
-at night he would bring it all back again. So
-she scrubbed and rubbed and boiled and punched her
-clothes, until the room resembled cloud-land, and the
-white clothes hanging on lines shone out of the mist
-like the white wings Chub had talked about.</p>
-
-<p class="gtb">. . . . . . . .</p>
-
-<p>“Oh, dear! Them big fellers don’t give a little
-chap a chance at all, at all.”</p>
-
-<p>A big sigh shook Chub’s breast as he muttered this,
-wiping the perspiration from his face, and settling the
-torn hat more comfortably on his curly head. He
-slid down from his seat, and stood on the edge of the
-sidewalk a minute, waiting a chance to cross.</p>
-
-<p>Hark! what a swift galloping of hoofs on the cobble-stones!
-Down the street, the closely-crowded street,
-dashed a runaway horse, dragging the light buggy,
-whose owner had just vacated it. Everybody scampered
-right and left in the first moment of terror, but
-a wee child, frightened from its nurse’s hand, stands
-directly in the path of the swift-coming animal.</p>
-
-<p>Impulsively Chub, the boy of six years, the brave
-little business man, flings his blacking-box directly at
-the head of the runaway horse, and as fast as his short
-legs can carry him he rushes for the child whose
-life is in peril. In one instant the horse, startled by
-the well-aimed blow, turns aside, and then plunges on
-despite the efforts of strong arms to stop him.</p>
-
-<p>That instant spared the little girl, but Chub’s box
-had opened the sky-window for him&mdash;poor little fellow&mdash;for
-over his brave little figure, crushing the life
-from his braver heart, passed the animal which had
-jumped on one side when the box struck him, and
-directly in Chub’s line.</p>
-
-<p>They lifted him tenderly, and laid him on the broad
-step which had been the only business office Chub had
-owned. But only once the blue eyes opened, and then
-they sought the blue sky above, and even strong men
-felt tears in their eyes when faintly and gaspingly the
-dying boy cried, “Oh, angel! angel! here’s little
-Chub a-waitin’ fur yer; don’t ye see him?”</p>
-
-<p>Then upward reached the small, brown arms, and
-downward fluttered the white lids, which were raised
-never on earth again, not even when granny’s tears
-covered the round, white face, and her arms clasped
-close the little roly-poly figure which had suddenly
-grown so stiff and helpless.</p>
-
-<p>Up to “that other world,” through the “sky-window,”
-the white-winged angel had borne little Chub;
-and all that had puzzled him on earth was, maybe, in
-his angel-mother’s arms, made clear to him at last.</p>
-
-<div class="figcenter">
-<img src="images/fig72.jpg" alt="" />
-</div>
-
-
-<hr class="full x-ebookmaker-drop" />
-
-<div class="chapter">
-
-
-<h2 class="nobreak" id="c15">LITTLE BOY BLUE</h2>
-</div>
-
-<hr class="r5" />
-<p class="c more">BY C. A. GOODENOW.</p>
-<hr class="r6" />
-
-
-
-
-<p class="drop-cap">NOT the identical one that slept under the haystack,
-while the cows trampled the corn; no,
-indeed, he was quite too wide awake for that! Our
-little Boy Blue had another name; but he was seldom
-called by it, and did not much like it when he was.
-For when he heard people say “John Allison Ware!”
-he knew that he was in mischief, and justice was
-about to be meted unto him.</p>
-
-<p>Why was he called little Boy Blue? Because,
-when he was a tiny baby, his eyes were so very blue&mdash;“real
-ultramarine,” Aunt Sue said; but baby only
-wrinkled his nose at the long word, and mamma
-smiled.</p>
-
-<p>However, the eyes kept their wonderful color as
-the baby grew up, so the name was kept, too.</p>
-
-<p>Boy Blue had four sisters: three older, one younger,
-than himself. He used, sometimes, to wish for a
-brother, but mostly he was too busy to worry over
-trifles. He had so much to do the days were not long
-enough.</p>
-
-<p>He had to work in his garden; it was about as
-large as a pocket-handkerchief, but it required a great
-deal of care. He had to feed the kitty, help shell
-the peas for dinner, ride on the saw-horse, and be an
-ice-man, a strawberry-seller, a coal-heaver and a fish-monger,
-all with only the aid of his wheelbarrow.</p>
-
-<p>Above all, he had to help Jotham.</p>
-
-<p>What Jotham would have done without his help I
-cannot tell. With it, he kept the garden in order,
-mended the broken tools, made sleds, swings, skipping-ropes,
-carts and baby-houses for the five little Wares.</p>
-
-<p>If Jotham could not have got along without Boy
-Blue, I am sure the little Wares would have sadly
-missed Jotham.</p>
-
-<p>One day Jotham was making a sled for Elsie. It
-was June, and people do not usually wish to slide on
-the daisies and clover; but Jotham liked to get things
-finished early. I suppose he knew, too, that when
-Elsie’s sled was done he would have to make one
-a-piece for Lill, for Dora, for Boy Blue, and for little
-Tot; so, perhaps, he thought from June to December
-was not too long time for so much work.</p>
-
-<p>The sled was ready to be painted; and blue paint,
-in a nice little bucket, with a small brush in it, was
-waiting for the sled. Boy Blue stood by helping.</p>
-
-<p>Just then somebody called Jotham into the house.</p>
-
-<p>“I might paint a little until he comes back,”
-thought Boy Blue. “Don’t fink I’d better, maybe.
-Elsie said blue stripes; ’haps I shouldn’t get them
-even. H’m!”</p>
-
-<p>The blue eyes twinkled, and the funny little mouth
-was puckered in a round, rosy button as their owner
-considered the matter.</p>
-
-<p>“I might practice, first,” said Boy Blue.</p>
-
-<p>So he tugged the paint-bucket down from the
-bench; he slopped a little over, too. It did not fall
-on his trowsers; they were short, and fastened at the
-knee with three buttons; the blue splashes were on
-the white stockings below the trowsers, and Boy Blue
-saw them.</p>
-
-<p>“But <i>they</i> will wash,” said he to himself.</p>
-
-<p>Then Boy Blue and the paint-bucket walked off behind
-the tool-house; that was a good place to practice,
-because the clapboards were so smooth, and of a
-nice gray color, on which the blue paint showed
-beautifully.</p>
-
-<p>“I’ll make five stripes, ’cause I’m most five years
-old,” thought Boy Blue.</p>
-
-<p>The first were crooked, and he had to make five
-more; they-were too long, so he made some shorter
-ones. Soon all the side of the tool-house, as high as
-his short arm could reach, was painted in blue
-stripes.</p>
-
-<p>“If I only had a ladder!” mused Boy Blue.
-“Fink I’d better get one.”</p>
-
-<p>He trudged into the shed, still carrying the paint-bucket;
-it was not so full now as when Jotham left it,
-and did not slop much.</p>
-
-<p>There was no ladder in the shed, so he went on
-into the barn.</p>
-
-
-
-<div class="figcenter">
-<img src="images/fig73.jpg" alt="" />
-</div>
-
-
-
-<p>“Ouf! ouf!” grunted Piggy White, hearing steps,
-and expecting dinner.</p>
-
-<p>“I’m busy now, Piggy White,” said Boy Blue, looking
-over the side of the pen. “I’m painting. Oh
-my! Piggy White, you’d look just beautiful if you
-only had some blue stripes!”</p>
-
-<p>Piggy White was a young pig, quite clean and
-pretty; the little Wares made a pet of him. He had
-a fresh straw bed every night, and Jotham took a deal
-of care to keep his house tidy. He was so accustomed
-to visits from the children he only gently
-grunted in reply to Boy Blue’s remark.</p>
-
-<p>The next thing seen of that small lad he had
-climbed over and was as busy over Piggy White as
-he had been on the tool-house. Piggy liked to have
-his back rubbed, and was very quiet while Boy Blue
-painted a long stripe down his spine and shorter ones
-across his sides.</p>
-
-<p>“Piggy White, <i>if</i> you wig your tail so I fink I’ll
-scold. I want to paint the end of it.”</p>
-
-<p>By this time there was not much paint in the
-bucket, but there was a great deal on Boy Blue’s
-hands, on his stockings, on the short trowsers, and on
-the front of his little blouse.</p>
-
-<p>“H’m!” said Boy Blue, suddenly looking up. “I
-fink&mdash;Jotham&mdash;I fink I’ve got frough.”</p>
-
-<p>“The land of liberty!” said Jotham, looking down.
-“You’re <i>blue</i>, sure enough.”</p>
-
-<p>Then he picked up the little workman and carried
-him into the house.</p>
-
-<p>When mamma had been out and looked at the tool-house
-and Piggy White, and had come in and looked
-at Boy Blue, she said what she had said about five
-hundred times:</p>
-
-<p>“I don’t know what I <i>shall</i> do with you!”</p>
-
-<p>But she did. For she told Nurse Norah to give
-him a bath.</p>
-
-<p>When he had been scrubbed and rubbed and dried,
-and stood very red and warm to have his hair brushed,
-he sobbed:</p>
-
-<p>“Somebody didn’t ought to look after me better!”</p>
-
-<p>“Sure, ’twould take a paycock’s eyes, and more, to
-look after sich a stirabout! Now run, see the organ-man
-with your sisters, and be good,” said Norah.</p>
-
-<p>The organ-man carried a monkey, and the monkey
-carried a tambourine, with which he played such
-pranks the little Wares fell off the steps one after
-another in fits of laughter, and Boy Blue decided at
-once to buy that monkey if he could. So when the
-organ-man went away Boy Blue followed. Only Tot
-saw him go, for the others were running back to the
-nursery to see if the dolls were awake. And Tot
-could not make people understand what her little,
-lisping tongue meant to say.</p>
-
-<p>It grew late and later; it was almost dark. Boy
-Blue did not come home. They began to wonder;
-they began to be anxious; they began to look for
-him. They called his name everywhere. They
-shouted, “Little Boy Blue! Boy Blu-u-u-e! Blu-u-u-ue!”</p>
-
-<p>He did not come. They thought what if he should
-never come back!</p>
-
-<p>Mamma cried.</p>
-
-<p>“Somebody has stolen him!” said Norah.</p>
-
-<p>“He is drowned!”</p>
-
-<p>“He is run over!”</p>
-
-<p>“He is&mdash;”</p>
-
-<p>“<i>Here</i> he is!”</p>
-
-<p>So he was! They had looked everywhere and inquired
-of everybody, and given up in despair. Papa
-and Jotham had gone to get help in searching for
-him. Mamma was in distress. And there little Boy
-Blue came walking into the house himself!</p>
-
-<p>“Where have you been?” cried the sisters.</p>
-
-<p>He had followed the monkey until he was tired,
-had come back unseen, had climbed into the hammock
-in the orchard, and had been asleep there ever
-since.</p>
-
-<p>“And we just crazed about ye, ye bad boy!” said
-Norah, while mamma hugged him.</p>
-
-<p>“You needn’t fink <i>I’d</i> get lost,” said Boy Blue,
-proudly. “<i>I</i> don’t do such fings. I want my supper!”</p>
-
-<p>He had it. But at our house we still keep asking
-this question:</p>
-
-<div class="poetry-container">
-<div class="poetry">
-<div class="stanza">
-<div class="verse indent0">“What <i>shall</i> we do</div>
-<div class="verse indent0">With little Boy Blue?”</div>
-</div>
-</div>
-</div>
-
-<hr class="full x-ebookmaker-drop" />
-
-<div class="chapter">
-
-
-<h2 class="nobreak" id="c16">GHOSTS AND WATER-MELONS.</h2>
-</div>
-
-<hr class="r5" />
-<p class="c more">BY J. H. WOODBURY.</p>
-<hr class="r6" />
-
-
-
-
-<p class="drop-cap">BOBBY TATMAN was a little Yankee fellow, but
-he looked like an Italian boy, with his tangly
-brown hair, and his soft, simple dark eyes. He was very
-fond of water-melons; but he was very much afraid of
-ghosts; and in his simple heart he believed everything
-that was told him, and thereby hangs a tale.</p>
-
-<p>There was a man, whom all the neighbors knew as
-Uncle Ben, who had some very fine water-melons&mdash;which
-Bobby knew all about&mdash;for they were only
-about a mile from Bobby’s father’s house.</p>
-
-<p>These were the nearest water-melons that Bobby
-knew of, and he used to go over occasionally, with his
-friend James Scott, to look at them, and see how they
-were coming on. Both Bobby and his friend grew
-much interested in the melons, as they were ripening,
-and Bobby wondered why his father did not raise
-water-melons, too. This was not a large patch, and it
-was in a sunny nook of Uncle Ben’s farm, out of sight
-from his house.</p>
-
-<p>“It wouldn’t be stealing to take water-melons,” remarked
-Bobby’s friend one day, as the two were sitting
-on the fence alongside the little patch. “It wouldn’t
-be any more stealing than picking off corn to roast,
-when we go a-fishing, would be stealing, as I can
-see.”</p>
-
-<p>“I don’t know as it would be,” Bobby admitted,
-musingly. “I <i>should</i> like that old big fellow! Uncle
-Ben says that’s a <i>mountain-sweet</i>. But it would <i>almost</i>
-be stealing to take that one, sure! and Uncle Ben
-would miss it the first thing, too.”</p>
-
-<p>“I s’pose he would,” said James, “and then there’d
-be a row. It won’t do to take that one. I tell you
-what, Bobby, we won’t take any of ’em now, but we’ll
-come to-night, after dark, and then there won’t be any
-danger of anybody’s seeing us. Of course it won’t be
-stealing; but Uncle Ben’s just mean enough to make
-a row about it, I s’pose, if he should happen to find
-it out.”</p>
-
-<p>“I guess he would,” said Bobby. “I shouldn’t
-want to have him see us, anyhow.”</p>
-
-<p>And so, not to run any risk, they concluded to
-wait.</p>
-
-<p>When it was night they came again, and sat together
-upon the same fence, listening for a time for
-sounds of any others who might be approaching,
-before they got down to select their melons. All was
-still, and, feeling secure from detection, they got down
-and began to search among the vines. They could
-tell by rapping upon the melons which the ripe ones
-were, and it was not long till they had made their
-selection, and were scudding away, each with a melon
-almost as large as he could carry, along the fence
-towards Uncle Ben’s corn-field, which was still farther
-from his house.</p>
-
-<p>When they got to the corn-field they felt safe, and,
-as the melons were heavy, they concluded to eat one
-before going further. So they sat down in a nook of
-the fence&mdash;a Virginia rail-fence, as we used to call
-that kind&mdash;and Bobby took out a knife that he
-thought a great deal of&mdash;because his Aunt Hannah
-had given it him, and it had his initials on a little silver
-plate set in the handle&mdash;and in a moment more
-they were eating and praising the delicious melon.</p>
-
-<p>“Of course ’tain’t stealing,” said James Scott, as
-Bobby again brought up that question. “Uncle Ben
-always does have better water-melons than anybody
-else, and he can’t expect to have ’em <i>all</i> to himself.
-What’s the use of living in a free country, if you can’t
-have a water-melon once in a while? Help yourself.
-Bobby&mdash;but don’t eat too near the rind.”</p>
-
-<p>Bobby helped himself,&mdash;though he could not help
-thinking all the time that it was to Uncle Ben’s water-melon,&mdash;and
-the boys filled up, gradually, till they
-could hold no more. Then each had a great shell
-that would have almost floated him, had he felt like
-going to sea in it, and the question was, what to do
-with them.</p>
-
-<p>“Let’s tuck ’em under the bottom rail,” said James;
-“they won’t be noticed there.”</p>
-
-<p>So they tucked them under the lower rail&mdash;a
-broad, flat rail that seemed to have been made on
-purpose to cover them&mdash;and then they both got
-straight up on their feet to stretch themselves. In
-the same instant they both started suddenly, and took
-to their heels.</p>
-
-<p>They ran till they were out of breath; and James
-Scott got a long way ahead of his friend Bobby. But
-Bobby came up with James before he started again,
-and asked, as soon as he could get breath enough,
-“<i>Was it Uncle Ben?</i>”</p>
-
-<p>“It must have been him, or his ghost,” was the
-reply. “Did you see his legs, Bobby?”</p>
-
-<p>“No. Did you?”</p>
-
-<p>“It didn’t look as if he had any. He was a queer-looking
-chap, anyhow.”</p>
-
-<p>“I wonder if he’s coming?” And Bobby seemed
-almost ready to start again. “Do you s’pose he knew
-us?”</p>
-
-<p>“Shouldn’t wonder if he did. But, if ’twas Uncle
-Ben, he’d know he couldn’t catch us. He must have
-been there all the time. I say, Bobby, I’m afraid
-we’ll hear about this.”</p>
-
-<p>“I don’t see how he happened to be right there!
-Oh, dear! I left my knife, too!”</p>
-
-<p>“I guess if t’was Uncle Ben he’ll take care of that.
-Of course he’ll know who it belongs to. If he gets
-that knife, he hadn’t oughter say anything about the
-water-melon. It’s worth more’n both on ’em.”</p>
-
-<p>“I know it. Don’t you suppose it <i>was</i> Uncle Ben’s
-<i>ghost</i>, after all? I wish it was!”</p>
-
-<p>“It couldn’t have been, unless he’s died since
-noon, you know. He looked well enough then. Do
-you s’pose it would be of any use to go back,
-Bobby?”</p>
-
-<p>“No, indeed! I’d rather go home. I wish I had
-my knife, though. I wonder why he didn’t speak?”</p>
-
-<p>“That’s what <i>I</i> don’t understand. I should have
-thought he would just said something, before we got
-out of hearing.”</p>
-
-<p>“Like as not it wasn’t him, after all.”</p>
-
-<p>“Like as not it wasn’t, Bobby. S’posing we go
-back.”</p>
-
-<p>“I’m going home,” was Bobby’s reply. “I don’t
-believe it pays to steal water-melons, anyway.”</p>
-
-<p>“’Twasn’t stealing, Bobby!&mdash;no such thing! Of
-course anybody’s a right to take a water-melon. Uncle
-Ben had no business to raise ’em, if folks had got to
-steal ’em before they could eat ’em!”</p>
-
-<p>“That’s so,” groaned Bobby. “I shouldn’t have
-thought he’d have planted them.”</p>
-
-<p>And so, groaning in spirit, Bobby went home. He
-had lost his knife, and everybody would know next
-day that he had been stealing water-melons. He
-couldn’t help thinking that the folks would call it
-<i>stealing</i>, after all.</p>
-
-<p>What to do he didn’t know; but he must go home
-at all events. He was never out very late, and when
-he went in his mother asked him where he had been.
-He said he had been over to James Scott’s.</p>
-
-<p>“I don’t like to have you over there so much,
-Bobby,” said his mother. “I am afraid James Scott
-is not a very good boy.”</p>
-
-<p>Bobby’s face was flushed, and he seemed very tired,
-so his mother told him he had better go to bed. He
-was glad enough to go, but he lay a long time thinking
-of his knife and the water-melons, and of Uncle Ben
-standing there by the fence, before he went to sleep.</p>
-
-<p>Bobby slept in the attic, up under the roof. There
-was another bed in the same attic for the hired man.
-There were also a great many things for which there
-was no room anywhere else,&mdash;large chests, piles of
-bedding, and things that had got past use.</p>
-
-<p>Bobby got to sleep at last; but he awoke in the
-night&mdash;something unusual for him&mdash;after the moon
-had risen, and was giving just light enough to show
-things in the room very dimly. He opened his eyes,
-and almost the first object he saw caused his heart to
-beat very quickly. Somebody was sitting upon one
-of those large chests. It was a dim and indistinct
-form, but it looked ghostly white in the moonlight,
-and Bobby could not help feeling afraid. He had
-never seen a ghost, fairly, but he began to think now
-that he had one in his room.</p>
-
-<p>Bobby lay and watched that ghost, feeling warm
-and cold by turns, till at last he was sure it was beginning
-to look like Uncle Ben. The wind had begun
-to blow, and to move the branches of the old elm
-outside, thus causing the moonlight to flicker fitfully
-in the room. It seemed as if it must be Uncle Ben!
-Bobby could see him laugh, though he could not hear
-a sound except the sighing wind and the swaying
-branches of the old elm, mingling dolefully with the
-snoring of the hired man.</p>
-
-<p>The ghost laughed and shook his head by turns,
-and pointed his finger at Bobby, as if to say, “<i>I’ve
-marked you!</i>”</p>
-
-<p>Bobby began to imagine that Uncle Ben had been
-run over by a cart, or killed in some way that very
-afternoon, and that his ghost was really there. He
-was almost glad it was so, for he could endure the
-ghost, disagreeable as he felt his presence to be, much
-better than meet Uncle Ben alive, with that knife in
-his possession.</p>
-
-<p>So he shivered, and sweat, and reasoned himself
-more firmly into the belief that it was Uncle Ben’s
-ghost that was sitting on the chest. He was glad of
-it, for now he could go in the morning and find his
-knife, and hide that other water-melon before anyone
-else should pass that way. Still the presence of the
-ghost was very disagreeable to him; and at last he
-ventured to go and get into the other bed with the
-hired man, rather than lie longer alone.</p>
-
-<p>The hired man stopped snoring, turned over, woke
-up, and asked Bobby what was the matter.</p>
-
-<p>“There’s somebody up here,” said Bobby, ashamed
-to own that it was a ghost.</p>
-
-<p>“Who? where?” and the hired man sat up and
-looked around.</p>
-
-<p>“On that chest,” said Bobby. “Don’t you see
-him?”</p>
-
-<p>“Ye&mdash;yes; I see him.” And, as if afraid to
-speak again, the hired man watched the blinking
-countenance of the stranger closely.</p>
-
-<p>After a moment he got out of bed carefully, saying
-in a whisper as he did so:</p>
-
-<p>“How long has he been there, Bobby?”</p>
-
-<p>“Ever so long,” was Bobby’s reply. “Ain’t it a
-ghost?”</p>
-
-<p>“I guess so. I’ll find out, at all events,” and the
-bold fellow moved carefully towards it.</p>
-
-<p>He approached on tiptoe till he could almost touch
-it, and then he stopped.</p>
-
-<p>“It’s a ghost, Bobby,” said he, “sure enough; but
-I’ll fix him!”</p>
-
-<p>He just drew back one arm, and planted a prodigious
-blow right in the ghost’s stomach; and you
-ought to have seen that ghost jump!</p>
-
-<p>It went almost out of the window at one leap; but
-fell short, on the floor, and lay as if dead. The hired
-man went boldly back and got into bed, remarking:</p>
-
-<p>“That’s one of the ghosts we read about, Bobby;
-I guess he won’t trouble <i>us</i> any more!”</p>
-
-<p>Bobby did not quite understand it. He began to
-think that Uncle Ben might be still living; but he
-went to sleep again, at last, and the next time he
-awoke it was morning. It was daylight, and the hired,
-man had gone down-stairs. He looked for the ghost.
-There he lay, sure enough, very quiet on the floor,
-but, after all, it was only a bag of feathers!</p>
-
-<p>So Bobby felt sure he would have to meet Uncle
-Ben, and that everybody would know all about it; and
-he felt very miserable all day, waiting for him to come.
-He did not go near James Scott, for he felt that it
-was largely owing to him that he had got into trouble.
-It wasn’t at all likely that he could or would help him
-out of it. He wanted dreadfully to go and look for
-his knife, but would no more have done that than he
-would have gone and drowned himself. Indeed, he
-did think rather seriously of doing the last; but,
-being a good swimmer, he supposed the probabilities
-would be against his sinking; and besides, he still
-had a regard for the feelings of his mother.</p>
-
-<p>It was a miserably long day, but after all Uncle Ben
-did not come. What could it mean? Bobby did not
-know, but he went to bed and slept better the next
-night. And the next day his fears began to wear
-away. It was night again, and still Uncle Ben had
-not come.</p>
-
-<p>The third morning Bobby was almost himself again.
-He was resolved, now, to go and look for his knife.
-It must be that Uncle Ben had not found it. If he
-had, he would certainly have made it known before
-this. He was quite sure, too, that Uncle Ben could
-not have known who those two boys were. So he
-went, with a lightened heart, early in the day, to look
-for his knife.</p>
-
-<p>Of course he took a roundabout way, that he might
-keep as far from Uncle Ben’s house as possible.
-Judge of his surprise and relief when he saw, on
-coming in sight of the spot, not Uncle Ben, but a
-dilapidated <i>scarecrow</i>. It stood leaning against the
-fence, where, having served its time, Uncle Ben had
-probably left it, neglected and forgotten. Being arrayed
-in one of Uncle Ben’s old coats, it did have a
-strange resemblance to the old man himself.</p>
-
-<p>“It’s all right, after all,” thought Bobby, and he
-hurried confidently forward to pick up his knife. But
-imagine now the surprise and fright that came into
-Bobby’s soft eyes when he found that his knife was
-not there! Neither the knife, the water-melon, <i>nor the
-water-melon rinds</i>! All were gone.</p>
-
-<p>Without stopping long, Bobby turned to retrace his
-steps. But as he did so some one called to him. It
-was Uncle Ben; and he stopped again and stood
-mute.</p>
-
-<p>“I’ve been waiting to see ye, Bobby,” said the old
-man, coming up. “I reckoned you’d come for your
-knife, and I thought you’d rather see me here than
-have me bring it home to ye. Of course I knew you’d
-been here, when I found this, but it wasn’t likely
-you’d come alone. I’m sorry you’ve been in bad
-company, Bobby. Your father and mother think
-you’re a good boy, and I don’t want them to think
-any other way. Of course <i>you</i> don’t want them to
-think any other way, either, do you, Bobby?” And
-the old man looked kindly down into the soft eyes.</p>
-
-<p>Bobby made out to say that he did not.</p>
-
-<p>“That’s the reason, Bobby, why I didn’t bring the
-knife home. I thought I’d better give it to ye here.
-Now take it, and don’t for the world ever say a word
-to anybody how you lost it. And I want ye to come
-down to the melon-patch with me, for I’m going to
-send a nice mountain-sweet over to your mother.”</p>
-
-<p>Bobby took his knife, and followed Uncle Ben,
-unable to utter a word. As they went along, the old
-man talked to him of his corn and his pumpkins, just
-as if there was no reason in the world why he and
-Bobby should not be on the best of terms. He
-seemed to have quite forgotten that Bobby had ever
-stolen anything from him. Arrived at the patch he
-picked off one of the finest melons, as large as the
-boy could carry, and, after a little more talk, sent him
-with it to his mother.</p>
-
-<p>And so, after all, Bobby’s heart never felt lighter
-than it did that morning, after he had left Uncle Ben.
-He had at last found words to thank him, and to say
-that he was very sorry for what he had done, but
-scarce more. But that was all Uncle Ben wanted;
-and, so long as he lived, after that, he had no truer
-friend among the neighbor’s boys than Bobby Tatman.</p>
-<hr class="full x-ebookmaker-drop" />
-
-<div class="chapter">
-
-
-<h2 class="nobreak" id="c17">FUNNY LITTLE ALICE.</h2>
-</div>
-
-<hr class="r5" />
-<p class="c more">BY MRS. FANNY BARROW (“AUNT FANNY”).</p>
-<hr class="r6" />
-
-
-<p class="drop-cap">ONCE on a time, not long ago, four little girls
-lived together in a large farm-house. It was
-quite by itself&mdash;on the top of a hill with thick woods
-all around it&mdash;but as it was full of people from the
-city, thirty miles away, and as these people were always
-polite to each other, and it was warm, sweet
-summer-time, they were very happy together.</p>
-
-<p>Daisy and May were sisters; Katie had another father
-and mother, and funny little Alice was the only
-child of a lady whose husband was dead, so Alice had
-no father. Poor little thing!</p>
-
-<p>But as she was only two and a half years old, she
-was too young to feel very sorry for herself, especially
-as all the ladies in the house loved and petted her;
-every gentleman rode her to “Banbury Cross” on his
-foot, and “jumped her” almost as high as the ceiling;
-and Daisy, May and Kate, who were each seven
-years old, let her come in to all their plays&mdash;which
-I hope <i>you</i> also do, my little reader, with your baby
-sisters and brothers.</p>
-
-<p>One day Alice was walking in the road with her
-nurse. She had seen one of the ladies pick a checkerberry
-leaf out of the grass and eat it, so she pulled up
-a handful of leaves and crammed them into her
-mouth.</p>
-
-<p>“Oh, take them out, take them out! Do, Alice!”
-cried the nurse. “They may be poison! If you
-swallow them you will die, and have to lie in the cold
-grave, and the worms will eat you up!”</p>
-
-<p>But the nurse had to pull her mouth open, and dig
-out the leaves, for Alice had never before heard of
-the cold grave, and she did not care a button about it.</p>
-
-<p>That night her mamma, with whom the little girl
-slept, was awakened by a feeling as if some one were
-choking her, and found Alice sleeping with her curly
-head buried in her mother’s neck, and the rest of her
-little fat body spread across her breast. She lifted
-the child gently, and put her back on her own pillow.
-But the next instant Alice flung herself again on her
-mother.</p>
-
-<p>“Don’t, dear,” she said; “you <i>must</i> lie on your
-own side. It hurts me to have your head on my
-throat.”</p>
-
-<p>“Well,” said the sleepy little thing, “if you don’t
-let me I shall die, and have to lie in the <i>told drave</i>,
-and the <i>wullims</i> will eat me up.”</p>
-
-<p>Her mother was perfectly astonished at this speech.
-She could not imagine where Alice had heard it; but
-<i>we</i> know, don’t we?</p>
-
-<p>The farmer had a poor old fiddle-headed white
-horse, whose stiff old legs couldn’t run away if the rest
-of him wanted to, and the young ladies used to drive
-him by themselves in a buggy. The morning after
-Alice’s speech two young ladies took her driving with
-them. She sat on a little bench at their feet, and
-went off in high glee.</p>
-
-<p>It was cloudy, and, for fear it might rain, they took
-a big waterproof cloak. Before they got back it was
-pouring down, so all were buttoned up in the cloak,
-with Alice’s little round rosy face just peeping out in
-front. The old white horse jogged on not a bit faster
-than usual, though Miss Lizzie, who was driving,
-slapped his back with the reins the whole time. At
-last he whisked up his tail, and twisted it in the
-reins.</p>
-
-<p>“Oh, now, just look at that horrid old tail!” said
-Miss Lizzie. “How am I ever to get rid of it?”</p>
-
-<p>“It is not a horrid old tail!” cried Alice, her
-sweet hazel eyes flashing. “It’s a nice white tail!
-He’s a booful horse, with a nice white tail.”</p>
-
-<p>“Well, so he is,” said Miss Lizzie, laughing. “So
-hurra for the booful horse!”</p>
-
-<p>This reminded the funny little thing of one of her
-songs, which she immediately set up at the top of her
-voice, and as they reached the house in the pouring
-rain, the ladies inside heard Alice singing with all her
-little might:</p>
-
-<div class="poetry-container">
-<div class="poetry">
-<div class="stanza">
-<div class="verse indent0">“Woar, boys, fevver!</div>
-<div class="verse indent0">Woar, boys, woar!</div>
-<div class="verse indent3">Down with the tritty!</div>
-<div class="verse indent0">Up with the ’tar!</div>
-<div class="verse indent4">We’ll rally round the f’ag, boys,</div>
-<div class="verse indent3">Rally round ’gain,</div>
-<div class="verse indent4">Shoutin’ the batter crider <i>fee</i>-dom!”<a id="FNanchor_3" href="#Footnote_3" class="fnanchor">[3]</a></div>
-</div>
-</div>
-</div>
-
-<div class="footnote">
-
-<p><a id="Footnote_3" href="#FNanchor_3" class="label">[3]</a> These are the words little Alice meant, as I suppose you all know:</p>
-
-<div class="poetry-container">
-<div class="poetry">
-<div class="stanza">
-<div class="verse indent0">“Hurra, boys, forever!</div>
-<div class="verse indent0">Hurra, boys, hurra!</div>
-<div class="verse indent3">Down with the traitor!</div>
-<div class="verse indent0">Up with the star!</div>
-<div class="verse indent4">We’ll rally round the flag, boys,</div>
-<div class="verse indent3">Rally round again,</div>
-<div class="verse indent4">Shouting the battle cry of freedom!”</div>
-</div>
-</div>
-</div>
-</div>
-
-
-<p>That afternoon, when it had cleared up, Daisy
-said:</p>
-
-<p>“Come, May, come, Katie, let’s take our dolls and
-have a picnic.”</p>
-
-<p>“I want to picnic, too,” cried Alice.</p>
-
-<p>“So you shall, you little darling,” said all the girls,
-running to her and kissing her, “and you can bring
-Nancy with you.”</p>
-
-<p>Nancy was a knit worsted doll, with two jet beads
-for eyes. She slept with Alice, who loved her dearly,
-and who now ran off to get her, in a great state of
-delight.</p>
-
-<p>The children took a lunch, of course; for who ever
-heard of a picnic without it? A stick of peppermint
-candy was broken in four pieces, which, with four
-ginger-cakes and four huge apples, begged from the
-farmer’s wife, were packed in a little basket, and then
-they set off, all running, for no girl or boy can walk
-when they are so happy; at least, I never knew of
-any&mdash;have you?</p>
-
-<p>The warm, bright sun had dried up all the drops on
-the grass long before. They ran merrily through the
-meadow at the back of the house, and soon got to the
-entrance to the wood. There they found a nice,
-mossy place, and, sitting down on the old roots of the
-trees, they spread their lunch on a large, flat stone
-that was near, and commenced to “tell stories.”</p>
-
-<p>“Last night,” began Daisy, “I woke up, and I
-thought I would get out of bed, and look out of the
-window; and what <i>do</i> you think I saw?”</p>
-
-<p>“Oh! what?” cried the rest, with their mouths
-wide open.</p>
-
-<p>“Why, I saw ten thousand diamonds dancing and
-sparkling in the dark.”</p>
-
-<p>“Oh, oh! I wish I had seen them!” cried May
-and Katie.</p>
-
-<p>This was the first time that Daisy had seen the
-fire-flies flashing their soft, bright lights. She did not
-mean to tell a falsehood; she really thought that they
-were diamonds.</p>
-
-<p>“My mamma went to a party last winter, and what
-<i>do</i> you think she ate?” asked Katie.</p>
-
-<p>“What?” inquired May and Daisy.</p>
-
-<p>“Frogs!” said Katie.</p>
-
-<p>“Oh! oh! how awful!” cried May and Daisy&mdash;but
-all this time little Alice had said nothing.</p>
-
-<p>“Once I saw an elephant,” said May in her turn.
-“It was in the menagerie. A little boy stuck a pin in
-his trunk, and he caught the boy up by his jacket, and
-shook him right out of it, and hurt him so! and he
-screamed like everything!”</p>
-
-<p>“Oh, oh! how dreadful!” exclaimed Katie and
-Daisy, but little Alice said nothing&mdash;because <i>she was
-not there</i>! While the others had been lost in wonder
-over the stories, she had trotted off farther into the
-woods, clasping her dear Nancy in her arms, and
-softly singing this queer little song:</p>
-
-<div class="poetry-container">
-<div class="poetry">
-<div class="stanza">
-<div class="verse indent0">“By-lo-by, my darlin’ baby,</div>
-<div class="verse indent5">Baby,</div>
-<div class="verse indent5">Taby,</div>
-<div class="verse indent5">Faby,</div>
-<div class="verse indent5">Maby,</div>
-<div class="verse indent6">Darlin’ baby.”</div>
-</div>
-</div>
-</div>
-
-<p>“There, now, she’s fas’ as’eep,” said Alice. “Sh!
-sh!” She laid Nancy softly down among the mossy
-roots of a hollow tree, and, sitting close beside her,
-she heaved a funny little sigh, and said: “Oh, my!
-that child will wear me out!” which was a speech her
-nurse had very often made to her.</p>
-
-<p>Soon there was a rustling sound. The hollow tree
-was full of dry, dead leaves, and out of these a huge
-black snake came crawling. It slowly curled itself
-round Nancy, and then lay quite still.</p>
-
-<p>Alice looked curiously at a creature she had never
-before seen, or even heard of. Then she put out one
-little fat hand, and gently patted the snake on its
-head.</p>
-
-<p>“Did you want to see my Nancy?” she asked.
-“Well, so you s’all, poor sing!” Then she smoothed
-the snake’s head, who appeared to like it very much,
-for it shut its eyes and seemed to sleep.</p>
-
-<p>And the sweet little tender-hearted child, never
-dreaming of any danger from the loathsome reptile,
-looked up and smiled at the birds piping over her
-head, and kept on softly smoothing the head of her
-plaything.</p>
-
-<p>And this was how “Mitter ’Trong,” as she called
-the gentleman who rode her oftenest to “Banbury
-Cross,” found Alice, as he was walking through the
-wood that summer afternoon. No wonder that he
-screamed, and rushed to her, and caught her up and
-kissed her, and almost cried, and then went at the
-snake with his stick.</p>
-
-<p>But it was as frightened as he was, and May, Daisy
-and Kate came running up, just as it was squirming
-back into the hollow tree. Then there were three
-more screams, and their six bright eyes grew perfectly
-wild with terror&mdash;while little Alice looked on very
-much surprised, but not a bit frightened.</p>
-
-<p>The children had missed their dear little playmate
-at last, and, very much alarmed and ashamed of their
-carelessness, were searching for her.</p>
-
-<p>Mr. Strong carried little Alice home in triumph on
-his shoulder, where she was kissed and cried over
-again, and Mr. Strong was thanked for saving her.</p>
-
-<p>The black snake might not have bitten her, but it
-might have squeezed such a little thing to death, so
-Mr. Strong and another gentleman went back, and
-poked the snake out of the hollow tree, and killed it;
-and, finding Nancy patiently waiting for some one to
-come for her, they brought her back to the arms of
-her cunning little mother. And after this, funny little
-Alice never went out without her nurse.</p>
-
-<p>We must bid her good-bye now, because this story
-is long enough; but some day I will tell you more
-about her.</p>
-
-<div class="figcenter">
-<img src="images/fig74.jpg" alt="" />
-</div>
-
-
-<hr class="full x-ebookmaker-drop" />
-
-<div class="chapter">
-
-
-<h2 class="nobreak" id="c18">“PRETTY,” AND HER VIOLIN.</h2>
-</div>
-
-<hr class="r5" />
-<p class="c more">BY HOLME MAXWELL.</p>
-<hr class="r6" />
-
-
-
-<p class="drop-cap">FELICE was a servant. She was just twenty
-years old, but she was like a child in our land.
-She talked a little, soft, broken English; our words
-were very, very hard for her fine, pretty Italian lips
-to manage. She was tall, and extremely refined and
-delicate; every one admits this now, but her little
-girl-mistress saw it at a glance, as Felice came in
-behind papa, pausing, tall and slender, with her
-exquisite brown hair and brown eyes, to be addressed.</p>
-
-<p>“Here is your mistress,” said the papa to Felice,
-indicating the young girl dressed in white. “She is
-the little woman of the house, and will tell you about
-your duties.”</p>
-
-<p>Felice bowed like a tall lily, as the “mistress,” so
-much younger and so much smaller than herself,
-came forward, slowly and with irregular steps, leaning
-upon a fairy sort of cane. “You are pretty,
-pretty, pretty&mdash;pretty as I could ask for,” said the
-young girl.</p>
-
-<p>Felice was not accustomed to be taken by her
-mistresses with two tender, white hands, and called
-“Pretty, pretty, pretty.” A soft color came into her
-pale, clear cheeks, and her eyes grew liquid as she
-bent over the little girl without speaking. But when
-the little girl turned away, looking so quaint in her
-stylish white dress, as she leaned upon her little cane,
-Felice instinctively followed her. She placed the
-velvet hassock under her feet as she sat down, and
-slipped the cane into the “rest” attached to the
-small lounging-chair.</p>
-
-<p>“Can you make a bed nicely, Pretty?” said the
-little girl.</p>
-
-<p>“Yes, mees,” answered Felice.</p>
-
-<p>“Can you put the room nicely, Pretty?”</p>
-
-<p>“Yes, mees.”</p>
-
-<p>“And do birds and flowers and gold-fish prosper
-with you, Pretty?”</p>
-
-<p>“I cannot tell you, mees.”</p>
-
-<p>“Can you sew nicely?”</p>
-
-<p>“Mees say <i>nicely</i>&mdash;no, alas! I work not with the
-needle, none, in four year.”</p>
-
-<p>“Well, then, can you read,&mdash;our English books?
-you know,&mdash;and a long while at a time? Pray,
-don’t say no.”</p>
-
-<p>“Alas, mees, I know not to read the Ingleese,
-none. Ah, mees, I think now to my heart this is one
-meestake. You wish not me. You wish not one
-chambermaid.”</p>
-
-<p>“You cannot know what I wish, my Pretty.” But
-the little mistress’s face was downcast and clouded.
-From under her sunny eyelashes she studied the long,
-slender, folded hands of poor “Pretty.” They were
-browned and hardened with rougher labors than hair-dressing,
-and embroidering, the mending of laces, or
-the tending of flowers.</p>
-
-<p>She pointed at last to a door across the hall.
-“Your room, Pretty. Have your things brought up.”</p>
-
-<p>“<i>Felice</i>,” corrected the soft Italian lips.</p>
-
-<p>“No, <i>Pretty</i>,” persisted the little mistress, with a
-lovely smile.</p>
-
-<p>This little girl of fourteen&mdash;Lulu Redfern&mdash;was
-mistress of many things: of a brown-stone mansion,
-of her papa, and of his immense wealth. She was
-almost like a fairy in her willfulness and in her power.
-Why might she not change her servant’s name if she
-chose?</p>
-
-<p>While “Pretty” was gone, Mr. Redfern came back.
-“Papa,” said the mistress, “of what were you thinking?
-Pretty does not sew, does not understand flowers
-and pets, does not read, does not even dress
-hair!”</p>
-
-<p>“Don’t she?” said papa, crestfallen. “Why, she
-looks as if she did.”</p>
-
-<p>“Papa, did you ask at all?”</p>
-
-<p>“No,” confessed papa, “I did not. I supposed,
-of course, she could; else why did she apply. Can’t
-she be of any use, my birdie?”</p>
-
-<p>“I don’t see how, papa.”</p>
-
-<p>“Well, then, we shall have to send her away, I
-suppose. I fancied she would be quite the person
-you would like to have about you&mdash;she is so different
-from that fluttering, nervous French Adele. But
-you certainly do not need another mere chambermaid.”</p>
-
-<p>“Yet, papa, I cannot have her go, now that she
-has come. Can’t I keep her, papa, to look at? She
-won’t cost so much as a Sevres vase.”</p>
-
-<p>Felice, with her droopy face and soft steps, was
-passing. She had a small satchel in one hand, and
-in the other&mdash;what do you suppose?</p>
-
-<p>A violin-case, little, black, old.</p>
-
-<p>“Whew!” said papa to himself. “That’s queer
-luggage.” But Miss Redfern did not see the queer
-luggage.</p>
-
-<p>So “Pretty” staid, on the footing of a Sevres vase;
-and drooped over and about her little mistress like a
-beautiful lily wherever she went, and that was nearly
-all she could do for many days.</p>
-
-<p>Now, this little girl, who could have everything
-almost, could not have everything quite. She loved
-music beyond all things else; but on account of her
-little lame feet she could not play. The grand piano
-was for the guests. Rare players used to come and
-play for her; and none of the music ever seemed to
-depart from the house, so that all the rooms were
-haunted by divine harmonies. When Lulu lay awake
-at night, kept awake by pain, the wondrous strains
-played themselves again at her ear, and the sweet,
-pure young soul took wings to itself, and swept away
-and away among lovely scenes, until lameness and
-pain and a thwarted life were quite forgotten.</p>
-
-<p>It was one night, about a week after Felice came.
-She had lifted her mistress into bed, and had said,
-“I wish you a most lofely good night, Mees Looloo,”
-and had gone. It was not a “most lofely” night.
-“Mees Looloo’s” little feet were throbbing with pain
-worse than ever before; but about midnight she was
-growing hushed and serene. There were wafts and
-breathings of Mendelssohn, and Wagner, and Mozart,
-and Beethoven all about her; and she was falling
-asleep, when, suddenly, a fine, sweet, joyous, living
-strain pierced through the dreamy songs and harmonies.</p>
-
-<p>Lulu lifted her head. She knew in a moment that
-<i>this</i> was real music. Enchanting as were her dreams
-by both night and day, no one so clear-headed as the
-little mistress. She had sat and listened too often
-for coming and going feet, for closing doors, to be
-mistaken as to the source of any sound. This midnight
-music came from “Pretty’s” room; and she
-who loved reed, and pipe, and horn, and string so
-well, knew that it was the rarest violin-music.</p>
-
-<p>It was entrancingly sweet. Air after air entirely
-unknown to the little music lover floated out on the
-still midnight. Poor little Miss Redfern! She buried
-her face in her pillows and sobbed in an ecstasy of
-happiness. “Now I know what it is so pure, so high,
-that I see in my Pretty’s face. It is that which is in
-the faces of all the artists that come here. My Pretty
-is no servant. Papa said that she looked as if she
-could do all these things&mdash;papa felt she was an
-artist. Papa could not help bring her, I could not
-help keep her,&mdash;O, my own Pretty!”</p>
-
-<p>By and by the music ceased; and, listening, Lulu
-heard the violin deposited in the box.</p>
-
-<p>She looked bright as a bird when her maid came
-to lift her to the bath, next morning. “Ah, Mees
-Looloo, I wish you a lofely good morning.”</p>
-
-<p>“It is both lovely and good, dear Pretty,” said the
-child-mistress, stooping to kiss the long artist fingers
-busy with her sleeve-buttons. “I understand these
-fingers now.”</p>
-
-<p>“Haf you not always understood their mooch slow
-ways, Mees Looloo?”</p>
-
-<p>“Mees Looloo” clasped the two strong, nervous
-hands close to her breast. “Pretty! I know what
-they were made for; they are the musician’s hands.
-I heard you last night. I heard a violin in your room.
-How could you have it here, Pretty, and not bring
-it out when I am often so tired and need to be
-soothed?”</p>
-
-<p>“O, Mees Looloo, I haf not thought. I haf played
-when I could not haf sleep to mine eyes, and haf
-thought of Etalee.”</p>
-
-<p>Then Lulu heard the simple story. It was the violin
-belonging to Felice’s father, and Felice had handled
-it from her babyhood. She had brought it to America
-and had carried it from place to place with her.
-Nobody had cared; nobody had questioned the poor
-young chambermaid.</p>
-
-<p>But “Mees Looloo” cared. “Pretty” brought the
-violin as simply as if bidden to bring a flower or a
-book. It was old, dark, rich&mdash;mellow in its hues as
-in its tones.</p>
-
-<p>“May papa come up?”</p>
-
-
-
-<div class="figcenter">
-<img src="images/fig75.jpg" alt="" />
-</div>
-
-
-
-<p>“I haf always lofed to please you, mees,” said
-“Pretty.” “But I haf nevaire learn moosic. I haf
-none other but vary old moosic.”</p>
-
-<p>There were, indeed, some old, yellow sheets of
-foreign music lying in the bottom of the case; but
-Felice did not take them out. “I know in my heart
-this moosic&mdash;father’s lofely moosic.”</p>
-
-<p>She lifted the instrument to her bosom. She laid
-her clear, dark cheek against it lovingly, in the unconscious
-fashion of the true lovers of the violin; her
-fingers, long, supple, dark, sounded the chords; the
-bow gleamed and glanced as it sought the strings;
-and, bending over it, “Pretty’s” young face paled and
-flushed gloriously, as the father’s “lofely moosic”
-stirred her two listeners to tears.</p>
-
-<p>The child mistress talked to papa in a very excited
-manner as he bore her away on his shoulder to the
-breakfast-room. Papa listened, papa thought, and,
-finally, papa assented.</p>
-
-<p>“I think so, dear. She is worth it! There are
-only you and I to spend the money, and why shall we
-not do as we like, birdie?”</p>
-
-<p>So little lame Miss Redfern was to be a Patron of
-Music. That was almost as good as to be a musician.</p>
-
-<p>“Pretty” could refuse nothing to her dear little mistress.
-In her loving simplicity she did as she was
-bidden, even to the trying on of one handsome dress
-after another when she was taken to the fine shops.
-And at night, after the hair-dresser was done with the
-soft curls of her brown hair, and she stood before the
-mirror in her lace frills and silk dress, she simply
-said in her soft, limited English, “You have made me
-mose lofely, Mees Looloo.”</p>
-
-<p>In the evening, when the invited guests&mdash;bearded
-and spectacled men, and fine and gracious women&mdash;were
-gathered down in the gardens below, among the
-lighted trees and the fountains and the arbors, the
-tall, simple “Pretty” obeyed her mistress again without
-a question. Lifting her violin to her bosom, she
-came out upon the balcony, and played once more
-the old Italian music. With bared heads and silent
-lips the company of musicians stood to listen.</p>
-
-<p>Soft bravos, fluttering handkerchiefs, showers of
-fresh flowers, greeted simple “Pretty.” They thought
-her some new star, and this her private <i>début</i>.</p>
-
-<p>What was their surprise to hear it was the little
-Miss Redfern’s maid whom they had thus quietly
-been brought to see and pass judgment upon! But,
-gracefully, nay generously, they acknowledged her as
-thoroughly worth the musical education Mr. Redfern
-and his daughter were planning to bestow.</p>
-
-<p>To simple “Pretty” herself, simple with all the
-honesty and unconsciousness of true genius, the great
-plan was not at all too strange, nor too great. If one
-had offered her beauty or pleasure in another shape,
-she might have drawn back from the gift&mdash;but not
-from music. It did not seem to surprise her that she
-was going back to the Old World, and not as a steerage
-passenger, but dressed in costly robes, and under
-the care of friends, to study with the great masters
-of music.</p>
-
-<p>“I will come back, dear Mees Looloo, and sing to
-you and the kind papa lofelier than you can think,
-when I sall haf staid long. Some other day you sall
-haf to be proud of your ‘Pretty.’”</p>
-
-<p>Yes, some day “Pretty” will come back to her
-little mistress, and to us, with the sweet old Italian
-violin.</p>
-
-<div class="figcenter">
-<img src="images/fig76.jpg" alt="" />
-</div>
-
-
-<hr class="full x-ebookmaker-drop" />
-
-<div class="chapter">
-
-<div class="figcenter" id="c19">
-<img src="images/fig77.jpg" alt="" />
-</div>
-
-
-<h2 class="nobreak">DOLLY’S LAST NIGHT.</h2>
-</div>
-
-
-
-<hr class="r5" />
-<p class="c more">BY EMILY HUNTINGTON MILLER.</p>
-<hr class="r6" />
-
-
-
-<p class="drop-cap">THE clock in the warm, bright kitchen was striking
-nine; not nine in the morning, but nine in
-the evening, which is a very different thing, as the old
-clock seemed to know, for it counted off the chime
-with a soft, sleepy roll, as if bent upon making the
-least possible disturbance.</p>
-
-<p>Dolly put the cookies into the deep tin box that
-had held thousands of such dainties in its day, set
-the lid a-tilt upon the edge, gave a glance of satisfaction
-at the great loaves peeping out from the white
-cloth that covered them, the row of pies on the shelf
-below, and the plump chickens trussed up sociably on
-the platter, and then came out from the pantry, and
-shut the door upon the savory smells. Dolly was not
-a beauty, but she had a clear, fresh face, and was full
-of health and vigor and content. She was a model
-housekeeper, too, as the old clock could have testified,
-and this was the first time it had been called upon to
-countenance such irregular doings as the turning of
-night into day. But this was the night before Thanksgiving,
-and when one is cook, chambermaid, housekeeper,
-and mistress of the manse, she certainly has
-a right to regulate her own days in spite of the
-almanac-man.</p>
-
-<p>Yes, and nurse besides; for on the lounge lay
-Dolly’s mother, not exactly sick, but weak from a long
-fever that had left her ankles so swollen and painful
-that she could not walk a step without assistance.
-Bess and Johnny had been away through it all, but
-now their father had gone for them, and early in the
-morning they would reach home,&mdash;the pleasant
-prairie home, with its broad, boundless fields, from
-which they expected some day to reap a fortune.</p>
-
-<p>The lounge was in the kitchen, for the Marshalls
-cared a great deal more for comfort than ceremony,
-and Dolly’s kitchen, with its clean yellow floor, bright
-rugs, white table, and window full of growing plants,
-was a famous place for comfort.</p>
-
-<p>“I hope you are through at last,” said Mrs. Marshall,
-looking up sleepily at Dolly.</p>
-
-<p>“All but the candy, and that’ll not take long,” said
-Dolly cheerily.</p>
-
-<p>“For pity’s sake, do let the candy go; the children
-are just as well off without it.”</p>
-
-<p>“Oh, but I promised Johnny I’d have some for
-him, and it wouldn’t seem like Thanksgiving without
-it. The nuts are all cracked, and I’ll sit here and
-pick out the goodies while the molasses boils,” and
-Dolly whisked out the clean iron skillet, and poured
-the molasses in so quickly her mother could only say:
-“You’ll kill yourself working so hard, and what
-good do you think that will do the children?”</p>
-
-<p>“Choog! choog!” said the molasses in its hurry
-to get out of the jug, and Dolly smiled as she coaxed
-it to make less haste and more speed.</p>
-
-<p>“I’m tough as a pine knot,” she said, merrily;
-“but if I were really going to die I should like to
-have the children say, ‘She always tried to help us
-have good times, and the very last night she was
-here she made us some candy.’”</p>
-
-<p>There was a foolish little moisture in Dolly’s eyes
-as she dropped into the low-cushioned chair, the same
-old creaky chair in which her mother had rocked her
-when she was a baby, and in which she herself had
-rocked Bess and Johnny scores of times. She was
-very tired, now that she came to sit down and think
-about it, and her little speech wakened a sort of
-pathetic pity for herself. She even began to fancy
-what they would all do without her, but just at that
-point the molasses made a sudden rush for the top of
-the skillet, and put an end to her musing.</p>
-
-<p>Mrs. Marshall roused up a little also.</p>
-
-<p>“It seems so strange to have Thanksgiving come
-without a flake of snow! Joel says it is as dry as
-midsummer, too. I never feel easy about the stacks
-until there’s a good fall of snow.”</p>
-
-<p>“Joel is very careful,” suggested Dolly, “and father
-plowed a good strip around the stacks before he
-went away.”</p>
-
-<p>“Yes, I know. But what good would a few furrows
-do against a prairie fire such a time as this?”</p>
-
-<p>“Then we’ll hope the Lord’ll not let a fire start in
-such a time as this,” and Dolly seized her boiling
-syrup at the precise moment of crispiness, poured it
-over the plump white kernels spread thickly in the
-shallow pans, and set the whole to cool in the back
-kitchen.</p>
-
-<p>When everything was tidy, and Dolly was ready to
-help her mother to bed, the old clock ventured to
-remark, in the same soft purr as before, that it only
-lacked two hours to midnight; to which Dolly smilingly
-answered that Thanksgiving only came once a
-year.</p>
-
-<p>“How the colts stamp,” said Dolly. “I wonder if
-Joel could have forgotten to water them before he
-went home.”</p>
-
-<p>“Joel ought not to have gone home,” said her
-mother. “It isn’t right for two lone women to be
-left with no neighbors within a mile. Are you sure
-the fire is all right, Dolly? seems to me there’s a
-smoky smell in here.”</p>
-
-<p>“It’s the molasses, I dropped a little on the stove;
-but I’ll go out and see that all is right after you are in
-bed, and then we shall both feel better.”</p>
-
-<p>Dolly went without her lamp, and as she passed the
-hall window she caught sight of a dull red glow, down
-against the dark horizon. In another instant she
-stood outside, her rosy color all blanched at sight of
-the fire sweeping down the prairie on those swift, terrible
-wings of the west wind. For an instant she was
-dizzy and confused with terror at the thought of her
-utter helplessness, then, as if a voice had repeated it
-to her, she recalled the verse she had read that morning,
-“<i>What time I am afraid, I will trust in Thee</i>,”
-and, with a silent prayer for help, she went back to her
-mother.</p>
-
-<p>“The prairie is on fire,” she said, trying to speak
-quietly.</p>
-
-<p>Her mother sprang from the bed, and sank down,
-almost fainting, from pain.</p>
-
-<p>“O Dolly!” she gasped, “we shall die here all
-alone.”</p>
-
-<p>“I’ll make a good fight, first,” said Dolly, bravely.
-“I must go and do what I can, and you must wait
-here and <i>pray</i>. Only perhaps you had better get
-your clothes on again, in case of the worst.”</p>
-
-<p>Dolly threw some heavy shawls upon the bed,
-placed her mother’s clothes within reach, hugged her
-once, and rushed away. In two minutes more she
-had put on Joel’s boots, tied up her curly head in an
-old comforter, and buttoned herself into her father’s
-coat. She was ready to fight fire, and she knew just
-how to do it. But first the colts must be taken from
-the low thatched stable that would be sure to blaze
-at the first spark. Already they were growing restless
-with the strong smell of smoke, and that strange intuition
-of danger which horses seem to possess. Dolly
-had some difficulty in leading them out, and then she
-hardly knew what to do with them, for she knew well
-enough they would go scouring off when the fire came
-near. She was a quick-witted little woman, however,
-and she soon had the colts in the back kitchen, tied
-fast to the old carpet loom. Then she filled the tubs
-and pails with water, and set them along the line of
-the buildings, cut some heavy branches of hemlock,
-and brought out the horse-blankets and dipped them
-in water.</p>
-
-<p>The house, behind its clump of evergreens, might
-possibly escape, but there seemed little chance for the
-low barn, the granary, and the immense stacks of
-hay, yet in them lay their hopes for a year, and Dolly
-determined not to give them up without a desperate
-struggle. She scarcely dared look at the fire, but she
-saw once how a brighter light leaped up as the flames
-caught a barn or a stack of hay in the distance. As
-rapidly as possible she broadened the circle about the
-line of buildings, lighting the thick grass with one
-hand, and dashing out the flame with the other, when
-it threatened to go beyond her control. She felt almost
-guilty as she saw the blaze she had kindled go
-sweeping away towards the east, carrying the same
-terror to others which was rapidly coming down upon
-her, but it was her only chance of escape, and there
-was not another house between them and the river.
-She worked on in desperation as the air grew thick
-with smoke, and at last she could hear the roar and
-crackle when the flames swept the great corn-field,
-fairly leaping along the rows of dry stalks. It was
-almost upon her, and she ran back within her burned
-circle, and waited for doom.</p>
-
-<p>Her hands were blistered, her eye-lashes were
-burned off, but she did not know it. She only watched,
-with every nerve tense and throbbing, to see if the
-fire would leap the line. It died down a little in
-spots, crept sullenly along the edge, as if loth to go
-by, flamed up here and there at a bunch of tall weeds,
-then, with a sudden puff, the wind lodged a whirling
-handful of cinders at the foot of the great straw
-stack!</p>
-
-<p>Dolly sprang at it like a tiger, tearing away the
-burning straw, and striking right and left with the
-wet blanket. Then a little blaze crept under the
-fence, and she beat the life out of it in a breath.
-Another whirl of cinders upon the roof of the stable,
-but they fell black and harmless. Then another blaze
-running along the edge of the shed, but the water was
-ready for it; and Dolly, with eyes everywhere, ran,
-and beat, and trampled, until at last the fire veered
-away to the south, and left the little homestead safe
-in the midst of a blackened waste.</p>
-
-<p>Dolly walked back and forth, around the stacks and
-the buildings, whipping out the smallest sparks, and
-then turned towards the house in a stupor of exhaustion.
-She wanted to lie right down on the warm
-ground by the side of the straw pile, and go to sleep,
-but she had enough sense left to reach the house, and
-make her way to her mother’s room.</p>
-
-<p>“We’re all right, mother,” she said in a husky
-voice, “the fire has gone by;” and dropping upon
-the bed, smoke, dirt, boots, and all, she sank into a
-heavy sleep. Her mother tried in vain to rouse her,
-so she dragged the shawls over her, and watched
-anxiously for morning. But as the gray light began
-to reveal Dolly’s face, she was terrified at its ghastly
-whiteness, intensified by the soot and smoke which
-begrimed it. She tried again to rouse her, but Dolly
-lay in a stupor, and she could only clasp her hands
-and pray for help. She crept painfully from the bed,
-and was trying to drag herself to the door, when Joel
-rode up on horseback, with his wife behind him.
-She was a stout, red-cheeked young woman, and,
-springing off without waiting for help, ran to the back
-kitchen, where there were sounds of some one stirring.</p>
-
-<p>“Miss Dolly splittin’ kindlin’s, I’ll be bound!
-Joel’s jest that shiftless not to think on’t. My gracious
-Peter!” she exclaimed, as she suddenly opened
-the door, and found herself confronted by one of the
-colts.</p>
-
-<p>She left Joel to settle matters with the colts, and
-made her way to Mrs. Marshall and Dolly, carrying
-the poor lady back to bed in her strong arms, as if she
-had been a baby.</p>
-
-<p>“Don’t you worry about Dolly, ma’am,” she said,
-confidently, “she’ll sleep it off, and come out all right,
-and I’ll just take off my things and do for you. I
-can stop as well as not; our house was burned up,
-and we just managed to save ourselves, so you see I
-ain’t got a smitch o’ work to do for myself.”</p>
-
-<p>“Your house burned! Oh, Sarah, how hard that
-is for you and Joel,” said Mrs. Marshall.</p>
-
-<p>“Yes’m, it’s a kind of a pity, and I’d got the nicest
-kind of a chicken pie ready for Thanksgivin’. We
-never see the fire till it was jest ketchin’ holt of us,
-and then we got on the colt and raced it down the
-gully to Dickerman’s pond ahead of the fire. We
-just made a go of it, and set there till mornin’. Says
-I, ‘Joel, it’s Thanksgivin’ day; be ye right down
-thankful?’ And Joel he looked at me and says, kind
-o’ solemn like, ‘<i>Yes, I be!</i>’ And so be I, ’cause we
-might ’a been burned in our bed, leastways I might,
-if Dolly hadn’t been so considerin’ as to let Joel
-come home.”</p>
-
-<p>Sarah had been all the time tugging at Dolly, pulling
-off boots and coat, and undoing her scorched
-hair. She bathed her face and hands, and lifted her
-upon the pillow, but Mrs. Marshall’s terror only increased
-at seeing Dolly remain perfectly passive, never
-opening her eyes, and allowing Sarah to lift her as if
-she were dead. Hour after hour she slept on, only
-when Sarah raised her on her vigorous arm, and fed
-her with chicken broth, forcing it patiently into the
-closed mouth, until at last a little color crept into the
-pallid face, and the sleep was not so death-like. But
-even at nine o’clock, when the travelers arrived, Dolly
-gave them a doubtful recognition. She smiled faintly
-at the children’s kisses, stared for an instant at her
-father’s anxious face, and then went on dozing and
-muttering. Bess stole in and out on tiptoe, the tears
-dropping down on her pet kitten, and Johnny blundered
-about with his mouth full of delicious candy
-his very heart dissolving with grief and gratitude.</p>
-
-<p>Dolly talked about the candy, and Johnny was impressed
-with the idea that she wanted some, and
-actually made an attempt to administer a small
-chunk, but he was not very successful, and Dolly
-kept on muttering: “The very last night she was
-here she made them some candy; the very last night;
-the very last night; but they couldn’t find it; they
-never could find it; the fire came and burnt them all
-up; the very last night; the&mdash;very&mdash;last&mdash;night.”</p>
-
-<p>If there had been a doctor at hand, Sarah would
-have given up her patient to a course of brain fever,
-with proper deference; but as there was none within
-twenty miles she was compelled to persevere with
-her sensible applications of water, friction, and chicken
-broth, and in a couple of days she had the satisfaction
-of seeing Dolly laugh in quite a natural fashion
-at Joel’s story of the gray colt, which was taken from
-the kitchen with one foot firmly bedded in a pan of
-molasses candy.</p>
-
-<p>“’Twasn’t all stepped on,” said Johnny, “and I
-saved you a chunk. I’m awful glad you made it,
-’cause nobody ’tended to Thanksgiving very much.”</p>
-
-<p>“I’m glad I made it,” said Dolly, “for I should not
-have seen the fire in time if I had gone to bed earlier.
-I remember something foolish about its being my last
-night,” and Dolly smiled doubtfully at her mother,
-not feeling quite sure what she had said, and what she
-had only thought.</p>
-
-<p>“It was not foolish at all, dear,” said her mother,
-kissing the scorched fingers. “Nothing better could
-be said of any life, than that it was a sacrifice for
-others.”</p>
-
-<p>“Shet yer eyes, Dolly, and never mind about yer
-last days,” said Sarah, decidedly; “you won’t see ’em
-this fifty year, if things is managed anyway reasonable.”</p>
-
-<div class="figcenter">
-<img src="images/fig78.jpg" alt="" />
-</div>
-
-
-<hr class="full x-ebookmaker-drop" />
-
-<div class="chapter">
-
-<div class="figcenter" id="c20">
-<img src="images/fig79.jpg" alt="" />
-</div>
-
-
-<h2 class="nobreak">NIB AND MEG.</h2>
-</div>
-
-
-
-<hr class="r5" />
-<p class="c more">BY ELLA FARMAN.</p>
-<hr class="r6" />
-
-<div>
-<img class="drop-capp2" src="images/fig80.jpg"  alt=""  />
-</div>
-
-<p class="drop-capp">AND who do you suppose rang at
-the Doll Doctor’s door one Saturday.</p>
-
-<p>Two noticeable personages, I
-assure you.</p>
-
-<p>Three or four lovely phaetons
-were drawn up before the house;
-the drawing-room was open; and
-pretty faces, set in brown, and
-black, and yellow hair, and
-crowned with flowery hats, were
-looking out until every one of Miss Chatty’s windows
-seemed like a painting thronged with cherubs; small
-ladies, gloved and parasolled, and draped <i>à la mode</i>,
-were coming and going up and down the front steps;
-and Miss Teresa Drew was just stepping from the
-beautiful family carriage, that had its coachman, and
-its footmen, and its crested panels, and her tall French
-maid was behind her with a doll and a doll’s maid in
-her arms&mdash;but all the gay show didn’t begin to attract
-the attention that was universally bestowed, the moment
-they appeared in sight, upon the two queer little
-beings who came across the street, unattended and on
-foot, right up to Miss Chatty’s gate.</p>
-
-<p>But, you see, <i>they</i> were gotten up in their very, very
-best. I am not a fashion writer, my dears, and I
-couldn’t begin to tell you, so that you would have a
-clear idea, how Miss Teresa Drew was dressed; but I
-must try to give you the <i>tout ensemble</i> of these two
-new children. “<i>Tout ensemble</i>,” my Wide Awakes, is
-one of those French phrases that mean so much, and
-are so handy, but which take so many of our English
-words in the translation; a little miss of my acquaintance
-renders it as “the <i>all-over-ness</i> of a person.”
-The costume of these children had a peculiar <i>all-over-ness</i>.
-Their shawls, a pair of ragged and worn broches,
-enveloped them to the throat and dragged after them;
-and the effect over short dresses and bare legs was
-striking; and the shawls, in both cases, were surmounted
-by old straw hats which looked, for all the
-world, like two much-battered toadstools.</p>
-
-<p>Miss Chatty happened to see them coming up to
-the door, all her richly-dressed little people drawing
-aside to let them pass; and she dropped her order-book
-and made her way through her <i>à-la-mode</i> cherubs,
-and answered the door-bell herself.</p>
-
-<p>“Be you the Doll Doctor, mem?” asked the elder
-of the children.</p>
-
-<p>Miss Chatty intimated that she was.</p>
-
-<p>“They told us as wot you lived here, mem, and as
-how you could put the wust cases together.” Opening
-her shawl, she drew forth a bundle, and, dropping
-upon one knee, undid it deftly. She was self-possessed
-in spite of her bare feet; but Miss Chatty was
-much embarrassed. The children, evidently, were
-street Arabs, and she hesitated, from various reasons,
-to ask them in among her little girls; but neither had
-she the heart to dismiss them; besides, she was, withal,
-considerably curious and amused. The hands busy
-with the bundle were very hard, and very tanned;
-the face, all intent upon the knot of the string, was
-strangely quaint and mature,&mdash;indeed, the utter absence
-of childish timidity and embarrassment was perhaps
-the chief reason why Miss Chatty hesitated, with
-such a dear, funny, soft-hearted manner, in her treatment
-of these new patrons.</p>
-
-<p>Finally the knot was untied. A couple of dolls’
-heads were displayed, very much curtailed as to nose,
-badly rubbed as to their black china curls, and sadly
-crackled as to their cheeks, as cheeks will after long
-painting.</p>
-
-<p>“There, mem, Nib and me, us found these in an
-ash bar’l one day,” said the girl. “But jest heads
-hain’t much to hug; and Nib and me’s got nither
-time nor patterns for bodies; and wen us heard as
-wot there was a Doll Doctor, us done ’thout a breckfus
-mornin’s, and saved up fer ter buy ther cloth an’
-ther waddink. Ther cloth is ter cut out ther bodies,
-and ther waddink is ter stuff ’em&mdash;Nib an’ me don’t
-like sawdust&mdash;waddink won’t go ter run out ’f ther’s
-a rip. An’, mem, Nib an’ me, us hopes as they’ll be
-done a-Saturdy. An’ here, mem, is wot us hopes’ll
-make a dress for ’em both. An’ here, mem, is ther
-thread ter sew it. An’ this here, mem, in this little
-paper, is some adgink for ter trim ther things. An’
-us is werry pertic’ler ’bout its bein’ a-Saturdy, mem,
-as Sundy gits ter be a-lonesum with nothink ter do.
-Hain’t Sundy a-lonesum, Nib?”</p>
-
-<p>“You bet!” affirmed Nib.</p>
-
-<p>All the cherubs, haloed with the pretty hair and
-crowned with the flowery hats, and Miss Chatty, too,
-would, doubtless, have been very much shocked had
-Nib’s voice not been like a little flute, and the eyes
-she lifted, like two great big violets, and the teeth she
-showed, beautifully white. But when lips and lids
-closed again, she was as homely as the other; and
-then everybody <i>was</i> shocked at what they had heard,
-the cherubs looking at each other, and the Doll Doctor’s
-face becoming much suffused as she received
-the young rag-pickers’ spoils. But she could not send
-them away. She shuddered at the old calico. Still
-she respectfully took it.</p>
-
-<p>“Us want’s ’em as tall as this, jest about,” continued
-Meg, showing Miss Chatty a strip of paper.
-“Us thinks that’s the purtiest size for a doll.”</p>
-
-<p>Miss Chatty was scarce able to speak even now;
-for the audacity, the simplicity, and the perfect good
-faith of the rag-baby “order” was as paralyzing as it
-was funny. She was a dear, honest Christian, but
-she couldn’t think quite what to do with her new customers
-much more readily than would Sexton Brown
-had Nib and Meg gone into Grace Church on Sunday.
-It was well for Sexton Brown that Nib and Meg
-had never heard that God the Father was preached at
-Grace Church, or they might have gone in.</p>
-
-<p>Meg, at last, seemed struck by the silence of the
-Doll Doctor. “Mem,” said she, hastily, “don’t you
-go fer ter be afeard us won’t pay. Us has got ther
-money saved up&mdash;hain’t us, Nib?”</p>
-
-<p>“I’m not afraid, not at all,” said Miss Chatty.
-“And they will be done on Friday. Come for them
-on that day. I am always extremely busy on Saturday.”</p>
-
-<p>At that Meg looked much pleased. “Mem, ’f you
-do do us a nice job, an’ so prompt-like, ther’s lots of
-girls us knows as’ll get you ter fix ther dolls. Us
-girls thet sells things hain’t got no time fer nothink,
-and us couldn’t go fer ter sew and cut out if us
-had!”</p>
-
-<p>Evidently not. Nib and Meg, under the shawls,
-were picturesque with tatters.</p>
-
-<p>“Us wants our dolls tidy and lovesome, mem,” she
-added, caressingly touching the white cotton in Miss
-Chatty’s hand, and feasting her eyes upon its whiteness
-perceptibly. Miss Chatty saw it; and she saw
-something else at the same moment,&mdash;direful gaps
-and rents about the childish waist betraying that there
-was sad lack of “whiteness” for little Meg’s own
-wear,&mdash;poor Meg! that wanted her dolly “tidy and
-lovesome,” feasting upon the one shred of wholesome
-white cloth,&mdash;Miss Chatty knew the little girl’s soul
-to be clean by that token; and if she had halted in
-her treatment before, she took the little ones right
-into her heart now, which was a much lovelier place
-than her parlor.</p>
-
-<p>“Don’t you think, mem, as ther’s likely to be
-adgink for all ther underclothes, cos us’d get more
-ef ther wasn’t.”</p>
-
-
-
-<div class="figcenter">
-<img src="images/fig81.jpg" alt="" />
-</div>
-
-
-
-<p>Miss Chatty was sure there would be plenty; and
-Nib and Meg went down the steps and away, at their
-leisure. “My! wasn’t them thar swell girls!” said
-little Nib, all aloud. “But I didn’t care; did you,
-Meg? An’ I seed derlicious dolls in ther,&mdash;I’ll bet
-ourn’ll have flouncers, or sumthink.”</p>
-
-<p>Miss Chatty, hearing, resolved there should, at least,
-be “sumthink.”</p>
-
-<p>Her little ladies all were looking at her as she re-entered
-the drawing-room. They were ready to burst
-forth into a breeze of fun and ridicule, or to be very
-sorry,&mdash;just which way their dear Doll Doctor gave
-the cue. She laid the bundle on the shelf, the pink
-calico by itself in a bit of paper, and wrote down the
-order. “Poor little waifs,” she sighed. “Think of
-it, children, how hard they try to be like other folks,
-and how much they seem to wish for something to
-love!”</p>
-
-<p>There was a little hush, until Teresa Drew spoke.
-“I never thought of it, but I wonder what street-children
-do do for dolls!”</p>
-
-<p>“Madame ought not to have to touch objects from
-the barrel of the ashes; it is very mooch disgoosted,”
-said Teresa’s French maid. She stooped and whispered
-to her little mistress. The child directly took
-out her purse, and laid a shining half eagle on the
-table by Miss Chatty’s hand.</p>
-
-<p>“Please buy them both a nice, well-dressed doll,
-with plenty of ’adgink’ on the clothes. Who would
-think they could care for lace! We must tell mamma
-that, Hortense.”</p>
-
-<p>Miss Chatty kissed her kind little customer. All
-her little ladies were pleased if she shook hands when
-they came, and very happy indeed if she twined a curl
-over her finger, or re-tied a sash,&mdash;for she had the
-dearest and daintiest of mother-ways. “My dear,”
-she said, “I think the little girls would feel tenderest
-toward the very dollies they have worked so hard to
-get. But I should like to buy clothing for the children
-themselves with your gold piece.”</p>
-
-<p>The idea roused a creditable little <i>furore</i> of benevolence
-among the children. Every tiny pocket-book
-came open, and although there was no more gold,
-Miss Chatty soon became the treasurer of a respectable
-fund for the benefit of Meg and Nib, whom several
-now remembered to have seen as rag-pickers
-and match-girls.</p>
-
-<p>Indeed, there was so much generous talk about
-Meg and Nib that when Miss Chatty went to bed she
-dreamed a very long and very nice dream.</p>
-
-<p>In this dream all the pavements in the city were
-fringed with toadstools, and the stems were little girls,
-each with a doll in her arms, and they were all on
-their way to her house to be mended. When all had
-arrived, a tall, white angel came, and stood in the
-door and looked in. And she said, “Behold, I am
-she that weepeth over the woes of children. I sit
-upon a cloud over this city. To-night, on the evening
-air, I listened for the noise of crying and quarreling,
-and, instead, I heard laughter, and playing, and lullabies.
-The thanks of one that weeps are sweeter than
-all others. Take my blessing, O giver of dolls, because
-you have learned that a little girl, to be good,
-must have something to love.”</p>
-
-<p>Then the children sang “bye-low-baby-bye” in soft
-tones; and after they were through singing, they sat
-and nodded deliciously,&mdash;children, dolls, and she,
-too; and all this while the Angel of the Children’s
-Woes sat in their midst on a canopied coach that had
-a coachman, and a footman, and a French maid, and
-rested from her tearful labors&mdash;indeed her eyes grew
-every moment of a most bright and smiling azure;
-and while she was resting, on a loom of silver she
-wove edging until there was a great plenty to have
-trimmed all the dolls in the world.</p>
-
-<p>It was quite a pleasant dream, in fact; and Miss
-Chatty woke with her heart all soft, and young, and
-warm, and it staid so all day Sunday.</p>
-
-<p>After breakfast, Monday morning, she put on her
-holland gloves and went out to dig around her roses.
-She desired the circle of dark loam about her trees
-to be exactly and truly round. So she found it necessary
-to do her own digging.</p>
-
-<p>As she set her foot on the spade, a little voice she
-knew called from the bottom of the garden. “Please,
-Miss Chatty, were there a great many nice dolls
-brought Saturday?”</p>
-
-<p>And another little voice continued, “May we go
-and see them?”</p>
-
-<p>It was Sylvey Morgan and Teddy. They were
-looking over the broken paling of the garden fence,
-their little faces twinkling with smiles and sunshine.</p>
-
-<p>“Yes, birdies. You may go up through the basement,
-and I will step over and see Mintie.”</p>
-
-<p>The children flew to the gate and up to the house,
-for you must know that it was very nice, indeed, to go
-up to Miss Chatty’s parlors and look at the beautiful
-dolls all by themselves. They well knew they
-“mustn’t touch;” and Miss Chatty was well assured
-they wouldn’t.</p>
-
-<p>She picked some clove pinks and went over to the
-house of the children. It was a small cottage in vines
-fronting a back street. She went around to the sitting-room,
-where, by the window, sat a young girl
-with a poor little pinched-up face. A cane, gayly
-painted, and adorned with a flowing ribbon bow,
-leaned against the window, and told the girl’s story.</p>
-
-<p>The room was very plain only about this corner.
-This nook had a bird cage and a hanging basket of
-ivy in the window; Mintie’s chair, with its gay cushion,
-stood on a Persian mat; there was a little window
-garden growing on the ledge; and on the elbow stand
-was a globe with gold fish, while opposite hung some
-pretty water colors. Mintie’s hair was tied back with
-a rose-pink bow, and her wrapper was a marvelous
-web of roses and posies. Altogether the endeavor to
-surround poor Mintie Morgan with brightness and
-beauty was very evident.</p>
-
-<p>But Mintie herself looked peevish, and as if never
-anything in the world had been done for her. It was
-plain she was no nice, ideal invalid, but a girl whom
-to take care of would be a great trial.</p>
-
-<p>She did smile, however, as she took Miss Chatty’s
-clove pinks. “You always bring enough, and plenty
-of grass and leaves, so that there is a chance to try a
-bouquet. I believe you do it that I may fuss with
-them half the forenoon if I like.”</p>
-
-<p>Miss Chatty colored a trifle at being detected.
-“Well, that is nothing against me, I hope, Mintie.
-How do you feel to-day?”</p>
-
-<p>“O, good-for-nothing, and all tired out just to think
-it is Monday morning instead of Saturday night.”</p>
-
-<p>“I do wish you had something pleasant to occupy
-yourself with,” said Miss Chatty, sympathetically, instead
-of whipping out the little sermon on contentment.
-She had always thought she wouldn’t thank
-anybody to preach contentment to her, had she been
-broken-backed and with no feet to speak of, like
-Mintie.</p>
-
-<p>“Isn’t there anything you can do?”</p>
-
-<p>“Of course there isn’t,” said Mintie. “I want
-something pretty if I have anything, work which will
-make me forget I am in this chair. I won’t sew the
-children’s clothes. Father and mother should contrive
-that I was amused. And if you felt so very bad
-for me, Miss Chatty, I guess you would have offered
-to let me dress some of them dolls before now!”</p>
-
-<p>“So I might, I should think myself,” said Miss
-Chatty, startled into saying a very unwise thing; for,
-of course, a ten-dollar doll wasn’t to be put in careless
-fingers.</p>
-
-<p>“But, of course,” continued Mintie, fretfully, “you
-don’t have more than you can do yourself.”</p>
-
-<p>“No,” said Miss Chatty, much relieved, “I don’t.
-But, poor little Mintie, you ought to have something
-nice to do!”</p>
-
-<p>“Well, you need all the money, and I shouldn’t
-like to work, even at anything pretty, unless I was
-paid. I don’t wish to talk about work at all unless
-that is understood. You needn’t ever bring anything
-here to do just to amuse me.” And Mintie looked,&mdash;only
-think of a young girl looking as ugly as pictures
-of misers that you have seen!</p>
-
-<p>As for Miss Chatty, she blushed clear up to her
-eyes. “My dear child!” she exclaimed. “How
-could you think I should be unjust!”</p>
-
-<p>And then she went and stood in the door. The
-dear little old maid was dreadfully ashamed, and a
-trifle indignant, too, over Mintie’s bad manners and
-selfishness. But after a moment she reflected that
-probably the poor girl had no pocket-money at all,
-and couldn’t get any either; and she recollected also
-that it had been said that physical deformity often
-produced spiritual crookedness and halting. She
-tried to think of some way to help her. She thought
-of offering Nib’s and Meg’s dolls to make and clothe;
-but no, Mintie wished to handle only beautiful things.</p>
-
-<p>All at once her dream came up before her, as
-pleasant as in her sleep, and it seemed to turn inside
-out and reveal its meaning.</p>
-
-<p>She went back and kissed Mintie. Then she went
-home and kissed Sylvey and Teddy and sent them
-away. After that she made herself ready, and went
-upon another eccentric little journey among her
-wealthy friends.</p>
-
-<p>It is said that Miss Chatty talked a deal of beautiful
-and flowery nonsense at every house where she
-called, all about the influence upon poor children of
-a flower to watch, or a bird to tend, or a lovely doll
-to love. She told everybody that she was going to
-send a missionary in the shape of a pretty doll to
-every ragged and dirty child in the city.</p>
-
-<p>They laughed at the idea of the doll-mission; but
-as she begged at most places for nothing more than
-“pieces,”&mdash;bits of silk and bright woolens, remnants
-of ribbons and laces, the natural leavings of dressmaking,
-of which there is always plenty at every
-house,&mdash;Miss Chatty did not render herself very
-obnoxious.</p>
-
-<p>But at three or four houses there was far more
-weighty talk; and from them Miss Chatty took away
-considerable money. Then she went down upon Vesey
-Street, and one of her friends among the merchants
-gave her a roll of bleached muslin, and the same good
-man also gave her a card of edging in the name of
-his little daughter. She then went down farther still,
-to Bleecker Street, where a jolly young importer of
-cheap toys sold her a gross of china dolls at cost.</p>
-
-<p>Tuesday, all day, she cut patterns of skirts, and
-polonaises, and basques, and fichus, and walking jackets,
-all as fanciful as possible, bearing in mind the
-temper of her seamstress.</p>
-
-<p>On Wednesday she went over to Mintie, carrying
-the bundles and her own walnut cutting board.</p>
-
-<p>And when Mintie had looked at the great army of
-curly-pated dolls, with their naked little kid bodies,
-every one of them wearing the same rosy smile, and
-had laid all the lustrous silky velvets to her cheek,
-and had sheened the silks over her knee, and had delighted
-with the laces and the iris ribbons, she did
-smile, the first sunny smile of her blighted life, I do
-believe; and she said she should be very, very happy,
-and that she should dress no two dolls alike; and she
-never mentioned her wages at all.</p>
-
-<p>But after Miss Chatty had unfolded her plan, and
-told her how well she was to be paid, Mintie became
-cross again. She said after the dolls were done it
-was a shame for ragged children to have them, and
-they would have to be taken from her house to be
-distributed, for she couldn’t, and wouldn’t, bear the
-sight of such creatures!</p>
-
-<p>But in what manner the Doll Mission was organized,
-and how the lovely missionaries did their work,
-and whether the Angel really stopped weeping, will
-make another long story; and it will be still more
-beautiful than this and the other.</p>
-
-<div class="figcenter">
-<img src="images/fig82.jpg" alt="" />
-</div>
-
-
-<hr class="full x-ebookmaker-drop" />
-
-<div class="chapter">
-
-
-<h2 class="nobreak" id="c21">THE LITTLE PARSNIP-MAN.</h2>
-</div>
-
-<hr class="r5" />
-<p class="c more">BY E. F.</p>
-<hr class="r6" />
-
-
-<div class="figleft">
-<img src="images/fig83.jpg" alt="" />
-</div>
-
-<p class="drop-cap">ONE year Mrs. Dumpling was
-ill all the summer, and there
-was nobody much to tend the
-kitchen garden, except Dimple.</p>
-
-<p>Dimple was extremely sturdy,
-but being shorter than the spade,
-he could not use the spade at all;
-and he was so very much shorter
-than a hoe, that the hoe kicked,
-and generally hit Dimple on the
-nose; and before summer was out
-he was so much shorter than the
-weeds, that when he went to pull
-them, the weeds felt quite at liberty
-to turn about and pull him;
-they’d hang back and pull, and
-pull, until they got Dimple all excited
-and puffing, and then they’d
-suddenly let go his little hands, and down would go
-Dimple on the ground, over on his back, pulled right
-off his little roots,&mdash;his little feet, I mean,&mdash;while
-the weeds would just swing, and nod, and shake with
-laughter, and then they would grow&mdash;oh, <i>how</i> they
-would grow! A little rough pulling at one, if you
-don’t get pulled clear off your feet and out of your
-place, is so very good for anybody.</p>
-
-<p>Dimple finally gave up the weeds, and tended the
-vegetables only. He cultivated them with a stick,
-scratching along the roots, and making the soil black
-and loose. One day he sat under a shady row of
-tall mustard-weeds, and scratched along a line of some
-feathery green stuff his mamma had sowed. He sat
-poking the dirt, and thinking what a pretty green
-plants turned as the dirt was stirred, when suddenly,
-poking away a big stone, he saw something white, and
-round, and wrinkled, just like a head,&mdash;an old man’s
-bald head!</p>
-
-<p>“Why,” said Dimple, “who’s here?”</p>
-
-<p>He dug a little, and he came to some sleepy old
-eyes, all shut, and wrinkled, and peevish.</p>
-
-<p>“Why-ee!” said Dimple. “It <i>is</i> somebody!”</p>
-
-<p>He dug and dug, and he came to a nose,&mdash;an
-awful big nose.</p>
-
-<p>“Why-ee!” said Dimple. “It’s a Roman nose. I
-fink it is a grandpa.”</p>
-
-<p>He dug a little mite more, and there were some
-moustaches growing right out of the big nose. He
-pulled and pulled with his two forefingers, and loosened
-them up, and all at once they flopped out of the
-dirt; and they were two long waxed moustaches.</p>
-
-<p>Dimple was so surprised he said nothing this time,
-but dug away, almost scared. Pretty soon he found a
-mouth, a large funny mouth, close up under the nose,
-and the mouth was dreadful live and quirky.</p>
-
-<p>“Why-ee-ee!” said Dimple. “I fink it <i>is</i> somebody,
-and he’s waking up!”</p>
-
-<p>For now the eyes did seem to twinkle, and the little
-bare skull to wink and move its wrinkles up and
-down.</p>
-
-<p>Dimple dug away again, and found a chin and some
-straggling beard.</p>
-
-<p>“I fink what it is now,” said Dimple. “Mamma
-readed about him yes’day. He lives down in the
-mines. He’s a Kobold, and he wants to get out.”</p>
-
-<p>It was so bad to be stuck fast in the dirt, Dimple
-dug now just as hard as he could. The little old man
-himself didn’t help at all to loosen up his two long,
-slim legs. Finally Dimple, with a mighty effort, and
-by shutting both eyes hard, pulled them out, and he
-tumbled over on his back, and the little old man tumbled
-over on <i>his</i> back, and lay like one dead.</p>
-
-<p>Then Dimple saw he had no arms. “Dee-me!”
-said he. “I be’eve he started to bring up some gold,
-and the other Kobolds ran after him and cut off his
-arms. Dee-me! I fink what if he has got up so far
-and beed-ed to deff!”</p>
-
-<p>Dimple scampered in, and his face was so white,
-and his story so wild, that Mrs. Dumpling managed
-to walk up into the garden.</p>
-
-<p>Dimple took her to the place; the little old man
-was there, sure enough. Mrs. Dumpling saw him
-herself, in a glimmering dazed kind of way, for just
-one moment,&mdash;his twinkling eyes, his bald skull, his
-Roman nose, his long moustaches, and his straggling
-beard.</p>
-
-<p>Then she sat down on the grass and laughed.</p>
-
-<p>She picked him up; and the moment she touched
-him there was an awful transformation. Even Dimple
-saw it was only a parsnip,&mdash;a pronged, ill-shaped,
-tough old parsnip.</p>
-
-<p>But that night something happened which Dimple
-never forgot. The old Parsnip-Man came to his bed
-and spoke to him. But I regret to say that he used
-many large words which Dimple could not understand.</p>
-
-<p>“Kind sir,” said he, “naturally we are a fine and
-shapely race,&mdash;we, and our cousins the Beets and the
-Carrots and the Salsify. If we are brought up, as
-every new generation ought to be, with tender surroundings,
-and kept out of the company of stones
-and clods and weeds, we have a dear promise that
-many of us shall be placed on the dinner-table when
-children eat, and be changed into rosy cheeks, and
-white arms, and handsome young bodies, and live a
-long, merry life above ground in the sunshine. But
-if we are neglected by those upon whom we are dependent,
-we are changed underground, and become
-horrid old fellows, with ugly faces; and when we are
-pulled up, we are carted away and fed to cattle.</p>
-
-<p>“<i>Do you know what it must be to be fed to cattle?</i>”
-he roared.</p>
-
-<p>And then, after a moment, he smiled mournfully.
-“A word to the wise,” he said. The low, pleading
-tone floated all about Dimple like a cool, green leaf.
-When he looked up to ask what the “Word” was, the
-Parsnip-Man had disappeared.</p>
-
-<p>Dimple told his mamma in the morning. Mamma
-knew the “Word” very well. She said it was too
-bad, and she would have the parsnip-bed hoed that
-very day.</p>
-<hr class="full x-ebookmaker-drop" />
-
-<div class="chapter">
-
-
-<h2 class="nobreak" id="c22">HOW DORR FOUGHT.</h2>
-</div>
-
-<hr class="r5" />
-<p class="c more">BY SALOME.</p>
-<hr class="r6" />
-
-
-
-
-<p class="drop-cap">LITTLE Dorr Eastman always wore his sword&mdash;in
-the daytime, I mean. He would have liked
-to wear it at night&mdash;indeed, he tried it once; but as
-the belt was indispensable, and that was exceedingly
-rasping and uncomfortable with a night-gown, and as
-he often rolled upon the sword itself, and the sword,
-being hard, hurt his soft, plump side, and his soft,
-plump limbs, he gave it up, regretfully, since it was
-Dorr’s belief that “real truly” soldiers always slept
-with their “arms” on. And Dorr “knew”&mdash;for was
-not his brother Dick a colonel, and his father a general,
-and his grandfather a general?</p>
-
-<p>But, then, they had been at West Point, and got
-toughened. After he grew up and had been at West
-Point, and had undergone discipline, doubtless a belt
-would not be uncomfortable in bed, and a sword
-could be worn with a night-gown!</p>
-
-<p>The fancy-store in the village where Dorr’s papa
-owned a summer mansion, drove a flourishing trade
-during the season in gilt papers, and mill-boards, and
-tinsels; for, once a week, at least, the young soldier
-fashioned new stripes and epaulets; one day being
-a sergeant, on the next a major; and then, for days
-together, commander-in-chief U. S. A., during which
-space mamma, and Trudie, and Soph addressed him as
-His Excellency. Every stick which he could hew into
-the shape of a horse’s head, became a gallant charger,
-until mamma’s hall was one long, vast stable; mamma
-blew a whistle for <i>reveillé</i>; and the embryo cadet
-thought nothing of turning out at five in the morning,
-and splashing into a cold tub, especially on picnic
-mornings. But Dorr said he was hardening for West
-Point and glorious campaigns.</p>
-
-<div class="figleft">
-<img src="images/fig84.jpg" alt="" />
-<p class="caption">“<span class="smcap">Hold your Hand, now.</span>”</p>
-</div>
-
-<p>His greatest anxiety was concerning these campaigns.
-“Mamma,” he said to her one day, “I fears
-there’s no use in me growing up!”</p>
-
-<p>“Why, Your Excellency? It grieves me to hear
-that,” said mamma.</p>
-
-<p>“’Cause everybody will be fighted out before that,
-mamma. Colonel Dick says they settle things now,
-and not fight.”</p>
-
-<p>“Well, my little son, there will always be men who
-must wear swords, to make people afraid, so that they
-will think it is the safer way to settle without a war.
-My little Dorr shall be one of those men, and a great
-share of the time he will be home on furlough and
-stay with mamma. Won’t he like that?”</p>
-
-<p>“No, he wouldn’t!” cried Dorr, stoutly, swelling
-up after the manner of colonels and generals. After
-a turn or two across the room, he came back to his
-mamma’s knee. “It’s likely, though, there’ll be Injuns.
-There always was Injuns in this land, Trudie
-says, and if they’s lasted s’long, it’s likely they’ll last
-s’long as I live; and Dick says there’ll be always
-war s’long as there’s Injuns!”</p>
-
-<p>“O! my little blue-eyed Dorr,” said mamma,
-“wouldn’t you care to be scalped?”</p>
-
-<p>“Why’d I care?” answered Dorr. “Wouldn’t
-my ‘feet be to the foe’?”</p>
-
-<p>Mamma could not but laugh at her stern little
-man; and then she thought he had better go
-with the girls in the garden.</p>
-
-<p>And there he was not a moment too soon.
-The sacred inclosure was already invaded by
-a ruthless hand&mdash;a fat, yellowish-black little
-hand, which was thrust through the paling, evidently
-after one of Soph’s treasures&mdash;the beautiful
-rose-pink dwarf dahlia.</p>
-
-<p>Dorr saw it. “Soph! Soph! he’s breaking
-off your new Mex’can Lilliput dahlia!” and
-headlong went Sergeant Dorr toward the fence;
-but, half way there, he tripped in the tall asters,
-and crushed dozens of mamma’s choice autumn
-blooms as he fell.</p>
-
-<p>Soph and Trudie both came running down
-the gravel. The boy behind the paling also
-ran, or would, had not the fat arm been thrust
-in too far; for, turning it in haste, it stuck fast,
-and now held him Sergeant Dorr’s prisoner.</p>
-
-<p>His fall had made Sergeant Dorr very mad;
-and, picking himself up, he drove toward the
-paling in hot haste. “You flower-thief! them’s
-Soph’s flowers! You clear out of this, or I’ll shoot
-you with my sword!”</p>
-
-<p>And the sword was brandished; and as Roly-poly
-couldn’t “clear out,” much as he wished, he staid,
-his hand still clasping the stalk of the “Mex’can Lilliput,”
-which he seemed unable to let go. Seeing
-that, down came Dorr’s wooden sword upon the arm!
-It was a sturdy stroke, too, so sturdy that the sword
-bounded and flew over on the other side, where an
-angry little bare black foot kicked it far out into the
-road, while the owner of the foot howled with pain.</p>
-
-<p>“Dorr Eastman!” cried Trudie.</p>
-
-<p>“You cruel, cruel boy!” cried Soph.</p>
-
-<p>“He no bus’ness with your flowers, then!” said
-Dorr, crowding back an angry whimper.</p>
-
-<p>“I’ve a mind to shake you!” said Trudie. But,
-instead, she went to the fence where the little bow-legged
-mulatto, still howling, was trying to get free.</p>
-
-<p>“Little boy,” said she, “I’m sorry; but it is wrong
-to steal!”</p>
-
-<p>“But we done got no flowers of our own,” said he;
-“and besides, I hain’t broke it. O, dear, where’s
-mammy? I hain’t gooine to stay hyer&mdash;don’t!
-don’t!” He howled louder than ever as Trudie
-took his arm.</p>
-
-<p>“Hush up, simpleton! I’m only going to get you
-out.” With a firm grasp she turned his arm
-where he might draw it back. “There, I’ll let
-you out now, if you will stand still a moment
-after I let go.”</p>
-
-<p>The boy sobbed mightily, but stood still.
-“Stand there till I tell you to go,” commanded
-Trudie. Then she broke one of her own flowers
-for him, and also went into her pocket.
-“Hold your hand, now,” said she.</p>
-
-<p>Sobbing, and with hidden face, the small ragamuffin
-held up his hand, and Trudie poured
-into it a stream of pennies and candies. “The
-flower,” said she, “is because you like pretty
-things. The rest is to pay you for being
-struck.”</p>
-
-<p>The tawny little hand dashed the “pay” to
-the ground. “I can’t be paid for being struck!”
-he cried, baring his tearful eyes, and gleaming
-with them at the “sergeant.”</p>
-
-<p>“What’s all this?” asked mamma, coming
-down the walk.</p>
-
-<div class="figright">
-<img src="images/fig85.jpg" alt="" />
-<p class="caption"><span class="smcap">He tumbled into her Arms Head first.</span></p>
-</div>
-
-<p>Hearing the story, she went outside, and
-bared the beaten arm. There was a frightful
-lump on the soft, black baby flesh. She looked
-up at her little soldier ruefully, and he ran off.</p>
-
-<p>She took the child in, and bathed the bruise
-with camphor, picked him a gorgeous bouquet,
-and sent him home with various admonitions
-and tendernesses. Then she waited for Dorr
-to come.</p>
-
-<p>By and by he came. He was still without his sword.
-He rushed to her, as she turned at the sound of the
-little footstep, and tumbled into her arms head first.</p>
-
-<p>“Mamma,” he said, “I have martial-courted myself!
-I runned after him, but he wouldn’t strike me.
-Then I thought what you said ’bout ‘kisses for blows,’
-but he wouldn’t kiss me; but I know’d there should
-be a kiss somewheres, ’cause ’twas your kind of a
-battle, not papa’s; so I gave him my sword, and asked
-him to come to play&mdash;and&mdash;well, mamma, I haven’t
-got any sword no more!”</p>
-
-<p>The little heart heaved; but mamma hugged him
-close, and shed a glad tear to think her teaching had
-had its effect as well as papa’s.</p>
-
-<p>“My kind of battles are very hard, much harder
-to be fought than papa’s,” she said, “and Dorr is
-braver than if he had killed a hundred men.”</p>
-
-<div class="figcenter">
-<img src="images/fig86.jpg" alt="" />
-<p class="caption">ALL THE WAY TO CANADA.</p>
-</div>
-
-<hr class="full x-ebookmaker-drop" />
-
-<div class="chapter">
-
-<div class="figcenter" id="c23">
-<img src="images/fig87.jpg" alt="" />
-</div>
-
-
-<h2 class="nobreak">TIM’S PARTNER.</h2>
-</div>
-
-
-
-<hr class="r5" />
-<p class="c more">BY AMANDA M. DOUGLAS.</p>
-<hr class="r6" />
-
-<div>
-<img class="drop-capp2" src="images/fig88.jpg"  alt=""  />
-</div>
-
-
-<p class="drop-capp">“AIN’T got nothin’, Miss May, to set
-up a chap in housekeepin’&mdash;have
-you?”</p>
-
-<p>“Housekeeping!” the young lady
-cried in surprise. “Why, surely,
-Tim, you are not thinking of&mdash;” and she
-paused, suddenly eying the figure before her
-from head to foot.</p>
-
-<p>A strange, misshapen creature it was. He
-was barely eighteen, but he might have been twice
-that from the looks of his face, which was thin and
-sharp, and wrinkled about the eyes and forehead, surmounted
-by a shock of sandy brown hair, and thatched
-with an old gray felt hat going to tatters. A short,
-humpbacked figure, with a body out of all proportion
-to the pinched, slender legs. The arms were long,
-and finished by hands twice too large. A poor, pitiful
-object; yet there was something wistful and touching
-in the great brown eyes.</p>
-
-<p>“Of gettin’ married? Was you goin’ to say that,
-Miss May? He! he! A gal would want a husband
-mighty bad, wouldn’t she, when she picked up such a
-crooked stick? The good Lord knows why he made
-me this way, I s’pose,” falling for a moment into a
-reflective mood. “But ’tain’t that, Miss May. I’ve
-got a room of old Mother Budd, and a stove, and a
-mattress, and now I’ve taken a pardner&mdash;Jerry; but
-you don’t know nothin’ ’bout him. He’s a little chap
-what’s had a drunken father all his life, and has to
-get about on two crutches&mdash;worse’n me, a good
-sight,” looking down with pride on his thin legs and
-substantial feet. “And now his father’s sent up to
-the Island, ’nd he had no place to go to. So we’ve
-set up together. He’s smart in some ways, is Jerry&mdash;kin
-sew like a gal, and cook, and we’ll get along just
-jolly. Only if we had some dishes and things. You
-see we have to pay a dollar a week in advance, for
-old Mother Budd’s sharp at a bargain, lookin’ out for
-tricks. Then I bought some coal an’ wood, an’ that
-took about all my spare capital.” He gave a sort of
-humorous grin, as he said “capital.”</p>
-
-<p>He had shoveled off the snow and cleaned out the
-gutter to perfection. Miss May had paid him thirty
-cents. After a moment she said,&mdash;</p>
-
-<p>“Come down in the basement, Tim. I should not
-wonder if we could find you an outfit. Two boys
-housekeeping! It’s rather funny!”</p>
-
-<p>Tim scraped and wiped his feet, stood his shovel
-in the corner of the area, and followed the young lady
-within. All winter he had been on hand to clean the
-sidewalk and put in coal. Besides his wages she had
-given him a few old garments, and his gratitude had
-touched her. Now she felt rather amused.</p>
-
-<p>Bridget gave him a somewhat unfriendly stare as
-he entered the kitchen. She never could understand
-why a lady like Miss May should take fancies “to
-beggars and that sort of trash.” Dr. May looked
-rather serious about it, and wished her mother had
-lived, or that aunt Helen knew how to interest her in
-other people. He saw quite enough of the misery
-and wretchedness of the world without having his
-pretty young daughter breaking her heart over it.</p>
-
-<p>“Come and warm yourself, Tim. Bridget, where
-are those cracked and checked dishes and old tins I
-picked out the other day? And there are some chairs
-down cellar. O, and those old comfortables I laid
-away.”</p>
-
-<p>“Sure, miss, I was goin’ to ask you if I mightn’t
-give the dishes to my cousin, Ann Flynn, who is to be
-married on Sunday night. They’d be a godsend to
-her.”</p>
-
-<p>“We’ll divide them;” and Miss May smiled.</p>
-
-<p>Bridget very unwillingly opened the closet door.
-The idea of giving china dishes to a beggar! She
-grudged everything that could go to a “cousin.”</p>
-
-<p>Miss May picked out two cups and saucers, four
-plates, two bowls, and several miscellaneous articles,
-including a block-tin tea-pot and two or three dilapidated
-tin pails.</p>
-
-<p>“O, Miss May! Why, we’ll feel as grand as kings!”
-and the eyes were lustrous with gratitude.</p>
-
-<p>“Here’s a basket to pack them in. Bridget, give
-him a little tea and sugar, and some of the cold meat
-left yesterday. I’ll run up stairs and find some bed-clothes.”</p>
-
-<p>She came back laden. Tim’s face glowed to its
-utmost capacity, which was large, seeing that he had
-been out in the cold all the morning.</p>
-
-<p>“There, I haven’t any table, but all these will help.
-You are sure your partner, as you call him, is a trusty
-fellow?”</p>
-
-<p>“He’s good as gold, though he hain’t no legs worth
-speakin’ of. He used to sell papers on the cars, but
-he stumbled one day, ’nd had one cut off, and t’other
-hurt. His father used to keep him round beggin’,
-but he’s bound to have nice times now along o’ me.
-If you could hear him sing, Miss May&mdash;it’s like a
-bird hangin’ out a winder. When the weather comes
-warm he kin sell apples and flowers, and sich. I’ll
-have a little spare capital bimeby to start him with.
-An’ it’ll be next to havin’ folks of one’s very own. I
-never had any, you see. Not that I’d want a father
-like Jerry’s. Poor little chap, he’s had rough times,
-what with the beatin’ and the starvin’.”</p>
-
-<p>Miss May winked a tear out of her blue eyes. How
-ready these street Arabs were to stand by one another!
-Would anybody in her “set” take in a poor
-brother unhesitatingly?</p>
-
-<p>Tim was grateful from the very depths of his soul,
-and it was no mean one. He bundled the articles in
-a great pack, and shouldered them, chairs and all,
-and drew his rough sleeve across his eyes, while his
-good-bye had a very husky sound.</p>
-
-<p>If Miss May could have heard the rejoicing!</p>
-
-<p>And yet it was a miserable little room, up three
-flights of stairs, with only one window looking into a
-rear house. Their bedstead had been made of dry
-goods boxes, and when they covered it with her clean
-chintz comfortable, and arrayed their closet shelves
-with the dishes, leaving the door open so they could
-feast their eyes on their new possessions, they could
-not resist giving three cheers; and Tim was actually
-coaxed into dancing a breakdown, while Jerry clapped
-“Finnegan’s Wake” with his thin hands on the one
-good knee he had left. It was a blustering March
-day, but they two had a delightfully warm room and
-a feast. What amused them most of all was beautiful
-Miss May’s idea that Tim was going to be married.</p>
-
-<p>“Tim,” said Jerry solemnly, when their laugh had
-ended, “I don’t know how girls feel about such poor
-cripples as you and me, but my opinion is that my
-mammy would have been glad enough to had a husband
-with the great, tender heart you’ve got. Poor
-mammy! I’m glad she’s in heaven along of the angels,
-and I’m glad she don’t know about my legs.
-God wouldn’t tell her when she was so happy&mdash;would
-He, Tim?”</p>
-
-<p>“No, He wouldn’t,” said Tim over a great lump in
-his throat.</p>
-
-<p>There never were such happy days in the life of
-either as those that followed. Jerry cooked, kept
-accounts, washed, ironed, and mended, and as the
-days grew warmer began to do quite a thriving business
-in button-hole bouquets, standing on the corner
-as the men went up town. Now and then he sold
-popular photographs on commission, or a lot of choice
-bananas.</p>
-
-<p>Tim was brisk and active, and caught up all manner
-of odd jobs. Now and then he saw Miss May.
-Once he sent Jerry with a bouquet of flowers.</p>
-
-<p>“I wanted you to see him, Miss May,” he said
-afterward, hanging around until he caught sight of
-her. “He don’t look pale and peaked, as he did
-when we first set up. It’s good livin’, you see, and
-no beatin’s. And we have just the jolliest times you
-ever heard of. He don’t want me to call him anything
-but pardner. I do believe that ere little chap
-would give his life for me.”</p>
-
-<p>“O, Tim, how good you are!” she cried. “You
-shame richer and wiser people. It is very noble to
-take that poor little boy by the hand and love and
-protect him.”</p>
-
-<p>“Noble!” echoed Tim, pulling his forelock and
-coloring through the tan and grime. “Why, Miss
-May, he’s a sight of help and comfort to me; better’n
-any wife would be, ’cause, you see, no woman who’d
-take me ever’d be half so good.”</p>
-
-<p>“Tim,” she said, opening her dainty Russia leather
-pocket-book, “I want to add a little mite to your happiness.
-I am going to the country soon, for the
-whole summer. I want you to take this, and spend
-it just as I tell you. You and Jerry must go on
-some nice excursion; there will be plenty of them
-presently. Get a good dinner, and take all the delight
-you can, and remember to tell me all about it
-afterward.”</p>
-
-<p>“O, Miss May, you are too good for anybody’s
-folks! Indeed, I’ll tell you every word. And can
-I come again next winter to shovel snow and do
-chores?”</p>
-
-<p>“Yes, indeed. I shall be glad to have you. God
-bless you and your partner, poor, brave little soul.
-I shall think of you often.”</p>
-
-<p>“I never see an angel ’xcept the ones in the picters
-with wings, but I know Miss May is one,” said Tim
-to himself.</p>
-
-<p>Tim and his partner counted their money that
-night. Business had been flourishing of late.</p>
-
-<p>“There’s twenty-one dollars that we’ve saved up
-free and clear, and the lady’s five. Tim, you had
-better put it in the bank;” and Jerry’s eyes sparkled
-feverishly.</p>
-
-<p>“I’d have to hide the bank book then;” and Tim
-chuckled. “Think of havin’ a bank account! Why,
-we’d feel a’most like Astor, or the old Commodore.”</p>
-
-<p>“But I wish you would, Tim. I’m afraid to have
-so much in the house. It will be something against
-winter when business is dull. Now we’re making
-plenty to live on. Won’t you, Tim?”</p>
-
-<p>“To be sure I will&mdash;to-morrow. And we’ll hide
-the book in that same chink in the floor. No one
-would think of looking there. And we’ll have a rousin’
-time on some ’xcursion. We’ll choose one with a
-brass band, and have a little dance in one corner by
-ourselves. There isn’t the beat of Miss May in this
-whole world.”</p>
-
-<p>“She’s good, but then she’s rich, you know. Five
-dollars doesn’t look so large to her as it does to you
-and me. But, Tim, I love you better than a hundred
-Miss Mays.”</p>
-
-<p>Tim chuckled and winked hard, but said never a
-word.</p>
-
-<p>He was off early in the morning, as he had an important
-job on hand. Jerry would have dinner all
-ready at noon, and he would put on his “store
-clothes” and go down to the bank like any other
-swell. My eyes! Weren’t they in clover?</p>
-
-<p>Tim could not get home until three; but he had
-earned two dollars since morning. They each had a
-key to the door, and finding it locked, Tim drew out
-his. Jerry had gone to business; afternoons were his
-time. There was no dinner set out on the table and
-covered with a napkin. A curious chill of something
-like neglect went to Tim’s warm heart; but he whistled
-it away, found a bite of cold meat and some oatmeal.
-Then he decided he would run over on Broadway and
-tell Jerry of his good luck. It was too late to think
-of going to the bank.</p>
-
-<p>No little chap sat on the well-known corner. Tim
-walked up a block, down again, and studied the cross
-street sharply. Had he sold out and gone home?
-Or may be he had taken the money to the bank!
-Tim ran home again. Yes, that was it. The money
-was gone.</p>
-
-<p>He waited and waited. Somehow he did not feel
-a bit jolly; but he boiled the kettle and laid the supper.
-No Jerry yet. What had become of him? Had
-he put on his best suit?</p>
-
-<p>They had made a clothes-press out of a dry goods
-box, and Tim went to inspect it. Why&mdash;Jerry’s
-shelf was entirely empty. Shirts, stockings, yes,
-everything, even to his old every-day suit, gone.
-Tim dropped on the floor, and hid his face in his
-hands. Had Jerry&mdash;</p>
-
-<p>It was funny, but Tim squared off and gave the box
-a thump that bruised his knuckles. It seemed to him
-that the box had breathed a suspicion that Jerry had
-stolen the money and run away. Then he kicked it,
-and sat down and cried as if his heart would break.
-His pardner, little Jerry, a thief! No, he would
-never, never believe it.</p>
-
-<p>He sat up till midnight, and it seemed to him there
-had never been such loneliness since the world began.
-Then the next morning he made some inquiries.
-Their two nearest neighbors were washerwomen.
-Both had been out all day. No one had seen
-Jerry.</p>
-
-<p>If Jerry’s father were not in prison&mdash;but he had
-been sent up in February for a year, and here it was
-only the last of June. Or if there had been any evil
-companions hanging around; but Jerry and every
-scrap of his belongings, as well as the money, had
-surely disappeared.</p>
-
-<p>There was no gay excursion for Tim. He brooded
-over his desertion, and grew morose, began to save his
-money again, and shut himself up like a hermit. The
-poor, crippled boy that he had taken to his heart, that
-he had warmed and fed! Ah! it was very bitter.
-Perhaps not even his beautiful Miss May would care
-to remember him.</p>
-
-<p>So he did not go near her. Autumn came on
-apace. One dreary November day, when he could
-find nothing to do, he turned homeward, weary and
-heart-sick. Ah, if there was only a cheery voice to
-welcome him!</p>
-
-<p>Some one stood by his door, a lady in dainty attire.
-Some one caught his arm, and cried,&mdash;</p>
-
-<p>“O, Tim, I’m so glad you have come! I have
-been waiting almost an hour. Tim, I’ve found little
-Jerry, and he is dying; but he asks for you constantly.
-Come right away. Don’t lose a moment.”</p>
-
-<p>“Jerry!” in a sort of dazed way, as if he but half
-understood. “Little Jerry&mdash;my pardner? O, Miss
-May&mdash;no, you can’t mean it&mdash;dying?”</p>
-
-<p>“Yes. Hurry, Tim. I’ve waited so long already!”</p>
-
-<p>They walked down the stairs, scudded through the
-streets to a horse car. It seemed to Tim as if they
-rode an hour. Then they alighted, and a short walk
-brought them to a decent looking tenement house.
-Up one flight of stairs, and the door opened.</p>
-
-<p>“Is it Tim?” asked a weak voice.</p>
-
-<p>Tim threw himself on his knees by the bedside,
-and kissed the sweet, wan face with the tenderness
-of a mother. For some minutes only sobs were
-heard.</p>
-
-<p>“You told him, Miss May?”</p>
-
-<p>“No, Jerry. We hurried so there was no chance.
-But I will tell him every word.”</p>
-
-<p>“O, Tim, you didn’t think I was a thief? It broke
-my heart to go. It was father. He got out some
-way, and had been watching us. He came that night
-when we were so happy counting our money, but he
-didn’t dare offer to take me away then. The next
-morning he walked in with a paper, which he said
-was a warrant for me, and that if I dared to say
-a word he’d send me to the Refuge. I picked up
-my things&mdash;I was so afraid of him&mdash;and then he
-wanted the money, and swore if I didn’t get it he’d
-murder me. I told him I wouldn’t; so he tied my
-hands and bound my mouth, lest I should scream,
-and then he hunted everywhere; and O, Tim, he
-found it! He took me right out of the city with
-him to a vile den, where they wanted to make a
-thief of me.”</p>
-
-<p>“O, Jerry, dear, don’t talk; it takes away all your
-strength. God knows I never could have a hard
-thought of you now;” and Tim broke down.</p>
-
-<p>“Just a little. I couldn’t get back to you. They
-watched me, and beat me until I was sore and stiff;
-and there I staid until only a fortnight ago, when one
-night I gave them the slip. I wanted to come back
-and tell you how it was, but the way was so far, and
-I was so tired, so tired! Then I fell down in the
-street, and a good woman picked me up and brought
-me in here, where it’s so nice and clean, Tim, and
-such a quiet place to die in! And then I don’t seem
-to remember much until yesterday, when Miss May
-came in, and this morning, when she brought her
-father. And then I wanted to see you, to tell you&mdash;Tim,
-if I could live and earn the money&mdash;you were
-so good to me&mdash;so good. Tim, if you could hold
-me in your arms again! Miss May said I would find
-mammy in heaven; that God cared for poor little
-boys. Does He, Tim? I like you to tell me. And
-will you come and let me be your pardner again?
-Is it very far? Kiss me, Tim. You know now I
-wasn’t a thief. Miss May sang something yesterday
-about opening the starry gates&mdash;”</p>
-
-<div class="poetry-container">
-<div class="poetry">
-<div class="stanza">
-<div class="verse indent0">“At the portals Jesus waits;</div>
-<div class="verse indent1">All the heavenly host, begin;</div>
-<div class="verse indent0">Open wide the starry gates,</div>
-<div class="verse indent1">Let the little traveller in,”</div>
-</div>
-</div>
-</div>
-
-<p>sang the sweet voice over a tremulous sob.</p>
-
-<p>Closer clung the thin arms, and the cool cheek was
-pressed against Tim’s, hot with burning tears. The
-little hands that had kept their house tidy, and prepared
-the simple meals, lay limp and useless. The
-eyes could not see any more, but the lips smiled and
-murmured a few incoherent words, soft, sweet, and
-then an awesome silence. The little waif Jerry had
-gone over the river.</p>
-
-<p>“O, Miss May,” cried Tim, “they <i>will</i> take him in&mdash;won’t
-they? For, you see, the poor little chap didn’t
-have a square chance in this world! He’s been
-kicked and cuffed about, and had to go on crutches,
-an’ been half starved many a time, but he wouldn’t
-lie nor steal for all that. He ought to be happy
-somewheres. O, Jerry! Jerry! I loved you so! And
-you was true to the last!”</p>
-
-<p>“They will take him in,” Miss May says, with solemn
-tenderness. And presently she unclasps the arms
-that are wound around Jerry’s neck, lays the poor
-hands straight, and leads Tim over by the window.
-He looks at her with dumb, questioning eyes, as if he
-would fain have her fathom the mystery that he knows
-so little about. She brushes away some tears; but
-O, what can she say to comfort him? For Jerry was
-all he had.</p>
-
-<p>Presently Tim comes back and kisses the cold lips
-and stares at the strange beauty overspreading the
-wan face.</p>
-
-<p>“O, Miss May,” he cries, “do you suppose I could
-ever earn enough to pay for his being buried in some
-country place, where there’d be a few flowers and a
-tree growing over him? I’d work all my life long.
-For he’d like it so. I can’t bear to think of having
-him carried away&mdash;”</p>
-
-<div class="figright">
-<img src="images/fig89b.jpg" alt="" />
-</div>
-
-<p>“No,” she says, with a shiver. “I will see about
-it, Tim.” Then she gives a few orders to the woman,
-and goes away, leaving Tim with his “pardner.”</p>
-
-<p>Dr. May shook his head at his daughter at first,
-and said it was folly; but two days after he had him
-buried in a pretty rural cemetery, with a white marble
-slab above his head containing two words&mdash;“Tim’s
-Partner.” And Tim, who takes care of the doctor’s
-horse now, and does odd chores, pauses occasionally
-and says to Miss May, “There never can be anybody
-quite like Jerry to me again. Over in the other country
-we’ll be pardners forever.”</p>
-
-
-
-<div class="figleft">
-<img src="images/fig90.jpg" alt="" />
-</div>
-
-
-<hr class="full x-ebookmaker-drop" />
-
-<div class="chapter">
-
-
-<h2 class="nobreak" id="c24">“UNTO BABES.”</h2>
-</div>
-
-<hr class="r5" />
-<p class="c more">BY HELEN KENDRICK JOHNSON.</p>
-<hr class="r6" />
-
-
-
-
-<p class="drop-cap">“’ET, ittie oottie, I dettie ut ’en it det e ittie
-iter;” which, being interpreted, means,
-“Yes, little rooster, I’ll get up when it gets a little
-lighter.”</p>
-
-<p>The same was uttered by a pair of cherry lips,
-opening below a pair of laughing eyes, which were
-parted from the cherry lips by a cherry nose. The
-nose was cherry because it stuck out from the face so
-round and plump that the sun, which had been around
-painting cherries just this time of the year, threw a
-glance at it and said, “There’s another!” and gave
-it a good strong stroke with his brush. This little accident
-made the whole face look funny; for, like most
-people who do their work in a hurry, the sun had
-dipped up so much paint, and dashed it at the nose so
-carelessly, that it had hit ever so many other places&mdash;a
-spot on the chin, a daub on the cheeks, and a
-streak on the forehead.</p>
-
-<p>Now there is some excuse for the sun; for while
-everybody knows that boys never will stand still long
-enough to have their faces properly attended to,
-everybody, little and big, and not only that, but every
-tree and flower and blade of grass, keeps dancing and
-whirling about, while the sun is trying to fix it.</p>
-
-<p>The result is just what you would expect&mdash;apples
-with one red cheek and one white one, blackberries
-with three colors on the same stem, so that the boys
-can always quote the old riddle, “blackberries are
-red when they’re green,” and cherries that make half
-your pail-full, “not fit to eat,” according to your
-mother, and speckled little fellows, just like this
-one.</p>
-
-<p>On this particular morning there was great excitement
-in the towzley head that popped up to make the
-lucid remark above quoted. His big sister did not
-dream that little Wide Awake took it all literally when
-she said, “Don’t get up the first time the rooster
-crows.”</p>
-
-<p>She forgot that childhood’s sweetest trait is trust,
-and she was startled to remember it when she heard
-the precious little fellow’s sweet voice twitter out in
-the faint dawn:</p>
-
-<p>“Et, ittie ootie, I dettie ut ’en it det e ittie iter.”</p>
-
-<p>Long before the sun had fairly got his paints mixed
-for another dash at the fruit and the children, Strut
-crowed again.</p>
-
-<p>Was Wide Awake asleep? Asleep, indeed! Up
-went the head again, and this time two flying heels
-followed, and the bright voice sang again:</p>
-
-<p>“’E ootie c’ows, an’ <i>a’aw</i> ’e do’s.”</p>
-
-<p>He meant to say:</p>
-
-<p>“The rooster crows, and away he goes,” meaning
-his little self.</p>
-
-<p>“Little brother, it isn’t time to get up for an hour.
-Hop into bed again,” called out Sister Laura.</p>
-
-<p>“’Ou ed e <i>’econ’</i> tine,” said a sorrowful, drooping
-little voice.</p>
-
-<p>“Go to sleep&mdash;that’s a good boy!” was the answer,
-and Laura set the copy for him by going off
-instantly herself.</p>
-
-<p>But Wide Awake had not won his name without
-deserving it, and he passed a long and lonesome hour
-trying to amuse himself with nothing.</p>
-
-<p>Finally, dressing-time came. When he reached the
-kitchen, all was as busy as a coming picnic could
-make it. Dinah was flying from cellar to pantry, and
-from pantry to oven. As soon as he got to the back
-stairs door-way, Wide Awake spied something wrong
-high up on Dinah’s back.</p>
-
-<p>“Attieilly on ou olly,” he cried out.</p>
-
-<p>“Keep still, Allie; don’t boffer me screaming,”
-said Dinah.</p>
-
-<p>“<i>Attieilly on ou olly</i>,” said he, coming close to her,
-and pointing, and pulling her dress.</p>
-
-<p>“Go ’long, I tell you!” said she. “I’ll tell your
-sister, and you won’t get no cake.”</p>
-
-<p>Allie reluctantly stepped back a little; but he
-spoke volumes of anxiety, had any one been looking.</p>
-
-<p>No one was.</p>
-
-<p>“Oh! what’s dat on my neck?” screamed out Dinah,
-in a minute. “Oh-h-h!”</p>
-
-<p>“Allie <i>tole</i> Dine attieilly on ou olly,” said Allie, as
-Dinah’s cries brought Laura, who picked off from Dinah’s
-neck an immense caterpillar, which the patient
-little fellow had been compelled to watch in its upward
-journey from the shoulder where he first espied it.</p>
-
-<p>At length the preparations were fairly finished, the
-horses were at the door, Allie’s eyes were dancing
-almost out of his head with joy, the refreshments were
-all packed in, and, almost in the midst of the baskets
-a stool was set for Allie, and his happy little self deposited
-upon it. The rest were finally seated, and
-the picnickers move off for Dudley’s woods.</p>
-
-<p>Everybody talked and laughed together; and Allie
-sang to himself, with no fear of being heard. Presently
-he seized an end of his sister’s shawl, and
-shouted with all his might:</p>
-
-<p>“Doos, Laula, doos!”</p>
-
-<p>“Yes, dear, Laula knows.”</p>
-
-<p>“<i>My</i> doos, Laula! my <i>doos</i> ober dare.”</p>
-
-<p>“Yes, dear, never mind,” was the answer.</p>
-
-<p>“Ve’er min’ <i>doos</i>, Laula?” said the voice, anxiously.</p>
-
-<p>“No, never mind, we’ll see another.”</p>
-
-<p>“Where is the feather on your hat, child?” asked
-Laura, when they had ridden two miles farther.</p>
-
-<p>“Doos <i>dawn</i>, Laula; ’ou ed no min’ my doos.”</p>
-
-<p>“Dear me! that was what he called his feather,&mdash;his
-goose,” said she. “I might have remembered.”</p>
-
-<p>“Laula, Allie’s feets feel ’et.”</p>
-
-<p>“Wet, child? I guess not,” said Laura, and
-chatted on.</p>
-
-<p>They were nearing the woods as she spoke, and
-soon the loaded carriages turned into a wood so uninviting
-and full of underbrush that you looked again
-all over the party to see if they appeared crazy from
-anything but gay spirits.</p>
-
-<p>No, they were sane, no doubt; and there must be
-an explanation for such a choice. The explanation
-was, that it was not choice at all, it was circumstance
-which guided them. Twenty-five years ago that very
-day, a party of four young married people, with their
-older children, had come to this wood to pick blackberries,
-which grew in great abundance upon its borders.
-It was half a frolic; but still it was no accident
-that sent them home with forty shining black quarts
-to enjoy by their firesides. The next year they went
-again, and the next, and the next; and every year
-the company grew larger. But, strange to say, as it
-grew larger the quarts grew smaller, and finally, somehow
-or other, “the blackberries are not worth picking
-this year;” or “the blackberries are all dried up
-this year,” became the continual complaint when the
-excursionists returned home with emptier and emptier
-baskets.</p>
-
-<p>But the “Blackberry Party” grew as thick as its
-namesake fruit had been of old, and now, for twenty-five
-years, fathers and mothers, sons and daughters,
-grandchildren and neighbors, gathered to the time-honored
-festival. To be sure, every year more of the
-elders stayed behind, because they missed one and
-another who were there “last year,” and life’s merriment
-was checked for them forever until they should
-follow.</p>
-
-<p>But new ones had come to take the lead, and the
-merry scenes went on in the gnarled old forest. It
-was a strange fact that in all these years the day on
-which the picnic occurred had never been stormy.
-A glorious succession of bright days had spanned the
-quarter of a century, and it was taken as a sign that
-heaven smiled peculiarly upon the innocent joy which
-the day was sure to bring.</p>
-
-<p>This was the quarter centennial, and the procession
-had picked up little Allie, as “big enough to go this
-year.” And so little Allie was very happy, although,
-in spite of Sister Laura’s assurance, he <i>did</i> think that
-his feet were “’et.”</p>
-
-<p>Laura thought so too, in a minute; for she lifted a
-can that had once held six quarts from the “morning’s
-milking,” and found “only a stingy little pint or
-so,” left.</p>
-
-<p>“Allie’s feet <i>us</i> ’et, Laula,” said the voice, which
-did not dream that it sounded like the silver trumpet
-of an unheeded angel.</p>
-
-<p>“Fisk an’ Tarlo ginkin auty, Laula,” said Allie
-once more.</p>
-
-<p>“Carlo naughty! drive him away. But he won’t
-bite Allie.”</p>
-
-<p>“No, <i>’e bite auty</i>, ’pring auty.”</p>
-
-<p>“Never mind,&mdash;he won’t hurt you. Carlo is a
-good doggie.”</p>
-
-<p>“Go ’way, there! What are you doing, you
-scamps! I declare! Frisk and Carlo have been
-drinking half that spring water!”</p>
-
-<p>“Allie tole Laula.”</p>
-
-<p>But Laula was bemoaning the loss; for the spring
-was almost a mile away, and this wood was provided
-with no modern conveniences.</p>
-
-<p>The cask of ice-water was too precious to be used
-for cooking purposes, and away trudged the youths
-for another bucket-full.</p>
-
-<p>This weakened the effective force of the dinner
-getters materially; for, under the pretense of picking
-the traditional blackberries, nearly all the party, in
-couples or in groups, had strayed off to parts unseen.
-The remaining ones were lighting a lively fire, and
-going through various manœuvres before it, and a
-certain odor therefrom said plainly, “You don’t often
-get better coffee than I come from.”</p>
-
-<p>Allie, meantime, was roaming about unnoticed.
-He gained an immense amount of information in this
-leisure hour.</p>
-
-<p>Presently Laura called out, “I have got the lemons
-ready; bring me that box of sugar.”</p>
-
-<p>The box was brought, a ten-pound one, and full to
-the brim.</p>
-
-<p>“Laula, don’ pu’ dat! Dat au ’alt, Laula!”</p>
-
-<p>“Allie doesn’t like to see his pet sugar thrown
-away in such a big hole,” said she, gayly, as she emptied
-the box into the oaken cask. “Run for the ice-water,
-I hear them coming from all directions.”</p>
-
-<p>Great white lumps of ice, pure cold water,&mdash;in
-they went, and Laura stirred violently with her monstrous
-ladle.</p>
-
-<p>“Allie shall have the first taste,” said she, “to
-show him that his dear sugar is not wasted.”</p>
-
-<p>“Allie don’ wan’! Allie know e au ’alt.”</p>
-
-<p>“All spoilt? No, dear, just see how nice it is!”</p>
-
-<p>“Laula pu’ in ’<i>alt</i>,” said he, again. “Laula ta’!”</p>
-
-<p>Laula did “ta’,” then; and she dropped the cup
-with a scream of horror. For, besides the fact that
-ten pounds of salt in any combination do not help to
-make either a refreshing or a thirst-allaying drink,
-here were five dozen fine lemons, and many quarts of
-ice-water, a hopeless loss.</p>
-
-<p>“How could that stupid Dinah bring the salt
-instead of the sugar?” she muttered, as soon as vexation
-would allow her to speak at all.</p>
-
-<p>One by one the party dropped in, and the first cry
-was for lemonade, “Laura’s famous manufacture.”
-More famous than it ever had been it became immediately,
-and, amid the general din of exclamations no
-one heard Allie say:</p>
-
-<p>“Allie knew. Allie <i>tole</i> Laula ’bout <i>’alt</i>!”</p>
-
-<p>Then was felt, with greater cruelty, the absence of
-milk for the fragrant coffee; and the delicious cake,
-and sandwiches, and ham, and turkey, and tarts, and
-pastry, were but half enjoyed.</p>
-
-<p>It was with a heavy heart that poor Laura packed
-up the dishes, and laid away more untouched food,
-than usual.</p>
-
-<p>A row of lemon and berry pies had been set upon
-one of the benches; and somebody, to keep the insects
-out, had thrown a table-cloth upon them. Along
-came two lovers, whose visions were only fairy-like,
-and who were in that state of mind when it made no
-difference where they rested or went, so that they
-rested or went together. With their eyes entirely occupied
-in gazing at one another, they wandered up to
-the temporary cupboard.</p>
-
-<p>A little voice close by fairly screamed out:</p>
-
-<p>“Don’ ’it on ’e bys! Don’t ’it on ’e bys!”</p>
-
-<p>A vague smile into his earnest face was all the reply
-he received, and down sat the pair, too full of a
-fond trust in themselves to remember to doubt anything
-created.</p>
-
-<p>“Oh! oh! oh! oh!” resounded all about them,
-and an instant later their own “oh” mingled in the
-chorus, as the groan of broken crockery rose on the air,
-and table-cloth and drapery were pronounced a ruin.</p>
-
-<p>“’Ou ’at wite on ’e bys,” said a voice which was
-not needed to confirm the fact.</p>
-
-<p>At length the light of the twenty-fifth glorious day
-began to steal in long darting lines among the foliage
-that had been a shelter from its rays all day. As the
-company assembled, it was found to have been an
-unusually bad year for blackberries, though why it
-should have been the most imaginative did not venture
-to suggest.</p>
-
-<p>As they started homeward Laura said:</p>
-
-<p>“Now sit right still, Allie, for fear you should fall
-out, for we shall go very fast indeed.”</p>
-
-<p>There was little need for the warning, as Allie was
-well wedged down in front, and well wrapped up in an
-extra shawl of Laura’s, because she forgot to bring
-his little overcoat.</p>
-
-<p>But by-and-by the whip worked quietly out of its
-broken holder, and no eyes but the two bright, observant
-eyes in the littlest head saw that in a minute it
-must fall.</p>
-
-<p>The little fellow tried to dart forward, but the great
-shawl held him too securely.</p>
-
-<p>“Sit still, Allie,” said Laura.</p>
-
-<p>Poor Allie seemed to think he might as well, too.
-His warnings had saved nothing, yet; but still from
-his huge roll of woolen he said:</p>
-
-<p>“’E ’ip dop, Laula.”</p>
-
-<p>Presently the horses lagged a little, and the driver,
-leaning forward for his whip, discovered its loss.</p>
-
-<p>The long procession halted, wondering what had
-happened to the first carriage. The whip was found,
-“’way back,” and, as two carriages had passed over
-it, it was a handsome whip no more.</p>
-
-<p>“What a shame!” said the driver, as he tried to
-crack the broken lash.</p>
-
-<p>“Allie tole ’ou. Allie’s patint am keen wown ou’!”
-fell from the cherry lips.</p>
-
-<p>Now came home and bed for the little child who
-had begun to be joyous in anticipation at four o’clock
-in the morning. No wonder that in such a long series
-of discouragements his “patience was clear wore
-out.”</p>
-
-<p>His sleep that night was broken by a kind of baby-boy,
-Cassandra-like murmur, which would have
-touched to its depths the heart of any tender soul
-that heard it.</p>
-
-<p>“Laula,” it said, plaintively, “Allie tole ’ou!”</p>
-
-<p>But Laula was fast asleep.</p>
-
-<div class="figcenter">
-<img src="images/fig91.jpg" alt="" />
-<p class="caption">A PRIZE FOR A SQUIRREL.</p>
-</div>
-
-
-<hr class="full x-ebookmaker-drop" />
-
-<div class="chapter">
-
-<div class="figcenter" id="c25">
-<img src="images/fig92.jpg" alt="" />
-</div>
-
-<h2 class="nobreak">WHAT HAPPENED TO THE BABY.</h2>
-</div>
-
-
-<hr class="r5" />
-<p class="c more">BY MAGARET EYTINGE.</p>
-<hr class="r6" />
-
-
-
-
-<p class="drop-cap">THE Tutchy children were all mad.</p>
-
-<p>I don’t mean they had lost their senses and
-required strait-jackets, but they certainly did need
-something to smooth the frowns from their brows and
-the pouts from their lips.</p>
-
-<p>The Tutchy children were pretty children&mdash;when
-they weren’t mad&mdash;with bright blue eyes, much the
-color of some of their grandmother’s centennial
-dinner-plates, and auburn hair that looked as though
-it would, on the slightest provocation, turn red.</p>
-
-<p>There were nine of them, Susie, Willie, Robbie,
-Lizzie, Nellie, Annie, Sallie, Maud and Baby.</p>
-
-<p>Quite enough for such a little woman as Mrs.
-Tutchy to look after.</p>
-
-<p>Captain Tutchy was away&mdash;he was away about
-half the time with his ship “The Treasure”&mdash;named,
-he said, after his wife&mdash;and Mrs. Tutchy had just
-received a letter from him saying he could not be
-home for the Christmas holidays, and so the children
-must wait for their presents and their party until he
-came, “and you may expect me, my dear,” the letter
-ended, “the second day of the New Year.”</p>
-
-<p>And this is why the Tutchy children were mad.</p>
-
-<p>They said nothing until mamma, hearing baby cry,
-went out of the room. Then they began:</p>
-
-<p>“What will Christmas be without papa?” said
-Lizzie. “Who’s to laugh, I’d like to know? Papa
-does most of the laughing.”</p>
-
-<p>“I shan’t, for one!” said Willie.</p>
-
-<p>“Nor I,” said Robbie.</p>
-
-<p>“There won’t be a bit of fun getting up early on
-Christmas morning,” said Nellie. “No boxes to
-open, and no stockings to empty!”</p>
-
-<p>“<i>I’ll</i> not hang up my stocking, and I’ll not get up
-early, either&mdash;so there now!” said Annie.</p>
-
-<p>“Why? won’t Santa Claus come at all?” asked
-Sallie and Maud, in one breath.</p>
-
-<p>“Yes, I s’pose he’ll come,” answered Annie, “but
-he won’t bring such nice things as he does when
-papa’s home. He’s a very, very old friend of
-papa’s.”</p>
-
-<p>“No party! Just think of it!” said Susie.
-“’Twon’t seem like Christmas.”</p>
-
-<p>“And the captain,” said Robbie, who was fond of
-giving the captain his title, “isn’t coming back till
-the day school begins. He never did such a thing
-before, and <i>I</i> think it’s real mean!”</p>
-
-<p>“Great old holidays!” said Lizzie.</p>
-
-<p>“<i>I’m</i> mad!” said Susie, who, by-the-by, was the
-eldest of them all.</p>
-
-<p>“So are we all of us!” said the others in chorus.</p>
-
-<p>Just then Mrs. Tutchy came into the room with
-Baby in her arms, and in Baby’s arms was a funny,
-broken-nosed doll.</p>
-
-<p>Baby was the sweetest, dearest little thing that ever
-played “patty-cake” or said “goo.”</p>
-
-<p>Her eyes were so blue that you thought of violets,
-blue-bells, and summer skies, the moment you saw
-them, and then gave it up, for there was nothing quite
-as blue as they were, and her silken hair lay all over
-her pretty, round head in tiny rings just the size and
-color of mamma’s wedding-ring.</p>
-
-<p>Mrs. Tutchy looked both surprised and sad when
-she saw eight frowns and pouts&mdash;perhaps I should
-say seven, as wee Maud’s almost disappeared when
-she looked up at her mother&mdash;instead of eight
-smiles.</p>
-
-<p>But she pretended not to notice the sixteen unlovely
-things, and said, in a pleasant voice, “Baby is ready
-for a ride. I have wrapped her up warmly. Get her
-hood, Susie, and, Willie and Robbie, fasten her little
-wagon on your new sled. You may all go for a walk&mdash;I
-don’t remember such a fine 24th of December
-for years&mdash;but I shall expect you home in an hour,
-and whatever you do, take good care of Baby.”</p>
-
-<p>Now if the Tutchy children had not been mad they
-would have jumped up and down and shouted and
-half-smothered Baby with hugs and kisses; but being
-mad, they went silently about&mdash;their silence, to tell
-the truth, would have been considered noise by a
-small, quiet family&mdash;preparing for their walk.</p>
-
-<p>And when they were ready, if Maud had not set
-them the example, they would have actually forgotten
-to kiss mamma “good-by.” Dear me! how mad they
-were!</p>
-
-<p>Off they started in a funereal manner, Susie and
-Maud ahead, the other girls following two by two,
-and the boys dragging Baby, still holding the broken-nosed
-doll, in her little wagon on the sled, bringing
-up the rear.</p>
-
-<p>Baby crowed and cooed and prattled to her dollie&mdash;there
-never was a jollier baby in the whole world&mdash;but
-still Will and Bobbie frowned and pouted.</p>
-
-<p>“I wish we didn’t have to lug Baby everywhere,”
-at last said Willie.</p>
-
-<p>“So do I,” said Robbie.</p>
-
-<p>They had never thought, much less said such a
-thing before, but then they had never been quite as
-mad before.</p>
-
-<p>Suddenly the sound of a drum was heard, then the
-shrill blasts of horns and the ear-piercing strains of a
-fife, and they could see a crowd gathering in the
-distance.</p>
-
-<p>“Hurry up!” called Susie, who had remarkably
-sharp eyes, “there’s some men on horseback dressed
-awful funny!” and away she ran, dragging Maud by
-the hand, and away went Nellie, Lizzie, Annie and
-Sallie after her as fast as they could go.</p>
-
-<p>“We can’t run with Baby,” said Willie, “and we’ll
-miss all the fun!”</p>
-
-<p>“Too bad!” said Robbie, with two frowns rolled
-into one. “But I say, Will, let’s go anyhow.”</p>
-
-<p>“Pshaw! there won’t be anything to see by the
-time <i>we</i> get there,” said Will.</p>
-
-<p>“I don’t mean to take Baby,” said Robbie. “We’ll
-leave her by the door of this empty house. Nothing
-can happen to her before we come back.”</p>
-
-<p>“That’s so,” said Will, “we won’t be gone a minute;”
-and they lifted the sled, wagon and all, up the
-two steps that led to the door, and, before Baby knew
-what they were about, they were off.</p>
-
-<p>The other children were already two blocks away,
-but the boys soon overtook them, and another block
-brought them to the spot where the crowd was
-gathered.</p>
-
-<p>The frowns and pouts, for the time being, disappeared,
-and the Tutchys laughed long and loud at the
-antics of the queer-looking figures who were parading
-about with a patch-work banner inscribed, “Old
-Original Santa Claus Guards,” when suddenly Susie
-turned around, and with frightened eyes cried out:</p>
-
-<p>“Why Will,&mdash;Robbie, where’s Baby?”</p>
-
-<p>Will hung his head, but Robbie, assuming a careless
-air, replied:</p>
-
-<p>“The captain’s youngest daughter? O! she’s
-safe. We couldn’t bring her and run after you too,
-and so we left her.”</p>
-
-<p>But Susie waited to hear no more. “Show me
-where!” she said, and they all started back again
-on a much faster run than that with which they had
-followed “The Old Original Santa Claus Guards.”</p>
-
-<p>The “house to let” was quickly reached.</p>
-
-<p>No sled&mdash;no wagon&mdash;no broken-nosed doll&mdash;no
-BABY was there!</p>
-
-<p>And now indeed the frowns and pouts took flight,
-and tears and sobs came in their stead.</p>
-
-<p>“O dear! O dear!” cried the Tutchy children,
-“what shall we do?”</p>
-
-<p>Then they ran hither and thither, asking every one
-they met:</p>
-
-<p>“Have you seen a baby in a little wagon on a
-sled?”</p>
-
-<p>“A beautiful baby, with blue eyes?”</p>
-
-<p>“A broken-nosed baby&mdash;O, no, no, no! a <i>lovely</i>
-baby with a broken-nosed doll?”</p>
-
-<p>“A sweet baby, with golden curls?”</p>
-
-<p>“A baby named ‘Snow-drop’ and ‘Diamond’ and
-‘Bird’ and ‘Plum’?”</p>
-
-<p>No one had seen her, and sadly the procession took
-up the line of march for home.</p>
-
-<p>How they told their mamma they never knew, but
-when the tale was done she gave one great gasp, and
-tore out of the house like a wild woman, with no hat
-on her head, and nothing but a small shawl about her.</p>
-
-<p>“I must go too,” said Susie, and she flew after the
-poor distracted mother, while the seven other children
-sat down on the floor and cried.</p>
-
-<p>“O! how wicked we have been,” said Lizzie, “to say
-that to-morrow wouldn’t be a merry Christmas, when
-we had such a darling, beautiful baby!”</p>
-
-<p>“And dear papa coming home in a few days!”
-sobbed Nellie.</p>
-
-<p>“And mamma so good and sweet!” said Sallie.</p>
-
-<p>“And all of us such very nice chilluns!” said Maud.</p>
-
-<p>Willie and Robbie said nothing, but buried their
-faces in their hands, and wept softly.</p>
-
-<div class="figcenter">
-<img src="images/fig93.jpg" alt="" />
-<p class="caption">“I SEE DIS YERE BABY A-SETTIN’ ON A SLED.”</p>
-</div>
-
-<p>The sun went down, and back came mamma and
-Susie, hollow-eyed and pale, but no Baby.</p>
-
-<p>Not one of the children thought of stockings, or
-presents, or parties, or Christmas itself, that wretched
-Christmas Eve, but they clustered in silence, real
-silence this time, about their mother, until one by one
-they fell asleep.</p>
-
-<p>But Mrs. Tutchy sat with dry, wide-opened eyes,
-listening&mdash;listening all night long, until the joyous
-morning chimes rang out upon the clear, frosty
-air.</p>
-
-<p>As they ceased, the sharp ringing of the street door-bell
-echoed through the quiet house.</p>
-
-<p>Dropping wee Maud from her lap, where she had
-slept for several hours, the poor little woman, her
-heart beating loud and fast, hastened with trembling
-steps to the door and flung it open.</p>
-
-<p>There stood a tall, straight negro woman, with a
-gaudy turban on her head, a small boy, much darker
-than herself, clinging to her skirts with one hand, and
-yes&mdash;O, thanks to the good God&mdash;holding the rope
-of the boys’ sled with the other, baby in her arms!</p>
-
-<p>Almost as wild with joy as she had been with
-sorrow, the mother snatched her darling, and covered
-her with kisses.</p>
-
-<p>“Come in, come in,” she cried, in her old, pleasant
-voice, the tired gone out of her face, and her eyes
-shining bright with happiness.</p>
-
-<p>Up jumped the Tutchy children from all corners of
-the room, and such a hurrahing and shouting of
-“Merry Christmas,” and kissing of Baby never was
-known, even in <i>that</i> house before.</p>
-
-<p>“An’ now, yo’ Abraham Ulysses, yo’ jess tell the
-lady yo’ information,” said the woman to the grinning
-boy, pulling her dress out of his hand, and pushing
-him forward.</p>
-
-<p>“Needn’t push so,” said Abraham Ulysses, rolling
-his eyes about in the most wonderful manner for a
-moment, and then fixing them solemnly on Mrs.
-Tutchy’s face.</p>
-
-<p>“I war a-goin’ along, an’ da’ war a drum down da’&mdash;I’s
-goin’ to have a drum&mdash;”</p>
-
-<p>“I’ll <i>drum</i> ye,” interrupted his mother, giving him
-a smart slap on the cheek. “Perceed on yo’ story
-widout no prelimnaries.”</p>
-
-<p>“Yo’ jess stop dat now, Mary Ann Johnson. I
-ain’t tellin’ no story. I’s tellin’ the truff, ebery word
-of it, an’ yo’d better mine yo’ brack bisness, Mary
-Ann Johnson, and dat’s de fac’!”</p>
-
-<p>“Lissen at dat ar sassy young nigger!” said Mary
-Ann Johnson, raising her hands and eyes. “Go on,
-I tell yo.”</p>
-
-<p>Abraham Ulysses went on.</p>
-
-<p>“Da war a drum an’ sojers&mdash;I’s goin’ to be a
-sojer, a sword sojer&mdash;and all de wite folks dey runned
-to see ’em, an’ I runned, too, but ’pears, tho’, I
-couldn’t git da’, an’ I see dis yere baby a-settin’ on a
-sled, an’ I sez to myself, ‘Bressed nippers! Abra’m
-’Lysses, dat ar’s one of dem angel babies dat done
-come done from hebben Chrismasses, an’ dat ar’ sled
-she’s a-settin on, Santy Close’s goin’ to giv’ to yo’
-sho’s yo’ bohn!’ an’ I took hole dat ar rope, an’ drug
-dat ar’ sled&mdash;”</p>
-
-<p>“To our premises,” interrupted his mother, “an’ he
-cum a-runnin’ in, an’ a-shoutin’ ‘Hi! mam, here’s a
-little angel fer yo’! take her out de waggin quick, an’
-giv’ de sled to me.’”</p>
-
-<p>“But bress yo’ heart, honey, I knowed dat ar’ baby
-was mislaid de minute dese eyes beheld her, an’ I took
-de sweet thing in my arms an’ mollified her tears, an’
-giv’ her some milk an’ soon she fell asleep.</p>
-
-<p>“An’ I set up dis yere bressed night wid dat ar’
-bressed chile, ’spectin’ ebery minute somebody’d
-come and require for her, an’ sho’ ’nuff, a perliceman
-makes his appearment early dis yere bressed mornin’
-an’ tole me&mdash;how he foun’ out war de chile was de
-Lord ony knows&mdash;to fetch de pooty lammie here, an’
-I done come tho’ Mr. Johnson is a-waitin fer his
-breakfis’, an’ de pork a-sizzlin’ in de pan dis yere
-bressed minute.”</p>
-
-<p>“Thank you a million times!” said Mrs. Tutchy;
-and in the twinkling of an eye Mary Ann Johnson was
-several dollars richer than when she entered the room.</p>
-
-<p>“Thank you a million of times!” repeated the
-children; and Will, after whispering a moment with
-Robbie, went up to Abraham Ulysses, and placed the
-rope of the sled, which he had dropped while telling
-his story, in his funny little black hand. “The ‘Two-Forty’
-is yours,” he said.</p>
-
-<p>“Hi, mam! look a-yere, yo’ Mary Ann Johnson, wot
-I done tole yo’? Santy Close <i>did</i> send it to me,”
-screamed Abraham Ulysses, cutting a queer caper,
-“an’ sho’s yo’s bohn dat ar’ baby <i>is</i> an angel, too,
-ain’t she?” turning to Mrs. Tutchy.</p>
-
-<p>“Yes, my boy,” said the happy little woman, “the
-angel of <i>this</i> house.”</p>
-
-<div class="figcenter">
-<img src="images/fig94.jpg" alt="" />
-</div>
-
-<hr class="full x-ebookmaker-drop" />
-
-<div class="figcenter">
-<img src="images/fig95.jpg" alt="" />
-<p class="caption">A TURKISH CARRIAGE.</p>
-</div>
-
-
-<hr class="full x-ebookmaker-drop" />
-
-<div class="chapter">
-
-<div class="figcenter" id="c26">
-<img src="images/fig96.jpg" alt="" />
-</div>
-
-
-<h2 class="nobreak">MRS. WHITE’S PARTY.</h2>
-</div>
-
-
-
-<hr class="r5" />
-<p class="c more">BY MRS. H. G. ROWE.</p>
-<hr class="r6" />
-
-
-<p class="drop-cap">“NOW, Ef May, you go right straight back home!
-Lotty an’ I want a little time to ourselves without
-a little snip like you taggin’ after, an’ listenin’ to
-every word we say; so you go right straight back this
-minute!”</p>
-
-<p>Little Effie Maylie Marsh (called “Ef May” for
-short) turned her round blue eyes for a moment full
-upon her sister, and then, without word or sign, trotted
-composedly along in that sister’s wake, serenely
-oblivious of the fact that she was the one too many
-in the little party that had started, joyful at the prospect
-of a whole afternoon’s confidential chat, for the
-blackberry patch over the hill, when poor Ef May as
-usual intruded her roly-poly presence just when she
-was least wanted.</p>
-
-<p>“Did Mother know that you came?”</p>
-
-<p>Sister Anne looked and spoke with all the dignity
-that her twelve years was capable of, but the intruder
-never flinched.</p>
-
-<p>“Yes, she did. <i>I</i> said lemme go pick blackberry
-with the other girls, an’ <i>she</i> said”&mdash;</p>
-
-<p>“What?”</p>
-
-<p>“Yes, if they don’t pro<i>ject</i>.”</p>
-
-<p>Both girls laughed, for Ef May was famous for her
-conversational blunders, and good-natured Lotty
-whispered under the shelter of her sunbonnet:</p>
-
-<p>“Let her go, she won’t do any harm.”</p>
-
-<p>“Yes she will. She’ll hear every single word we
-say and tell Gus of it just as quick as she gets home.
-<i>I</i> know her, of old.”</p>
-
-<p>Poor Anne had had bitter experiences of her little
-sister’s quickness of hearing and equal quickness in
-repeating whatever she had heard, and she was far
-too shrewd to trust her on this occasion. But how to
-get rid of the dear little nuisance&mdash;ah, that was the
-rub!</p>
-
-<p>“May,” she whispered mysteriously, and Ef May
-pricked up her ears and looked curious. “If you’ll
-go home now, like a good girl, you shall (put your
-ear closer, so Lotty won’t hear) go to <i>Mrs. White’s
-party</i>, to-night.”</p>
-
-<p>Ef May had often heard older people talk about
-parties, and in her inquisitive little soul she had
-longed many a time, to know more about them, and
-especially to see with her own eyes what they were like;
-and now she stood with her great blue eyes wide open
-like a pair of very early morning glories, and a little
-flush of excitement deepened the roses on her plump
-cheeks, as Anne continued in her most seductive
-tones:</p>
-
-<p>“Now, run right along, there’s a darling! and I’ll
-get you ready, my own self, and see that you have
-a”&mdash;</p>
-
-<p>“Rockaway?” suggested Lotty, in a voice that
-sounded suspiciously hoarse, to which Anne replied,
-with an air of lofty disdain that,&mdash;</p>
-
-<p>“Ef May had outgrown such babyish ways long
-ago, and would go to the party as other folks did.”</p>
-
-<p>Ef May was a very old bird for one of her age, and
-this “chaff” between the two girls did strike her as a
-little suspicious. Perhaps there was some hidden
-flaw in this magnificent offer, and jerking her little
-yellow curly head one side like a shrewd canary, she
-fixed one round, bright eye full upon her sister’s face
-as she asked solemnly:</p>
-
-<p>“Now, Anne Marsh,&mdash;‘honest an’ true, black an’
-blue,’ can I go to Mrs. White’s party, this very
-night?”</p>
-
-<p>“Yes, you shall, if I have to go with you myself.”</p>
-
-<p>Ef May was satisfied; even Lotty’s half suppressed
-giggle passed unobserved, and her face shone with
-happy anticipation as turning her chubby feet homeward
-she smiled her parting salutation:</p>
-
-<p>“Good-by,&mdash;I’ll go home an’ <i>’repair</i> myself for
-the party.”</p>
-
-<p>The girls laughed, but Lotty said rather regretfully:</p>
-
-<p>“It was kinder too bad to <i>fool</i> the little thing so.
-What will you say to her when night comes?”</p>
-
-<p>“Oh, I’ll coax her up, somehow&mdash;make her doll
-a new hat, maybe.”</p>
-
-<p>And thus dismissing poor Ef May and her forthcoming
-disappointment from their minds the two girls
-walked gaily on, laughing and chatting in their
-pleasant school-girl fashion, as they gathered the rich
-purple berries, heedless of scratched hands and
-stained finger tips, while they listened to the partridge
-drumming in the cedars overhead, or the social
-chatter of that provident little householder the squirrel,
-who, perched upon some convenient bough out of
-possible reach of their longing fingers, discoursed in
-the choicest squirrel language of his way of preserving
-acorns and beechnuts by a receipt handed down from
-squirrel forefathers as far back as the days of Noah&mdash;a
-receipt that never had failed and never would.</p>
-
-<p>It was after sunset when, with full baskets and
-tired steps, they walked up the lane that led to
-Anne’s home, both starting guiltily as they caught
-sight of Ef May’s little figure seated in the doorway
-with her bowl of bread and milk and her blue eyes
-turned wistfully upon them as they came slowly up
-the clover-bordered path.</p>
-
-<p>“I was in hopes she’d be asleep,” muttered Anne
-with an uncomfortable feeling at the heart as she saw
-the joyfully significant nod with which her little sister
-greeted her, and hastily bestowing a generous handful
-of the delicious fruit upon her, she said, with an
-effort to appear natural and at ease:</p>
-
-<p>“See what a lot of nice, ripe blackberries I brought
-you!”</p>
-
-<p>The little girl smiled, but she shook her head with
-an air of happy importance.</p>
-
-<p>“I’ll put ’em away for my breakfast,” she whispered.
-“I must save my appetite for <i>to-night</i>, you
-know.”</p>
-
-<p>Anne could have cried with a relish.</p>
-
-<p>“Oh, Ef May,” she began penitently, “I’m afraid
-I’ve done wrong in telling you&mdash;”</p>
-
-<p>“Come, Anne! Come right in! Supper is waiting
-for you,” called their mother, and the confession
-was postponed until they should be alone again; but
-when that time came, and, after her usual custom
-Anne took the little one to her room to undress and
-put her to bed, the sight of the child’s happy expectant
-face forced back the words that she would have
-spoken and made her feel that she could not yet confess
-the deception.</p>
-
-<p>“You must curl my hair real pretty, now. I <i>do</i>
-wish,” with a sigh, “that mamma would let me wear
-her <i>waterwig</i>.”</p>
-
-<p>And the bright eyes shone like stars, as she thus
-gave the signal for the preparations to commence; and
-Anne obeyed, patiently brushing out the tangled locks
-and curling them one by one over her fingers, while
-she listened to the excited chatter of her little charge
-and vaguely wondered how long it would be possible
-for those dreadfully wide awake eyes to keep open.
-She was as long about her task as possible, but the
-the last curl was finished at last, and Effie asked
-eagerly:</p>
-
-<p>“What dress are you going to put on me?”</p>
-
-<p>By this time poor Anne was fairly desperate.</p>
-
-<p>“I forgot to tell you,” she said with a sudden determination
-to carry out the joke to the end, “that
-this is a queer party, something like the ‘sheet and
-pillow case balls,’ that you’ve heard of,&mdash;and everybody
-goes to this in&mdash;&mdash;in their nightgowns.”</p>
-
-<p>Ef May looked up sharply.</p>
-
-<p>“What’s that for?” she asked with a suspicious
-look at her sister’s guilty face.</p>
-
-<p>“Because&mdash;well, I guess its because its the fashion.”</p>
-
-<p>Ef May pondered the subject for a moment, and
-then her brow cleared:</p>
-
-<p>“I’ll wear my very bestest one, then, with the
-<i>tuckered out</i> yoke an’ <i>Humbug</i> trimming,” she said,
-complacently, “an’ my corals outside.”</p>
-
-<p>Anne obeyed without a word, and the little lady
-surveyed herself in the glass with a smile of intense
-satisfaction.</p>
-
-<p>“Ain’t it most time to go?” she asked, and Anne
-detecting, as she thought, just the ghost of a yawn in
-the tone, replied briskly:</p>
-
-<p>“Oh no, not for some time yet. Come and sit in
-my lap,&mdash;there lay your head on my shoulder, ea-sy,
-so as not to tumble the curls, and I’ll sing, ‘Tap, tap,
-tapping at the garden gate,’ so you won’t get tired of
-waiting you know.”</p>
-
-<div class="figcenter">
-<img src="images/fig97.jpg" alt="" />
-<p class="caption"><span class="smcap">Mrs. White’s Party.</span></p>
-</div>
-
-<p>The little girl was nothing loth to accept her sister’s
-offer, for in spite of her exertions to keep herself
-awake the heavy eyelids would droop, the curly head
-press more heavily, and the lively, chattering little
-tongue grow slower and more indistinct in its utterances
-until at last it was silent altogether; not even
-the tiniest line of blue parted the golden lashes, the
-dimples settled undisturbed into their old places
-about the rosy mouth while only the faintest breath
-of a sigh answered to Anne’s good-night kiss as she
-softly laid her precious burden down among the
-snowy pillows of her own little bed, and stole away,
-with the secret resolve in her heart that never again,
-by word or act, would she deceive the innocent little
-sister who trusted so implicitly in her truth and honor.</p>
-
-<p class="gtb">. . . . . . . .</p>
-
-<p>It <i>was</i> a funny party, and Ef May looked about
-her in astonishment as a servant in dressing gown
-and night-cap, announced in a sleepy sing-song tone:</p>
-
-<p>“Miss Ef May Marsh?”</p>
-
-<p>Mrs. White, a heavy-eyed lady in an elaborately
-embroidered and ruffled night-dress, gave her hand a
-little languid shake, and asked, in a faint, die-away
-voice:</p>
-
-<p>“How do you rest, my dear?”</p>
-
-<p>“Very well, ma’am, generally, ’cept when I eat too
-much cake for my supper.”</p>
-
-<p>At this Mrs. White nodded intelligently.</p>
-
-<p>“’S that you, Ef May?” murmured a voice at her
-elbow, and there was Tommy Bliss, his brown curls
-all in a tangle, and&mdash;oh, horrible! in a yellow flannel
-night-gown with <i>legs</i>. Such a figure as he was with
-his short body all the way of a bigness, and his little
-yellow straddling legs like an old-fashioned brass
-andiron.</p>
-
-<p>Ef May turned away and pretended not to see him,
-while she remarked with an air of kindly condescension
-to a little girl near her:</p>
-
-<p>“It’s <i>impressively</i> warm here.”</p>
-
-<p>“Kick the clo’es off, then.”</p>
-
-<p>There was a refreshing briskness in the tones that
-went straight to Ef May’s heart and she “took to” the
-stranger on the spot.</p>
-
-<p>“Who is that old gentleman with such a big tassel
-in his night-cap?”</p>
-
-<p>The little girl rubbed her eyes and looked in the
-direction indicated.</p>
-
-<p>“Oh, that’s old Dr. Opiamus. He gives all the
-babies paragoric, and the old folks laudanum, so that
-they can die and not know it.”</p>
-
-<p>Ef May shuddered. There was something in the
-idea that even to her childish fancy was horrible.</p>
-
-<p>“Don’t you want another blanket?” asked her new
-friend; but Ef May shook her head.</p>
-
-<p>“I hear some music?” she exclaimed, and just
-then began the funniest medley of sound that was ever
-heard:</p>
-
-<p>First, a low, soft, half-frightened strain as of some
-wandering night-bird calling to his mate to set her
-glow-worm lamp in the window to light him home;
-then the quick, cheery note of the cricket chimed in;
-the owl’s solemn “too-whit! too-whit! too-whoo!”
-broke in at stately intervals; and the “rain-call” of the
-loon burst forth like a wild, weird laugh in the midst
-of the softer sounds, until the dancers, who had tried
-in vain to keep time with the strange music, faltered,
-hesitated, and at last stopped entirely, and dropped
-off to sleep upon the couches and easy chairs with
-which the rooms were filled, to a low, monotonous
-march that sounded exactly like the patter of raindrops
-upon the roof.</p>
-
-<p>The costumes were a study, and Ef May who
-strange to say didn’t feel at all sleepy herself, found it
-rare fun to watch them.</p>
-
-<p>There were old ladies, who minus their false fronts,
-teeth, and spectacles, would never have been recognized
-by their most intimate friends, in “calf’s-head”
-night-caps tied tightly under their chins, short night-gowns
-with wide, crimped ruffles at neck and wrists,
-and blue flannel petticoats just short enough to show
-the felt slippers beneath; young ladies, whose wealth
-of curls, braids and puffs had many a time excited
-the admiration and envy of their less fortunate sisters,
-appeared here, looking like picked chickens, their
-luxuriant tresses packed away in a drawer, their
-flounces, and ruffles, and panniers, and overskirts, all
-safe in the closet, their jewelry and their smiles laid
-aside together, and they nodded indifferently to stately
-gentlemen in tasselled night-caps and gorgeous dressing
-gowns, or frowned aside upon the boys, who, in
-all sorts of night gear, bobbed about in the most desirable
-nooks and corners, disturbing everybody with
-their clumsy ways and sleepy drollery.</p>
-
-<p>In short, taken as a whole, a comical looking set
-they were,&mdash;and <i>so</i> stupid! Ef May felt somewhat
-hurt and a good deal offended when even her new
-friend dropped off into a doze instead of listening to
-her questions, and she was only too glad when a good
-looking young gentleman with a pen behind his ear
-and a roll of manuscript sticking out of the pocket
-of his dressing gown, walked leisurely up to her and
-began talking in a queer rambling fashion about the
-people around them.</p>
-
-<p>“What makes some of the sleepiest folks groan
-and grumble so, all the time?” asked the little girl
-curiously, and her companion laughed, a queer,
-dreamy sort of a laugh, as he replied:</p>
-
-<p>“Oh, those are the ones that came here on nightmares,&mdash;that
-sort of riding always makes people restless,
-it’s worse than a hobby for that!”</p>
-
-<p>He spoke the last words with a sudden fierceness
-that startled her, but he didn’t seem to notice her
-frightened face for he kept on talking, in that steady
-but far off tone:</p>
-
-<p>“Do you see that man there with his face all twisted
-up into a knot? That’s the head master of the Boys’
-Grammar School,&mdash;he ate toasted cheese for his supper
-and he’s having a hard night of it,&mdash;no doubt the
-<i>boys</i> will have <i>a hard time of it</i>, to-morrow.”</p>
-
-<p>Ef May thought of brother Gus’ careless scholarship,
-and trembled.</p>
-
-<p>“There’s a little girl that told a lie to her mother,&mdash;hear
-her moan and sob! She will confess her
-fault and ask to be forgiven, in the morning, I think.”</p>
-
-<p>Ef May silently took the lesson to heart.</p>
-
-<p>“Do you see that old fellow in the corner? How
-he grasps with his hands and mutters, and now he is
-trying to call ‘murder!’ He has spent all his life
-hoarding up riches, and now, sleeping or waking, he
-lives in constant terror of losing his gold that he will
-neither spend for himself or others.”</p>
-
-<p>“But here,” and the speaker pointed to a corner
-near at hand, where rolled up into a round yellow
-ball, was the figure of Johnny Staples, sound asleep
-in the velvety depths of an easy chair, his good-natured,
-honest little face, calm and peaceful, with
-not a cloud of suffering, remorse or fear to mar its
-innocent beauty.</p>
-
-<p>“But here,” he repeated, “is one who will find in
-our friend’s party the refreshment and rest that only
-health and innocence can reasonably expect.”</p>
-
-<p>Just then the company showed signs of a general
-breaking up, and the assembled guests gave such a
-loud, unanimous <i>snore</i> that Ef May started up, terrified
-half out of her senses; and pulling vigorously at
-her sleeping sister’s sleeve, she cried out with a burst
-of angry tears:</p>
-
-<p>“It’s a nasty, mean old party, any how! They
-snore, an’ talk in their sleep, an’ make up faces, an’&mdash;I
-won’t go again, <i>so</i>, there!”</p>
-
-<p>But she <i>did</i> for all that.</p>
-
-<div class="figcenter">
-<img src="images/fig98.jpg" alt="" />
-</div>
-
-
-<hr class="full x-ebookmaker-drop" />
-
-<div class="chapter">
-
-<div class="figcenter" id="c27">
-<img src="images/fig99.jpg" alt="" />
-</div>
-
-
-
-<h2 class="nobreak">QUEER CHURCH.</h2>
-</div>
-
-<hr class="r5" />
-<p class="c more">BY REV. S. W. DUFFIELD.</p>
-<hr class="r6" />
-
-<div class="figleft">
-<img src="images/fig100.jpg" alt="" />
-</div>
-
-
-<p class="drop-cap">OF course Queer Church is on
-Queer Street, in the town of
-Manoa. And all good boys and
-girls who study geography
-know just where Manoa
-ought to be.</p>
-
-<p>The Rev. Mr. Thingumbob is
-the minister, and among the
-principal attendants are Mr.
-So-and-So, Mr. What’s-his-Name,
-Mr. Jigmaree,
-Mr. You-Know-Who,
-Mrs. Grundy, Mr. Tom Collins,
-the Misses Glubberson,
-Mr. What-d’ye-Callum, that
-distinguished foreign family
-the Van Danks, Mr. William
-Patterson, Mrs. Partington,
-and Mr. Gradgrind.
-You have possibly
-heard of some of these
-persons before. Besides,
-there is quite
-a congregation, and
-there is
-also a
-very big
-number
-of little people, aged all
-the way from five to fifteen.</p>
-
-<div class="figright">
-<img src="images/fig101.jpg" alt="" />
-</div>
-
-<p>Where there are so many of them it naturally
-follows that they have a large number of things their
-own way. But probably my story would not have
-been written if a little girl called True Gravelines
-hadn’t come to town. “True” is short for Gertrude,
-which was her name.</p>
-
-<p>True had been taken from the Orphan Asylum by
-Mrs. Potiphar. And because she loved the little
-lady, Mrs. Potiphar had her taught and trained as
-her own daughter, and even Mrs. Grundy said that
-she was charming, and the Glubberson girls&mdash;who
-were old maids and not handsome&mdash;allowed that
-she would make a fine woman.</p>
-
-<p>Finally True came across the story of
-“Goody-Two-Shoes,” which that great big
-child of an Oliver Goldsmith told so sweetly,
-and she had some new ideas. One of them
-was that she would like to make some changes
-in Queer Church.</p>
-
-<p>So she got all the boys and
-girls together after school
-and proposed her plan. Now
-True was tall for her age, with
-dark eyes, and beautiful rich
-brown hair. And she wore
-lovely dresses, and <i>such</i> kid slippers,
-and <i>such</i> a splendid real gold chain with a true
-and genuine watch that ticked and kept time. So
-of course she had matters a good deal in her own
-hands.</p>
-
-<p>The “chatter meeting” (as she called it) was held
-in the summer-house that cost ten thousand dollars,
-and that stood among Mrs. Potiphar’s roses in the
-side garden back of the lawn. And it resolved to
-send a committee to wait on Mr. Thingumbob&mdash;for
-Queer Church was the only church in Manoa, and
-they all went there on Sundays.</p>
-
-<p>They weren’t a bit afraid of him&mdash;not they! He
-had lots of boys and girls of his own, and one of
-them had such rosy cheeks that he looked as though
-the angel had forgotten to bring him to the front
-door and had stuck him in the apple-tree, whence,
-when he was ready to be picked, his father had taken
-him down.</p>
-
-<p>To be sure True was the head of the delegation,
-and it started off, twenty strong, on Saturday morning.
-How the people at the Manse opened their
-eyes as the troop came in, just as grave as you please,
-and asking to be shown up to the study. Well, so
-did the minister when he saw them. He laid down
-his pen and he said: “How do you do, gentlemen
-and ladies! Pray be seated!” So they all sat down
-wherever they could, and waited for True to begin.</p>
-
-<p>“Mr. Thingumbob,” she said, “why can’t we be
-somebodies in church, too?”</p>
-
-<p>“I don’t know, my dear. Aren’t you somebodies
-now?”</p>
-
-<p>“O-dear-bless-me-no,” says True, all in a breath.</p>
-
-<p>“Well, what would you like to do?” asked Mr.
-Thingumbob.</p>
-
-<p>“Why, we’d just like to have one week all to ourselves
-in the church, and one Sunday all to ourselves,
-to have sermons, and sing hymns, and all such
-things.”</p>
-
-<p>The pastor looked very queer&mdash;just like his
-church. Now <i>that</i> had in it everything to make a
-church pleasant&mdash;but it was all for big people. Said
-he “True, I guess I’ll try it. You stay here with me
-and let the rest of these youngsters go.”</p>
-
-<p>So the black-eyed ten-year-older stayed and talked
-and planned, and then how they laughed, and then
-they talked some more and laughed some more, and
-then it was dinner-time. And away went True.</p>
-
-<p>On Sunday morning in that beautiful autumn
-weather, Mr. Thingumbob&mdash;who did pretty much as
-<i>he</i> pleased too told the church about it. All that week
-the children were to have it their own way. Nobody
-was to do anything but the children. As a special
-favor to himself he wanted to have <i>them</i> do just as
-they pleased all that week and next Sunday, and he’d
-be responsible.</p>
-
-<p>When I first heard the story I thought the children
-and he must have loved each a great deal, for him to
-make such an offer. And I guess they did.</p>
-
-<p>Let’s see. Monday was his reception evening and
-he wanted nobody to come but the children. So
-they all came, and played big people, and asked about
-his health and how he enjoyed his summer vacation,
-and talked of business, and said their children (doll-children
-you know) had the measles and the whooping-cough,
-and what luck they had in shooting (with
-a bow-gun) and how they hoped he’d call soon and
-all that. Such a time! How funny it did seem, too.</p>
-
-<p>And then there was Tuesday evening, and Mr.
-Thingumbob had a literary circle who met in the
-church parlor. So all the children went, and all the
-big people were to have stayed away&mdash;but <i>I</i> know
-some who <i>peeked</i>. And Mr. Thingumbob told them
-about the little boy, Tom Chatterton, up in St. Mary
-Radcliffe church, and the boxes with the old papers,
-and how this small chap wrote poetry and how he
-pretended to copy it from the old papers, and how
-great learned men went to words over it and some
-said ‘He did’ and some said ‘He didn’t’ and some
-called him a ‘forger’ and some called him a ‘genius,’
-and how he got tired of it all, and how he took a
-drink of arsenic and water and died when he was
-hardly grown to be a man.&mdash;For that was just what
-the big folks expected to talk about.</p>
-
-<p>And then there was Wednesday evening, and that
-was Prayer-meeting. And the big grown-up people
-all stayed away and the little folks all came. How
-they did sing! And what a pleasant talk they had
-<i>that</i> night too&mdash;about the little Boy that heard the
-doctors and asked them questions until his mother
-thought he had run away and got lost. And Mr.
-Thingumbob sat right down in the middle of them
-and they got all around him and he was the only big
-man there was there.</p>
-
-<p>And then there was Thursday night&mdash;when the
-church people used to go to their Mission Chapel
-and help the poor people to sing and pray and find
-out how they did and what they wanted. So they all
-went together&mdash;all the larger children of Queer
-church, that is&mdash;and saw the mission people. And
-True Gravelines felt so badly for a poor little girl that
-she gave her her warm gloves. And Tommy What’s-his-name
-let another fellow have his brand-new jack-knife
-because he hadn’t got any at all of his own.
-And there wasn’t one of them that didn’t give the
-Mission people pennies, or promise things to them,
-like the big folks.</p>
-
-<p>And on Friday afternoon they had a sewing-society
-and the girls came and sewed&mdash;dear, dear, what sewing
-it was!&mdash;and they brought lunch along and the
-boys came to tea, and it was just like a pic-nic. And
-Mr. Thingumbob was there too. And afterwards
-they played “Hy-Spy” in the church up-stairs, down the
-aisles and in the galleries and back of the organ&mdash;and
-True Gravelines, for real and certain, hid under
-the pulpit! And then they set back all the chairs in
-the Sunday-school room and played “Fox and Geese”
-and “Thread the Needle” and ever so many other
-things that I don’t know the names of&mdash;only I <i>do</i>
-know that they were bound to act all the while like
-gentlemen and ladies, and they surely did.</p>
-
-<p>And then came Saturday and they forgot all about being
-big men and women, and went off to play and let
-Mr. Thingumbob alone so he could <i>write</i> his sermon.
-But he said he didn’t want to write his sermon, he
-wanted to <i>talk</i> it, and he asked True what he should
-talk about. And she told him she wanted to hear about
-the little girl that was sick and died and that Some
-One took by the hand and made her well. So he
-said he would, and he promised to use real short
-weenty-teenty words&mdash;“Because” said True, “there’s
-some that’s only little bits of things and <i>they</i> won’t
-understand.”</p>
-
-<p>And then Sunday came. And all the big people
-took back seats. And all the little people went in to
-play big people, and opened their bibles and their
-hymn-books, and stood up, and sat down, and sang, and
-leaned their heads forward in prayer-time, and did
-just what they saw their papas and mammas do.
-And one boy, Peter Gradgrind, he went to sleep, because
-he said that was the way his father did. And
-Mr. Thingumbob laughed when he heard that.</p>
-
-<p>And that was a real short service. It was all there,
-every bit of it. But the sermon was only a quarter
-of an hour long and all the rest was in the same proportion.</p>
-
-<p>When it came time for Sunday school they all
-went. And the biggest one in each class taught the
-others. And by this time they had all got to be so good
-that they were trying to be big folks in earnest. And
-there was Tom Collins Jr. for Superintendent and <i>he</i>
-tried his best. And True played the tunes on the
-cabinet organ. And you never did see how well it
-all went!</p>
-
-<p>Weren’t they tired when night came! But out they
-came again&mdash;that is the bigger ones did&mdash;and then
-Mr. Thingumbob talked to them about growing to
-be men and women. It was a little sermon in short
-words, but I don’t think they will forget it&mdash;for it
-was about a Boy who did what his father and mother
-wanted him to do, who learned his father’s business
-and worked to help the family along, who always did
-good to others, who tried to be a boy and yet to do
-like grown-up folks all the while. And by this time
-all the boys and girls knew how it seemed to play at
-big people, and make calls, and hear sermons, and do
-good.</p>
-
-<p>Then, they all went to bed and slept like tops.</p>
-
-<p>And they talk there to this day about it. And isn’t
-it funny?&mdash;the Queer Church people actually have
-fixed some of the seats in front low enough for the
-little folks, and they are very proud to see them sitting
-there like small men and women. And every
-now and then Queer Church has a sermon in short
-words, and a prayer-meeting where the children
-swarm on Mr. Thingumbob’s chair, and a sewing-club
-of little girls&mdash;O, and ever so many strange nice
-things for children, that came of that week of playing
-at big people.</p>
-
-<p>And when you ask the folks there “What does
-Mrs. Grundy say?” and “How does Mr. Gradgrind
-take it?” what do you think they answer?</p>
-
-<p>Why, they just say “We don’t care. We want the
-children to grow up to love the church and to love
-things that are good.”</p>
-
-<p>Wouldn’t you like to go to Queer Church and
-make a week of it?</p>
-<hr class="full x-ebookmaker-drop" />
-
-<div class="chapter">
-
-
-<h2 class="nobreak" id="c28">THE FUN-AND-FROLIC ART SCHOOL.</h2>
-</div>
-
-<hr class="r5" />
-<p class="c more">BY STANLEY WOOD.</p>
-<hr class="r6" />
-
-
-
-
-<p class="drop-cap">COUSIN JOE had been sitting half asleep over a
-book in the library, when all at once the door
-opened just a little and a row of eyes peeped in at
-him, the eyes beginning somewhere near the top of
-the door and ending pretty close to the bottom.
-There were just five of these eyes; the one nearest
-the top being large and of a lovely soft brown color,
-the next one gray, the next one brown, the next blue,
-and the last one away down towards the bottom, a
-mischievous brown.</p>
-
-<p>“Peep!” said a voice, which matched the mischievous
-brown eye, and a fat little hand was thrust
-in through the crack.</p>
-
-<p>“May we come in?” asked a soft voice, which
-sounded near the top of the door.</p>
-
-<p>“Certainly,” said Joe, shutting his book and trying
-to look as though he had not been half asleep over it.
-The door opened, and the cousins marched in. First
-came Bryant, a chubby five-year-old, with sturdy legs,
-a large head, yellow hair and brown eyes full of mischief,
-next to him Leefee, seven years old, slight of
-figure, a little lady with light hair and sky-blue eyes;
-then Adale, ten years old, her brown hair flying and
-her brown eyes dancing; after her Maud, only fourteen,
-but quite a young lady for all that, with serious
-gray eyes, and last of all, Cora, a slender young
-woman of seventeen with soft brown hair and eyes.</p>
-
-<p>“Ladies and gentleman,” said cousin Joe, when
-they all stood before him, “to what do I owe the
-honor of this visit?”</p>
-
-<p>“Your Royal Highness,” replied Maud, who had
-read one of Sir Walter Scott’s novels, “we have a
-humble petition to present, in which&mdash;”</p>
-
-<p>“My top’s broked,” interrupted Bryant, suddenly.</p>
-
-<p>“And we want you to tell us a story,” said Adale
-with eagerness.</p>
-
-<p>“Have you learned your lessons, Adale?” asked
-cousin Joe, very solemnly.</p>
-
-<p>“Oh yes, indeed.”</p>
-
-<p>“Where is Terra del Fuego?”</p>
-
-<p>“But cousin, I study geography only five days in
-the week; you can’t expect me to know where Terra
-del Fuego is on Saturday.”</p>
-
-<p>“Really, I hadn’t thought of that.”</p>
-
-<p>“And you’ll tell us a story?” said Leefee.</p>
-
-<p>“One we haven’t heard before,” suggested Adale.</p>
-
-<p>“My top’s broked,” said Bryant with much emphasis.</p>
-
-<p>“Friends,” said cousin Joe, “the demand for new
-stories is in great excess of the supply. When I
-finished telling you my last story, Adale there remarked
-that she had read that story in <span class="smcap">Wide Awake</span>.
-Now there’s a moral in that remark of Adale’s, for
-when my friends and fellow-citizens have grown old
-enough to read stories they are too old for me to tell
-them to.”</p>
-
-<p>“Oh, cousin!”</p>
-
-<p>“But, I’ll compromise with you; instead of a story
-I’ll give you a drawing-lesson.”</p>
-
-<p>“I get drawing-lessons enough at school,” said
-Adale.</p>
-
-<p>“I didn’t know you could draw, cousin Joe,” said
-Clara.</p>
-
-<p>“I can’t; and that’s the beauty of my system.
-The teacher doesn’t need to know anything about
-drawing, and the students never learn anything.”</p>
-
-<p>“How absurd!” said Cora.</p>
-
-<p>“How curious!” said Maud.</p>
-
-<p>“How pleasant!” said Adale.</p>
-
-<p>“How funny!” said Leefee.</p>
-
-<p>“My top’s broked,” said Bryant.</p>
-
-<p>“The class will come to order,” said cousin Joe.</p>
-
-<p>Then they all gathered around the library-table,
-and each one was provided with a pencil and a bit of
-paper.</p>
-
-<p>“Students of the Fun-and-Frolic Art School,” said
-Joe, “we have met for mutual deterioration in art.
-As you all ought to know, but no doubt many of you
-do not, Sir Edward Landseer was a great artist in
-dogs, Rosa Bonheur is a great artist in horses and
-kine, but we unitedly will be great artists in&mdash;pigs.”</p>
-
-<p>“Pigs?”</p>
-
-<p>“Yes, ladies and gentleman, I repeat it&mdash;PIGS!
-Is there anyone in the class who can draw a pig?”</p>
-
-<p>“I can draw one, such as the boys draw on their
-slates at school,” said Adale.</p>
-
-<p>“Please draw one then,” said cousin Joe. In a
-moment Adale had accomplished the task and handed
-him the result.</p>
-
-<p>“This,” said Joe, as he held it up in view of the
-class, “this is</p>
-
-<div class="figcenter">
-<img src="images/fig102.jpg" alt="" />
-<p class="caption">THE CONVENTIONAL PIG.</p>
-</div>
-
-<p>“You see it doesn’t look like a pig, but every boy
-knows it is intended to represent a pig. If it looked
-a good deal more like a pig he might not recognize it.
-Thus conventional politeness does not resemble real
-politeness, yet everybody knows what it is intended to
-represent. There is a moral in that remark somewhere&mdash;if
-you can find it&mdash;and now we’ll go on with
-the lesson. The first thing you must do in order to
-become an artist in my school is to <i>shut your eyes</i>.”</p>
-
-<p>“Shut our eyes!”</p>
-
-<p>“Why, cousin,” said Cora, “I thought all artists
-had to keep their eyes especially wide open.”</p>
-
-<p>“There are some who do not,” said cousin Joe,
-sententiously.</p>
-
-<p>“I’ve seen people shut <i>one</i> eye and look at pictures
-through their hand with the other&mdash;so,” said Adale,
-making a fist of her little hand and peeping through
-it.</p>
-
-<p>“Those people were <i>connoisseurs</i>,” said Joe; “we
-are artists and must shut <i>both</i> eyes, Cora; will you
-begin? Shut your eyes, place your pencil on the
-paper, and draw the outlines of a pig as nearly as you
-can.”</p>
-
-<p>“But, cousin Joe, isn’t this a play for little
-girls, not for&mdash;well&mdash;proper young ladies?”</p>
-
-<p>“Very well, Miss Cora; we’ll begin with Leefee
-then.”</p>
-
-<p>Little Miss Leefee seized her pencil eagerly, and
-shutting her eyes uncommonly close, drew this:</p>
-
-<div class="figcenter">
-<img src="images/fig103.jpg" alt="" />
-<p class="caption">THIS IS A PIG.</p>
-</div>
-
-<p>How the rest did laugh at poor Leefee!</p>
-
-<p>“You’ll have to write under it, ‘This is a pig,’”
-said Adale.</p>
-
-<p>“And I will do it too,” said Leefee, and she did
-so, as you can see by the picture.</p>
-
-<p>“It’s your turn now, Adale,” said Joe.</p>
-
-<p>“This will be a conventional pig, like my other
-one,” said Adale, laughing as she shut her eyes.
-When she had finished her drawing, all confessed,
-amidst great laughter, that it was not at all a “conventional
-pig;” so Adale wrote under her production:</p>
-
-<div class="figcenter">
-<img src="images/fig104.jpg" alt="" />
-<p class="caption">“THIS IS AN UNCONVENTIONAL PIG.”</p>
-</div>
-
-<p>“It looks more like a tapir than a pig,” said Leefee,
-mindful of Adale’s criticism on her effort.</p>
-
-<p>“Well, isn’t a tapir a kind of unconventional pig?”
-replied the artist.</p>
-
-<p>“Your pigs are all too long,” said Maud; “you
-don’t make them fat enough.”</p>
-
-<p>“You can be guided by your own criticism, for you
-come next after Adale,” said cousin Joe, merrily.</p>
-
-<p>Maud drew her pig with great care. “There!”
-said she, as she displayed the result of her labors,
-“what do you think of that?”</p>
-
-<div class="figcenter">
-<img src="images/fig105.jpg" alt="" />
-<p class="caption">MAUD’S FAT PIG.</p>
-</div>
-
-<p>“Oh what a funny rabbit!” exclaimed Adale.</p>
-
-<p>“It’s more like a rat,” said Leefee.</p>
-
-<p>“It <i>must</i> be a pig,” said Maud firmly, “I’m drawing
-pigs.”</p>
-
-<p>In the mean time Miss Cora, who had declined
-to enter into such childish sport, had been closely
-observed by Adale. Suddenly that versatile young
-lady seized Cora’s paper before she could prevent it,
-and exclaiming with a triumphant flourish, “Cora’s
-pig! Oh, <i>do</i> look at Cora’s pig!” she displayed this:</p>
-
-<div class="figcenter">
-<img src="images/fig106.jpg" alt="" />
-<p class="caption">CORA’S FEROCIOUS PIG.</p>
-</div>
-
-<p>Cora blushingly acknowledged that she had been
-induced by the enthusiasm of the others to try and
-improve on their efforts.</p>
-
-<p>“What a fierce-looking quadruped,” said Maud.</p>
-
-<p>“Yes; I have called it my ferocious pig,” replied
-Cora, evidently greatly enjoying her production.</p>
-
-<p>“Ladies and gentleman of the Fun-and-frolic Art
-School,” said cousin Joe, oratorically, “your incapacity
-has exceeded my highest expectations. Your efforts
-to draw the lineaments of the domestic animal known
-as the pig having exceeded in grotesqueness and
-falseness to nature the efforts of many more experienced
-artists, I am naturally very much gratified. I
-now have the honor to announce to you that ‘school’s
-out.’”</p>
-
-<p>“Oh not yet, cousin.”</p>
-
-<p>“Not yet?”</p>
-
-<p>“No; <i>you</i> must draw a pig,” said Maud.</p>
-
-<p>“You must draw a pig,” said Adale.</p>
-
-<p>“You must draw a pig,” said Leefee.</p>
-
-<p>“My top’s broked,” said Bryant.</p>
-
-<p>“Necessity knows no law,” said cousin Joe.</p>
-
-<p>“Bring me my pencil now, my hand feels skilful,
-and the shadows lift from my waked spirit airily and
-swift,” and with an air of vast importance he began
-to execute his task. The little cousins were so fearful
-that he would take a sly peep at his work, that
-they blindfolded him, and his production was received
-with shouts of laughter. When they took off his
-muffler he saw this:</p>
-
-<div class="figcenter">
-<img src="images/fig107.jpg" alt="" />
-<p class="caption">THE ACEPHALOUS OR ONE-EYED PIG.</p>
-</div>
-
-<p>“<i>Oh</i> what a bad pig,” said Cora.</p>
-
-<p>“Oh <i>what</i> a bad pig,” said Maud.</p>
-
-<p>“Oh what a <i>bad</i> pig,” said Adale.</p>
-
-<p>“Oh what a bad <i>pig</i>,” said Leefee.</p>
-
-<p>“My top&mdash;”</p>
-
-<p>“Shall be mended,” said cousin Joe, taking little
-Bryant upon his knee.</p>
-<hr class="full x-ebookmaker-drop" />
-
-<div class="chapter">
-
-
-<h2 class="nobreak" id="c29">SOME QUAKER BOYS OF 1776.</h2>
-</div>
-
-<hr class="r5" />
-<p class="c more">BY C. H. WOODMAN.</p>
-<hr class="r6" />
-
-
-
-
-<p class="drop-cap">IN 1776, the eastern end of Long Island was over-run
-with the English troops and mercenaries.
-There was no security to life or property: everything
-was at the mercy of the wicked Hessians.</p>
-
-<p>At this time there was living on the island, and not
-far from New York, a Quaker by the name of Pattison.
-Henry Pattison, the father, was one
-of the strictest of the sect; of a noble, generous
-nature, a kind neighbor, and a wise
-councilor. He was universally loved and
-revered. He won the name of the Peace-Maker.</p>
-
-<p>He owned a fine farm, and was growing
-wealthy, when the war came and sad days
-settled down upon the community.</p>
-
-<p>Mother Pattison was the true type of the
-Quaker wife and mother. Under her tidy
-white cap beamed the placid, tender face
-which is so common among these pure-hearted
-people, and her skillful advice and
-winning words of consolation were often
-heard in the house of the sick and afflicted.
-Eight sturdy boys, and one little sweet,
-timid flower of a daughter, blessed this
-good couple, and made their home one of
-happiness and love.</p>
-
-<p>Edmund, the oldest son, was a handsome,
-manly lad of eighteen. Beneath his broad-brimmed
-hat, his quiet “thee” and “thou,” beat a
-fiery and fearless heart that often broke through the
-mild Quaker training and made him, notwithstanding
-his peace principles, a leader among his fellows.</p>
-
-<p>One day, as he sat in the barn, quietly enjoying his
-noonday rest, a British trooper rode up to the door.
-Seeing Edmund he shouted:</p>
-
-<p>“Come, youngster, make haste and stir yourself.
-Go and help my driver there unload that cart of timber
-into the road!”</p>
-
-<p>Now Edmund had just been hard at work loading
-that wood, to carry it to a neighbor to whom it was sold.</p>
-
-<p>Both wagon and oxen belonged to his father.</p>
-
-<p>“Come, hurry!” said the horseman.</p>
-
-<p>“I shall not do it!” said Edmund.</p>
-
-<p>“What&mdash;sirrah!” cried the ruffian, “we shall see
-who will do it!” and he flourished his sword over the
-boy’s head, swearing and threatening to cut him down
-unless he instantly obeyed.</p>
-
-<div class="figright">
-<img src="images/fig108.jpg" alt="" />
-<p class="caption">“<span class="smcap">Seeking for some firm spot of entrance</span>”&mdash;PAGE 82.</p>
-</div>
-
-<p>Edmund stood unflinchingly, fiercely eyeing the
-enraged soldier.</p>
-
-<p>Just then a little boy, Charles, the son of a neighbor,
-ran into the house and told Mrs. Pattison that “a
-Britisher was going to kill her Edmund.” She rushed
-to the barn, begged the soldier to stop, pleaded with
-her son to unload the wood and so save his life.</p>
-
-<p>“No fear of death, mother; he dare not touch a
-hair of my head.”</p>
-
-<p>“Dare not!” The horseman flourished his sword
-before the lad’s face and swore he would kill him
-instantly.</p>
-
-<p>“You dare not!” said Edmund firmly; “and I will
-report you to your master for this.”</p>
-
-<p>The fierce and defiant look really awed the trooper,
-and he mounted his horse, although he still told
-the boy he would “cut him into inch pieces.”</p>
-
-<p>Edmund knew that such things were actually done
-by the soldiers, and he appreciated the man’s terrible
-rage. He coolly walked across the barn-floor, and
-armed himself with a huge pitchfork.</p>
-
-<p>“You cowardly rascal!”&mdash;the boy’s words came
-fierce and sharp. “Now take one step towards this
-floor, and I stab you with my pitchfork.”</p>
-
-<p>The gentle Mrs. Pattison expected to see her boy
-at once shot down like a dog. She ran to the house,
-and, meeting her husband, sent him to the rescue.</p>
-
-<p>Friend Pattison rode hastily up, and said calmly to
-the trooper:</p>
-
-<p>“You have no right to lay a finger upon that boy,
-who is a non-combatant.”</p>
-
-<p>The man did not move.</p>
-
-<p>Then Farmer Pattison turned toward the road, saying
-he would ride and call Col. Wurms, who commanded
-the troops.</p>
-
-<p>Upon this the horseman, thinking it best for him to
-see his master first, drove the spurs into his horse and
-galloped away, uttering vows of vengeance.</p>
-
-<p>The little boy who had alarmed Mrs. Pattison was
-a lad of fourteen,&mdash;the son of a neighbor who was in
-Washington’s army.</p>
-
-<p>Sitting one day under the trees, with the little Pattisons,
-talking indignantly of the “British thieves,” he
-saw a light-horseman ride up toward a farm-house
-just across the pond. He guessed at once what the
-man was after. He tried to signal the farmer, but in
-vain.</p>
-
-<p>“They are pressing horses,” cried Charlie; “they
-always ride that way when stealing horses.”</p>
-
-<p>He thought of his father’s beautiful colt, his own pet.</p>
-
-<p>“Fleetwood shall not go!” said he.</p>
-
-<p>Running as fast as he could to the barn, he leaped
-on to his back, and started for the woods.</p>
-
-<p>The red-coat saw him, and, putting his spurs into
-his horse, rising in the saddle and shouting, he tore
-down the road at headlong speed.</p>
-
-<p>Charlie’s mother rushed to the door. She saw her
-little son galloping towards the woods with his murderous
-enemy close upon his heels. Her heart beat
-fearfully, and she gave one great cry of prayer as her
-brave little boy dashed into the thick woods, and out
-of sight, still hotly pursued by the soldier.</p>
-
-<p>The trees were close-set and the branches low.
-Charlie laid down along the horse’s neck to escape
-being swept off. He cheered on, with low cries, the
-wild colt, who stretched himself full length at every
-leap.</p>
-
-<p>With streaming mane, glaring eyes, distended nostrils,
-he plunged onward. Charlie heard the dead
-dry boughs crackling behind, and the snorting of the
-soldier’s horse, so near was his fierce pursuer. On, on
-Fleetwood dashed, bearing his little master from one
-piece of woods to another, till the forest became
-dense and dark. He had now gained some on the
-soldier; and, seeing ahead a tangled, marshy thicket,
-Charlie rode right into its midst.</p>
-
-<p>Here he stood five hours without moving.</p>
-
-<p>The soldier, so much heavier with his horse, dared
-not venture into the swamp. He rode round and
-round, seeking for some firm spot of entrance. Sometimes
-he did come very near; but every time sinking
-into the wet, springy bog he was obliged to give it
-up; he could not even get a shot at the boy, the brush
-was so thick, Fleetwood instinctively still as a mouse,
-and finally, with loud oaths, he rode off.</p>
-
-<p>But the lad and the colt still stood there hour after
-hour, not knowing whether they might venture out;
-but at nightfall his mother, who had been watching all
-the while, with tears and prayers, saw her dear boy
-cautiously peeping through the edge of the woods. By
-signs she let him know that the danger was past, and,
-riding up to the house, he dismounted. Then, leaning
-against his beautiful colt, his own bright, golden curls
-mingling with Fleetwood’s ebon mane, the plucky
-little fellow told his adventures to the eager group.</p>
-
-<p>The Quaker neighbors in this vicinity had at last
-been driven, by the outrages of the hostile troops, to
-use some means of defense. They agreed that, whenever
-a house should be attacked, the family would fire
-a gun, which would be answered by firing from other
-houses, and so the neighborhood become aroused.</p>
-
-<p>But Farmer Pattison so abhorred the use of a gun
-that he would have none in his house. He procured
-a conch-shell which, when well blown, could be heard
-a great way.</p>
-
-<p>One night, while Charlie’s family were all soundly
-sleeping, and, without, the clear November air was unstirred
-by a breath of wind, suddenly the grum report
-of the conch boomed in at the windows and alarmed
-the whole house.</p>
-
-<div class="figcenter">
-<img src="images/fig109.jpg" alt="" />
-</div>
-
-<p>Wakened so unceremoniously, all thought it was a
-gun; but no one could tell whence it came. The venerable
-grandfather knelt in prayer; the sick English
-officer, staring at the house, ordered his two guards to
-prepare for defence; the mother sat trembling, while
-the two little girls, Grace and Marcia, hid their faces
-in their mother’s night-dress.</p>
-
-<p>But our Charlie was brave. He loaded the old firearm,
-and, going down to the piazza blazed away, loading
-and firing, to frighten away the unseen foe. Through
-the still air could be heard the guns of the neighbors,
-all aroused to defend their homes.</p>
-
-<p>But no burning building could be seen, nor were
-there any shouts or noises of conflict.</p>
-
-<p>The alarm subsided, but for the rest of the night
-the little family sat anxious and waited for the dawn.
-In the morning they learned the cause of the alarm.
-It seems that at noon, the day before, the Pattison
-boys were trying their lungs on the conch, calling the
-hired men to dinner.</p>
-
-<p>Little Joseph stood by, waiting his turn, but it
-didn’t come. Dinner was ready, and the shell was
-put away on the shelf over the kitchen door. The
-little fellow’s disappointment was great, and that night
-he dreamed of robbers, of English soldiers and burning
-houses. He dreamed that he must blow the shell.</p>
-
-<p>Up he jumped, ran down stairs, and through two
-rooms, still asleep, and, standing in a chair, got the
-conch from the shelf. Going to the back door he
-blew it lustily, and aroused the whole family. They
-rushed down-stairs in great alarm, and there stood the
-little boy, bareheaded and in his nightgown, while
-great drops of perspiration stood on his face, from the
-exertions he had made!</p>
-<hr class="full x-ebookmaker-drop" />
-
-<div class="chapter">
-
-
-<h2 class="nobreak" id="c30">WHAT I HEARD ON THE STREET.</h2>
-</div>
-
-<hr class="r5" />
-<p class="c more">BY CLARA F. GUERNSEY.</p>
-<hr class="r6" />
-
-
-
-
-<p class="drop-cap">NOT long ago, while I was waiting for the cars at
-a street corner, I heard two men talking together.
-The one was a young fellow of nineteen or
-so, a big, tall youth, whose appearance would have
-been pleasing had he not worn, in addition to a general
-air of discouragement, that look of being on the
-down-hill road, which, once seen, is unmistakable.</p>
-
-<p>His clothes were sufficiently good in quality, but
-they seemed never to have known the clothes-brush,
-his coat lacked four or five buttons, for which three
-pins were a very inadequate substitute, and he had an
-aspect generally of having forgotten the use of soap
-and water.</p>
-
-<p>Perhaps all this might not have been his fault. It
-is possible he had no womankind belonging to him,
-though I don’t hold that an excuse for missing buttons,
-and his work might have been such as bred fluffiness
-and griminess, but no man’s work obliges him to
-slouch when off duty, to keep his hands in his pockets,
-or tilt his hat on one side.</p>
-
-<p>The other man was a brisk, middle-aged person,
-whom I take to have been a worker in iron in one way
-or another. He had on his working-dress, and his
-hands were black, but the blackness in his case was
-a mere outside necessity, and went no farther than the
-surface. He looked bright and sensible, and it was in
-a pleasant voice that he asked the younger man:</p>
-
-<p>“Well, Jim, got a place?”</p>
-
-<p>Jim gave a weary, discouraged sigh, and shifted
-from one foot to the other.</p>
-
-<p>“Yes, I’m in Blank’s, but I might as well not be.”</p>
-
-<p>“Why?”</p>
-
-<p>“Oh,” returned Jim, in a forlorn manner, “what’s
-the use? I work all the week, and when Saturday
-night comes, there’s just five dollars. What’s that?
-Why, it’s <i>just nothing</i>.”</p>
-
-<p>“No, it ain’t,” replied the senior, laying a kindly
-hand on the other’s shoulder. “It’s <i>just five dollars
-better than nothing</i>. Put it that way, Jim.”</p>
-
-<p>“Well, now, that’s so,” said Jim, brightening up
-wonderfully after a minute’s thought. “It does make
-it seem different, don’t it?” And he walked off, apparently
-much comforted.</p>
-
-<p>If you think of it, Reader, you will see that the
-difference between five dollars and nothing is infinitely
-greater than that between five and five thousand.</p>
-<hr class="full x-ebookmaker-drop" />
-
-<div class="chapter">
-
-<div class="figcenter" id="c31">
-<img src="images/fig110.jpg" alt="" />
-</div>
-
-
-<h2 class="nobreak">KIP’S MINISTER.</h2>
-</div>
-
-
-<hr class="r5" />
-<p class="c more">BY KATE W. HAMILTON.</p>
-<hr class="r6" />
-
-
-
-
-<p class="drop-cap"><i>JACK and Jill went up the hill</i>,’” piped Bud’s
-shrill voice from the hayloft in the barn where
-she was hunting eggs. “‘<i>To fetch a pail of water.
-Jack fell down and broke his crown, And Jill</i>&mdash;&mdash;’”</p>
-
-<p>If Bud’s own name had been Jill she could not
-have come “tumbling after,” any more speedily than
-she did. A board tilted, her foot slipped, and in a
-moment she was sitting on the floor below. Fortunately
-a quantity of hay had fallen with her, so
-there was no broken crown or other crushed bones;
-but her dignity was considerably jarred, and glancing
-around to see whether any one had witnessed the
-mishap, she discovered Kip looking out toward the
-road from a door at the farther end of the building.</p>
-
-<p>“Kip Crail! what makes you stand there for?”
-she demanded, severely.</p>
-
-<p>“I’m a-watching my minister,” answered Kip
-slowly.</p>
-
-<p>It is not every boy who owns a minister all by himself,
-but Kip spoke as if nobody else had any claim
-upon this one; and as he seemed to have noticed
-neither her tone nor her downfall, Bud regained her
-chubby feet, shook the hay from her yellow curls,
-and going to Kip’s side looked curiously after the
-slightly grey-haired man, in clothing somewhat worn,
-who was quietly picking his way along the road.
-Her blue eyes discerned nothing remarkable, and she
-turned away disappointed.</p>
-
-<p>“Ho! Why he’s everybody’s minister; he a’n’t
-yours.”</p>
-
-<p>Kip knew better than that. Did not he remember
-who always knew him, and stopped to shake hands
-and say “How do you do, Christopher?”&mdash;a name
-that made him feel nearly as big as anybody. And
-who always asked after his mother? And did not
-forget when he told him little Bob was sick? The
-people in the house hitched up their sleek horses and
-nice carriage, and drove two miles to the city church
-every Sunday; but Kip, with freckled face shining
-from soap, head wet and combed till not a hair could
-stir from its place, and red hands thrust into his
-pockets, trudged whistling over the hill to the little
-frame church where most of the people from
-the straggling villages and the neighboring farms
-gathered.</p>
-
-<p>“So he is my minister,” said Kip stoutly as he
-considered the matter.</p>
-
-<p>He would have liked to share the honor that day,
-however, with the inmates of the large comfortable
-farm-house; for they were really the most prosperous
-family in the village, while he, only a distant relative,
-was “chore boy and gener’ly useful” as he phrased
-it. And there was to be a “donation party” at his
-minister’s home that very evening.</p>
-
-<p>“If they’d just give something handsome!” he
-said to Nancy the “hired girl,” who was busy in the
-kitchen.</p>
-
-<p>“They won’t never think of it no more’n they will
-of flyin’,” replied Nancy, dextrously turning a flapjack,
-and the subject also, by requesting Kip to “run for
-an armful of wood.”</p>
-
-<p>Somebody always wanted wood or water, or something
-from the cellar, or something from the attic,
-whenever Kip was in sight. But he scarcely thought
-of the constant calls that morning, so full was he of
-other thoughts. Nancy might dispose of the question
-carelessly, but he could not. He was connected
-with the house, and he felt that the honor of the
-house was involved. Beside, he wanted his minister
-well treated and he knew&mdash;few knew better than Kip&mdash;how
-sorely the “something handsome” was needed
-in the shabby little parsonage. He did not mean
-they should “never think of it” as Nancy had said!
-he would remind them by bringing up the subject
-naturally and innocently in some way.</p>
-
-<p>So he lingered in the room a few minutes after
-breakfast, while Mrs. Mitchel was gathering up the
-dishes, and Mr. Mitchel consulting the almanac. He
-coughed once or twice, and then, staring straight out
-of the window, observed as follows:</p>
-
-<p>“There goes our big rooster! He’s most as big as
-a turkey, a’n’t he, Aunt Ann? Turkeys always make
-me think of Thanksgivings, Christmases, Donations
-and such things&mdash;oh yes! there <i>is</i> going to be a
-donation down to the minister’s to-night!”</p>
-
-<p>Kip considered that very delicately and neatly
-done!</p>
-
-<p>“Eh? what?” said Mrs. Mitchel, paying no attention
-except to the last sentence.</p>
-
-<p>“Who’s going to have a donation?”</p>
-
-<p>“Down to the minister’s,” repeated Kip. “Everybody’ll
-take ’em things, you know&mdash;flour and potatoes
-and wood&mdash;something handsome, I hope&mdash;the folks
-that can ’ford to.”</p>
-
-<p>That was another masterly hint. Kip chuckled to
-himself at his success in managing his self-appointed
-task but his spirits sank with Mr. Mitchel’s first
-words.</p>
-
-<p>“Well, now, I don’t know as I approve of that
-way. The folks here can do as they please&mdash;it’s no
-affair of mine&mdash;but seems to me it’s better to pay a
-man a decent salary, and let him buy his own
-things.”</p>
-
-<p>“Don’t know as <i>I</i> ’prove of that way either,”
-soliloquized Kip indignantly when he found himself
-alone behind the wood-pile. “Don’t know as I
-’prove of folks giving me their old clothes,” looking
-down at his patched knees. “Seems to me ’twould
-be better to pay me decent wages and let me buy my
-own clothes. But seein’ they don’t, these trousers are
-better’n none; and I guess if Uncle Ralph had a sick
-wife and three or four children he’d think a donation
-party was a good deal better’n nothing.”</p>
-
-<p>Ideas that found their way into the brain under
-Kip’s thatch of light hair were sure to stay, and the
-cows, the chickens, and the wood-pile heard numerous
-orations that morning&mdash;all upon one subject.</p>
-
-<p>“Now if I owned all these things, do you s’pose
-I’d go off to the big city church every Sunday, and
-wouldn’t go down now and then to see what was
-a-doin’ for the poor folks round here? And when
-I went, don’t you s’pose I’d see how his coat was
-gettin’ shinier and shinier, and her cloak fadeder,
-and all the new clothes they have is their old ones
-made over? A boy don’t like that kind of dressin’-up
-partic’lar well, and how do you s’pose my minister
-feels? Don’t you b’lieve I’d know when she got sick,
-how the bundles from the grocery-store was smaller
-and fewer ’count of the bottles that had to be paid for
-and the doctor’s bill? And wouldn’t I hear the tremble
-in his voice when he prays for them that has ‘heavy
-burdens to carry?’ Just wait till I’m a man and
-see!”</p>
-
-<p>Old Brindle looked at him meditatively, and one
-pert little bantam mounted the fence and crowed
-with enthusiasm, but no member of the barn-yard
-offered any suggestions; and going to a little nook
-behind the manger, Kip drew forth his own offering
-for the important evening&mdash;a little bracket-shelf,
-clumsily designed and roughly whittled out, but
-nevertheless the work of many a precious half-hour.
-He looked at it rather doubtfully. It did not altogether
-satisfy even his limited conceptions of
-beauty.</p>
-
-<p>“But then if you keep it kind of in the shade, and
-look at it sort o’sideways&mdash;so&mdash;it does pretty well,”
-he said, scrutinizing it with one eye closed. “I guess
-Mis’ Clay will, seein’ she’s had to look sharp for the
-best side o’things so long.”</p>
-
-<p>But how he did wish the others would send something&mdash;“something
-that would count,” as he said.
-He was down on the ground gathering up a basketful
-of chips when one of the well-kept horses and the
-light wagon passed out of the yard and down the lane
-bearing Mr. Mitchel away to the town. A host of
-brilliant possibilities suddenly trooped through Kip’s
-thoughts as he watched the vehicle out of sight. His
-wish grew into something deeper and stronger.</p>
-
-<p>“Oh please <i>do</i> make him think and bring back
-something nice for them!” he murmured.</p>
-
-<p>Bud, who had a fashion of appearing in the most
-unexpected times and places, looked at him wonderingly
-from around a corner of the wood-pile.</p>
-
-<p>“What makes you do that for?” she asked
-solemnly.</p>
-
-<p>“’Cause,” answered Kip briefly, with a flush rising
-to his freckled cheeks. “I don’t care,” he whispered
-to himself. “The minister’s folks are good and care
-for other folks, and it’s ’bout time somebody was takin’
-care of them.”</p>
-
-<p>Bud did not quite accept the lucid explanation
-given her. She seated herself on a log and pondered
-the subject until she reached a conclusion that she
-considered satisfactory; and after that, though she
-said nothing about it, she watched quite as eagerly
-and much more expectantly for her father’s return
-than did Kip.</p>
-
-<p>There certainly was something new and unusual in
-the light wagon when at last it drove up to the door
-again. Both children discovered that at once&mdash;Bud
-from the window, Kip from the piazza&mdash;a great,
-easy, luxurious arm-chair. Mr. Mitchel lifted it out
-and carried it into the house.</p>
-
-<p>“See here! What do you think of that?” he said
-to his wife triumphantly. “I happened into a furniture
-store where they were auctioning everything off
-and I got this at such a bargain that I took it in a
-hurry. Isn’t that as comfortable a chair as you ever
-saw? Just try it.”</p>
-
-<p>Mrs. Mitchel examined and admired; Nancy who
-came to the kitchen door exclaimed and interjected;
-and the household generally bestowed such unqualified
-commendation that Mr. Mitchel’s gratification
-increased.</p>
-
-<p>“I think I know a good thing when I see it,” he
-declared, “and this couldn’t be bought anywhere else
-for that money. Nothing in the world the matter
-with it either, not a flaw about it except”&mdash;showing
-where the back could be lowered to make it more of
-a reclining chair&mdash;“this spring works a little hard.
-But a cabinet-maker could fix that in a few moments,
-and we’ll have it done right away. Kip!” as the boy
-passed the door&mdash;“Kip, could you take this down to
-the parson’s this afternoon? I want it to go at once.”</p>
-
-<p>Kip could scarcely believe his ears. “Yes <i>sir</i>!”
-he said with his eyes fairly dancing. “You mean to
-send it to him, uncle Ralph? guess I can take
-it!”</p>
-
-<p>He never called his minister “the parson”&mdash;it
-scarcely sounded respectful enough&mdash;but of course
-he knew who was meant and he was far too happy for
-any criticising thought. That handsome easy chair!
-Wouldn’t the very sight of it rest poor tired Mrs.
-Clay? Kip could see just how her pale face would
-look leaned back against the cushions.</p>
-
-<div class="figright">
-<img src="images/fig111.jpg" alt="" />
-<p class="caption">“AND JILL CAME TUMBLING AFTER.”</p>
-</div>
-
-
-<p>“It’s pretty heavy for you to carry so far though,”
-Mr. Mitchel was saying when Kip recalled his wandering
-wits far enough to understand. “’Jim could
-take it in the wagon perhaps”&mdash;</p>
-
-<p>“I might put it in the hand-cart and wheel it over,”
-interposed Kip with a sudden inspiration. He could
-bear no delay, and he wanted to take it himself.</p>
-
-<p>Mr. Mitchel commended that suggestion as “not
-a bad notion on Kip’s part.”</p>
-
-<p>“And what shall I tell him, uncle Ralph?”</p>
-
-<p>“Tell him&mdash;why, he’ll understand; he can see for
-himself. Tell him I sent it, and he’ll know what to
-do with it, I suppose.”</p>
-
-<p>Kip supposed so too. He waited for no further
-directions, but made a partial toilet very expeditiously,
-and was soon safely out on the road with his
-treasure. To say that he was pleased and proud is a
-very faint description of his feelings. He trundled
-that hand-cart by no out-of-the-way route, and he was
-not long alone; the village boys hailed him:</p>
-
-<p>“Hello, Kip! What you got there?”</p>
-
-<p>“It’s our folks’ present to the minister,” answered
-Kip grandly, and one after another the admiring boys
-fell into line until the chair formed the center of a
-triumphal procession. The village soon knew of the
-gift, as the village always did know of everything that
-happened within its limits, and Kip had the satisfaction
-of being stopped several times, and of hearing
-that Mr. Mitchel had done “the handsome thing,”
-and that the chair was “out-and-out nice.”</p>
-
-<p>So, in a beatific state, he reached the gate of the
-little parsonage. There was no lack of assistance.
-Every urchin was anxious to share at least the
-reflected glory of helping to carry it, and it was
-borne to the house very much as a party of ants bear
-off a lump of sugar&mdash;by swarming all over it. The
-minister came to the door, the body-guard fell back,
-and Kip presented his prize.</p>
-
-<p>“Here’s something that Uncle Ralph sent you, sir;
-he bought it in town to-day. He said tell you he
-sent it, and he guessed you’d know what to do with
-it,” he said with shining eyes.</p>
-
-<p>The minister’s eyes shone too, and then grew dim.
-This was so unexpected, and it meant so much to
-him! It had sometimes seemed hard to that kindly,
-tender heart that the one of all the village who could
-have done most, had never manifested any interest in
-his work for those poor people&mdash;had not lifted with
-even a finger the burden of care and sacrifice, or
-shown any disposition to aid or encourage. But
-there must have been sympathy after all. This was
-a generous gift in its luxuriousness&mdash;a thoughtful
-one, for it was for the dear invalid. He opened a
-door near him and said softly:</p>
-
-<p>“Rachel, look here!”</p>
-
-<p>How he had wanted just such an easy, restful
-cushioned niche for the worn slight form! The boys
-could not understand what it was to him in itself and
-in what it represented&mdash;“Only his voice had a tremble
-in it like when he prays,” Kip said to himself on
-his homeward way.</p>
-
-<p>However he hated “fixed up company” in general
-he would not for anything miss the gathering at the
-parsonage that evening, and wood and water, cows
-and kindlings must be looked after early. So it
-happened he did not speak with Mr. Mitchel again
-until nightfall. Then that gentleman bethought him
-of his commission.</p>
-
-<p>“Ah, Kip, carried the chair safely, did you?”</p>
-
-<p>“Yes sir.”</p>
-
-<p>“Well, what did he say to it?”</p>
-
-<p>“I wish you’d seen him, uncle Ralph!” said Kip
-radiantly. “Not, as he said much either, only something
-’bout he didn’t know how to thank you&mdash;”</p>
-
-<p>“How to thank me?” repeated Mr. Mitchel in
-amazement. “Why should he? He isn’t so short of
-work as all that, is he?”</p>
-
-<p>“Short of work, uncle Ralph!” It was Kip’s
-turn to open wide eyes of astonishment. “I should
-think not, with all his preachin’ and Sunday-school
-and poor folks! I don’t s’pose he thought
-he’d have time to sit in it much himself; but Mrs.
-Clay, she’s sick&mdash;”</p>
-
-<p>“What have the Clays to do with it?” demanded
-Mr. Mitchel with clouding brow and a dawning
-suspicion of something wrong. “I told you to take
-it to Mr. Parsons&mdash;the cabinet-maker’s&mdash;to have
-that spring fixed.”</p>
-
-<p>Kip saw it all then, but he wished the floor would
-quietly open and drop him into the cellar, or that he
-could fly through the roof. He thrust his hands
-deep into his pockets, and his face flushed and
-paled.</p>
-
-<p>“I&mdash;thought&mdash;you said the parson’s,” he stammered.
-“I s’posed ’twas for the minister’s donation,
-and so&mdash;”</p>
-
-<p>“You took it there?” Mr. Mitchel completed the
-sentence. “Now how in the world&mdash;”</p>
-
-<p>But it was too much to be borne. Kip waited for
-nothing more, but rushed from the house, and if in
-the shadow of the friendly wood-pile he leaned his
-head against the rough sticks and cried, there was no
-one to see.</p>
-
-<p>“They may fix it up any way they please,” he said.
-“I can’t do it! I can’t and I wont!”</p>
-
-<p>A little later he stood by the old gate watching the
-great yellow moon come up, and digging his red fists
-into his eyes now and then to wipe away some stray
-tears of shame, indignation and grief that still
-gathered there. This was not a very nice world
-anyhow, he decided with a queer aching spot at his
-heart. Almost it seemed as if he had asked for bread
-and received a stone&mdash;a sharp heavy stone at that.</p>
-
-<p>Indoors Mr. Mitchel had expressed very distinctly
-his opinion of the carelessness and obtuseness that
-could have caused such a blunder, and the “awkwardness
-of the whole thing,” and in no little vexation
-was trying to find some means of remedy.</p>
-
-<p>“I might write a note and explain, but then&mdash;I
-declare it’s the most awkward disagreeable thing I
-ever knew! Such a stupid blunder.”</p>
-
-<p>“Papa,” interposed the slow, wondering voice of
-Bud, “I didn’t know there could be any mistakes up
-there.”</p>
-
-<p>“Up where, child?”</p>
-
-<p>“In heaven. Kip prayed you’d bring something
-for his minister&mdash;’cause I heard him&mdash;behind the
-wood-pile,” said Bud with slow emphasis. “I thought
-that made the chair come. I’m most sure ’twasn’t
-any mistake, papa.”</p>
-
-<p>Mr. Mitchel pushed aside pen and paper, put on
-his hat and walked out. He really did not know the
-best way out of the difficulty. It was very vexatious,
-and in his perplexity he journeyed towards the
-parsonage. When he came in sight of the house
-he paused. What did he intend to do? Go there
-when others were making their offerings, and explain
-that he had not wished to show any friendship or
-appreciation, and wanted to take back what had
-been proffered through mistake? Certainly not! He
-turned, but at that moment some one joined him.</p>
-
-<p>“Ah, Mr. Mitchel! Just going in? That was a
-generous gift of yours&mdash;exactly the thing for poor
-Mrs. Clay.”</p>
-
-<p>Others came with similar comment. There was
-no chance to say anything, and scarcely knowing why
-or how, Mr. Mitchel found himself in the well-filled
-room, saw the sweet, pale face, with its smile of
-welcome for all, looking out from the cushions of
-the new chair, and felt the quick warm grateful clasp
-of the minister’s hand. Something in look and
-clasp and murmured words brought a sudden throb
-to Mr. Mitchel’s heart, a moisture to his eye.</p>
-
-<p>Then, before he had time to recover from his
-bewilderment, some one had called on him to “make
-a few remarks,” and others echoed the request, and
-he found himself pushed forward to the front and
-heard his own voice saying, “How much cause all
-had to value Mr. Clay’s work in the village,” and
-expressing the hope that he might “enjoy these
-simple offerings as tokens of esteem and friendship.”
-Aye, and he meant it too, for catching the spirit of
-those around him, and swiftly comprehending more
-of the good man’s life and work than he had ever
-done before, he only regretted that he had not sent
-the offering of his own free will and pleasure.</p>
-
-<p>He found an opportunity, however, to whisper to
-Kip who had slipped in later with very sober face&mdash;a
-face that brightened at sight of him.</p>
-
-<p>“It’s all right. Don’t say a word to anybody
-about it.”</p>
-
-<p>He had a pleasant evening despite a feeling of
-strangeness about it, and on his homeward way
-muttered something to himself about “a blessed
-blunder.” What he told at home Kip did not know,
-but when the boy arrived, a little later, Bud, wide-awake
-and listening for his step, raised her yellow
-head from its pillow and called:</p>
-
-<p>“Ke&mdash;ip! it all comed out right, didn’t it?”</p>
-
-<p>Kip thought it had. He was sure of it afterward
-when he saw the friendship that from that night
-began between the Mitchels and “his minister.”</p>
-
-<div class="figcenter">
-<img src="images/fig112.jpg" alt="" />
-</div>
-
-<hr class="full x-ebookmaker-drop" />
-
-<div class="chapter">
-
-
-<h2 class="nobreak" id="c32">JIM’S TROUBLES.</h2>
-</div>
-
-<hr class="r5" />
-<p class="c more">BY GRANDMERE JULIE.</p>
-<hr class="r6" />
-
-<div class="figleft">
-<img src="images/fig113.jpg" alt="" />
-<p class="caption">Spot.</p>
-</div>
-
-
-<p class="drop-cap2">“I KNOW he didn’t
-do it,” said good Mrs.
-Martin; “he says he
-didn’t do it, and I believe
-him.”</p>
-
-<p>“Then you don’t believe
-<i>me</i>?” asked Mrs.
-Turner rather severely.
-“I wish I had never
-seen that boy! I’m sure
-I have done my best by
-him, and been a mother
-to him. And now he’s turned out bad, everybody
-blames me for it. Father says, if he has done it,
-it is my fault for tempting him; Nelly has nearly
-cried her eyes out about it; and everybody seems to
-think it is more wicked to lose a spoon than to steal
-it&mdash;I declare they do.”</p>
-
-<p>“Well, he’s been a good, honest boy ever since he
-came here&mdash;a real nice, obliging, pleasant spoken
-little fellow; and it stands to reason a good boy
-don’t turn bad all in a jerk like that,” said Mrs.
-Martin, shaking her head.</p>
-
-<p>“I don’t know about jerks,” answered Mrs.
-Turner, “but I do know that, as soon as I had done
-cleaning that spoon, I put it back in the case, and
-as I was a-going to put it away, Jim comes in to get
-a pail, and says he, ‘ain’t it a pretty little box!’ and
-says I: ‘yes, but what’s in it is prettier.’ Then I
-smelt my bread a-burning, and I put down the case
-right here,” said Mrs. Turner striking the corner of
-her kitchen table, “and I ran to see to my bread,
-and when I came back Jim was gone, and my spoon
-was gone too. And I don’t suppose it walked off
-itself&mdash;do you?”</p>
-
-<p>“Of course it didn’t,” said Mrs. Martin; “but
-some one else might have come in, or it may be
-somewhere”&mdash;</p>
-
-<p>“I’d like to know where that somewhere is, then,”
-said Mrs. Turner; “I have looked high and low and
-turned the house upside-down for a week, and I
-haven’t seen any spoon yet. And nobody could
-come in without my seeing them because the front
-door was locked and so was the kitchen door, and
-anybody who came in or went out had to go through
-the back kitchen where I was. I saw Jim go out
-with his pail, but I didn’t suspect anything then&mdash;why
-should I? And it isn’t the spoon I mind so much,
-it’s the trouble, and the idea of that boy that had
-been treated like one of the family&mdash;but I won’t
-say anymore about it. I’ll send him back to New
-York, and”&mdash;</p>
-
-<p>“No, don’t do that! I guess I’ll take him,” said
-Mrs. Martin. “He hasn’t any home to go to, and if
-you send him back, there’s no telling what will become
-of him. Where is he?”</p>
-
-<p>“I guess he is sulking about the place somewhere,”
-said Mrs. Turner. “He said he hadn’t
-done it, and now he won’t say another word. I’ll
-call him if you really want him.”</p>
-
-<p>Mrs. Martin said she really wanted him, and Mrs.
-Turner, stepping out on the kitchen porch, called out,
-“Jim, Jim!”</p>
-
-<p>There was no answer, but pretty soon a boy
-walked across the yard toward the house, and stopped
-near the porch.</p>
-
-<p>He was a boy about twelve years old, tall of his
-age and rather thin, and with a round, honest face,
-which looked very pleasant when he was happy, but
-which was at that moment very much clouded.</p>
-
-<p>“I’ll speak to him by myself, if you don’t mind,”
-said Mrs. Martin, shutting the door and seating herself
-on the porch step.</p>
-
-<p>“Come here, my boy,” said she kindly, while her
-homely face looked almost beautiful with goodness.
-“I don’t believe you are a bad boy; I think it’s all a
-mistake, and it will come out all right some day. I
-am going to take you home with me, if you will
-come.”</p>
-
-<p>Jim’s brown eyes brightened, but he answered, not
-very gratefully, “Thank you, but I’d better go away
-from here&mdash;they all believe I took it.”</p>
-
-<p>“No, they don’t; I don’t for one. You had better
-stay and behave like a good, honest lad, and I’ll
-be a true friend to you. Besides, we mustn’t run
-away from our troubles! you know they are sent to
-make us good and strong, don’t you see, my boy?”</p>
-
-<p>Having finished her little sermon, Mrs. Martin
-got up and gave Jim a motherly hug and a kiss.
-And poor Jim “broke down” as he would have
-called it. But it was a breaking down that did him
-a world of good, and made a new boy of him.</p>
-
-<p>“There, there,” said Mrs. Martin, “now go and
-get your things, and we will go home.”</p>
-
-<p>Jim went up-stairs quietly to the little attic room
-that had been his own for two years. He made a
-small bundle of his old clothes. He wouldn’t take
-the new ones. “They was my friends when they
-got them for me,” he said to himself, “but now they
-ain’t my friends any more, and them clothes don’t
-belong to me now.”</p>
-
-<p>Jim’s grammar was not perfect, but he meant well,
-and in his heart he was very sorry to leave the
-friends who had been so kind to him during two
-happy years.</p>
-
-<p>As he turned to go down-stairs, he heard a noise
-in the hall, not far from him, and he saw Nellie
-Turner who seemed to be waiting for him. “Oh!
-Jim,” she said, and could not say more, because she
-began to cry.</p>
-
-<p>Poor little Nelly had been breaking her heart about
-Jim’s trouble. She was a nice little girl ten years
-old, with bright yellow curls, pink cheeks, and blue
-eyes; but now the pink of her cheeks had run into
-her eyes, and she did not look as pretty as usual.
-But Jim thought she was beautiful, and her red
-eyes were a great comfort to him.</p>
-
-<p>At last he spoke, “Good-by, Nelly; I am going
-away.”</p>
-
-<p>“I know it,” said Nelly, “but, Jim, I don’t believe
-you are bad, and you will be good, won’t you?”</p>
-
-<p>“Yes, I will,” said Jim. Then he left Nelly crying
-on the stairs, and went quickly to the porch
-where Mrs. Martin was waiting for him.</p>
-
-<p>“Well, good-by, Jim,” said Mrs. Turner. “I hope
-you’ll be a good boy. Remember I have been kind
-to you.”</p>
-
-<p>“Yes’m, thank you,” said Jim, rather coldly. He
-wanted to see “Father,” but Mr. Turner had taken
-himself out of the way.</p>
-
-<p>While Mrs. Martin was walking home with her
-little friend, and talking to him to cheer him up, they
-heard something running after them, and Jim said,
-“Here is Spot, what shall I do? I am afraid I can’t
-make him go back.”</p>
-
-<p>“Well, we’ll take him home, too,” said Mrs. Martin.
-“I like dogs, they are such faithful friends;
-they don’t care if people are pretty or ugly, rich or
-poor, good or bad, they just love them, and stick to
-them. Yes, we will take Spot, and make him
-happy.”</p>
-
-<p>This remark made two people very happy. Jim
-brightened up, and laughed; and Spot, who had
-kept his tail between his legs in a most respectful
-and entreating manner, now began to wag it joyfully,
-and showed his love by nearly knocking down Mrs.
-Martin, to let her know that he understood what she
-had said, and approved of it.</p>
-
-<p>Spot had been given to Jim by one of his school-mates,
-and Jim was very proud of his only piece of
-personal property. Spot was a white dog with a
-great many black spots all over him, and he was not
-exactly a beauty, but he was the best, lovingest,
-naughtiest, and most ridiculous young dog that ever
-adorned this world. He was always stealing bones,
-and old boots and shoes, and burying them in secret
-places as if they had been treasures, and no one had
-the heart to scold him much, because he looked so
-repentant and as if he would never, no never, do it
-again as long as he lived.</p>
-
-<p>Since the silver spoon had disappeared, Spot had
-been very unhappy; people seemed to give him all
-the benefit of their disturbed tempers. Mrs. Turner
-spoke crossly to him, and would not let him
-stay in the kitchen; Mr. Turner had slyly kicked
-him several times; Nelly cried over him when he
-wanted to play, and Jim only patted his head, and
-said, “poor Spot, poor Spot!” by which he meant,
-“poor Jim, poor Jim!” But now Spot felt that a
-good time was coming, and he rejoiced beforehand,
-like a sensible dog.</p>
-
-<p>And, in truth, a pretty good time did come. Jim
-was not entirely happy, because he could not prove
-his innocence, but he found that no one had been
-told of his supposed guilt.</p>
-
-<p>Mrs. Turner had not said a word about her missing
-spoon to any one. “I will give him another chance
-to begin right,” she had said to her husband. And
-Mr. Turner had replied, “I don’t believe he took it
-any more than I did; so what’s the good of making a
-fuss about nothing?”</p>
-
-<p>No fuss had been made; but Mrs. Turner had
-said to her little daughter, when she started for
-school the morning after Jim’s departure, “Nelly,
-you must be careful not to say a single word to anybody
-about Jim. But I don’t want you to ask him
-to come here, and it’s just as well for you not to
-play with him much.”</p>
-
-<p>“It is too bad,” said Nelly. But she was an
-obedient little girl, and the first time Jim came to
-school, when she saw that he hardly dared to look at
-her she thought that it would be better to tell him
-the truth.</p>
-
-<div class="figleft">
-<img src="images/fig114.jpg" alt="" />
-<p class="caption">OPINIONS DIFFER RESPECTING JIM.</p>
-</div>
-
-<p>So at recess she called him, and asked him to go
-with her on the road, where no one would hear them;
-then she said:</p>
-
-<p>“Jim, I want to tell you something. Mamma
-told me I must not ask you to come to the farm any
-more, and that I must not play with you much, and
-so I won’t do it. But I like you just the same, and
-I will give you an apple every day to say we are
-friends.”</p>
-
-<p>Nelly was as good as her word. Every morning,
-at recess, she gave Jim a small red and yellow “lady-apple,”
-which she had rubbed hard to make it shine,
-and which was one of the two apples her father gave
-her when she went to school; and the “lady-apples”
-were all kept for her, because she said they were so
-good and so pretty&mdash;“just like my little girl,” Mr.
-Turner said.</p>
-
-<p>And what do you suppose Jim did with his
-apples?</p>
-
-<p>Eat them. No, not he!</p>
-
-<p>Every time Nelly gave him an apple, he put it in
-his pocket and took it home. Then in the evening
-before going to bed, he made a hole in it&mdash;the apple,
-not in the bed&mdash;and strung it on a piece of
-twine which hung from a nail in the window-sash in
-his little room.</p>
-
-<p>The poor apples got brown, and wrinkled, and dry,
-but they were very precious to Jim, but every one of
-them said to him, as plain as an apple can speak:
-“I like you just the same.”</p>
-
-<p>And so the winter passed away quietly. Mrs.
-Martin became very fond of Jim; she said he was
-so smart and so handy about the house she didn’t
-know what she would do without him, and she didn’t
-think boys were any trouble at all.</p>
-
-<p>But, alas, how little we know what may happen!</p>
-
-<p>Spring had come, and house-cleaning had come
-with it. Mrs. Martin had a nice “best-room”
-which she never used except for half an hour on
-Sunday afternoons during the summer, and which
-was always as clean as clean can be. But in Spring,
-it had to be made cleaner, if possible; summer
-could not come till that was done.</p>
-
-<p>So the carpet was taken up, shaken, and put down
-again, and as Jim had helped in the shaking, Mrs.
-Martin kindly invited him to come in, and admire
-the room.</p>
-
-<p>“What a pretty room it is!” said Jim; “why don’t
-you live in it?”</p>
-
-<p>“Because it would wear out the carpet, and it is
-more comfortable in the sitting-room;” answered
-Mrs. Martin. Then she showed him a few books,
-boxes, and other works of art which were spread out
-on the big round table, and Jim admired everything.</p>
-
-<p>Among Mrs. Martin’s treasures, there was a brown
-morocco “Keepsake,” containing a pair of scissors,
-a silver thimble, and a needle-case. It had belonged
-to Mrs. Martin’s little daughter who had died several
-years before, and when Mrs. Martin went into
-the best-room on Sunday afternoons she always
-opened the “Keepsake,” and thought of the little
-hands that had played with it, long ago. And now
-as a reward of merit, she showed it to Jim.</p>
-
-<p>“It is the prettiest thing I ever saw!” said Jim;
-“when I am rich I will give Nellie Turner one just
-like it.”</p>
-
-<p>“She will have to wait some time, I guess,” said
-Mrs. Martin, laughing.</p>
-
-<p>Then they looked at the pictures of George Washington
-shaking hands with nobody, and of his wife,
-looking very sweet and handsome.</p>
-
-<p>“You are so great at stringing up things, Jimmy,”
-said Mrs. Martin with a funny look, “I want you to
-hang up these pictures for me, will you?”</p>
-
-<p>“I will,” said Jim, blushing a little as he thought
-of his string of apples; “I will do it next Saturday.”</p>
-
-<p>Jim kept his promise. The pictures were hung in
-the best light and made the room look so much prettier,
-that even Spot, who had been a silent observer,
-could keep still no longer, and barked his approbation.
-Then the blinds and windows were closed, the
-door locked, and the best-room was left to quiet and
-darkness.</p>
-
-<p>The next day being Sunday, Mrs. Martin paid
-her usual afternoon visit to the best-room. She admired
-the pictures a little while, then
-she went to the round table to take
-up the Keepsake; but the Keepsake
-was not there.</p>
-
-<p>She looked all over the table and
-under it, behind every chair and in
-every corner, but she did not find
-it. “I wonder where it can be?
-Perhaps I took it to the sitting-room
-without thinking,” said Mrs. Martin
-to herself.</p>
-
-<p>She went back to the sitting-room
-and looked everywhere, but found no
-Keepsake. Then she sat down in
-her rocking-chair and tried to think
-about something else, but could only
-say to herself: “I wonder where it
-is!”</p>
-
-<p>Jim came into the room with a
-new Sunday-school book, which he
-began to read. Mrs. Martin looked
-at him while he read, but for some
-reason she did not say anything to him about the
-Keepsake.</p>
-
-<p>The next morning she put off her washing, and as
-soon as Jim had gone to school she began to search
-the whole house; but no Keepsake did she find.</p>
-
-<p>“It can’t be, it can’t be,” she said with tears in
-her eyes; “but I <i>must</i> look in his room&mdash;perhaps
-he took it up to look at&mdash;he said it was so pretty.”</p>
-
-<p>Mrs. Martin went up to Jim’s room, but found
-nothing there except his clothes, the apples, and a
-few little treasures such as boys have.</p>
-
-<p>Then she fell on her knees by Jim’s bed, and cried
-with all her heart. “No, I won’t believe it till I
-have to,” she said at last. “Poor boy; it’s hard on
-him and he has been so good, too! But I must speak
-to him about it, and if he has done wrong I must try
-to be patient with him.”</p>
-
-<p>When Jim came home from school in the afternoon,
-Mrs. Martin called him into the sitting-room.
-“Come here, Jim,” she said; “I want to speak to
-you.”</p>
-
-<p>She had said it very kindly, but there was something
-in her voice that made Jim feel a little
-queer.</p>
-
-<p>He came in and stood before her, and she said to
-him: “Jim do you know what has become of that
-pretty Keepsake I showed you the other day? I can’t
-find it anywhere, and I have looked and looked.”</p>
-
-<div class="figright">
-<img src="images/fig115.jpg" alt="" />
-<p class="caption">“I LIKE YOU JUST THE SAME! I LIKE YOU JUST THE SAME!”</p>
-</div>
-
-<p>“No,” said Jim boldly, “I havn’t seen it since. I
-hope it isn’t lost.” Then he stopped, and his face
-blushed crimson. There was something in Mrs.
-Martin’s eyes, as well as in her voice, that reminded
-him of his trouble about the silver-spoon.</p>
-
-<p>“Oh! you don’t think”&mdash;he cried out.</p>
-
-<p>But he could say no more&mdash;Mrs. Martin had him
-in her arms the next moment.</p>
-
-<p>“No, I <i>don’t</i> think,” she said, “I don’t, my boy!
-not for the world I wouldn’t! only I can’t find it,
-and&mdash;and&mdash;”</p>
-
-<p>“Let me look for it,” said Jim.</p>
-
-<p>They looked again together, but with no success.
-That night there were two heavy hearts in the quiet
-little house, and the next morning there were two
-pair of red eyes at the breakfast table.</p>
-
-<p>“You must not grieve so, Jim,” said Mrs. Martin.
-“I hope it will all come out right; we must try to
-bear it well, and go to work as if nothing had happened.”</p>
-
-<p>But she could not follow her own advice, and the
-washing remained undone.</p>
-
-<p>Jim did not go to school, and spent his time looking
-everywhere in the orchard and in the garden,
-while Spot followed him, wondering what was the
-matter.</p>
-
-<p>No one had any appetite for dinner, and after trying
-in vain to eat a potato, Jim went up to his
-room.</p>
-
-<p>Mrs. Martin tried to sit still, and sew, but she
-could not bear it long; and when she heard the
-children coming from school, she went to the gate to
-look at them; they were so happy that it seemed to
-do her good.</p>
-
-<p>“Is Jimmy sick?” asked little Nelly, stopping on
-her way.</p>
-
-<p>“No,” said Mrs. Martin; “but he’s been busy,
-and couldn’t go to school.”</p>
-
-<p>Nelly wanted to send him a nice russet apple she
-had kept for him, but she did not quite dare to do it
-because Mrs. Martin looked so sober.</p>
-
-<p>Jim heard her voice from his room, but he did not
-dare to show himself. “She won’t like me just the
-same when she hears of this,” he thought; and he
-felt as if he had not a friend in the world. “I would
-give my head to find that thing,” he said; “she don’t
-believe I took it, but she believes it too; I shall
-have to go away from here, and I don’t care what
-becomes of me, anyway.”</p>
-
-<p>Mrs. Martin stood at the gate a little while watching
-the children, then she went to the garden to look
-at her hot-beds&mdash;two large pine boxes in which
-lettuce, radishes, and tomatoes were doing their
-best to grow fast and green.</p>
-
-<p>When she came near the beds, she saw Spot
-stretched on the ground, enjoying an old bone, as
-she thought.</p>
-
-<p>“This won’t do, Spot,” she said; “I don’t want
-you to bring your bones here. Go away!”</p>
-
-<p>Spot did not seem to mind her at all, so she came
-a little nearer to make a personal impression upon
-him with the toe of her shoe.</p>
-
-<p>Spot growled, and turned away his head a little,
-and as he did so, a little silver thimble fell out of the
-old bone and rolled upon the ground.</p>
-
-<p>“My Keepsake!” exclaimed Mrs. Martin. And,
-as she said afterward, she was so taken by surprise
-you could have knocked her down with a feather.</p>
-
-<p>She waited half a minute to get her breath when
-she picked up the thimble and ran toward the house,
-calling with all her might: “Jim, Jim, here it is!
-here, come!”</p>
-
-<p>Jim never remembered how he got down stairs,
-but there he was staring at the thimble, and so happy
-that he couldn’t even begin to say a word.</p>
-
-<p>Mrs. Martin was just explaining to him: “you
-see it was Spot, and the bone, and the hot-bed
-fell out of it, and I knew it was not you”&mdash;when,
-they heard a big voice calling from the road: “Jim,
-Jim, come out here quick!”</p>
-
-<p>They looked round, and saw farmer Turner running
-as fast as such a fat man could run, and waving
-something shiny over his head.</p>
-
-<p>“Here it is!” he said, “here is that blessed
-spoon! I was a-plowing in a corner of the orchard,
-when I turned up a soft stone made of red morocco,
-with a silver spoon in it. Didn’t I tell you so? I
-never believed it. Hallo! what’s the matter?”</p>
-
-<p>The matter was a most wonderful scramble. Mrs.
-Turner and little Nelly had run across lots, and here
-they were, talking, and laughing, and crying. Everybody
-hugged everybody else, and everybody was so
-glad she was so sorry, or so sorry she was so glad&mdash;farmer
-Turner vowed he couldn’t tell which it was
-most.</p>
-
-<p>At last they made out that they were all very glad,
-and Mrs. Martin invited them all to stay to tea.
-They accepted the invitation, and such a tea-party
-never took place anywhere&mdash;not even in Boston&mdash;for
-the company had joy as well as hot biscuits, and
-happiness as well as cake.</p>
-
-<p>Spot was scolded and forgiven, and wagged his tail
-so hard that it is a wonder it didn’t come off.</p>
-
-<p>As for Jim, he got kisses enough that evening to
-last him for a lifetime.</p>
-
-<p>This is the true end to a true story, but not
-the last end by any means.</p>
-
-<p>For Jim is now a “boy” twenty-one years old,
-and Nelly “likes him just the same,” only a great
-deal more.</p>
-
-<div class="figcenter">
-<img src="images/fig116.jpg" alt="" />
-<p class="caption">“<span class="smcap">They’ll think I’m Papa!</span>”</p>
-</div>
-
-
-<hr class="full x-ebookmaker-drop" />
-
-<div class="chapter">
-
-<div class="figcenter" id="c33">
-<img src="images/fig117.jpg" alt="" />
-<p class="caption">ON THE WAY TO THE BLOOMING.</p>
-</div>
-
-<h2 class="nobreak">THE CHRISTMAS THORN.</h2>
-</div>
-
-
-
-<hr class="r5" />
-<p class="c more">BY LOUISE STOCKTON.</p>
-<hr class="r6" />
-
-
-
-
-<p class="drop-cap">IN the December of 1752, Roger Lippett was a boy
-of ten years, and “Dan,” his dog, was six
-months old and had to be taught to swim. To this
-pleasing duty Roger addressed himself whenever he
-had a chance, and the only draw-back was that his
-mother would allow no wet dog upon her sanded
-floor, and as Roger had to be wherever Dan was, he
-had often a tedious time in waiting for such a very
-curly dog to get dry.</p>
-
-<p>But this Sunday afternoon the two had taken a
-long walk after the swim, and when they came back
-Dan was dry and uncommonly clean and white.</p>
-
-<p>In the little parlor Roger found the usual Sunday
-company. In an arm-chair on one side of the fireplace
-sat Simon Mitchels, the school-master; opposite
-to him, on a three-legged stool, was Caleb Dawe,
-the parish clerk, and on the settle, in front of the
-fire, was Roger’s cousin, old Forbes the miller, and
-short Daniel Green, the sexton. His mother sat in
-her high-backed chair by the window, and Phœbe
-Rogers’ younger sister was near her playing gleefully
-with a kitten.</p>
-
-<p>“Christmas!” said Caleb; “there’ll be no Christmas!
-What between the New Way and the Old
-Way, we’ll all go astray. It is a popish innovation
-at the best, and if King George knew his duty, he’d
-put his foot on it.”</p>
-
-<p>“Nonsense!” said Simon, testily; “when a thing
-is wrong, ’tis wrong, and if you mean to make it
-right, you must not mind a little temporary trouble.
-King George knows that just as well as any one, and
-so do you! If you wanted a new roof on your house
-you would first have to take the old one off.”</p>
-
-<p>“Not Caleb,” said old Forbes. “Caleb ’d patch
-the old one until it was new-made over.”</p>
-
-<p>“Yes,” replied Simon, “that is just what we have
-been doing with the year&mdash;patching and patching.
-Now here comes King George, and says, ‘Look here,
-this is 1752, and if we are ever going to have a decent
-regular year with the proper number of days in it,
-’tis time we were about it.’ But you people who
-patch roofs object because it alters the dates for one
-year a day or two. Thanks be to the King, however,
-he has the power.”</p>
-
-<p>“Alters the dates a day or two!” repeated Caleb.
-“You yourself said the New Way would take eleven
-days out of the year.”</p>
-
-<p>“Only this year,” Simon replied; “afterward it will
-be all right. It is but to bring the first of January in
-the right place.”</p>
-
-<p>“It was right enough,” persisted Caleb. “And I
-say no one, king or no king, has any right to take
-eleven days away from the English people.”</p>
-
-<p>Then Mistress Margery Lippett spoke:</p>
-
-<p>“For my part,” she said, “I think the New Way
-unchristian. Mistress Duncan, you know, has a fine
-crowing little boy, and when the squire asked how
-old he was, she told him&mdash;’twas but a day so ago&mdash;three
-months and two weeks; and he laughed, and
-told her she would have to take the two weeks off.
-Now <i>that</i> I call unchristian, and not dealing justly
-with the child.”</p>
-
-<p>At this the school-master laughed, and taking his
-pipe out of his mouth, and pushing his velvet skull-cap
-a little farther back, he replied:</p>
-
-<p>“They were both right, Mistress Margery. Both
-of them. The mother counts by weeks&mdash;very good&mdash;the
-squire by the proper calendar. One makes the
-child three months and two weeks, and she is right;
-the other deducts eleven days to fit the calendar, and
-he, too, is right.”</p>
-
-<p>“Out with it,” cried Caleb; “out with such a calendar!
-Why, the whole realm will be in confusion.
-None of us will ever know how old we are, or when
-the church-days are due; but I doubt if, in spite of
-it all, the Pope’s new calendar doesn’t keep the
-squire’s rent-day straight. They’ll look out for
-that.”</p>
-
-<p>“I suppose,” said Simon, “you all think the year
-was created when the world was?”</p>
-
-<p>“Of course it was,” said Mistress Margery; “didn’t
-He make the day and the night, and do you suppose
-He would have passed the year over?”</p>
-
-<p>“You are about right,” said Simon; “but the
-trouble is we are just finding out what His year is?
-See here, Roger,” and he turned his head to the
-boy, “do you know how many different kinds of
-years we can reckon?”</p>
-
-<p>“Not I, master,” said Roger.</p>
-
-<p>“Well, I’ll tell you. Suppose you wanted a measure
-of time answering to a year, you might reckon
-from the time the apples blow to when they blow
-again, but if a frost or a blight seize them, you’d be
-out with your count, wouldn’t you?”</p>
-
-<p>“Truly,” said Mistress Margery, who delighted to
-see how well Roger understood his learned master.</p>
-
-<p>“Well, then,” resumed the teacher, “you would
-soon find that if you wanted a regular, unchangeable
-guide, one unaffected by seasons, by droughts, heats,
-or hostile winds, you would look to the skies. You
-would, perhaps, if you were wise enough, and had observed&mdash;you
-would single out some special star;
-you would take close notice of its position, note its
-changes, then you would say, ‘When that comes
-back to the very spot where it was when I began to
-watch it, that time I shall count as my year.’ Do
-you follow me?”</p>
-
-<p>“That I do,” said Roger.</p>
-
-<p>“That, then, is one way in which a year was once
-calculated, and the star chosen gave three hundred
-and sixty-five days for a year.”</p>
-
-<p>“Now that is a calendar, true and unchangeable,
-and correct beyond what a Pope can make,” said
-Caleb.</p>
-
-<p>“That, Roger,” said Simon, taking no notice of
-Caleb, “is called a Sidereal year. Now, come you
-here, Phœbe, and tell me what is a Lunar year?”</p>
-
-<p>“A year of moons,” said Phœbe, her bright eyes
-dancing.</p>
-
-<p>“You have the making of a scholar in you,” said
-Simon; “’tis a pity you are a girl. A Lunar year <i>is</i>
-a year of twelve moons. This Lunar year has but
-three hundred and fifty-four days, still it served the
-purposes of the Chaldeans, the Persians, and Jews.</p>
-
-<p>“Then there was the Solar year, calculated by the
-sun; and it and the Lunar year agreed so badly that
-every three years another lunar month had to be
-counted in to keep the one from running away from
-the other. Now, I suppose you all think,” looking
-at the group around the fireside, “that all these years
-began the first of January and ended the thirty-first
-of December?”</p>
-
-<p>“It is but just that they should,” said old Forbes,
-Caleb disdaining to speak.</p>
-
-<p>“But <i>they didn’t</i>,” said Simon. “The Jews began
-their year in March; in Greece it began in June, and
-certain Eastern Christians began theirs in August.”</p>
-
-<p>“That isn’t England,” said Caleb, in a tone of
-contempt.</p>
-
-<p>“Truly not,” said Simon; “but the English year
-used to begin the twenty-fifth of December, until the
-coronation of William the Conqueror&mdash;when was
-that, Phœbe?”</p>
-
-<p>“In 1066,” said Phœbe, smoothing her teacher’s
-ruffles with the air of a petted and privileged child.</p>
-
-<p>“It was January the first, 1066,” resumed Simon;
-“and it was judged so important an event that it was
-ordered that ever after <i>the year should begin on that
-day</i>. But I can tell you worse than that of England.
-There are places in England to-day, where they
-reckon their year from the twenty-fifth of March!</p>
-
-<p>“But long before William’s time,” he continued,
-“the Romans had ideas, and they thought it wise to
-straighten up the year for their own use. So Julius
-Cæsar&mdash;when did he begin to reign, Phœbe?”</p>
-
-<p>“I don’t know,” said she.</p>
-
-<p>“In 63, B. C.” said Roger, eagerly.</p>
-
-<p>“No, that was Cæsar Augustus, and we are coming
-to him. Julius Cæsar lived before that, and he arranged
-the years so that all the even numbers among
-the months, except February, had thirty days, and all
-the odd ones thirty-one. Do you understand that?”</p>
-
-<p>“Not I,” said Phœbe, frankly.</p>
-
-<p>“January is the first month; it is not an even
-number?”</p>
-
-<p>“No,” said Phœbe.</p>
-
-<p>“March is the third month, and so is not an even
-number?”</p>
-
-<p>“No,” said Phœbe again.</p>
-
-<p>“They each then, being odd, had thirty-one days,
-while May and July, and the other even months, except
-February, had thirty days. That was all very
-easy, and the length of the year seemed settled; but
-when Cæsar Augustus came on the throne he was
-not satisfied. ‘What,’ said he, ‘shall Julius Cæsar
-in his month of July have thirty-one days, and I, in
-my month of August, have but thirty!’ And so he
-at once made August longer.”</p>
-
-<p>“He was very foolish,” said Phœbe. “I was
-born in February, wasn’t I, mother? and <i>I</i> don’t care
-because Roger was born in December, when there
-are more days.”</p>
-
-<p>“But you are not a Cæsar,” replied her teacher.
-“At any rate this Cæsar made the year all wrong
-again; and in 1582 Gregory, who was Pope, set to work
-to help matters. He had to drop some days, I believe,
-in the first year just as we are going to now. The
-French and Italian people, and some others, were
-wise enough to see this improvement at once, and
-they adopted Pope Gregory’s year; but we, for nearly
-two hundred years more, have been getting along
-with the old way, and our new year comes ahead of
-almost everybody else’s, and those who travel get
-their dates badly mixed.”</p>
-
-<p>“Surely,” said Roger, “it <i>would</i> be best to have
-the same year the world over.”</p>
-
-<p>“So King George thinks,” said Simon; “but Caleb
-here says not, and quarrels because eleven days have
-to be dropped out of this one year, so that for all
-aftertime the years, months, and days, will go on in
-an even, regular and seemly manner.”</p>
-
-<p>“And I rightly object,” replied Caleb; “and when
-the proper Christmas-day comes I shall keep it, and
-no king, no pope, and no Julius Cæsar, <i>nobody</i>, shall
-ever make me change the blessed day for any other
-falsely called by its name.” And Caleb put his
-hands to his three-legged stool, and lifting it and
-himself at the same moment, brought it down with a
-bang.</p>
-
-<p>“Well, we can’t go wrong about Christmas-day,”
-said Mistress Margery, “if we but follow the blooming
-of the Glastonbury Thorn.”</p>
-
-<p>“That we cannot,” answered old Forbes. “For
-hundreds and hundreds of years, long before popes
-or calendars were thought of, that Thorn has bloomed
-every Christmas Eve, and not only the one at Glastonbury,
-but every sacred slip cut from it and planted
-has remembered the birthday of The Child <i>and never
-failed to blossom</i>!”</p>
-
-<p>“That is all superstition,” said Simon; “the plant
-naturally blossoms twice a year&mdash;that is all.”</p>
-
-<p>“Indeed that is not all,” cried Mistress Margery.
-“I was born and raised at Quainton, but seven miles
-from here, and there, as you all know, is a fine tree
-grown from a Glastonbury slip, and many’s the time
-when, with the whole village, have I gone out to see
-the blooming.”</p>
-
-<p>“And when did it bloom, mother?” asked Phœbe.</p>
-
-<p>“Always on Christmas Eve. The blossoms were
-snow white, and by Christmas night they were gone.”</p>
-
-<p>“But, mother,” said Roger, “why is the Glastonbury
-tree the best, if this at Quainton blooms as
-well?”</p>
-
-<p>“Because it was the first one planted, of course,”
-said Mistress Margery; “I know no other reason.”</p>
-
-<p>Phœbe saw the little smile upon Simon’s face, and
-taking his coat lappets in both hands, she bent her
-pretty little head in front of his, and said:</p>
-
-<p>“Tell us, master.”</p>
-
-<p>“You think,” he answered, “that I must know all
-the old wives’ stories? Well, I will tell you this one.
-Joseph of Arimathea, you know, gave his sepulchre
-to receive the body of the Lord. Into it the blessed
-angels went, and out from it, upon the third day,
-came the Risen Saviour. From that hour, until the
-one in which he saw the Lord return unto the skies,
-Joseph followed Him, and then all Palestine became
-to him empty and weary. There were people who
-doubted the resurrection; people who said that
-Joseph himself was one who aided in a deception;
-and so, tired of it all, he took his staff in hand and
-wandered until he came to England, and to Glastonbury.
-On Christmas-day he climbed the hill where
-the old, old church now stands, and here, in sign that
-his wanderings were over, he planted his staff. At
-once it rooted, it shot forth leaves, it blossomed, and
-the scent of the milk-white flowers filled the air.
-From that time to the days when Charles and Cromwell
-fought, it has blossomed on Christmas Eve;
-but then it was cut down by some impious hand, yet
-still all the slips, the twigs, which had been cut off
-by pilgrims, have kept the sacred birthday; and as
-your mother says, the one in Quainton can as well as
-the other decide between the Old calendar and the
-New.”</p>
-
-<p>“I am glad to hear thee say so,” exclaimed Mistress
-Margery, with brightening eyes, “and if you
-choose to journey with us when next we go to Quainton,
-you are heartily welcome to our company, and
-I’ll bespeak thee a honest welcome from my sister
-who, like my Phœbe here, has a strong leaning
-toward learning.”</p>
-
-<p>“Nay,” said the school-master, looking a little
-ashamed of himself; “I but told the story to amuse
-the child. The plant is merely a sort of hawthorn
-from Aleppo, and regularly blooms twice in the year,
-if the weather be but mild.”</p>
-
-<p>But although Mistress Margery was much disappointed
-that he had no desire to go to Quainton, she
-found both Roger and Phœbe bent upon witnessing
-the Christmas blooming.</p>
-
-<p>“I don’t know,” said she, lightly, “but that between
-the Old Way, and the New, the Thorn will be
-confused, and not know when it should bloom.”</p>
-
-<p>“It will not bloom on your new Christmas, take
-my word for that,” said Forbes; “and if the children
-will wait until the true day comes, I myself will take
-them along, for I have a mind to see it myself.”</p>
-
-<p>“But, cousin Forbes,” said Phœbe, “it <i>may</i> bloom
-on the new day.”</p>
-
-<p>The little people had their way. On the morning
-of the twenty-fourth of December, by the New Style,
-but the thirteenth by Caleb’s count, Roger and
-Phœbe started off, mounted on their mother’s own
-steady white horse, Phœbe behind her brother, with
-the bag containing their holiday clothes, while to
-Roger was given their lunch, and a bottle of blackberry
-wine for their aunt, with whom they were to
-lodge in Quainton.</p>
-
-<p>The morning was cold and bleak, but the children
-rode merrily on. It was the first time they had been
-trusted alone on such an expedition, and Phœbe at
-once proposed that they should play that Roger was
-a wandering knight, and she one of the fair, distressed
-damsels who were always met by knights when on
-their travels.</p>
-
-<p>“I would,” said Roger, “if you could find another
-knight to whom I could give battle, but it is rather
-tame to be pacing along here with you behind me,
-and no danger ahead.”</p>
-
-<p>“I wish then,” said Phœbe, “that mother had not
-wanted cousin Forbes’ horse, for, perhaps, he would
-have lent it to us, and then, with such a horse, we
-could have been a knight and a lady out hawking,
-and I would have given you a race.”</p>
-
-<p>“That would have been a rarely good plan,” said
-Roger, looking up the level road, “and I do not like
-to lose it. Ho, lady,” he cried, looking behind him,
-“thy father is in pursuit!” And clapping both feet
-to the sides of the horse, he put him to his speed.</p>
-
-<p>“Oh, Roger! oh, sir Knight!” exclaimed Phœbe,
-“my hood&mdash;if I could but tie it!”</p>
-
-<p>“I cannot wait for hoods,” said the knight, in a
-stern voice; “when we reach my castle thou shalt
-have twenty-two, and a crown beside.”</p>
-
-<p>The lady would not have doubted this for the
-world, but she nevertheless loosened one hand,
-clinging desperately to her protector with the other,
-and pulled off the hood, held it, and clutched her
-knight who, with cries of “on Selim, on!” urged
-poor old Dobbin to his best.</p>
-
-<p>There was, indeed, a clatter of horses’ hoofs behind,
-and with it a loud cry, Phœbe turned her
-head.</p>
-
-<p>“Oh, sir Knight!” she cried with very short
-breath; “my father <i>is</i> near at hand! Hasten, oh,
-hasten!”</p>
-
-<p>And sure enough, some one was! He was short
-and stout, and looked much more like a butcher’s
-boy than a gentle lady’s father; and he was certainly
-in pursuit, and he called again and again, but the
-only effect was to make the flying knight more
-vigorously kick the sides of his horse, and more
-vehemently push on. But as fortune would have it
-the father’s horse was the swiftest, and in spite of
-the knight’s best efforts he was down along-side.</p>
-
-<p>“What do you mean?” he exclaimed, “by racing
-off in this way! If I didn’t know that was Mistress
-Margery Lippett’s horse I would have let you go on,
-seeing that you haven’t
-sense enough to know
-he has lost a shoe.”</p>
-
-<p>At this Roger quickly
-stopped his steed.</p>
-
-<p>“Which one?” he
-exclaimed&mdash;“Here
-Phœbe, I must get down&mdash;the hind foot shoe is gone.”</p>
-
-<div class="figleft">
-<img src="images/fig118.jpg" alt="" />
-<p class="caption">ON THE ROAD ONCE MORE.</p>
-</div>
-
-<p>“Oh, Roger,” cried Phœbe, “what would mother
-say! She is so careful of Dobbin, and she charged
-us to take heed of him; and Roger, <i>must</i> we go
-home, do you think?”</p>
-
-<p>“Of course not,” replied Roger, “and see here
-Dick,” for he now recognized his pursuer, “cannot
-you tell me where to find a blacksmith?”</p>
-
-<p>“There is one at Torrey,” said Dick, “a mile
-down that road. It is the nearest place, but it will
-take you out of your way, if you are going to the
-Blooming as am I, who must be off, or my master
-will take my ears in pay for my tarrying.”</p>
-
-<p>It was easy enough to find the blacksmith’s shop,
-but the blacksmith was not there, although he would
-soon be back, his wife said. Roger tied his horse,
-and then he and Phœbe wandered about until he
-declared it was lunch time; so they came back, and
-were about to eat their lunch by the stile, when the
-smith’s wife saw them, and calling them into her
-kitchen, spread a table for them, and added a cold
-pie and some milk to their repast.</p>
-
-<p>But still the man did not come, and Roger waited
-in great impatience. He was almost ready to start
-off again for Quainton, but Phœbe was so sure that
-the penalty of injuring Dobbin would be the never
-trusting of them alone again, that he was afraid to
-risk it. Then there came a man with two horses to
-be shod, and he waited and scolded and stamped his
-feet, and then the blacksmith came, but he at once
-attended to the man, and so Dobbin had to wait.
-But at last Dobbin was shod, and Roger mounted,
-and then the blacksmith lifted Phœbe up.</p>
-
-<p>“Where are you going?” said the smith.</p>
-
-<p>“To Quainton,” replied Roger; “we are going to
-see the Blooming.”</p>
-
-<p>“Why, so are we,” said the man. “It is late for
-you children to be on the road. If I had known all
-this I would have shod your horse first. You had
-better wait for us.”</p>
-
-<p>“Oh, no,” replied Phœbe, “we have first to go to
-our aunt’s. It would frighten her greatly to have us
-come so late.”</p>
-
-<p>Roger looked down the road. It was certainly
-late in the afternoon, but the road was direct, and so
-he said good-by, and off old Dobbin trotted.</p>
-
-<p>It now seemed as if the mile out of the way had
-stretched itself to two, and it was fast growing dark
-when they reached a mile-stone three miles from
-Quainton. Little Phœbe was certain they should be
-lost riding on in the dark; but not so Roger.</p>
-
-<p>“There is no fear of that,” said he stoutly, “we
-will meet others going.”</p>
-
-<p>And Roger was right. The nearer they got to
-Quainton the greater became the throng of people,
-and they were one and all going to the Blooming.</p>
-
-<p>They came from the lanes, from over the fields,
-out of every hamlet, from every road. They were in
-wagons; they were on foot and on horse-back; two
-old ladies were in a sedan-chair, and at last they
-overtook an old man carried like “a lady to London,”
-by two great sons. As it grew dark and darker, and
-no stars came out to brighten the sky, wandering
-lights began to shine forth and torches, candles,
-lanterns, gleamed out on the roadside and flickered
-in the bushes and among the trees. There was in
-every group much talking and discussion; and it was
-easy to be seen that most of the people were of
-Caleb’s opinion, and doubted the new way of arranging
-the year; but it was equally clear that they
-meant the slip from the Glastonbury thorn to decide
-the matter for them.</p>
-
-<p>Roger kept close behind a travelling-carriage which
-was attended by two horsemen carrying torches, and
-greatly to his joy it went into Quainton and passed
-directly by his aunt’s home.</p>
-
-<p>“There is no use in stopping,” cried Phœbe, as
-the house came in sight, “it is all shut up and dark,
-and aunt Katherine has surely gone with the others.”</p>
-
-<p>This was so likely to be the case that Roger urged
-on his horse, and again overtook the carriage. When
-they reached the field in which the Thorn-tree stood
-it was already filled with flickering, moving lights,
-and was all astir with people and voices.</p>
-
-<p>Roger jumped down, lifted Phœbe, and then tying
-Dobbin to an oak sapling which still rustled with
-dried and brown leaves, he turned to his sister and,
-hand in hand, they hastened to where the Thorn was
-growing, and around which stood a large group.</p>
-
-<p>The tree was bare, leafless, and looked as if dead.</p>
-
-<p>“If that blooms to-night,” said a woman, “’twill
-be a miracle.”</p>
-
-<p>“It is always a miracle,” said a grave and sober-looking
-man by her side.</p>
-
-<p>Phœbe held closely to her brother’s hand; but the
-scene was too wonderful to promise much talking on
-her part. The darkness, the dim and shadowy trees
-and bushes, the tramping of unseen horses, the confusion
-of voices, the laughing and complaining of
-children, the moving lights, the thronging people,
-and in the centre of it all a ring of light and a dense
-group around the tree, made a wonderful picture.</p>
-
-<p>Nearer and nearer the people pressed, the parish
-beadle in advance, with his watch in his hand, a man
-by his side swinging his lantern so that the light
-would fall directly upon it. Many eyes were bent on it.</p>
-
-<p>It grew late, and the crowd became silent, gathering
-closer around the tree.</p>
-
-<p>“Twenty minutes of twelve&mdash;a quarter of twelve&mdash;five
-minutes of twelve!” proclaimed the beadle.</p>
-
-<p>The tree was still bare, and gave no signs of bloom.</p>
-
-<p>“<i>Twelve o’clock!</i>”</p>
-
-<p>And off in the distance pealed the bells, ushering
-in King George’s Christmas.</p>
-
-<p>The torches flared upon the tree; the people in
-the rear of the crowd stood on tiptoe and craned
-their necks to see the milk-white bloom.</p>
-
-<p>But the tree was silent and bare!</p>
-
-<p>King George could not be right.</p>
-
-<p>The next day aunt Katherine came out of the
-room where she was putting her bed linen away in
-the lavender-scented press.</p>
-
-<p>“The church-bells have done ringing,” she said.
-“Run, children, and see if any one has gone.”</p>
-
-<p>Off flew Phœbe with Roger after her, and when
-she reached the church-yard, the only person she
-saw was Marian Leesh, a neighbor’s child, looking
-over the wall at the minister and the clerk who were
-standing by the door. When the clergyman saw
-Phœbe he came toward her.</p>
-
-<p>“Child,” he said, “what is the meaning of this?
-Is it possible that the people refuse to keep the
-Christmas-day? Where is your family?”</p>
-
-<p>“We do not belong here,” said Phœbe; “we came
-to see the Blooming. We are at aunt Katherine’s,
-and she is looking over her linen press.”</p>
-
-<p>The minister frowned.</p>
-
-<p>“And the rest of the people?”</p>
-
-<p>“They are all at work,” cried Roger, coming up;
-“the cooper has his shop open, and the mercer is
-selling, and they have all put away the cakes and the
-mistletoe, and there is to be no Christmas until the
-true day comes.”</p>
-
-<p>“Nonsense!” cried the minister. “Jacob, bring
-me my hat!” and without taking off his gown he
-strode down into the village.</p>
-
-<p>But it was all in vain; the minister talked and
-scolded, but the people went on with their work.
-They would not go to church; they would not sing
-their carols nor hang holly and mistletoe boughs.</p>
-
-<p>“This New Way might do for lords and ladies,”
-they said, “but as for them the Christmas kept by
-their fathers, and marked by the blooming of the
-Thorn, was their Christmas,” and so the sexton
-closed the church, and the discomfited minister went
-home; and he was the only person in Quainton who
-that day ate a Christmas dinner.</p>
-
-<p>When the news came to London and to the court
-of how these people, and others in different villages,
-refused to adopt the New Style, the little fat king and
-his lords and ladies laughed; but they soon found it
-was a serious matter, and so it was ordered that the
-churches should be opened also on “old Christmas”
-and sermons preached on that day wherever the
-people wished them. And thus it was that our
-sixth of January, known as “Twelfth Night,” “little,”
-or “old Christmas,” came to be a holiday.</p>
-
-<p>But Roger and Phœbe spent one year of their
-lives without a Christmas. They returned home upon
-the twenty-sixth, and found that there the New Christmas
-had been kept; and as they could not go back to
-Quainton when the Old Christmas came, they missed
-it altogether.</p>
-
-<p>As for the Thorn-tree! Who can tell whether it
-still blooms? In the chronicles which tell of the
-Glastonbury bush, and of the Quainton excitement,
-there is no mention made of its after blooming; and
-the chances are Phœbe’s mother was a true prophet
-when she said it was possible that between the Old
-Style and the New Style the Thorn would become
-confused and bloom no more for any Christmas-day.</p>
-
-<div class="figcenter">
-<img src="images/fig119.jpg" alt="" />
-</div>
-
-
-<hr class="full x-ebookmaker-drop" />
-
-<div class="chapter">
-
-
-<h2 class="nobreak" id="c34">MIDGET’S BABY.</h2>
-</div>
-
-<hr class="r5" />
-<p class="c more">BY MARY D. BRINE.</p>
-<hr class="r6" />
-
-
-
-
-<p class="drop-cap2">“O MY SAKES!” It was early in the morning
-when Midget stood on tiptoe, peeping behind a
-large ash-barrel, and, with wide-open eyes, uttered this
-exclamation. So early that only a few enterprising
-milkmen and extra smart market-men were about the
-street, and nobody but Midget had heard the feeble
-cry which startled her and led to an inquisitive peep
-behind the barrel.</p>
-
-<p>It was in an alley-way where piles of rubbish, all
-sorts of odds and ends, and much that was impure
-and disagreeable, had it all their own way from dawn
-till night, that Midget was standing this chilly morning.
-And “O my sakes!” escaped her lips once again
-before she ventured to stop staring and begin work.
-No wonder she stared, for on the ground, surrounded
-by bits of broken crockery and discarded ale-bottles,
-half-choked with the dust of ashes, and carelessly
-wrapped in a dilapidated old shawl, a baby was lying,
-stretching little thin arms helplessly into the narrow
-space between the high brick wall and the barrel, and
-testifying by feeble wails its need of timely assistance.
-Midget was so shocked and surprised at first that she
-could only give vent to her favorite exclamation as
-above, but presently her small shoulder was pressed
-against the barrel, and after much tugging and some
-hard breathing it was shoved aside, and Midget had
-her arms around the forlorn and neglected baby in a
-moment.</p>
-
-<p>It was just at that part of the fall season when
-early mornings and evenings are chilly and suggestive
-of shivers, and baby, who might have been all night
-on the ground, was blue with cold and quite savage
-with hunger. Midget’s shawl, ragged almost as that
-which was wrapped about the baby, was made to do
-double duty, as she folded the little waif in her arms,
-and realized the important fact that she was holding
-a real, live baby.</p>
-
-<p>It was not possible to carry a bundle of wood and
-baby at the same time, so the bundle which was to
-help grandma get her cup of tea was unceremoniously
-dropped, and the little girl hurried home with her
-new-found treasure.</p>
-
-<p>While she is hastening over the pavements, her
-blue eyes dancing with joy and excitement, we may
-learn something concerning her and her rather uncomfortable
-home.</p>
-
-<p>Midget lived with her grandmother, who was both
-father and mother to the little thing who had never
-known the care or love of either parent. Her father
-had never, in his best days, been much of a man, and
-when, soon after his wife’s death, <i>he</i> was accidentally
-killed in the factory where he worked, poor little
-Midget was left totally unprovided for, and quite
-dependent, in her babyhood, upon grandma, who at
-least was able to pay the small monthly rent of the
-cellar home to which Midget was taken. The child,
-because of her small size, had earned from neighbors
-the nickname “Midget,” and had reached the age of
-eight years, still answering to the title, and almost
-forgetting her real name was Maggie. A wild, wilful,
-and not far from naughty little girl she was, but her
-heart was kindly disposed, and held a world of good
-intentions and affectionate thoughts, that somehow
-nobody, not even grandma, could often get a sight of.
-She didn’t understand why there was not a little sister
-with whom she might play all day, instead of having
-to go out early in the morning to pick up sticks and
-chips for the fire which cooked their scanty meals.</p>
-
-<p>Midget much preferred a game of “ring around a
-rosy” with the other children, properly called “Les
-Miserables,” who swarmed about the side street where
-she had lived so long, than to work for her daily
-bread and blue milk, according to granny’s directions.
-And poor old granny herself, possessing not much of
-the virtue called patience, was called upon by her
-idea of training a child the way she should go, to
-give little Midget many a “cuff on the ear,” and a
-shaking which roused all that was naughty in the
-lassie’s heart, and made the blue eyes snap very
-angrily. As for school, Midget had no time for
-education, but in some way, she, with several other
-children, had learned their letters, and could spell cat
-and dog as well as any school girl. During the day
-she earned a little by selling papers on the street, and
-yet I’m sorry to say most of her pennies went in
-sticks of candy down her little throat, unknown to
-granny. “If I only had a little sister,” she would
-think, excusing herself, “if granny would only buy
-babies, as other women do, why I’d be as good as
-anything, and help her take care of it! I would!”</p>
-
-<div class="figleft">
-<img src="images/fig120.jpg" alt="" />
-<p class="caption">“<span class="smcap">Eh! what’s that?</span>”</p>
-</div>
-
-
-<p>But granny <i>didn’t</i> buy babies, and Midget still hated
-work, and sometimes there were clouds and sometimes
-sunshine, and on this very morning when Midget
-found the baby she had been saucy to grandma, and
-grandma had boxed the little ears, and so it had begun
-a <i>very</i> cloudy day indeed.</p>
-
-<p>But we must return to Midget, who, ere this, has
-reached home.</p>
-
-<p>How glad she was, and at the same time how
-frightened, poor little Midget! What
-should she do with the baby, that was
-the question; and when at last the
-cellar was reached, and Midget laid
-her burden in grandma’s lap, she
-asked the question over again.</p>
-
-<p>“Eh! what’s this?” asked the old
-woman, lifting her hands and brows
-together, while baby, who, in all its
-life of eighteen months had never beheld
-such a queer thing as granny’s
-broad-frilled cap, opened its mouth
-and screamed a terrified answer.</p>
-
-<p>“’Tain’t only a baby, granny,” exclaimed
-Midget, patting the wee
-stranger’s hands, and trembling lest
-her grandmother should rise and drop
-it. “Only nothin’ but just a baby,
-and I’m so glad I found it, ain’t you,
-granny? ’Cause you see it’s a kind
-of sister, you know, and you won’t
-have to buy one.”</p>
-
-<p>“Glad?” repeated the old woman,
-“that I ain’t!” But the rather snappish
-answer was quite out of keeping
-with the impulsive kiss laid on the
-little one’s velvety cheek. Midget
-brightened when she saw granny do
-that.</p>
-
-<p>“I say, do you think it’s got any
-mamma, granny?” she asked.</p>
-
-<p>“<i>Did</i> have, most likely, but reckon
-her ma wa’n’t good for much,” was
-the reply, while the baby, amused
-by Midget, began to laugh.</p>
-
-<p>“I shouldn’t have thought any mother would chuck
-her baby behind a barrel,” said Midget, thoughtfully.
-Then she began to plead with her grandmother that
-it might be allowed to stay with them, promising such
-wonderful things, and such care of it, that granny,
-who loved babies, and didn’t really know but what a
-reward might be offered for the child, at last yielded,
-and promised to keep it at least a few days. And
-Midget, delighted beyond measure, seemed to feel
-two years older as she rocked the little stranger to
-sleep, and laid it in her own little straw bed. “I was
-a stranger and ye took me in,” kept somehow repeating
-itself in granny’s mind all that day. She had
-read it in her Bible long ago, and had heard it from
-the pulpit once, but never before had it come back so
-forcibly as to-day. “Well! well! The Lord will
-provide, I dare say. And goodness knows, if he
-don’t, the child will starve along with Midget and her
-old granny.”</p>
-
-<p>No advertisement appeared in reference to the lost
-baby, and at the end of a week the little one had
-grown so dear to the two who had taken her in, that
-granny decided to keep her “a <i>little</i> longer.”</p>
-
-<p>But what had come over Midget? The frowsy
-head began to look smooth as the clustering curls
-would permit, the little, active body, always bent upon
-mischief, had busied itself in new ways, and began to
-look tidy and neat as the unavoidable rags would
-allow. Hands and face were clean as soap and water
-could make them, and Midget actually kept her boots
-laced since baby’s advent into the family. Granny
-also noticed that Midget grumbled less at having to
-go out in the early dawn for sticks,&mdash;in fact, the
-grumbling in course of time ceased altogether; for
-Midget was bent upon fattening the baby and making
-it grow. And how could a baby grow fat unless she
-kept it nice and warm, and gave it plenty of food?
-Granny’s cup of tea would not do for baby, but
-Midget drank cold water most of the time, and baby
-had the blue milk all to her hungry, healthy little self.</p>
-
-<p>By-and-by, after the little one had been in her new
-home about three weeks, and all the children had
-kissed it and admired it to their hearts’ content, and
-all the old crones of the neighborhood had speculated
-as to how granny would be able to provide for it,
-Midget found pleasant work to do in selling cut
-flowers on the street for a florist near by. Such an
-important little Midget had never before been heard
-of in that neighborhood, and it was wonderful how
-long it had been since granny had found it necessary
-to punish her. No more saucy words, or frowns on
-the child-face, because there was baby always watching
-her little Midget-mamma with wide eyes, and once,
-just once, Midget saw the baby kick out its tiny foot
-just as she had naughtily kicked a little playmate who
-ventured to provoke her anger. And as Midget was
-determined <i>her</i> baby should excel all others, of course
-she was careful of her influence. Then, too, she
-continued to be neat and tidy, lest the baby might
-turn her sweet face away when a kiss was wanted,
-and that would almost have broken Midget’s heart.</p>
-
-<p>The mornings were daily growing colder, and our
-little girl’s shawl grew no thicker or warmer, sad to
-say, as she started early each day for the flower-stand
-on Broadway. But
-Midget kept up a
-brave heart, and was
-glad for the little custom
-she found. How
-closely she stuck to
-business, and how
-patiently she looked
-forward to the hour
-when, released from
-duty, she would
-scamper home for a
-frolic with baby, we
-have neither time nor
-space to describe minutely,
-but we may
-say that with this
-new happiness in her
-heart, and with the
-importance of taking
-good care of her
-baby constantly in
-her mind, no wonder
-our little Midget
-grew gentle and
-good, and found the
-sunshine oftener than
-she used to.</p>
-
-<div class="figright">
-<img src="images/fig121.jpg" alt="" />
-<p class="caption">“<span class="smcap">Midget and her Baby.</span>”</p>
-</div>
-
-<p>And all this time
-the wee stranger
-grew pretty and strong, and granny began to fear lest
-somebody should claim this bright treasure, which
-made the old cellar so happy a place, despite its
-scanty furniture and lack of home comfort. But nobody
-came for it, and finally the winter had slipped
-by and spring made its appearance.</p>
-
-<p>Midget had laid up a few dollars&mdash;think of it,
-children who read this, a few dollars! probably the
-sum that some of you spend in candy and toys during
-one day and think nothing of&mdash;for a new dress for
-baby and some trifles for granny and herself. She
-was eight years old, old enough to feel very grand
-and important when planning her shopping expedition;
-and indeed, the little girl sadly needed something to
-wear, if she would still make herself bright and
-attractive to baby.</p>
-
-<p>When the days grew warm she used to take her
-baby to the flower-stand, and people passing paused
-often, as well to admire this bright little nurse and
-her charge as to purchase the dainty blossoms offered
-for sale. Then in an hour or so granny would come
-for the baby, and, taking her home, leave the small
-flower vender free to attend to business.</p>
-
-<p>Didn’t Midget get tired of selling her flowers all
-day on the street? O yes, very tired; but the day’s
-hard work only made her evenings merrier; and the
-bed-time frolics with baby made Midget grow fat
-from laughing, if the old adage is true, “Laugh and
-grow fat.” There had been so many bright days, in
-Midget’s opinion, since baby came; that the little girl
-quite forgot that there were such thing as clouds.
-And so one day, when she went home, it gave her a
-dreadful shock to find poor old granny faint and ill
-upon the low bed, and two of the neighbors watching
-beside her.</p>
-
-<p>Midget looked around. Where was her baby?
-There was granny, so white, and grown so suddenly
-older than Midget had ever noticed before, but baby
-was crying in the arms of a girl-neighbor, who had
-volunteered to “kape the spalpeen quiet” till Midget’s
-return.</p>
-
-<p>It didn’t take our little mother a minute to secure
-within her own tender arms the frightened baby, and
-then Midget sat patiently down beside granny, who
-neither stirred nor opened her dim eyes until midnight.
-If I had time I could tell you how, after days of
-watching and sadness, grandma made Midget understand
-that her sickness could not be cured on earth.
-But the end came, after all, too suddenly for little
-Midget’s comprehension, and when the kind neighbors
-had laid the old woman away, to rest forever from
-labor, our little heroine had only her laughing, crowing
-baby to comfort and cheer her.</p>
-
-<p>She went to live with a kind woman who had
-known granny for years, and was but little better off
-in worldly goods than the old grandmother had been.
-Still, Midget could not starve; and she and her baby
-were made welcome in the new home. And after
-that she took the little one with her to the flower-stand,
-and brought her home at noon herself each
-day for two weeks.</p>
-
-<p>And then another thing happened, which, for a
-brief time, almost broke the child’s heart.</p>
-
-<p>It was a beautiful day late in the summer, and
-baby, a big, fat girl, was crowing and laughing in
-Midget’s lap, when a gentleman paused to buy flowers.
-While Midget was giving him change baby reached
-out her hand to touch the gentleman’s cane, and he
-looked at the baby face first with indifference, then
-more earnestly, and finally with a startled look on his
-own face which puzzled Midget.</p>
-
-<p>Then he questioned her about the child, and asked
-if it had, under the soft golden curls, on the back of
-the neck, a small red mark.</p>
-
-<p>Midget innocently replied: “O, I’ve seen it whenever
-I’ve dressed my baby; why, sir?”</p>
-
-<p>Poor little Midget! Little she knew that with her
-own lips she was giving away her baby, for the gentleman,
-raising the curls that fell about the fat little
-neck, saw himself the mark which gave him back his
-own lost child.</p>
-
-<p>It would be too long a story to relate how, just as
-he and his wife, so long ago, were going on board a
-European steamer, followed by nurse and baby, the
-nurse, carrying out a well-laid plot, slipped behind
-and sold for a large sum (promised) her little charge
-to an accomplice, who hoped to claim the reward
-which he thought would be offered, when, too late,
-the child’s loss was discovered; and, from that day
-until now, both parents had mourned for their baby.
-The nurse, failing to receive her promised share of
-money, worried and frightened the accomplice until
-he deserted the baby, and when the nurse would have
-sought it, Midget had taken her treasure home. The
-reward was offered, but, as it happened, granny had
-not seen it, and thus the child of aristocratic birth
-became indebted for life to Midget’s care.</p>
-
-<p>All this the gentleman explained afterwards to
-Midget, after he had bidden her return to the florist
-her flowers and come with him. And then, in the
-presence of baby May’s mother Midget told her story,
-with many sobs and tears.</p>
-
-<p>But the sunshine was coming to our heroine again,&mdash;the
-clouds were only for a little while. And when
-Mr. and Mrs. &mdash;&mdash; engaged at a good price the services
-of faithful Midget, as nurse for the baby she loved, and
-took both baby and Midget away to the beautiful
-country-house, where were birds and flowers and
-hanging leaves and grasses, which made the fall so
-cheery a season as it never had been for Midget
-before&mdash;why, then, the little girl wondered if it were
-not all a dream, and if the beautiful house and
-charming meadows would not suddenly change into
-dismal streets and old cellars and she a poor little
-flower-merchant again.</p>
-
-<p>Little Midget is still nurse to baby May, still a
-bright, tidy, well-shod little girl, and best of all, baby
-still calls her “sissy Mid’it” and loves her as dearly
-as when, in the old times, Midget fed her on blue
-milk and crackers.</p>
-<hr class="full x-ebookmaker-drop" />
-
-<div class="chapter">
-
-
-<h2 class="nobreak" id="c35">A NOCTURNAL LUNCH, AND ITS CONSEQUENCES.</h2>
-</div>
-
-<hr class="r5" />
-<p class="c more">BY LILY J. CHUTE.</p>
-<hr class="r6" />
-
-
-
-
-<p class="drop-cap">THERE was one pet, secret fault which was the
-delight of Tot Sheldon’s heart, and that was the
-eating, at night, after going to bed of such goodies
-as she could previously lay her mischievous little
-hands on.</p>
-
-<p>Anything whatever to eat between the five o’clock
-<span class="allsmcap">P. M.</span> supper and the seven o’clock <span class="allsmcap">A. M.</span> breakfast
-was a forbidden luxury to the Sheldon children, for
-their good parents considered it altogether an unwholesome
-habit for little ones to give their stomachs
-work for the night. It was only adults, in their
-opinion, who might indulge themselves in rosy-cheeked
-apples, tempting nuts, or other dainties, in
-the long winter evenings, with impunity. To be sure,
-these little treats, seeming doubly delicious to the
-watering mouths of the children because forbidden
-them, were only brought forth after the clock had
-struck eight&mdash;the bed-hour of the youthful Sheldons,
-but, by some mysterious instinct which children
-often possess, they knew well enough the night
-custom of their elders, and were ambitious to grow
-up, that they, too, might not go to bed hungry.</p>
-
-<p>For it was not seldom the case that they were, notwithstanding
-their hearty suppers of bread and milk,
-and such other food as was supposed to be harmless
-to the youthful digestion, really hungry before they
-fell to sleep.</p>
-
-<p>Little Tot, however, had a special antipathy to
-hunger, either real or imaginary, and a similar love,
-as has been said, for secret nocturnal feasts. The
-other children being boys, Tot had a cunning little
-bed-room all to herself, and so could indulge her
-eccentric appetite without much fear of disturbance.
-To be sure, she often felt certain guilty qualms of
-conscience, when her mother would look into her
-room to kiss her good-night, and she feigned sleep,
-while clutching tightly her prize beneath her pillow.
-Crumbs of gingerbread or cracker would have betrayed
-her the next day, but Tot had been brought
-up to take care of her own mite of a room.</p>
-
-<p>She wasn’t afraid of nightmares. Not Tot! She
-had eaten too many stolen suppers, and passed
-through the ordeal unharmed, to be afraid of any
-such bugbears, as she termed them. Neither of illness,
-for she considered her little stomach to be quite
-equal to that of any feather-bearing ostrich that ever
-stalked.</p>
-
-<p>Sometimes it was a rosy baldwin or a brown russet
-apple, a juicy pear, or bit of cake, or even a “cent’s
-worth” of candy, that found its way to Tot’s chamber.
-But one night it was a whole pint of roasted
-chestnuts which her uncle Harry had given her as he
-met her coming from school, and which she had
-hoarded away, beneath the snowy sheets of her bed,
-till night.</p>
-
-<p>For once Tot Sheldon was not unwilling to go to
-bed, a most remarkable occurrence. She said her
-good-nights with such cheerfulness, and started off
-with such alacrity that, unmindful of the many bed-times
-when the contrary had been true of her behavior,
-Mr. Sheldon said something, in a satisfied
-tone, about “the good effect of early training,” etc.</p>
-
-<p>Chestnuts were Tot’s special delight,&mdash;and <i>roasted</i>
-chestnuts!</p>
-
-<p>How she longed to get at them, that she might release
-the mealy meat, white and fine almost as flour,
-from the bursting brown shells, and revel in the
-peculiar, delicious flavor which she knew and loved
-so well!</p>
-
-<p>Having undressed and ensconced herself in her
-cosey little bed, she waited with impatience for her
-mother’s nightly visit. She daren’t eat any of the
-nuts before, for fear something of the nutty aroma
-might be in her breath.</p>
-
-<p>But she forgot that roasted chestnuts have a fragrance
-of their own, even while yet in their shells,
-and she trembled with fear least she should lose her
-treasures, when her mother, after kissing her, said
-kindly:</p>
-
-<p>“You haven’t been eating chestnuts, have you,
-Tot? It seems as though I smelled them.”</p>
-
-<p>“No, marm,” replied naughty, trembling Tot.</p>
-
-<p>“That’s right, for you’d be sure to have dreadful
-nightmares,” said Mrs. Sheldon, as she bade her
-child good-night, and closed the door, distrusting the
-evidence of her own keen sense of smell.</p>
-
-<p>“Well, anyway,” said Tot to herself, as her
-mother’s footsteps died away, “I hadn’t eaten any,
-so I didn’t tell a lie.”</p>
-
-<p>She thought the matter over a moment, thinking of
-the nightmares of which she had been so often told,
-and half resolving to be so good a girl as not to eat
-any of the nuts; but in the midst of her resolution
-her hand strayed beneath her pillow, and into a
-paper-bag, and came out with a splendid great chestnut,
-which she had no sooner tasted than she sat up
-in bed, and with the bag in her lap began a feast.</p>
-
-<p>The room was not very dark, for the light from the
-hall burner streamed through the transom over her
-door; and, if it had been pitch dark, Tot had no fear
-of it, for she had never been frightened with any of
-the silly, wicked stories often told to children.</p>
-
-<p>So she crunched away on the delicious nuts until
-they were about half gone, and then stopped suddenly
-with a sense of fear lest she had eaten too
-many, rolled the bag carefully about the rest, put
-them under her pillow, and soon dozed off to sleep.</p>
-
-<p>But she didn’t sleep as soundly as usual, and woke
-up sometime in the night, when the hall-light had
-been put out, and it was perfectly dark. Her hand
-was tightly grasping the bag of nuts, and as she
-didn’t go at once to sleep, she thought she would try
-just one more,&mdash;which resulted in her again sitting
-up in bed, and finishing the pint of roasted chestnuts
-in the dark.</p>
-
-<div class="figright">
-<img src="images/fig122.jpg" alt="" />
-<p class="caption">“<span class="smcap">She sat up in bed, and began a feast.</span>”</p>
-</div>
-
-<p>That was a fearful infliction for Tot’s little stomach,
-strong as it was naturally, and although she
-didn’t have any nightmares&mdash;that she could remember,
-at least&mdash;she woke reluctantly in the morning,
-to a sense that Bridget was knocking loudly on her
-door, and telling her that breakfast was over, and it
-was very late.</p>
-
-<p>At first she felt obstinate, and declared that she
-wouldn’t get up, but would go to sleep again; then a
-sudden guilty consciousness of the paper-bag full of
-the husks of a pint of chestnuts came to her mind;
-and the fear least somebody should come into the
-room and discover them made her turn hastily out of
-bed and begin to dress.</p>
-
-<p>But, as the old saying goes, she got out “the
-wrong side of the bed” that morning, and everything
-was troublesome. Never had Tot experienced so
-much trouble with every article of clothing, with her
-ablutions, with her hair; and at last she nearly left
-the room without her bag of shells, which she had
-laid on a chair while making the bed, which she
-dared not leave unmade, although there was no time,
-this morning, for it to air first.</p>
-
-<p>But cramming the shells into her pocket, together
-with her pocket-handkerchief, Tot started down-stairs,
-regardless of such faults in her toilet, as that her
-petticoat was wrong side out, her dress buttoned “up
-garret and down cellar,” her hair parted almost as
-much on the side as a boy’s, while her curls, usually
-so pretty, were mere stringlets.</p>
-
-<p>When she reached the sitting-room, the clock
-pointed to quarter before nine, and as there was no
-time for her to eat the breakfast which had been
-saved for her, she threw on her sack and hat, seized
-her books, and started for school.</p>
-
-<p>The rule of the school was that each pupil must be
-in his or her seat at five minutes before nine, and as
-Tot was one of the best scholars, and very ambitious,
-she was disgusted to find that all kinds of street
-obstructions concurred to belate her.</p>
-
-<p>She came within a hair’s breadth of being run over
-by one desperate driver, and was only rescued by a
-brave policeman who pulled her from the tangle of
-horses and teams, but he hurt her arm severely by
-his grasp. Indeed, poor Tot afterward found it was
-black and blue.</p>
-
-<p>Then she fell down in the mud and made a sorry
-looking spectacle of both herself and her books.</p>
-
-<p>So that when she arrived at school, only to find the
-doors closed for the morning prayer, she was about
-as thoroughly cross as could well be imagined.</p>
-
-<p>A reproof from her teacher, who was vexed that
-his best pupil should set such an example of tardiness,
-exasperated Tot into an ugly obstinate resolve
-to say nothing of the accidents by which she was
-belated. So she took her seat without a word, and
-looked for her French grammar, to study the lesson
-which was soon to be called for.</p>
-
-<p>But she couldn’t find it, and then she remembered
-laying it apart from the other books, the previous
-evening, and that it was thus left at home.</p>
-
-<p>Too angry still with the teacher, whom she had
-always before liked, to tell him of the blunder, Tot
-turned to her desk-mate and broke another rule, by
-asking the loan of the French grammar which the
-latter was not using.</p>
-
-<p>But the master’s eye was on her.</p>
-
-<p>“Miss Sheldon, you were whispering! Take a
-misdemeanor!”</p>
-
-<p>Tot did not answer, and choked down the rising
-sobs. A “misdemeanor” was the blackest of black
-marks, and never before had she received one.</p>
-
-<p>Some of her friends among the pupils looked at
-her sympathizingly, but there were those who, always
-envious of the more studious and obedient of their
-number, showed their spiteful delight at her fall.</p>
-
-<p>Of course she failed in her French, and lost her
-high place in the class, and finally, when a stinging
-and almost unjust rebuke came from the teacher,
-poor Tot could stand it no longer, and bursting into
-tears she hastily pulled her handkerchief from her
-pocket, when, with it, out flew the forgotten chestnut-shells
-all over the room!</p>
-
-<p>Into the master’s very face and eyes they went,
-and he, half blinded, and not fully realizing how it
-happened, told Tot that she needn’t stay at school
-any longer unless she could behave better.</p>
-
-<p>Out of temper from the beginning, angered beyond
-measure at what she considered injustice, and maddened
-still more by the shout of laughter that went
-up from the school at the episode of the nut-shells,
-Tot defiantly replied:</p>
-
-<p>“Then I’ll go home, and never enter this hateful
-old place again as long as I live&mdash;<i>never</i>!”</p>
-
-<p>“Miss Sheldon, you will repent this. Miss Mayfair
-will accompany you to your mother at once, and
-will take with her your discharge from this school.
-Go to the dressing-room. Your books will be sent to
-you to-night.”</p>
-
-<p>With flushed face and quickly beating heart, Tot
-left the school-room, put on her things, and started
-for home.</p>
-
-<p>Had not her companion been with her, it is possible
-that she would have made some truant attempt to
-avoid meeting her parents’ eyes.</p>
-
-<p>It was a little strange that Nettie Mayfair, her own
-particular friend, should have been selected as her
-companion. But so it was, and, as soon as they
-were out of the building, Nettie exclaimed in friendly
-but annoyed tones:</p>
-
-<p>“Why, Tot Sheldon, how <i>could</i> you!”</p>
-
-<p>“<i>I!</i>” repeated Tot, her anger rising toward the
-very one to whom she had meant to pour out all her
-griefs, “how could <i>I</i>? Why, I didn’t do anything&mdash;it
-was all that mean old Mr. Stimpson! I never saw
-such an abominable man in my life!”</p>
-
-<p>“Oh, Tot!” began Nettie indignantly, “you know
-he has always been as good as&mdash;”</p>
-
-<p>“No, he hasn’t either, Net Mayfair&mdash;and if you
-stand up for him, you’re just as bad as he, a mean
-hateful girl&mdash;<i>so</i>!”</p>
-
-<p>“I should think you’d be ashamed of yourself, you
-spiteful girl,” cried Nettie, “I don’t see how I ever
-came to like you.”</p>
-
-<p>“And <i>I</i> never did like <i>you</i>” retorted Tot, “though
-I was fool enough to think I did! I’ll never speak
-to you again!”</p>
-
-<p>“Nor I to you, so long as I live!” was Nettie’s
-reply.</p>
-
-<p>Arrived at home at last, the message and accompanying
-discharge from Mr. Stimpson was read by
-Mrs. Sheldon, who, full of sorrow and almost in tears,
-told her daughter to go to her chamber and remain
-till her father should come home, and they could
-decide what should be done with her.</p>
-
-<p>The key was turned that made Tot a prisoner in
-her own little bed-room, and here she remained
-through the long hours of the day without hearing a
-word or a step near her door. No voice came to her
-longing ears from parent or brother; no food to eat,
-and no books to read,&mdash;nothing to do but to think.</p>
-
-<p>What a condition was she in indeed! Discharged
-in disgrace from the school she loved; under the
-lasting ban of the displeasure of the master she had
-always so much respected; the friendship with her
-own Nettie utterly broken; and a prisoner in her
-room, utterly uncertain what the future might be to
-which her parents would consign her.</p>
-
-<p>The twilight darkened, and night came on. The
-hall gas was not lit, and still no sound came to her.
-All was silent as the grave.</p>
-
-<p>At last, fearing and trembling, poor little Tot undressed
-and crept into bed, where she lay for a long
-time unable to go to sleep, the bed seeming as if
-lined with thorns.</p>
-
-<p>But at last she slept so soundly, that she was only
-awakened by her mother’s voice, close to her face,
-saying in its kindest and sweetest tones:</p>
-
-<p>“Why, Tot, my darling, what is the matter? Why
-are you so flushed and restless?”</p>
-
-<p>In utter delight at the dear sound of her mother’s
-voice so gentle and kind, Tot sprang out of bed
-when her mother exclaimed, half laughing and halt
-in amazement:</p>
-
-<p>“Bless the child! I don’t wonder you were restless!
-Why, you’ve been sleeping on a bed of chestnut-shells!
-But, oh! you naughty girl, you told me
-last night you hadn’t been eating chestnuts!”</p>
-
-<p>The laugh had left her mother’s voice, and it was
-sad but yet tender, when Tot exclaimed in surprise:</p>
-
-<p>“Last night! wasn’t it night before last? What
-day is this, mamma?”</p>
-
-<p>“Tuesday, of course,&mdash;what do you mean?”</p>
-
-<p>“I thought it was Wednesday, and oh! such
-dreadful things happened yesterday!” and Tot threw
-herself on her mother’s bosom, and burst into sobs.</p>
-
-<p>“Oh&mdash;I see, my dear,” said Mrs. Sheldon, tenderly
-stroking her child’s tumbled curls, “<i>you’ve had
-your nightmare!</i> But don’t cry, for nothing really
-dreadful has happened, except that I’m afraid my
-little girl told her mother a wrong story last night.”</p>
-
-<p>“Oh, no, I didn’t, mamma&mdash;or, at least I thought
-I didn’t; for I hadn’t eaten a single nut when you
-asked me, but ate them afterwards;&mdash;but, oh! I’ll
-never do it again in the world, if you’ll forgive me.”</p>
-
-<p>The forgiveness was freely granted, when the story
-of a day’s troubles which had been crowded into an
-hour’s disturbed slumber, had been related, and Tot
-in the neatest of toilets and with the freshest curls,
-ate her breakfast, and, without forgetting to take her
-French grammar, went off to school. She could
-hardly get it out of her head all day long, that she
-was in disgrace, but her lessons went off well, Mr.
-Stimpson was as kind as ever, and Nettie Mayfair
-was as loving as a bosom-friend could possibly be.</p>
-
-<p>Tot’s strong digestive organs had done the heavy
-work assigned them by their reckless little mistress,
-but they had given her a foretaste of what might happen
-in reality, were she to grow dyspeptic and miserable,
-through abusing them. In her unrest, she had
-turned over her pillow to find a cool spot for her
-head, and spilt the shells from their bag into the bed.</p>
-
-<p>One good lesson was taught by the nightmare,
-however, to the mother as well as the child, for thereafter,
-some light refreshment, as a slice of light plain
-cake and a glass of milk, was allowed each child of
-the Sheldon family, an hour before he or she went to
-bed, and thus the temptation to recur to her old
-habit never overcame Tot’s resolution to eat no
-more private lunches.</p>
-
-<div class="figcenter">
-<img src="images/fig123.jpg" alt="" />
-<p class="caption">DAISY’S SURPRISE.</p>
-</div>
-
-
-<hr class="full x-ebookmaker-drop" />
-
-<div class="chapter">
-
-
-<h2 class="nobreak" id="c36">LULU’S PETS.</h2>
-</div>
-
-<hr class="r5" />
-<p class="c more">BY MARY STANDISH ROBINSON.</p>
-<hr class="r6" />
-
-
-
-
-<p class="drop-cap">FIRST, there was Tom Doddles; and he was a
-bother. Grandma said so, when she found him
-snugly curled up in her favorite arm-chair, grandpa
-stumbled over him in the doorway, and sister Caroline
-declared that “the little plague <i>shouldn’t</i> go with her
-when she went to take her music lessons.” Don’t
-imagine that Tom Doddles cared for music; O, not
-at all; he plainly said so when he heard any, by a
-series of howls, and little, jerky barks.</p>
-
-<p>But he liked to drive out in the phaeton, and stand
-up with his fore-paws on the dash-board, and look at
-the horse, with the most solemn air imaginable.</p>
-
-<p>That is, he would do so for a short distance, until
-thinking, doubtless, that the wise traveler should
-improve all opportunities, he would dash down and
-away for a nearer inspection of bird or butterfly.
-And once he had too much curiosity about a bee;
-after that, he thought bees were rather disagreeable,
-and quite ignored their society.</p>
-
-<p>And you see, scrambling through sand-heaps, and
-splashing through mud-puddles, was apt to disarrange
-his toilet. And he didn’t care in the least, but would
-jump back again in a social manner, that was very
-distressing to Caroline.</p>
-
-<p>She did not like to have her clean frocks “mussed”
-and disfigured by mud, and ever so many little black
-and white hairs.</p>
-
-<p>But what could she do? What would you do, if
-you lived in the country, and your little sister had a
-little pet dog that wanted to go to town whenever you
-did? Would you let him go? And if he stood up
-on his hind legs, as straight as a soldier, and begged,
-“jess as hard,” as his little mistress said, while she
-kissed and coaxed for him, could you refuse?</p>
-
-<p>Caroline could not, for a long time; but one day
-she drove off, leaving Lulu and Tom Doddles wailing
-together, while she flourished the whip to keep him
-at a distance.</p>
-
-<p>His non-attendance was such a relief and comfort
-generally, that she decided to leave him at home in
-future; and for several weeks poor Tommy supplicated
-in vain.</p>
-
-<p>At last, when the phaeton and little gray pony
-came around to the door, Tom was invisible.</p>
-
-<p>Cad laughed as she took the reins.</p>
-
-<p>“Why, Tom has given it up,” she said, “poor little
-fellow! How he did enjoy going; but he was a nuisance,
-and I’m glad if he’s learned better.”</p>
-
-<p>“Come, Fannie,” to the friend who was going with
-her, and away they went, as gayly as if there were no
-little dogs breaking their hearts at home.</p>
-
-<p>However, that day, <i>the</i> little dog was otherwise
-engaged. You’ll laugh to hear that when they were
-about two miles from home, the merry chatter of the
-girls was broken by a tiny, smothered bow-wow, very
-much like a suppressed sneeze in church.</p>
-
-<p>“O!”</p>
-
-<p>“What is that?” chorused the girls.</p>
-
-<p>Then Cad jumped, and almost let the gray pony
-have his own way.</p>
-
-<p>For something under the seat was tickling her; and
-before she could look for the cause, out popped the
-head of Thomas Doddles, Esq., who proceeded to
-look serenely about him, as if conscious of a success
-that no one could dispute.</p>
-
-<p>“The cunning darling!” said Fannie, laughing so
-that she could not sit up straight.</p>
-
-<p>“O you scamp!” cried Cad. “I’d throw him away
-if ’twere not for Luly.”</p>
-
-<p>“Now sir!” said she, addressing him with great
-severity, “<i>don’t you dare</i> to jump out of this carriage
-to-day.”</p>
-
-<p>But you’ll not be surprised to learn that he did so
-the very next moment. How could he help it, when
-a chipmunk chattered a challenge for a race to the
-nearest tree?</p>
-
-<p>Tom lost, and nearly dislocated his neck by looking
-up so much, and barking at the same time.</p>
-
-<p>As for the chipmunk, not a walnut cared he; and
-what he chippered back might mean:</p>
-
-<p>“You’re smart, Mr. Dog, but, smart as you are you
-can’t catch me!”</p>
-
-<p>Well, Tom Doddles was a bother! But he was a
-cunning one, and between the scoldings and the
-pettings that he received he was as spoiled as a
-doggie could be.</p>
-
-<p>But we all felt bad when a careless man shot him
-by mistake.</p>
-
-<p>And Lulu mourned so much that Aunt Sarah, after
-talking with mamma and grandma, went away one
-afternoon, and returned at night with a large box,
-about which she was as mysterious as a fairy godmother.</p>
-
-<p>Lulu knew from experience that Aunt Sarah’s
-mysteries always meant something delightful; and
-after a little teasing about what <i>was</i> in the big wooden
-box, she put two kisses on auntie’s cheek, and said
-she would go to bed, and “find it all out in a dream.”</p>
-
-<p>But she didn’t, after all. She was awakened the
-next morning by a smart little tap that was <i>not</i> a kiss,
-on her own round, pinkie-pearly cheek.</p>
-
-<p>And there was such a queer little munchy noise
-going on!</p>
-
-<p>The blue eyes opened; languidly at first, but they
-were wide and bright in an instant, for there was
-something curious for them to see. First, a heap of
-walnuts lying on her bed. Where did <i>they</i> come from?
-Then, sitting up in the midst of them, and working
-away like a complete little nut-cracker, was the most
-charming gray squirrel that anybody ever saw.</p>
-
-<p>“O!” exclaimed Lulu. “Why!! Where <i>did</i> you
-come from, Beauty?”</p>
-
-<p>For all answer, Gray-Coat tossed her an empty
-walnut-shell, and cracked an uncommonly large one
-on the spot, just to show her how well he could do it.</p>
-
-<p>Lulu picked up a piece of shell from the pillow.
-“That’s what struck me on the cheek,” she said,
-jumping up. “I know now! he was in Aunt Saty’s
-box, and I guess he’s all mine. Where’s auntie?
-Where <i>is</i> mamma?</p>
-
-<p>“O! O! O! What is this here? A little silver
-house, true’s I live.”</p>
-
-<p>By this time the little girl was dancing around the
-room, as if she were practising for a ballet performance.
-Grandma, mamma and Aunt Sarah appeared
-in the door-way, and grandpa peeped in, too.</p>
-
-<p>“What’s going on here?” asked he.</p>
-
-<p>“O, I never!” said Lulu, hugging first one and
-then the other. “I know all ’bout it, auntie. <i>You</i>
-did it, an’ I think he’s lovely, an’ what’s his name, an’
-he’s mine for always, ain’t he?”</p>
-
-<p>“His name is Dick,” said auntie.</p>
-
-<p>“Dickon Gray,” suggested mamma, “and I hope
-that Pussy will not eat him.”</p>
-
-<p>“We must watch him,” said grandma.</p>
-
-<p>And they did, very carefully at first. But surely,
-that squirrel and cat were predestined friends; for
-they would frolic and play together like two kittens.</p>
-
-<p>And when puss was in extra good humor she would
-treat Dickon to a ride on her back.</p>
-
-<p>“Arrah,” said Robert, the hired man, “an’ did ye
-iver say the loike o’ that, now? It bates the li-in an’
-the lamb, I’m thinkin’.”</p>
-
-<p>Yes, and puss evidently had much respect for
-Dick’s judgment; because, upon her return from
-market she often brought a tender mouse-steak for
-his inspection.</p>
-
-<p>I suppose you would like to know if Dickon lived
-in his little house? It was of tin, and so new and
-bright that it did look like silver. He had a nice
-bed made of cotton wool, in the upper story. But
-did he sleep in it? Well&mdash;sometimes. One morning
-he was not there; and after much vain searching
-Lulu was sure that he was dead&mdash;had run away&mdash;been
-stolen&mdash;the cat had eaten him.</p>
-
-<p>And she was dolefully sobbing for each separate
-fate, when Robert opened the kitchen door and said,
-“Ah, come ’ere now, Miss Luly! an’ ye’ll laugh a
-laugh as big as Tim Toole’s.”</p>
-
-<p>Robert was a favorite with Lulu, and she followed
-him up-stairs into the grain-chamber, sobbing and
-sighing as she went.</p>
-
-<p>He swung her up in his strong arms, over the great
-oat-bin, with, “An’ only say there, now, Miss Luly!”</p>
-
-<p>And then, how she <i>did</i> laugh! for there was the
-darling, eating his way out of the oats, as if his very
-life depended upon it.</p>
-
-<p>Didn’t she hug him, though! He was so tame
-that she could handle and fondle him without fear of
-being bitten; but this time her joy made her squeeze
-him <i>so</i> close that he suddenly darted up, and sliced a
-tiny bit of skin from the tip of her saucy little nose.</p>
-
-<p>“Euh!” cried Lulu, “mamma! Dick’s bit my
-nose! I ’fraid he’s all spoiled it! What <i>shall</i> I do?”</p>
-
-<p>Mamma was frightened, I assure you, and ran to
-examine her little girl.</p>
-
-<p>Dick repented the moment he did this naughty
-thing; and tucked his head under Lulu’s arm while
-he trembled violently.</p>
-
-<p>“It’s nothing serious, but he must be whipped,”
-said mamma.</p>
-
-<p>“O no! please don’t whip him,” said Lulu. “His
-little heart beats so fas’ now I’m ’fraid ’twill break.”</p>
-
-<p>“’Twas only a love-pat,” said grandpa, “I guess he
-didn’t mean to.”</p>
-
-<p>“He’ll bite harder next time if he is not properly
-punished,” said mamma, firmly, and she shut him in
-his cage, and gave him three or four strokes with a
-small switch. Then he was left alone in disgrace.</p>
-
-<p>But it was not long before Lulu stole in, and gave
-him a lump of sugar that she had coaxed from
-grandma.</p>
-
-<p>“Don’t you mind it, Dicky,” said she, kissing him
-through the prison-bars. “I love you just as much’s
-ever, and to-morrow you shall come out again.”</p>
-
-<p>Dick nibbled part of the sugar, and slyly tucked
-away the rest in a corner. I dare say he was thinking
-of next winter; just as housekeepers are when they
-put up the sweetmeats that we all like so well.</p>
-
-<p>Then he remembered that he had a carriage at
-command, and bowled away in his wheel at a rapid
-pace; only he never arrived anywhere, you know, and
-that must have puzzled him sorely.</p>
-
-<p>So Lulu went on loving him more and more every
-day, until Tom Doddles was almost forgotten.</p>
-
-<p>Dolls were neglected, and sometimes abused; for
-was not Miss Patty Primrose (who only a year ago
-had been “the beautifulest darling”), found lying on
-the hard, cold floor, with her clothing in wild
-disorder?</p>
-
-<p>Lulu well knew that Miss Patty had been snugly
-tucked up in a cradle-bed, and put by on a high
-shelf. How came she down there in this plight?</p>
-
-<p>Lulu looked up at the cradle, and saw a pair of
-very bright, sprite-y eyes peering out of it. Behold!
-Master Dick had turned out poor dolly, and was lying
-flat on his stomach in the little bed, using his own
-silver-gray tail for a blanket.</p>
-
-<p>It grieves me; but as a faithful historian I must relate
-that a sad day finally came, when dear Dickon was
-missing; and alas! this time, he could not be found.</p>
-
-<p>There was no clue to his fate.</p>
-
-<p>Perhaps the voices of the woods had called him
-back to his early home. Perhaps he had been enticed
-away.</p>
-
-<p>No one knew, but in a few days they realized that
-he had gone “for always,” as Lulu said, and they
-spoke of getting another one for her.</p>
-
-<p>But she did not want it.</p>
-
-<p>“I would rather ’member my own p’ecious Dicky,”
-she said, “than to have fifty ‘other ones,’ They
-could never be the same, and would only make me
-think that p’r’aps he was mis’able somewhere while
-they was havin’ a good time.”</p>
-<hr class="full x-ebookmaker-drop" />
-
-
-<p class="c">DAYS OF THE WEEK.</p>
-
-
-
-<ul>
-<li><span class="smcap">Sunday.</span>&mdash;Day of the Sun.</li>
-
-<li><span class="smcap">Monday.</span>&mdash;Day of the Moon.</li>
-
-<li><span class="smcap">Tuesday.</span>&mdash;Day of Tuisco, the Scandinavian god of war.</li>
-
-<li><span class="smcap">Wednesday.</span>&mdash;Day of the Scandinavian god Wodin, or Odin.</li>
-
-<li><span class="smcap">Thursday.</span>&mdash;Day of the Scandinavian god Thor, the god of thunder.</li>
-
-<li><span class="smcap">Friday.</span>&mdash;Day of the Anglo-Saxon goddess Freya.</li>
-
-<li><span class="smcap">Saturday.</span>&mdash;Day of the Norse god Sæter.</li>
-</ul>
-<hr class="full x-ebookmaker-drop" />
-
-<div class="chapter">
-
-<div class="figcenter" id="c37">
-<img src="images/fig124.jpg" alt="" />
-</div>
-
-
-<h2 class="nobreak">WHAT JANET DID WITH HER CHRISTMAS PRESENT.</h2>
-</div>
-
-
-
-<hr class="r5" />
-<p class="c more">BY L. J. L.</p>
-<hr class="r6" />
-
-
-
-
-<p class="drop-cap">WHEN Janet awoke on Christmas morning and
-saw her stocking, which had been placed
-most invitingly beside the chimney the night before,
-hanging as limp and apparently as empty as at the
-moment of leaving it there, she was not a little astonished
-as well as grieved at the thought that Santa
-Claus had passed her by.</p>
-
-<p>This was not strange, for such a thing had never
-happened before; but after rubbing her eyes to make
-sure of being awake, she looked again and was so
-positive it had occurred now, notwithstanding there
-was no reason to expect it, that when she arose to
-prepare for breakfast she did not take the pains to so
-much as peep into her stocking to verify her surmises.</p>
-
-<p>And there is no telling when she would have done
-so had not her pride whispered, as she was about to
-leave the room, that it would be well to put the
-empty stocking out of sight, and thus hide from
-others the evidence of her disappointment.</p>
-
-<p>But the moment she laid her hand upon it for this
-purpose she discovered that she had been laboring
-under a great mistake. It was not empty. Concealed
-in a fold of the upper part was a sealed envelope
-directed to Miss Janet Dunstan, and beside it a neat
-package wrapped in tissue-paper which, when unrolled,
-she found to contain five ten-dollar bills!</p>
-
-<p>What could it mean? Could so much money be
-really hers?</p>
-
-<p>For a little while Janet was too much bewildered
-to think of the note in her hand as a probable explanation,
-but presently she caught sight of it, and with
-a little laugh at her own stupidity she opened it and
-found in Grandpa’s hand-writing the quaintest, queerest
-epistle it had ever been hers to receive.</p>
-
-<p>It began with “Respected Granddaughter,” and
-then with a profusion of big words and complimentary
-phrases, went on to relate how a number of her worshipful
-friends, consisting of father, mother, uncle
-Tim, grandma and himself had gathered themselves
-together at an appointed place to deliberate upon the
-matter of Christmas gifts; and being thus in “solemn
-conclave assembled” that which should be done
-for her had received due attention, and it had been
-the unanimous decision in view of the fact of her
-having attained the dignity of fifteen years, that it
-was time to cease filling her stockings with toys and
-confections; and, as it proved somewhat difficult to
-decide what other offerings might be most acceptable,
-they had finally come to the conclusion to act upon a
-suggestion made by uncle Tim, which was to give
-nothing but money, with which she could procure
-such things as would best suit her taste: therefore,
-in the accompanying package she would please find
-fifty dollars&mdash;ten dollars from each; and hoping
-this would prove entirely satisfactory, he had the
-honor to subscribe himself her humble servant, etc.,
-etc., etc.</p>
-
-<p>Janet laughed. Knowing well grandpa’s propensity
-for joking she saw the sly fun with which all these
-stilted phrases had been indited; but when she again
-looked upon the money in her hand, her eyes filled
-with tears at the thought of the confidence in her, on
-the part of her relatives, which so generous a gift
-signified.</p>
-
-<p>For none of them were wealthy, although in fairly
-comfortable circumstances, and she knew so large an
-amount of money would never have been placed at
-her disposal had they not been tolerably sure that it
-would not be foolishly expended. And, then and
-there, she resolved they should see that their confidence
-had not been misplaced. Not one dollar
-would she use until there had been discovered some
-good purpose to which the whole could be devoted.</p>
-
-<p>But the discovering of such a purpose proved more
-difficult than was anticipated; partly, because she
-knew without being told, that it was not expected the
-money would be used for clothing or for any of those
-necessary things such as her parents had been in the
-habit of providing; and she labored under a great
-disinclination to ask advice in the matter, having an
-instinctive feeling that the money was given her as a
-sort of test, which stimulated her to be equal to the
-emergency alone.</p>
-
-<p>A week elapsed, and the opening day of the winter
-term of school arrived with the question no nearer a
-settlement than on Christmas morning, except that
-she had come to the determination to find, if possible,
-some method of investing her money, by which, while
-serving some useful purpose to others as well as
-herself, it should be made to yield something of
-interest in return.</p>
-
-<p>This denoted both a benevolent and practical turn
-of mind; and as if only waiting such a conclusion, a
-plan whereby this possibly might all be accomplished
-was that day suggested to her in a remark made by
-one of her school-mates which she chanced to overhear.</p>
-
-<p>“Oh, how I wish,” said one little girl to another,
-“some one here would keep books to lend as they do
-in cities. My auntie writes she has the reading of
-all the books she desires by simply paying two cents
-a day for their use.”</p>
-
-<p>Janet started as the thought flashed across her
-mind that, perhaps, here was something she could
-do; and she wondered how many books fifty dollars
-would buy, and if she would be capable of managing
-a circulating library of this kind.</p>
-
-<p>The more she thought about it the more pleasing
-seemed the idea; and when Saturday came, bringing
-a respite from school duties, as was her wont with all
-matters of importance, she went to talk it over with
-grandpa and get his opinion.</p>
-
-<p>Without preamble or delay, waiting only to exchange
-greetings, she plunged directly into her subject
-by saying:</p>
-
-<p>“Grandpa, I have decided that I would like to
-open a circulating library with my money. Do you
-think I have enough?”</p>
-
-<p>Evidently grandpa was not a little surprised, as well
-as amused, for he seemed for a moment to be struggling
-between a desire to both whistle and laugh,
-although he actually did neither; but, giving Janet a
-quizzical look over his spectacles he said:</p>
-
-<p>“Oho! and so you propose to devote your means
-to charitable purposes, do you?”</p>
-
-<p>“No, I don’t mean to do anything of the kind,”
-answered Janet; “I propose to have pay for lending
-my books.”</p>
-
-<p>Then grandpa did laugh and whistle too. But
-Janet did not allow herself to be disturbed, well
-knowing that she was sure of his sympathy and attention
-when he should have his laugh out; and directly,
-as she expected, he became quite grave, and asked
-her what had put such an idea into her head.</p>
-
-<p>Then, as she was confident he would, he listened
-most kindly while she told him all that had been in
-her mind from the moment of receiving her gift, and
-of how the little girl’s remark had seemed to indicate
-a way by which she could do not only that which she
-so much desired, but also to gratify a wish she had
-herself often felt&mdash;a wish for more fresh reading
-matter than it had been at all times convenient to
-procure. For she thought, could she purchase a
-small number of volumes and lend them in the manner
-suggested, that perhaps these might yield a
-sufficient return to enable her to get such others as
-might from time to time be desired.</p>
-
-<p>A look of pleased interest gradually stole over
-grandpa’s face as Janet told her plan, and when she
-had finished he took his spectacles in his hand, and
-while balancing them on his forefinger, remarked:</p>
-
-<p>“Why, Janet, you bid fair to become a capital business
-woman! This is not a bad project for a fifteen-year-old
-head!”</p>
-
-<p>“But what do you think, grandpa?&mdash;can I make it
-work?” queried Janet impatiently, too intent upon
-her purpose to care for compliments.</p>
-
-<p>Grandpa deliberated a few moments and then replied:</p>
-
-<p>“Yes, Janet, I believe your idea is a practicable
-one, providing you are willing to begin in a small
-way.”</p>
-
-<div class="figcenter">
-<img src="images/fig125.jpg" alt="" />
-<p class="caption">GRANDPA HIGHLY APPROVES OF JANET.</p>
-</div>
-
-<p>This Janet expected, as a matter of course, for she
-well knew fifty dollars could not be made to buy a
-great number of books; but thinking there might be
-more in grandpa’s remark than appeared, she asked
-him to explain.</p>
-
-<p>“Why,” said he, “inasmuch as your means will
-not admit of many books, it seems to me that it
-would be advisable to restrict the variety to only such
-as may be suited to a single class of readers; for
-instance, to young people like yourself.”</p>
-
-<p>Janet’s eyes sparkled as she clapped her hands and
-said:</p>
-
-<p>“I like that. So it shall be; and we will call it
-the Boys’ and Girls’ Library.”</p>
-
-<p>The project approved and a name chosen, what
-further remained to be done seemed comparatively
-easy. At least so Janet thought; for grandpa, thoroughly
-pleased with the idea, very cheerfully offered
-to assume the entire care of bringing the library into
-working order, after which it was understood the
-whole management would rest upon Janet.</p>
-
-<p>It would occupy too much space to enter into all
-the details of how this was finally brought about&mdash;of
-the letters written to distant booksellers and the
-answers received; of the catalogues he and Janet
-looked over together and their discussions in regard
-to the merits of different authors&mdash;therefore we will
-omit all this and come at once to the completed work
-as it stood when ready to hand over to Janet’s charge.</p>
-
-<p>At first father and mother had been somewhat
-doubtful of her scheme; but upon learning that it
-met with grandpa’s approval they concluded to allow
-it a fair trial. They saw that to insure the harmonious
-working of the library, there were two important
-things to be secured at the outset: That patrons
-should have perfect freedom to come and go, and
-still not be allowed to intrude upon the quiet or privacy
-of the household; and with this end in view
-they caused a tiny room at the end of the hall, which
-had an outside door of its own, to be fitted up and
-set apart for the exclusive use of the library.</p>
-
-<p>Across one side of the room was placed a row of
-low shelves where, after being carefully numbered,
-the books were neatly arranged, but leaving when
-all was done considerable unoccupied space which,
-grandpa said, was for growth should the venture
-prove a success.</p>
-
-<p>Before the window stood a small table holding
-pens, ink, and record-book, with which, and two
-chairs, the furniture of the room was complete.</p>
-
-<p>The main feature of the room, of course, was the
-books; and, considering that these had all come
-before the public long after grandpa had ceased to
-be personally interested in youthful literature, it
-seemed almost a mystery how he had been able to
-make his selections with such admirable taste and
-judgment. But this was soon accounted for by the
-fact that he had been governed in his choice by the
-standing of publishing houses and the approval of
-critics of established taste and ability. Only such as
-were thus vouched for were allowed a place in the
-collection. When all were shelved there were thirty-five
-volumes in strong cloth covers, including stories
-for both boys and girls, biographies, travels, etc., and
-one which would be classed under no general head,
-bearing the funny title “Behaving.”</p>
-
-<p>These cost on an average $1.20 each, and were all
-the works of standard authors, such as Mrs. Whitney,
-Miss Muloch, Miss Alcott, Miss Yonge, Miss
-Jewett, T. B. Aldrich, J. T. Trowbridge, with
-others of equal merit. One novel feature of this
-library must not be omitted, which was a tiny microscope
-intended to accompany a book entitled,
-“Evenings with the Microscope,” indicating that
-grandpa meant this library to be a means of profit as
-well as pleasure to the young people of the village.</p>
-
-<p>The cost of the books and microscope amounted to
-forty-four dollars, leaving six dollars, which were invested
-in a subscription to two monthly magazines,
-one a four-dollar monthly, suited to mature minds,
-and one copy of <span class="smcap">Wide Awake</span>, which took the remaining
-two. The magazines were Janet’s own suggestions,
-in order that every young person should be
-sure to find in the library something to please the
-individual taste.</p>
-
-<p>Grandpa thought it advisable to burden the working
-of the library with as few rules as possible, and
-after careful deliberation he decided upon three
-which, if strictly adhered to, he thought would be
-quite sufficient.</p>
-
-<p><i>First</i>, The library was to be open to the public on
-three days of each week between the hours of four
-and six, <span class="allsmcap">P.M.,</span> <i>and at no other time</i>. Not even for the
-accommodation of some special friend were books to
-be either taken from or returned to the library at
-irregular hours.</p>
-
-<p><i>Second</i>, Borrowers of books were to pay for their
-use at the rate of two cents per day; and were to
-make good any damage received at their hands;
-and last but by no means least, no running accounts
-were to be allowed. Every book was to be paid
-for when returned, otherwise the delinquent person
-was to be denied another until the indebtedness was
-cancelled.</p>
-
-<p>Grandpa’s idea in this was not so much to prevent
-loss, as to instil into the minds of Janet and her
-friends correct business habits.</p>
-
-<p>He reasoned, very correctly, that if a person contracted
-the habit of incurring debt in youth it would
-be very likely to follow him through life; therefore,
-even in so small a matter as this he thought it wisest
-and best to be careful and exact.</p>
-
-<p>Everything being in readiness, Janet announced
-her project by distributing among her schoolmates a
-few neatly written notices, containing a statement of
-her plan of lending books, and the rules to be observed,
-and then in a few courteous words invited
-patronage.</p>
-
-<p>Such a commotion as this simple announcement
-created! The questions and explanations which
-arose from all sides were something to be remembered:
-“Whatever had made her think of such a
-thing? Could any one have a book that wished?
-and must every one pay? Surely she would make
-exceptions in favor of her dearest, dearest friends?”
-until poor Janet was fairly bewildered.</p>
-
-<p>But she finally succeeded in making them understand
-all about it, and why it would be necessary to
-conduct the library with strict impartiality by showing
-them how unjust it would be to favor one above
-another.</p>
-
-<p>Two or three of her most intimate friends were at
-first a little inclined to feel themselves personally
-aggrieved at this; but their better judgment soon
-convinced them of their error, and on the day of opening
-these were the very first to present themselves.</p>
-
-<p>The eagerness with which others followed, and the
-number of books taken on this day proved that Janet’s
-venture had met with sufficient favor to warrant its
-success.</p>
-
-<p>And Janet proved a good manager, too. When
-the hour for opening the library arrived, she took her
-place by the table before the open record-book, and
-as fast as each one made a choice of a book she
-wrote under the proper date its number and the
-name of the taker, leaving on the same line a blank
-space where the date of return, and amount received
-for use, was to be daily recorded.</p>
-
-<p>Both magazines and fully two-thirds of the books
-were taken on this first day; but, as was to be expected,
-this was rather above the average on succeeding
-days. Still the demand for books continued fair
-throughout the winter, and also through the spring
-and summer months, one set of readers succeeding
-another until there was scarcely a house in the village
-where one or more books from Janet’s little library
-had not found its way.</p>
-
-<p>And wherever they went they carried a good influence
-with them, one which tarried and before long
-became manifest in several different ways. For,
-besides being bright and interesting, affording entertainment
-of a high order, there was not one which
-did not teach some useful lesson, inculcate some
-pure and noble sentiment, or show the beauty and
-desirability of brave and unselfish purposes.</p>
-
-<p>And so these few good books became a refining
-and inspiring element in the young society of this
-retired, humdrum little village, such as had never
-been felt there before, and from which the young
-people profited to a surprising degree.</p>
-
-<p>Throughout the entire school this good influence
-was especially felt, helping the boys to grow more
-manly and courteous, the girls to become gentle and
-more attentive to their studies, while yet sacrificing
-nothing of their accustomed jollity but its rudeness
-and carelessness.</p>
-
-<p>The boys and girls were not, to all appearances,
-conscious of the change in themselves, nor had they
-been would many have recognized its source; but
-their elders were not slow to discover the little leaven
-at work in their midst, nor to benefit by the suggestion
-of a duty owed to themselves and families which this
-contained, as the unusual number of subscribers to
-some of our best periodical literature the following
-year amply testified.</p>
-
-<p>As the year was about drawing to a close, grandpa
-looked over Janet’s record-book to ascertain what
-had been the measure of the pecuniary reward of the
-enterprise; and this is what he learned: The different
-patrons of the library numbered nearly one hundred,
-a few having read every one of the books,
-while others had taken not more than one or two.
-But of the thirty-five books each and every one had
-been out several times, and as some had proved
-greater favorites than others, grandpa made a general
-average of time upon the whole of <i>one hundred days
-each</i>&mdash;equal to thirty-five hundred days&mdash;which, at
-two cents per day, had brought a return of seventy
-dollars. The magazines, evidently, had been the
-greatest favorites of all, as the record showed that
-they had been out fully three-fourths of the time, and
-had earned a trifle over ten dollars.</p>
-
-<p>This, added to the earnings of the bound books,
-made the nice sum of eighty dollars in something less
-than one year&mdash;thirty dollars over and above the
-original investment&mdash;while not one book was lost,
-nor one so badly worn that it would not do good
-service some time longer.</p>
-
-<p>To say that grandpa was delighted at this showing
-would be but a feeble expression of his feelings; and
-when the facts in regard to the success of her undertaking
-were laid before Janet’s friends, they were so
-well pleased that their united judgment was in favor
-of a continuance of the work, advising that she withdraw
-the thirty dollars profit and put this amount out
-on interest, while the original sum should be reinvested
-in new books.</p>
-
-<p>This was quite in accordance with her own wishes;
-and as the year had been prolific of cheap editions of
-old and standard works, as well as of many new
-ones, she was enabled to increase her stock to over
-one hundred choice volumes suited to both old and
-young readers, naturally increasing the number of
-her patrons and adding greatly to the popularity of
-the little library. And although only about one-fourth
-of the second year has elapsed, the people of
-the village are already beginning to look upon Janet’s
-library as one of the permanent and praiseworthy
-institutions of the town, many talking confidently of
-a time in the near future when it shall comprise
-many hundreds of volumes, and be no longer “the
-Little Library.”</p>
-<hr class="full x-ebookmaker-drop" />
-
-<div class="chapter">
-
-
-<h2 class="nobreak" id="c38">CHRISTMAS ROAST BEEF.</h2>
-</div>
-
-<hr class="r5" />
-<p class="c more">BY A. W. LYMAN.</p>
-<hr class="r6" />
-
-
-
-
-<p class="drop-cap2">I HAD just sat down to my dinner, Christmas
-Day, when there was a distant shout down the
-street; then another still nearer. The policeman on
-the corner sounded his rattle for reinforcements; there
-was the sharp clatter of hoofs on the paving stones;
-two pistol shots in quick succession, and the confused
-murmur of many voices. I rushed to the window in
-time to see an excited crowd gathered about a prostrate
-and wounded steer, a fugitive from a passing
-drove of Texas cattle. There was little damage done
-by his mad flight; the old newsman on the corner
-was knocked down and sustained trifling injuries, and
-the excitement was soon over. The wounded animal
-was taken away in a wagon, and I resumed my dinner,
-with my mind on the Texas steer. “Poor fellow!”
-I mused, “you have a long, hard journey of it
-from Texas to roast beef!” and I began mentally to
-follow him in his successive steps.</p>
-
-<p>From the peculiar figure which I saw on his flank
-as he lay in the street, I could trace him back through
-two thousand miles of wanderings, down to the ranche
-of Col. Mifflin Kennedy, where he was born.</p>
-
-<p>There are three or four larger ranches in Texas, but
-Kennedy’s is a model in its way, and a brief description
-of it will give an idea of the manner in which
-stock-growing is carried on here. Kennedy’s ranche
-is a peninsula, comprising more than one hundred
-thousand acres of land, projecting into the gulf between
-the Neuces and Rio Grande rivers. On three
-sides of this tract are the waters of the gulf, so that all
-the owner had to do was to build a fence on the land
-side, and his farm was enclosed. But this was not so
-easy a task as one might think, for this fence of stout
-planks is thirty-one miles long. At intervals of three
-miles along the fence are little villages, groups of
-houses for the herders, stables for their horses, and
-pens for the stock. Within the enclosure roam about
-forty thousand cattle, ranging in size from young
-calves to three-year-olds, and perhaps as many more
-horses, sheep and goats.</p>
-
-<p>I should guess that our steer began his first experience
-with life at Kennedy’s, on an early spring day.
-A spring day in March, the very thought of which
-makes you shiver, is in Texas a season of bud and
-blossom and singing birds. The new grass is thrusting
-its bright green blades up through the brown and
-faded tufts of last year’s dead verdure, the trees are
-unfolding their leaves and the broad prairies are
-white and blue and purple by turns, with the early
-wild flowers which grow in beds miles in extent.</p>
-
-<div class="figright">
-<img src="images/fig126.jpg" alt="" />
-<p class="caption">“<span class="smcap">The branding process.</span>”</p>
-</div>
-
-<p>The little calf has enjoyed a happy existence of a
-few days amid scenes like this, when his first sorrow
-comes&mdash;an experience much like that of the baby
-with vaccination. This is the branding process
-which he must undergo,
-a hot iron being placed
-against his flank, which
-burns off the hair, and
-imprints upon the tender
-hide a mark&mdash;a sort of monogram&mdash;which he
-never outgrows&mdash;and which serves to distinguish
-him forever from the cattle of other ranches. In
-Texas every stock-grower has his own peculiar brand,
-which is registered with the proper official, and no
-person is permitted to use that mark besides himself.
-By this means cattle that wander away or are stolen
-can be singled out wherever found, as you see I recognized
-our wanderer in New York.</p>
-
-<p>After the branding the calf is turned loose to make
-his living on the plains, and for two or three years he
-leads a life of absolute freedom. He rapidly grows
-tall, gaunt, uncouth and belligerent, and by the time
-he is a full-fledged steer, what with his immensely
-long horns, shaggy hair, and wild-rolling eyes, he is a
-fierce-looking fellow. I have a pair of horns taken
-from a steer in Western Texas, which measure more
-than five feet across from tip to tip, and this is not a
-remarkably large measurement.</p>
-
-<p>When our steer is not more than three years old, he
-enters upon another stage of his existence, which for
-him ends ingloriously, in a few months, in a Northern
-slaughter-house. Some spring day, such as I have
-described, the cattle-buyer appears, and the steer
-changes owners.</p>
-
-<p>The collecting and assorting of the herds for
-the drive Northward, on the fenced ranches
-in the settled portions of the State, are easily accomplished;
-but in the grazing regions further west,
-where the cattle roam without limit, this work is both
-difficult and perilous. The cattle in these remote
-regions are mostly bought by a class of bold, daring
-men, of long experience on the frontier, known as
-“out-riders,” who buy and collect the cattle from the
-stock-raiser, and sell them to the speculators from
-the north.</p>
-
-<p>The outrider fills his saddle-bags, and most likely a
-belt which he wears around his waist, with gold coin
-to the amount of tens of thousands of dollars, for in
-the section of country he visits there are no banks;
-and, taking a few trusty companions, all well mounted
-and armed, sets out on his long journey, beset by constant
-danger from lurking Indians and white outlaws
-who infest this wild country.</p>
-
-<p>The stock-grower who has lived remote from the
-settlements, perhaps seeing no human being except
-the owner of a neighboring ranche for a year, looks
-upon the “outrider’s” visit as an event in his existence.</p>
-
-<p>He is a most hospitable host, and for several
-days after his guest’s arrival no business is thought
-of, and a season of feasting, riding and hunting is
-observed. When this is over they begin their negotiations.</p>
-
-<p>The herds are scanned over to get some idea
-of their condition, but the cattle are not carefully
-counted and weighed as stock is in the North. The
-herds are simply sold “as they run.” That is, the
-owner looks through his book to see how many cattle
-he has branded, and the “outrider” pays him so
-much for his brand, which entitles the buyer to all the
-cattle that he can find in scouring the prairies, which
-bear the purchased mark.</p>
-
-<p>There is considerable sport and a great deal of
-hard, rough riding in getting the wild herds together
-and assorting them. It is in this work that the splendid
-horsemanship and
-wonderful skill with the
-lasso or lariat, of which
-so much has been written,
-are displayed by the
-Texas herder.</p>
-
-<p>In a few days everything
-is in readiness, and
-the herds are started on
-their long Northern
-march.</p>
-
-<div class="figright">
-<img src="images/fig127.jpg" alt="" />
-<p class="caption">‘<span class="smcap">The Outrider.</span>’</p>
-</div>
-
-<p>A route
-is selected
-which
-affords
-the best
-pasturage,
-and
-is most
-convenient
-to the streams, as it is essential that the
-cattle should reach the end of the drive in prime
-condition for the market.</p>
-
-<p>There are few incidents to enliven the wearisome
-weeks that follow. The herds browze leisurely along
-from six to ten miles a day, following the winding
-courses of the creeks and rivers, the herders following
-lazily after to keep them in the general direction
-northward.</p>
-
-<p>For days and days human habitations are lost
-sight of, and the droves and riders are alone
-in the midst of the great, grassy ocean. Not quite
-alone, either&mdash;I came near forgetting that bright and
-cheerful companion of the drove, the cow-bird, a
-brown little fellow about the size of the well-known
-chipping-sparrow, or “chippy,” as the boys call
-him.
-Flitting along on the outskirts of the drove, one moment
-tilting gleefully on a tall, swaying weed, the next
-perching saucily on the tip of a steer’s horns, perhaps
-at night roosting complacently on his back, the cow-bird
-goes through the long journey from the Texas
-plains to the stock-pens at the Kansas railroad station,
-whence the cattle are shipped to the east. Whether
-the little fellows return to Texas to accompany the
-next herd, or die of grief at separation from their
-long-horned friends, I cannot say; but I think they
-must go back, for their cheerful presence is never
-missed, and their number never grows less.</p>
-
-<div class="figleft">
-<img src="images/fig128.jpg" alt="" />
-<p class="caption">“<span class="smcap">The lasso.</span>”</p>
-</div>
-
-<p>Although, as I have said, there are few incidents to
-interrupt the monotony of the drive, the cattle-men
-sometimes meet with thrilling experiences. In former
-years Indian attacks were not infrequent, and many
-a brave band of herders has been surrounded and
-killed by the savages whose hunting-grounds were encroached
-upon by the droves. There is always danger,
-too, of stampedes in the herds, caused either by
-the terrific thunder-storms and tornadoes which burst
-upon the great plains without warning, or by the “cattle
-thieves,”&mdash;bands of white, Indian, or half-breed outlaws,
-who live by stealing stray cattle from the herds,
-and sell them or kill them for their hides. Having
-in his early life encountered one or more of the devastating
-prairie fires which sweep over the great, dry
-pastures almost every fall, the slightest smell of smoke
-or sight of flame will plunge the steer into a panic of
-fright, and this well-known circumstance is turned to
-advantage by the cattle thieves in securing their plunder.</p>
-
-<p>Getting some distance to windward of a herd on
-a dark night, the rogues set fire to a buffalo robe, and
-the pungent smoke of the burning hair is borne down
-upon the reposing cattle by the
-wind. The first whiff gives the
-alarm, ten thousand pairs of horns
-are reared aloft in air, and one united
-snort of terror is heard. Before
-the herders can mount their horses
-and check the panic the herd is
-past control, and the maddened
-and terrified animals, trampling
-one another and whatever comes in
-their way under foot, dash frantically
-off in the darkness with a
-noise like the roll of distant thunder.
-They scatter beyond hope
-of recovery. In the confusion
-following upon the heels of the
-stampede the thieves succeed in
-driving off scores and sometimes
-hundreds of the stragglers.</p>
-
-<div class="figright">
-<img src="images/fig129.jpg" alt="" />
-<p class="caption">“<span class="smcap">The Cow-Bird.</span>”</p>
-</div>
-
-<p>There are other incidents that I could narrate of
-amusing and exciting adventures during the drive.
-One episode I now recall of my first trip over the
-great cattle trail, was the encountering of a large herd
-of buffaloes which became intermingled with our cattle
-just after we crossed the Arkansas River in
-Southern Kansas.
-The buffaloes
-became
-so bewildered
-that they
-marched along
-with the cattle,
-and the young
-Texans enjoyed
-rare
-sport for two
-days in lassoing
-them. We
-had a welcome
-variety in our
-scanty bill of
-fare by the addition of tongue and other choice tid-bits
-to our larder.</p>
-
-<p>As the railroads are neared the drive becomes
-more and more tiresome, and the Texas herders,
-longing for the wider freedom of the plains, are not
-sorry to have it end. But the steer, if he could peep
-into the future, would be sorry to have the journey
-brought to a close, for with the railroad the romance
-of his career is over, and the last two weeks of his life
-are full of hunger, thirst and suffering. The great
-droves are divided into small herds, and distributed
-among the hundreds of stock pens. After a rest of a
-few days the last journey is begun. With eighteen or
-twenty of his companions the steer is taken from the
-pens and stowed away in the cattle-car&mdash;a sort of
-gigantic coop on wheels. There is neither room to
-turn around nor to lie down, so closely are the poor
-fellows wedged in. Now and then a steer contrives to
-get down on his knees at the risk of being trampled
-under the feet of his neighbors, but he gains little
-rest in this way.</p>
-
-<p>The cattle trains run slowly, and from ten or twelve
-days are occupied in the journey from Central Kansas
-to New York. At intervals of three hundred miles
-the trains are stopped and the cattle are taken off,
-placed in pens and fed and watered. After a rest of
-twenty-four hours the journey is again resumed. During
-the continuous runs of three hundred miles&mdash;about
-thirty hours in time&mdash;the poor creatures are
-without food or drink, and their suffering, especially
-in warm weather, is intense. Is it a wonder that they
-lose on an average two hundred pounds in weight
-each between the Texas prairies and New York?</p>
-
-<div class="figcenter">
-<img src="images/fig130.jpg" alt="" />
-<p class="caption">“<span class="smcap">A large herd of buffaloes became intermingled with our cattle.</span>”</p>
-</div>
-
-<p>The cattle dealers are not, as might at first appear,
-regardless of the sufferings of their stock. To them
-the loss in weight is a loss in money, and for selfish
-reasons, if for no other, they would be interested in
-any plan for keeping the animals in good condition.
-Many devices and inventions have been tried to lessen
-suffering and save flesh, all of which have been found
-objectionable. One of these inventions was a “palace
-cattle car,” which was introduced a few years ago.
-It was a car divided into stalls, so as to allow each
-animal a separate apartment. There was room to lie
-down, and food and drink were supplied to every
-stall, so that there was no need to take the cattle from
-the cars during the entire journey. But for some
-reason the cars did not work well. The speculators
-and butchers objected on the ground that with so few
-cattle in a car the cost of getting them to market was
-too great; and those who had welcomed them because
-they promised to relieve suffering, acknowledged that
-the steer, placed singly in a stall, was bruised more
-by being thrown against the partition walls than when
-he was jammed in between two of his fellow prisoners
-in the old cars. So the “palace cars” were withdrawn,
-and the old system of slow torture&mdash;twenty-four to
-thirty-six hours of fasting and jolting followed by a
-day of feasting and rest&mdash;went on. But thoughtful
-and humane men have for years been studying the
-question of live stock transportation, and some day
-not long distant means will be found to lessen the
-sufferings of the steer in his railroad trip to New
-York. Even no less a personage than a United
-States Senator has devoted many years to this subject,
-and I am not sure but more real fame will attach
-to the name of the Hon. John B. McPherson of New
-Jersey for a recent invention to relieve suffering cattle
-than he will earn in the Senate Chamber; at any
-rate he is entitled to everlasting gratitude from all the
-sons and daughters of Bos.</p>
-
-<p>The invention to which I refer is a simple arrangement
-for feeding and watering stock on the cars, and
-consists of a trough for water which revolves on a
-pivot so as to be readily cleaned and inverted when
-not in use; and a folding rack for hay, which can
-be shut up out of the way when empty. Experiments
-with Mr. McPherson’s invention have proved
-its usefulness, and the Pennsylvania Railroad Company
-will soon have two hundred cars built with his
-improvement. With a well-filled rack before him,
-and fresh water always within reach, the steer will
-be able to get through the journey with a tolerable
-degree of comfort, even though
-he is without a bed to lie upon.</p>
-
-<p>The cattle-yards in our large
-cities, acres of small, square pens,
-ranged in long rows, with narrow
-lanes between, are familiar and
-not particularly inviting places,
-and, luckily for the steer, his life
-there is short. Landed from the
-cars he is driven into one of the
-small pens with about thirty others,
-where he stays for a day or
-two without experiencing any new
-incident in his life, except that
-he is poked and yelled at by any
-number of beef-buyers who want
-to learn his condition. Poor fellow!
-It makes little difference
-what condition he may be in, for
-there are a million mouths to
-feed in the city over there, and three thousand miles
-across the blue ocean yonder, those pursy Englishmen
-are calling for “American beef!”</p>
-
-<p>About the second morning after his railroad journey
-is finished, and our steer is in the Jersey stock
-pens, a dirty-looking old ferry-boat runs up alongside
-the wharf. The gates are opened and the cattle go
-rushing pell-mell on deck, where they find themselves
-in pens similar to those they have just left. Twenty
-minutes steaming up and across the Hudson River,
-and the steamer ties up at the Thirty-fourth Street
-dock in New York.</p>
-
-<p>Manhattan Market, where the cattle are going, is
-that large brick building nearly two blocks away
-from the river. The river-front and the broad avenue
-between the landing and the market are crowded with
-piles of freight, and heavily-loaded trucks, and we
-instinctively wonder how the timid and frightened
-cattle can ever be driven through such jam and confusion.
-At many of the landings this work has been
-attended with the greatest difficulty; accidents have
-been of frequent occurrence, and many cattle have
-escaped and rushed madly through the crowded
-streets, like the hero of our story.</p>
-
-<div class="figright">
-<img src="images/fig131.jpg" alt="" />
-<p class="caption"><span class="smcap">Cattle-yard.</span></p>
-</div>
-
-<p>But the cattle dealers have overcome this obstacle
-just as the railroads conquer the mountains and rocks&mdash;by
-tunneling. As the cattle come from the boat
-they pass under an archway, and find themselves in
-an underground passage, a long tunnel dug many
-feet underneath buildings and streets. The further
-end of the tunnel opens in the abattoir, or slaughter-house,
-and the cattle come out face to face with fate
-in the shape of a hundred butchers, who stand with
-gleaming knives awaiting their victims. The cattle
-are driven forward. Overhead, fastened to strong
-cross-beams, is a windlass, around which a rope is
-coiled. A stout iron hook hanging from the end of
-the rope is seized by one of the butchers, who deftly
-catches it around the hind leg of a
-steer. The windlass is turned, and
-in a trice the poor fellow is swinging
-in mid-air, head downward. A
-huge tin pan is slipped under his
-head, and a long knife, keen-edged
-as a razor, is drawn across his
-throat. The life-blood gushes out
-in a dark stream, and in less time
-than it takes to tell it our steer
-ceases to exist, and becomes beef.</p>
-
-<p>We shall not have time to watch
-the process of cutting up and the
-disposition of all the parts in detail.
-From the time the steer passes
-into the hands of the man with the
-hook until he is hung up two halves
-of beef occupies eleven minutes,
-and on a trial of skill between the
-butchers the work has been done
-in eight minutes. But this is a small part of the
-work. The pan of blood has to be taken to the tanks
-in the adjoining room, where it is dried and made
-into a fertilizer to enrich the earth; the horns are
-saved for the comb manufacturer; the large bones in
-the head are sent to the button factory; the hide to
-a tannery; the hoofs to the glue and gelatine makers.
-The tripe man comes around for the stomach; one
-man buys all the tongues, and another has a contract
-for all the tails; and so on, until every scrap is disposed
-of.</p>
-
-<p>If we visit the abattoir on a cold day we shall see
-perhaps three thousand beeves hanging up in the
-cool and airy room, but in warm weather we shall
-have to take a peep into one of those gigantic refrigerators
-yonder, each of which holds three hundred
-cattle. The meat is suspended from hooks over a
-vast bed of ice which keeps the air at a temperature
-of thirty-eight degrees. Similar refrigerators have
-been built recently in the holds of vessels, and with
-forty tons of ice three hundred beeves have been
-safely transported to Liverpool and sold in the British
-markets.</p>
-
-<p>Around the door, as we pass out, is a group of
-pale, hollow-faced men, delicate women, and sickly
-children, with hacking coughs. These are the blood-drinkers&mdash;people
-in all stages of consumption, who
-come hither to catch the warm blood of the cattle,
-which they drink with the eagerness of hope. Some
-of them have been coming for many months, and
-have been benefited by the medicine, but in the case
-of others it is plainly to be seen that they are making
-a hopeless struggle against death.</p>
-
-<div class="figright">
-<img src="images/fig132.jpg" alt="" />
-<p class="caption">“<span class="smcap">All is over.</span>”</p>
-</div>
-
-<p>As soon as the meat has cooled sufficiently it is
-delivered to the retail butchers of the city and its
-suburbs, who haul it to their shops or to the markets.
-All night long, while the great city is asleep, the market
-wagons creak and rumble through the almost
-deserted streets, and by four o’clock in the morning
-the beefsteaks for a million breakfasts, and the roasts
-and other choice cuts for a million dinners, are temptingly
-displayed on the white wooden blocks or marble
-slabs, behind which stand the fat, ruddy-faced, good-natured
-butchers in white aprons ready to serve all
-comers. The days before Thanksgiving and Christmas
-are the occasions when the butchers make their
-greatest displays, and the markets are then well worth
-a visit. Beef in halves and quarters, fancifully decked
-with wreaths and streamers, fat haunches, juicy sirloins
-with just the right proportion of fat to lean, “porterhouse”
-steaks garnished with sprigs of parsley, and
-other tender bits, are set off with as much art and
-made as attractive as a Broadway shop window in the
-holiday season.</p>
-
-<p>But we have finished our slice of Christmas roast
-beef and thus ends our story. We may wonder
-whether there will always be meat enough to supply
-all the world; but a moment’s reflection will satisfy
-us that we need not worry about that. There are in
-Texas alone nearly five millions of cattle and there
-are nearly half a million driven to market every year.
-Only think of it! supposing this number all in one
-drove marching in single file at the rate of ten miles
-a day, it would be nearly two months from the time
-the first steer entered New York until the last one
-came in sight. They would make a line reaching
-from Columbus, Ohio, to New York&mdash;550 miles long.</p>
-<hr class="full x-ebookmaker-drop" />
-
-<div class="chapter">
-
-
-<h2 class="nobreak" id="c39">GRANNY LUKE’S COURAGE.</h2>
-</div>
-
-<hr class="r5" />
-<p class="c more">BY M. E. W. S.</p>
-<hr class="r6" />
-
-<div>
-<img class="drop-capp5" src="images/fig133.jpg"  alt=""  />
-</div>
-
-
-<p class="drop-capp">“COME, Tim, hurry
-up and be
-courageous.”</p>
-
-<p>Tim didn’t
-hurry up, nor
-was he in a
-hurry to be
-courageous.</p>
-
-<p>“Can’t you
-shoot the creature?”</p>
-
-<p>“No, grandma,
-I’m afraid.”</p>
-
-<p>“Afraid of
-what?”</p>
-
-<p>“Well, grandma,
-I’m afraid of hurting it,” said Tim.</p>
-
-<p>“But that’s what shooting was meant for!” said
-Granny Luke, indignant at the weak-minded grandson.</p>
-
-<p>“You shoot it, grandma!”</p>
-
-<p>“I don’t know how to shoot&mdash;and, well&mdash;I am
-afraid of a gun, because I am a woman!” said Mrs.
-Luke, who was known in all the mining region as
-“Granny Luke”&mdash;more because she called herself
-so, than because anybody else gave her that title.</p>
-
-<p>She was an “old country” woman who, having
-lost her children, was left with a number of young
-grandchildren to bring up. Fate had wafted her to
-the lead mines in Iowa, down by one of which she
-had settled in a log cabin, and had picked up a living
-by boarding the miners, attending to them in sickness,
-and by sending her eldest, Tim, down the shaft
-with the miners’ dinners. A lead mine is worked far
-under ground, from a shaft which is sunk like a
-bucket in a well. Tim was not afraid to go down
-this bucket, nor to crawl on his hands and knees far
-into Yorkshire Tom’s lead, with a tallow candle in
-his cap, to carry the miner his dinner; nor did he
-dread an occasional rattlesnake, who, coiled at the
-mouth of the cave, would often ring his deadly rattle
-at the boy. No, Tim was inured to danger, and he
-knew how to give the rattlesnake a good tap over his
-ugly head with a stick, and silence his hiss forever;
-and he knew how to measure and guard against the
-equally poisonous air, in some parts of the mine, by
-the uncertain flame of his candle.</p>
-
-<p>But he could not “<i>shoot the creature</i>.” Love made
-him a coward.</p>
-
-<p>For the “creature” was a beautiful fawn, the loveliest,
-soft eyed, tender pet that ever lived, whom Tim
-had trained and fed and educated, and brought in
-from the prairie when the fawn was a baby. Some
-hunters had shot the pretty doe, the fawn’s mother,
-and Tim had educated the orphan.</p>
-
-<p>Granny Luke had a little garden where she raised
-with her own hands a few vegetables, highly prized
-by the miners. The fawn had shown a great appreciation
-of early cabbage sprouts, green peas, beet
-tops and other succulent green things. No bars
-could keep him out, and no ropes could tie this gentle
-robber. He would jump over everything, and he
-nibbled so neatly and judiciously that Granny Luke’s
-garden had been ruined several times, and now her
-really long-suffering patience was at an end.</p>
-
-<p>“No early peas and no late peas, no corn, no
-squash, no lettuce, no anything,” said Granny, in
-despair. “The creature shall be shot.”</p>
-
-<div class="figcenter">
-<img src="images/fig134.jpg" alt="" />
-<p class="caption">TIM’S COURAGE FAILS.</p>
-</div>
-
-<p>She loved Primrose, too&mdash;as Tim had named the
-pretty fawn, whom he found deserted, lying on a bed
-of those yellow flowers which grow in tufts on the
-prairie. Primrose had tears in his big eyes, and was
-crying for his mother just like a human baby, when
-Tim found him and brought him home in his arms.
-Granny Luke had fed him with warm milk then, and
-had tended him as carefully as she did Tim, at a
-similar tender age; but those days were past, and
-Primrose was growing every day to be a buck of
-promise; and although he was tame enough to them,
-his moral nature could not be cultivated to know
-that while it was proper to eat green boughs and
-the coarse grass of the prairie, it was a sin to eat
-the fine things behind the fence.</p>
-
-<p>Granny Luke gardened like a German woman,
-and sowed her water-cresses and spinach every day,
-hoping for continuous crops. But Primrose allowed
-them to nearly reach perfection, and then down
-they went, under his even, strong, white teeth.</p>
-
-<p>If Granny Luke threw a stone at him he would
-give her one tender, loving look out of his beautiful
-eyes, and run away over the prairie for fifty miles,
-perhaps, glad of the exercise; always back, however,
-to greet Tim, when he crawled up out of the well-like
-bucket and from the cold, dark mine into the sun,
-and ready to offer him the warm friendship of his
-own well-furred neck, as the poor boy threw an arm
-around his four-footed friend, and the twain sat down,
-to an out door supper.</p>
-
-<p>And now his grandma wished him to shoot this intimate,
-dear, beautiful friend!</p>
-
-<p>No wonder that Tim’s courage failed.</p>
-
-<p>“I have invited the General to a venison dinner
-day after to-morrow,” said Granny Luke; “and Primrose
-must be shot. I shall roast his saddle.”</p>
-
-<p>Poor Tim shuddered. Granny Luke’s sensibilities
-had been blunted by time, and hard work and poverty.
-She had been doing very well in her affairs&mdash;thanks
-to the friendship of the General Superintendent
-of the mines, an old-country friend of her’s;
-and as he appreciated her excellent cooking, and
-fresh vegetables, she occasionally gave him and his
-fellow officers a good dinner. Primrose was to be
-offered up to two passions&mdash;revenge and avarice&mdash;for
-as he ate her spinach, he must therefore be
-eaten.</p>
-
-<p>The group was standing outside the cabin door,
-Tim leaning irresolutely on his gun; Granny Luke,
-her arms akimbo, looking at him; and Primrose, as
-beautiful as only a fawn can be, was calmly nibbling
-the lower branches of a tree. Animals are better
-off than we are; they never suffer from anxiety. So
-Primrose had no possible idea that those branches
-might be the last which he would ever munch. He
-looked up at Mrs. Luke and her grandson and gave
-a friendly “<i>neigh!</i>”</p>
-
-<p>This upset Tim, and he burst out a-crying: “I
-can’t shoot him! Granny&mdash;and I won’t!”</p>
-
-<p>There came round the corner of the house a slow,
-massive tread. It was Yorkshire Tom, with his
-pick-axe on his shoulder.</p>
-
-<p>“What’s all this! what’s all this!” said the man,
-catching Mrs. Luke’s arm as it was descending on
-Tim’s back.</p>
-
-<p>“The boy is disobedient, and refuses to shoot
-Primrose,” said the stern old woman.</p>
-
-<p>Yorkshire Tom was a patient man, and he staid a
-half hour to listen to the ins and outs of this
-curious case. He liked Tim and had felt his heart
-warm many a time as the little pale fellow, with the
-candle in his cap, came creeping through the dark
-alleys bringing him a dinner, and staying to chat
-awhile of the bright upper earth.</p>
-
-<p>“Now, Dame, thee’s a little hard on the young un!
-ain’t thee!” said Tom, in broad Yorkshire brogue.
-“Come lad, take the beast, and come along o’ me.
-I’ll shoot him for thee.”</p>
-
-<p>So Tim, with his arm around the neck of dear
-Primrose, walked off to Yorkshire Tom’s, far out of
-sight and hearing of Granny Luke.</p>
-
-<p>It was ten o’clock, of a moonlight night, when Tim
-came wearily home, with a saddle of venison on his
-back. Although he was weary, he looked bright, and
-his cheeks very red&mdash;perhaps from the exercise.</p>
-
-<p>“A large, plump saddle!” said his grandmother,
-“I had no idea Primrose was so fat&mdash;that comes
-from eating my spinach! A nice roast this for the
-General&mdash;why, boy, you look feverish. I must give
-you some peppermint tea! So Yorkshire Tom did
-it, did he? Well, Tim, you tell him to keep the rest
-of the meat to pay himself for the trouble&mdash;all but
-two steaks from the hind leg, remember.”</p>
-
-<p>“Yes, Granny; I’ll remember,” said Tim, whose
-eyes were sparkling.</p>
-
-<p>That was a good dinner that Granny Luke cooked
-for the General. The saddle was done to a turn,
-and she had some wild currant jelly, some fried
-potatoes, and a few vegetables which Primrose had
-not eaten. As she waited on the gentlemen, she
-enjoyed hearing them commend her cooking, and
-did not hesitate to utter a few words of praise over
-her departed Primrose! We often think of virtues
-in our friends after they have gone, which did not
-occur to us while they were living.</p>
-
-<p>Alas, for human constancy! Tim ate a large
-plateful of roast Primrose; and what was more, he
-liked him.</p>
-
-<p>“Well! I was right,” said his grandma; “he has
-forgotten all about his lost pet, and I am glad I have
-had Primrose shot!”</p>
-
-<p>But Granny Luke missed the fawn more and more,
-and she saw her spinach and water-cresses and
-lettuces grow unmolested without that supreme pleasure
-which she had thought would be hers! Her days
-were lonely, as her grandchildren left her for their
-tasks, and no Primrose came to give her trouble.</p>
-
-<p>She awoke one day feeling rather unwell, and as
-she was tying her cap over her gray hairs, which were
-her crown of glory, she saw a little black snake wiggling
-its way through the logs of her cabin.</p>
-
-<p>It frightened her; not because she cared for the
-little snake, but because the miners believe it an evil
-omen if a snake crawls into a house. She was superstitious,
-the poor old ignorant woman; and although
-she had plenty of courage in every other way, she
-was afraid of a “bad sign.”</p>
-
-<p>However, she drove the snake away, and went
-about her household tasks. Tim was sent off with
-the miners’ breakfast&mdash;her other grandchildren were
-fed and sent out to pick out the shining bits of metal
-from a heap of stones, and the strong old woman
-bent over a wash-tub to do her week’s washing. She
-had got about half through when she, fairly tired, let
-the soap fall, rubbed her arms dry, and thought she
-would look at her spinach and see how it was growing.</p>
-
-<p>“Oh! gracious goodness!” what did she see?</p>
-
-<p>Who was there nibbling the spinach, eating off
-the young water cresses, and taking an occasional
-shy glance at the beet tops, and shaking his pretty
-furry ears? Who but Primrose!</p>
-
-<p>“I knew it! I knew it!” said Granny Luke. “I
-knew when I saw that black snake that I was going
-to have bad luck! That is an evil spirit&mdash;and he
-has come after me! Oh, hou! ough! hou! Tim!”</p>
-
-<p>Granny Luke’s courage was all gone. Primrose
-was dead&mdash;and she had eaten him; yes, two steaks
-out of his hind legs. But there he was, with little
-horns growing out of his forehead!</p>
-
-<p>But Primrose&mdash;<i>for it was he</i>, and no other&mdash;hearing
-her familiar voice, had leaped the paling and ran
-to lick the kind hand that had fed his infant deership.</p>
-
-<div class="figcenter">
-<img src="images/fig135.jpg" alt="" />
-<p class="caption">GRANNY LUKE LOSES HER COURAGE.</p>
-</div>
-
-<p>This was too much, and Granny Luke fainted dead
-away; and when Tim came home he found her on
-the ground in front of the cabin, and Primrose was
-licking her forehead with his cool, rough tongue.</p>
-
-<p>“You see, grandma,” said he, in explanation,
-“Yorkshire Tom goes a-hunting sometimes, and he
-had just shot a fine buck when you wanted me to
-shoot Primrose. So he took us both over to his
-cabin and we tied Primrose up, and he sent you
-some venison from his buck, and he kept Primrose
-at his house. I went over to see him every day; and
-Yorkshire Tom said it was not wicked, so that I
-didn’t have to tell a lie; and you never asked me
-anything about Primrose, and so I didn’t have to say
-anything. And we meant to keep him always tied
-up, and he has got away to-day and I’m sorry,
-grandma; but I hope you won’t make me shoot him
-now, because he’s so big; and all I’m afraid of is
-that somebody else will shoot him&mdash;”</p>
-
-<p>And Tim skipped off as lightly as Primrose himself
-to caress and fondle the creature who was now no
-longer a fawn.</p>
-
-<p>It took Granny Luke some time to believe that
-Primrose was not a spirit! He had to eat a whole
-crop of lettuces before she believed in him, but she
-was secretly so glad to see him that she forgave Tim,
-and only asked of Yorkshire Tom that he would
-build a more secure paling for Mr. Primrose, and
-also to make her a higher fence for her vegetables; all
-of which he did, and she forgave him, particularly as
-he sent her another saddle of venison, and “two
-steaks from the hind leg,” of another deer which he
-had shot, assuring her that Primrose was still too
-young to make good venison.</p>
-<hr class="full x-ebookmaker-drop" />
-
-<div class="chapter">
-
-
-<h2 class="nobreak" id="c40">BILLY’S HOUND.<br />
-<span class="tiny">(<i>A Two-Part Story.</i>)</span></h2>
-</div>
-
-
-
-<hr class="r5" />
-<p class="c more">BY SARA E. CHESTER.</p>
-<hr class="r6" />
-
-
-
-
-<p class="c">PART I.</p>
-
-<div>
-<img class="drop-capp2" src="images/fig136.jpg"  alt=""  />
-</div>
-
-<p class="drop-capp">BILLY used to read Sir Walter
-Scott’s poems when he
-was not much larger than the
-book, his sisters say. From
-Sir Walter he received the
-idea that there is no such
-thing as a hero without his
-steed and hounds. Although
-Billy did not aim at being a
-hero exactly, he by no means called himself a coward;
-and he considered a horse and dog as necessary
-to a daring, manly fellow as to a regular hero.</p>
-
-<p>The horse Billy confidently expected to own when
-he should come into long-tailed coats and moustaches.
-He knew the high price of a good article, and was
-willing to wait; but a “trusty hound,” which he
-could have for the asking, he wanted at once. All
-the boys belonging to his little clan either owned, or
-had some time owned, a dog; and when the huntsmen
-set out for the chase (in pursuit of such noble
-game as nuts or apples, birds’ eggs or nests) the dogs
-followed their masters. Those who were not followed
-had tales to tell&mdash;either of mysterious
-strangers who had lurked about the premises and
-enticed their dogs away on account of their immense
-market value, or of bloody street fights in which
-their brave ones had perished. Each boy except
-Billy had had his experience, and if not the present
-possessor of a hound, could boast the noble pedigree
-or gallant death of one departed.</p>
-
-<p>But it was not altogether Sir Walter, nor an ambition
-to be the owner of a high-born warrior, which
-made Billy long for a dog; he was born with a love
-for them as certain people are born with a love for
-babies, and he had many fancies about his hound
-which were not of a bold and bloody nature. He
-pictured him affectionate and gentle. He pictured
-him comfortably dozing by the fire on winter evenings;
-sharing a corner of his room at night; sharing his
-last crust should changing fortunes make them
-paupers&mdash;always faithful, tender and true, a friend to
-be relied upon though other friends might fail.</p>
-
-<div class="figcenter">
-<img src="images/fig137.jpg" alt="" />
-</div>
-
-<p>Unfortunately he did not inherit his tastes from
-his father. That gentleman disliked the canine race
-in proportion as Billy liked it, and although an indulgent
-parent generally, would not listen to Billy’s
-petitions for a dog. Occasionally, however, Billy
-received such a tempting offer that he was emboldened
-to renew his pleas, and one day, unable to
-resist the fascination of a fierce little black-and-tan,
-began:</p>
-
-<p>“Father, there’s a dog&mdash;&mdash;”</p>
-
-<p>“Once for all,” interrupted his father, rather noisily,
-“I say, no! Don’t mention that subject to me again,
-sir! Anything that is reasonable, from a parrot to a
-monkey, I’ll consider. But you are not to mention
-dogs to me again, sir!”</p>
-
-<p>“You know papa was bitten once, dear,” said his
-sister, as the door closed after their angry sire. “You
-really ought not to tease him. Why won’t you try
-and be contented with a dear little kitten, or a
-canary?”</p>
-
-<p>“I’d as soon pet a rattlesnake as a kitten,” said
-Billy; “one is as mean and sly as the other. And
-that canary of yours&mdash;it’s got just about as much
-soul as a lump of sugar.”</p>
-
-<p>“How would you like a goat? Goats are big and
-fierce&mdash;&mdash;”</p>
-
-<p>“A goat is a brute,” said Billy. “As for the dog
-that bit father, you know it was a bull&mdash;the only
-variety of dog that has any treachery in its blood. I
-don’t ask to own a bull-dog. But a goat! Do you
-s’pose Byron could ever have said this about a goat?”
-(Billy had spoken the poem at school, and proceeded
-to declaim):</p>
-
-<div class="poetry-container">
-<div class="poetry">
-<div class="stanza">
-<div class="verse indent0">“In life the firmest friend,</div>
-<div class="verse indent0">The first to welcome, foremost to defend;</div>
-<div class="verse indent0">Whose honest heart is still his master’s own;</div>
-<div class="verse indent0">Who labors, fights, lives, breathes for him alone!”</div>
-</div>
-</div>
-</div>
-
-<p>“I’ll have a dog, or nothing,” he concluded.</p>
-
-<p>“He has his father’s will,” sighed his mother, as
-he left the room.</p>
-
-<p>A few weeks later Billy was rambling home. He
-had been sent with a dish to an invalid; and between
-the fear of spilling its contents and the attention he
-must pay to his steps had had a wretched time; so
-on the way home he was thoroughly enjoying liberty.
-Hands were free to shy stones at balky and rickety
-horses, and feet were free to roam and linger where
-they listed. He was a long time on that homeward
-journey, and only reached the graveyard at half-past
-four.</p>
-
-<p>Billy had been known to quicken his footsteps
-when passing the graveyard by moonlight; and it is
-said that once when the sky was dark above and
-the night dark beneath, he ran quite around the
-corner, where he sauntered and whistled indifferently.
-But there was no occasion for running to-day.
-Neither moonlight nor darkness brooded over the
-graves; the white stones were dazzling in the sunshine,
-and the blades of grass twinkled like so many
-little stars; birds hopped fearlessly over the graves,
-not changing their gay tunes nor lowering their loud
-voices out of respect to the place; and altogether the
-graveyard looked so cheery and tempting in the
-afternoon sunshine that Billy stepped over the stile.</p>
-
-<p>There was a general scattering of birds, butterflies,
-chipmunks and squirrels, each of these inferior
-creatures being warned by a voice in its little
-breast to flee. A noble dog would have needed no
-such warning, but would have approached Billy as
-an equal, assured of the reception to which his rank
-entitled him.</p>
-
-<p>Having sole possession of the premises, Billy
-strolled about with a sovereign air. He pulled off
-his cap and turned up his face, letting the sunshine
-warm his cheeks to red and his yellow hair to gold.
-He surveyed the sky with some interest, as there was
-quite a variety of colors to-day, which pleased him
-better than the ordinary white and blue that in his
-opinion too much resembled milk and water. He
-cut a willow stick for a whistle, and examined names
-and dates as he passed the tombstones. Arriving at
-the grave of a boy who had died at his age, he sat
-down, took out his knife, and as he worked whistled
-cheerily above the little fellow whose whistling days
-were over. By and by an occasional chipmunk or
-squirrel ventured out in search of nuts; and at last
-a reckless kitten came within throwing distance. It
-would have been sad for the kitten had the soil been
-sterile and stony; but in that grassy region there was
-nothing to throw except the knife and the stick in the
-boy’s hands. The knife could by no means be
-spared, so away went the whistle with the coward
-cat before it. As the whistle was not to be found
-after a hunt in the thick grass, Billy resumed his
-rambles.</p>
-
-<p>This brought him back to the stile in course of
-time; and he lifted a foot to go over when he was
-stopped by a faint cry. He paused just as he stood,
-one foot on the stile and one on the ground, listening
-breathlessly; for his educated ear knew the animal
-by its voice. Faint as the tones were they were
-unmistakable puppy tones. No kitten’s fretty
-“me-ouw,” no squirrel’s soulless “chir-chir,” was
-there; it was the noble voice of a puppy, though so
-faint and far that Billy could not at once detect its
-source. He listened until the cry came again, prolonged
-and piteous. It was a puppy in distress, a
-little baby dog in need of championship! who so
-ready in the wide world as he to espouse its cause!
-His knightly soul thrilled with pity as he ran eagerly
-about, led hither and thither by the repeated cries.
-He grew wild as he could not find the puppy behind
-a tree or tombstone or anywhere in the grass; and it
-was not until a second voice came to his aid that
-he ran in the right direction. The second voice
-was loud and angry, and provoked the first to shriller
-efforts. Puppies at war! Now Billy was doubly
-anxious to find them, for he could see the
-fun as well as support the under dog. He had
-decided by this time that they were near the fence
-which separated the graveyard from the barley field;
-and as he ran thither a third cry broke upon his ears,
-then a fourth, a fifth&mdash;till voices innumerable
-seemed to join the chorus.</p>
-
-<p>“A dozen, as I’m alive!” said Billy; and by this
-time he had an opportunity to count them, though it
-was by no means easy to count all the big heads and
-little feet which he found struggling, pushing and
-climbing in the old tin pan between the fence and a
-walnut tree. He bent above the moving mass, and
-after various attempts learned that their number was
-seven. In regard to eyes, total blindness indicated
-extreme youth. And as to the cause of their complaint,
-it was evident that they had been abandoned
-in their ignorance and helplessness, and were in need
-of food.</p>
-
-<p>Billy gazed into the pan with emotions of pride and
-compassion; the pride of a discoverer and possessor;
-the compassion of a heart always sensitive to canine
-grief, but moved to its depths by this spectacle of
-blind and orphaned infant woe. Seven little wails
-proceeding from seven hungry mouths, fourteen little
-paws groping and struggling towards escape from
-suffering whose cause was hardly comprehended&mdash;the
-sight might rouse a stouter heart than Billy’s.</p>
-
-<p>“They’re a prize,” thought he, viewing the enormous
-heads and wee paws, critically. “They look
-like rare ones&mdash;Irish setters, perhaps. Bob would
-know. He’s up on those things.”</p>
-
-<p>Bob might also make some helpful suggestions in
-regard to the puppies’ future; for Billy could not
-take them home; he could not leave them to starve,
-and he was far from willing to distribute among his
-friends the orphans whom he had rescued from
-untimely graves, and towards whom his heart was
-beating with such tender interest.</p>
-
-<p>In his dilemma he left the puppies, to consult with
-Bob; and as he ran away, looked in vain for the
-mother dog.</p>
-
-<p>“It would never do to let them starve,” said Bob;
-“but we must give the mother a fair chance. If she
-isn’t back by seven we can conclude they’re abandoned,
-and they shall have a home in my barn, for
-the present.”</p>
-
-<p>Having met at seven, Bob and Billy hastened to
-the graveyard. No mother dog could be seen as they
-approached the stile, and a chorus of loud wails informed
-them that she had not returned. They were
-soon kneeling by the pan, criticising forms and faces;
-at the same time observing with deepest pity how the
-little mouths told their misery and the weary paws
-strove to escape from it.</p>
-
-<div class="figright">
-<img src="images/fig138.jpg" alt="" />
-<p class="caption">BILLY EXPERIENCES UNSPEAKABLE HAPPINESS.</p>
-</div>
-
-<p>“I should judge you were a pointer by your nose,”
-said Bob, addressing the only puppy who could be
-said to have an attempt at the feature. “This may
-be a Newfoundland,” referring to one whose nose
-they would not have discovered but for the end of a
-wee pair of nostrils. “They’re a splendid lot, poor
-babies! It’s a clear case of desertion, Billy. We
-mustn’t leave them here without food another
-moment.”</p>
-
-<p>Billy lifted the rusty old pan and clasped it tenderly
-against his jacket. Then they stepped briskly
-towards the stile, for the graveyard was by no means
-the tempting place it had been two hours ago.</p>
-
-<p>“Keep an eye out for my father,” said Billy.
-“They make such a noise they may get us into trouble.”</p>
-
-<p>But by sometimes crossing streets and turning
-corners suddenly, sometimes running and sometimes
-dodging, they succeeded in reaching the barn without
-encountering friend or acquaintance who would
-betray them.</p>
-
-<p>“Take them in and make them at home on the hay
-while I go for their supper,” said Bob.</p>
-
-<p>At the barn door Billy and the puppies were received
-by no less a person than Timothy, the coachman,
-who had consented to give the orphans a temporary
-asylum. He also bent gravely and critically
-over the pan; but his verdict did not agree with
-Bob’s.</p>
-
-<p>“Mongrel, very mongrel,” said Timothy, shaking
-his head.</p>
-
-<p>The fact that they belonged to his own humble
-rank in life may possibly have increased his sympathy;
-but it is certain that no orphaned kittens could
-have roused such emotions of pity in his manly
-breast. He had a corner ready, cushioned with hay;
-and they were soon rubbing against something better
-adapted to their tender sides than cold tin. But
-though they nestled in the hay as if they liked
-it, their wails continued, and they soon began to
-toddle about in search of food. When Bob came
-bringing it, however, Timothy shook his head and
-said:</p>
-
-<p>“Ten chances to one against touching a drop,
-Billy. I’ve known ’em to die rather than drink it out
-of a saucer at that age.”</p>
-
-<p>A vision of seven little puppies wailing and toddling
-to their doom, of seven cold, stiff forms, seven
-green graves in a row, clouded Billy’s fancy for a
-moment. But no, he would not accept such dark
-possibilities. The puppies must be tenderly persuaded
-what was for their good; and canine reason
-must triumph over mere brute prejudice.</p>
-
-<p>But, alas, for Billy’s faith in canine intelligence&mdash;no
-sooner were the little noses introduced to the
-saucer than wails broke forth with tenfold energy.
-One after another they struggled from his hands and
-toddled away, until the seventh sat afar in the hay,
-with milky nose and empty stomach protesting
-against the insult it had received.</p>
-
-<p>Billy was sorely tried and disappointed; but he considered
-their youth and blindness; he reflected that
-even human intelligence fears what it cannot see, and
-that it becomes one to have much patience with blind
-puppy babies. So he captured them again, individually,
-and repeated the process several times, until
-each, in spite of kicks and screams, had been compelled
-to sniff or lap up a few drops. He did not
-rest till the saucer was emptied; and by that time
-Timothy thought they had probably taken enough to
-preserve life through the night, though not enough to
-make them comfortable and hush their wails.</p>
-
-<p>Billy went home with the wails still in his ears.
-You may be sure, however, that it was not of seven
-weak, blind, crying infants that he dreamed; but of
-seven gallant hounds full-statured, noses cold and
-keen of scent, heads erect and proud&mdash;for faith and
-hope are brave at the age of twelve.</p>
-
-<p>But like other dreams which faith and hope have
-dreamed at night, Billy’s fled at dawn. One-seventh
-of it at least could never come true. One-seventh of
-it was found stiff and still in the hay; and was speedily
-borne to a lonely little grave beneath the apple
-tree.</p>
-
-<p>“What did I tell you?” said Timothy. “They’ll
-all be dead afore night, sooner’n drink from a saucer.
-You’d best drown ’em, Billy, and put ’em out o’
-misery.”</p>
-
-<p>But Billy vowed he would never drown them; that
-he wouldn’t hesitate if they were kittens; but he’d as
-soon drown a baby as a puppy. He was going to
-raise the six! No pains should be spared to rear
-a round half-dozen. Number Seven was the obstinate
-member of the family anyway. Billy knew him
-by the spot on his right ear; and didn’t he remember
-how much harder he kicked than the other six
-last night? Drown them! Never!</p>
-
-<p>An expression, not of disappointment, might have
-been observed on Timothy’s face; although he shook
-his head, saying:</p>
-
-<p>“Mongrel, very mongrel, Billy. It’s my advice to
-drown ’em.”</p>
-
-<p>That head shook frequently during the day; indeed,
-whenever Timothy appeared in the barn door to see
-how Bob and Billy were succeeding. They were not
-to be discouraged by head-shakings; but were rather
-provoked to greater efforts, as perhaps, Timothy
-intended. Hopes prevailed over fears until evening,
-when it became only too evident that a pair of
-the puppies toddled more and more feebly as the
-shadows fell. Applications of milk to their nostrils,
-force, and even mild persuasion, so annoyed them
-that it seemed true kindness to let them depart in
-peace. They were allowed therefore to toddle into a
-secluded corner, where they lay down together, and
-from which they toddled out no more.</p>
-
-<p>“It’s better so,” said Timothy. “They ain’t got
-nothing to go a-huntin’ and cryin’ for now. If they
-ain’t found what they wanted by this time, they don’t
-know the difference.”</p>
-
-<p>It was said with quite a softening of Timothy’s big
-voice, as he gently lifted them for the burial. Billy
-and Bob sat apart, silent and abject, their hands in
-their pockets and scowls upon their brows. But they
-rose and followed Timothy as he advanced to the
-cemetery, bearing a puppy in each hand. Few
-remarks were made until they were returning to the
-barn, when Bob said:</p>
-
-<p>“Brace up, Billy. Four’s a better number than
-seven. You would have found seven a big family on
-your hands. I’ve always noticed a difference in their
-constitutions. Those two never had as much strength
-as the others.”</p>
-
-<p>“Do you think the others will come on?” Billy
-asked, timidly.</p>
-
-<p>“I do,” said Bob. “They’re robust compared to
-the others; and they’ve eaten quite a lot to-day. I
-shouldn’t wonder if their eyes would be open by
-morning.”</p>
-
-<p>Billy was only too glad to hope again, and went
-home to dream of a gallant quartette, in spite of
-Timothy’s parting words:</p>
-
-<p>“Very mongrel, Billy, and no constitution. The
-sooner you put an end to ’em, the better for all
-parties.”</p>
-
-<p>Timothy having spoken, went immediately to the
-kitchen, where he confided to cook the whole tragic
-tale, and said he had heard how oatmeal porridge
-was nourishing for young puppies; “and suppose
-you make us a little, Eliza, with not too much oatmeal
-and a plenty of milk, so ’s ’t’ll go down easy.”</p>
-
-<p>Later, Timothy might have been seen, by the light
-of a lantern, kneeling upon the hay, feeding the
-puppies porridge, which he promised would give them
-“sound sleep with something on their stomachs,” and
-save them perhaps from being dead puppies in the
-morning.</p>
-
-<p>Although Billy dreamed his brave dreams of an
-unbroken quartette, still he stepped into the barn
-with some anxiety the next morning. But the oatmeal
-porridge had proved popular; the puppies took
-it with little urging, and even learned to smell their
-way into its neighborhood. It did not make them
-strong and sprightly; it did not open their eyes;
-but it kept them from dying, and surely this was not
-a small thing to accomplish. The very fact that
-three days went by and no death occurred in the
-family, encouraged them all to hope that a stronger
-tide of life would soon set in, forcing eyes open and
-making legs frisky. But when three other days had
-dragged along,
-Timothy, in a moment
-of impatience
-declared that their
-eyes would never
-open.</p>
-
-<p>“A blind dog is
-sure no good,” said
-he; “and mongrel
-as they are, you’ll drop ’em in the river, if you take
-my advice, Billy.”</p>
-
-<div class="figright">
-<img src="images/fig139.jpg" alt="" />
-<p class="caption">NOTWITHSTANDING THEY ARE MONGREL.</p>
-</div>
-
-<p>Nevertheless he went to Eliza and said: “Why
-not try a little juice of the beef? Meat, as all know,
-is the food for grown dogs. Why not the juice of the
-meat for young dogs without teeth to chew the solid?
-I’ll step around to the butcher’s, Eliza.”</p>
-
-<p>He returned from the butcher’s with a pound of
-chopped beef. Eliza put the water to it; and early
-the next morning Timothy might again have been
-seen kneeling on the hay. He endeavored to persuade
-the puppies that his cup had invigorating properties
-and a cure for blindness; and urged them as
-they loved life and desired to view the face of nature,
-to partake. But, alas, once more for canine reason!
-One after another they sniffed, spit, sputtered, wailed
-and retreated.</p>
-
-<p>“You’re a mongrel, brutish set,” said Timothy, in
-righteous indignation; “and I’ll be blowed if you’re
-worth saving!”</p>
-
-<p>But before he could leave them to their fate, either
-his words, or a sudden instinct of self-preservation,
-turned one of the retreating puppies straight about.
-Timothy was not inclined to offer any assistance and
-run the risk of another disappointment. But when
-it became evident that the puppy was trying to smell
-his way to the beef-tea, he put the cup under his nose,
-and was rewarded by seeing a small pink tongue
-come out for a taste. One taste led to another and
-another, until the little fellow had breakfasted bravely,
-and Timothy was so rejoiced that he tried the obstinate
-three again. But his efforts were vain; and he
-fastened all his hopes on the good puppy, whose conduct
-he hastened to report to Bob and Billy.</p>
-
-<div class="figleft">
-<img src="images/fig140.jpg" alt="" />
-<p class="caption">THE BEEF-TEA PREVAILS.</p>
-</div>
-
-<p>Now whether medical science will allow any direct
-connection between beef-tea and the eyes, we do not
-know, but it is certain that when Billy entered the
-barn two hours later he was startled by a bright gaze.
-If a pair of stars had fallen from the sky to gaze at
-him out of that corner, he could hardly have been
-more amazed than to discover that the bright objects
-were the eyes of a dog&mdash;of his little dog.</p>
-
-<p>“Bob! Timothy!” he screamed. But before they
-could arrive he had bounded towards the puppy and
-lifted him up. Seated upon Billy’s hands he held his
-head erect and looked at his master with (the foolish
-master fancied) affectionate recognition.</p>
-
-<p>“It’s the beef-tea!” said Timothy, who had by
-this time arrived.</p>
-
-<p>“And thanks to you, old friend,” said Billy. “He’ll
-live now, Tim. Do you s’pose he’d change the world
-that’s to be taken a good look at for a hole in the
-ground? Not he!”</p>
-
-<p>“You’re right!” said Timothy. “We must make
-these blind fellows take some of the eye-opener and
-get a look at the world before it’s too late.”</p>
-
-<p>They were all so encouraged by that pair of bright
-eyes that they labored patiently with the three blind
-brothers; but though they still partook of oatmeal
-porridge freely, they could never be induced to
-imbibe more than an occasional drop of beef-tea; and
-instead of waxing fat and active on oatmeal, they
-waned daily.</p>
-
-<p>All the love which Billy had divided among seven
-was given to the quartette; and so a greater portion
-was blighted when the next puppy died.</p>
-
-<p>“It makes me think of the ‘ten little Injuns,’ the
-way they drop off one after another,” said Billy, as
-they laid him away from the sunshine which he had
-never seen.</p>
-
-<p>So the love of four fell to three; and though Billy
-was very proud of the puppy who ate beef-tea, who
-was learning to walk firmly and briskly, he was
-equally as tender of the less fortunate brothers. It
-is true that on entering the barn one morning he forgot
-them for a moment as the other trotted towards
-him and laid&mdash;yes, actually rubbed!&mdash;his nose in his
-hand. But he recovered from the glad surprise
-directly, and looked over at the bed in the corner.
-Still asleep, the lazy fellows! He tossed some hay
-at them, which caused a languid paw to appear; then
-a head stirred, and another until the little soft heap
-had shaken itself apart and separated into two
-puppies, who faced about and looked at each other.
-Yes, for the first and last time, they celebrated their
-awakening after the usual fashion of opening the eyes.</p>
-
-<p>“Hurrah!” shouted Billy.</p>
-
-<p class="c">(END OF PART I.)</p>
-
-<div class="figcenter">
-<img src="images/fig141.jpg" alt="" />
-<p class="caption">IN YE OLDEN TIME.&mdash;“BEWITCHED!”</p>
-</div>
-
-<hr class="full x-ebookmaker-drop" />
-
-<div class="chapter">
-
-<div class="figcenter" id="c41">
-<img src="images/fig142.jpg" alt="" />
-</div>
-
-<h2 class="nobreak">BILLY’S HOUND.<br />
-<span class="tiny">(<i>A Two-Part Story.</i>)</span></h2>
-</div>
-
-
-
-
-<hr class="r5" />
-<p class="c more">BY SARA E. CHESTER.</p>
-<hr class="r6" />
-
-
-
-
-<p class="c">PART II.</p>
-
-<p class="drop-cap">BUT it was his last hurrah; for puppies, like
-people, view the world through their own eyes,
-and where their brother had seen, approved, and desired,
-they gazed quite indifferently. Bob and Billy
-carried them out-doors for a broader view of life; but
-could not persuade them that sunshine and verdure
-were more to be desired than two snug little beds
-underground. Better death, with no good Puppy-land
-to go to; better an end of all things, than life
-with its ups and downs, its roses and thorns, the uncertain
-joys and certain ills that puppy flesh is heir
-to&mdash;such seemed their reflections as they gazed upon
-the world with languid, melancholy eyes. They
-shunned their brother’s gay society; they refused
-food and wailed with hunger; they partook of a little
-and wailed with pain; one died in the evening, yawning
-and stretching; the other in the morning, kicking
-and squealing; two new graves were dug under the
-apple-tree: and one puppy fell heir to the love of six.</p>
-
-<p>“I wouldn’t care so much if they hadn’t opened
-their eyes,” said Billy; “but I thought they were sure
-to live then. It’s discouraging, I declare; I’m afraid
-it’s going to end like the ten little Injuns, ‘And then
-there were none.’”</p>
-
-<p>“No, it won’t,” said Bob. “We’ll raise this fellow.”</p>
-
-<p>“Yes,” said Timothy, “he’s going to live.” When
-Timothy spoke so positively one could afford to hope.</p>
-
-<p>“Do you hear?” said Billy, capturing the lively
-puppy, who was behaving like anything but a mourner
-after the funeral. “We have hopes of you, sir; and
-beware how you disappoint us. See what obstinacy
-has done, and take warning by your brothers. I advise
-you to make the most of all the life you’ll ever
-get, for it isn’t soul that gives you such a knowing
-look. There is nothing behind those eyes but brains;
-and brains die out as much as bodies, sir. Bob,” he
-exclaimed, “see him look at me. Don’t tell me he
-doesn’t understand!”</p>
-
-<p>“I wouldn’t risk such an opinion,” said Bob.
-“They say that eyes are the windows of the mind.
-Now that he’s got his windows open why shouldn’t
-you take looks back and forth.”</p>
-
-<p>“Pretty good,” said Billy. “Duke has spied out
-the fact, somewhere, that I’m his master.”</p>
-
-<p>They had named him, in contempt of Timothy, and
-in anticipation of the rank which was expected to
-assert itself with his growth.</p>
-
-<p>“He certainly makes a difference between you and
-the rest of us,” said Bob.</p>
-
-<p>The difference became more marked each day. In
-no one’s hand did Duke rub his little nose so often as
-in his master’s; no one else’s cheeks were licked so
-affectionately. It was Billy that he trotted after, and
-squealed for, when the big gate separated them and
-his master’s face was set towards home. These signs
-of preference were very flattering to Billy, but also
-caused him pangs, for the fonder he became of the
-dog, the more he feared to lose him. Although he
-increased rapidly in bulk,
-strength, vivacity and intelligence,
-it was a long
-time before Billy could
-cease to be alarmed if
-he appeared languid,
-over-slept, or ate lightly.
-However, he developed
-at last into such a sturdy
-fellow that anxiety on his
-account was absurd. All
-lingering doubts as to his
-loyalty, also, came to an
-end, for Billy had feared
-that his best affections
-might be won over to the
-master who fed him. But
-Duke knew his own master, and did not seem disposed
-to inquire why he was banished from his table.</p>
-
-<div class="figleft">
-<img src="images/fig143.jpg" alt="" />
-<p class="caption">AFTER HIS MASTER.</p>
-</div>
-
-
-<p>The devotion of “Bob’s dog” to Billy was a constant
-source of surprise to the boys who had not heard
-the secret of the mastership. Wherever Billy went,
-the dog was sure to go&mdash;unless ordered to the contrary,
-for whatever Billy ordered, the dog was sure to
-do. His absolute obedience, rather than natural
-talent, made him the accomplished fellow which he
-became. Billy’s will was his dog’s will, and so great
-was the patience of both teacher and scholar that in
-course of time there was hardly a dog in town so
-skilled as Duke in leaping, vaulting, fetching and
-carrying, so at home on land and water&mdash;whether
-summoned to scour a field, explore a bush, stem a tide,
-or save a boy from drowning.</p>
-
-<p>Assured, then, of his life and loyalty, proud of his
-character and his accomplishments, Billy had but
-two things to regret: that Duke was a plebeian and
-an exile.</p>
-
-<p>He had grown to full size, and neither developed
-into pointer, spaniel nor mastiff; into setter, Irish or
-English; into hound, fox, blood or grey. Indeed, he
-had not the positive traits which would admit him
-into any family, however humble. Duke was hopelessly
-“mongrel.”</p>
-
-<p>Considering his stubby paws, blunt nose, ungainly
-shape and indefinite color on the one hand, and on
-the other his intelligence, good-humor, honor and
-fidelity, Billy could not but learn a gradual lesson on
-the folly of judging from appearances. Never, he
-reflected, was canine exterior more plebeian, canine
-character more noble. So, though something of an
-aristocrat by nature, radical principles slowly worked
-in Billy’s mind, until one day, at Timothy’s suggestion
-that he should change Duke’s name, he was prepared
-to answer:</p>
-
-<div class="figright">
-<img src="images/fig144.jpg" alt="" />
-<p class="caption">HE WAS A FAMOUS VAULTER.</p>
-</div>
-
-<p>“No, sir! I believe people ought to rank according
-to their actions. What difference does it make
-how you happen to look, or what family you happen
-to be born into, if you’re a good fellow? My dog
-and I are Americans, and we’ll stand by our principles,
-and take rank according to the
-way we behave; won’t we, old fellow?
-I claim that he’s a duke in
-character, Tim; and he’s handsome
-enough to suit me. I wouldn’t have
-a spot on him changed now.”</p>
-
-<p>To which plebeian Timothy, with
-an approving smile, replied:</p>
-
-<p>“There’s no danger of his getting
-stolen, neither, Billy, for the price
-he’d fetch in market; no more’n he’ll get shot or
-poisoned for his bad temper.”</p>
-
-<p>“No great loss without some small gain,” said
-Billy. “I’m satisfied, except for one thing, Tim.”</p>
-
-<p>That one remaining cause of dissatisfaction Timothy
-appreciated. He knew that Billy would never be
-contented to have the dog which he had saved from
-death, reared and educated an exile from his home;
-and, though he and Bob would have missed Duke
-from their table, they made various plans for getting
-him admitted to Billy’s.</p>
-
-<p>“I was screwing up my courage to lay the case
-before father,” said Billy, “when out he came with
-something about that ugly little dog of Bob’s that
-he’d seen around our house. He warned me not to
-encourage him&mdash;but I can tell you it’s hard work to
-keep Duke away, though he’s such an obedient fellow,
-and the cook never feeds him.”</p>
-
-<p>“Billy,” said Bob, “he’ll have to save your father’s
-life. That’s the way the enemies in books always
-get into favor. Can’t you have him pull him out of
-the water one of these windy days?”</p>
-
-<p>“That’s not such a bad suggestion,” said Billy;
-“the best you’ve made yet. What do you think,
-Duke? Could you swim a mile and pull him ashore?
-I believe he’s equal to it, Bob; and you know father’s
-always tipping over. He generally rights himself, to
-be sure; but he may be glad of a little assistance
-some time. I’ll keep Duke trained on bringing logs
-ashore, and we’ll be on the lookout windy mornings;
-for father never misses a breeze.”</p>
-
-<p>But many a windy morning a dog and his master
-saw a stout gentleman set sail in a frail bark on a
-crafty sea; many a morning they roamed the beach,
-practicing on drowning logs, as they watched the
-wind sport with a distant sail; and however the sail
-might swell and veer, and lie over toward the waves,
-it always came erect and stately into port, while a
-stout gentleman stepped safely ashore.</p>
-
-<p>“The winds are against us, Duke,” said Billy.
-“There’s no use in fooling around the shore any
-longer. I’m going to make a bold strike to-day; and
-if father won’t listen to reason, we’ll just have to
-give it up&mdash;unless we run away and live together.
-What do you say to that?”</p>
-
-<p>Duke replied by a series of barks which Billy
-understood to signify assent.</p>
-
-<p>“We’ll try father first,” said Billy.</p>
-
-<p>He waited till his father was in his after-dinner
-mood. He followed him from the dining-room to the
-piazza, watched his chair go back on two legs, his
-feet go up on the railing, his cigar take its place in
-his teeth, the smoke curl and climb, the newspaper
-turn and turn, and still the courage of the boy on
-the steps did not rise to the occasion. It was not
-until the chair came down on four feet, and the stump
-of cigar dropped over the railing, that Billy ventured
-to speak:</p>
-
-<p>“Father!”</p>
-
-<p>He looked so well pleased with life as he walked,
-portly and smiling, towards his hat, that Billy thought
-now, if ever, he would be willing to please his son.</p>
-
-<p>Hats of various shapes and degrees hung upon the
-rack. There was the broad-brimmed straw in which
-Judge Jenks appeared the country squire; there was
-the little cloth cap in which he rode the waves a gallant
-mariner; there was the soft felt which suited
-rough-and-ready moods; there was the second-best
-beaver; and there was the best beaver, known to Billy
-and his sisters as the “Pet and Pride.”</p>
-
-<p>The choice to-day fell on the “Pet and Pride.”</p>
-
-<p>“Good luck!” thought Billy. “I can get anything
-out of him when he’s petting that hat.”</p>
-
-<p>“Well, my son,” said papa, holding the hat in one
-hand and passing the other caressingly around and
-around the crown, until the fur lay in silkiest smoothness.</p>
-
-<p>But Billy waited until the hat was on, and papa
-surveyed the result in the mirror. It gave him an
-elegant judicial aspect, and was vastly becoming
-beyond a doubt.</p>
-
-<p>“Now’s my time,” thought Billy.</p>
-
-<p>“Father,” said he, “I’d like to have a little talk
-with you&mdash;a little discussion on a certain subject.”</p>
-
-<p>“What is it?” said papa. “The Greenback movement?
-Or have you been catching Communism from
-Pat? What is it, Billy? Have you got the questions
-of the day settled for us? Which shall it be:
-hard or soft money, free-trade or the tariff?”</p>
-
-<p>“I’m not just up on those matters, sir,” said Billy.
-“It’s a different subject.”</p>
-
-<p>“Well,” said papa, giving the “Pet and Pride” a
-parting glance, ere he walked to the door, “well,
-Billy, what is it?”</p>
-
-<p>“It’s&mdash;it’s&mdash;dogs, sir,” said Billy, meekly.</p>
-
-<p>Stern and cold grew the beaming face beneath the
-“Pet and Pride.” Aversion was in the tones which
-repeated Billy’s word “<i>Dogs!</i>”</p>
-
-<p>“And what have you to say on this subject?” inquired
-his father; “that they are faithful, trusty
-beasts? I tell you they are treacherous and villainous;
-that you wish to own one for no reason but
-that they are odious to your father and you are determined
-to have your own way! I reply better than
-you deserve, and offer you once more a goat, or a
-pair of them.”</p>
-
-<p>“Thanks. It’s a dog or nothing, sir,” said Billy.</p>
-
-<p>“As you please,” said his father. “But understand
-that this subject is not to come up again. Nothing
-could induce me to have a snarling, snapping,
-vicious, treacherous cur on the premises; and you
-are never to mention dogs to me again, sir.”</p>
-
-<p>Billy stalked out of one gate and his father out of
-another.</p>
-
-<p>“He has the Jenks will,” reflected his father, not
-without an emotion of pride. “A dog or nothing,
-indeed!”</p>
-
-<p>But the Jenks will did not support Billy very
-bravely as he walked on towards Bob’s; and by the
-time he reached the gate, anger, pride and all harsh,
-inspiring feelings had given place to sadness. Bob
-told Timothy afterwards that he had never seen Billy
-so nearly “floored.” He did not need to ask the
-result of his interview; but proposed that he should
-accompany him to the post-office, whither he was
-hastening with a letter.</p>
-
-<p>The wind which had lured Billy to the shore in the
-morning still rose in fitful gusts, playing tricks with
-all detached objects, greatly to the delight of Duke
-who ran in pursuit of every flying thing.</p>
-
-<p>Billy’s eyes followed the dog gloomily.</p>
-
-<p>“If it wasn’t for that leg of father’s that got bitten
-thirty years ago!” he said. “Speaking of angels,
-there goes father now. Hold on to your hat, Bob.”</p>
-
-<p>Each boy seized his hat as a sudden gust came
-sweeping down the street. But papa, who had
-appeared in view a block ahead of them, walked
-calmly on, as if assured that no impertinent breeze
-would dare molest the “Pet and Pride.” He was so
-confident and careless that the wind could not resist
-taking him down a little, and lifting the hat whirled
-it about his head.</p>
-
-<p>The uncovered judge put forth his hand, but the
-movement was too grave and deliberate; the wind
-wished to play tag, and it takes two to play at that
-game, so the judge must be taught how. As the
-deliberate hand almost reached the hat, off skipped
-the wind with it, compelling the judge with a stately
-skip to follow. But he could be taught even swifter
-motions than those; a second time he almost reached
-the hat, and it moved on with a hop and a whirl;
-while he, with something like a hop and a whirl,
-moved after. But still the hat, so near his hand, was
-not in it. His indignation rose. He could not allow
-matters to proceed after this unruly fashion. With a
-plunge he pounced on his property&mdash;when, lo! it
-lay across the ditch in the dust of the road, while his
-tormentor laughed at him!</p>
-
-<p>But no, it was not the wind that laughed after all,
-though it seemed quite human enough to do so&mdash;the
-shrill tones proceeded from three open mouths on the
-corner. How dare those ragged urchins lift up their
-voices in derision of a Judge of the Supreme Court!
-Better, perhaps, to lose the hat than gratify them by
-pursuing it. But it was his “Pet and Pride”&mdash;by no
-means an inexpensive affair; a city hat, only to be
-replaced by a day’s journey; and then he might
-never find such an easy fit again.</p>
-
-<p>After two or three somersets the hat stood still,
-unhurt, except for a little dust. The wind fell as suddenly
-as it had risen, and the judge was enabled to
-recover his property without sacrificing his dignity.
-At least so he flattered himself as he walked at his
-usual gait over the ditch, into the road. He had not
-calculated on another gust; and when the hat was
-actually snatched almost out of his grasp again,
-rather than become the sport of those rascals on the
-corner he decided to let it go, and run the risk of
-getting it at the next ebb of the wind.</p>
-
-<p>He was turning away when he happened to see
-near the corner a big, black mud-puddle, lying in wait
-for unwary victims of the wind. If the wind and
-water had conspired to tease him they could not have
-succeeded better. While the hat was blown directly
-towards the puddle, the water was at the same time
-lashed upward to show him how black and muddy it
-was, how totally destructive to hats.</p>
-
-<p>He felt tempted to pursue the “Pet and Pride” at a
-flying gait; but as he paused to consider the boys on
-the corner, the mud-puddle lost its terrors in a new
-object which appeared upon the scene. This was
-nothing less than a dog that came galloping after
-the hat with almost the speed of the wind. Better
-that the “Pet and Pride” should be drowned in the
-muddiest depths than become a puppy’s plaything,
-thought the judge. It was too late for him to rescue
-it by this time. The hat was doomed to the dog or
-the water&mdash;the water he sincerely hoped, as he prepared
-to seek the nearest store where a covering for
-his head could be found.</p>
-
-<p>But as he was turning away he observed that the
-chances were in the dog’s favor. It was wonderful
-to see those four little paws fly over the ground. They
-were gaining on the wind, no doubt about it. Gaining,
-gaining&mdash;till the race was so close that one
-must wait a moment and see it out. “Ah, the rascal
-has it! No, you little scamp, you’re beaten! You
-didn’t count on that gust, sir!”</p>
-
-<p>But as the judge so soliloquized, a familiar voice
-behind him shouted, “Fly, Duke, fly!” With a leap
-those four winged feet overtook the gust; and there
-stood the dog at the edge of the mud-puddle, carefully
-holding the “Pet and Pride” in his teeth.</p>
-
-<p>The judge recognized that “ugly little dog of
-Bob’s” at the same time that he recognized his son’s
-voice; and presently he discovered that the race had
-been run not for his torment, nor for mere amusement,
-but for the purpose of rescuing and restoring
-his property.</p>
-
-<p>“Well, well,” said the judge, as Duke trotted up
-and presented the hat to him; “well, well, Bob, you’ve
-a fine dog, sir; a gentlemanly fellow, upon my word.
-You’ve trained him well, Bob. He does you credit,
-he does indeed.”</p>
-
-<p>Bob rapped Billy with his elbow, as much as to
-say, “Here’s your golden opportunity; speak up!”</p>
-
-<p>“He’s mine, sir,” Billy blurted out.</p>
-
-<p>“<i>Yours!</i>” said the judge, removing his hand from
-the canine head he was actually condescending to
-pat; “<i>yours!</i>”</p>
-
-<p>Encouraged by another rap Billy continued:</p>
-
-<p>“You can’t say that he’s ever given you any trouble,
-father. He’s never eaten a mouthful at home.”</p>
-
-<p>“What do you think of such deception, sir?” said
-his father. “Do you mean to tell me that you have
-been boarding him out?”</p>
-
-<p>“No, sir; he lives on charity. Bob supports
-him.”</p>
-
-<p>“Charity!” said his father. “What do you mean,
-sir?”</p>
-
-<p>But as he dusted the “Pet and Pride,” caressing it as
-of old, he took a kindly peep at the little head by his
-knee, and gave it one more pat before moving away.</p>
-
-<p>“You’re all right, old boy,” said Bob. “You’ve had
-your chance; that wind did you a good turn, after
-all. It doesn’t sound quite so fine to say Duke saved
-his hat as his life, but it amounts to the same in the
-end. Just keep cool, Billy, and you’re all right.”</p>
-
-<p>It was not very easy to keep cool, however. Billy
-hoped and watched and waited a whole day before
-the subject of dogs was mentioned again.</p>
-
-<p>“Where did you get him?” asked his father, as
-the smoke began to curl from his after-dinner cigar.</p>
-
-<p>“Him?” said Billy, confusedly. “Oh, Duke? I
-found him in the graveyard, with six more. The
-mother had left them, and I couldn’t let them die&mdash;though
-the rest did, after all. But we succeeded in
-raising Duke; and I couldn’t part with him after all
-that, sir.”</p>
-
-<p>“Don’t attempt to excuse your obstinacy,” said his
-father, inwardly commenting on “that Jenks will.”
-“He’s a trained animal, I see. That is where the
-time has gone which should have been devoted to
-Latin. A very bad report that last, sir. Is he anything
-of a mouser?”</p>
-
-<p>“Splendid!” said Billy.</p>
-
-<p>Nothing more was said until the “Pet and Pride,”
-after the usual amount of caressing, was surveyed in
-the mirror&mdash;then tender memories prompted papa to
-say, gruffly:</p>
-
-<p>“He is not to live on charity like a beggar. Shut
-him up in the store-room, if he’s good for anything,
-and let him have it out with the rats. But keep him
-away from me, sir. Let him be fed in the basement,
-but let him understand that he is not to come above
-ground where I can see him;
-and remember that he is on
-trial&mdash;distinctly on trial.”</p>
-
-<div class="figright">
-<img src="images/fig145.jpg" alt="" />
-<p class="caption">WITH DUKE’S COMPLIMENTS.</p>
-</div>
-
-
-<p>The glad news was at once
-conveyed to Duke, Bob and
-Timothy; and Billy was a happy
-boy&mdash;for a few days. Like
-other mortals of whom we hear,
-having gained much he wished
-to gain more. He
-was not satisfied that
-Duke had conquered the rats and won the servants’
-affections. He wished his higher accomplishments
-to shine in higher circles. He wanted his dog admitted
-to the full privileges of citizenship. He
-longed to introduce him to his own room on the
-second floor, and he found stern discipline necessary
-to keep him from the first floor.</p>
-
-<p>Having investigated the kitchen, Duke felt a
-natural curiosity as to the parlor, and he was often
-caught on the top stair, peeping into the hall. Billy’s
-sisters called him up, but could not make him disobey
-his master. However he might stretch his neck,
-wag, cry and peer wistfully, he could not be tempted
-to put a paw on the hall floor.</p>
-
-<p>“Where did he learn obedience?” said the judge
-one day, after observing his daughters’ vain attempts.
-“Certainly not of his master. But perhaps you know
-the secret, Billy, and can give it to me to try on my
-son. I should like to see if there’s anything to be
-done with that will of his.”</p>
-
-<p>“Duke has never had any teacher but me, sir,” said
-Billy. “Shall I forbid his coming on the stairs?”</p>
-
-<p>“Come up here,” said the judge, snapping his
-fingers towards Duke. “Let’s see what you think of
-this hall before we send you down.”</p>
-
-<p>But to his surprise the dog did not obey.</p>
-
-<p>“Come!” said Billy; and at the word he leaped
-toward his master, then looked about for some means
-of expressing gratitude. Spying a newspaper, and
-newspapers and elderly gentlemen being associated in
-his mind, he fetched it and presented it to the judge.
-The next noon he was
-summoned again. By
-that time he had discovered
-that the newspaper
-was taken with the cigar,
-and no sooner saw the
-one produced than he
-ran in search of the other.
-After a few days it happened
-that the judge
-dropped all responsibility
-in regard to his paper.
-He took his cigar and sat
-down, assured that wherever
-the paper might be,
-to what remote corner of
-the house any careless
-member of the family
-might have taken it, that knowing little dog would
-find it for him.</p>
-
-<div class="figleft">
-<img src="images/fig146.jpg" alt="" />
-<p class="caption">THE CIRCUS.</p>
-</div>
-
-<p>Having proved that he was a useful member of
-society, Billy wished Duke to display his higher accomplishments,
-and one day introduced to the dining-room
-what was known down-stairs as the Circus.
-Judge Jenks was greatly entertained, and the next
-day undertook to be circus-manager
-himself. He succeeded so well that
-it became an after-dinner custom
-for Duke to speak, leap and dance
-at his bidding. It was funny to
-see the portly gentleman whistling
-sprightly airs, with the greatest
-gravity of countenance, while the
-little dog, with countenance as
-grave, spun around on two
-feet, wholly intent upon keeping
-time to the tune. He would
-become a lion, monkey, or squirrel at command, but
-the last was his favorite character, as it involved nuts,
-which he must sit upright and nibble. After his fondness
-for almonds was discovered Billy noticed that they
-were seldom missing from dessert without being called
-for. By many little indications he was persuaded that
-Duke’s merits had overcome his father’s prejudices.
-But after all Duke was only a dog, with faults as well
-as virtues; and while he was still on trial Billy could
-not help fearing that some mischievous prank might
-end the trial unfavorably. He waited many days,
-hoping that his father would declare the probation
-ended; but at last there came a day when Duke gave
-a table-cloth a shaking which brought the judge’s
-favorite meerschaum pipe to ruin. Billy considered
-the misfortune fatal.</p>
-
-<div class="figright">
-<img src="images/fig147.jpg" alt="" />
-<p class="caption">NOTHING COULD BE WORSE THAN THIS.</p>
-</div>
-
-<p>“It’s come at last. All’s up with us,” he thought,
-as he administered the punishment customary for
-such offences. But what was his surprise to hear his
-father say, sternly:</p>
-
-<p>“That will do; that will do, sir! Who left the
-pipe on the table? You had better find out and save
-some of your blows for the chief offender. How
-would you fare if I should deal out justice to you at
-that rate? Dogs will be dogs, sir; and Duke’s none
-the worse for an occasional overflow of spirits.”</p>
-
-<p>“Thank you, father, for defending my dog,” said
-Billy, warmly. “I was afraid it might end in my
-having to part with him.”</p>
-
-<p>“Part with him?” said his father. “A very good
-suggestion. The best thing you can do. I advise
-you to part with him by all means. I should recommend
-an elderly gentleman who has learned to temper
-justice with mercy; one who needs a cheerful,
-young companion, competent and willing either to
-wait upon him or amuse him; one who will promise
-the dog a permanent home, and agree not to be too
-hard upon him for trifling offences. Allow me to
-recommend Judge Jenks, sir.”</p>
-
-<p>“With Judge Jenks’ permission, I’ll take the home
-and keep the dog,” said Billy.</p>
-
-<p>“We will call it a bargain,” said his father, his
-eyes twinkling as he added, “remarkable what a difference
-there is in dogs; eh, Billy?”</p>
-
-<p>“Yes, sir!” said Billy.</p>
-<hr class="full x-ebookmaker-drop" />
-
-<div class="chapter">
-
-
-<h2 class="nobreak" id="c42">PUSSY WILLOW AND THE SOUTH WIND.</h2>
-</div>
-
-
-<div class="poetry-container">
-<div class="poetry">
-<div class="stanza">
-<div class="verse indent0"><span class="big3">F</span>ie! moping still by the sleepy brook?</div>
-<div class="verse indent0">Little Miss Pussy, how dull you look!</div>
-</div><div class="stanza">
-<div class="verse indent0">Prithee, throw off that cloak of brown,</div>
-<div class="verse indent0">And give me a glimpse of your gray silken gown!</div>
-</div><div class="stanza">
-<div class="verse indent0">My gray silken gown, Sir Wind, is done,</div>
-<div class="verse indent0">Put its golden fringes are not quite spun.</div>
-</div><div class="stanza">
-<div class="verse indent0">What a slow little spinner! pray, pardon me,</div>
-<div class="verse indent0">But I have had time to cross the sea.</div>
-</div><div class="stanza">
-<div class="verse indent0">Haste forth, dear Miss Pussy! the sky is blue,</div>
-<div class="verse indent0">And I’ve a secret to whisper to you.</div>
-</div><div class="stanza">
-<div class="verse indent0">Nay, nay, they say Winds are changeful things,</div>
-<div class="verse indent0">I’ll wait, if you please, till the Bluebird sings.</div>
-</div>
-</div>
-</div>
-
-
-<hr class="full x-ebookmaker-drop" />
-
-<div class="chapter">
-<h2 class="nobreak" id="c43">LITTLE SISTER AND HER PUPPETS.</h2>
-</div>
-
-<hr class="r5" />
-<p class="c more">BY REV. W. W. NEWTON.</p>
-<hr class="r6" />
-
-<div class="figleft">
-<img src="images/fig148.jpg" alt="" />
-<p class="caption1">GOOD NIGHT, LOVELY STAR.</p>
-</div>
-
-<p class="drop-cap">THERE was a dear
-little girl once
-whose name was Emily,
-but everybody called her
-“Little Sister,” because
-she was so sweet, and
-loved everyone.</p>
-
-<p>She couldn’t pronounce
-some words plainly, and
-people used to get her to
-talk, on purpose to hear
-the cunning words used.</p>
-
-<p>She used to sing a little
-song before she went
-to bed, and this was the way she sang it:</p>
-
-
-<div class="poetry-container">
-<div class="poetry">
-<div class="stanza">
-<div class="verse indent0">“Good night nitten tar (little star)</div>
-<div class="verse indent1">I mun (must) go to my bed</div>
-<div class="verse indent0">And neave (leave) you to burn</div>
-<div class="verse indent1">While I nay (lay) down my head,</div>
-</div><div class="stanza">
-<div class="verse indent0">On my pinnow (pillow) to neep (sleep)</div>
-<div class="verse indent1">Till the morning light,</div>
-<div class="verse indent0">When you mill (will) be fading</div>
-<div class="verse indent1">And I mill (will) be bight (bright).”</div>
-</div>
-</div>
-</div>
-
-<p>As she sang this little song, she would lean her
-face up against the window pane and throw a sweet
-kiss to the star and say, “Dud night, you nubny
-(lovely) nitten (little) tar!” (star.)</p>
-
-<p>“Little Sister” used to make everybody love her who
-came near her. The grown-up people would always
-want to take her right up in their laps, and the little
-children loved to have her come up with her flowing
-silken hair and put her arms around them and kiss
-them.</p>
-
-<p>When she went out with her sled in winter time,
-the gentlemen used to want to pull her, and the little
-boys would always drag her sled up hill again
-after a slide.</p>
-
-<p>This was because she was so kind and
-sweet, and had such polite ways.</p>
-
-<p>Little Sister used to love to go and see
-some puppets which were exhibited at a
-Punch-and-Judy show near where she lived.</p>
-
-<p>The men used to stand under a great overspreading
-elm tree and work their puppets
-there, but there were so many people around
-the show that she could not see it plainly.
-Betsey, her nurse, used to hold her up, but
-still Little Sister couldn’t see it all.</p>
-
-<p>On Little Sister’s fourth birthday, when
-she came down into the dining-room at breakfast
-time, what should she see over in one
-corner of the room but a puppet stand, with
-six puppets. First of all there was Punch,
-and then there was Judy; then there was the
-Doctor and the Judge, and the Policeman and
-Sheriff.</p>
-
-<p>She was delighted. “Where did this come
-from?” she asked.</p>
-
-<p>Then her papa told her that he had had
-the stand made for her, and had bought the
-puppets as a birthday present.</p>
-
-<p>These puppets he worked with his thumb
-and fingers.</p>
-
-<p>“Oh! what nubney nitten puppets!” said
-Little Sister, and off she ran to show them to
-her mamma.</p>
-
-<p>Then in the afternoon of her birthday, her
-mother invited some little friends to come in
-and see the first exhibition of Little’s Sister’s
-puppets.</p>
-
-<p>Nobody could see how her papa worked
-them from behind the stand.</p>
-
-<p>They were ever so funny. One puppet was named
-Tommy, and he sat down to eat a piece of meat.
-Then the pussy-cat came on the boards, and walked
-right up to Tommy to take away the meat he had in
-his hands. Tommy gave the cat a hit on the head
-with his funny arm, and then pussy stood up on her
-hind legs and hit Tommy back. Finally pussy got
-hold of the piece of meat and jumped down, while
-poor little Tommy was left alone crying. Pussy was
-beautifully dressed up with a white paper ruffle
-around her neck, and pink ribbons tied on her feet
-and tail.</p>
-
-<div class="figright">
-<img src="images/fig149.jpg" alt="" />
-<p class="caption">LITTLE SISTER’S BIRTHDAY PRESENT.</p>
-</div>
-
-<p>Then Tommy brought his naughty cat who had
-stolen the meat, before the Judge, an old wise-looking
-man, with a grey wig on, and the Judge sentenced
-pussy to be put in prison.</p>
-
-<p>There was a prison all ready, which Little Sister’s
-papa had made out of a paper box. There were
-slats in it, and it was painted black, and had the
-word “Prison” printed at the top of it in large black
-letters.</p>
-
-<p>Poor pussy, the thief, looked very sadly when the
-puppet policeman marched her off to prison.</p>
-
-<p>Then there was old Punch, who threw the baby
-out of the window, and was also taken before the
-Judge and was hanged.</p>
-
-<p>Then Tommy got sick from eating too much meat,
-and the Doctor had to come and bleed him. This
-made all the little folks laugh ever so much.</p>
-
-<p>After this, Judy went to a store to buy some
-sausage, and when she got it home it turned into a
-snake and ran away.</p>
-
-<div class="figleft">
-<img src="images/fig150.jpg" alt="" />
-<p class="caption">THE POLICEMAN PUTS PUSSY IN A SAFE PLACE.</p>
-</div>
-
-<p>Then Tommy took up his father’s musket to fire it
-off and the gun went to pieces, and poor little Tommy
-was blown up in the air; his head and hands and
-feet were all blown away from his body and there was
-nothing left of him.</p>
-
-<p>Then there was a paper doll named Polly Flinders,
-who set herself on fire.</p>
-
-<p>This was the song Little Sister’s papa sang in a
-piping, squeaky voice, when he made little Polly dance:</p>
-
-<div class="poetry-container">
-<div class="poetry">
-<div class="stanza">
-<div class="verse indent0">“Little Polly Flinders</div>
-<div class="verse indent0">Sat among the cinders</div>
-<div class="verse indent1">A-warming her pretty little toes;</div>
-<div class="verse indent0">Her mother came and caught her</div>
-<div class="verse indent0">And spanked her little daughter</div>
-<div class="verse indent1">For burning her nice new clothes.”</div>
-</div>
-</div>
-</div>
-
-<p>When he got through singing this funny little song,
-he would set Polly on fire and then put her in a toy
-wash-tub, and all of a sudden a little fire-engine
-would appear and squirt water on her in the wash-tub.
-Then the curtain would drop down, and Punch
-would put his head out and say in a squealing little
-voice, “Children, don’t you ever play with fire.”</p>
-
-<p>These were some of the ways in which Little
-Sister and her papa amused their friends on Saturday
-afternoons.</p>
-
-<p>Sometimes Little Sister and her brother invited
-poor children to come in and see the funny puppets
-work. Sometimes these little children went
-with their papa while he showed the puppets to poor
-little children in some of the houses and asylums in
-the city where they lived.</p>
-
-<p>One time they all went to the Children’s Hospital,
-where the sick children were, and made the poor
-little things laugh over the funny doings of Tommy
-and Jerry, and Pussy and Polly Flinders.</p>
-
-<p>And in this way dear Little Sister and her little
-playthings did good to others; for we can serve God
-and be doing good by making others happy even in
-our plays, and with the toys which are given to us,
-instead of keeping them selfishly for ourselves.</p>
-
-<div class="figcenter">
-<img src="images/fig151.jpg" alt="" />
-</div>
-
-<div class="figcenter1">
-<img src="images/fig152.jpg" alt="" />
-<p class="caption">FIRST SPRING FLOWERS.</p>
-</div>
-
-
-<hr class="full x-ebookmaker-drop" />
-
-<div class="chapter">
-
-
-<h2 class="nobreak" id="c44">SPRING FUN.</h2>
-</div>
-
-
-<div class="poetry-container">
-<div class="poetry">
-<div class="stanza">
-<div class="verse indent0"><span class="big4">T</span>HE best of fun, I tell you, boys&mdash;</div>
-<div class="verse indent1">I wonder if you know?&mdash;</div>
-<div class="verse indent0">Is to get a dozen polywogs</div>
-<div class="verse indent1">And find out how frogs grow.</div>
-</div><div class="stanza">
-<div class="verse indent0">You go and catch them in the pond,</div>
-<div class="verse indent1">Along in early spring;</div>
-<div class="verse indent0">And when you stir them up&mdash;O, my!</div>
-<div class="verse indent1">They squirm like anything!</div>
-</div><div class="stanza">
-<div class="verse indent0">They are just like a little spot</div>
-<div class="verse indent1">Of jelly, with two eyes;</div>
-<div class="verse indent0">And such a funny little tail,</div>
-<div class="verse indent1">Of quite astounding size.</div>
-</div><div class="stanza">
-<div class="verse indent0">You put them in a great big dish&mdash;</div>
-<div class="verse indent1">A large bowl is the best.</div>
-<div class="verse indent0">They swim and squirm, and squirm and swim,</div>
-<div class="verse indent1">And never seem to rest.</div>
-</div><div class="stanza">
-<div class="verse indent0">Put in some dirt and water plants&mdash;</div>
-<div class="verse indent1">I’ve known them to eat meat.</div>
-<div class="verse indent0">They’ll grow and grow so beautiful</div>
-<div class="verse indent1">The girls would call them <i>sweet</i>.</div>
-</div><div class="stanza">
-<div class="verse indent0">And bunches by and by appear&mdash;</div>
-<div class="verse indent1">On each side there are two.</div>
-<div class="verse indent0">And little legs, like sprouting plants,</div>
-<div class="verse indent1">Will pretty soon peep through.</div>
-</div><div class="stanza">
-<div class="verse indent0">The legs grow long, the tail grows short;</div>
-<div class="verse indent1">And by and by you’ll see</div>
-<div class="verse indent0">There isn’t any tail at all</div>
-<div class="verse indent1">Where a tail used to be.</div>
-</div><div class="stanza">
-<div class="verse indent0">And froggy now can jump on land,</div>
-<div class="verse indent1">Or in the water swim.</div>
-<div class="verse indent0">And scientific men will now</div>
-<div class="verse indent1">“Amphibious” call him.</div>
-</div>
-</div>
-</div>
-
-<hr class="full x-ebookmaker-drop" />
-
-<div class="chapter">
-
-
-<h2 class="nobreak" id="c45">THE LOST DIMPLE.</h2>
-</div>
-
-<hr class="r5" />
-<p class="c more">BY MARY D. BRINE.</p>
-<hr class="r6" />
-
-
-<div class="poetry-container">
-<div class="poetry">
-<div class="stanza">
-<div class="verse indent0"><span class="big">M</span>Y little boy lies in his trundle bed,</div>
-<div class="verse indent0">With chubby arms above his head,</div>
-<div class="verse indent0">And a rosy flush on his cheek so fair,</div>
-<div class="verse indent0">And a gleam of gold in his tangled hair;</div>
-<div class="verse indent0">His beautiful eyes, so soft and blue,</div>
-<div class="verse indent0">’Neath rose leaf lids are hidden from view;</div>
-<div class="verse indent0">For sound asleep is my little boy,</div>
-<div class="verse indent0">My troublesome comfort, baby Roy!</div>
-</div><div class="stanza">
-<div class="verse indent0">But ah! there’s something upon his cheek</div>
-<div class="verse indent0">Of which I do not like to speak;</div>
-<div class="verse indent0">So I kneel beside my baby dear,</div>
-<div class="verse indent0">And softly <i>kiss away the tear</i>.</div>
-<div class="verse indent0">And I kiss from his rosy mouth a <i>pout</i>,</div>
-<div class="verse indent0">Which even slumber has not smoothed out.</div>
-<div class="verse indent0">And I have another kiss to spare,</div>
-<div class="verse indent0">To smooth the frown from his forehead fair.</div>
-</div><div class="stanza">
-<div class="verse indent0">How came the tear and the pout and frown</div>
-<div class="verse indent0">On this dear little face to settle down?</div>
-<div class="verse indent0">Ah well! I’m sorry to have to say</div>
-<div class="verse indent0">That Roy was a naughty boy to-day.</div>
-<div class="verse indent0">It wasn’t pleasant to play, you see,</div>
-<div class="verse indent0">When Roy and mamma couldn’t agree;</div>
-<div class="verse indent0">So he went to Dreamland to find a smile,</div>
-<div class="verse indent0">And the dimples will come in a little while.</div>
-</div><div class="stanza">
-<div class="verse indent0">There’s one should be in his cheek, right there,</div>
-<div class="verse indent0">And one belongs in his chin. ’Tis rare</div>
-<div class="verse indent0">That I look in vain for the merry trace</div>
-<div class="verse indent0">Of the winsome dimples in baby’s face!</div>
-<div class="verse indent0">But, by and by, he will open his eyes,</div>
-<div class="verse indent0">All soft and blue as the summer skies:</div>
-<div class="verse indent0">And when he laughs at my merry call,</div>
-<div class="verse indent0">I shall find the dimples, the smiles, and all.</div>
-</div>
-</div>
-</div>
-
-<hr class="full x-ebookmaker-drop" />
-
-<div class="chapter">
-
-<div class="figcenter" id="c46">
-<img src="images/fig153.jpg" alt="" />
-</div>
-
-<h2 class="nobreak">THE OTHER SIDE OF THE STORY.</h2>
-</div>
-
-
-
-<hr class="r5" />
-<p class="c more">BY KATE LAWRENCE.</p>
-<hr class="r6" />
-
-<div class="figleft">
-<img src="images/fig154.jpg" alt="" />
-<p class="caption">WATCHING FOR PAPA.</p>
-</div>
-
-
-<p class="drop-cap">THERE were once two little bears who lived in
-a cave in the woods.</p>
-
-<p>Papa Bear had been killed by a hunter, and his
-skin made into a coat, which the hunter wore while
-killing other bears.</p>
-
-<p>Mamma Bear accepted this hard fact, but the little
-bears never gave up hoping that he would come, and
-they used to watch for him at the window every day.</p>
-
-<p>One day when they were watching, they saw two
-little boys who had come into the woods for berries.
-Their baskets were about half full, but some dispute
-had arisen, and the luscious fruit hung ungathered
-while the two boys fought&mdash;boxing and scratching
-one another in a manner too shocking to be described.</p>
-
-<p>“O, Mamma Bear!” they cried together, “do
-come and see; here are two of those dreadful creatures
-whom you call boys&mdash;they are fighting terribly.”</p>
-
-<p>“Don’t stand and look at them, my darlings,” said
-Mamma B.; (the children sometimes called her
-Mamma B.) “‘evil communications corrupt good
-manners.’”</p>
-
-<p>“What does that mean Mamma B.,” asked the
-little bears.</p>
-
-<p>Now Mamma Bear did not like this question, for
-she did not know exactly what it meant herself. But
-she managed to say, “It means, my dears, that if you
-like to stand and watch boys and girls when they are
-quarrelling and fighting, you will soon get to be as
-bad as they are yourselves.”</p>
-
-<p>At this both the little bears put their paws up over
-their faces, and cried, “O, Mamma B.!” for their
-feelings were dreadfully hurt by this comparison.
-“O, Mamma B., we <i>couldn’t</i> be so bad! never,
-never!”</p>
-
-<p>“I hope not,” said Mamma B., kindly; “but when
-I was a little bear, my mother used to say, sometimes,
-that her children were as cross as boys and
-girls.”</p>
-
-<p>“O, Mamma B.!” cried the little bears again.
-“Boys and girls are dreadful creatures, aren’t they?”</p>
-
-<div class="figcenter">
-<img src="images/fig155.jpg" alt="" />
-<p class="caption">THE SLEEP OF THE INNOCENT.</p>
-</div>
-
-<p>“Men and women are dreadful creatures,” said
-Mamma B.; “and though their babies are very gentle
-and playful at first, it will not do to trust them.
-Human nature soon begins to show itself. Men often
-kill, not to get their food, or defend themselves against
-their natural enemies, as bears do, but for the <i>pleasure</i>
-of killing. Besides they kill each other; and
-that, you know, bears very seldom do.”</p>
-
-<p>“But we kill lambs and calves, mamma dear,” said
-one little bear, proudly; “I have killed a chicken myself!”</p>
-
-<p>“That was for your natural food,” said Mamma
-Bear, beaming upon him fondly. “The most intelligent
-animals are those which, like bears, eat both
-meat and vegetables. Men are <i>almost</i> as intelligent
-as we are; but they never will be truly wise, until
-they learn to live in peace with each other, as bears
-do.”</p>
-
-<p>Before the little bears went to bed that night, their
-mamma taught them this pretty little hymn:</p>
-
-<div class="poetry-container">
-<div class="poetry">
-<div class="stanza">
-<div class="verse indent0">“Let boys delight to scold and fight,</div>
-<div class="verse indent1">For ’tis their nature to;</div>
-<div class="verse indent0">Let naughty children scratch and bite&mdash;</div>
-<div class="verse indent1">All human beings do.</div>
-</div><div class="stanza">
-<div class="verse indent0">“But little bearies, never let</div>
-<div class="verse indent1">Your angry passions rise;</div>
-<div class="verse indent0">Your little paws were never made</div>
-<div class="verse indent1">To tear each other’s eyes.”</div>
-</div>
-</div>
-</div>
-
-<p>When the little bears could recite this perfectly,
-they went to sleep with their paws around each
-other’s necks, resolving that they would never, never
-quarrel, for fear that they might sometime get to be
-as bad as boys and girls; and their mamma could not
-but feel grateful that they were so docile.</p>
-
-<hr class="full x-ebookmaker-drop" />
-
-<div class="chapter">
-
-<h2 class="nobreak" id="c47">JACK HORNER.</h2>
-</div>
-
-
-<p class="drop-cap">ALMOST every child has been early taught to
-repeat the lines:</p>
-
-<div class="poetry-container">
-<div class="poetry">
-<div class="stanza">
-<div class="verse indent0">“Little Jack Horner</div>
-<div class="verse indent0">Sat in the corner,</div>
-<div class="verse indent7">Eating a Christmas pie;</div>
-<div class="verse indent0">He put in his thumb,</div>
-<div class="verse indent0">And pulled out a plum,</div>
-<div class="verse indent7">And said, ‘What a brave boy am I!’”</div>
-</div>
-</div>
-</div>
-
-<p>And Jack has generally been regarded as a nice,
-fat little boy, who, having pleased his mother by his
-good conduct, has been rewarded by a pie of his own.
-And we have thought of him as sitting quietly in the
-chimney-corner, enjoying his pie; and when he pulled
-out that plum, wondering if it were full of plums.</p>
-
-<p>But among the many “investigations” of the present
-day, it appears that Jack Horner, though a boy,
-was a “defaulter” to a serious amount, and the plum
-which he pulled out of his pie cost the life of another.</p>
-
-<p>A tradition which had its rise in the county of
-Somersetshire, England, has at last found a place in
-history, and seems to be looked upon as reliable.</p>
-
-<p>During the imperious reign of Henry VIII., he procured
-by an act of Parliament the abolishment of several
-hundred monasteries, and a court was established for
-the management of their revenues and their silver,
-all of which he ordered granted for his benefit.</p>
-
-<p>When this act came in force, at the monastery at
-Wells it was determined by the abbot that the title-deeds
-of the abbey estates, and the valuable grange
-attached, should not be confiscated by the king, but
-sent to the commissioners at London.</p>
-
-<p>The abbot, wishing for some safe method of conveying
-them, finally hit upon this curious device. To
-avoid their being taken, he thought the safest method
-would be to put them in a pie, which should be sent
-as a present to one of the commissioners. The
-trustiest messenger, and one little likely to excite suspicion,
-was a boy named Jack Horner, the son of poor
-parents, living in the neighborhood of the monastery.
-He set out on foot carrying the pie.</p>
-
-<p>It was a tiresome journey, and the road probably
-had few attractions, so, selecting a comfortable corner
-on the wayside, Jack sat down to rest. Like most
-boys on such occasions, he began to think of something
-to eat; and, having no well-filled bag to go to,
-he thought he might take a little from the inside of
-the pie, and it would never be missed.</p>
-
-<p>So, “he put in his thumb,” when to his astonishment
-he found only papers. This was poor satisfaction
-to the hungry lad, but he had wit enough to
-conclude that papers sent in such a manner must be
-valuable, so he determined to pocket one, which he
-did, and pursued his journey.</p>
-
-<p>Upon delivering the pie, it was at once discovered
-that the chief deed was missing, and, as it was thought
-the abbot had withheld it, an order was at once sent
-for his execution, for not the slightest suspicion seems
-to have fallen upon Jack.</p>
-
-<p>Years after, the paper was found in the possession
-of Jack’s family, which, being the deed to abbey estates,
-was a “plum” of some value.</p>
-
-<div class="blockquot">
-
-<p>1. Tell in your own words the meaning of the rhyme of “Little Jack Horner.”</p>
-
-<p>2. Do you know any other Mother Goose rhyme that has a hidden meaning?</p>
-</div>
-<hr class="full x-ebookmaker-drop" />
-
-<div class="chapter">
-
-
-<h2 class="nobreak" id="c48">DOUBLE DINKS.</h2>
-</div>
-
-<hr class="r5" />
-<p class="c more">BY ELIZABETH STODDARD.</p>
-<hr class="r6" />
-
-<div class="figleft">
-<img src="images/fig156.jpg" alt="" />
-</div>
-
-<p class="drop-cap">WIDE AWAKES, you have
-not heard of the boy Lolly
-Dinks that was, and is&mdash;a
-boy mitey in body and
-mighty in mind. He knows
-himself as the son and ruler
-of Mr. Dinks, a mild, pleasant
-man, who tears his shirt
-collar in two of mornings
-when his slippers are in the
-very place he put them, and
-he can’t find them, and who
-sits up of nights making
-books out of other people’s
-thoughts, and calls it a Literary
-Avocation! <i>I</i> call it
-st&mdash;al&mdash;ng. What <i>I</i> write
-comes from my own mind
-and Lolly’s.</p>
-
-<p>Now, as always, the business
-of my life is to amuse
-Lolly. Lots of oat-meal,
-beef-tea, little pills, have I
-taken to keep me up so
-that I might make a successful
-business. For a
-time I supposed that I was
-teaching him; but I wasn’t,
-he was teaching me, and from that he went on till I
-found he governed me. <i>Did</i> you ever hear anything
-like this&mdash;me, Mrs. Dinks, his mother, minding Lolly
-Dinks? Somebody has to mind me, and as Mr. Dinks
-will not read this, I confess I make <i>him</i> mind.</p>
-
-<p>And I thought myself so clever,&mdash;that I was packing,
-cramming the cells of Lolly’s brain with useful
-in-for-ma-tion, as full as the cells of a bee-hive with
-honey. I did it at all hours, and made a nuisance
-of myself under all circumstances. I’d go on this
-way: Suppose it a winter morning, and breakfast-time.
-Lolly and I are waiting for the bell to ring.</p>
-
-<p>“Lolly,” say I, “little Jack Frost came in last
-night by the window panes; don’t you long to hear
-about little Jack?” and my voice is sweet as a sugar
-lump.</p>
-
-<p>“No, marmy, I want some beefsteak. I smell it;”
-and Lolly gives so loud a sniff that I have to raise
-my voice, and thereby lose some of its sweetness.</p>
-
-<p>“It is strange so many things should have Jack
-tied to them,” I continued. “There’s Jack-at-a-pinch,
-Jack-at-all-trades,&mdash;”</p>
-
-<p>“Tom Bower,” breaks in Lolly, “has a toy he calls
-Jack-in-a-box; nasty thing, it jumps. I want my egg
-boiled so hard that this poker couldn’t smash it,” and
-he gives the fender such a bang that my nerves go
-ting-a-ling like a cracked bell,&mdash;not like poor Ophelia’s
-sweet bells, jangled, out of tune. But duty requires
-me to go on, for must not my Lolly understand
-something of great Nature’s laws? With sternness I
-proceed.</p>
-
-<p>“There is, also, Jack-a-dandy, Jack-ass, Jack-a-napes,
-Jack Ketch, the hangman, Jack-pudding&mdash;”</p>
-
-<p>“And Jack-straw,” cries Lolly; “and somebody’s
-lost my set of ivory Jack-straws.”</p>
-
-<p>“My son, the substance, or appearance, which we
-call Jack Frost, is rigidly and beautifully regulated by
-laws, crystals&mdash;”</p>
-
-<p>“Where is that boy?” asked papa Dinks, coming
-from behind his newspaper.</p>
-
-<p>A moment afterward we heard him singing in the
-breakfast-room, “Spring, spring, gentle spring,” and
-presently found him near a beefsteak tranquilly munching
-a biscuit.</p>
-
-<p>“The childhood,” says Milton, “shows the man, as
-morning shows the day;” but Milton was always saying
-one thing or another. If this is true, what will
-Lolly’s bump of reverence be when he has grown to
-be a man? Where shall a bank be found rich enough
-for him to draw the money he must have? And how
-many persons will be hired to find his garters, his hat,
-his knife, his book? I never could abear Paradise
-Lost, and I don’t wonder that the angel with the flaming
-sword kept Adam and Eve out of the garden, for
-Adam and Eve were a poky pair, after all, and could
-never have raised vegetables; that is, according to
-Milton. As a man, will this said Lolly domineer over
-his kind, and exact his rights? He thinks it hard that
-children should not have the privilege of scolding
-parents, when the parents are so old and the children
-so young; and why shouldn’t he contradict, when he is
-contradicted; he knows just as well as any old Dinks
-knows?</p>
-
-<p>Lolly is not a nice hero for a story, but what can I
-do? He is all the Lolly Dinks I have,&mdash;a “poor thing,
-but mine own.” And if I can’t make the best of him,
-I must make the worst; it is “live and Dinks live”
-with me. All is, Wide Awakes, try to help him with
-his poor traits; that is, not make use of them on your
-own account.</p>
-
-<p>Outside his family circle, which is compact though
-narrow, my Lolly has the reputation of a “perfect
-gentleman.” Our friends and neighbors invite him to
-dinner and to lunch. Then they tell how good, how
-refined, how sweet his manners, how gentle! And
-this young Dinks hears it all; does he believe so?
-Why not? He is to these people as he appears; but
-when I try to present to their view an interior picture,
-one I am somewhat familiar with, they return a pitying
-smile, and believe in their hearts that I am describing
-<i>myself</i>, or, at any rate, that I am solely to
-blame for all his shortcomings. I even bring up absolute
-facts. I say, “This morning, when I offered
-Lolly five cents, he tossed away, because I would not
-give him ten cents.” Or, “Yesterday, because I refused
-to go on the beach in a gale of wind to sail his
-boat, Lolly said, ‘You never do anything for me; you
-sit in your chair and read and read, and I think you
-are real mean.’” This, too, when I had trudged a
-mile into the woods with him, and lugged home a pile
-of bushes, flowers, and grasses. It is of no use; I am
-in the minority; they sympathize with him, not with
-me. I must hold my peace, but I will ask myself the
-question, so long as I have the spirit of a woman,&mdash;not
-Pilate’s,&mdash;whether old people or young people
-tell the truth; but, is it the young people or the old
-people who lie?</p>
-
-<p>Whatever Lolly’s aspects are, life is a constant surprise
-and delight to him. He walks daily among
-wonders, as Emerson says. Well, as I have said before,
-this Master Dinks got into the habit of instructing
-me. His style was more imperative and curt than
-mine. Here is a sample:&mdash;</p>
-
-<div class="poetry-container">
-<div class="poetry">
-<div class="stanza">
-<div class="verse indent0">“Do you wish to know?</div>
-<div class="verse indent0">Listen, Marmy.</div>
-<div class="verse indent0">Shall I tell you?”</div>
-</div>
-</div>
-</div>
-
-<p>Of course I have got to know. His lesson begins:
-“Suppose, Mrs. Marmy, that the moon, being tired of
-her white color, should wish to borrow a few yellow
-rays from the sun,&mdash;where would she find postage
-stamps to get it at the sun post office?”</p>
-
-<p>This terrible conundrum floors me, and I sit dismayed.</p>
-
-<p>“Get ’em from the next rainbow!” he shrieks.</p>
-
-<p>“My Lolly,” I reply, solemnly, “I see you understand
-the eternal fitness of things.”</p>
-
-<p>And then in his turn he is posed, and falls back
-into his simple child ways. He twists himself up into
-my lap, and rubs his head against my shoulder, and
-says, for the hundredth time,&mdash;</p>
-
-<p>“Tell me what you used to do, mother, dear.”</p>
-
-<p>He kisses me; but I must own there is an “ancient
-and fish-like smell” about him, which comes from his
-fondness for catching minnows, and other small deer
-of the sea. Still it goes for a kiss.</p>
-
-<p>A short tale follows.</p>
-
-<p>Cola Meggs and Sailor Studd were two dogs, whose
-acquaintance I made in my childhood. One was
-mouse-colored, and the other was white, with large
-black patches; both were large. They hated cats,
-they hunted cats. In the underpinning of our house
-was a hole where the broken crockery was thrown. I
-used to crawl through this hole to get dishes for my
-family’s table; very odd-shaped dishes, kind of three-cornered
-things they were. The cats hid in this dark
-place when Cola and Sailor were on the war-path, and
-made themselves very unpleasant. So much so that
-I was often obliged to sit on the doorstep while the
-battle raged between cats and dogs. Then I knew
-what it meant by reigning cats and dogs. One day I
-sat on the cold, cold doorstep till I grew numb, but my
-brain was on fire. I composed a poem.</p>
-
-<div class="poetry-container">
-<div class="poetry">
-<div class="stanza">
-<div class="verse indent0">“So Cola Meggs and Sailor Studd</div>
-<div class="verse indent0">Had a fight and fell in mud.</div>
-<div class="verse indent0">Won’t I hang them onto pegs,</div>
-<div class="verse indent0">Even though they have 8 legs.”</div>
-<div class="verse indent2">(The cat was killed.)</div>
-</div>
-</div>
-</div>
-
-<p>“Marmy,” said Lolly, with dignity, “will you please
-read me Jules Verne’s story ‘Round the World.’”</p>
-
-<p>Ah me, the mitey part of my Lolly Dinks had flown
-into the past, where so many little children lie in the
-amber of a mother’s memory.</p>
-
-<p>He reminds me of the apple blossom and the apple;
-both are perfect in their way, and in the latter the nub
-of the blossom, from which the fruit comes, remains.
-But this does not make me opposed to apple trees; I
-am not like the man who said he was fond of apples,
-but he did not approve of the cultivation of the apple
-tree. I am willing that they should grow as crooked
-as they like, and lay their dark arms about Tennyson’s
-fields, and his white kine glimmer as they please.</p>
-
-<p>I also made it one branch of my Dinks amusing
-business to print some of my talks with Lolly. Mr.
-Gill made a book for me; not the Mr. Gill whose
-teeth Wordsworth has given an immortal chatter to,
-but a Boston Gill. I thought some mothers might
-find a soothing syrup in the book for their Dinks boys.
-I know one little girl liked it so much that in reading
-it she fell out of bed and bumped her head dreadfully.
-A boy found it in a circulating library, but his mother
-carried it back the next day. She could see neither
-rhyme nor reason in it, and the boy cried, because he
-said he was afraid there was only one Lolly Dinks
-mother in the world; if there was, he was sure he
-could be as bad as Lolly Dinks, too.</p>
-
-<p>What to do next about Lolly? Some wise person
-talks to me about the transition periods; meantime
-am I to submit to having all my moral corns trod
-upon, and to watch the growth of his incipient corns?
-So far he has had everything, from Noah’s ark to a
-schooner-rigged boat, from a paint box to a set of
-croquet. He has had all that money can buy; but I
-have a curious feeling that now he needs something
-that money cannot buy. I hope this confession will
-not bring down upon my weak head any dogmatic,
-cut-and-dried mamma. I am not at home to her. I
-have gone out: business calls me yonder. Perhaps
-my own Lolly will tell me what to do next. With all
-his restlessness and perversity, I see how the sense of
-beauty develops in his mind, and that somehow he
-begins to perceive the harmony of goodness; that to
-be selfish gives him a kind of creepy shame.</p>
-
-<p>“Our Father in heaven,” he said, one day. “Where
-is the Mother?”</p>
-
-<p>Will he see our life better, more clearly, than Mrs.
-Dinks, his mother, or Mr. Dinks, his father? We are
-waiting to learn.</p>
-
-<div class="figcenter">
-<img src="images/fig157.jpg" alt="" />
-</div>
-
-
-<hr class="full x-ebookmaker-drop" />
-
-<div class="chapter">
-
-
-<h2 class="nobreak" id="c49">LEARNING TO SWIM.</h2>
-</div>
-
-<hr class="r5" />
-<p class="c more">BY EDGAR FAWCETT.</p>
-<hr class="r6" />
-
-
-
-
-<div class="poetry-container">
-<div class="poetry">
-<div class="stanza">
-<div class="verse indent0"><span class="big5">H</span>ERE I am, papa,</div>
-<div class="verse indent1">In my new tights dressed,</div>
-<div class="verse indent0">Crazy for a bath,</div>
-<div class="verse indent1">It must be confessed.</div>
-</div><div class="stanza">
-<div class="verse indent0">Shall we go straight in?</div>
-<div class="verse indent1">Oo! the water’s cold!</div>
-<div class="verse indent0">Let me take your hand,</div>
-<div class="verse indent1">Nice and large to hold.</div>
-</div><div class="stanza">
-<div class="verse indent0">I’m a big boy, now,</div>
-<div class="verse indent1">Tall and strong of limb.</div>
-<div class="verse indent0">Eight years old to-day,</div>
-<div class="verse indent1">Yet I cannot swim!</div>
-</div><div class="stanza">
-<div class="verse indent0">Teach me, please, papa;</div>
-<div class="verse indent1">Keep my chin up ... so!</div>
-<div class="verse indent0">Not a bit of use&mdash;</div>
-<div class="verse indent1">Down I’m sure to go!</div>
-</div><div class="stanza">
-<div class="verse indent0">Don’t I kick out right</div>
-<div class="verse indent1">While my arms are spread?</div>
-<div class="verse indent0">O, I really think</div>
-<div class="verse indent1">That I’m made of lead!</div>
-</div><div class="stanza">
-<div class="verse indent0">Floundering here, I feel</div>
-<div class="verse indent1">Like so sad a dunce!</div>
-<div class="verse indent0">It’s as though you tried</div>
-<div class="verse indent1">Twenty things at once!</div>
-</div><div class="stanza">
-<div class="verse indent0">While you make your strokes</div>
-<div class="verse indent1">Regular and neat,</div>
-<div class="verse indent0">You must also tend</div>
-<div class="verse indent1">To your legs and feet!</div>
-</div><div class="stanza">
-<div class="verse indent0">I don’t even float</div>
-<div class="verse indent1">As well as some old log!</div>
-<div class="verse indent0">O, how <i>can</i> you swim</div>
-<div class="verse indent1">Unless you’re born a frog!</div>
-</div>
-</div>
-</div>
-
-<hr class="full x-ebookmaker-drop" />
-
-<div class="chapter">
-
-
-<h2 class="nobreak" id="c50">SWEETHEART’S SURPRISE.</h2>
-</div>
-
-<hr class="r5" />
-<p class="c more">BY MARY E. C. WYETH.</p>
-<hr class="r6" />
-
-
-
-
-<p class="c">I.</p>
-
-
-<div class="poetry-container">
-<div class="poetry">
-  <div class="stanza">
-    <div class="verse indent0">Rosebud! Goldilocks! Busy Bee!</div>
-    <div class="verse indent0">Sweetest of all sweethearts to me!</div>
-    <div class="verse indent0">Where art thou hiding? “<i>Tum an’ see!</i>”</div>
-    <div class="verse indent6">Ah, those rippling child-tones,</div>
-    <div class="verse indent8">Sweet with baby glee,</div>
-    <div class="verse indent6">Lure my feet to lightness</div>
-    <div class="verse indent8">When they summon me.</div>
-  </div>
-</div>
-</div>
-
-
-
-<p class="c">II.</p>
-
-
-<div class="poetry-container">
-<div class="poetry">
-  <div class="stanza">
-    <div class="verse indent0">Where away, darling? Where hast thou fled?</div>
-    <div class="verse indent0">Shine out and show me thy sunny-ringed head.</div>
-    <div class="verse indent0">Ho! hiding there in my white lily bed!</div>
-    <div class="verse indent6">“Ha, ha! pitty mamma!</div>
-    <div class="verse indent8">Finks you’se foun’ me out?</div>
-    <div class="verse indent6">Dess you tant imazhin</div>
-    <div class="verse indent8">What dis dirl’s about.”</div>
-  </div>
-</div>
-</div>
-
-
-
-<p class="c">III.</p>
-
-
-<div class="poetry-container">
-<div class="poetry">
-  <div class="stanza">
-    <div class="verse indent0">“Huwwy up&mdash;fas’ you tan&mdash;shut ’oo eyes,</div>
-    <div class="verse indent0">Sweetheart’s dot such a lovely s’prise!</div>
-    <div class="verse indent0"><i>Peep now</i>, twick, mamma, <i>’fore he flies!</i>”</div>
-    <div class="verse indent6">Ope her waxen fingers</div>
-    <div class="verse indent8">On a jewel rare:</div>
-    <div class="verse indent6">Lo! a gleaming humming-bird,</div>
-    <div class="verse indent8">Darting through the air!</div>
-  </div>
-</div>
-</div>
-
-
-
-<p class="c">IV.</p>
-
-
-<div class="poetry-container">
-<div class="poetry">
-  <div class="stanza">
-    <div class="verse indent0">“Flied yite into my hands&mdash;dess so.</div>
-    <div class="verse indent0">Wasn’t it tunnin’ to see him go?</div>
-    <div class="verse indent0">Wasn’t it <i>lovely</i> to <i>s’prise</i> you, though?”</div>
-    <div class="verse indent6">Oh, thou wee, wise baby,</div>
-    <div class="verse indent8">Early to divine,</div>
-    <div class="verse indent6">’Tis the <i>sweet surprise</i> that makes</div>
-    <div class="verse indent8">Simplest joys to shine.</div>
-  </div>
-</div>
-</div>
-
-
-<hr class="full x-ebookmaker-drop" />
-
-<div class="chapter">
-
-
-<h2 class="nobreak" id="c51">THE CROSS-PATCH.</h2>
-</div>
-
-<hr class="r5" />
-<p class="c more">BY MRS. EMILY SHAW FARMAN.</p>
-<hr class="r6" />
-
-
-
-
-<p class="drop-cap2">I KNOW a little black-eyed boy, with tight curls all
-over his head. He is very sweet and pleasant
-when things go right; but he has days when everything
-seems to go wrong, and then he is called Cross-Patch.
-His other name is Frank. When these days
-come round, everybody wishes it was night.</p>
-
-<p>Cross-Patch comes down to breakfast with a red
-nose and a snuffle, and drags his feet along as if they
-were flat-irons.</p>
-
-<p>Papa hears him coming, and says, “Falling barometer,
-heavy showers, and, possibly, storms.” Papa
-says this as if he were reading the newspaper, but
-he is really reading Frank.</p>
-
-<p>As Cross-Patch comes into the room and bangs
-the door, Tom, his big brother, exclaims, “Indicative
-mood!” and Susie, who goes to the High School,
-laughs and says, “Objective case, and <i>dis</i>-agrees with
-everybody in the first person singular!”</p>
-
-<p>“I don’t care! I ain’t! and you shan’t laugh at
-me!” roars Frank.</p>
-
-<p>“Croth-pash!” lisps little Lucy.</p>
-
-<p>“Come here, Frank,” says mamma, very gently,
-“and tell mamma what is the matter.”</p>
-
-<p>“Phebe got soap in my eyes, and she washed my
-face hard in the middle, just as if I didn’t have any
-nose at all, and the comb stuck in my hair every time,
-and hurt, and&mdash;”</p>
-
-<p>“And you got out at the foot of the bed!” says
-provoking Tom.</p>
-
-<p>“No, I didn’t. I got out at the side; and ’tisn’t
-fair!” cries Frank.</p>
-
-<p>“No,” says papa, with a sigh, “I see it isn’t; it is
-very cloudy and threatening.”</p>
-
-<p>Then they all laugh, and Cross-Patch gets worse
-and worse. He sits down at the table, and takes a
-baked potato; it is hot, and burns his fingers; so he
-pushes his plate away very hard, and upsets a glass of
-milk, and has to be sent up stairs. He puts an apple
-in his pocket, and goes off to school without any
-breakfast. On the way a big bad boy takes the apple
-away from him, just as he is going to take his first
-bite.</p>
-
-<p>At school things are no better. The hardest word
-in the spelling lesson is t-h-r-o-u-g-h, <i>through</i>, and
-of course the teacher gives him that word to spell,
-and he sticks in the middle of it, and can’t get
-<i>through</i>.</p>
-
-<p>Then comes the multiplication table, and the teacher
-asks him “nine times four,” and he answers, “sixty-three.”
-The crosswise has got into his brain, and he
-keeps on saying “sixty-three” till he thinks it is right;
-and then he is very cross when he is told to learn his
-lesson, and stay after school to recite it.</p>
-
-<p>As he goes home he wishes he could meet the man
-that made the spelling book, and the other man that
-made the multiplication table, so that he might knock
-them both down, and jump on them with all his might
-a long time; but, as he doesn’t see them anywhere,
-he thinks he will play ball.</p>
-
-<p>He plays that the front gate is the spelling-book
-man, and that the lantern post is the man that made
-the multiplication table, and he sends the ball, first
-at one, and then at the other, with great fury. At
-last, in a very wild throw, Cross-Patch hits the multiplication
-man&mdash;I mean the lantern post&mdash;on the
-head. The pieces come rattling down on the sidewalk,
-and this dreadful noise frightens away all the
-crossness. Frank runs into the house to his mamma,
-and tells her how sorry he is, and begs her to tell
-papa all about it, and gives her all the money in his
-little savings bank to pay for the broken lantern.
-Then mamma asks him if he is sure that Cross-Patch
-has gone away entirely, and he cries a great shower
-of tears, and says, “Yes, mamma, every inch of him!”
-and mamma gives Frank some supper, and puts him
-to bed, and tells him to pray to the good angels to
-drive Cross-Patch very far off, in the night, so that he
-can’t get back for a great many days.</p>
-
-<div class="figcenter">
-<img src="images/fig158.jpg" alt="" />
-</div>
-
-
-<hr class="full x-ebookmaker-drop" />
-
-<div class="chapter">
-
-
-<h2 class="nobreak" id="c52">THE PROUD BANTAM.</h2>
-</div>
-
-<hr class="r5" />
-<p class="c"><span class="smcap">By Clara Louise Burnham.</span></p>
-<hr class="r6" />
-
-
-
-<div class="poetry-container">
-<div class="poetry">
-  <div class="stanza">
-    <div class="verse indent0"><span class="big4">T</span>HERE lived a Bantam rooster on a farm not far away,</div>
-    <div class="verse indent0">So haughty and puffed up, as I have heard the neighbors say,</div>
-    <div class="verse indent0">That from morning until evening he would strut the country round,</div>
-    <div class="verse indent0">And crow aloud self-praises as he stepped along the ground:</div>
-    <div class="verse indent0">“I’m Chanticleer Grandissimo, my pedigree is fine,</div>
-    <div class="verse indent0">Oh, who can show as yellow claws or such a comb as mine?</div>
-    <div class="verse indent0">Where some have one tail feather, I am proudly waving two,</div>
-    <div class="verse indent0">And I have an extra doodle to my Cock-a-doodle-doo!”</div>
-  </div>
-  <div class="stanza">
-    <div class="verse indent0">The other roosters in the barn-yard talked the matter o’er,</div>
-    <div class="verse indent0">The little upstart really was becoming quite a bore.</div>
-    <div class="verse indent0">At last a handsome game-cock volunteered to take the case;</div>
-    <div class="verse indent0">“It’s time,” he said, “the creature should be taught to know his place;</div>
-    <div class="verse indent0">It goes against the grain, my friends, to whip a thing so small,</div>
-    <div class="verse indent0">But since it’s for our peace of mind, why&mdash;duty first of all!”</div>
-    <div class="verse indent0">And hardly had these sentiments escaped the noble bird</div>
-    <div class="verse indent0">Than up came little Bantie with his haughty, scornful word.</div>
-  </div>
-  <div class="stanza">
-    <div class="verse indent0">The handsome game-cock’s feathers glistened golden in the light;</div>
-    <div class="verse indent0">Loud cried the tiny rooster in his coat of snowy white,</div>
-    <div class="verse indent0">“Just step aside and let your betters pass, I’ll thank you, sirs!”</div>
-    <div class="verse indent0">“We’ve all a right here,” mild replied the owner of the spurs.</div>
-    <div class="verse indent0">Oh, then the Bantam tiptoed round: “What’s that I heard you say?</div>
-    <div class="verse indent0">I’m Chanticleer Grandissimo!”&mdash;ah! in the dust he lay.</div>
-    <div class="verse indent0">Above him stood the game-cock like a giant in his might,</div>
-    <div class="verse indent0">And round him all the other fowls rejoicing in his fright.</div>
-  </div>
-  <div class="stanza">
-    <div class="verse indent0">And while he still lay, giddy, with his dainty claws in air,</div>
-    <div class="verse indent0">He was forced to hear a lecture from the other, then and there;</div>
-    <div class="verse indent0">And, greatly to the credit of the silly little bird,</div>
-    <div class="verse indent0">He changed his manner afterward and heeded every word.</div>
-    <div class="verse indent0">“My name is Cock-a-doodle Small,” he meekly learned to say,</div>
-    <div class="verse indent0">He minded his own business, nor got in others’ way.</div>
-    <div class="verse indent0">So in our world we sometimes find Grandissimos, and all</div>
-    <div class="verse indent0">Would do well to recall the fate of Cock-a-doodle Small.</div>
-  </div>
-</div>
-</div>
-
-
-<hr class="tb" />
-
-
-
-
-<div class="poetry-container">
-<div class="poetry">
-  <div class="stanza">
-
-<div class="figleft1">
-<img src="images/fig159.jpg" alt="" />
-</div>
-    <div class="verse indent0"><span class="big4">T</span>HERE is a young man with a cane,</div>
-    <div class="verse indent0">Whose thoughts are not fixed upon gain;</div>
-    <div class="verse indent0">For he says, “Don’t you see,</div>
-    <div class="verse indent0">It’s enough, just to be</div>
-    <div class="verse indent0"><i>Such</i> a young man with a cane!”</div>
-  </div>
-</div>
-</div>
-
-<hr class="full x-ebookmaker-drop" />
-
-<div class="chapter">
-
-
-<h2 class="nobreak" id="c53">THE TRUE STORY OF SIMPLE SIMON.</h2>
-</div>
-
-<hr class="r5" />
-<p class="c more">BY HARRIETTE R. SHATTUCK.</p>
-<hr class="r6" />
-
-
-
-
-<p class="drop-cap">ONCE there was a boy named “Simple Simon.”</p>
-
-<p>He wasn’t a pretty boy, for his nose turned up
-at every thing, and the corners of his mouth turned
-down, and he was always crying for something he didn’t
-possess. He had a tooth come once, but instead of
-being glad that he had something to eat with, he cried
-all the time till he got two more teeth; and even then
-he wasn’t satisfied and he had to have twenty more;
-such a simple boy as he was!</p>
-
-<p>He had nice little white dresses, but he didn’t like
-them and cried for pants and a jacket; and when he
-got those he wasn’t contented, but wanted some
-pockets! Just think what an unreasonable boy!
-They used to put him to bed at six o’clock, but a boy
-down town didn’t go to bed till eight, so he cried to
-sit up till eight; and when they had let him do so,
-was he content? Oh, no! he fussed until they had
-to allow him to go to bed only when the rest of the
-folks went. Only see what a silly boy!</p>
-
-<p>They always gave him bread and milk for his supper,
-and sometimes strawberries and jelly; but he
-saw that his aunt had sponge cake and his uncle
-warmed-up potatoes, and he thought he must have
-them too, so he cried into his mug and daubed his
-chin with jelly until they had to give <i>him</i> cake and
-potatoes too. What a greedy boy!</p>
-
-<p>His father gave him a pretty boat with white sails,
-and a flag on top, and he used to pump the sink full
-of water and sail the boat in it, but once he saw a
-pond, and then he cried to go and sail his boat on
-that, and when they took him there the pond wasn’t
-big enough! What could they do with that boy?
-He had a rocking-horse at Christmas and he rode on it
-as much as a week without complaining, but one day
-he discovered that his horse wouldn’t go ahead any&mdash;only
-up and down&mdash;and he got mad at it and
-pulled out its tail, and then cried for a real horse that
-would kick and go. But they couldn’t keep on giving
-him all he wanted, this funny boy!</p>
-
-<p>He used to read out of a picture-book about “Jane
-and John,” and “the five pond lilies,” until he found
-a big book in the library that had long words in it
-which he couldn’t understand, and he teased and
-teased until he got somebody to tell him all about it.
-What an absurd boy he was getting to be!</p>
-
-<p>Once a little lady gave him a daisy to wear in his
-button-hole, but he pulled it in pieces instead, and
-they had to tell him what every part was named.
-His father took him to an Art Exhibition, and he saw
-a big picture of horses and men, but he couldn’t admire
-it quietly, but had to feel of it and find out how
-it was done; and before he would consent to go home
-his father was obliged to buy him a paint pot and a
-brush; and he spent a whole week trying to paint a
-horse on one of the barn doors&mdash;and what a horse!
-and what a boy! Well, finally he was too big to learn
-at home, (as he already knew more than anyone else
-in the house) and they sent him away to the academy
-where he studied, like the rest of the boys&mdash;but
-when he found out that there were some books that
-the other boys didn’t study, then he insisted on learning
-<i>those</i> lessons, and he studied Turkish and Chinese
-and the Wealth of Nations, this wise boy who was
-no longer contented with doing only what others could
-do!</p>
-
-<p>He never played base ball or cricket, or rowed on
-the river; these things were too common for him&mdash;other
-boys might do so, but he preferred to walk in
-the woods and pull bugs to pieces, write letters for
-the newspapers and talk in debating societies. Thus
-he was different from other boys, and that suited him&mdash;but
-still he didn’t feel satisfied yet, this restless
-boy! and he never did get satisfied in all his life, because
-it was impossible for him to be, though he became
-rich and was sent to Congress and even ran for
-the Presidency, with six or eight other boys. And I
-suppose if he had been chosen Emperor of Russia,
-he would still have wanted something better, he was
-such an ambitious boy!</p>
-
-<p>So you can see why he was called “Simple Simon.”
-They might have called him a more disagreeable name
-still if he had been a girl, and acted so.</p>
-<hr class="full x-ebookmaker-drop" />
-
-<div class="chapter">
-
-
-<h2 class="nobreak" id="c54">IN THE TUNNEL OF MOUNT CENIS.</h2>
-</div>
-
-<hr class="r5" />
-<p class="c more">BY MRS. ALFRED MACY.</p>
-<hr class="r6" />
-
-<div class="figleft">
-<img src="images/fig160.jpg" alt="" />
-<p class="caption">GRANDMOTHER’S CLOCK.</p>
-</div>
-
-
-<p class="drop-cap">LEAVING Turin,
-the whole country
-is mountainous, the
-tributaries of the Po
-frequently relieving
-the sameness. The
-engine now shoots
-into this tunnel, now
-into that, either of
-which, from its length,
-the inexperienced traveller
-might mistake for
-“the grand.” When,
-however, the approach
-of the latter was near,
-there was no misjudging
-the signs. The
-lights overhead were
-newly arranged; there
-was a general quick-step
-on the top of the
-car; and, too late to
-draw back, we were,
-willing or unwilling,
-propelled into
-“chaos.”</p>
-
-<p>Entering these
-depths a seriousness
-takes possession of
-one similar to that
-which affects a passenger
-for the first time
-crossing the Suspension
-Bridge at Niagara
-Falls. The air seems
-stupefying, and were it not “that the lamp holds out
-to burn,” you would not believe there were any oxygen
-in the atmosphere.</p>
-
-<p>Subterranean apartments were occasionally seen
-at the right and left. In one instance several persons,
-perhaps the mountain kings, though by no
-means, in royal robes, appeared to be lunching.
-The glare of their lights was dismal. These rooms,
-or dens, were invariably near the lamp-posts, as
-though between these points life could not be endurable.</p>
-
-<p>Pastime is out of the question in this Great
-Tunnel.</p>
-
-<p>As everything seems to be rushing to destruction,
-reflections are a natural consequence during this ride
-of nearly a half hour. It takes but very few minutes
-to “retrospect” (any word is right in a tunnel)
-one’s whole life. It is surprising too, how thick and
-fast the short-comings present themselves, especially
-those of childhood. Indeed I did not get beyond
-the first dozen years of my youth, yet they were
-countless. One of these transgressions out of which
-in later years I had had much enjoyment on the review,
-came to me very significantly in the tunnel and
-I grew very sober over it. Now that I am safely at
-Modane and know that I will <i>never</i> take the route
-through the “Alpine Bore” again, I transcribe a
-confession of the above in the form of the</p>
-
-
-<p class="c">STORY OF THE CLOCK.</p>
-
-<p>My real name was so short that I was called
-Nancy, “for long.” I was the fourth child in a very
-large family. The three elder were a brother and
-two sisters. The first, very quick at books and figures,
-finished his education at an early age, and
-seemed to me about as old and dignified as my
-father. My sisters, Sarah and Mary, were exemplary
-in school and out. The former, at eight, read Virgil;
-painted “Our Mother’s Grave” at eleven&mdash;’twas an
-imaginary grave judging from the happy children
-standing by; wrote rhymes for all the albums,
-printed verses on card-board and kept on living.
-Mary read every book she could find; had a prize
-at six years of age for digesting “Rollins’ Ancient
-History;” had great mathematical talent, and though
-she sighed in her fourteenth year that she had grown
-old, yet continues to add to her age, being one of
-the oldest professors in a flourishing college.</p>
-
-<p>With such precedences, it is not strange that my
-parents were astonished when their fourth child developed
-other and less exaggerated traits, with no inclination
-to be moulded. Within ten months of my
-eighth year, my teacher, who had previously dealt
-with Sarah and Mary with great success, made the
-following remark to me: “If thou wilt learn to
-answer all those questions in astronomy,” passing
-her pencil lightly over two pages in <i>Wilkin’s Elements</i>,
-“before next seventh day, I’ll give thee two cents
-and a nice note to thy parents” (my father was a
-scientific man, and my mother a prime mover in our
-education).</p>
-
-<p>“Two cents” did seem quite a temptation, but the
-lesson I concluded not to get. “I worked wiser
-than I knew.” I may have wanted a “two cents”
-many a time since, but I never was sorry about that.
-Spelling, arithmetic, grammar, geography, history
-and reading, though they were the Peter-Parley edition,
-seemed about enough food for a child that was
-hungering and thirsting for a doll like Judith Collin’s,
-and for capacity to outrun the neighboring boys.
-To be sure the recitation in concert, where the names
-of the asteroids, only four in number (instead of a
-million and four) were brought out by some of us, as
-“vesper,” “pallid,” “you know,” and “serious”
-showed that we did not confine ourselves too closely
-to the book.</p>
-
-<p>Seventh-day afternoon was a holiday, and on one
-of these occasions I was sent to stay with my grandmother,
-as my mother and my maiden aunt (the latter
-lived with my grandmother) were going to Polpis
-to a corn-pudding party. I was too troublesome to
-be left at home, therefore, two birds were to be
-killed with one stone.</p>
-
-<p>Now I had for a long time desired to be left alone
-with my lame and deaf grandmother and the Tall
-Clock, especially the Tall Clock. I went, therefore,
-to her old house on Plover street in a calm and
-lovely frame of mind and helped get my aunt ready
-for the ride.</p>
-
-<p>’Twas a cold day though September; and after she
-took her seat in the flag-chair tied into the cart, I
-conceived the notion to add my grandmother’s best
-“heppy” to the wraps which they had already put into
-the calash. I always had wanted a chance at that
-camphor-trunk; and the above cloak, too nice to be
-worn, lay in the bottom underneath a mighty weight of
-neatly-folded articles of winter raiment. It came
-out with a “long pull” and many a “strong pull”
-and I got to the door with the head of it, while the
-whole length of this precious bright coating was dragging
-on the floor. But the cart had started, and
-when my aunt looked back, I was flourishing this
-“heppy” to see the wind fill it.</p>
-
-<p>I returned to the room, restored the article to the
-chest quite snugly, leaving one corner hanging out
-and that I stuffed in afterwards and jumped upon the
-cover of the trunk so that it shut. Very demurely I
-sat down before the open fire by my grandmother’s
-easy chair, rocking furiously, watching my own face
-in the bright andirons, whose convex surfaces reflected
-first a “small Nancy” far off, then as I
-rocked forward, a large and distorted figure. My
-rapid motions made such rapid caricatures that I remained
-absorbed and attentive. My grandmother,
-not seeing the cause of my content, decided (as she
-told my mother afterwards), “that the child was sick,
-or becoming regenerated.” Happy illusion!</p>
-
-<p>At last, my grandmother got to nodding and I
-sprang to my long-contemplated work.</p>
-
-<p>Putting a cricket into one of the best rush-bottom
-chairs, I climbed to the Clock; took off the frame,
-glass and all, from its head, placing it noiselessly on
-the floor; opened the tall door in the body of the
-clock; drew out and unhung the pendulum&mdash;the
-striking weight, whose string was broken, was made
-all right and put for the time being on the table.
-Then the “moon and stars” which had been fixed for
-a quarter of a century, were made to spin; the “days
-of the month” refused to pass in review without a
-squeak that must be remedied, so I flew into the
-closet to get some sweet oil which was goose-grease;
-but shutting the closet-door I roused my grandmother.</p>
-
-<p>I quietly went at the old rocking again, the bottle
-of goose-grease in my pocket, which I feared might
-melt and I should lose the material&mdash;the bottle was
-already low.</p>
-
-<p>Fortunately my grandmother began napping again,
-and I resumed my task. Applying the oil with a
-bird’s wing was lavish process&mdash;the wheels moved
-easily; the hands became quite slippy; the moon
-“rose and set” to order; the days of the month
-glided thirty times a minute, and I was just using
-a pin to prove the material of the dial when my
-grandmother turned her head, at the same time
-reaching for her cane (the emergency had been
-foreseen and special care had I taken that the cane
-should not be forthcoming). “Nancy! Nancy! is
-thee crazy?”</p>
-
-<p>Thinking to strengthen this idea, I jumped into
-the clock and held the door fast; but finally thinking
-’twas cowardly not to face it I jumped out again, up
-into the chair, saying, “I am mending this old clock;”
-and notwithstanding her remonstrances, continued
-my work putting back the various pieces. When I
-was afraid of “giving out and giving up,” I decided
-I would just answer her back once and say “I wont.”
-The wickedness would certainly discourage her
-beyond a hope, and then I could finish.</p>
-
-<p>So I put the moon on, staring full; in putting on
-the hands I got, I thought, sufficiently worked up to
-venture my prepared reply to her repeated “get
-down!”</p>
-
-<p>I accordingly approached my grandmother, stopping
-some feet from her; bent my body half-over,
-my long red hair covering my eyes, and my head
-suiting its action to my earnestness, and in a decided
-rebellious tone, I spelled, “I <span class="allsmcap">W-O-N-T</span>;” but accidently
-giving myself a turn on my heel I fell to the
-floor, with the pronunciation still unexpressed.</p>
-
-<p>I quickly rose, though I saw stars without any “two
-cents,” and returned to, and finished my work. I
-had just put the last touch on when I heard the
-wheels. How I dreaded my aunt’s appearance! As
-she entered the door I was found “demurely rocking”
-to the pictures in the andirons.</p>
-
-<p>My aunt thought I did not seem natural, and kissed
-me as being “too good, perhaps, to be well.” My
-grandmother tried to speak, but I interrupted:</p>
-
-<p>“I must go home without my tea. I am not afraid
-of the dark, and I better go.”</p>
-
-<p>This was another proof of indisposition to the
-aunt. I left the house, kissing as I thought, my
-grandmother into silence; but as I looked back I
-saw she could not utter a word without laughing at
-the aunt’s anxiety, and so had to put off the narration
-till after my departure.</p>
-
-<p>I went home about as fast as possible; desired to
-go to bed immediately&mdash;never went before without
-being sent, and then not in a very good mood. My
-mother followed me with a talk of “herb tea,” and as
-I thought I must have some “end to the farce,” I
-agreed that a little might do me good. My mother
-consequently brought me, I do believe, a “Scripture
-measure” pint of bitter tea, which I hurriedly drank,
-as I knew my sisters had already started for my grandmother’s,
-to see how I had been through the afternoon.
-When they returned, though I heard the
-laughing and talking in the sitting-room below, I was,
-to all intents and purposes, sound asleep and snoring.</p>
-
-<p>No allusion was ever made to my demeanor. I
-went to school as usual, and told the school-girls that
-I had had such a good time at my aunt’s the day before
-that I would never go there again “as long as I
-lived.”</p>
-
-<p>My grandmother and aunt died long ago. For
-years I had no reason to believe that my afternoon’s
-tragedy was known to any one. But once, not
-long since, speaking of that clock, I said, “I’m glad
-it did not descend to me;” when a friend replied,
-with a very knowing look, “So is your grandmother!”</p>
-
-<div class="figcenter">
-<img src="images/fig161.jpg" alt="" />
-<p class="caption">“THREE MICE SAT IN THE BARN TO SPIN.”</p>
-</div>
-
-<div class="figcenter1">
-<img src="images/fig162.jpg" alt="" />
-</div>
-
-
-<hr class="full x-ebookmaker-drop" />
-
-<div class="chapter">
-
-<div class="figcenter" id="c55">
-<img src="images/fig163.jpg" alt="" />
-<p class="caption">NURSERY TILES.   <span class="pad">&mdash;APRIL SHOWERS AND APRIL SUNSHINE.</span></p>
-</div>
-
-<h2 class="nobreak">A RIDE ON A CENTAUR.</h2>
-</div>
-
-
-<hr class="r5" />
-<p class="c more">BY HAMILTON W. MABIE.</p>
-<hr class="r6" />
-
-
-
-
-<p class="drop-cap">SID’S mother had a way of telling him stories just
-before he went to bed, and Sid loved bed-time
-more than any other hour in the day. I couldn’t begin
-to tell you all he had learned in this way nor all
-the places he had been to. When people travel in
-strange countries they have to have a guide who knows
-the fine roads and wonderful places to be seen in that
-part of the world. Now Sid was a little traveller just
-setting out on a very long journey and it was a very
-fortunate thing for him that he had his mother as a
-guide.</p>
-
-<p>When night was coming on and it was getting dark
-out of doors, the open wood fire was lighted in the
-back parlor; and then in the glow which made everything
-in the room look so queer, with his hand in hers,
-Sid’s mother took him off to other lands and even to
-the Moon.</p>
-
-<p>One night, not long ago, as Sid sat looking into the
-fire with his head against his mother’s knee, she said:</p>
-
-<p>“Come, Sid, let’s go to Greece and take a ride
-on a Centaur.”</p>
-
-<p>Nothing could have pleased Sid more. He hadn’t
-the slightest idea what a Centaur was, but he loved to
-ride, and it made very little difference to him what he
-rode on.</p>
-
-<p>Besides he was tired to-night and didn’t feel like
-walking; so, with his eyes half shut, and feeling very,
-very comfortable, Sid waited for the Centaur to take
-him off.</p>
-
-<p>“Well,” said his mother, in a voice that was always
-very sweet to him; “there’s a little country in Greece
-called Thessaly, and it’s full of caves, and beautiful
-valleys as well. In one of the caves lived a Centaur
-named Chiron. He had the body of a horse, but instead
-of a horse’s neck and head he had the head
-and shoulders and body of a man down to the waist.
-He was a very old and wise Centaur and although he
-lived in a cave he loved the open air on the high
-mountains.”</p>
-
-<p>How much longer Sid’s mother talked I don’t
-know. Although she did not notice it, Sid was gone.
-He had been carried off by a Centaur. While he
-was looking into the fire and wondering what made
-the coals take such queer shapes he heard a strange
-noise outside. It wasn’t exactly the neighing of a
-horse and it was not exactly the voice of a man, but
-it was something between the two.</p>
-
-<p>“That’s very funny,” said Sid to himself; “wonder
-what it is!”</p>
-
-<p>In a moment or two he heard it again and it
-sounded a great deal nearer than before. Then there
-was a sharp canter down the road and the clatter of
-hoofs past the windows. Sid’s mother did not seem
-to pay any attention to the noise, but she had stopped
-talking&mdash;at least Sid thought she had, and he got up
-very quietly, stepped out into the hall and went to the
-side door. There wasn’t any moon but the stars were
-shining brightly and there, going round and round the
-circle of grass under the apple trees, Sid saw a
-splendid black horse. As it came round again to the
-place where he stood Sid saw that it was not a horse
-after all, for above its forelegs it had the head and
-body of a man.</p>
-
-<p>It was a Centaur. Sid had never seen one before
-and he was sure nobody in that neighborhood owned
-one. Where it had come from he hadn’t the slightest
-idea, and if it hadn’t been for the apple trees and
-the great, dark church beyond he would have believed
-he was dreaming.</p>
-
-<p>The Centaur cantered around two or three trees
-more and then, without saying a word, as he passed
-Sid, stretched out his arms, caught the boy, put him
-on his back and was off like a racer. No boy ever
-had such a ride before and I don’t know that any
-one ever will again.</p>
-
-<p>No sooner had the Centaur struck the road than he
-broke into a gallop and went thundering along
-through the night as if a thousand witches or some
-other horrible creatures were chasing him. His
-hoofs rang on the hard ground and struck sparks of
-fire out of the stones along the way. On and on they
-flew, past houses and orchards and ponds over which
-a white mist lay like a soft night dress. They leaped
-the tall gates without so much as dropping a penny
-for the keeper who was fast asleep in the little house,
-and they rushed over bridges as if there were no notices
-about fast driving posted up at either end.
-Faster and faster they flew along until fences and
-trees and barns were all mixed up together and Sid
-couldn’t tell one from the other. He thought the
-Centaur couldn’t go any faster, but he was mistaken,
-for he broke into a dead run and then such going!
-It took Sid’s breath away. Every thing vanished and
-there wasn’t any thing left in the world but himself
-and the Centaur and the wind that was trying its best
-to blow him off. There wasn’t any noise either. It
-was just one tremendous rush. It was like the flight
-of an arrow that goes straight through the air from
-the moment it leaves the bow till the moment it
-strikes the mark and there’s hardly a breath between.</p>
-
-<p>How long the ride was I don’t know for Sid never
-could tell, but after a time the Centaur began to
-slacken speed, broke into a gallop, then into a gentle
-trot and finally stopped short. His broad flanks
-were steaming and he was wet from hoof to hoof, but
-he did not seem to mind it.</p>
-
-<p>Sid had been a little frightened at first, and you
-must admit that it was rather alarming to be picked
-up and carried off like the wind by a Centaur&mdash;but he
-was a brave boy and soon forgot every thing but
-the splendid ride he was taking. As soon as the
-Centaur stopped he slipped down and stood on the
-ground.</p>
-
-<p>Although it was night the air was so soft and pure
-and the stars shone so brightly through it that he
-could see it was a strange country. There were hills
-every where but they were green and although it was
-wild it looked beautiful as far as he could see.</p>
-
-<p>The Centaur stretched himself on the ground and
-Sid saw that although his face was very queer it was
-quite intelligent. He seemed to be waiting to rest
-himself. Sid wanted very much to talk with him but
-he wasn’t sure that he ought to and he didn’t know
-exactly what to say. There was so much of the horse
-about the Centaur that Sid couldn’t make up his
-mind whether he really was a horse or a man.</p>
-
-<p>The Centaur paid no attention to the boy for a
-long time but finally he turned to him and said:</p>
-
-<p>“Well, how did you like it?”</p>
-
-<p>The voice was queer, there was no doubt about
-that. It made him think of a horse, but the words
-were human. The Centaur could speak good English,
-there was no doubt about that either.</p>
-
-<p>“It was just splendid,” Sid answered. “What
-made you come for me?”</p>
-
-<p>“Why,” replied the Centaur, speaking slowly as
-if it were not easy for him to talk; “I knew you could
-ride and I was sent for you.”</p>
-
-<p>Sid couldn’t understand why he could ride easier
-than any other boy. “Can’t everybody ride?” he
-asked in a quick way he has when he is interested in
-anything.</p>
-
-<p>“Oh, bless you, no,” said the Centaur; “very few
-indeed; it all depends on your mind. Most boys
-wouldn’t have seen me, much less kept on my
-back.”</p>
-
-<p>Sid thought that was very queer, but he asked no
-more questions about it. He didn’t feel very well
-acquainted yet.</p>
-
-<p>“Who sent you for me?” he continued at last.</p>
-
-<p>“Chiron sent me,” answered the Centaur getting
-on his legs, “and we must be off.”</p>
-
-<p>He put Sid on his back as before and started on a
-gentle canter. They were on the side of a mountain
-with here and there olive trees and pines.</p>
-
-<p>“Where are we?” asked Sid after a moment.</p>
-
-<p>“Is this Thes&mdash;Thes&mdash;?”</p>
-
-<p>“Yes,” said the Centaur; “it’s Thessaly.”</p>
-
-<p>“Where am I going?”</p>
-
-<p>“You are going to school,” replied the Centaur.</p>
-
-<p>That rather surprised Sid and didn’t entirely
-please him. He thought he had enough of school
-by daylight without going at night too, but he said
-nothing, thinking it certainly must be a new kind of
-school if they had to send so far for scholars, and
-wondering whether his father, who was a minister,
-would be able to pay the bills.</p>
-
-<p>The road which the Centaur took led them around
-the mountain and presently they came out into a little
-level space in the side of the mountain and in front
-of a cave. In the middle of this grassy place a Centaur
-was lying on his side, and around him were ten
-or more young men stretched full length on the
-ground and leaning on their elbows, in a half circle.</p>
-
-<p>Sid slid down to the ground and slipped into the little
-group without being noticed. The Centaur in the
-middle was very old, so old that he looked as if he
-had been alive for centuries; and he had a very wise
-and beautiful face.</p>
-
-<p>The young men were the most splendid fellows Sid
-had ever seen. They had beautiful forms and noble
-heads and fine, bright faces, and they had magnificent
-arms and chests. They looked like heroes, and
-I think most of them were.</p>
-
-<p>This was the school and a very queer school it certainly
-was. Sid was eight years old and went to a
-Kindergarten where he had books and blocks and all
-kinds of things and here they hadn’t so much as a
-scrap of paper. He was inclined to think it must be
-a poor affair, but he thought he would wait until he
-had heard some of the recitations before he made up
-his mind. That was the queerest thing of all&mdash;there
-weren’t any recitations. No books, no desks, no
-black-boards, no recitations! well, it certainly was a
-funny school. There wasn’t even a roll called. If
-there had been Sid would have heard some strange
-names. That great splendid fellow at the end of the
-line, with his curly hair all in confusion about his
-noble head, was called Hercules, and the next was
-Achilles and the next Theseus and then came Castor
-and Pollux, and Ulysses and Meleager and Æsculapius
-and others whose names I have forgotten.</p>
-
-<p>While Sid was thinking about these things the old
-Centaur began to talk. His voice was very low and
-very sweet and somehow it made Sid feel that the
-teacher had seen everything there was to be seen in
-the world and knew everything there was to be
-known. School was evidently going to begin.</p>
-
-<p>“I have told you,” said the Centaur, very slowly,
-“about the Gods and the old times when the world
-was young. I have told of heroes and of the great
-things they did. I have taught you music which the
-Gods love, and medicine which is useful for men. I
-have told you how to be strong and high-minded
-and noble. I have taught you to be brave and true
-that you may do great things for yourself and the
-world. By day I have made your bodies firm and
-sinewy, and at night I made you think of the Gods
-who live beyond the stars. What shall I tell you
-now?”</p>
-
-<p>Nobody spoke for a minute and then Ulysses, who
-had a very wise face for one so young, said: “Tell
-us of yourself, oh, Chiron.”</p>
-
-<p>This seemed to please everybody and all the scholars
-repeated the words:</p>
-
-<p>“Tell us of yourself, oh, Chiron.”</p>
-
-<p>“The Centaurs,” began Chiron after a little while,
-“were born long before men came into the world. It
-was a rough place then and needed somebody stronger
-than men to live in it. So the Gods made us with
-the strength and swiftness of the animals and yet
-with some of the thoughts and feelings of men. And
-we lived in caves and ran through the valleys, and
-leaped across the rushing streams and climbed the
-mountains. And we learned many things about the
-world and made it easier for men when they came. I
-think we were sent to do what animals couldn’t do
-and that now you are come and grown strong to conquer
-even the animals, our work is done and we
-must soon die.”</p>
-
-<p>Just then a little bell rang. At first Sid thought
-school must be out, but the bell sounded very familiar
-to him. In fact it was the cuckoo clock in the
-front parlor striking nine.</p>
-
-<p>“Bless me, Sid,” said his mother; “you ought to
-have been in bed an hour ago.”</p>
-<hr class="full x-ebookmaker-drop" />
-
-<div class="chapter">
-
-<div class="figcenter" id="c56">
-<img src="images/fig164.jpg" alt="" />
-<p class="caption"><span class="smcap">Lill’s Travels in Santa Claus Land.</span><br />
-BY ELLIS TOWNE.</p>
-</div>
-</div>
-
-<div class="figleft">
-<img src="images/fig165.jpg" alt="" />
-</div>
-
-<div>
-<img class="drop-capp6" src="images/fig166.jpg"  alt=""  />
-</div>
-
-<p class="drop-capp">EFFIE had been playing with her
-dolls one cold December morning,
-and Lill had been reading,
-until both were tired. But it
-stormed too hard to go out,
-and, as Mrs. Pelerine had said
-they need not do anything for
-two hours, their little jaws
-might have been dislocated by
-yawning before they would as much as pick up a
-pin. Presently Lill said, “Effie, shall I tell you a
-story.”</p>
-
-<p>“O yes! do!” said Effie, and she climbed up by
-Lill in the large rocking-chair in front of the grate.
-She kept very still, for she knew Lill’s stories were
-not to be interrupted by a sound, or even a motion.
-The first thing Lill did was to fix her eyes on the
-fire, and rock backward and forward quite hard for
-a little while, and then she said, “Now I am going
-to tell you about my <i>thought travels</i>, and they are
-apt to be a little queerer, but O! ever so much
-nicer, than the other kind!”</p>
-
-<div class="figright">
-<img src="images/fig167.jpg" alt="" />
-</div>
-
-<p>As Lill’s stories usually had a formal introduction
-she began: “Once upon a time, when I was
-taking a walk through the great field beyond the
-orchard, I went way on, ’round where the path turns
-behind the hill. And after I had walked a little way,
-I came to a high wall&mdash;built right up into the sky.
-At first I thought I had discovered the ‘ends of the
-earth,’ or perhaps I had somehow come to the great
-wall of China. But after walking a long way I came
-to a large gate, and over it was printed in beautiful
-gold letters, ‘<span class="smcap">Santa Claus Land</span>,’ and the letters
-were large enough for a baby to read!”</p>
-
-<p>How large that might be Lill did not stop to
-explain.</p>
-
-<p>“But the gate was shut tight,” she continued, “and
-though I knocked and knocked and knocked, as hard
-as I could, nobody came to open it. I was dreadfully
-disappointed, because I felt as if Santa Claus must
-live here all of the year except when he went out to
-pay Christmas visits, and it would be so lovely to see
-him in his own home, you know. But what was I to
-do? The gate was entirely too high to climb over,
-and there wasn’t even a crack to peek through!”</p>
-
-<div class="figcenter">
-<img src="images/fig168.jpg" alt="" />
-<p class="caption">“<span class="smcap">Little barefoot children ran off with them.</span>”</p>
-</div>
-
-<p>Here Lill paused, and Effie drew a long breath,
-and looked greatly disappointed. Then Lill went
-on:</p>
-
-<p>“But you see, as I was poking about, I pressed a
-bell-spring, and in a moment&mdash;jingle, jingle, jingle,
-the bells went ringing far and near, with such a merry
-sound as was never heard before. While they were
-still ringing the gate slowly opened and I walked in.
-I didn’t even stop to inquire if Santa Claus was at
-home, for I forgot all about myself and my manners,
-it was so lovely. First there was a small paved square
-like a court; it was surrounded by rows and rows of
-dark green trees, with several avenues opening between
-them.</p>
-
-<p>“In the centre of the court was a beautiful marble
-fountain, with streams of sugar plums and bon-bons
-tumbling out of it. Funny-looking little men were
-filling cornucopias at the fountain, and pretty little
-barefoot children, with chubby hands and dimpled
-shoulders, took them as soon as they were filled, and
-ran off with them. They were all too much occupied
-to speak to me, but as I came up to the fountain one
-of the funny little fellows gave me a cornucopia, and
-I marched on with the babies.</p>
-
-<p>“We went down one of the avenues, which would
-have been very dark only it was splendidly lighted
-up with Christmas candles. I saw the babies were
-slyly eating a candy or two, so I tasted mine, and
-they were delicious&mdash;the real Christmas kind. After
-we had gone a little way, the trees were smaller and
-not so close together, and here there were other
-funny little fellows who were climbing up on ladders
-and tying toys and bon-bons to the trees. The children
-stopped and delivered their packages, but I
-walked on, for there was something in the distance
-that I was curious to see. I could see that it was a
-large garden, that looked as if it might be well cared
-for, and had many things growing in it. But even in
-the distance it didn’t look natural, and when I reached
-it I found it was a very uncommon kind of a garden
-indeed. I could scarcely believe my eyes, but there
-were dolls and donkeys and drays and cars and
-croquet coming up in long, straight rows, and ever so
-many other things beside. In one place the wooden
-dolls had only just started; their funny little heads
-were just above ground, and I thought they looked
-very much surprised at their surroundings. Farther
-on were china dolls, that looked quite grown up, and
-I suppose were ready to pull; and a gardener was
-hoeing a row of soldiers that didn’t look in a very
-healthy condition, or as if they had done very well.</p>
-
-<p>“The gardener looked familiar, I thought, and as I
-approached him he stopped work and, leaning on his
-hoe he said, ‘How do you do, Lilian? I am very
-glad to see you.’</p>
-
-<p>“The moment he raised his face I knew it was
-Santa Claus, for he looked exactly like the portrait
-we have of him. You can easily believe I was glad
-then! I ran and put both of my hands in his, fairly
-shouting that I was so glad to find him.</p>
-
-<p>“He laughed and said:</p>
-
-<p>“‘Why, I am generally to be found here or hereabouts,
-for I work in the grounds every day.’</p>
-
-<p>“And I laughed too, because his laugh sounded so
-funny; like the brook going over stones, and the wind
-up in the trees. Two or three times, when I thought
-he had done he would burst out again, laughing the
-vowels in this way: ‘Ha, ha, ha, ha! He, he, he, he,
-he! Hi, hi, hi, hi, hi! Ho, ho, ho, h-o-oo!’”</p>
-
-<p>Lill did it very well, and Effie laughed till the tears
-came to her eyes; and she could quite believe Lill
-when she said, “It grew to be so funny that I couldn’t
-stand, but fell over into one of the little chairs that
-were growing in a bed just beyond the soldiers.</p>
-
-<p>“When Santa Claus saw that he stopped suddenly,
-saying:</p>
-
-<p>“‘There, that will do. I take a hearty laugh every
-day, for the sake of digestion.’</p>
-
-<p>“Then he added, in a whisper, ‘That is the reason
-I live so long and don’t grow old. I’ve been the
-same age ever since the chroniclers began to take
-notes, and those who are best able to judge think I’ll
-continue to be this way for about one thousand eight
-hundred and seventy-six years longer,&mdash;they probably
-took a new observation at the Centennial, and
-they know exactly.’</p>
-
-<p>“I was greatly delighted to hear this, and I told
-him so. He nodded and winked and said it was ‘all
-right,’ and then asked if I’d like to see the place. I
-said I would, so he threw down the hoe with a sigh,
-saying, ‘I don’t believe I shall have more than half a
-crop of soldiers this season. They came up well, but
-the arms and legs seem to be weak. When I get to
-town I’ll have to send out some girls with glue pots,
-to stick them fast.’</p>
-
-<p>“The town was at some distance, and our path
-took us by flower-beds where some exquisite little
-toys were growing, and a hot-bed where new varieties
-were being prop&mdash;<i>propagated</i>. Pretty soon we came to
-a plantation of young trees, with rattles, and rubber
-balls, and ivory rings growing on the branches, and as
-we went past they rang and bounded about in the
-merriest sort of a way.</p>
-
-<p>“‘There’s a nice growth,’ said Santa Claus, and it
-<i>was</i> a nice growth for babies; but just beyond I saw
-something so perfectly splendid that I didn’t care
-about the plantation.”</p>
-
-<p>“Well,” said Lill impressively, seeing that Effie was
-sufficiently expectant, “it was a lovely grove. The
-trees were large, with long drooping branches, and the
-branches were just loaded with dolls’ clothes. There
-were elegant silk dresses, with lovely sashes of every
-color&mdash;”</p>
-
-<p>Just here Effie couldn’t help saying “O!” for she
-had a weakness for sashes. Lill looked stern, and
-put a warning hand over her mouth, and went on.</p>
-
-<p>“There was everything that the most fashionable
-doll could want, growing in the greatest profusion.
-Some of the clothes had fallen, and there were funny-looking
-girls picking them up, and packing them in
-trunks and boxes. ‘These are all ripe,’ said Santa
-Claus, stopping to shake a tree, and the clothes came
-tumbling down so fast that the workers were busier
-than ever. The grove was on a hill, so that we had a
-beautiful view of the country. First there was a park
-filled with reindeer, and beyond that was the town,
-and at one side a large farm-yard filled with animals
-of all sorts.”</p>
-
-<div class="figright">
-<img src="images/fig169.jpg" alt="" />
-<p class="caption">“<span class="smcap">Santa Claus fed them with lumps of sugar.</span>”</p>
-</div>
-
-<p>“But as Santa Claus seemed in a hurry I did not
-stop long to look. Our path led through the park,
-and we stopped to call ‘Prancer’ and ‘Dancer’ and
-‘Donder’ and ‘Blitzen,’ and Santa Claus fed them with
-lumps of sugar from his pocket. He pointed out
-‘Comet’ and ‘Cupid’ in a distant part of the
-park; ‘Dasher’ and ‘Vixen’ were nowhere to be
-seen.</p>
-
-<p>“Here I found most of the houses were Swiss
-cottages, but there were some fine churches and public
-buildings, all of beautifully illustrated building blocks,
-and we stopped for a moment at a long depot, in
-which a locomotive was just <i>smashing up</i>.</p>
-
-<p>“Santa Claus’ house stood in the middle of the
-town. It was an old-fashioned looking house, very
-broad and low, with an enormous chimney. There
-was a wide step in front of the door, shaded by a
-fig-tree and grape-vine, and morning-glories and
-scarlet beans clambered by the side of the latticed
-windows; and there were great round rose-bushes,
-with great, round roses, on either side of the walk
-leading to the door.”</p>
-
-<p>“O! it must have smelled like a party,” said Effie,
-and then subsided, as she remembered that she was
-interrupting.</p>
-
-<p>“Inside, the house was
-just cozy and comfortable, a
-real grandfatherly sort of a
-place. A big chair was drawn
-up in front of the window,
-and a big book was open on
-a table in front of the chair.
-A great pack half made up
-was on the floor, and Santa
-Claus stopped to add a few
-things from his pocket. Then
-he went to the kitchen, and
-brought me a lunch of milk
-and strawberries and cookies, for he said I must be
-tired after my long walk.</p>
-
-<p>“After I had rested a little while, he said if I liked
-I might go with him to the observatory. But just as
-we were starting a funny little fellow stopped at the
-door with a wheelbarrow full of boxes of dishes.
-After Santa Claus had taken the boxes out and put
-them in the pack he said slowly,&mdash;</p>
-
-<p>“‘Let me see!’</p>
-
-<p>“He laid his finger beside his nose as he said it,
-and looked at me attentively, as if I were a sum in
-addition, and he was adding me up. I guess I must
-have come out right, for he looked satisfied, and said
-I’d better go to the mine first, and then join him in
-the observatory. Now I am afraid he was not exactly
-polite not to go with me himself,” added Lill, gravely,
-“but then he apologized by saying he had some work
-to do. So I followed the little fellow with the wheelbarrow,
-and we soon came to what looked like the
-entrance of a cave, but I suppose it was the mine. I
-followed my guide to the interior without stopping to
-look at the boxes and piles of dishes outside. Here
-I found other funny little people, busily at work with
-picks and shovels, taking out wooden dishes from the
-bottom of the cave, and china and glass from the top
-and sides, for the dishes hung down just like stalactites
-in Mammoth Cave.”</p>
-
-<p>Here Lill opened the book she had been reading,
-and showed Effie a picture of the stalactites.</p>
-
-<p>“It was so curious and so pretty that I should have
-remained longer,” said Lill, “only I remembered the
-observatory and Santa Claus.</p>
-
-<p>“When I went outside I heard his voice calling
-out, ‘Lilian! Lilian!’ It sounded a great way off,
-and yet somehow it seemed to fill the air just as the
-wind does. I only had to look
-for a moment, for very near by
-was a high tower. I wonder
-I did not see it before; but in
-these queer countries you are
-sure to see something new
-every time you look about.
-Santa Claus was standing up
-at a window near the top, and
-I ran to the entrance and commenced
-climbing the stairs.
-It was a long journey, and I
-was quite out of breath when I came to the end of
-it. But here there was such a cozy, luxurious little
-room, full of stuffed chairs and lounges, bird
-cages and flowers in the windows, and pictures on
-the wall, that it was delightful to rest. There was
-a lady sitting by a golden desk, writing in a large
-book, and Santa Claus was looking through a
-great telescope, and every once in a while he
-stopped and put his ear to a large speaking-tube.
-While I was resting he went on with his observations.”</p>
-
-<div class="figright">
-<img src="images/fig170.jpg" alt="" />
-</div>
-
-<p>“Presently he said to the lady, ‘Put down a
-good mark for Sarah Buttermilk. I see she is trying
-to conquer her quick temper.’</p>
-
-<p>“‘Two bad ones for Isaac Clappertongue; he’ll
-drive his mother to the insane asylum yet.’</p>
-
-<p>“‘Bad ones all around for the Crossley children,&mdash;they
-quarrel too much.’</p>
-
-<p>“‘A good one for Harry and Alice Pleasure,
-they are quick to mind.’</p>
-
-<p>“‘And give Ruth Olive ten, for she is a peace-maker’”</p>
-
-<div class="figleft">
-<img src="images/fig171.jpg" alt="" />
-</div>
-
-<p>Just then he happened to look at me and saw I was
-rested, so he politely asked what I thought of the
-country. I said it was magnificent. He said he was
-sorry I didn’t stop in the green-house, where he had
-wax dolls and other delicate things growing. I was
-very sorry about that, and then I said I thought he
-must be very happy to own so many delightful things.</p>
-
-<p>“‘Of course I’m happy,’ said Santa Claus, and
-then he sighed. ‘But it is an awful responsibility to
-reward so many children according to their deserts.
-For I take these observations every day, and I know
-who is good and who is bad.’</p>
-
-<p>“I was glad he told me about this, and now, if he
-would only tell me what time of day he took the
-observations, I would have obtained really valuable
-information. So I stood up and made my best courtesy
-and said,&mdash;</p>
-
-<p>“‘Please, sir, would you tell me what time of day
-you usually look?’</p>
-
-<p>“‘O,’ he answered, carelessly, ‘any time from
-seven in the morning till ten at night. I am not a
-bit particular about time. I often go without my own
-meals in order to make a record of table manners.
-For instance: last evening I saw you turn your spoon
-over in your mouth, and that’s very unmannerly for a
-girl nearly fourteen.’</p>
-
-<p>“‘O, I didn’t know <i>you</i> were looking,’ said I, very
-much ashamed; ‘and I’ll never do it again,’ I
-promised.</p>
-
-<div class="figright">
-<img src="images/fig172.jpg" alt="" />
-</div>
-
-<p>“Then he said I might look through the telescope,
-and I looked right down into our house. There was
-mother very busy and very tired, and all of the
-children teasing. It was queer, for I was there, too,
-and the <i>bad-est</i> of any. Pretty soon I ran to a quiet
-corner with a book, and in a few minutes mamma had
-to leave her work and call, ‘Lilian, Lilian, it’s time
-for you to practise.’</p>
-
-<p>“‘Yes, mamma,’ I answered, ‘I’ll come right away.’</p>
-
-<p>“As soon as I said this Santa Claus whistled for
-‘Comet’ and ‘Cupid,’ and they came tearing up the
-tower. He put me in a tiny sleigh, and away we
-went, over great snow-banks of clouds, and before I
-had time to think I was landed in the big chair, and
-mamma was calling ‘Lilian, Lilian, it’s time for you to
-practise,’ just as she is doing now, and I must go.”</p>
-
-<p>So Lill answered, “Yes, mamma,” and ran to the
-piano.</p>
-
-<p>Effie sank back in the chair to think. She wished
-Lill had found out how many black marks she had,
-and whether that lady was Mrs. Santa Claus&mdash;and
-had, in fact, obtained more accurate information about
-many things.</p>
-
-<p>But when she asked about some of them afterwards,
-Lill said she didn’t know, for the next time
-she had traveled in that direction she found <span class="smcap">Santa
-Claus Land</span> had moved.</p>
-
-<div class="figcenter">
-<img src="images/fig173.jpg" alt="" />
-</div>
-
-<div class="figcenter">
-<img src="images/fig174.jpg" alt="" />
-<p class="caption">GRANDMA AND TODDLEKINS.</p>
-</div>
-
-<hr class="full x-ebookmaker-drop" />
-
-<div class="chapter">
-
-
-<h2 class="nobreak" id="c57">BOB’S “BREAKING IN.”</h2>
-</div>
-
-<hr class="r5" />
-<p class="c more">BY ELEANOR PUTNAM.</p>
-<hr class="r6" />
-
-
-
-
-<p class="drop-cap">“WHY don’t you write a story, Tom?” said
-Jim.</p>
-
-<p>“Can’t,” said I; “never did such a thing in my
-life.”</p>
-
-<p>You see the beginning of it all was Jim’s coming
-home for a three months’ leave. Jim’s in the navy
-and just home from Japan. So he came to see us,
-and so I broke my leg. When we came home from
-school we had planned no end of larks for the vacation,
-what with the Christmas tree and sleighing and
-skating and coasting, and making candy over to Aunt
-Lewes’, and going into Boston to Pinafore and having
-Charlotte-russe at Parker’s, and all the rest.</p>
-
-<p>So the first thing I did the very night after we got
-home, was to fall through a bad place in the stable
-floor and break my leg, and Will said it was lucky it
-wasn’t one of the horses. Of course that finished
-my fun, for I could not go anywhere with the rest, but
-just had to lie there with my leg in splints; and
-though of course I had my presents just the same, I
-was mad all the vacation.</p>
-
-<p>It wasn’t any great fun, you’d better believe, to lie
-on a lounge and stick in the house and see Will going
-everywhere and having no end of jolly times every day.</p>
-
-<p>Then when the Saturday came for him to go back
-to Dr. Thomas’s and leave me behind, and I thought
-of seeing all the fellows and hearing what they had
-for presents and all that, I concluded that if I’d
-been well I’d have been glad for once in my life even
-to go back to school. It wasn’t that I didn’t have
-enough done for me either, for mother and Jennie,
-the cook, almost cured me of ever liking cream cakes
-and jam again, by the heaps of it they gave me.
-Nell made me more neckties than I can wear in ten
-years, and played backgammon by the hour. Father
-brought me a new book from the city nearly every
-night, and Jim told me more stories&mdash;“yarns” he
-called them&mdash;and he and I made the most complete
-man-of-war that ever was seen in these parts. So
-you can see that I was not neglected, but I tell you
-there’s nothing like being well and having two whole
-legs to stand on. I’d got pretty tired of reading and
-jig-sawing and painting, and one afternoon I’d been
-telling them about the time we broke Bob Richards
-in at school, and says Jim:</p>
-
-<p>“Tom, old fellow,” says he, “why don’t you write
-a story. Write it all out, and send it to <span class="smcap">Wide Awake</span>;
-you never know what you can do till you try,” says
-he.</p>
-
-<p>I thought I couldn’t at first, but the next day Jim
-had to drive over to Medford, and Nell had to go too
-to match mother’s gray dress and get some red ribbons
-for the dog. They both went off, and mother had a
-caller down stairs, so I was left all alone, and that’s
-how I came to write about it anyway.</p>
-
-<p>You see our fellows have always had a fashion of giving
-the new boys a “breaking in.” The thing began
-by just doubling up the bed clothes, or sewing up the
-fellow’s sleeves, and then they got to ducking them
-and scaring them with ghosts, and when at last they
-pumped on little Fred Harris and frightened him into
-brain fever, Dr. Thomas forbade anything more of
-the sort.</p>
-
-<p>Now when Dr. Thomas says anything he has a way
-of meaning it, so we fellows were surprised enough
-when one day Jeff Ryder came into the gym where
-we were having a circus, and said: “I tell you what
-let’s do! Let’s give Bob Richards a regular breaking
-in!”</p>
-
-<p>“Yes I would, Jeff,” said Harry Thorndike, in the
-odd, quiet way he had with him. Harry Thorndike
-was our head boy, and entered Harvard last summer.
-“Yes, I would,” says he, “and get sent home for a
-month; it would be no end of fun. I would.”</p>
-
-<p>Of course we boys all looked at Jeff when Harry
-spoke in that way, to see if he didn’t feel cheap, but
-he didn’t, a bit.</p>
-
-<p>“I’ll take all the blame,” says he, “and I’ll risk
-being sent home.”</p>
-
-<p>So then he told us all about his plan, and we
-thought it was a jolly good one too.</p>
-
-<p>Bob Richards was a new fellow; only been there
-four weeks; and when he first came we thought he
-was a regular moon-calf. He was rather small of his
-age and had a kind of pinched, half-starved look, as
-if he’d never had a good square meal from soup clear
-through to pudding in his life. He was homesick
-and lonesome too, and we got into the way of calling
-him “baby” and “sissy,” but he never seemed to
-mind a bit, but would always help a fellow with his
-lessons just the same, and was first-class in any game.</p>
-
-<p>One day Ralph Bixby, the bully of the school, said
-something about Richard’s mother, and I just wish
-you could have seen that little fellow fire up.</p>
-
-<p>“You say what you like about me,” says he, “but
-don’t you say anything about my mother; it won’t be
-best for you, Bixby.”</p>
-
-<p>“Do you want to fight?” says Bixby, bristling up
-like a turkey cock.</p>
-
-<p>“It is not fighting I am after,” says Richards, very
-quietly, “but I can fight if there is need of it.”</p>
-
-<p>But Bixby said he wouldn’t fight with an underclass
-man, and then went off and told Dr. Thomas
-that little Richards had been offering to fight. We
-all liked little Richards, for he was clear grit right
-through and no mistake. So when Jeff told us his
-plan we all agreed to it and there weren’t more than
-half a dozen of us fellows that knew about it, and
-we didn’t have to go and tell everyone about it either,
-as girls would.</p>
-
-<div class="figcenter">
-<img src="images/fig175.jpg" alt="" />
-<p class="caption">BOB IS CALLED UPON TO MEET HIS DOOM.</p>
-</div>
-
-<p>At last the term was ended, and we were going
-home next day; that is, all we fellows who had any
-homes to go to, or any invitations to visit. But Bob
-Richards, he didn’t have any place to go because his
-mother was poor and lived way down in Machias, and
-it was too far away. So most boys would have been
-ugly about it and envious of the other boys, but Richards
-wasn’t a bit. Will and I were though, one winter
-when all our people were away in Germany, and
-we had to stay at the school or else go to Aunt Jocelyn’s.
-We don’t like very well to go to Aunt Jocelyn’s,
-for she always has cold meat and rice pudding
-without any plums, and says that she likes to see
-boys sober and useful. She gave Will and me dictionaries
-for Christmas presents. So we’d rather go
-most anywhere than to Aunt Jocelyn’s. But we
-were mad though to think we had to stay at the school,
-and Will told one of the fellows that he’d punch
-him if he didn’t stop looking so glad.</p>
-
-<p>Little Richards you would have thought was going
-himself, he looked so glad and happy, and rushed
-about up and down stairs into all the rooms, helping
-the fellows pack and cord their trunks, strap up their
-valises, and directing cards for their boxes, and you’d
-have thought he was going himself sure enough.</p>
-
-<p>“Don’t you wish you were going home, Richards?”
-said Ned Smith. He is one of those fellows
-who are always saying things they ought not
-to, though not meaning to be hateful. He’d do no
-end of things for a fellow who was sick, and then
-like as not tell him something that would make him
-sicker than ever. So he couldn’t think of anything
-better to say than to ask little Richards if he didn’t
-wish he was going home.</p>
-
-<p>“Why, yes,” said Bob, in the bright, quick way he
-had with him; “why, yes, of course I wish I was going
-home, but if I can’t I can’t, so there’s an end to
-it. Besides I’m going home next summer; it’ll only
-be twenty-five weeks.”</p>
-
-<p>Just to think of his speaking of it in that chipper
-way, as if he’d said twenty-five minutes instead of
-weeks.</p>
-
-<p>The packing was all done after a while, and we
-were ready for an early start next morning. We had
-eaten our last supper, beef-steak and fried potatoes&mdash;we
-always have a sort of extra good supper the
-last night of the term. Then after supper we had a
-good time in Mrs. Thomas’ own room, with her two
-babies and her cousin who played the piano for us,
-and by ten o’clock we were all in our rooms and the
-house got still.</p>
-
-<p>It was eleven o’clock when we heard three mews
-and a scratch like a cat, which was Jeff Ryder’s signal;
-he could have opened the door and come in
-just as well, but he was always very fond of giving
-all kinds of signs.</p>
-
-<p>We opened the door and there were Hal Thorndike
-and the two Everett boys and Jeff. Will and I had a
-room alone. We came out and joined them and
-went up stairs trying to keep still, though Will would
-giggle, and he and Jeff had a scuffle on the landing
-about which should go in and get Bob out of bed.</p>
-
-<p>At last Harry Thorndike settled it by telling them
-both to go. They had masks that Jeff and I made
-of black cloth with holes cut through for the eyes and
-mouth.</p>
-
-<p>So they went in and waked up Bob, and said in a
-horrid, scarey sort of way, “Unhappy mortal! prepare
-to suffer your doom! Arise and proceed to the
-hall of judgment!”</p>
-
-<p>He wasn’t more than half awake, but he was clear
-pluck, and he came out shivering with cold and with
-a blanket round his shoulders.</p>
-
-<p>The boys had blindfolded him, and they led him
-round and round till he was pretty well mixed up,
-and then they took him to the Hall of Judgment,
-which was Harry Thorndike’s room.</p>
-
-<p>The two younger boys staid with him while we
-older ones fell to work like beavers in Bob’s room.</p>
-
-<p>We had a hard time though you’d better believe,
-trying to keep quiet, for the fellows would forget
-every now and then and speak or laugh out loud.
-We had Archibald, the school janitor, up to help us,
-and we made quick work of what we had to do I can
-tell you.</p>
-
-<p>To begin with, his room was just the forlornest
-place that ever you saw, and no mistake! We furnish
-our own rooms at Dr. Thomas’, and we always
-try to fix them up rather gorgeous. Our mothers and
-sisters are always sending us gimcracks to make our
-dens kind of gay. Then if fellows happen to have
-any girl friends you know, they are always sending
-them tidies and such trash for philopene presents,
-and though we don’t much care to have the things
-round under feet, somehow if one fellow has them, all
-the rest wants them too.</p>
-
-<p>But I just wish you could have seen little Richards’
-room! the barest, coldest place! There was
-no carpet, only a common sort of rug before the little
-old stove, that was so wheezy and full of cracks
-that it would not do much but smoke anyway. There
-was a bedstead, and his study table with his books on
-it. There was a picture of his mother, and one of
-his sister&mdash;rather pretty she was too, with smiling
-eyes like Richards’, and soft hair in little rings about
-her forehead and face. Thorndike said that she
-would be very pretty when she was older&mdash;say seventeen.
-Mrs. Thomas’ cousin is sixteen and a half.
-Bob had put a little wreath of some kind round the
-two pictures. There was a plant too on the table.
-He brought it in his hand all the way from Machias,
-with a brown paper bag over the top of it, and now
-it was just ready to bloom.</p>
-
-<p>The first thing we did was to bring in a big warm
-carpet all made and fitted to the room, and we spread
-it down, but didn’t nail it because of the noise and
-because we thought he’d like to do it himself. Then
-we covered the old table and mantle with jolly, bright
-cloths. We never could have picked them out in the
-world if it hadn’t been for Mrs. Thomas’ cousin, the
-one who played on the piano for us. She is rather
-nice for a girl, and sometimes wears little gold horse-shoes
-in her ears. Jeff Ryder is going to marry her
-when he is twenty-one, but nobody knows it yet, not
-even she. Jeff only told me one night when I had a
-sore throat and he slept with me. So she helped us
-pick out the things, and gave us a tidy, and a pin-cushion
-the size of a bean bag. Then we moved in
-a first-class stove, and Archibald set her up and built
-a rouser of a fire in her. We put a pair of new
-blankets on the bed, and Jeff Ryder brought out a
-student’s lamp&mdash;one of the double headers; the
-two Belknap boys&mdash;that means Will and me&mdash;gave
-a big easy chair to go beside the table; then the
-Everett boys gave a set of book shelves; and Dr.
-Thomas gave a box of books, as many as a dozen I
-should think. We left these in the box, for Will and
-I always think that half the fun of having presents
-is opening the bundles ourselves. Harry Thorndike
-gave the stove and a little clock from his own room.
-We put the pin-cushion on the bureau, and the tidy
-on the chair, and while we were standing there looking
-at it all, there came the very softest kind of a
-step outside and there was the Doctor’s wife. She
-had a picture in her arms, one that I had seen a good
-many times in her own sitting-room. It was quite a
-large picture of a woman with a sort of hood on her
-hair and a baby in her arms; both the woman and
-the baby had a kind of shiny hoop just above their
-heads in the air, looking as if in a minute they’d drop
-down and make crowns. Will told me once that he
-thought it was a picture of Mrs. Thomas and the
-baby, but I think not, though there was the same
-kind of look too on both their faces.</p>
-
-<p>“Hang this up, boys,” she said; “he is very fond
-of it, and I have had it for a good many years. I’ve
-babies of my own now to look at, so we will give this
-to Bob. Let us hang it over the mantle-piece.”</p>
-
-<p>There is something rather queer about the Doctor’s
-wife. It isn’t that she isn’t pretty, for she is; and
-it isn’t that she is odd or old, for she is younger a
-good deal than the Doctor, and as kind and jolly as
-a girl; but there is something queer about her, for I
-don’t know how many fellows have said she seemed
-just like their mothers; and what I want to know is
-how in creation can she look and seem like the mothers
-of so many boys&mdash;dark and light, and homely
-and handsome, English, German, American, and even
-one colored fellow said she made him think of his
-“mammy.” I think it must be a kind of motherish
-way which she has, that makes us all feel so about
-her.</p>
-
-<p>She gave the picture to Hal Thorndike and he
-hung it up, and I tell you the room did look just immense.</p>
-
-<p>Then we went down stairs and brought Bob up
-again, and sat him down in his new chair, and told
-him not to take off his blinder till he’d counted three
-hundred, and then we all ran down into Will’s and
-my room to wait and see what he would do. We
-rather expected to hear him shout, or tear round, or
-do something or other; but we counted three hundred
-two or three times over, and not a sound came
-from his room.</p>
-
-<p>By and by Jeff said he was going up to see what
-the row was&mdash;which was only his way of speaking;
-for you couldn’t call it a row, could you, when there
-wasn’t a sound to be heard!</p>
-
-<p>Jeff didn’t come back, and then Will said he’d go
-and see where Jeff was, so Hal said it was like Clever
-Alice and her cheeses that she sent rolling down hill
-after each other; but at last the two boys came back,
-not grinning at all, but solemn and long-faced enough.</p>
-
-<p>“I guess he’s mad,” said Jeff; “anyhow he can’t
-be glad, for he’s howling!” which was another of
-Jeff’s ways of speaking; for Bob certainly was not
-howling.</p>
-
-<p>“I don’t see what he wants to act that way for,”
-said Will. “I bet I wouldn’t if I had so many
-things given to me at once!”</p>
-
-<p>“You can’t always tell,” said Hal. “It isn’t
-always a sign a fellow is mad if he howls. I howled
-like a good one when my father came home from sea,
-when I was a little fellow, a good many years ago.”</p>
-
-<p>“Let’s go up and see what’s the matter with him,”
-said I.</p>
-
-<p>“Let’s go to bed!” said Harry. “Don’t one of
-you young rats go near his room to-night, or I’ll report
-you to the Doctor!”</p>
-
-<p>We all laughed, for of course we knew he’d never
-report us; he isn’t that kind; but we minded what
-Hal said all the same, as everybody has a way of
-doing, and we didn’t hear a sound more till morning,
-and the gong waked us up.</p>
-
-<p>And then there was Archibald at the door to help
-with the trunks and boxes, and the lamps were lighted
-in the dining-room, and there were fritters and
-syrup for breakfast, but they were too hot to eat.
-Then there was Jeff Ryder with a present for the
-Doctor’s wife’s cousin&mdash;some candy in a jolly, silver
-box, lined with blue silk (Jeff will spend all his
-quarter’s money on one thing), and there in a dark
-corner of the stairs was the cousin herself, with a little
-pink sack on, crying about something, and Harry
-Thorndike was leaning on the balusters saying, as I
-came along, “Why Anette, child, it’s only for two
-weeks anyhow! Come, don’t send me off this way;
-can’t you wish me a merry Christmas?”</p>
-
-<p>Then they shouted that the big sleigh was ready,
-and I thought we were going to get off without having
-to see Bob at all.</p>
-
-<p>So I rushed out through the hall and
-down the slippery steps, but there was
-Bob before me, very white in the face,
-and with his eyes looking more than
-ever like his sister’s.</p>
-
-<p>I tell you we fellows felt awful cheap;
-a sight cheaper than Bob did himself.
-Jeff Ryder whispered to me that he
-was going to bolt, but it was no go.
-Bob stepped right in front of us.</p>
-
-<div class="figright">
-<img src="images/fig176.jpg" alt="" />
-<p class="caption">HURRAH FOR HOME AND CHRISTMAS!</p>
-</div>
-
-<p>“Boys,” said he; “boys, you must
-let me&mdash;if I only could tell you&mdash;if
-you only knew&mdash;” and just then Hal
-Thorndike came along (the cousin had
-run away up-stairs) and set things right
-as he has a way of doing.</p>
-
-<p>“All right, youngster,” he said; “we
-know just what you want to say&mdash;no
-one who looked at you could accuse
-you of being ungrateful. Let up now,
-old fellow, don’t say a word more, but
-go up to my room and see if I left my
-watch-key on the bureau.”</p>
-
-<p>Bob ran off, and Harry said, “now
-cut for it, fellows!” says he; “hip,
-vamoose, get, pile into the sleigh, or
-he’ll be back again, thanking you
-worse than ever!”</p>
-
-<p>So in we jumped, the whip cracked,
-the bells jingled, and we gave three
-cheers for the Doctor, and three more
-for his wife, and then we dashed
-away.</p>
-
-<p>Of course, little Richards wrote to
-us, but a letter isn’t half so bad as to
-have a fellow brace right up and thank
-you before your face and eyes. So
-we got out of it pretty well after all, didn’t we?</p>
-
-<p>And this is all there is about “Bob’s ‘Breaking
-In,’” and not much of a story either to write all out and
-send to a magazine. But you see Jim told me to, and
-it was lonesome with Jim and Nell and mother gone,
-and only the cat for company the whole afternoon.</p>
-
-<hr class="tb" />
-
-
-
-
-
-<div class="poetry-container">
-<div class="poetry">
-  <div class="stanza">
-    <div class="verse indent0"><span class="big1">L</span>ITTLE John Locke</div>
-    <div class="verse indent0">Says kittie can talk;</div>
-    <div class="verse indent1">And this, my dears, is exactly how:</div>
-  </div>
-  <div class="stanza">
-    <div class="verse indent0">John said, “Kittie mine,</div>
-    <div class="verse indent0">Say, when will you dine?”</div>
-    <div class="verse indent1">And kittie looked up and said, “<i>Neow-w</i>.”</div>
-  </div>
-</div>
-</div>
-
-<hr class="full x-ebookmaker-drop" />
-
-<div class="chapter">
-
-<div class="figcenter" id="c58">
-<img src="images/fig177.jpg" alt="" />
-</div>
-
-
-<h2 class="nobreak">THE FIRST HUNT</h2>
-</div>
-
-
-
-<hr class="r5" />
-<p class="c more">BY J. H. WOODBURY.</p>
-<hr class="r6" />
-
-
-
-
-<p class="drop-cap">EPHRAIM BARTLETT’S first hunting adventure
-was of such a serio-comic nature that it
-seems really worth relating.</p>
-
-<p>Ephraim’s father was a “selectman.” He had also
-been a captain of militia in his younger days, and
-therefore it happened that in speaking of him everybody
-called him “The Captain.” He bore his honors
-meekly, was a well-to-do farmer, and very much
-respected.</p>
-
-<p>It was town-meeting day&mdash;early in November,&mdash;when,
-of course the captain had to go to the polls to
-look after the voting, and help count the votes. It
-was delightful Indian-summer weather, too; one of
-the last of those soft hazy days in the late autumn,
-when there is such a quiet beauty over the earth that
-it seems of heaven itself. When even the winds forget
-to blow; and it seems, at times, as if all nature
-were asleep. Then can be heard, in the edge of the
-distant forest, the tapping of woodpeckers, the barking
-of squirrels, and the hoarse cries of blue-jays, so
-distinctly does every slight sound reach you through
-the still atmosphere. It was on such a day that the
-captain and his hired man went to town-meeting,
-leaving Ephraim “the only man on the farm.”</p>
-
-<p>Now Ephraim had been all the fall longing for a
-hunt; but his father had not time to go hunting with
-him, and he thought Ephraim too young to go alone.
-His father had no objection to his going alone, if he
-would only go without a gun; but Ephraim could not
-see the use of hunting without a gun. He longed to
-get into the woods with his father’s old training gun,
-all alone. This old piece was rather heavy for sporting
-purposes; but it was always kept in perfect order,
-standing in a corner of the captain’s bed-room, behind
-his desk.</p>
-
-<p>So, after his father was gone, and while his mother
-was busied about the house, the temptation to take
-that gun was more than Ephraim could withstand.
-Watching his opportunity, he first secured the powder-horn
-and shot-pouch out of the drawer where they
-were kept, and then he took the musket, and bore it
-stealthily away behind the barn. He felt in a hurry,
-and as if he were not doing quite right, and was not
-quite easy in his mind, even after he had got the gun
-out of sight. He half resolved to carry it back at
-once, but finally concluded that he could return it
-just as well after he had had his hunt, and went to
-work to load it.</p>
-
-<p>Ephraim was not quite sure how the gun should be
-loaded; but the powder seemed the most essential
-thing, so he put a handful of that in first. Then,
-without any wad between, as there should have been,
-he put in a handful of shot; and they were large
-enough, he thought, to kill almost anything. He put
-a very big wad on top of these, and rammed it hard
-down with the iron ramrod. It was a flint-lock piece,
-and he knew that powder would be needed in the
-pan; so he opened it to put some in. But the pan
-was already filled; for in ramming down the charge
-the piece had primed itself.</p>
-
-<p>It was all right, Ephraim felt sure, and, keeping
-the barn between him and the house, he went towards
-the wood.</p>
-
-<p>It was a lonely old wood. I often went through it
-myself when I was a boy, and I know all about it.
-In the brightest day it would be dark and gloomy
-under some of those great, wide-spreading, low-branched
-hemlocks. There were all kinds of wood
-there that are found in a New England forest; beech,
-birch, maple, oak, pine, hemlock and chestnut; and
-partridges, squirrels, rabbits, owls,&mdash;in fact, all sorts
-of small game made it their home.</p>
-
-<p>With the gun on his shoulder Ephraim entered the
-woods and went trudging straight into it, as if all
-the game worth shooting were in the middle of it.
-He could hear the squirrels and blue-jays in the high
-branches overhead; but it was his first hunt, and he
-was resolved to have something bigger.</p>
-
-<p>His progress was suddenly arrested, however, by
-the appearance of a very sedate-looking bird, as large
-as a good-sized fowl, with a thick muffler of feathers
-around its throat and shoulders, that sat perched on
-a dead limb before him. The bird was facing him,
-and when he stopped it stretched its neck downward,
-and turned its head to one side as if to listen or
-observe his movements. Ephraim wondered why it
-did not fly away, but presently it occurred to him that
-it was an owl, and could not see him.</p>
-
-<p>“Ah!” thought he, “you are just the fellow I’m
-looking for! Now just stay where you are a minute,
-and I’ll fix you!”</p>
-
-<p>He had to find a rest before he could hold his gun
-steady, and then he was sure to take good aim. But
-he had to draw so hard on the trigger that he closed
-his eyes, just as the gun went off; and when he
-opened them again he was looking another way.</p>
-
-<p>The action of his piece seemed unaccountable. It
-had started backward so suddenly as to throw him
-over, and there was a pain in his shoulder as if it had
-been hit. But he was sure he had killed the owl, and,
-looking for it, he was again surprised to see it sailing
-noiselessly away. It seemed in no great haste, and
-evidently had not started without due reflection. It
-stopped, before going out of sight, and remained
-perched on another dry limb, as if waiting for Ephraim
-to come and shoot it again.</p>
-
-<p>Without reflecting at all as to whether he would be
-any better off after shooting that owl, or whether it
-had not just as good a right to live as he, Ephraim
-sprang up, seeing that there was a chance for another
-shot, and made all haste to reload his piece.</p>
-
-<p>He put the powder and shot in without any wad
-between, as before&mdash;though not quite so much as at
-first,&mdash;for he thought he had loaded a little too
-heavy. There was a pain in his shoulder yet, and he
-did not care to be hit that way again. He rammed
-the charge down in a great hurry, looked in the pan
-to see if the priming was all right, and then went
-softly towards the owl.</p>
-
-<p>When Ephraim got near the owl turned his head
-first to one side and then to the other, as if he suspected
-there was a boy in the woods, somewhere; but
-he did not fly, and, nervous with haste, Ephraim found
-another rest, and again took good aim.</p>
-
-<p>Strange to say that gun hit him again. He even
-rolled upon the ground, feeling as if he had got a
-double allowance of pain. Just as soon as he could
-think at all, he decided that he wouldn’t fire that gun
-again. Of course he had killed the owl (a very reasonable
-supposition, considering how hard the gun
-had hit him), and he guessed he wouldn’t hunt any
-more that time.</p>
-
-<p>But when he looked for the owl he didn’t see him
-anywhere. Could it be that there hadn’t been any
-owl there? An optical illusion, he might have thought,
-had he ever heard of such a thing. At any rate there
-was no owl there. But he noticed something sticking
-in the limb where he thought the owl had been&mdash;and
-he kept his eyes on it for some time. It looked
-like the ramrod that belonged to his gun; but how in
-the world could that be?</p>
-
-<p>He looked at his gun, which was lying on the soft
-bed of leaves where it had fallen, and then he felt
-sure it was the ramrod, for it was gone. But how in
-the world?&mdash;He couldn’t understand it&mdash;till he
-happened to think that perhaps he didn’t take the
-ramrod out after loading.</p>
-
-<p>“Ah! that’s it!” thought he. “But what am I
-going to do? It’s away up there and I can’t get it!”
-and then Ephraim began to wish he had left the gun
-at home. The pain in his shoulder didn’t trouble him
-much then; his trouble was mostly in his mind, concerning
-his father and that ramrod. How he could
-reconcile one to the loss of the other was more than
-he could tell.</p>
-
-<p>It was a very large tree, without a foot-hold or a
-finger-hold for a long way up, and the ramrod was
-stuck in a large dead limb, ten feet out. Ephraim
-saw at once that he never could get it; and he wished
-he hadn’t fired that last shot. Possibly he thought
-the owl was to blame; but whether he did or not
-there was no help for it. So after awhile he got up,
-and picked up his gun, and went slowly and sadly
-towards home.</p>
-
-<p>He had not decided upon any course in particular
-when he entered the house. It was one of those
-cases the explanation of which must be left largely
-to the circumstances of the moment.</p>
-
-<p>His mother met him with the gun in his hand.</p>
-
-<p>“Ephraim!” said she astonished, and too frightened
-to say more.</p>
-
-<p>“I’ve been hunting, mother,” said Ephraim, very
-demurely.</p>
-
-<p>“Hunting, my child? Merciful Father!”</p>
-
-<p>“Father didn’t know, it, mother; and I don’t want
-you to tell him.”</p>
-
-<p>“My son! my son! is the gun loaded?”</p>
-
-<p>“Not now, mother. I fired it off.”</p>
-
-<p>“For pity’s sake, Ephraim! don’t ever take it out
-again.”</p>
-
-<p>“You won’t tell father, if I won’t take it again, will
-you, mother?”</p>
-
-<p>“You’ll promise me, Ephraim, that you will never
-take it again?”</p>
-
-<p>“Yes, mother, if you won’t tell him.”</p>
-
-<p>“Then put it where it belongs,&mdash;just as you found
-it. It’s a wonder you didn’t get hurt.”</p>
-
-<p>Ephraim might have said that he was a little hurt;
-for he had a sore and swollen shoulder; but he said
-nothing of that, nor of the ramrod; but he tried to
-be as good a boy as he could all the rest of the
-day.</p>
-
-<p>The captain was late home that night, and did not
-notice anything wrong; but the next day, while at his
-desk, his eyes fell upon his old training-gun, and he
-saw that the ramrod was missing. He mused upon
-it. Where could it be? He never lent that gun;
-nobody had had it out of the house that he knew of.
-He went and asked his wife.</p>
-
-<p>Ephraim happened to be with his mother; and
-when his father asked about the ramrod he looked at
-her and she looked at him. One or the other of them
-must let the cat out, but which should it be?</p>
-
-<p>“Do you know anything about the ramrod, Ephraim?”
-she asked.</p>
-
-<p>“I went a-hunting, father,” said Ephraim, looking
-down.</p>
-
-<p>“A-hunting? Who&mdash;what&mdash;when? You have
-not been shooting that gun, have you?”</p>
-
-<p>“Yes, sir.”</p>
-
-<p>“Goodness! Who loaded it?”</p>
-
-<p>“I&mdash;did&mdash;sir.”</p>
-
-<p>“And fired it off?”</p>
-
-<p>“Yes, sir.”</p>
-
-<p>“Did you kill anything?”</p>
-
-<p>“I&mdash;don’t know,&mdash;sir.”</p>
-
-<p>After all, the captain couldn’t help laughing at this
-point, and as soon as he did Ephraim felt better. He
-brightened up in a moment, and made the best of his
-father’s good-nature by telling the whole story at
-once. He had forgotten to take the ramrod out, he
-said, and fired it at the owl. He guessed the owl
-went off to die somewhere, for he didn’t see him
-again; but the ramrod was up so high he couldn’t get
-it.</p>
-
-<p>The captain laughed; still, the view he took of the
-matter was an unpleasantly serious one for Ephraim;
-who understood that if he should ever take that gun
-again in his father’s absence the consequences would
-be direful. The gun was no gun without a ramrod,
-in his father’s trained eyes, so he at once set out, with
-Ephraim as guide, and the hired man carrying a ladder,
-to recover it.</p>
-
-<p>Ephraim led them straight to the tree, and there
-the ramrod was, still sticking in the limb. But the
-ladder proved too short, and they had to go back
-without it. The next day they went again, with the
-longest ladder on the farm, and got the ramrod and
-carried it home.</p>
-
-<p>But Ephraim never fired it off again.</p>
-<hr class="full x-ebookmaker-drop" />
-
-<div class="chapter">
-
-<div class="figcenter" id="c59">
-<img src="images/fig178.jpg" alt="" />
-</div>
-
-<h2 class="nobreak">CHINESE DECORATION FOR EASTER EGGS.</h2>
-</div>
-
-
-<hr class="r5" />
-<p class="c more"><span class="smcap">By S. K. B.</span></p>
-<hr class="r6" />
-
-<div class="figleft">
-<img src="images/fig179.jpg" alt="" />
-<p class="caption">DIAGRAMS OF DECORATIONS FOR EASTER EGGS.</p>
-</div>
-
-
-<p class="drop-cap">YOU should select a good-sized egg, and of a rich
-dark color. I have found that eggs laid by
-the Brahma hens are just about the right shade for
-pleasing effect.</p>
-
-<p>First make an opening in the large end and drop out
-the contents of the shell. Then with your pencil trace
-lightly on the shell some features as in fig. 1. Next
-paint the whites of the eyes with solid white, and the
-lips a bright vermilion. Then go over your outlines
-with black paint or India ink, filling the eyeball with
-black. Use water-color paints.</p>
-
-<p>Now we have a showy-looking Chinaman, but he
-has no cap on; neither does he wear the national
-pigtail. To supply the first of these necessary articles,
-you will cut a piece of bright-colored paper after
-the fashion of fig. 2. If you please, you can decorate
-it with a heavy line of black paint. Its pieces 1, 2, 3
-and 4, are to be bent tightly up at the dotted line, so
-as to receive a decided crease. Then each one may
-be touched with stiff paste, slipped within the shell
-and fastened. Then the strip must be pasted together
-at A and B, drawing one end over the other
-far enough to make the cap fit well.</p>
-
-<p>To make the pigtail, take some black silk twist
-and make a braid about four inches long, and about
-as thick as single zephyr worsted. Tie one end with
-a bit of thread, and paste the other end on the top of
-the back part of the head. This you will do before
-you fasten the cap on. Now our Chinaman is finished&mdash;and
-when you have hung him up by a silken
-ribbon pasted inside of his cap, he will look very
-much like fig. 3, and he can be made to hold popcorn
-or any light candy.</p>
-
-<div class="figcenter1">
-<img src="images/fig180.jpg" alt="" />
-</div>
-
-<hr class="full x-ebookmaker-drop" />
-
-<div class="chapter">
-
-
-<h2 class="nobreak" id="c60">IL SANTISSIMO BAMBINO.</h2>
-</div>
-
-<hr class="r5" />
-<p class="c more">BY PHEBE F. MᶜKEEN.</p>
-<hr class="r6" />
-
-
-
-
-<p class="drop-cap">ON the Capitoline Hill, in Rome, stands a church,
-twelve hundred years old, called Ara Cœli. It
-is unpromising in its outward appearance, but is rich
-in marbles and mosaics within.</p>
-
-<div class="figleft">
-<img src="images/fig181.jpg" alt="" />
-<p class="caption"><span class="smcap">The Bambino.</span></p>
-</div>
-
-
-<p>The most precious possession of this ancient church,
-however, is a wooden doll called Il Santissimo Bambino&mdash;The
-Most Holy Infant. It is dressed like an
-Italian baby, and an Italian baby is dressed like a
-mummy. We often see them in their mothers’ arms,
-so swathed that they can no more move than a bundle
-without any baby inside of it. Their little legs must
-ache for the freedom of kicking. The dress of <i>the</i>
-Bambino is very different from that of <i>a</i> bambino after
-all, for it is cloth of silver, and it sparkles all over
-with jewels which have been presented to it, and it
-wears a golden crown upon its head.</p>
-
-<p>This is the history of this remarkable doll, as devout
-Roman Catholics believe. You must judge for yourselves
-how much of it is truth and how much fable.</p>
-
-<p>They say this image of the infant Saviour was
-carved from olive-wood which grew upon the Mount
-of Olives, by a monk who lived in Palestine; and, as
-he had no means of painting it with sufficient beauty,
-his prayers prevailed upon St. Luke to come down
-from Heaven and color it for him. Then he sent it to
-Rome to be present at the Christmas festival. It was
-shipwrecked on the way, but finally came safely to
-land, and was received with great reverence by the
-Franciscan monks, who placed it in a shrine at Ara
-Cœli. It was soon found to have miraculous power
-to heal the sick, and was so often sent for to visit
-them, that, at one time, it received more fees than any
-physician in Rome. It has its own carriage in which
-it rides abroad, and its own attendants who guard it
-with the utmost care.</p>
-
-<p>One woman was so selfish as to think it would be
-a capital thing if she could get possession of this wonder-working
-image for herself and her friends.</p>
-
-<p>“She had another doll prepared of the same size
-and appearance as the ‘Santissimo,’ and having
-feigned sickness and obtained permission to have it
-left with her, she dressed the false image in its
-clothes, and sent it back to Ara Cœli. The fraud was
-not discovered till night, when the Franciscan monks
-were awakened by the most furious ringing of bells
-and by thundering knocks at the west door of the
-church, and, hastening thither, could see nothing but
-a wee, naked, pink foot
-peeping in from under the
-door; but when they
-opened the door, without
-stood the little naked figure
-of the true Bambino
-of Ara Cœli, shivering in
-the wind and rain. So the
-false baby was sent back
-in disgrace, and the real
-baby restored to its home,
-never to be trusted away
-alone any more.”</p>
-
-<p>This marvelous escape
-is duly recorded in the
-Sacristy of the church
-where the Bambino safely
-dwells under lock and key
-all the year, except the
-time from Christmas to
-Epiphany, when it comes
-out to receive the homage
-of the people.</p>
-
-<p>We went to see it last
-Christmas.</p>
-
-<p>As I told you, the church
-stands on one of the Seven
-Hills of the Eternal City;
-it is approached by a flight
-of stone steps as wide as
-the building itself and as
-high as the hill. There
-were many beggars on
-these steps; some old and
-blind, others young and
-bright-eyed. Beside the
-beggars, there were people
-with tiny images of the
-Baby in the Manger, toy
-sheep, and pictures of the
-Bambino for sale.</p>
-
-<p>When we went into the
-church, we found one of the chapels fitted up like a
-tableau. The chapels are something like large alcoves
-along the sides of a church. Each is consecrated to
-some saint, and often belongs to some particular family
-who have their weddings and funerals there.</p>
-
-<div class="figright">
-<img src="images/fig182.jpg" alt="" />
-<p class="caption"><span class="smcap">Family of Roman Beggars.</span></p>
-</div>
-
-<p>It was in the second chapel on the left that we
-found the scene represented. The Virgin Mary was
-dressed in a bright blue silk, adorned with various
-jewels. In her lap lay the Bambino, about the size of
-a baby six weeks old. I do not believe St. Luke
-painted its face, for it was not half so well done
-as most of the wooden dolls we see. An artificial
-mule had his nose close to the baby’s head.
-Joseph sat near, and in front the shepherds were
-kneeling. All these people were of life-size, made of
-wood, and dressed in real clothes. Beyond them was
-to be seen a pretty landscape&mdash;sheep, covered with
-real wool, a girl with a pitcher on her head coming down
-a path to a sparkling fountain of <i>glass</i>. In the distance
-was the town of Bethlehem. In mid-air hovered
-an angel, hung by a wire in his back from the
-ceiling. On pasteboard screens, above the Virgin and
-Child were painted a crowd of cherubs looking down,
-and in their midst God the Father&mdash;whom no one
-hath seen nor can see&mdash;was represented in the likeness
-of a venerable man, spreading his hands in
-blessing over the group below.</p>
-
-<p>A great many little children were coming with the
-older people to look at all this, and talking, in their
-pretty Italian tongue, about the “Bambino.”</p>
-
-<p>Epiphany, as perhaps you know, is the day kept in
-memory of the visit of the Wise Men whom the Star
-in the East guided to our Saviour’s cradle. On that
-day, Il Santissimo Bambino was to be carried with all
-ceremony back to the Sacristy; so we went to see
-that.</p>
-
-<p>We were glad to find the Blessed Virgin had two
-nice silk dresses; she had changed from blue to red,
-and the Bambino was standing on her knee. The
-Shepherds had gone, and the Wise Men had come,
-all very gorgeous in flowered brocade and cloth of
-gold, with crowns on their heads, and pages to hold
-their trains.</p>
-
-<p>It was yet an hour or two before the “Procession of
-the Holy Cradle” would proceed; so we went out of
-the side door of the church to stray about the Capitoline
-Hill in the meanwhile.</p>
-
-<p>We went down the steps where Tiberias Gracchus,
-the friend of the people, was killed, some two thousand
-years ago. That brought us into a small square
-called Piazza di Campidoglio. It is surrounded on
-three sides by public buildings, and in front has a
-grand stairway leading down to the street. It was in
-this very spot that Brutus made his famous speech
-after the assassination of Julius Cæsar. We crossed
-the square, went up some steps and through an archway.</p>
-
-<p>A company of little Romans were playing soldier
-there, and the small drum-major made the walls of
-the capitol resound with his rattling music. That
-reminds me to tell you that Santa Claus does not
-visit Italy; but an old woman, named Navona, comes
-instead. She may be his wife, for aught I know; in
-fact, it seems quite likely, for she has a way, just like
-his, of coming down the chimney, bringing gifts for
-the good children and switches for the naughty.
-These must have been very good little boys, for
-every one of them seemed to have a new sword or
-gun. Probably Navona has to keep the house while
-Santa Claus is away about his Christmas business,
-and that is the reason she does not reach her small
-people here until the night before Epiphany, the 6th
-of January.</p>
-
-<p>We went down a lane of poor houses, dodging the
-clothes which hung drying over our heads, and came
-to a large green gate in the high stone wall of a garden.
-We knocked, but no one answered. Presently
-a black-eyed little boy came running to us, glad to
-earn two or three sous by going to call the <i>custode</i>.
-While we wait for him to do so, I must tell you why
-we wished to go through this green door. You have
-read, either in Latin or English, the story of Tarpæia,
-the Roman maiden, who consented to show the Latin
-soldiers the way into the citadel if they would give
-her what they wore on their left arms, meaning their
-bracelets, and then the grim joke they played after
-she had done her part, by throwing upon her their
-shields, which were also “what they wore on their
-left arms.”</p>
-
-<p>It was to see the Tarpæian rock, where she led her
-country’s enemies up, and where, later, traitors were
-hurled down, that we wished to go through the gate.
-Presently the keeper came, a rosy young woman, leading
-a little girl, who was feeling very rich over a new
-dolly she was dangling by its arm.</p>
-
-<p>We were admitted to a small garden, where pretty
-pink roses were in blossom, and the oranges were
-hanging on the trees, though the icicles were fringing
-the fountain not far away. On the edge of the garden,
-along the brow of the cliff, runs a thick wall of
-brown stone; we leaned over it and looked down the
-steep rock which one assaulting party after another
-tried, in old times, to scale.</p>
-
-<p>It was on this side that the Gauls were trying to
-reach the citadel at the time the geese saved the city.
-Do you know that for a long time, annually, a dog
-was crucified on the capitol, and a goose carried in
-triumph, because, on that occasion, the dogs failed to
-give the alarm and the geese did it!</p>
-
-<p>We looked down on the roofs and into the courts
-of poor houses which have huddled close about the
-foot of the hill, but beyond them we could look down
-into the Forum, where Virginia was stabbed, where
-Horatius hung up the spoil of the Curiatii, where the
-body of Julius Cæsar was burned, where the head of
-Cicero was cruelly exposed on the very rostrum where
-had often been seen the triumph of his eloquence.
-Opposite to us stood the Palatine Hill, a mass of
-crumbling palaces; a little farther off rose the mighty
-wall of the Coliseum, where the gladiators used to
-fight, and where so many
-Christian martyrs were
-thrown to the wild
-beasts while tens of
-thousands of their fellow-men,
-more cruel
-than lions, looked on,
-for sport.</p>
-
-<p>Just at the roots of
-the Capitoline, close by,
-though out of sight,
-was the Mamertine
-Prison, where St. Paul,
-of whom the world was
-not worthy, was once
-shut up in the dismal
-darkness of the dungeon.</p>
-
-<p>As we went from the
-garden back to the Piazza
-di Campidoglio, we
-saw something unusual
-was going on in the palace on the left of the capital.
-In the door stood a guard in resplendent array of crimson
-and gold lace. Looking through the arched entrance,
-we could see in the inner court an open carriage
-with driver and footman in livery of bright scarlet.
-Something of a crowd was gathering in the corridors.
-We stopped to learn what it was all about. An Italian
-woman answered, “La Principessa Margarita!” and
-an English lady close by explained that the Princess
-Margaret, wife of the crown prince, had come to distribute
-prizes to the children of the public schools.
-Only invited guests could be present, but the people
-were waiting to see her come down. So we joined the
-people and waited also.</p>
-
-<p>It was a long time and a pretty cold one. A brass
-band in the court cheered our spirits now and then.
-The fine span of the princess looked rather excited, at
-first, by the trumpets so close to their ears, but they
-stood their ground bravely. If one of the scarlet
-footmen tightened a buckle, it raised our hopes that
-his mistress was coming; the other put a fresh cigar
-in his mouth, and they sank.</p>
-
-<div class="figright">
-<img src="images/fig183.jpg" alt="" />
-<p class="caption"><span class="smcap">The Equipage of the Bambino.</span>&mdash;Page 76.</p>
-</div>
-
-<p>Meantime the guard in the gold-laced crimson coat
-and yellow silk stockings paced up and down. At
-length there was a messenger from above; the royal
-carriage drove under the arch close to us. There was
-a rustle, and down came the princely lady, dressed in
-purple velvet, with mauve feathers in her hat, a white
-veil drawn over her face, and a large bouquet in her
-white-gloved hand&mdash;rather pretty, and very graceful.
-Before entering her carriage, she turned to shake
-hands with the ladies and gentlemen who had accompanied
-her. She was very complaisant, bowing low
-to them, and they still lower to her. Then she bowed
-graciously to the crowd right and left, and they responded
-gratefully. She smiled upon them, high and
-low, but there was a look in her face, as it passed close
-to me, as if she was tired of smiling for the public.
-She seated herself in the carriage; the lady-in-waiting
-took her place beside her, the gentleman-in-waiting
-threw over them the carriage-robe of white ermine
-lined with light blue velvet and stepped in himself.</p>
-
-<p>Then the equipage rolled off, the scarlet footmen
-getting up behind as it started. This princess is very
-good and kind, greatly beloved by the people, and, as
-there is no queen, she is the first lady in the kingdom.
-Her husband first and her little son next are heirs to
-the crown.</p>
-
-<p>This show being over, we hastened back to the
-church, fearing we had missed the Bambino in our
-pursuit of the princess. But we were in good time.
-On the side of the church opposite the tableau was a
-small, temporary platform. Little boys and girls were
-placed upon this, one after the other, to speak short
-pieces or recite verses about the Infant Christ. It
-was a kind of Sunday-school concert in Italian. The
-language is very sweet in a child’s mouth. There
-were a great many bright, black-eyed children in the
-church, and most of them seemed to have brought
-their Christmas presents along with them, as if to
-show them to the Bambino.</p>
-
-<p>There were ragged men in the crowd, and monks,
-and country-women with handkerchiefs tied over their
-heads for bonnets. One of them who stood near me
-had her first finger covered with rings up to the last
-joint. That is their great ambition in the way of
-dress.</p>
-
-<p>At length the organ ceased playing, and the notes
-of a military band were heard. Then we saw a banner
-moving slowly down one of the aisles, followed by
-a train of lighted tapers. Over the heads of the people
-we could only see the banner and the lights; they
-passed down and paused to take the Bambino. Then
-they marched slowly all around the church&mdash;people
-falling on their knees as they passed by.</p>
-
-<p>Out at the front door they went, and that sacred
-image was held high aloft, so that all the people on
-the great stairway and in the square below might get
-a sight of it, and be blessed. Then up the middle of
-the church they came, to the high altar. This was
-our chance to see them perfectly.</p>
-
-<p>First the banner, with an image of the Virgin on it,
-was borne by a young priest dressed in a long black
-robe and a white short gown trimmed with lace; next
-came a long procession of men in ordinary dress, carrying
-long and large wax candles, which they had a
-disagreeable habit or dripping as they went along.</p>
-
-<p>“Servants of great houses,” remarked a lady behind
-me.</p>
-
-<p>“They used to come themselves,” answered another.</p>
-
-<p>Then followed Franciscan monks in their brown
-copes, each with a knotted rope for a girdle, and sandals
-only on his bare feet. After these came the
-band of musicians, all little boys; and now approached,
-with measured tread, three priests in rich
-robes of white brocade, enriched with silver. The
-middle one, a tall, venerable-looking man, with hoary
-hair and solemn countenance, held erect in his hands
-the sacred dolly. As it passed, believers dropped
-upon their knees. When he reached the high altar,
-he reverently kissed its feet, and delivered it to its
-custodian to be carried to the Sacristy!</p>
-
-<div class="figcenter">
-<img src="images/fig184.jpg" alt="" />
-</div>
-
-
-<hr class="full x-ebookmaker-drop" />
-
-<div class="chapter">
-
-<div class="figcenter" id="c61">
-<img src="images/fig185.jpg" alt="" />
-</div>
-
-<h2 class="nobreak">MY MOTHER PUT IT ON.</h2>
-</div>
-
-
-
-<hr class="r5" />
-<p class="c more">BY MRS. A. D. T. WHITNEY.</p>
-<hr class="r6" />
-
-
-
-
-<p class="drop-cap">IT was old Boston&mdash;Boston forty years and more
-ago,&mdash;and it was New Year’s morning.</p>
-
-<p>We had lived in our new house in one of the lately
-laid-out, airy neighborhoods over on the West Hill
-since June. Before that, we lived in Pearl street,
-where all the great warehouses are now, and where
-the other great warehouses were burned down,&mdash;melted
-into strange, stone monuments of ruin,&mdash;in
-the terrible fire, six years ago from now. Down in
-Pearl street, in a large house with a garden to it, and
-a wonderful staircase inside that had landings with
-balustraded arches through to other landings, and
-which was a sublimity and delight to me that the
-splendid stairways in Roman palaces can scarcely
-equal now,&mdash;still lived my best and beautiful friend,
-Elizabeth Hunter. I thought in those days all Elizabeths
-were beautiful, because I knew two who had
-fair, delicious complexions, sweet, deep-cornered
-mouths, and brown hair. My hair was light and
-straight and fine; it looked thin and cold to me by
-side of theirs.</p>
-
-<p>On this New Year, I was to go and spend the day
-with Elizabeth. My father and my brother Andrew
-were to come to dinner. My mother was an invalid,
-and could not bear the cold and the fatigue. But
-she had my pretty dress all ready for me, a soft, blue
-merino&mdash;real deep-sky blue,&mdash;with trimming to the
-tucks and hem and low neck-band and sleeve-bindings
-of dark carbuncle-colored velvet ribbon in a
-raised Greek pattern. You may think it looked
-queer; but it didn’t; it was very pretty and becoming.</p>
-
-<p>Before I was to go, however, there was ever so
-much other New Year delight to keep the time from
-seeming long. Father and Andrew were going down
-to the whip-factory in Dock square, to choose for Andrew
-the longest-lashed toy-whip, with the gayest
-snapper and the handsomest handle, that he could
-pick out there. And afterward they were going to a
-great toy-shop, to buy me the wax doll I had been
-promised.</p>
-
-<p>I did not care to choose my doll, as Andrew would
-choose his whip. I had a kind of real little-mother
-feeling about that. I would rather have what came
-to me, what my father brought me. I wanted it to be
-mine from the first minute I saw it, without any
-doubt, or any chance to choose otherwise. If I had
-looked and hesitated among dozens of them, and
-picked out one, I should always have felt as if I had
-left some child behind that maybe ought to have
-been mine, and that I had not quite <i>whole</i> chosen
-any one. So I was content to stay with my mother,
-and run down from her with the quarter and half dollars
-to the watchman and the carrier and the scavenger
-and the milkman, when they came with their expectation
-of a little present. What dear old simple
-days those were, when we had a family regard for our
-milkman, our watchman, our scavenger!</p>
-
-<p>Meanwhile, I was to be dressed.</p>
-
-<p>I had just got on my blue morocco slippers, that
-looked so funny with my striped dark calico morning-frock,
-when the bell, that I thought I had done answering
-with the silver fees, rang loudly again. Marcella,
-our housemaid, called me from the foot of the
-nursery stairs.</p>
-
-<p>“It’s somebody for you, Miss Emmeline,” she said,
-and I thought she meant another man for money. I
-took the last quarter from the little wallet father had
-filled for me, and ran down. But it was the tall black
-servant from the Hunters. And he had in his hand
-a pretty paper box tied with a silk cord.</p>
-
-<p>“Mrs. Hunter’s compliments and love, miss, to
-you and to your ma; and she hopes you’ll wear something
-she has made for you just like Miss Elizabeth’s,
-to-day.”</p>
-
-<p>I took the box, made a little courtesy to him, and
-said, “Please thank Mrs. Hunter, and say I wish her
-a happy New Year, and here’s a happy New Year for
-you.” For I thought he couldn’t help seeing the
-silver quarter, and thinking it was for him; and father
-had told me to “use my judgment,” and I certainly
-wanted to give it to him the minute I saw he had
-come all the way with a present for me. Elizabeth
-and I liked Jefferson very much; he gave us macaroons
-and prunes and almonds from the pantry, and
-he swung us in the swing in the great drying-room.
-He made me a fine bow, and thanked me, and said
-he should keep my quarter for luck.</p>
-
-<p>So I ran up to my mother, and kissed her&mdash;for
-somehow whenever anything pleasant came to me I
-always kissed my mother&mdash;and we opened the box.
-It was a beautiful blue silk braid net, with a long blue
-ribbon run through to tie it round the head with.</p>
-
-<p>“O, mother!” I cried, “it’s a <i>long</i> ribbon, for flying
-ends!” I was so glad; for I had no curls like
-Elizabeth’s and I thought flying ribbons would seem
-like them a little, and I had never worn any.</p>
-
-<p>“It is very pretty,” said my mother; “but I think,
-dear, with your short hair, a short bow would look
-better.”</p>
-
-<p>She did not tell me that my face was narrow and
-my nose was long, and that I couldn’t possibly look
-like Elizabeth Hunter, even with flying ends. I know
-it now, as I have found out a good many things that
-I didn’t understand at the time.</p>
-
-<p>I was disappointed; too disappointed to say anything;
-and before I spoke, mother, who had put the
-net over my hair, and drawn the ribbon, tied a butterfly
-bow with it over my left ear, and snipped the ends
-into short dovetails with her small bright toilet scissors.</p>
-
-<p>I choked a little in my throat, and the tears came
-into my eyes.</p>
-
-<p>“Did you care so much?” asked mother tenderly,
-and kissed me again. “But it is a <i>great deal</i> prettier
-for you so; trust me, dear.”</p>
-
-<p>I did not speak then, for I couldn’t; but I tried to
-swallow the choke and the tears; mother who was always
-kind, had been so dearly kind to me that day.
-And Andrew came running up the stairs just then,
-and bounced in at the door; and there was my dear
-wax-baby in his arms, and I was a happy little mother;
-and what happy little mother, with her baby born
-on New Year’s morning cares how her cap is tied?</p>
-
-<p>The baby was dressed in a pretty white slip and a
-bib; and there was a blanket with pink scalloped
-edges, to wrap it in.</p>
-
-<p>“There were dollies a good deal older, and some
-all grown up,” said Andrew; “but father thought
-you’d want to have it a real baby, and let it grow.
-And it opens and shuts its eyes. See here! There!
-it’s gone to sleep; and now look at my whip!” He
-pulled it out from under his arm, whence it trailed
-behind him, and cracked it gloriously with its yellow
-snappers, right over my baby’s head.</p>
-
-<p>“O, And! Be careful! Give her right to me.
-Boys don’t know how to tend babies, you know.
-But you’re <i>real</i> good; and your whip is splendid!”</p>
-
-<p>“Guess I am! Brought her right straight along,
-and didn’t care a mite, and three boys hollered after
-me, ‘’Fore I’d be a girl, and carry a rag-baby!’ I
-just kept her with one hand and cracked my whip
-with the other, and looked right ahead, as if they
-wasn’t anywhere!”</p>
-
-<p>I put my arms round his neck, and hugged him
-and the baby and the whip all together; for my
-Andie always was a hero, and loved me. He brought
-me my greatest gift pleasures, and my happiest surprises.
-Father always took him into the plan, if
-Andie hadn’t already begged it for me,&mdash;whenever
-there was one. I think our parents had that notion
-about son and daughter, and what the little man and
-woman should be to each other. Mother used to set
-me to do all the little cheery, comfortable home-things
-for Andie. Andie brought me my wax doll when I
-was seven years old; he walked down to Jones’s,
-with father, the day he was seventeen, and brought
-me home my real, gold watch. I always mended
-Andie’s stockings after I was old enough,&mdash;and
-quite little girls were old enough in those days; and
-I made pan ginger-bread for his supper when he was
-coming home cold from coasting on the Common;
-and I read to him when he was sick with sore throat
-and saved money to fill his bag with white alleys
-when marble-time came round. Andie and I used to
-promise never to get married, but to keep house with
-each other when we were grown up. I have never
-got married; but Andie has been lying in the gray
-stone tomb at Mount Auburn for thirty years.</p>
-
-<p>My mother hurried me a little now; for Marcella
-was ready.</p>
-
-<p>We walked down across the Common, Marcella
-and I; she was to leave me at the door. There was
-a biting wind, with snow-needles in it; and the path
-was deep with half-trodden snow; but I was warm in
-my cloth pelisse with gray fur cape and border,&mdash;my
-quilted bonnet edged with fur, and my thick little
-mocasins with gray fur round the ankles.</p>
-
-<p>I was perfectly happy till Mrs. Hunter unfastened
-my things by the large parlor fire, and lifted off my
-bonnet carefully.</p>
-
-<p>Elizabeth, with her dimpled face, her sweet-set
-mouth, her brown curls among which the long blue
-ribbon floated,&mdash;for the net was a mere matter of ornament,
-and lay light and loose over the hair, held
-only by the ribbon band simply tied at the left temple,&mdash;was
-standing by, impatient to get me out and begin
-our day.</p>
-
-<p>“Why, where are the long ends?” she said. And
-then I immediately felt as if all there was of me was
-that one little, short-chopped, butterfly bow.</p>
-
-<p>“Mother thought&mdash;” I began, and there stopped.
-My lips trembled a little, and I blushed hot.</p>
-
-<p>Mrs. Hunter looked sorry. “Was she <i>quite</i> particular?”
-she asked, after an instant. “Because I
-have another ribbon. Just for <i>to-day</i>, perhaps, because
-you like to be like Lizzie? It would be a pity
-not to please the child,” she said to Mrs. Marchand,
-her sister, who was there. She was drawing the blue
-ribbon from her pretty round, carved worktable, and
-she put out her hand to untie my little bow.</p>
-
-<p>Then it came over me. I started back. “Please!
-No! Please not, Mrs. Hunter. Thank you&mdash;a great
-deal&mdash;” I stammered, in a hurry, and afraid I was
-dreadfully impolite,&mdash;“but <i>mother put it on</i>!”</p>
-
-<p>I wouldn’t have had that bow with the dovetailed
-ends untied, that minute, for all the world.</p>
-
-<p>A singular expression, I thought, passed between
-the faces of the two ladies. Mrs. Hunter leaned
-down from her chair, reached my hand, drew me to
-her again, and kissed me. “You are a dear little
-thing,” she said to me. “The little souls know best,”
-she said to her sister.</p>
-
-<p>“When the little souls are&mdash;” but Mrs. Marchand
-did not say what.</p>
-
-<p>I wondered why Mrs. Hunter, while she praised
-me,&mdash;but it was not praise either; it was better than
-that,&mdash;should have looked as if she pitied me so. I
-couldn’t think it was for the sake of the ribbon. No,
-indeed: I know now what it was.</p>
-
-<p>We had a beautiful time. Of course I had brought
-my baby, and I secretly thought it was a great deal
-cunninger and prettier than Elizabeth’s, that she had
-had ever since her last birthday, and that really looked
-quite old and common to me now, though she had
-kept it so nice, and I had admired it so.</p>
-
-<p>Father and Andrew came to dinner; and after dinner
-we had forfeits, and Hunt the Ring, and Magical
-Music, and Still Palm. There were three other children
-who came to spend the afternoon.</p>
-
-<p>I was very happy. There was a hidden corner in my
-heart that kept warming up every now and then, as if
-mother and I had a secret together, and we were
-whispering it to each other across the wide, cold city.
-Elizabeth’s pretty hair and long blue ribbons flew this
-way and that in the merry play and running; and I
-noticed them just
-as I always had,
-and I knew that
-there was nothing
-pretty about my
-short, plain, light-colored
-hair, and I
-<i>did</i> think that flying
-ends would
-have been a comfort
-if I could
-have had them in
-the first place; but
-there was something
-beyond comfort
-in the loyalty
-of wearing that
-butterfly bow
-which nobody
-need touch or try
-to change for me,
-since&mdash;because
-she thought it best
-for me to wear it so&mdash;my mother had put it on!</p>
-
-<div class="figright">
-<img src="images/fig186.jpg" alt="" />
-<p class="caption">I HAD BROUGHT MY BABY.</p>
-</div>
-
-<p>I ran straight up to her dressing-room the minute
-we got home. She sat there in her white flannel
-wrapper before the fire. I threw my arms around her
-and laid my head down on her lap.</p>
-
-<p>“Now untie the little bow,” I said: and she asked:
-“Did my little girl wear it all the day for my sake?”</p>
-
-<p>She understood. We <i>had</i> been whispering to each
-other’s thought across all the cold, wide city.</p>
-
-<p>“Mother,” I asked her, after I said my prayers,
-and before I said goodnight, “why did I have such
-a Rocky-Mountain kind of a face? Why couldn’t God
-have given me a pretty, <i>flat</i> face? Can you tell?”</p>
-
-<p>“God didn’t see best to make you handsome, dear;
-but He will make you beautiful, if you will let Him,
-his own way. And I don’t think,” she added, more
-lightly, and laughing a sweet laugh, “that my Emmie’s
-face <i>could</i> be a <i>flat</i> one! It wouldn’t suit her at
-all; and I love this a great deal better!”</p>
-
-<hr class="tb" />
-
-<p>When I was seventeen years old, my mother had
-been dead eight years. I had a stepmother.</p>
-
-<p>That was horrible, you think? Wait till you hear.</p>
-
-<p>When my father&mdash;a graver, silenter, but not less
-kind and gentle man&mdash;brought home at last this
-lady, as truly, I
-think, for our
-sakes as his own,&mdash;he
-called us to
-them both as they
-sat together on
-the long velvet
-sofa in the library.
-I remember the
-moment, and the
-look of everything
-as if it were just
-now. It was a
-September midday;
-they had
-been married in
-church, and we
-had all come
-straight home;
-there was no
-company,&mdash;“this
-day was for themselves
-and the
-children,”&mdash;and dinner was going on, almost just
-as usual, in the dining room beyond.</p>
-
-<p>The lady, whom we had seen but few times,&mdash;her
-home had been at a distance in the country,&mdash;was
-dressed in a plain violet silk; and now her bonnet
-was off, her dark hair looked homelike and simple,
-just parted away over her low, pleasant forehead and
-twisted richly behind; and her face,&mdash;I never forget
-that about it,&mdash;was watching the door when we came
-in.</p>
-
-<p>My father said to me, being the girl and the oldest,&mdash;“Emmeline,
-I hope you will be the happier for this
-day, and I believe you will, from this day forward as
-long as you and my wife shall live.” He fell, unpremeditatedly,
-into the words of the Solemn Service
-that had been spoken over them; it was as if he
-had married us two, in our new relation, to each
-other.</p>
-
-<p>He said to Andrew&mdash;“My boy knows what men
-owe to women; he and I must do our best and manliest
-for these two. We four are a family now.”</p>
-
-<p>The new wife stretched out a hand to each of us.
-She slipped her arm round me, and drew me to her
-side, while she held Andrew’s hand upon her knee.
-The face that looked into mine was very wistful and
-kind; it almost seemed to beseech something of me.
-It asked leave to be loving.</p>
-
-<p>We children did not know what to say. I felt uneasy
-not to speak at all. I believe I smiled a little,
-shyly. Then I asked&mdash;</p>
-
-<p>“What shall I call you, please?”</p>
-
-<p>“What shall they call you, Lucy?” asked my father.</p>
-
-<p>“Call me ‘step-mamma,’” was the answer; and I
-think he was utterly surprised.</p>
-
-<p>“I will not take their mother’s name away,” she
-said. “I will not be <i>instead</i> of her. I will be called
-just what I want to be; a step, a link, between her
-and them. I will try and do <i>for</i> her what she would
-have done if she had stayed.”</p>
-
-<p>“Then I think I’ll call you ‘For-mamma,’” said
-straight-spoken Andrew. “I think that will do very
-well.”</p>
-
-<p>We all laughed; and it relieved the feeling.
-“Thank you, Andrew,” said our step-mamma. “That
-is a great help at the very beginning. I believe we
-shall understand each other.”</p>
-
-<p>For my part I only kissed her. By the way she
-kissed me back, I knew it was her first act “for” my
-mother.</p>
-
-<p>So we began to love her, and we called her “step-mamma.”
-People thought it very odd, and we never
-explained it to them. We let our relation explain itself.
-But <i>among</i> ourselves, the familiar, privileged,
-lovely name was “For-mamma.” That we kept
-this sign through so many years,&mdash;the years of our
-troublesome, probative childhood,&mdash;tells more than
-any story of the years could tell.</p>
-
-<p>I only wanted to say a little bit of what she was to
-me at seventeen; and how my mother’s very words
-came again to me through her, as by an accepted mediation.</p>
-
-<p>I went with her to a large party; my very first large
-grown-up party.</p>
-
-<p>My old friend, Elizabeth Hunter, was a bride this
-winter. I had been bridesmaid at her wedding; that
-was the beginning of my coming out, earlier than
-I should otherwise have done.</p>
-
-<p>What a plain little bridesmaid I had been, to what
-an exquisite vision of a bride! I remember thinking
-as we, the bridal party, walked through the long
-rooms, when all was gay, and ceremony was broken
-through at supper-time&mdash;when the rooms rustled
-with the turning of the groups to look after her and
-the murmur went along about her beauty&mdash;“What
-difference ought it to make, that <i>she</i> is the beauty,
-and that I can never be,&mdash;so long as the beauty <i>is</i>
-and we all feel it?” Yet the strange difference was
-there, and the cross of my beauty-loving nature was
-that I in my own being and movement, could never
-hold and represent it.</p>
-
-<p>I looked at myself when I had dressed for this
-large party. The lovely blue silk&mdash;the delicate lace&mdash;the
-white roses&mdash;they almost achieved prettiness
-enough of themselves; and I suppose I looked as
-nice as I could; but there were still the too prominent
-brows, the nose too big for the eyes, the lips too
-easily parted over the teeth fine and white, but contributing
-to the excess of profile, or middle-face, that
-had made me call it Rocky-Mountain outline when I
-was a child.</p>
-
-<p>I went down to my step-mamma’s room. She, in her
-ruby-colored satin, was fairer at thirty-eight than I at
-seventeen. I sat watching her as she put pearl earrings
-into her ears.</p>
-
-<p>“For-mamma,” I said, “I don’t believe I shall ever
-care much for parties. And it will be for a very
-mean and selfish reason, too.&mdash;I think it is only pretty
-people who can enjoy them much.”</p>
-
-<p>She laid down the second pearl hoop on the table,
-and came to me.</p>
-
-<p>“Emmie,” she said, “I know it is a hard thing for
-a woman who loves all lovely things, not to be very
-beautiful herself. The dear Lord has not made you
-very beautiful, in mere features. But can’t you wear
-a plain face awhile, because He has given it to you to
-wear, and trust to Him to make it lovely in his way
-and season?”</p>
-
-<p>My step-mamma hardly ever said anything so direct
-as this to me, about religion. She only lived her
-religion in a pleasant, comfortable, unassuming way,
-and kept a light shining by which I saw&mdash;without
-her flashing it upon me like a dark-lantern&mdash;into
-any little selfish or God-forgetful course of my own
-life. Now, these words came to me&mdash;across ten
-years&mdash;the very words said to me in that same room,
-at that same hour of night.... Why&mdash;it was
-the very night! We were going to a New Year’s
-party.</p>
-
-<p>A great heart-beat came up in my throat, and the
-tears pressed up together into face and eyes, while I
-felt the kindling of my own look, and saw what it
-must be by the answering color and the light in hers.</p>
-
-<p>I put my hands out and reached them round her
-waist as she stood close to me in her beautiful glowing
-dress, under which a more beautiful heart was
-glowing brighter. “I cannot tell you two apart,
-Mamma and For-mamma!” I said.</p>
-
-<p>We went together to the party. For-mamma had
-to put her one pearl hoop in her pocket after she got
-there, for she had forgotten the other on her dressing
-table. And what that party was to me I wonder if
-any grand, lovely, tender church-service ever was to
-anybody, more or better!</p>
-
-<p>I had a quiet time, compared to some girls who
-were always rushed after, and rushing through the
-gay dances. I was politely asked, and I did dance;
-but not every time; that was as it always was with
-me. But all the beauty and all the gladness in the
-whole room was mine; for it was all “the dear
-Lord’s,” and He was giving it as He would. “Passing
-it round,” I couldn’t help thinking&mdash;was it irreverent,
-I wonder&mdash;as the sweet, rich confections were
-passed round, that were meant, a share in turn, for
-all. My turn would come. And for my plain, still,
-Rocky-Mountain face that I was wearing now,&mdash;there
-was a secret between me and some Heart that
-thought of me across whatever cold and emptiness of
-wintry way might seem to lie between, like that which
-had been when in my childish disappointment I
-wore the simple bit of ribbon that “my mother had
-put on.”</p>
-
-<hr class="tb" />
-
-<p>There came a time when I had to give up other
-beauty. To recognise that it was not for me,&mdash;yet.
-Not in all this long, waiting world, as other people
-have it. That was harder; yet it was all one. It
-seemed to me that some people were given at their
-birth a kind of ticket that opened to them all paradises;
-and that others were thrust forth, unaccredited,
-into a life whose most beautiful doors would be
-shut, one after another, in their faces.</p>
-
-<div class="figright">
-<img src="images/fig187.jpg" alt="" />
-<p class="caption">THE GROWN-UP EMMELINE.</p>
-</div>
-
-<p>I had to content myself with a fate like my face;
-a plain pleasantness without great, wonderful delight.
-A Rocky-Mountain aspect of living, that seemed
-hard and rough until I got into the heart of it, and
-let it shut out the fair champaigns, and then it showed
-me its own depth, and height, and glory.</p>
-
-<p>There was one long, heavy time when For-mamma
-and I were separated for years. For-mamma was
-a widow, now; we four that had been a family together
-were we two here and they two there; they
-<i>three</i>, in the other home. And my grandmother, in
-her feeble, querulous, uncomfortable old age, had nobody
-to come and live with her and “see her
-through,” as she said. At nearly the same time, For-mamma’s
-sister died, and there were five little children
-to be cared for. I thought she would never get
-away from that duty, though mine might see an end.
-But a new wife came there after a good while, as
-For-mamma&mdash;I <i>hope</i> it was as she came&mdash;had come
-to us; and then grandmother died, and nobody could
-say otherwise than that it was a release. I did not
-say so; I hate to hear people say that; it is so apt to
-mean a release for those who outlive. There are
-long dyings, and brief ones; when it is over, we go
-back to the well time to measure our loss. Grandmother’s
-dying began almost twenty years before,
-when her nerves gave out, and her comfort in living
-was over, and people began to lose patience with her.
-I looked back to that time, and thought what a bright
-handsome woman, fond of her own way but with
-such a fine capable way, I could recollect her.</p>
-
-<p>I had tried to do my duty; it was a piece of life
-that the same Love had put on me that I had learned&mdash;a
-little&mdash;to believe in as a mother’s; and now it
-was over&mdash;“through,” and For-mamma and I came
-together again, so gladly!</p>
-
-<p>I suppose everybody thinks we are very fortunate
-people, and perfectly happy; for we have plenty of
-money, and can do all the pleasant things that can
-be done with money, for ourselves and for others. I
-suppose many persons think that my five years with
-Grandmother Cumberland were paid for in the fifty
-thousand dollars that she left me. I know that they
-were paid for as they went along, and as I found myself
-able and cheerful to live them.</p>
-
-<p>For-mamma and I <i>are</i> happy; I do not think we
-shall ever leave each other now so long as we both
-may live. I often think how my father joined us together
-with those words.</p>
-
-<p>We have a lovely and dear home, and friends to fill
-it when we want them; we have happy errands to
-many who get some happiness through our hands;
-we have travelled together, and seen glorious and
-wonderful things; we read and think, we sing and
-sew, we laugh and talk and are silent together; we
-do not let each other miss or want. But, for all this
-we have each&mdash;and both together&mdash;our troubles to
-bear, that would not have been worthy to be called
-troubles if they had stirred in us so slightly as to have
-been forgotten long ago.</p>
-
-<p>We only bear them as things grown tender to us
-by their very pain and pressure, because of Some
-One who will say to us when we go home to
-Him:</p>
-
-<p>“<i>Did my dear child wear it all the day for My
-Sake?</i>”</p>
-
-<hr class="tb" />
-
-
-<p class="c gesperrt">AFTERWARDS.</p>
-
-<div class="figcenter">
-<img src="images/fig188.jpg" alt="" />
-</div>
-
-
-
-<div class="poetry-container">
-<div class="poetry">
-  <div class="stanza">
-    <div class="verse indent0"><span class="smcap">Once</span>, down in the night, but a blinded thing:&mdash;</div>
-    <div class="verse indent0">Now, the great gold light and the beautiful wing!</div>
-  </div>
-</div>
-</div>
-
-<hr class="full x-ebookmaker-drop" />
-
-<div class="chapter">
-
-<div class="figcenter" id="c62">
-<img src="images/fig189.jpg" alt="" />
-</div>
-
-<h2 class="nobreak">A CHILD IN FLORENCE.</h2>
-</div>
-
-
-
-<hr class="r5" />
-<p class="c more">BY K. R. L.</p>
-<hr class="r6" />
-
-<p class="c sans more">PART I.</p>
-
-
-
-
-<p class="drop-cap">WE lived in that same Casa Guidi from whose
-windows Elizabeth Barrett Browning’s poet-eyes
-saw what she afterward put into glowing verse.
-Casa Guidi is a great pile of graystone, a pile of
-many windows which give upon the Via Maggio and a
-little piazza, as the squares in Florence are called.
-Consequently it is lighter and brighter than are many
-of the houses in Florence, where the streets are narrow
-and the houses lofty.</p>
-
-<p>According to almost universal custom, Casa Guidi
-was divided into half a dozen different apartments,
-occupied by as many families. Ours was on the
-second floor, on the side of the house overlooking
-the piazza on which stood the church of San Felice.
-The pleasantest room in our apartment, as I thought,
-was a room in which I passed many hours of an ailing
-childhood; a room which I christened “The
-Gallery,” because it was long and narrow, and was
-hung with many cheerful pictures. It opened into a
-little boudoir at one end, and into the <i>salon</i> at the
-other. The walls of gallery and boudoir were frescoed
-gayly with fruits, and flowers, and birds.</p>
-
-<p>Here the sun streamed in all through the long,
-mild, Florentine winters; here I would lie on my
-couch, and count the roses on the walls, and the birds,
-and the apricots, and listen to the cries in the streets;
-and, if a procession went by, hurry to the window and
-watch it pass, and stay at the window until I was
-tired, when I would totter back to my couch, and my
-day-dreams, and my drawing, and my verse-making,
-and my attempts at studying.</p>
-
-<p>I was fired with artist-ambitions at the age of ten;
-and what wonder, surrounded as I was by artists living
-and dead, and by their immortal works. It seemed
-to me then that one <i>must</i> put all one’s impressions of
-sight and form into shape. But I did not develop
-well. Noses proved a stumbling-block, which I never
-overcame, to my attaining to eminence in figure-sketching.</p>
-
-<p>The picture that I admired most in those days was
-one of Judith holding up the gory head of Holofernes,
-in the Pitti Gallery of Paintings. I was seized with
-a longing to copy it, on my return from my first
-visit to the Gallery. I seated myself, one evening, before
-a sheet of drawing-paper, and I tried and tried;
-but the nose of Holofernes was too much for me. All
-that I could accomplish was something that resembled
-an enlarged interrogation mark, and recalled
-Chinese Art, as illustrated on fans. I was disappointed,
-disgusted&mdash;but, above all, surprised: it was
-my first intimation that “to do” is not “as easy as
-’tis to know what ’twere good to do.”</p>
-
-<p>In the midst of my futile efforts, a broad-shouldered,
-bearded man was announced, who, having shaken
-hands with the grown-ups, came and seated himself
-beside the little girl, and her paint-box and pencils
-and care-worn face.</p>
-
-<p>“O, Mr. Hart,” I cried, “do make this nose for
-me!”</p>
-
-<p>Whereupon he made it, giving me many valuable
-suggestions, meanwhile, as to the effect produced by
-judicious shading. Still, I was discouraged. It was
-borne in upon me that this was not <i>my</i> branch
-of art.</p>
-
-<div class="figleft">
-<img src="images/fig190.jpg" alt="" />
-<p class="caption">“<span class="smcap">Posing.</span>”</p>
-</div>
-
-<p>“Mr. Hart,” I said, “I think I would like to make
-noses <i>your</i> way.”</p>
-
-<p>“Would you? Then you shall. Come to my studio
-to-morrow, and you shall have some clay and a board,
-and try what you can do.”</p>
-
-<p>So the next day I insisted upon availing myself of
-this invitation. Mr. Hart was then elaborating his
-machine for taking portraits in marble, in his studio
-in the upper part of the city. He had always several
-busts on hand, excellent likenesses. His workmen
-would be employed in cutting out the marble, while he
-molded his original thought out of the plastic clay.
-There has always been a fascination to me in statuary.
-Mr. Ruskin tells us that form appealed to the
-old Greeks more forcibly than color. That was in
-the youth of the race; possibly, the first stage of art-development
-is an appreciation of form; in my case,
-I have not passed into the maturer stage yet. The
-rounded proportions, curves, and reality of a statue
-appeal to me as no painting ever did.</p>
-
-<p>Nevertheless, I made no greater progress in
-molding than in sketching. I made my hands
-very sticky; I used up several pounds of clay;
-then I relinquished my hopes of becoming a
-sculptor. I found it more to my taste to follow
-Mr. Hart around the rooms, to chatter
-with the workmen, to ask innumerable questions
-about the “Invention.”</p>
-
-<p>It has been suggested that it was to this Invention
-of Mr. Hart’s that Mrs. Browning referred
-when she wrote of&mdash;</p>
-
-
-<div class="poetry-container">
-<div class="poetry">
-  <div class="stanza">
-    <div class="verse indent0">“Just a shadow on a wall,”</div>
-  </div>
-</div>
-</div>
-
-
-<p>from which could be taken&mdash;</p>
-
-
-<div class="poetry-container">
-<div class="poetry">
-  <div class="stanza">
-    <div class="verse indent9">“The measure of a man,</div>
-    <div class="verse indent0">Which is the measure of an angel, saith</div>
-    <div class="verse indent0">The apostle.”</div>
-  </div>
-</div>
-</div>
-
-
-<p>Mr. Hart wore the apron and the cap that
-sculptors affect, as a protection from the fine,
-white dust that the marble sheds; generally,
-too, an ancient dressing-gown. Costumes in
-Bohemia, the native land of artists, are apt
-to be unconventional.</p>
-
-<p>It was a most wondrous thing to me to watch
-the brown clay take shapes and beauty under
-the sculptor’s touch. I can still see him fashioning a
-wreath of grape-leaves around a Bacchante’s head; the
-leaves would grow beneath his hand, in all the details
-of tendrils, stems, veinings. It seemed to me he must
-be so happy, to live in this world of his own creating.
-I hope that he was happy, the kindly man; he had
-the patience and the enthusiasm of the genuine artist,&mdash;a
-patience that had enabled him to surmount serious
-obstacles before he reached his present position.
-Like Powers and Rheinhart, he began life as a stone-cutter.
-I wonder what dreams of beauty those three
-men saw imprisoned in the unhewn stone, to which
-they longed to give shape, before Fate smiled on
-them, and put them in the way of doing the best that
-in them lay!</p>
-
-<div class="figcenter">
-<a href="images/fig191big.jpg">
-<img src="images/fig191.jpg" alt="" />
-</a>
-<p class="caption"><span class="smcap">An Italian Garden.</span></p>
-</div>
-
-<p>In spite of the fact that neither Painting nor Sculpture
-proved propitious, a great reverence and love of
-Art was born in me at this time. Possibly a love and
-reverence all the more intense, because Art became
-to me, individually, an unattainable thing. I remember
-passing many hours, at this period, in what would
-certainly have been durance vile, had I not been fired
-with a lofty ambition. Mr. Edwin White was sketching
-in a picture which called for two figures&mdash;an old
-man and a child. The old man was easily obtained,
-a beautiful professional model of advanced years;
-but the child was not so readily found. I was filled
-with secret joy when it was suggested to me that I
-should be the required model. I was enchanted when
-the permission was given me to perform this important
-service. This was before the time of the long
-illness to which I referred in the beginning of this
-paper. The spending every morning for a week or so
-in Mr. White’s studio implied the being excused
-from French verbs and Italian translations. What a
-happy life, I thought, to be a model! I envied the
-beautiful old patriarch with whom I was associated in
-this picture. Kneeling beside him, as I was instructed
-to do, I thought what bliss it would be to be associated
-with him always, and to go about with him from
-studio to studio, posing for pictures.</p>
-
-<p>There must be an inspiration for artists in the
-very air of Florence. The beautiful city is filled with
-memorials of the past, painted and carved by the
-masters passed away. I suppose that artists are
-constantly aroused to the wish to do great things by
-the sight of what these others have accomplished.
-Then, too, the history of the past, the religion of
-the past, are such realities in Florence. The artist
-feels called upon to interpret them, not as dead fancies,
-but as facts. The mythology of the Greeks
-and Romans meets one at every turn. I, for one,
-was as intimately acquainted with the family history of
-Venus, of Ceres, of Pallas, of Persephone, as with that
-of Queen Elizabeth, of Catherine de’ Medici, of Henrietta
-Maria. Nay, I was more intimate with the delightful
-elder set.</p>
-
-<p>The heathen gods reigned sylvanly in the Boboli
-Gardens, and it was there that I formed a most intimate
-personal acquaintance with them. The Boboli
-Gardens are the gardens of the Pitti Palace, an immense,
-unlovely pile, the memorial of the ambition
-of the Marquis Pitti, who reared it. He had vowed
-that he would build a palace large enough to hold in
-its court-yard the palace of his hated rival, the Marquis
-Strozzi. He was as good as his word; but in carrying
-out his designs he ruined his fortune. The
-vast palace, when completed, passed out of his hands
-into those of the Medici, then the Dukes of Florence.
-Afterwards, it became the residence of the foreign
-rulers of Florence. When I remember the city, Austrian
-soldiers guarded the great gateway of the Pitti,
-and marched up and down the court-yards; and the
-showy white uniforms of Austrian officers were conspicuous
-in the antechambers and guard-rooms.</p>
-
-<p>But behind the great palace, the fair Boboli Gardens
-spread away. There was a statue of Ceres
-crowning a terrace, up to which climbed other terraces&mdash;an
-amphitheatre of terraces, in truth, from a fish-pond
-in the centre&mdash;which commanded the city
-through which the Arno flowed. Many a sunny day
-have we children&mdash;my sisters and I&mdash;sat at the base
-of this statue and gossiped about Ceres,&mdash;beautiful
-Mother Nature, and her daughter, who was stolen
-from her by the Dark King. Further down, on a
-lower slope, was a statue of Pallas, with her calm,
-resolute face, her helmet, her spear, her owl. I remember
-that Millie, and Eva, and I, were especially
-fond of this Pallas. I used to wonder why it was
-that men should ever have been votaries of Venus
-rather than of her. I have ceased to wonder at this,
-since then; but in those days I especially criticised
-a statue of Venus, after the well-known Venus
-of Canova, which impressed me as insipid. This
-statue stood hard by the severe majesty of Pallas,
-white against a background of oleanders and laurestines.</p>
-
-<p>Then there was a second fish-pond, in the center
-of which was an orange-island, about which tritons
-and mermen and mermaids were disposed. I can
-see their good-humored, gay&mdash;nay, some of them were
-even <i>leering</i>&mdash;faces still. Soulless creatures these,
-we were well aware, and so were sorry for them.
-The immortal gods, of course, we credited with souls;
-but these&mdash;with the wood-nymphs, and bacchantes,
-and satyrs, that we were apt to come upon all through
-the garden,&mdash;these we classed as only on a level a
-trifle higher than that of the trees, and brooks, into
-which some of them had been transformed in the
-course of the vicissitudes of their careers.</p>
-
-<p>Perhaps it is because the spirit of the old religion
-so took possession of me in that Italian garden, that
-to this day the woods, and the dells, and the rocks,
-seem to me to be the embodied forms of living creatures.
-A Daphne waves her arms from the laurel
-tree; a Clytie forever turns to her sun-lover, in the
-sunflower.</p>
-
-<div class="figcenter">
-<img src="images/fig192.jpg" alt="" />
-</div>
-
-
-<hr class="full x-ebookmaker-drop" />
-
-<div class="chapter">
-
-
-<h2 class="nobreak" id="c63">A CHILD IN FLORENCE</h2>
-</div>
-
-<hr class="r5" />
-<p class="c more">BY K. R. L.</p>
-<hr class="r6" />
-
-<p class="c sans more">PART II.</p>
-
-
-
-
-<p class="drop-cap">THE two public picture galleries of Florence&mdash;the
-Pitti and the Uffizi&mdash;are on either side of
-the Arno. They are connected by a covered way,
-which runs along over the roofs of houses, and crosses
-the jewelers’ bridge, so called because upon it are
-built the shops of all the jewelers in town,&mdash;or so it
-would seem at first sight. At all events, here are
-nothing but jewelers’ shops; small shops, such as I
-imagine the shops of the middle ages to have been.
-But in the narrow windows, and in the unostentatious
-show-cases, are displayed most exquisite workmanship
-in Florentine mosaic, in turquoise, in malakite, exquisite
-as to the quality of the mosaic and the character
-of the designs in which the earrings, brooches,
-bracelets, were made up. As a rule, however, the gold-work
-was inferior, and the settings were very apt to
-come apart, and the pins to break and bend, after a
-very short wear.</p>
-
-<p>Sauntering across this bridge, one passes, on his
-way to the Uffizi, various shops in narrow streets,
-where the silks of Florentine manufacture are displayed.
-Such pretty silks, dear girls, and so cheap!
-For a mere song you may go dressed like the butterflies,
-in Florence, clad in bright, sheeny raiment, spun
-by native worms out of native mulberry leaves.
-Equally cheap are the cameos, and the coral, that are
-brought here from neighboring Naples, and the turquoises,
-imported directly from the Eastern market,
-and the mosaics, inlaid of precious stones in Florence
-herself.</p>
-
-<p>So we come out upon the Piazza, or Square, of the
-Uffizi. The Uffizi Palace itself is of irregular form,
-and inclosed by <i>loggiae</i>, or covered colonnades. In
-front of the palace stands the David of Michael
-Angelo, in its strong beauty. Michael Angelo said of
-this that “the only test for a statue is the light of a
-public square.” To this test the David has been
-subjected for over three hundred years, and still, in
-the searching light of day, stand revealed the courage
-and the faith and the strength of the young man who
-went forth to do battle with the giant, “In the name
-of the Lord of Hosts, the God of the armies of
-Israel.” And who shall say to how many of us
-Michael Angelo does not preach, across the centuries,
-a sermon in stone, as we stand before his David?&mdash;as
-we recall what Giants of Doubt, of Passion, of
-Pride, we, too, are called upon to battle with in our
-day?</p>
-
-<p>In a square portico, or <i>loggia</i>, giving upon the
-Piazza, is a statue of Perseus, another slayer of monsters,
-or, rather, a slayer of monsters in another
-realm. It was this Perseus to whom Pallas gave a
-mirror-shield of burnished brass, whom Mercury armed
-with an adamantine scythe, giving him also wings on
-his feet. It was this Perseus who slew the Gorgon
-Princess Medusa. In the statue, the fatal head of
-Medusa, with its stony stare, is held aloft by the warrior,
-who is trampling upon the headless trunk. This
-head had, in death as in life, the power of turning
-many men to stone, and was thus made use of by
-Perseus against other enemies of his. The subject
-of the stony-eyed Gorgon possessed, apparently, a
-curious fascination for artists. There is a famous
-head painted on wood by Leonardo da Vinci, besides
-this statue by Benvenuto Cellini, in the Uffizi.</p>
-
-<p>How, as a child, I used to puzzle over the strange
-fable in both statue and picture! But, since then,
-I have had experience of Gorgon natures in real life;
-natures that chilled and repressed, stupefied all with
-whom they came in contact; and I wonder less at the
-fable, and I pass the word on to you, that you may
-know, when unsympathetic surroundings chill your
-heart and blunt your feelings, and subdue your better
-self, that you are being haunted by Da Vinci’s very
-Medusa, by Gellini’s very Medusa, snaky locks, fixed
-eyes, impassive deadness.</p>
-
-<div class="figcenter">
-<a href="images/fig193big.jpg">
-<img src="images/fig193.jpg" alt="" />
-</a>
-<p class="caption"><span class="smcap">Michael Angelo in his Studio.</span></p>
-</div>
-
-<p>Into the great Uffizi Palace: up the wide marble
-stairway, into the long gallery that opens into the immense
-suite of rooms hung with pictures; the gallery
-hung with pictures, too, and set with statues.</p>
-
-<p>How I wish I could make you see with my eyes!
-How I wish I could be to you something more than a
-mere traveler, telling what <i>I</i> have seen! That long
-corridor, windows on one side, statues and pictures on
-the other, always seems to me like a nursery for love
-of art. At the far end are the quaint pictures of
-Giotto and Cimabue. Then the reverent, religious
-paintings of Fra Angelico. Oh, those sweet-faced,
-golden-haired angels! Oh, the glimpse into the land
-seen by faith, inhabited by shining ones! Oh, the
-radiance of those pictures! The gold back-grounds,
-the bright faces, the happy effect of them! The artists
-<i>believed</i> them with all their souls, as Ruskin has
-said; so they painted pictures which recall the refrain
-of Bernard de Cluny’s Rhyme of the Celestial Country.
-Presently pictures by Perugino, Raphael’s master, and&mdash;quite
-at the other end of the gallery&mdash;the portrait
-of Raphael, painted by himself. This picture is on
-an easel, and stands apart. Are you familiar with
-Raphael’s beautiful, calm, <i>young</i> face? It is a face
-which has passed into a proverb for beauty and
-serenity. A velvet cap is pushed off the pure brow;
-the hair is long and waving; the eyes are large and
-dark and abstracted. I always stood before this picture
-as before a shrine.</p>
-
-<p>All the way down the gallery are statues and busts.
-There are the Roman emperors, far more familiar to me
-through their counterfeit presentments than through
-the pages of history. Augustus, Diocletian, Trajan:
-to us girls they were studies in hair-dressing, if in
-nothing else. Some of them with flowing locks, some
-with close, short curls, some with hair parted in the
-middle and laid in long, smooth curls, like a woman.
-Of such was Heliogabulus, and of such was Vitellius.</p>
-
-<p>One morning&mdash;soon after we came to Florence&mdash;we
-started off up on a quest&mdash;through the Uffizi&mdash;Millie,
-Eva and I, and our elders. The object of
-our quest was no less a goddess than she called of
-the Medici.</p>
-
-<p>I remember that we wandered down the long gallery
-I have described, and through room after room. It
-was the fancy of our mamma, and the uncle who was
-taking care of us all, to find their way about for themselves.
-For instance: if we had been told that a
-certain picture, by a certain master, was to be found
-in a certain palace, we roamed in and out around the
-other pictures until <i>the</i> picture <i>revealed itself</i> to us. It
-was surprising how seldom we were deceived in this
-method of ours. We would pass by dozens of pictures
-by inferior artists, completely unmoved; then,
-suddenly, a thrilling vision of beauty would glow upon
-us, and we would acknowledge ourselves to be in a
-royal presence-chamber.</p>
-
-<div class="figright">
-<img src="images/fig194.jpg" alt="" />
-</div>
-
-<p>Such a presence-chamber is the Tribune in the
-Uffizi palace. We came upon many marble Venuses
-before we arrived in this Tribune, a large, octagon
-room, with a domed ceiling, blue, flecked with gold
-stars; but we passed them all by&mdash;until finally we
-entered the reverent stillness which is kept about the
-Venus of Venuses. We recognized her at once.
-There she stood, in that silent room, the light subdued
-to a judicious mellowness&mdash;beautiful with the fresh,
-smiling beauty of perpetual youth; beautiful with the
-same beauty that gladdened the heart of the Greek
-artist who carved her, hundreds of years ago; so
-many hundreds of years that the marble has, in consequence,
-the rich cream-color of old ivory.</p>
-
-<p>In this same Tribune hangs the portrait of a beautiful
-young woman, called the Fornarina. Of her only
-this is known, that she was the beloved of Raphael,
-and that she was the daughter of a baker in Rome.
-Fornarina means little bakeress, or, perhaps <i>we</i>
-should say, baker-girl. But <i>this</i> Fornarina might be
-a princess. An “ox-eyed Juno” princess, dark and
-glowing, with a serene composure about her that one
-remembers as her most striking characteristic.</p>
-
-<p>Raphael’s lady-love. Millie and I knew more
-about her than was ever written in books. Not reliable
-gossip&mdash;gossip of our own invention, but gossip
-that delighted our hearts.</p>
-
-<p>Other pictures by Raphael hang here, too. How
-distinctly I recall them. How vivid are all the works
-of this great painter! The critics say that one who
-excelled in so many things, excelled also in <i>expression</i>.
-Yes. It is this which gives to his pictures the distinctness
-of photographs from life. They are dramatic.
-They take you at once into the spirit of the
-scene represented. They are full of soul, and herein
-lies the great difference between Raphael’s works and
-those of other schools, the Venetian, for instance.
-The painters of Venice aimed at effects of color;
-Raphael used color only in order to express a loftier
-thought.</p>
-
-<p>Are you tired of the Uffizi? Come with me, for a
-few minutes, before we go, into the Hall of Niobe.
-Words fail me to relate with what mingled emotions
-of sympathy, distress and delight we children used to
-haunt this hall, and examine each sculptured form in
-turn. The story goes that Niobe incurred the displeasure
-of Diana and Apollo, who wreaked their
-vengeance upon the mother by killing her fourteen
-children. At the head of the hall stands Niobe, convulsed
-with grief, vainly imploring the angry brother
-and sister to show compassion, and at the same time
-protecting the youngest child, who is clinging to her.
-But we feel that both intercession and protection will
-be in vain. On the other side of the hall are her sons
-and daughters. Some already pierced with arrows,
-stiff in death; some in the attitude of flight, some
-staggering to the ground. It is an easy matter for the
-imagination to picture the supreme moment when, bereft
-of all her children, the mother’s heart breaks, and
-she is turned to stone. The legend relates that that
-stone wept tears. Nor was it a difficult matter for
-me to take this on faith. What is more, many is the
-time I have planted myself before the very marble
-Niobe in the Uffizi, firmly expecting to see the tears
-flow down her cheeks.</p>
-
-<div class="figright">
-<img src="images/fig195.jpg" alt="" />
-<p class="caption"><span class="smcap">La Fornarina of the Uffizi, at Florence.</span></p>
-</div>
-
-<p>So we come out upon the streets of Florence again.
-Fair Florence, the narrow Arno dividing her, the purple
-Appennines shutting her in the Arno’s fertile
-valley. Flower-women stop us on the streets, and
-offer us flowers. Flower-women who are not as pretty
-as they are wont to be at fancy-dress parties; they
-are apt to be heavy and middle-aged, in fact, one of
-them, the handsomest of the band, has a scar on her
-face, and a tinge of romance attached to her name.
-It is whispered about that her lover’s dagger inflicted
-the scar, in a fit of jealousy. Once I myself saw a
-look flash into her eyes, when something was said to
-offend her by a passer-by on the street, which suggested
-the idea that she might have used her dagger
-in return. It
-was the look of
-a tiger aroused.
-And after that
-I never quite
-lost sight of the
-smothered fire
-in those black
-eyes of hers.</p>
-
-<p>I used to
-wonder why I
-saw so few
-pretty faces
-in Florence.
-Moreover, how
-lovely the
-American ladies
-always
-looked in contrast
-with the swarthy, heavy Tuscan women. As a
-rule, that is. Of course, there were plain Americans
-and handsome Tuscans; but our countrywomen certainly
-bear off the palm for delicacy of feature and coloring.
-Still, the Tuscan peasant-girls make a fine
-show, with their broad flats of Leghorn straw; and
-when they are married they are invariably adorned with
-strings of Roman pearls about their necks. So many
-rows of pearls counts for so much worldly wealth.</p>
-
-<p>I stroll on, stopping to look in at the picture stores,
-or coming to an enraptured pause before a cellar-way
-piled up with rare and fragrant flowers, such as one
-sees seldom out of Florence&mdash;the City of Flowers.</p>
-<hr class="full x-ebookmaker-drop" />
-
-<div class="chapter">
-
-
-<h2 class="nobreak" id="c64">A CHILD IN FLORENCE.</h2>
-</div>
-
-<hr class="r5" />
-<p class="c more">BY K. R. L.</p>
-<hr class="r6" />
-
-<p class="c sans more">PART III.</p>
-
-
-
-
-<p class="drop-cap">ONE summer we lived in a villa a short distance
-outside the gates of Florence. For Florence
-had gates in those days, and was a walled city, kept
-by Austrian sentinels. That was the time of the
-Austrian occupation. Since then, Solferino and
-Magenta have been fought, and the treaty of Villafranca
-has been signed, and now, “Italy’s one, from
-mountain to sea!”&mdash;</p>
-
-
-<div class="poetry-container">
-<div class="poetry">
-  <div class="stanza">
-    <div class="verse indent0">“King Victor has Italy’s crown on his head,</div>
-    <div class="verse indent0">And his flag takes all heaven with its white, green and red.”</div>
-  </div>
-</div>
-</div>
-
-
-<p>But then the Florentines bowed their necks under
-a hated foreign yoke, scowling when they dared at a
-retreating “maledetto Tedesco” (cursed German).</p>
-
-<p>The phrase “white, green and red” recalls to me
-the fire-balloons we used to send up from our villa
-garden, on the summer nights of long ago. We had,
-for our Italian tutor, an enthusiastic patriot, who had
-fought in the Italian ranks in ’48, and who was looking
-forward to shouldering a musket soon again. It
-afforded him intense gratification to send the national
-colors floating out over Florence. Our villa was built
-on a hill-side, commanding a fine view of the Val
-d’Arno, and of the City of Flowers herself, domed,
-campaniled, spired. The longer the voyages made
-by our balloons, the higher rose the spirits of our
-Signor Vicenzo. He regarded these airy nothings,
-made by his own hands, of tissue paper and alcohol,
-as omens of good or ill to his beloved country.</p>
-
-<p>I suppose he was a fair type of his countrymen
-intensely dramatic, with a native facility of expression.
-One notices this facility of expression among all
-classes. The Italians have an eloquent sign-language
-of their own, in which they are as proficient as in the
-language of spoken words. It is charming to see
-two neighbors communicating with each other across
-the street, without uttering a syllable, by the means
-of animated gestures. It seems a natural sequence
-that they should be a people of artists.</p>
-
-<p>Such long rambles as my sisters and I and our
-maid Assunta took, starting from the villa! Assunta
-was the daughter of a neighboring countryman of the
-better sort, who cultivated a grape vineyard and an
-olive field, besides keeping a dairy. We had a way
-of happening by in the evening in time for a glass of
-warm milk. Assunta’s mother supplied our table
-with milk and butter daily, moreover; butter made
-into tiny pats and done up daintily in grape leaves,
-never salted, by the way; milk put up in flasks
-cased in straw, such as are also used for the native
-wine. Was it the unfailing appetite of childhood, or
-was that milk and butter really superior to any I have
-ever tasted since? What charming breakfasts recur
-to me! <i>Semele</i>, as we called our baker’s rolls; a
-golden circle of butter on its own leaf; great figs
-bursting with juicy sweetness; milk.</p>
-
-<div class="figright">
-<img src="images/fig196.jpg" alt="" />
-</div>
-
-<p>How good those figs used to taste for lunch, too,
-when we would pay a few <i>crazis</i> for the privilege of
-helping ourselves to them off the fig-trees in some
-<i>podere</i> (orchard, vineyard), inclosed in its own stone
-wall, on which scarlet poppies waved in the golden
-sunlight, beneath the blue, blue skies. Am I waxing
-descriptive and dull? Well, dear girls, I wish you
-could have shared those days with me. Roaming
-about those hill-sides, my sisters and I peopled them
-with the creatures of our own imaginations, as well
-as those of other people’s imaginations, to say nothing
-of veritable historical characters. We read and
-re-read Roger’s <i>Italy</i>. Do you know that enchanting
-book? Can you say by heart, as Millie, Eva and I
-could, “Ginevra,” and “Luigi,” and “The Brides of
-Venice”? I wonder if I should like that poetry now?
-I <i>loved</i> it then. Also, I date my knowledge of Byron
-to that same epoch. We children devoured the descriptions
-in “Childe Harold,” and absorbed “The
-Two Foscari,” which otherwise we would perhaps
-have never read. Byron was the poet of our fathers
-and mothers; but in these early days dramatic and
-narrative poetry was more intelligible than the
-mysticism of Tennyson and the Brownings, so
-enchanting to me now.</p>
-
-<div class="figleft">
-<img src="images/fig197.jpg" alt="" />
-<p class="caption"><span class="smcap">A Christmas Tree Festival.</span>&mdash;</p>
-</div>
-
-<p>One evening, some friends who occupied a
-neighboring villa invited mamma to be present
-at the reading of a manuscript poem by
-an American poet, Buchanan Read. I was
-permitted to go, too, and was fully alive to the
-dignity of the occasion. Mr. Read was making
-a reputation rapidly; there was no telling
-what might be in store for him. The generous
-hand of brother artists in Florence all cheered
-him on his way, and accorded to him precisely
-that kind of sympathetic encouragement which
-his peculiar nature required. The group of interested,
-friendly faces in the <i>salon</i> at Villa Allori
-rises up before me as I write, on the evening
-when Mr. Read, occupying a central position,
-read aloud, in his charming, trained voice.</p>
-
-<p>I remember that, in the pauses of the reading,
-Mr. Powers, who was present, amused one
-or two children about him by drawing odd little
-caricatures on a stray bit of note paper, which
-is, by the way, still in my possession. Doubtless
-Mr. Powers’ reputation rests upon his
-statues, not his caricatures; yet these particular
-ones have an immense value for me, dashed off with
-a twinkle in the artist’s beautiful dark eyes.</p>
-
-<p>There was also present on this occasion a beautiful
-young lady, for whom Mr. Read had just written
-some birthday verses, which he read to us, after
-having completed the reading of the larger manuscript.
-Those birthday verses have haunted me ever
-since, and this, although I cannot recall a word of
-the more ambitious poem.</p>
-
-<p>Mr. Powers had lived for so many years in Florence
-that he was by right of that, if by no other right, the
-patriarch of the American colony there. He and
-his large family were most intensely American, in
-spite of their long expatriation. His was emphatically
-an American <i>home</i>, as completely so as though the
-Arno and the Appenines had been, instead, the
-Mississippi and the Alleghanies. This was no doubt
-due to the fact that Mrs. Powers was preëminently
-an American wife and mother, large-hearted and
-warm-hearted. She never forgot the household traditions
-of her youth. She baked mince-pies and
-pumpkin-pies at Christmas and Thanksgiving, and
-dispensed these bounties to her countrymen with a
-lavish hand. Then, too, the Powers lived in a <i>house</i>,
-and not in an <i>apartment</i>, or, as we say, on a flat.
-The children ran up and down-stairs, and in and out
-their own yard, which lay between the dwelling-house
-and the studio, just as American children do. And
-in this genial, wholesome home an artist grew up in
-the second generation. A son of Mr. Powers is now
-making name and fame for himself in his father’s
-profession.</p>
-
-<p>It has been said that the beautiful face of the
-eldest daughter of this family is suggested in her
-father’s “Greek Slave.” I looked up to her then
-with the respect which a child feels for an elder girl,
-“a young lady in society.” I can appreciate now
-and admire, even more than I did then, the extreme
-simplicity and unconsciousness which so well accorded
-with her grand, classic beauty. She was the good
-fairy at a Christmas Tree Festival, to which all the
-American girls and boys in Florence were bidden, on
-the twenty-fifth of December. We were all presented
-with most exquisitely made <i>bonbonnieres</i>, chiefly of
-home manufacture. We were feasted on doughnuts
-which brought tears to some of our eyes; dear
-American doughnuts, that <i>might</i> have been fried in
-the land of the free. We had French candy <i>ad
-libitum</i>; but there was also on exhibition a pound or
-so of genuine American stick candy, such as we see
-by the bushel in this country, and which had been
-brought over from the United States by a friend
-recently arrived, at Mrs. Powers’ special request
-We examined this stick candy with patriotic enthusiasm.
-We ate little bits of it, and thought it infinitely
-better than our candied fruits and chocolate creams.
-Doubtless this little incident here recalled will account
-for the fact that I always associate peppermint stick
-candy with the flag of the Union. It is an unfortunate
-caprice of mind; but, nevertheless, the national
-stripes always rise before me when I see these red
-and white sticks.</p>
-
-<p>I am inclined to the belief that exiles make the
-best patriots. We American children stood up fiercely
-for our own native land, whenever the question as to
-national superiority arose between ourselves and
-English, French, or Italian children,&mdash;especially the
-English. With these we fought the Revolutionary
-war all over again, hotly, if injudiciously. And I am
-confident that we had a personal and individual sense
-of superiority over them. No doubt we were endowed,
-even at that early age, with the proverbial national
-conceit. Some one had told me that every American
-was a sovereign, and that I was consequently a princess
-in my own right. This became a conviction
-with me, and greatly increased my self-importance.
-How glorious to be the citizen of a country of such
-magnificent gifts of citizenship!</p>
-
-<p>But to return to Mr. Powers. His statue of California
-was on exhibition at this time. This is, to my
-mind, the most noble and impressive of his works.
-The strong, resolute face, of classic outlines, and of
-the sterner type of beauty, bears a distinct resemblance
-to the sculptor’s second daughter, although
-by no means a portrait. It has been told me
-that one of the fathers of our American church,
-traveling in Italy, suggested an important alteration
-in this statue. California originally carried in her
-hand a bar, supposed to represent a bar of solid gold.
-The idea occurred to the bishop that were this
-smooth bar&mdash;which might mean anything&mdash;made
-to represent a nugget of gold in the rough, the point
-of the story would be far more effectively told; and
-on this idea the bishop spoke. The sculptor was
-impressed directly, and with all the unaffected simplicity
-of real genius he thanked his critic for the
-hint. California now displays her symbolic nugget;
-and, moreover, about her head is designed a fillet of
-bits of ore in the rough.</p>
-
-<p>The America of Powers is another impressive and
-beautiful female form. A vision of the sculptor comes
-before my eyes, standing in front of this statue, and
-talking it over with a party of visitors. Such a beautiful,
-simple-mannered man&mdash;with his mild dark eyes
-and serene face! He wore the usual blouse and
-linen apron, and the cap of the sculptor. He held his
-chisel in his hand as he conversed. Some of his
-audience did not agree with him in the peculiar political
-views he held. But Mr. Powers would not argue,
-and what need? Had he not preached his sermon in
-stone and eloquently!</p>
-
-<hr class="tb" />
-
-<div class="figcenter">
-<img src="images/fig198.jpg" alt="" />
-</div>
-
-
-
-
-<div class="poetry-container">
-<div class="poetry">
-  <div class="stanza">
-    <div class="verse indent0">The wisest Child in the village in school</div>
-    <div class="verse indent0">Was walking out in the evening cool</div>
-    <div class="verse indent0">When she spied an Owl in a tulip-tree,</div>
-    <div class="verse indent0">So a civil “Good evening, sir” said she,</div>
-    <div class="verse indent0">Bu it gave her a shock (as it might give you)</div>
-    <div class="verse indent0">When he solemnly answered “To wit:&mdash;to who?”</div>
-  </div>
-  <div class="stanza">
-    <div class="verse indent0">“Why, to you, to be sure!” said the little maid:</div>
-    <div class="verse indent0">“But you’ve made a mistake, sir, I am afraid.</div>
-    <div class="verse indent0">I don’t know what you mean by ‘to wit’</div>
-    <div class="verse indent0">But objective is ‘whom’, I am sure of it.</div>
-    <div class="verse indent0">The story-books say you’re a very wise fowl,</div>
-    <div class="verse indent0">But that was a blunder, Mr Owl!”</div>
-  </div>
-</div>
-</div>
-
-
-<hr class="full x-ebookmaker-drop" />
-
-<div class="chapter">
-
-<div class="figcenter" id="c65">
-<img src="images/fig199.jpg" alt="" />
-</div>
-
-
-<h2 class="nobreak">SEEING THE POPE.</h2>
-</div>
-
-
-<hr class="r5" />
-<p class="c more">BY MRS. ALFRED MACY.</p>
-<hr class="r6" />
-
-
-
-
-<p class="drop-cap">IT is only the young people of America who, in this
-age of the world, have not been to Europe; therefore
-to them and for them I have written down, in
-journal form, a few incidents of travel; among them,
-a brief account of an evening spent with La Baronessa
-Von Stein, and a presentation to the Pope.</p>
-
-<p><i>Wednesday.</i> This evening we have spent, by invitation,
-with the Baroness Von Stein, widow of Baron
-Von Stein of Germany. The Baroness, a German by
-birth, passed much of her youth in Poland. Skilled as
-a horsewoman, she often joined her father in rural
-pastimes, shooting, hunting etc. Being perfectly well,
-and of great mind, she acquired, as do all the noble
-women of Europe, a thorough knowledge of the
-ancient classics in their originals; also a familiarity
-with nearly every spoken language of the Old and
-New World. Well comparing with Margaret, Queen
-of Navarre in fluency of tongue, she readily changes
-from Italian to French, from French to Spanish,
-quotes from Buckle, Draper, etc., in English, is quite
-at home on German philosophy, notwithstanding her
-devotion to the Catholic Church. A singularly attractive
-old lady is she now; rather masculine in
-manner, exceedingly so, in mind; a fine painter in
-oil to whom the Pope has sat, in person, for his portrait.
-We have seen the likeness. It is pronounced
-perfect. She is very anxious for us to see his Holiness,
-and we certainly shall not leave Rome without
-so doing. The Baroness has an autograph note from
-Pio Nono, which is a rare possession. This she displayed
-with far more pride than was apparent upon
-showing her own handiwork. When the Holy Father
-sat to her, in order to get the true expression, conversation
-was necessary and she repeated, with much
-satisfaction, snatches therefrom, which were of the
-brightest nature. However learned <i>he</i> may be, in the
-Baroness Von Stein he meets no inferior.</p>
-
-<p>As we entered her room, she was smoking: she
-begged pardon, but continued the performance.</p>
-
-<p>The cigar was a cigar, no cigarette, no white-coated
-article, but a long, large, brown Havana, such as
-gentlemen in our own country use.</p>
-
-<p>“You will find no difficulty,” said she, between her
-whiffs, “in seeing ‘Il Papa,’ and then you will say
-how good is his picture.”</p>
-
-<p>During a part of our interview, there was present a
-sister of a “Secretario Generalissimo to the Pope,”
-who told us the manner in which the Popeship will
-be filled&mdash;she talked only in Italian, but I give a
-literal translation. “The new Pope is approved by
-the present Pio Nono. His name is written upon
-paper by the present Pope and sealed. The document
-is seen by no one, till after the death of ‘Il
-Papa,’ when it is opened, as a will, by the proper
-power. Unlike a will, it can not be disputed.”</p>
-
-<p>Pio Nono certainly had his election in a far different
-way, according to the statements of the Roman
-Exiles of that day.</p>
-
-<p>As the life of his Majesty hangs upon eternity, the
-matter of a successor will soon be decided. “Antonelli
-gone, where will it fall!” said I, but at once
-perceived that I was trespassing and the subject was
-speedily changed.</p>
-
-<p>We left the Baronessa, intent upon one thing, viz.,
-a presentation to the Pope, as soon as practical. Our
-Consul being no longer accredited to this power, but
-to Victor Emanuel, we must apply elsewhere.</p>
-
-<p><i>Thursday.</i> Started early this morning, from my
-residence corner of Bacca di Leone and Via di Lapa
-(doubtful protectors), for the American College and
-Father Chatard, in order to get a “permit” to the
-Monday Reception at the Vatican. On my way
-(and those who know Rome as well as we do will
-know how much on the way) I took, as I do upon all
-occasions, the Roman and Trajan forums, always
-walking when practicable; by the above means, I am
-likely to become very familiar with these beautiful
-views. They are so fascinating that I can not begin
-any day’s work without taking these first. The Trajan
-is my favorite. It may not be uninteresting to
-mention here that, on my circuitous stroll to the said
-College, I saw, and halted the better to see, one of
-those picturesque groups of Contadini and Contadine
-who frequent the towns of Italy. There were, first
-the parents, dressed in the fantastic garb of their class
-of peasantry, i.e., the mother with the long double
-pads, one scarlet and one white, hanging over her
-head and neck, while the father wore a gay slouched
-hat; then three girls, severally garbed in short pink
-dress, blue apron embroidered with every conceivable
-color simple and combined, yellow handkerchief
-thrown over the chest, long earrings, heavy braids,
-bare-footed or in fancifully knit shoes.</p>
-
-<div class="figright">
-<img src="images/fig200.jpg" alt="" />
-<p class="caption"><span class="smcap">Roman Contadino.</span></p>
-</div>
-
-<p>Two boys in equally remarkable attire, and a baby
-that looked like a butterfly, completed the domestic
-circle. They
-did not seem
-to mind my
-gaze. The
-father continued
-his smoking,
-the mother
-her knitting,
-the girls
-their hooking,
-the boys their
-listless lounging,
-and the
-baby its play
-in the dust.
-There was a
-charm in the
-scene. One
-sight however
-(to be sure
-mine was an
-extended opportunity)
-is
-sufficient. A
-few steps beyond
-this
-gathering, I
-found photographs
-colored to represent these vagrants, and at one
-store pictures of the very individuals&mdash;I purchased
-specimens to take to America, a novelty the other
-side of the Atlantic.</p>
-
-<p>After an hour or two, I reached the American
-College, was met by the students who very politely
-directed me to the Concièrge, and my name was taken
-to the learned Father. The students all wore the
-long robe, though speaking English.</p>
-
-<p>Being a Quaker by birth, therefore educated to
-respect every man’s religion, and to believe that
-every man respects mine, nevertheless I felt misgivings
-incumbent upon the meeting of extremes. I was
-ushered into a large drawing-room and was examining
-the pictures, which generally tell the character of the
-owner, when Mr. Chatard entered. As he asked me
-to be seated, I thought, as some one has expressed it
-before me, “the whole world over, there are but two
-kinds of people,&mdash;‘man and woman.’”</p>
-
-<p>The youth of this college may thank their stars that
-America has given them one of her most learned and
-worthy sons, though the sect to which his mother
-once belonged must deplore his loss.</p>
-
-<p>In conversation with this Reverend gentleman, I
-obtained the requirements necessary to an introduction
-to the Pope, and was a little surprised that he
-should question my willingness to conform to the
-same. It was however, explained. He had been
-much embarrassed by the demeanor of some of the
-American women. Seeking the privilege of meeting
-the Pope in his own palace, where common courtesy
-and etiquette naturally demand a deference to the
-Lord of the Manor, yet these ladies, having previously
-guaranteed a compliance with the laws of ceremony,
-after gaining admission refused to obey them.</p>
-
-<p>Seeing the Pope was not, to me, a religious service
-and is not generally so considered.</p>
-
-<p>My only fear was that my plain manners in their
-brusqueness, would have the appearance of “omission.”</p>
-
-<p>But the requirements are simple. Bending the
-knee, as a physical performance, was a source of anxiety.
-I at once called to mind the great difficulty
-which, as a young girl, I had in the play:</p>
-
-
-<div class="poetry-container">
-<div class="poetry">
-  <div class="stanza">
-    <div class="verse indent0">“If I <i>had</i> as many wives</div>
-    <div class="verse indent0">As the stars in the skies,” etc.</div>
-  </div>
-</div>
-</div>
-
-
-<p>Notwithstanding the person who had to kneel in the
-game had a large cushion to throw before her to receive
-the fall, I always shook the house from the foundations
-when I went down. I can hear the pendants
-now, of a chandelier in a certain frame house in my
-native town ring out my weight, as I flung the cushion
-in front of a boy that knew “he was not the one,”
-and took to my knees. True, the Vatican is not
-shaky in its underpinnnings, and faithful practice
-upon the floor of my apartment in Bocca di Leone, I
-thought, would be productive of some good. Quickly
-running through this train of reflection, and finally
-trusting that the gathering would not be disturbed by
-any marked awkwardness, I returned home to await
-the tidings.</p>
-
-<p><i>Monday Evening.</i> Have seen Pio Nono&mdash;have
-committed no enormity.</p>
-
-<p>According to directions, in black dress, black veil,
-<i>à la</i> Spanish lady, ungloved hands (what an appearance
-at a Presidential reception!) we were attired.
-Took a carriage for the Vatican. Before we left home
-the padrona viewed us, pronounced us all right, and
-earnestly sought the privilege of selecting a coach for
-us. She had an eye to style. Is it possible that she
-did not give us credit for the same “strength,” and
-we traveling Americans? It is to be confessed that
-the horses were less like donkeys than otherwise
-might have been. Trying the knee the last thing
-before leaving the house, there was certainly reason
-for encouragement, though still a lingering humility.</p>
-
-<p>Our ride was subdued, but we reached St. Peter’s,
-passed through the elegant halls of the Pope’s Palace,
-surpassed only by those of the Pitti at Florence
-in their gold and fresco, and were ushered into the reception
-room of Pio Nono.</p>
-
-<p>This apartment, long and narrow, seemed more
-like a corridor than a hall. Its beauties are described
-in various guide books, so that “they who read can
-see.”</p>
-
-<p>We were the only Protestants. The other ladies
-were laden with magnificent rosaries, pictures, toys,
-ribbons, etc., for the Holy Father’s blessing. Even I
-purchased one of the first, viz., a rosary, to undergo
-the same ceremony, as a gift to a much-loved servant
-girl at home.</p>
-
-<p>We sat here many minutes in quiet (inwardly longing
-to try the fall.) At length the Pope was led in.
-We forgot our trials. A countenance so benign,
-beaming with goodness, spread a cheer throughout
-the assembly. We took the floor naturally and involuntarily.
-Except in dress, he might have been any
-old patriarch. The white robe, long and plain, gave
-him rather the appearance of a matriarch.</p>
-
-<p>It chanced that his Holiness passed first up the
-right side of the hall. We sat <i>vis à vis</i>, so that we
-had the benefit of all that he said before we came in
-turn. While addressing the right, who continue on
-their knees, the left rise. As he turns to the latter
-they again kneel, whereas those opposite change from
-this posture to the standing.</p>
-
-<p>The Pope talked now in French, now in Italian
-mostly in the former. As he approached our party,
-we were introduced merely as Americans, but our
-religion was stamped upon our brows. Turning
-kindly to my young daughter, who wore, as an ornament,
-a chain and cross, he said, as if quite sure
-of the fact, “<i>You</i> can wear your cross outside, as an
-ornament; I am obliged to wear mine inside as a
-cross;” whereupon, with a smile, he drew this emblem
-from his wide ribbon sash, showing her a most
-elegant massive cross of gold and diamonds, probably
-the most valuable one in the world. As he
-replaced this mark of devotion, his countenance
-expressing a recognition of our Protestantism, perhaps
-a pity for our future, placing his hand upon
-our heads, he passed on. The blessing of a good
-old man, whatever his faith, can injure no one, and
-may not be without its efficacy, even though it
-rest upon a disciple of George Fox.</p>
-
-<p>I shall never cease to be glad that I have seen
-Pio Nono.</p>
-
-<div class="figcenter">
-<img src="images/fig201.jpg" alt="" />
-</div>
-
-<hr class="full x-ebookmaker-drop" />
-
-<div class="chapter">
-
-
-<h2 class="nobreak" id="c66">FAYETTE’S RIDE.</h2>
-</div>
-
-<hr class="r5" />
-<p class="c more">BY CLARA F. GUERNSEY.</p>
-<hr class="r6" />
-
-
-<div>
-<img class="drop-capp7" src="images/fig202.jpg"  alt=""  />
-</div>
-
-<p class="drop-capp">“HELLO, girls! I say, hello!”</p>
-
-<p>This polite salutation was
-addressed to two young girls
-who were standing at the parsonage
-gate in the little village
-of Valery’s Corners. The taller of
-the two colored with vexation, and
-looked back to the house as though she hoped
-no one had seen or heard.</p>
-
-<p>The second answered in a clear, rather peculiar
-voice, “How do you do, Carlos?”</p>
-
-<p>“I say,” returned Carlos, “I was up to your place,
-and seen your folks to-day.”</p>
-
-<p>“I hope they were all well,” said the girl who had
-spoken before, while the other took no notice of Carlos
-whatever.</p>
-
-<p>“Well, no, they wasn’t, jest. I thought I’d tell
-you&mdash;”</p>
-
-<p>“O, what is it?” cried Fayette Locey, running out
-to the wagon, while her companion followed more
-slowly, looking rather annoyed than anxious.</p>
-
-<p>“O, it ain’t nothing to be scared at, only Mr. Ford
-and Dick ain’t to home. They’ve gone over to the
-cattle sale at Elmira, and young Mis’ Ford she’s there
-alone, with only your aunt, and the hired man, and the
-baby.”</p>
-
-<p>“Is the baby sick?” asked Fayette, troubled.</p>
-
-<p>“No, not the baby.”</p>
-
-<p>“Will you be good enough to tell us at once what
-<i>is</i> the matter?” said Helen Ford, speaking for the
-first time with a sort of cold irritation and a certain
-dignity which Carlos, though it rather awed him,
-resented as “stuck up.”</p>
-
-<p>“Ye see,” said Carlos, letting the reins hang loose
-over the backs of the two old farm horses, “I was
-a-going past your house this morning, and I knew you
-was down here, and I thought your folks might have
-something to send.”</p>
-
-<p>“You were very kind,” said Fayette; but Helen
-made no sign.</p>
-
-<p>“I see young Mis’ Ford, and she said the old lady
-was kind of ailin’, and the men folks being away, and
-no one but Hiram, she felt kind of lonesome.”</p>
-
-<p>“Did she send you for us?” asked Helen.</p>
-
-<p>“No, not jest. She said the old lady might be
-going to have one of her bad spells, and as I was
-coming down to the corners I might tell you, and you
-could act your judgment, though she didn’t want to
-disappoint you of your visit. I could see she was
-consid’rable anxious.”</p>
-
-<p>“Are you going back soon?” asked Fayette.</p>
-
-<p>“’Bout half an hour or so. Tell ye what. I’ll call
-when I’ve done my arrands, and then you’ll have your
-minds made up.”</p>
-
-<p>“O, thank you, Carlos,” said Fayette, gratefully.
-“I wish you would.”</p>
-
-<p>Helen said nothing; but as they walked back to
-the house, she looked perplexed and annoyed. “So
-provoking of Sue,” she broke out at last. “If there
-was anything really the matter, why couldn’t she send
-a note? But she is so nervous and fanciful.”</p>
-
-<p>“Sue’s not very strong, and you know Hiram is no
-one to depend upon. I hope Mrs. Allison and Eleanor
-will be back before we go.”</p>
-
-<p>“So you are going?” said Helen, as if the idea
-vexed her.</p>
-
-<p>“Why, Helen, I think one of us should go. If
-aunt had such an attack as she had in the winter,
-what could Sue do?”</p>
-
-<p>“I dare say it is only her fancy,” said Helen.
-“But you are as ready to fancy things as she is,
-Fayette. If there were any reason for anxiety,” she
-continued in the even tones which had contributed to
-establish Helen Ford’s character as a “superior girl,”&mdash;“If
-there were any reason for anxiety, don’t you
-suppose I should be as anxious about my mother as
-you can be, who never saw her till you came to live
-with us three months ago?”</p>
-
-<p>There was a covert sting in these words which
-Fayette felt and resented, but she held her tongue.</p>
-
-<p>“Then I don’t want to miss this lecture,” Helen
-resumed. “It is the last of the set, and I feel it
-my duty to improve every opportunity that is offered
-me.”</p>
-
-<p>Fayette slightly raised her black eyebrows. She
-knew her cousin’s way of squaring her duty with her
-inclination.</p>
-
-<p>“I presume, too, that the boy has quite exaggerated
-the case. Persons of that class always like to
-make a sensation, and I dare say Sue only meant
-that mother had a little cold. She has such a habit
-of talking to all sorts of people as if they were her
-equals.”</p>
-
-<p>“Yes, I think Sue does rather look upon human
-beings as if they were her fellow-creatures,” said
-Fayette.</p>
-
-<p>“I don’t profess to understand sarcasm,” said
-Helen, setting her rather thin lips very straight.
-“Papa and Dick will be at home to-morrow, and
-one night can make no very great difference to Sue.
-It would be a serious disadvantage to me to lose this
-lecture. I have the notes of the whole set, and this
-is the last, and I should never be satisfied to leave
-them in that unfinished state.”</p>
-
-<p>“And suppose you were not satisfied? What
-then?” said Fayette.</p>
-
-<p>For a moment Helen had an odd sensation, as
-though some one had suddenly lifted a curtain and
-given her a glimpse of an unsuspected near and unpleasing
-region; but the feeling passed, and left behind
-it a sense of vexation with her cousin.</p>
-
-<p>“Persons who do not care for intellectual pleasures
-can never understand what they are to others,” said
-Helen, with a superior and pitying smile, which provoked
-Fayette. “As the professor said last night, it
-is the first duty of every one to develop his or her
-nature to its highest capacities, and to seize every
-opportunity for mental enlargement.”</p>
-
-<p>“Fiddlesticks!” thought the irreverent Fayette;
-but she did not say it, and that at least was something.</p>
-
-<p>“Then it would not be polite to the Allisons to go
-off in this way, and when company is coming to tea,
-too. Mr. Allison is gone, and the ladies won’t be
-home till nearly tea time. How it would look to go
-off!”</p>
-
-<p>“We could leave a message; and, Helen, if Sue
-were nervous and fanciful,&mdash;and I don’t think she
-is,&mdash;it would only be one more reason for not leaving
-her alone. I shall go,” concluded Fayette, with sudden
-decision.</p>
-
-<p>“You will do as you please, of course,” said Helen,
-coldly, but secretly not ill pleased. “But it will look
-very strange.”</p>
-
-<p>“I can’t help it. You can tell them all how it
-was;” and Fayette ran up stairs to pack up her
-things.</p>
-
-<p>She had hardly done so when Carlos came back.
-“I wish you joy of your companion,” said Helen to
-her cousin, with something very like a sneer.</p>
-
-<p>“I might easily have a worse one,” said Fayette,
-who liked the big, simple young fellow. “One of us
-is enough to go, and it may as well be I as you. I
-hope you’ll enjoy the evening. Remember me to
-Miss Fenton and the others.”</p>
-
-<p>It was with a little pang that Fayette spoke. She
-had been quite as much interested in the lectures as
-her cousin, and she had found herself very much at
-home with the Misses Fenton, the granddaughters of
-Mrs. Lyndon, at the Hickories.</p>
-
-<p>“Well, of course one is enough, and more than
-enough,” said Helen; “but I suppose now you have
-alarmed yourself so, you will not be satisfied to stay
-here. I shall come home with Mr. Allison Sunday.
-Good-bye.”</p>
-
-<p>Helen went back to the house, and laid out her
-dress for the evening.</p>
-
-<p>The party from the Hickories, and the stray professor,
-who had given four lectures on geology in
-Valery’s Corners, were coming to tea at the Parsonage.</p>
-
-<p>Helen had met the professor before, and had been
-complimented on the interest she displayed in science,
-and she felt, as she said, that she could not be satisfied
-without putting down the notes of the last lecture.</p>
-
-<p>Helen was an intellectual girl&mdash;so said her teachers,
-and so she believed. She liked to acquire facts,
-and rules, and classifications, and dates, and range
-them all nicely away in her mind, as she put her cuffs,
-and collars, and laces, and ribbons in her boxes; as
-she saved odds and ends of silk and linen, and put
-them into labeled bags.</p>
-
-<p>As it pleased her to look over her drawers, and
-count up her possessions, so she liked to review her
-stock of knowledge gained from text-books, and say,
-“All this is <i>mine</i>.”</p>
-
-<p>She told Mrs. Allison that her sister-in-law had
-sent a message by Carlos, and that Fayette had gone
-home.</p>
-
-<p>“Sue is a little nervous sometimes,” said Helen,
-in her most superior manner.</p>
-
-<p>Helen’s evening was very successful. She was invited
-to the Hickories by Mrs. Lyndon. She talked
-to the professor. She took her notes, but some way,
-even when she had neatly copied out the names of all
-the saurians, she did not feel as well “satisfied” as
-she had expected.</p>
-
-<p>It was not till between seven and eight that evening
-that Carlos set Fayette down at her uncle’s
-gate.</p>
-
-<p>The roads were rough, and they had been a long
-time coming the nine miles. Carlos lived at Scrub
-Hollow, a very forlorn hamlet, three miles further
-away.</p>
-
-<p>It was a wild March night, with a loud-sounding
-wind rushing through the upper air. Fayette, as she
-stood at the gate a moment, and looked out over the
-confused mass of rounded, rolling hills that formed
-the dim landscape, felt lonely and half frightened.</p>
-
-<p>Everything was so dim and gray, and seemed so
-full of mysterious sound! The low roar of increasing
-streams, the multiplied whisper and rustle of the
-woods, made the world seem something different from
-the ordinary daylight earth.</p>
-
-<p>She shook off the fancies that crowded upon her,
-and walked quickly up to the house, which stood at
-some distance from the road&mdash;a pile of gray buildings,
-with sharp, many-angled roofs rising against
-the sky.</p>
-
-<p>A light shone from the “living-room” window.</p>
-
-<p>Fayette opened the door, and was greeted by a cry
-of joy from young Mrs. Ford.</p>
-
-<p>“O, Fayette! I’m so glad it’s you!” and there
-was an emphasis as, if the speaker were rather glad it
-was not some one else.</p>
-
-<p>“I thought I’d come,” said Fayette, kissing her.
-“How’s aunt?”</p>
-
-<p>“I think she is pretty sick,” said Sue, lowering her
-voice. “She’s gone to bed.”</p>
-
-<p>“Have you sent Hiram for the doctor?”</p>
-
-<p>“Hiram has gone. I’m all alone. Word came
-over from Springville, just after Carlos was here, that
-his father had broken his leg, and he had to go, of
-course.”</p>
-
-<p>“But why didn’t you tell him to send Dr. Ward
-over?”</p>
-
-<p>“Mother wouldn’t let me. You know how she
-hates to send for a doctor, and she thought she’d be
-better.”</p>
-
-<p>A voice from the next room called to know who
-was there, and Fayette went in.</p>
-
-<p>Mrs. Ford was in bed, her face drawn and pinched.
-A look of pain crossed her features as her niece
-entered. There was disappointment in her voice as
-she said,&mdash;</p>
-
-<p>“Is that you, Fayette?”</p>
-
-<p>“Yes, aunt. I thought I’d come.”</p>
-
-<p>There are women who, in Mrs. Ford’s place, would
-have been angry with the girl for doing what one
-dearer had left undone; but Mrs. Ford, if she
-had such a feeling, was too just to visit it upon
-Fayette.</p>
-
-<p>“You are a good child,” she said, with uncommon
-softness, but with a sigh. “Don’t be troubled. I
-shall get over it by and by.”</p>
-
-<p>But Mrs. Ford did not get over it. The trouble
-was furious and intense neuralgia; not such as young
-ladies have when they suffer “awfully” in the morning,
-and go to a party at night, but blinding, burning
-pain, reducing the life power every minute, and threatening
-the heart.</p>
-
-<p>Sue and Fayette tried in vain every remedy in their
-power. Even Mrs. Ford’s favorite panacea of seven
-different herbs, steeped in spirits with pepper and
-spice, utterly failed.</p>
-
-<p>The patient grew worse and worse, and at midnight
-it was evident that, unless help came speedily, her
-hours were numbered.</p>
-
-<p>The farm was not on the high road, and their nearest
-neighbors were two old maiden ladies, a mile
-away, neither of whom could have been of the least
-use.</p>
-
-<p>Scrub Hollow lay three miles to the south. A
-nurse might have been found there, but no physician.
-Springville, where Dr. Ward lived, was a little further
-off in the opposite direction.</p>
-
-<p>The road to Springville was rough and lonely, and
-lay over wind-swept hill and through dark valley,
-by woods and swamps; for this portion of the southern
-frontier is even now but thinly settled.</p>
-
-<p>“What shall we do?” said poor Sue, wringing her
-hands. “What shall we do?”</p>
-
-<p>“There’s only one thing to do,” said Fayette, desperately.
-“I shall go for the doctor.”</p>
-
-<p>“O, Fayette! Walk all that way alone!”</p>
-
-<p>“I shall ride Phœbe. I can saddle her myself.
-Father taught me how. I must go, Sue. I can’t let
-aunt lie here and die, and never try to save her. It’s
-hard to leave you alone, but it won’t take long. Baby
-hasn’t waked up once. What a mercy! Don’t say a
-word, Sue: I must go.”</p>
-
-<p>“O, Fayette!” cried Sue, helplessly; but she made
-no further objection, and Mrs. Ford had not heard
-the hurried consultation.</p>
-
-<p>Fayette would give herself no time to think. She
-was a nervous little thing, and she dreaded the long
-ride through the windy night more than she had ever
-feared anything in her life.</p>
-
-<p>She was not a very daring rider, though at the little
-frontier post where she had passed two years with her
-parents, her father had taught her to manage a horse
-with reasonable skill, and she had ridden many a mile
-with him over the prairie.</p>
-
-<p>“O, if father were here now!” she said, a sob suddenly
-rising.</p>
-
-<p>Then she was doubtful about her own power to
-manage Phœbe, the great chestnut mare, the pride
-of her uncle’s heart, strong, swift, spirited creature
-that she was.</p>
-
-<p>For two years Phœbe had borne away the prize at
-state and county fairs, and the horse-racing world had
-tempted her owner in vain. Fayette had mounted
-her more than once, and ridden around the yard, and
-up and down the road, but always with some secret
-fears. She had never dared even to try a canter; and
-now to mount at “mirk midnight,” and go, as fast as
-might be, off into the darkness alone on Phœbe’s
-back, seemed an awful thing to poor Fayette.</p>
-
-<p>She knew that the mare was gentle, and she had
-often petted her, and fed her, and led her to water.
-She did not much doubt but that Phœbe would submit
-to be saddled and bridled by her hand, but still
-it was with many a misgiving that she put on her hat
-and jacket. She did not take time to find her habit,
-and, lighting the lantern, went out to the barn.</p>
-
-<p>Phœbe was not lying down. Disturbed, perhaps,
-by the loud-blowing wind, she was wide awake; and
-as Fayette entered with the light, she turned her
-head with a low whinny, as though glad to see a
-friend.</p>
-
-<p>Fayette went into the stall in fear and trembling;
-but she loosened the halter, and led Phœbe out unresisting.</p>
-
-<p>The mare was so tall, and Fayette was so short, that
-she was obliged to stand up on a box to slip on the
-bridle; to which Phœbe submitted, turning her soft,
-intelligent eyes on the girl with mild, wondering inquiry.
-The saddle was harder to manage, but Fayette
-strained at the girth till her wrists ached, and hoped
-all was right.</p>
-
-<p>Some faint encouragement came to her, as she saw
-how gently the mare behaved. “O, Phœbe, darling,”
-said Fayette, “you will be good&mdash;I know you will.
-You are the only one that can help us now.”</p>
-
-<p>Petted Phœbe, used to caresses as a house cat,
-rubbed her dainty head on Fayette’s shoulder, as if to
-reassure her.</p>
-
-<p>Poor Fayette put up one brief wordless prayer for
-help and courage, and then she led Phœbe out of the
-stable, mounted her by the aid of the horse-block, and
-rode away into the night.</p>
-
-<p>Sue, watching forlorn, heard the mare’s hoofs beating
-fainter down the road; and relieved that at least
-Fayette had got off without accident, listened till the
-last sound died away on the wind.</p>
-
-
-<p class="c">CHAPTER II.</p>
-
-<p>IT was a wild March night. The wind blew loud
-and cold, though there was in the air a faint breath of
-spring, and the brooks were coming down with fuller
-currents every hour to swell the Susquehanna. There
-had been heavy rains for the last few days, and the roads
-were deeply gullied, and somewhat dangerous by night.</p>
-
-<p>The wild, white moon, nearly at the full, was
-plunging swiftly through heavy masses of gray cloud,
-that at times quite obscured her light, and the solid
-shapes of hill and wood, and the sweeping, changing
-shadows were so mingled that it was hard to distinguish
-what was real earth and what was but the
-effect of cloud and wind-blown moonshine. All the
-twilight world seemed sound and motion.</p>
-
-<p>Phœbe, as well as her rider, perhaps, felt some of
-the influences of the time; for she snorted and turned
-her head homeward, as if minded to return to her
-warm stable; but she gave way to Fayette’s voice
-and hand, and, striking into a steady pace, picked
-her way down the steep and deeply-furrowed road as
-soberly as an old cart-horse.</p>
-
-<p>The Ford farm-house lay half way up the side of a
-high hill, and the farm extended into the valley below
-in pasture and meadow land. Here, for a space, was
-a hard gravel road; and Fayette, yielding to the
-spur of the moment, let Phœbe canter, which she
-was only too willing to do, and was relieved to find
-how easily she kept her seat, and how gentle was the
-motion.</p>
-
-<p>In a few minutes the bounds of the farm were
-passed, and Fayette’s heart sank low as they drew
-near the roaring, sounding woods through which the
-road lay. The trees stood up like a black wall, with
-one blacker archway, into which the path ran, and
-was lost in the darkness beyond.</p>
-
-<p>People who have never been allowed to hear the
-word “ghost,” who know nothing of popular superstitions,
-who are strangers to ballad lore and to Walter
-Scott, will, nevertheless, be often awed and sometimes
-panic-struck by night, and darkness, and wind, and
-that power of the unseen which laughs Mr. Gradgrind
-himself to scorn.</p>
-
-<p>Fayette, however, had not been properly brought
-up, according to Mr. Gradgrind’s system. She had
-read all sorts of wild tales, and listened to them from
-the lips of a Scotch nurse. She knew many a ballad,
-and many a bit of folk lore, and old paganism,&mdash;pleasant
-enough puppets for imagination to play with
-under the sunshine, but which now rose up in a
-grim life-likeness quite too real.</p>
-
-<p>The owls began to call from the shadows, and once
-and again came a long, wild scream, which, in the
-darkness and wind, had an awful sound.</p>
-
-<p>Fayette knew perfectly well that it was only a coon
-calling, but for all that it frightened her. There came
-over her that horrible feeling which most people have
-experienced once in their lives at least&mdash;the sense
-that some unseen pursuer is coming up behind. In
-a sudden spasm of terror, she very nearly gave way to
-the impulse that urged her to rush blindly on anywhere
-to escape the dread follower. Nerves and imagination
-were running wild; but Fayette, from her
-earliest years, had been trained to self-control and
-duty. She checked the panic that urged her to cry
-and scream for help. She used her reason, and forced
-herself to look back and assure her senses that, so
-far as she could see the dim track, she and Phœbe
-were the only living creatures there.</p>
-
-<p>“I am doing what is right,” she said to herself.
-“God is here as much as in my room at home. It is
-folly to fear things that are not real, and as for living
-beings, not even a wolf could catch me on Phœbe.”</p>
-
-<p>Resolutely rousing her will, she grew more used to
-her situation, and, more able to control her terrors,
-she sternly refused to give rein to her frightened
-fancy. She drew a long breath, however, when once
-the wood was passed and the road began to climb the
-opposing hill, behind which, and across the creek, lay
-Springville. She thought of William of Deloraine
-and his ride to Melrose, and smiled at the remembrance
-of that matter-of-fact hero.</p>
-
-<p>“It’s a good thing, Phœbe, dear, that you and I
-have no deadly feud with any one,” she said; and
-then she patted the mare and praised her, and Phœbe,
-quickening her pace, broke into a gallop, and took the
-hill road with long, sweeping strides that soon brought
-them to the summit.</p>
-
-<p>Fayette began to enjoy the swift motion and a
-sense of independence and safety in Phœbe’s gentle
-compliance with her will; but at the hill-top she
-checked the pace, fearing a stumble down the deeply
-gullied hill, which was still sending rivulets to the
-creek. The amiable Phœbe chose to obey, and picked
-her way, careful both for herself and her rider.</p>
-
-<p>Now rose a new voice on the wind. It was the
-sound of angry waters, a long roar rising louder from
-time to time.</p>
-
-<p>“How high the creek must be!” thought Fayette;
-and as the roar increased, she began to have a sort
-of fear of the bridge, which she knew must be crossed;
-but she classed the feeling with her ghostly terrors,
-and soon found herself drawing near the bridge, the
-noise of the water almost drowning that of the wind.</p>
-
-<p>As she came to the bank, a heavy cloud came over
-the moon, involving the whole landscape in sudden
-and dense blackness; and at that instant Phœbe
-planted her feet like a rock, and refused to stir an
-inch.</p>
-
-<p>In vain Fayette coaxed and urged, for she dared
-not strike, even if she had had a whip. Phœbe was
-immovable as a horse of bronze; but at last she began
-to pull at the bridle, as though she meant to turn
-homeward.</p>
-
-<p>Just then the moon came out, and Fayette, looking
-eagerly forward, saw, to her horror, that the bridge
-was gone. A post and rail only remained, and beyond
-was a chasm where the furious waters had not
-even left a wreck behind.</p>
-
-<p>Had Phœbe’s senses not been more acute than her
-own, two steps more would have plunged horse and
-rider into the flood.</p>
-
-<p>Fayette turned sick, and felt as if she should fall
-from the saddle. She rallied, however, for she knew
-she must. Her senses came back in thankfulness to
-God, and she confessed humbly enough to Phœbe
-that she had known best; and Phœbe, looking over
-her shoulder, said, “I told you so,” as plainly as a
-horse could.</p>
-
-<p>Fayette was at a loss. A mile further up the stream
-was another and much better bridge than the rickety
-old plank structure that was missing; but to reach it
-she must turn back and make a long detour, that
-would nearly double her journey, while every minute
-lessened the chances of the sufferer at home.</p>
-
-<div class="figcenter">
-<img src="images/fig203.jpg" alt="" />
-</div>
-
-<p>She knew that just below the bridge was a ford easily
-passable in summer, and she remembered hearing her
-uncle say that once, when the bridge was down, he had
-crossed this ford on horseback. It might be that even
-now she and Phœbe could make their way across.</p>
-
-<p>A wagon track led down to the water’s edge, and
-Phœbe did not refuse to follow this path to the
-stream’s edge, where Fayette checked her, afraid to
-face the passage.</p>
-
-<p>The creek was coming down ruffled before the wind
-into waves “crested with tawny foam,” and the “wan
-water” looked eerie and threatening.</p>
-
-<p>Fayette refused to think of the water kelpie, who
-just then obtruded himself on her mind. She bent
-from the saddle and scanned the road.</p>
-
-<p>Judging from the traces on the gravel, she thought
-that a wagon must have passed not many hours before.
-Her courage rose, and she set her will to the
-task before her.</p>
-
-<p>“If Phœbe thinks it safe, I’ll try it,” she said; and
-as the rein hung loose, Phœbe stepped cautiously in.
-She seemed doubtful at first, but she went on, and
-the water rose and rose.</p>
-
-<p>The moon cast an uncertain, wavering light on the
-dancing stream; the roar filled Fayette’s ears like a
-threatening voice; the waves, as they plunged toward
-her, seemed hands raised to pull her down; and still
-Phœbe stepped steadily on, and the stream came higher
-and higher. Fayette drew up her feet as far as she
-could, and glanced back to the shore, half minded to
-turn; but it was now as far to one bank as to the other.
-The water touched her feet; it flowed over them.</p>
-
-<p>The next instant she scarcely checked the shriek
-that rose to her lips, for she felt that the mare no
-longer touched bottom, but was swimming for her life
-and her rider’s.</p>
-
-<p>At the real danger her ghostly terrors fled. With
-a sense of wonder she felt her mind grow calm, her
-courage rise, her senses wake to their work.</p>
-
-<p>To her relief she saw that Phœbe had not lost her
-wits, but was keeping straight across the creek. She
-let the mare take her own way, only helping her as
-far as she could by keeping her head in the way she
-wished to go. She thought of nothing but the minute’s
-need; and of all the possibilities before her, the
-only fear that shaped itself in her mind was one for
-her horse.</p>
-
-<p>The current was strong, but so was Phœbe, and
-her blood was up. She snorted fiercely, as if angry
-with the force that crossed her will, and putting out
-her strength, she breasted the storm gallantly.</p>
-
-<p>It was but a minute, though it seemed an hour to
-Fayette, before she touched bottom.</p>
-
-<p>The water sank rapidly, and she reached the shore
-but a little below the usual landing. The bank came
-down to the stream with a somewhat steep incline; but
-mountain-bred Phœbe planted her fore feet firmly,
-scrambled cat-like up the incline, shook the clinging
-water from hide and mane, and with a joyous whinny,
-rushed like an arrow on the track.</p>
-
-<p>The way was plain before her, and in a minute or two
-more Fayette, with some trouble, checked Phœbe’s
-gallop at Dr. Ward’s gate. A light was burning over
-the office door.</p>
-
-<p>Fayette slipped from the saddle, but before she
-turned to the house, she put her arms round Phœbe’s
-neck, and kissed the white star on her forehead. As
-she ran up the walk, she felt, for the first time, that
-she was wet nearly to her knees, and the wind made
-her shiver.</p>
-
-<p>She rang the bell sharply, and to her relief the
-door was opened directly by Dr. Ward himself, who
-had just come in.</p>
-
-<p>Hurriedly, but clearly, Fayette told her story.</p>
-
-<p>“Yes, I understand,” said Dr. Ward. “But, dear
-me,” he added, as the light fell on her more clearly,
-“where have you been to get so wet?”</p>
-
-<p>“In the water,” said Fayette. “The creek is so
-high, and the bridge is down.”</p>
-
-<p>“Child! You did not ride that ford to-night?”</p>
-
-<p>“Not all the way, sir. Phœbe swam.”</p>
-
-<p>“Phœbe, indeed! A pretty pair are you and
-Phœbe to race round the country at midnight. Go
-to Mrs. Ward and get some dry clothes, while my
-man gets out the gig.”</p>
-
-<p>“O, sir, please be quick.”</p>
-
-<p>“Yes, yes; only get off those wet things. Let
-Phœbe stay here till to-morrow, for my old gig can’t
-swim the creek, whatever you and the mare can do.
-We must go by the upper bridge.”</p>
-
-<p>Mrs. Ward, called out of bed, supplied Fayette with
-dry things, and Phœbe was consigned to the doctor’s
-admiring colored man, to be well cared for before
-she took possession of her bed in the warm stable.</p>
-
-<p>The doctor kept a trotter for emergencies, and in
-an hour and a half from the time she had left home
-Fayette came back.</p>
-
-<p>Sue came to meet them, white and scared; and, as
-she came, Fayette heard a cry of anguish, which she
-knew that nothing but the direst extremity could have
-wrung from her strong, self-controlled aunt.</p>
-
-<p>The doctor took out his ether flask and sponge, and
-hurried to the bedside.</p>
-
-<p>Before long the ministering spirit did its good office.
-The tortured nerves relaxed, and the patient slept.</p>
-
-<p>Fayette put on her wrapper, and curled herself up
-on the sofa, leaving Sue and the doctor watching by
-the fire.</p>
-
-<p>When she woke it was broad daylight. All seemed
-quiet about the house. She stole across the floor, and
-looked into her aunt’s room. Mrs. Ford was awake,
-and held out her hand.</p>
-
-<p>“Is the pain gone, aunt?” asked Fayette, kissing
-her, and feeling a new love rising in her heart.</p>
-
-<p>“Yes, child; but I am very weak.”</p>
-
-<p>“It was the ether saved your life, I really think,”
-said Fayette, to whom the past night seemed like a
-dream.</p>
-
-<p>“No, my dear,” said Mrs. Ford. “It was you.”</p>
-
-<div class="figcenter1">
-<img src="images/fig204.jpg" alt="" />
-<p class="caption">“<span class="smcap">Bow-wow.</span>”</p>
-</div>
-
-
-<hr class="full x-ebookmaker-drop" />
-
-<div class="chapter">
-
-
-<h2 class="nobreak" id="c67">FANNY.</h2>
-</div>
-
-<hr class="r5" />
-<p class="c more">BY CLARA DOTY BATES.</p>
-<hr class="r6" />
-
-<div class="figleft">
-<img src="images/fig205.jpg" alt="" />
-</div>
-
-
-<div class="poetry-container">
-<div class="poetry">
-  <div class="stanza">
-    <div class="verse indent0">WHAT do the wistful eyes discover,</div>
-    <div class="verse indent1">Full of their baby dignity?</div>
-    <div class="verse indent0">Lips, I know, are as red as clover,</div>
-    <div class="verse indent0">Cheeks like the bloom that flushes over</div>
-    <div class="verse indent1">Peaches, sun-ripe on the tree.</div>
-  </div>
-  <div class="stanza">
-    <div class="verse indent0">Let but a merry play-thought brighten</div>
-    <div class="verse indent1">Over the little pensive face,</div>
-    <div class="verse indent0">Then how the sober shades will lighten,</div>
-    <div class="verse indent0">Then how the dimples deep will frighten</div>
-    <div class="verse indent1">Every grave line from its place.</div>
-  </div>
-  <div class="stanza">
-    <div class="verse indent0">Well, I know there is mischief sleeping,</div>
-    <div class="verse indent1">Plenty of it, behind this guise;</div>
-    <div class="verse indent0">Little brain has a way of keeping</div>
-    <div class="verse indent0">Back the smiles; but still they are peeping</div>
-    <div class="verse indent1">Out from the brow, the mouth, and eyes.</div>
-  </div>
-</div>
-</div>
-
-
-
-<hr class="full x-ebookmaker-drop" />
-
-<div class="chapter">
-<h2 class="nobreak" id="c68">LITTLE MARY’S SECRET.</h2>
-</div>
-
-<hr class="r5" />
-<p class="c more">BY MRS. L. C. WHITON.</p>
-<hr class="r6" />
-
-
-
-<div class="poetry-container">
-<div class="poetry">
-  <div class="stanza">
-    <div class="verse indent0"><span class="big">O</span> LARKS! sing out to the thrushes,</div>
-    <div class="verse indent1">And thrushes, sing to the sky;</div>
-    <div class="verse indent0">Sing from your nests in the bushes,</div>
-    <div class="verse indent1">And sing wherever you fly;</div>
-    <div class="verse indent0">For I’m sure that never another</div>
-    <div class="verse indent1">Such secret was told unto you&mdash;</div>
-    <div class="verse indent0">I’ve just got a baby brother!</div>
-    <div class="verse indent1">And I wish that the whole world knew.</div>
-  </div>
-  <div class="stanza">
-    <div class="verse indent0">I have told the buttercups, truly,</div>
-    <div class="verse indent1">And the clover that grows by the way;</div>
-    <div class="verse indent0">And it pleases me each time, newly,</div>
-    <div class="verse indent1">When I think of it during the day.</div>
-    <div class="verse indent0">And I say to myself: “Little Mary,</div>
-    <div class="verse indent1">You ought to be good as you can,</div>
-    <div class="verse indent0">For the sake of the beautiful fairy</div>
-    <div class="verse indent1">That brought you the wee little man.”</div>
-  </div>
-  <div class="stanza">
-    <div class="verse indent0">I’m five years old in the summer,</div>
-    <div class="verse indent1">And I’m getting quite large and tall;</div>
-    <div class="verse indent0">But I thought, till I saw the new-comer,</div>
-    <div class="verse indent1">When I looked in the glass, I was small;</div>
-    <div class="verse indent0">And I rise in the morning quite early,</div>
-    <div class="verse indent1">To be sure that the baby is here,</div>
-    <div class="verse indent0">For his hair is <i>so</i> soft and curly,</div>
-    <div class="verse indent1">And his hands <i>so</i> tiny and dear!</div>
-  </div>
-  <div class="stanza">
-    <div class="verse indent0">I stop in the midst of my pleasure&mdash;</div>
-    <div class="verse indent1">I’m so happy I cannot play&mdash;</div>
-    <div class="verse indent0">And keep peeping in at my treasure,</div>
-    <div class="verse indent1">To see how much he gains in a day.</div>
-    <div class="verse indent0">But he doesn’t look <i>much</i> like growing,</div>
-    <div class="verse indent1">Yet I think that he <i>will</i> in a year,</div>
-    <div class="verse indent0">And I wish that the days would be going,</div>
-    <div class="verse indent1">And the time when he walks would be here!</div>
-  </div>
-  <div class="stanza">
-    <div class="verse indent0">O larks! sing out to the thrushes,</div>
-    <div class="verse indent1">And thrushes, sing as you soar;</div>
-    <div class="verse indent0">For I think, when another spring blushes,</div>
-    <div class="verse indent1">I can tell you a great deal more:</div>
-    <div class="verse indent0">I shall look from one to the other,</div>
-    <div class="verse indent1">And say: “Guess, who I’m bringing to you?”</div>
-    <div class="verse indent0">And you’ll look&mdash;and see&mdash;he’s my brother!</div>
-    <div class="verse indent1">And you’ll sing, “Little Mary was true.”</div>
-  </div>
-  <div class="stanza">
-  </div>
-</div>
-</div>
-    <div class="verse indent0"></div>
-
-<hr class="full x-ebookmaker-drop" />
-
-<div class="chapter">
-
-<div class="figcenter" id="c69">
-<img src="images/fig206.jpg" alt="" />
-<p class="caption">NURSERY TILES.    <span class="pad">&mdash;THE SHEPHERD BOY.</span></p>
-</div>
-
-
-<h2 class="nobreak">HOW PATTY CURTIS LEARNED TO SWEEP.</h2>
-</div>
-
-
-<hr class="r5" />
-<p class="c more">BY MRS. M. L. EVANS.</p>
-<hr class="r6" />
-
-
-
-
-<p class="drop-cap">NOWADAYS nearly every school-room is furnished
-with a waste-paper basket, dust-pan
-and brush, with which the pupils are expected to keep
-the room tidy. But in the days when Patty Curtis
-went to school in the old brick school-house in Sagetown,
-such luxuries were unheard of, and the school-room
-during the greater part of the day was a haven
-for dirt&mdash;rather clean dirt it was, but it answered
-the definition which says, “Dirt is matter out of
-place.”</p>
-
-<p>Certainly the school-room floor was no place for
-the scraps of paper over which Patty industriously
-scribbled with her stubby lead-pencil, but it was there
-she dropped them without thought of wrong-doing or
-idea of further responsibility for her manuscript fragments.
-Cores of haws and crab-apples, and shells
-of “pig-nuts” found the same resting place, and
-soiled slate-rags were in such abundance as would
-have delighted the heart of any “old rag man;” during
-flower season, too, a desk proudly adorned with
-fresh flowers in the morning meant a floor sadly strewed
-with wilted, trodden fragments in the afternoon, and
-over all this litter was plentifully sprinkled the dust
-of the earth. Of this we are all supposed to be made,
-and it needs but little faith to believe that children
-are made of it, when one sees, in a school-room, the
-quantity of it they can kick off their feet, and shake
-out of their jackets and skirts.</p>
-
-<p>The services of a janitor were as unknown to the
-old school-house as were the basket, dust-pan and
-brush; the teacher was expected to do the sweeping
-herself. This, Miss Kelsey, Patty’s new teacher one
-spring term, found no pleasant ending to a hard day’s
-work. The desks and seats were awkwardly constructed,
-and placed very close together; if Miss
-Kelsey tried to sweep without looking under them,
-she found she left more dirt than she swept out, and
-if she thrust both head and broom under the seat, in
-order to see what she was doing, she was sure to
-bump her head, and “jab” herself with the broom-handle,
-and in either case she came out of the school-room
-tired and hot, and choked with dust.</p>
-
-<p>It is not strange, then, that she had not done the
-sweeping many days before she came to the conclusion:</p>
-
-<p>“It is the children who make all this labor necessary,
-and it is but right that they should do it themselves;
-they are little and active and could sweep
-under these troublesome seats more easily than I can;
-besides the girls will soon have such work to do at
-home, and their mothers will be glad to have them
-learn to do it here.”</p>
-
-<p>So one evening when both hands on the little
-round clock pointed to IV., and thirty-six boys and
-girls were waiting the tap at the bell that should dismiss
-them, Miss Kelsey spoke:</p>
-
-<p>“I have decided to ask you children to do the
-sweeping for me hereafter, and I will choose two each
-evening from your names, as they stand on my register,
-to do the work. To-night Sarah Adams and
-Aggie Bentley may sweep. There are two brooms,
-one girl can take the boys’ side and the other the
-girls’ side of the room, and you will soon finish the
-sweeping.”</p>
-
-<p>For a moment each pupil eyed the dirty floor, and
-tried to decide whether or not sweeping was a desirable
-piece of work. Sarah Adams very soon decided
-to her satisfaction that it was not, and she raised her
-hand.</p>
-
-<p>“Well, Sarah?” said Miss Kelsey.</p>
-
-<p>“Please, Miss Kelsey, mother’s at a quiltin’ at
-Deacon Smith’s, and she told me to come home as
-soon as school was out, and help Nancy get supper
-for the men.”</p>
-
-<p>Sarah was the oldest girl in school, and Miss Kelsey
-knew that in whatever she led the other children
-were sure to follow, but she did not want to offend
-Mrs. Adams by refusing to allow Sarah to go home
-when school was dismissed, so she reluctantly said:</p>
-
-<p>“Well, then, I suppose I will have to excuse you.
-Hattie Bitner may take your place to-night, and you
-can sweep to-morrow night.”</p>
-
-<p>Up went Hattie’s hand as if worked by a spring.
-“Miss Kelsey, mother’s making soap, and she told
-me to come home right away as soon as school was
-out to tend the baby.”</p>
-
-<p>It was natural, though perhaps not wise, for Miss
-Kelsey to lose patience at this point.</p>
-
-<p>“Then,” said she, “you may go immediately, and
-mind you run every step of the way. Well, Patty
-Curtis, what is your mother doing that you cannot
-stay to sweep?”</p>
-
-<p>Now, Patty had been trying during all of the previous
-dialogue to think if there was not something
-that her mother might possibly want her to do after
-school, by which she might escape the sweeping, but
-all in vain, for Patty’s mother was one of the women
-who “never want children bothering around about
-the work,” and as Patty was too conscientious to invent
-an excuse, as some children would have done,
-she had no answer for Miss Kelsey’s question except
-a rather sulky, “Nothing that I know of, ma’am.”</p>
-
-<p>“Then you and Aggie Bentley take the brooms
-when the others are gone,” said Miss Kelsey, as she
-tapped the bell.</p>
-
-<p>Aggie Bentley was one of the pleasantest little
-girls in the world; when appointed to sweep she did
-not think of trying to evade the duty, it was enough
-for her that her teacher had asked her to do it, and she
-took the broom so cheerfully and went to work with
-such a vim that Patty was shamed out of her unwillingness,
-and soon was swinging the broom as
-briskly and as awkwardly as was Aggie. Still it was
-not a pleasant task, and when she came out of the
-school-room, coughing, sneezing, and wiping the dust
-out of her eyes, she found words for her disgust:</p>
-
-<p>“Ugh! Nasty work! I’m glad there’s thirty-four
-more to sweep before it comes our turn again. Let’s
-see, thirty-four, two at a time, that’s seventeen days.
-Nearly a month before we’ll have to sweep again,
-Aggie!”</p>
-
-<p>But Patty was doomed to disappointment, for at the
-moment she was making this clearly expressed calculation,
-Miss Kelsey was also giving the sweeping
-question serious thought.</p>
-
-<p>“It is going to be a hard matter to persuade these
-children to do the sweeping,” thought she. “I suppose
-most of the mothers can find something for
-them to do, and the little rogues who have always
-loitered and played half an hour or more on their
-way home, will come to-morrow with a fine assortment
-of excuses, all to the effect that they must be at home
-immediately after school. I think I had better
-change the plan and make the sweeping a punishment
-for whispering. They will not care to tell their
-parents that they are detained for misdemeanors, and
-it will put a check on the whispering too.”</p>
-
-<p>So the next morning as soon as school opened she
-told the pupils she should appoint to the sweeping,
-that night, the first two that she should see whispering.</p>
-
-<p>“O, my goodness gracious!” said thoughtless
-Flindy Jenkins to herself in a loud whisper, “I’ll get
-caught sure.” And sure enough she did, for down
-went her name in Miss Kelsey’s “black book.”</p>
-
-<p>Whispering was Patty’s besetting sin, and on hearing
-Miss Kelsey’s decision she buttoned up her mouth
-very tightly indeed, and resolved not to open it again
-until some one else was caught, and she would no
-doubt have kept this politic resolution had she not
-soon after spied little Biddy Maginnis in the act of
-whisking out of a knot-hole in the desk a bunch of
-violets that Patty had, a short time before, fastened
-there. They were the first violets of the season and
-Biddy wanted to smell of them, but Patty did not
-like to have her treasures so roughly handled and in
-the excitement of a moment forgot everything
-else.</p>
-
-<p>“Give those back here,” she said, fiercely, and
-almost aloud.</p>
-
-<p>“Patty Curtis,” said Miss Kelsey, as she wrote her
-name under that of Flindy Jenkins, “I am sorry to
-say that you will have to sweep again to-night.” And
-Patty with a gasp of shame and surprise, sank back
-into her seat with her rescued flowers.</p>
-
-<p>“It’s too bad,” she said to herself as she heard
-the children around her giggle, and in spite of her
-efforts the tears chased each other down her cheeks,
-giving the pretty violets a salt bath. The tears
-stopped after a while, but Patty did not recover from
-her vexation: she sulked all day, and was sulky still
-when she took the broom in hand after school. She
-would show Miss Kelsey, she thought in her naughty
-little heart, that the school-room would look but
-precious little better for her being kept to sweep it.</p>
-
-<p>Flindy Jenkins was a poor companion for a little
-girl in such a frame of mind, and she really fell in
-with Patty’s suggestion that they sweep so the school-room
-should “look like Biddy Maginnises’ house in
-the Hollow;” and when Miss Kelsey came to school
-early the next morning she found the room looking
-worse, if possible, than if it had not been swept
-at all.</p>
-
-<p>That afternoon Miss Kelsey sat at her desk thinking
-so intently about the sweeping, that she did not
-see Aggie Bentley standing beside her until the little
-girl spoke timidly:</p>
-
-<p>“Please, Miss Kelsey, may Patty Curtis and I go
-out and play a little while? we have got all our lessons.”</p>
-
-<p>Miss Kelsey glanced over to Patty and saw an
-eager face shadowed by a very doubting expression,
-for the little girl knew she deserved no play-time
-after her conduct of the night before. So she was
-surprised to see Miss Kelsey’s face brighten, and to
-hear her give a cordial consent. The truth was that
-Miss Kelsey had suddenly solved the problem that
-had been troubling her for several days. Offer as
-reward to the two that would sweep, a half hour’s extra
-recess when lessons were learned! Why had she
-not thought of it before? for if there was anything
-more coveted than “reward cards,” it was these
-“half hours.” Before school closed she made a simple
-statement of her new plan, and was amused to
-see what an electrifying effect it had upon the children;
-and when they were dismissed what a scramble
-there was for the brooms! if there had been thirty-six
-of these, thirty-six children would soon have been
-sweeping away at the floor of the little school-room;
-as there were but two, great was the pulling and twisting
-they received, and loud the uproar among those
-who wanted to use them. The trouble was soon settled
-by Miss Kelsey, who took possession of the
-brooms and said the two should sweep who came
-first in the morning.</p>
-
-<p>Patty Curtis was now in luck, for the fact that her
-mother had nothing for her to do at home, which had
-been such a draw-back to her before, would be the
-greatest help now; she could come to the school-house
-as early as she liked while other little girls had
-to wash dishes, or rock cradles, and the boys had
-wood to split and cows to drive to pasture.</p>
-
-<p>The next morning Patty was the first one at the
-school-house, and she had nearly finished half the
-sweeping when Sarah Adams came, so she and Sarah
-had the half hour play together. Sarah was two
-years older than Patty, and a very quarrelsome girl,
-and she and Patty succeeded in quarelling so over
-the play-house they were building that neither little
-girl got much enjoyment from the reward of her
-labor.</p>
-
-<p>As Patty intended to sweep the next morning, and
-did not want Sarah for a playmate, she lingered after
-school was dismissed to make arrangements with
-Aggie Bentley to assist her. They agreed that Aggie
-was to prevail upon her indulgent mother to allow
-her to start for school as soon as she ate her breakfast.
-Patty was to go at the same time, and they
-would have the sweeping done before Sarah, or any
-one else, should arrive.</p>
-
-<p>But when the two little girls went into the entry to
-get their sunbonnets they noticed that the brooms
-were gone from the corner where they always
-stood.</p>
-
-<p>“Perhaps they have been carried out of doors,”
-said Patty, and she looked out on the steps and in
-various possible and impossible places, but in vain;
-then she went into the house and told Miss Kelsey
-that the brooms were gone, and Miss Kelsey helped
-the little girls search. At last they all gave up.
-Then the teacher spoke:</p>
-
-<p>“I suspect, Patty, some of the pupils think you
-have done enough sweeping for a while, and want to
-give you a rest, so have hidden the brooms. Never
-mind, you will have many more chances to do the
-sweeping, and besides you ought not to want all the
-half hours for yourself.”</p>
-
-<p>But this did not comfort Patty very much; you will
-see she was rather a selfish little girl, and she did
-want all the half hours, as well as all other obtainable
-good things, for herself.</p>
-
-<p>“It is that Sarah Adams who has hid them
-brooms,” she said to Aggie as they walked home together,
-“and she has just done it for spite. I wish I
-could think of some way to get ahead of her, but I
-can’t.”</p>
-
-<p>“Well, we won’t have to go to school so early,”
-said Aggie; “you come over to my house and we
-will have a nice play before the bell rings.”</p>
-
-<p>Before dark, however, Patty had thought of a way
-to “get ahead” of Sarah Adams. This was simply,
-to take a broom with her when she went to school
-the next morning. But a lion in the form of Patty’s
-mother stood in the way of her getting a broom;
-Patty knew she would never allow one to be taken
-away from home; if Patty took one she must take it
-without permission. Now there were but two brooms
-in the house; one stood in the kitchen and was in
-such constant use that Patty knew it would be missed
-long before she could return it; the other was kept
-in the hall closet and was used once a week, in
-sweeping the parlor and “spare room,” and the day
-before had been the regular sweeping day. This she
-must take if she took either, altho’ she knew she
-should not, but she did not allow herself time enough
-to think about it to be persuaded out of the notion;
-she took the broom from the closet, and in the gathering
-darkness carried it to a hiding place between
-the wood shed and the pig-pen, and then went to bed
-to be tormented all night with visions of her mother’s
-best broom:&mdash;an old beggar woman stole it away;
-a black witch mounted it, and rode to the moon, never
-to return; and lastly, Sarah Adams found it, and
-knowing Patty intended sweeping with it burned it
-up before her very eyes. Patty was glad when morning
-came, and she hurried out to assure herself of
-the safety of the broom, as soon as she was dressed.
-When she had eaten her breakfast she started to
-school with the broom, and stopped for Aggie Bentley.
-Aggie found an old broom which her mother
-said she might take. They swept and dusted the
-room in high glee, and Patty had perched herself upon
-one of the front desks, and sat kicking her heels in
-triumph, when Sarah Adams and Hattie Bitner entered
-with the hidden brooms.</p>
-
-<p>“Needn’t mind sweeping this morning, girls,” said
-Patty; “and the next time you hide brooms you’d
-better hide all in Sagetown.”</p>
-
-<p>“I’ll pay you up, miss,” said Sarah, when she had
-recovered from her astonishment, and she and Hattie
-threw down their brooms and left the room in high
-wrath.</p>
-
-<p>Some way Patty did not enjoy her half hour play
-that morning; she was fearful that she might not be
-able to get her mother’s broom back into the house
-without being discovered, and Sarah’s threat troubled
-her; what means Sarah would take to get her into
-trouble she could not imagine.</p>
-
-<p>That evening as Patty sat at home, swinging back
-and forth in her little rocking-chair, who should come
-to make her a visit but Sarah; that hypocritical
-young woman was as smiling and as amiable as possible,
-but she declined all of Patty’s invitations to
-“go out and play;” this made Patty uneasy, she
-wished Sarah would go home. Pretty soon Patty’s
-mother came in and sat down, and Sarah immediately
-began talking about school and Miss Kelsey’s
-plans for the sweeping. Patty grew still more uneasy
-and made another effort to get Sarah out of doors,
-but when Sarah said&mdash;</p>
-
-<p>“My mother said she thought it was so queer that
-Mrs. Curtis should let Patty take a new broom from
-home to sweep that dirty school-house with,”&mdash;then
-Patty resigned herself to her fate.</p>
-
-<p>“Patty Curtis! you don’t mean to say that you
-took my best broom to the school-house,” said Mrs.
-Curtis, dropping her knitting in her astonishment.</p>
-
-<p>“Yes I did,” said Patty; “but I wouldn’t, if that
-mean thing there hadn’t hid the brooms.”</p>
-
-<p>“And I,” said Sarah, “wouldn’t have hid ’em, if
-you hadn’t been so stingy as to want all the play-times
-yourself.”</p>
-
-<p>“There, that will do for you both,” said Mrs.
-Curtis. “Patty, you may get yourself a bowl of bread
-and milk for your supper, and go to bed immediately.”</p>
-
-<p>This, Mrs. Curtis considered a very light punishment;
-it would have been much heavier if her motherly
-indignation had not been a little stirred against
-Sarah for playing informer; but to Patty it was hard
-enough, for she had intended going out on the common
-with the girls, late in the evening, for a game of
-“black man” by the light of the rising moon; and
-as she eat her bread and milk, crying quietly to herself,
-she heard Sarah’s taunting voice under the
-window:</p>
-
-<p>“Don’t you wish you’d let me sweep, so you could
-play ‘black man’ to-night?”</p>
-
-<p>“Don’t care,” answered Patty; “I had a play
-when you didn’t, and I’ll have another to-morrow.”</p>
-
-<p>So she did, and though Miss Kelsey interfered to
-prevent Patty from having a monopoly of the sweeping,
-still she did it so often that before the term
-closed she became a famous sweeper, and her mother
-actually allowed her to take charge of the sweeping
-of the sitting-room at home, and was not at all sorry
-that Miss Kelsey had proved such a skillful tactician.</p>
-<hr class="full x-ebookmaker-drop" />
-
-<div class="chapter">
-
-
-<h2 class="nobreak" id="c70">A BIRD STORY.</h2>
-</div>
-
-<hr class="r5" />
-<p class="c more">BY M. E. B.</p>
-<hr class="r6" />
-
-
-
-
-
-<div class="poetry-container">
-<div class="poetry">
-  <div class="stanza">
-    <div class="verse indent0"><span class="big6">I</span>T’S strange how little boys’ mothers</div>
-    <div class="verse indent1">Can find it all out as they do,</div>
-    <div class="verse indent0">If a fellow does anything naughty,</div>
-    <div class="verse indent1">Or says anything that’s not true!</div>
-    <div class="verse indent0">They’ll look at you just a moment</div>
-    <div class="verse indent1">Till your heart in your bosom swells,</div>
-    <div class="verse indent0">And then they know all about it&mdash;</div>
-    <div class="verse indent8">For a little bird tells!</div>
-  </div>
-  <div class="stanza">
-    <div class="verse indent0">Now where the little bird comes from,</div>
-    <div class="verse indent1">Or where the little bird goes,</div>
-    <div class="verse indent0">If he’s covered with beautiful plumage,</div>
-    <div class="verse indent1">Or black as the king of the crows,</div>
-    <div class="verse indent0">If his voice is as hoarse as a raven</div>
-    <div class="verse indent1">Or clear as the ringing of bells,</div>
-    <div class="verse indent0">I know not&mdash;but this I am sure of&mdash;</div>
-    <div class="verse indent8">A little bird tells!</div>
-  </div>
-  <div class="stanza">
-    <div class="verse indent0">The moment you think a thing wicked,</div>
-    <div class="verse indent1">The moment you do a thing bad,</div>
-    <div class="verse indent0">Are angry or sullen or hateful,</div>
-    <div class="verse indent1">Get ugly or stupid or mad,</div>
-    <div class="verse indent0">Or tease a dear brother or sister&mdash;</div>
-    <div class="verse indent1">That instant your sentence he knells</div>
-    <div class="verse indent0">And the whole to mamma in a minute</div>
-    <div class="verse indent8">That little bird tells.</div>
-  </div>
-  <div class="stanza">
-    <div class="verse indent0">You may be in the depths of a closet</div>
-    <div class="verse indent1">Where nobody sees but a mouse,</div>
-    <div class="verse indent0">You may be all alone in the cellar,</div>
-    <div class="verse indent1">You may be on the top of the house,</div>
-    <div class="verse indent0">You may be in the dark and the silence,</div>
-    <div class="verse indent1">Or out in the woods and the dells&mdash;</div>
-    <div class="verse indent0">No matter! Wherever it happens</div>
-    <div class="verse indent8">The little bird tells!</div>
-  </div>
-  <div class="stanza">
-    <div class="verse indent0">And the only contrivance to stop him,</div>
-    <div class="verse indent1">Is just to be sure what you say&mdash;</div>
-    <div class="verse indent0">Sure of your facts and your fancies,</div>
-    <div class="verse indent1">Sure of your work and your play;</div>
-    <div class="verse indent0">Be honest, be brave, and be kindly,</div>
-    <div class="verse indent1">Be gentle and loving as well,</div>
-    <div class="verse indent0">And then&mdash;you can laugh at the stories</div>
-    <div class="verse indent8">The little bird tells!</div>
-  </div>
-</div>
-</div>
-
-
-
-<hr class="full x-ebookmaker-drop" />
-
-<div class="chapter">
-
-
-<h2 class="nobreak" id="c71">A NEW LAWN GAME.</h2>
-</div>
-
-<hr class="r5" />
-<p class="c more"><span class="smcap">By G. B. Bartlett.</span></p>
-<hr class="r6" />
-
-
-<p class="drop-cap">A COMPLETELY new lawn game has just been
-imported from Germany, which must soon become
-a very popular and amusing pastime for old and
-young, for the appliances are very simple and any one
-can play it, while with practice great skill will be developed.
-At present there is only one set of this game
-in America; but the readers of the <span class="smcap">Wide Awake</span> will
-need to try it but once to appreciate and enjoy it.</p>
-
-
-<p class="c">BOGGIA.</p>
-
-<p>The game of Boggia requires one black ball, nine
-white balls, and nine colored balls. Croquet balls will
-answer; but those of hard wood are better, since they
-are heavier; still if made of light wood, melted lead
-can be poured into holes made with a gimlet until
-they weigh about one-half pound each.</p>
-
-<p>Any even number can play, from two to eighteen
-persons.</p>
-
-<p>The players are divided into two equal sides. The
-colored balls are divided among the players of one
-side, and the white balls among the players of the
-other side.</p>
-
-<p>At first the players choose by lot which shall have
-the first roll; but in all future games the side that
-wins has the first roll. To make this choice, the
-leader of one side holds behind him a colored in one
-hand, and a white ball in the other; and the leader
-of the other side guesses, right or left. If he guesses
-the hand which holds the color of his own side he
-gains the right to begin the game; if not, the other
-side begins. The leader first rolls the black ball on
-the lawn to such a distance as he chooses, from a
-starting-line. Upon this starting-line every player
-must place his right foot when he rolls; this line extends
-across the lawn at least twenty feet, and the
-player can roll from any part of it, as it is often desirable
-to roll from different angles.</p>
-
-<p>The leader then rolls a white ball, trying to have it
-stop as close as possible to the black ball.</p>
-
-<p>The leader of the other side then rolls a colored
-ball; his object being to come in closer, or to knock
-away either the black ball or the white ball.</p>
-
-<p>The players of each side play alternately&mdash;a white
-and a color&mdash;and the luck constantly changes; for
-as, at the close of the game, all balls of one side
-count which are nearer to the black than any ball of
-the other side, a lucky roll may change the whole result
-by coming in closer, or by knocking away either
-black, white, or colored balls.</p>
-
-<p>Great skill can be used, as, if the ball is too swift, it
-goes beyond all the balls unless it hits and scatters
-them; if too light, it fails to come in near the black.
-Great excitement always attends the last roll, as a
-good player who knows the ground can often change
-the whole aspect of the game for the advantage of his
-own side, and a careless one often throws the game
-into the hands of the opposite by knocking away the
-balls belonging to his own side.</p>
-
-<p>The side which first scores ten wins the game.</p>
-
-<hr class="tb" />
-
-
-<div class="poetry-container">
-<div class="poetry">
-  <div class="stanza">
-    <div class="verse indent0"><span class="big4">T</span>he pussy cat’s licking her paws:</div>
-    <div class="verse indent0">I wonder what can be the cause!</div>
-    <div class="verse indent0">Naughty cat, have you eaten a dear little bird?</div>
-    <div class="verse indent0">But the big maltese beauty says never a word.</div>
-    <div class="verse indent0">Now Kit, tell the truth while you live in this house&mdash;</div>
-    <div class="verse indent0">What have you been eating? And Pussy says, “<i>Maowse!</i>”</div>
-  </div>
-</div>
-</div>
-
-
-<div class="figcenter">
-<img src="images/fig207.jpg" alt="" />
-<p class="caption"><span class="smcap">Mother Pussy’s Pet.</span></p>
-</div>
-
-
-<hr class="full x-ebookmaker-drop" />
-
-<div class="chapter">
-
-
-<h2 class="nobreak" id="c72">HOW PHILIP SULLIVAN DID AN ERRAND.</h2>
-</div>
-
-<hr class="r5" />
-<p class="c more"><span class="smcap">By Mary Densel.</span></p>
-<hr class="r6" />
-
-
-<p class="drop-cap">BANG, <i>bang</i>, <i>bang!</i> went Philip Sullivan’s hammer,
-as he pounded on his sled “Chain Lightning.”
-“Chain Lightning” had needed mending ever
-since last winter, but Phil had concluded not to touch
-it till “just before the snow came.”</p>
-
-<p>“Never do to-day what you can put off until to-morrow.”</p>
-
-<p>The consequence was that the north wind suddenly
-puffed up a midnight storm, and Master Phil was
-awakened one morning by the shouts of the six Dyke
-boys, who were coasting merrily down “Sullivan
-Hill.”</p>
-
-<p>Phil was out of bed in a twinkling. Ten o’clock
-found him still working fiercely on “Chain Lightning,”
-his glue-pot simmering before the fire in company
-with his father’s best chisel and his mother’s
-machine oil-can.</p>
-
-<p>The shouts of the Dyke boys still resounded; and
-not only their jubilation but that of forty more coasters
-drove Phil nearly frantic.</p>
-
-<p>With all his might Phil worked on, and “Chain
-Lightning” was beginning to look as if it might hold
-its own even among newer sleds, when the door leading
-into the library opened softly, and fair-haired
-Rosabel, Phil’s sister, appeared on the threshold. At
-the same moment an opposite door flew open with a
-jerk, and there stood Rosabel “done in sepia,” as it
-were; little brown Kate, Rosabel’s twin-sister.</p>
-
-<p>Phil glanced up, and then became more than ever
-absorbed in his work. There was a peculiar expression
-on the twins’ faces. Phil instantly recognized
-it. “The <i>errand</i> cast of features,” he grimly called
-it.</p>
-
-<p>“Phil, dear,” began Rosabel.</p>
-
-<p>“Phil, dear,” echoed Kate.</p>
-
-<p>Phil handled a screw-driver dextrously.</p>
-
-<p>“Phil, dear, will you please run over to the station
-and see if my new skates have come by the twelve-o’clock
-train? Go when the cars are due, won’t
-you?”</p>
-
-<p>“And Phil, dear,” chimed in Kate, “can’t you
-manage to go into the city to-day and call for a roll
-of music which is to be left for me at Hale and McPherson’s?”</p>
-
-<p>Now could anything be more trying to the temper
-of the average youth than requests like these, made
-under the existing circumstances? Perhaps some of
-us may find it in our hearts to forgive Phil for answering
-with a certain touch of asperity:</p>
-
-<p>“Don’t ‘Phil dear’ me! I’m not going to the station,
-and I’m not going to the city, and&mdash;”</p>
-
-<p><i>Bang, bang, bang!</i> the hammer expressed the rest
-of his sentiments.</p>
-
-<p>Rosabel arched her eyebrows, and mildly withdrew.</p>
-
-<p>Kate tarried to wheedle the enemy a bit, and, that
-failing, gave it as her opinion that boys ought never
-to have been created. Departing she closed the door
-with more force than was strictly needful, and left
-Phil alone.</p>
-
-<p>That individual worked on in an injured and
-gloomy frame of mind.</p>
-
-<p>“Mean enough in them to be forever nagging me.
-Mean enough in me not to get their skates and
-music.”</p>
-
-<p>It was hard for Phil to decide which was the greater
-wretch, himself or Kate. Rosabel, he concluded,
-could never be a “blot on the earth,” whatever she
-did. It was Rosabel who had helped him write his
-composition on “Spring;” it was Rosabel who knit
-his mittens; it was Rosabel who never shirked her
-share of the stirring when they made molasses candy.</p>
-
-<p>The remembrance of Rosabel’s virtues haunted
-Phil even after “Chain Lightning” was in order, and
-he was shooting down “Sullivan Hill,” lying prone
-on his sled, with his legs waving in the air.</p>
-
-<p>Perhaps that was the reason that when his elder
-brother Will came hastily up the hill and offered him
-five cents if he would carry a bundle to a store next
-the railway station (you see that Phil was regarded
-as the family errand boy), he condescended to saunter
-in that direction. Not that he cared for the pennies,
-although he accepted them as a token of brotherly
-esteem.</p>
-
-<p>He even quickened his pace as a shrill whistle
-sounded in the distance, and ended by racing up to
-the depot just as the twelve-o’clock train stopped.</p>
-
-<p>No one seemed to know about Rosabel’s skates.</p>
-
-<p>“Ask the man in the express office&mdash;perhaps they
-came on an earlier train,” suggested Fred Rodman,
-who was standing on the platform. “I’ll keep your
-sled for you. Or, see here, just slip the rope through
-this iron ring on the rear car.”</p>
-
-<p>Phil did as he was bidden, and leaving his sharp-shooter
-tied with a slip-knot, went into the express
-office.</p>
-
-<p>The man in the express office had never heard the
-proverb concerning “a place for everything;” or, if
-he had, knowing it was not among the Ten Commandments,
-felt under no obligation to heed it. He
-remarked that “somebody had said something
-about some skates being somewhere,” and went
-fumbling among boxes and bundles, exclaiming alternately,
-“Hi! here they be,” and “Ho! no they ain’t.”</p>
-
-<div class="figcenter">
-<img src="images/fig208.jpg" alt="" />
-<p class="caption">NOT GOING TO LOSE “CHAIN LIGHTENING” AT ANY RATE!</p>
-</div>
-
-<p>At last, just as he laid his hand on a queer-looking
-package, and was next to sure that here were the
-skates, the engine bell rang, there was a slight scurry
-outside, and the train began to move.</p>
-
-<p>Phil was out of the depot in a flash.</p>
-
-<p>“Stop!” he cried; but the locomotive paid no
-heed.</p>
-
-<p>Slowly past the platform glided the cars, pulling
-“Chain Lightning” behind.</p>
-
-<p>Almost before he knew what he was doing, Phil
-had thrown himself on the sled and grasped its rope.
-To his horror the slip-knot suddenly tightened, and
-“Chain Lightning” was firmly fastened. Every
-moment the train quickened its speed.</p>
-
-<p>I should not dare to tell the rest of this story, were
-it not true. I am not “making it up.” It really
-happened.</p>
-
-<p>The sled hung on the car. Phil Sullivan clung to
-the sled. Do you suppose he would lose “Chain
-Lightning?” Not he.</p>
-
-<p>Faster and faster&mdash;faster and faster still&mdash;dashed
-on the train. Over the sleepers bounded “Chain
-Lightning.” To this side, to that, it swayed madly.
-Phil’s grasp never slackened. On they rushed. Phil
-dared not roll off the sled now lest he should be
-killed. It seemed no less certain death to stay
-on.</p>
-
-<p>The engine gave short panting breaths, as if it
-were frightened, itself, at the trick it was playing
-the boy.</p>
-
-<p>A kindly tree stretched out a limb, but tried in vain
-to rescue Phil. The sled bounded far less now as
-the train whizzed along. The runners were half an
-inch from the ground. Held by its strong rope, the
-sharp-shooter was like a small tail to a big kite.
-Cinders flew&mdash;the cars flew&mdash;“Chain Lightning”
-flew&mdash;Phil flew. (I am telling you the truth.)</p>
-
-<p>It seemed to our friend as if he had been rushing
-through space ever since he was born. It seemed as
-if he had come millions of miles. Would this awful
-ride never end? Phil’s fingers were numb, so tightly
-did they clasp “Chain Lightning’s” edge. He saw
-stars before him.</p>
-
-<p>And now <i>thump! bump! bump! thump!</i> “Chain
-Lightning” was knocking the sleepers once more.
-It might have occurred to Phil that he could hardly
-bear this sort of travelling much longer had not his
-brain been too dizzy to do much thinking.</p>
-
-<p>Presently, after another small eternity, with a final
-shriek the locomotive drew up in the city depot.</p>
-
-<hr class="tb" />
-
-<p>An hour later Philip Sullivan entered the paternal
-mansion. Never a word did he say in regard to the
-black-and-blue spots which dotted him from head to
-foot, not yet did he feel it necessary to mention that
-every bone in his body had an especial and separate
-ache.</p>
-
-<p>“I thought I might as well go into town,” he remarked
-carelessly. “Here’s your music, Kate.
-Your skates will probably come to-morrow, Rosabel.”</p>
-
-<p>“Well, you are a dear,” began Kate, looking up
-from her crocheting. But before she could finish
-there came a loud ring at the door-bell, and in rushed
-Fred Rodman. As he caught sight of Phil, his eyes
-and mouth opened wide, and he stared for a full
-minute.</p>
-
-<p>At last, “Aren’t you dead?” he gasped.</p>
-
-<p>“Pho!” said Phil loftily. “I’ve as much right to
-be living as you, sir.”</p>
-
-<p>“Well, I never!” said Fred. “I was over to the
-post-office when the whistle blew, and came out just
-in time to see you off, and I raced most of the way
-to the city after you, and then I turned round and
-raced back to tell your folks!”</p>
-
-<p>“Pho!” said Phil again.</p>
-
-<p>We will pass over any family discussion of the incident;
-but within an hour one half of the boys in town
-were relating to the other half the story of Phil Sullivan’s
-ride. To be sure the versions differed, and to
-this day some of the lads a little out of Phil’s own
-circle are convinced he went to town on the cow-catcher,
-and other some believe that he rode all the
-way under a car, sitting on a brace between the
-wheels.</p>
-
-<p>But that evening, Phil much bruised and battered,
-yet whole in every limb, told to a select few the full
-particulars of his journey; and the facts of the case
-are as I have here narrated them.</p>
-<hr class="full x-ebookmaker-drop" />
-
-<div class="chapter">
-
-
-<h2 class="nobreak" id="c73">WINTER WITH THE POETS.</h2>
-</div>
-
-<hr class="r5" />
-<p class="c more"><span class="smcap">By The Editor.</span></p>
-<hr class="r6" />
-
-
-<p class="drop-cap">OUR prose writers have many winter scenes
-worthy of reading and remembrance (notably
-such as are found in the writings of Charles Dickens
-and Nathaniel Hawthorne) which might almost be
-called prose poems; but to-day we will wander together
-through the flower gardens of the real poets,
-whose eyes were made clearer to see the beauties of
-the world around them, by the loving attention they
-gave to common things.</p>
-
-<p>There is a rabbinical fable to the effect that Jesus
-was once passing along a crowded city street, and
-that he came to a place where lay, unsightly, ragged
-and bruised, a dead dog. The disciples said, “What
-does this carrion here? throw it out of the Master’s
-way.” But the Master said, “Look what beautiful
-teeth&mdash;they are white as pearls!”</p>
-
-<p>So the poet finds “nothing common or unclean”
-in anything that God has made, and man has not
-marred; and even, as in the case of the poor, ill-used
-animal, finds something left to admire in the
-wreck and ruin of former beauty. And though
-winter wrecks the beauty of the summer, it has a
-beauty of its own.</p>
-
-<p>For a country winter in New England there is no
-better description than Whittier’s “Snow-Bound”
-and for the same season in Old England parts of
-Cowper’s “Winter Evening,” “Winter Morning
-Walk” and “Winter Walk at Noon.” Longfellow
-has a description of winter in “Hiawatha” and a
-winter storm at sea in the “Wreck of the Hesperus.”</p>
-
-<p>Shakespeare has scattered references to winter
-throughout his plays; but he is rather the poet of
-human life and society than of inanimate nature.</p>
-
-<p>James Thomson, who wrote “The Seasons,” has
-a fine description of Winter; and every one should
-know by heart the first twenty lines of his “Hymn
-on the Seasons.”</p>
-
-<p>Percy Bysshe Shelley has some beautiful lines on
-a winter’s night; and Tennyson has many fine lines,
-“The Death of the Old Year,” and parts of “In
-Memoriam” being the finest.</p>
-
-<p>Would it not be interesting to each one of the
-readers of the <span class="smcap">Grammar School</span> to gather together
-all the references to winter thoughts and scenery to
-be found in the writings of their favorite poet?
-Try and see!</p>
-<hr class="full x-ebookmaker-drop" />
-
-<div class="chapter">
-
-
-<h2 class="nobreak" id="c74">BESSIE’S STORY.</h2>
-</div>
-
-<hr class="r5" />
-<p class="c more"><span class="smcap">By Frank H. Converse.</span></p>
-<hr class="r6" />
-
-
-<p class="drop-cap">WHAT my own&mdash;my true own name may be or
-may have been, I do not know. I have a
-fancy like a dream, that perhaps it has been Adélê.
-And yet I cannot say why. My father, the captain,
-whose daughter I am by adoption, gave to me the
-name of Bessie, for his wife, and Luna, for the moon.
-Thus within the log-book it is written Bessie Luna
-Wray.</p>
-
-<p>Girls that have upon the shore their home can tell
-to an exactness what age they have and when their
-birthdays shall be. But for myself who have only a
-home upon the sea, I may know but this&mdash;that I
-have nearly fifteen years of age, “or thereabouts,” as
-the captain says. I have never known of the birthday&mdash;only
-an anniversary. And when I have forgotten
-myself of the day of the month on which <i>that</i>
-happens, I obtain the “Petrel’s” log-book for the year
-of eighteen hundred and sixty-four, where I find this
-of record:</p>
-
-<div class="blockquot1">
-
-<p>“Journal of hemaphrodite brig ‘Petrel,’ Wray, master, from
-San Francisco to Honolulu, Dec. 25, 1864.</p>
-
-<p>“This day begins with clearing weather and light airs from S. E.
-Middle part of day wind light and baffling. At 3 P. M. passed a
-quantity of floating wreck stuff. Moon fulls at 11. P. M. At 11.30
-P. M., Lat. by obs. 30° 15´, hove to, and picked up a boat of French
-build with ‘Toulon’ written in pencil on the seat, and a female
-child about one year old wrapped in a capote such as is worn
-by the pilots of Dieppe. Got under way at 12 M., course W. b. N.
-Call the child Bessie Luna Wray. So ends this twenty-four
-hours.”</p>
-</div>
-
-<p>Such is all I know of my beginning of life. Excepting
-that only for the uncommon brightness of
-the moon, the lookout had not seen the drifting boat.
-It is said in all the books I have read, of the babe
-who is discovered, that it smiles sweetly in the face of
-its benefactor. But the captain tells me often that
-I rent the air with crying till I was black in the face,
-until, arriving on the deck of the “Petrel,” old Candace,
-the negress, took me in her embrace. She it was
-who was stewardess, with her husband Jim (also of
-color) as cook.</p>
-
-<p>The captain would at once have had me fed with
-Port wines, condensed milk, canned soups, and
-like nourishment. But Candace said “no,” and gave
-me of food in small quantities. “Dat ’ar little
-stummick mus’n be filled to depletion,” is that which
-the captain repeats as her words to him.</p>
-
-<p>Remaining on board, she had a care of me for
-four years. I would not be on the shore for even an
-hour. I cried bitterly when out of sight of my captain.
-Again we had a stewardess who was English,
-with her husband to cook. She taught me my sewing,
-and a prayer to say to the good God. But as I became
-more old in years the captain gave to me my
-instruction in books. He learned me of many things
-useful, and it is said of me that I have a marvellous
-power to attain in study. At my present age I am
-thin&mdash;<i>svelte</i>, as old M. Jacques, the former mate,
-says&mdash;with a complexion of brunette, and eyes and
-hair which are black. This it is, with the readiness
-which I had in learning the French language of M.
-Jacques, which gives me to think that my mother at
-least was French. The accent and words seemed to
-always be known to me as of a dream.</p>
-
-<p>But the captain will have it to say that I am a gift
-of Christmas from his wife who is with the good God.
-Be that as it may, I am to him as his very, very own,
-and he to me as father and mother in one, “the child
-of his old age,” he insists; for though straight and
-erect as the mast of the “Petrel,” he is in age sixty
-years.</p>
-
-<p>He has provided for me everything of comfort and
-elegance that a young girl could wish. For the
-“Petrel” is a small brig which goes over all the
-world where a keel may float, in order to trade. It
-may be to purchase shells in the Indian ocean, furs
-in St. Petersburg, fruits at Havana, spices in Ceylon,
-silks at Nankin, diamonds or ostrich feathers at
-Cape Town, knick-knacks in London, or <i>bijouterie</i> at
-Havre&mdash;anywhere and everywhere that a bargain
-may be made, we go. And in every port the ladies of
-the consignee, or the American consul, will have me at
-their homes, and are <i>so</i> good to me. They take me
-to the galleries of art and places of interest. I attend
-the service of the church with them, and at
-their homes I meet people who are delightful. Thus
-I have learned to love things which are beautiful,
-and the captain is only too willing to get for me what
-I desire. He has had built for me into the cabin a
-little cabinet organ. We took as passengers to the
-Sandwich Islands last year, a good missionary, and
-his wife, who accompanied him, taught me the music,
-and to sing and play, so that I am never ennuyéed
-at sea. I have a great abundance of books; I have
-my music, my studies (navigation is among them), my
-sewing, a canary bird, and a pot of ivy&mdash;beside my
-journal from which these pages are recorded&mdash;what
-would you more? It does not matter that we meet
-storms&mdash;sometimes terrible ones. I do not say it to
-boast, but I have not anything of fear within. I love
-to be on deck; I have the long oil coat which buttons
-close about me like that of the captain, and boots of
-rubber. Oftentimes the captain permits that I give
-the orders for taking in the light sails, or tacking the
-brig. And I can steer with the wheel as well as old
-Dan himself, or trace the vessel’s course upon the
-chart when I have figured the reckoning.</p>
-
-<p>You of the young ladies who murmur because of
-the space of closets, should visit <i>my</i> room. It has a
-length of ten feet, a breadth of six. My berth, with
-three drawers beneath it, takes much of the room.
-But I have a tiny wash-stand, a small chair, and a
-trunk also.</p>
-
-<p>Pictures too. The one, “Christ Stilling the Tempest,”
-is a small painting in oil, which was a present
-to myself from a lady in Rome whose husband is a
-great artist.</p>
-
-<p>Opposite hangs a photograph of the “Immaculate
-Conception,” also a present from a lady in Liverpool,
-Mrs. Fancher. There is fastened to the wall a swinging
-lamp of solid silver. A diver of the submarine
-brought it up from the wreck of a steam yacht which,
-belonging to Omar Pacha, was lost with all those on
-board in the Persian Gulf. The man gave it as pay
-for his passage to Foochow. But imagine to yourself
-the curtains of my berth being of silk damask worked
-with gold thread! They are of much value, yet
-when one asks of their price, the captain says, with
-his laugh, that he bought them for a song. It was
-while we were loading with a few teas at Foochow. A
-man habited as a sailor came on board at the evening,
-and offered this for fifty dollars. He had been a
-runaway from a ship, and seeking the country, was
-impressed into the army of Chinese insurgents.
-They had sacked the emperor’s country seat at Ningpo,
-and this was torn from the hangings of the couch
-of the princess&mdash;or he thus said. The captain told
-him he could not give but twenty dollars, though it
-was of more worth. But the man said “no,” and
-went out. It was then, thinking that he had gone, I
-began to sing and play the song of Adelaide Proctor,
-“The Lost Chord,” which I so love. And the
-strange man came back and began to cry! He said
-to the captain if I would sing it once more, he should
-have the stuff at his own price, which I did willingly,
-and thus it was purchased.</p>
-
-<p>My book-shelves are of sandal-wood inlaid with
-ebony. They were given me in Madras by the merchant
-with whom the captain has done business these
-many years. The ewer and jug in my wash-stand
-are of bronze. They were discovered from a tomb
-in the Island of Cyprus.</p>
-
-<p>But it is in especial of one voyage&mdash;the last&mdash;of
-which I have to tell, for it came near to become an
-adventure. We were bound to Lisbon, seeking a
-cargo of the light wines for the market of New York,
-and the captain had with him for the purchase three
-thousand dollars in gold. He had shipped for the
-voyage a different chief mate, and also two men of
-the crew who came on board with him. It happens
-to me to notice small things, and I remember that I
-looked with surprise at the familiarity which these
-common sailors had secretly with the first mate. Old
-Jacques would hardly have spoken to a sailor even
-upon the land, except in the way of duty. I had for
-this Mr. Atkin, as he called himself, a strong dislike.
-His face had a smooth badness, but he was fluent of
-tongue with an appearance of education, and the captain
-smiled at what he said was my childish prejudice.
-Yet the good God has given me to read the
-human face, and I often have chosen out those from
-the crew who I felt would make trouble to the officers,
-and was seldom with mistake.</p>
-
-<p>The second officer was Waters, a man very young
-but brave and active. He too regarded this Atkin
-with suspicion. “Tell your father, Miss,” he said
-to me in private, “to keep his weather eye open, and
-look out for Atkin.”</p>
-
-<p>The captain did but laugh when I told him, and
-bade me not trouble my little head with fears. But
-I found him watchful in a quiet way after that, though
-there happened nothing for some time of suspicion.</p>
-
-<p>I find as I copy from my journal that I do not
-sometimes frame these sentences in the exact order
-that I read them in books. I cannot seem to readily
-correct myself, so I have made a point to put down
-all the conversation which I remember, exactly as it
-was spoken by those of whom I shall write. It will
-be a good practice for me. I began to keep my journal
-three years since, with view of having a better
-command of language.</p>
-
-<p>We finally made sight of the Teneriffe peak among
-the Canary Islands. It rises many thousand feet
-above the sea, and for miles is visible in the clear
-weather.</p>
-
-<p>That night the winds died away, and we were becalmed,
-and <i>so</i> warm as it was! I could not sleep,
-and in the first watch&mdash;that of the captain&mdash;I went
-upon deck. Old Dan is a sailor who has been at
-sea with us a great many years, and the only one that
-the captain wishes me to speak with when he is not
-present.</p>
-
-<p>So after I had chatted with the captain a little, he
-went forward a moment with a command for the
-second mate.</p>
-
-<p>“How do you head, Dan?” I asked of him idly.</p>
-
-<p>“Mostly all round the compass, there being no
-steerage way to speak of, Miss,” he made answer.</p>
-
-<p>I yawned, for I had a strong desire to sleep, yet
-cared not to go to the close air of below.</p>
-
-<p>All at once, I thought of the life-boat which swings
-at the “Petrel’s” stern, covered with canvas, and
-how delightful to be in it were it possible. If there
-came a breath of wind I should feel it there; and remembering
-that I had seen a torn fore-royal put into
-the boat a few days previous, I made up my mind
-what to do. “Look you, Dan,” I said, “I am going
-to sleep in the life-boat till you shall come to the
-wheel again in the morning watch from twelve till
-four, and then you can call me.”</p>
-
-<p>“Very well, Miss,” he made reply, though he regarded
-me with a little doubt, “only maybe Cap’n
-Wray wouldn’t think&mdash;”</p>
-
-<p>“He need know nothing of it,” I said with impatience,
-for I have a will headstrong, which often causes
-me after-sorrow. And without other words I slipped
-myself within the boat, pulling the cover in place with
-care.</p>
-
-<p>“Where is Miss Wray?” I heard the captain to
-ask as he came aft a moment after.</p>
-
-<p>“She’s turned in, sir,” was the answer of Dan.</p>
-
-<p>Then the captain began his walk of the quarter-deck
-with vain whistlings for the breeze.</p>
-
-<p>But it was charming laying upon the old sail listening
-to the twitter of Mother Cary’s chickens, and the
-cool swash of the sea about the rudder.</p>
-
-<p>It is not a wonder, then, that I fell into fast sleep,
-only to awaken by the bell striking “one, two, three,
-four,” which I knew had the meaning of two o’clock
-of the morning, and I had some regret at my foolish
-whim, for it had become quite cool and damp. Yet
-I knew I might not release myself until four o’clock,
-when old Dan again had the wheel.</p>
-
-<p>I raised a corner of the cover and peeped out.
-Spanish Joe stood with one hand upon the wheel,
-looking sideways in the half darkness of the night.
-The light from the binnacle was upon his swarthy face
-with strength, and I told myself, with a little shiver,
-that it was the face of a brigand such as I had gazed
-upon in some gallery of pictures. But figure to yourself
-my feelings as Mr. Atkin, after listening a moment
-at the open window of the state-room of the
-captain, came directly behind the wheel, and seating
-himself upon the taffrail so near that I could touch
-him, began with an absent drumming of his fingers
-upon the cover of the boat itself!</p>
-
-<p>“Everybody is sound asleep but you and I, Joe,”
-he said in half a whisper.</p>
-
-<p>“<i>Bueno</i>,” was the reply of Joe; “an’ now, s’pose you
-say what you have think ’bout us try to get dis money
-you tell us of, eh?”</p>
-
-<p>“Well, Joe,” he answers, and you cannot imagine
-to yourself how like oil was his voice, “I’ve laid the
-thing out about this way. To-morrow night when Dan
-is steering and the Swede on the lookout, we’ll give
-young Waters a little pleasant surprise, and when he
-comes to himself, he’ll find that his hands are lashed
-and something over his mouth to keep him from making
-a noise&mdash;savey, Joe?”</p>
-
-<p>I trembled in every limb, and was with a cold perspiration
-on my face. Had I been one who swoons
-readily I should have fainted. But at once I recovered
-myself. “Be brave, Bessie,” I repeated to my
-heart: “it is for the dear captain’s sake.”</p>
-
-<p>“Then we’ll get the captain out,” the wretch continued,
-as Spanish Joe made a small nod of the head,
-“and serve him so, and if the cook, or Dan, or the
-Swede make a fuss (which they won’t dare do) they’ll
-see that the balance of power is with us, for we’ve got
-pistols, and they haven’t. Eh, Joe?”</p>
-
-<p>“Then w’at?” asked Joe with much of eagerness.</p>
-
-<p>“Why, then,” Mr. Atkin goes on with the ease that
-he would remark upon the weather, “we’ll put the
-long boat over the side, and politely invite Captain
-Wray, Miss Wray, Mr. Waters and the cook or one
-of the men to step in. They can shape their course
-for the Azores, only thirty miles away, Joe, and we’ll
-shape ours for Europe.”</p>
-
-<p>“But will you?” I thought within myself with my
-teeth clenched.</p>
-
-<p>“I’ll take command, of course,” thus the bad man
-continued; “and when we are near the land we’ll
-rig up the life-boat here”&mdash;and he thumped it with
-his hand&mdash;“take some provisions, water <i>and</i> the
-money&mdash;”</p>
-
-<p>“One tousan’ apiece,” breaks in the sailor.</p>
-
-<p>“Take the money,” Mr. Atkin went on as if Joe
-had not interrupted; “and when we get ashore, every
-man will take his share, Joe&mdash;and <i>scatter!</i>” he said
-with a flourish of his fingers.</p>
-
-<p>“But the brig shall find harbor too&mdash;they gives
-alarm and sends after us,” said Joe.</p>
-
-<p>“Not after I have fixed the rudder and taken away
-the compass, my good Joe,” said the smooth Mr.
-Atkin; “so now you can let Jerry know what is expected
-of him, and to-morrow night&mdash;”</p>
-
-<p>He made no finish of his words, though, but rising,
-walked slow away.</p>
-
-<p>Ah, how slowly passed the time! but finally, Joe,
-with yawns, struck the eight bells, and the wheel was
-relieved by old Dan.</p>
-
-<p>Surely I lost no time in coming from my hiding-place,
-and I sought the captain, who, without removing
-his clothing, had reclined himself upon a lounge
-in the cabin. I revealed to him in whispers that
-which I had heard.</p>
-
-<p>“My brave little girl!” he said, as I had made an
-end of my story; but I could not think what there was
-of bravery in laying <i>perdu</i>, and listening to conspirators.
-Had I not given him counsel, though, I think
-he would have been for dashing upon the three who
-thus conspired, and smiting them hip and thigh. But I
-told him to communicate in secret with Mr. Waters,
-and they two together might make plans of strategy
-which would avail without bloodshed; and he did so.</p>
-
-<p>It was unfortunate that the captain was entirely
-without firearms of any kind. I think I myself would
-have dared to use one in such an emergency. But
-he whispered to me in the morning that he had that
-which should serve the same end; and with a beating
-heart I awaited the result.</p>
-
-<p>The calm remained into the forenoon of the next
-day. The sea was like oily glass, without a ripple as
-far as one could view, and the sun made itself hardly
-to be endured, so fierce did it beat down upon the
-scorched deck, in the seams of which the pitch fairly
-melted. The sails hung without motion against the
-mast, and the wheel was idle.</p>
-
-<p>With a heart fast beating I followed the captain,
-who had told me to be without fear, upon the deck.</p>
-
-<p>“I wish we had a couple of the turtle that are laying
-round so plenty, asleep on the water, this morning,”
-said the captain, as if to myself, who, stood by
-him, though in a careless way.</p>
-
-<p>I had no meaning of his words, but Atkin, who
-was near, looked at the black specks upon the water
-some distance away, with interest.</p>
-
-<p>“Yes, sir,” he made reply, “there’s always lots of
-them about the Azores in calm weather&mdash;nice soup
-they make, too.”</p>
-
-<p>“You might take the longboat, if you like, Mr.
-Atkin,” said the captain with a yawn, as if it had
-but then occurred to him, “and with your watch take
-two or three&mdash;it would be a change from salt beef.”</p>
-
-<p>“Very well, sir,” Atkin replies; for this man was a
-lover of nice food&mdash;a <i>gourmand</i>. “Here, you Joe
-and Jerry, get the boat over the side.”</p>
-
-<div class="figcenter">
-<img src="images/fig209.jpg" alt="" />
-<p class="caption">THE TABLES ARE SUDDENLY TURNED ON THE CONSPIRATORS.</p>
-</div>
-
-<p>I began to guess that there was a purpose in
-this. I saw that the captain had, under a mask of
-carelessness, a face of anxiety, and that the hand that
-held his glasses with which he viewed the horizon,
-trembled never so little as he paced backward and
-forward while the two men were putting over the
-boat. When all was ready, Mr. Atkin in the stern-sheets
-pushed off from the vessel’s side.</p>
-
-<p>“Stop a bit!” now called the captain, as I watched
-with strong anxiety his face. There was a stern ring
-in his voice which I had seldom heard. And at the
-same time I saw Mr. Waters, Dan and the Swede
-come from the cook’s galley with buckets of hot water
-which they brought to the rail.</p>
-
-<p>“Well?” asked Atkin with inquiry. And he motioned
-the two men to cease from rowing.</p>
-
-<p>“You see Teneriffe peak, do you?” again spoke
-the captain.</p>
-
-<p>“Why, yes, sir,” was the answer of Atkin: “what
-then?”</p>
-
-<p>“Just this,” said the captain; “my advice to you,
-you scoundrels, is that you pull your prettiest for the
-Azore Islands; for while my name is Wray not one of
-you ever shall set foot again of this brig’s deck!”</p>
-
-<p>Ah, then what oaths! what cries of rage! And so
-desperate was this villain Atkin that he drew a pistol
-and commanded his men to pull back, which they
-did with hesitation. But they were scarce within
-reach when old Dan discharged the contents of his
-hot-water bucket full at them. I clapped my hands.
-I could not resist. For Atkin caught enough of it
-on his neck and shoulder to cause him to fall backward
-over the thwart with a roar, and by accident,
-discharge his pistol in the air.</p>
-
-<p>Then it was they saw they were entrapped, and
-pulled hastily away to a distance, where they laid
-upon their oars with angry words each to the other.</p>
-
-<p>And oh, how with eagerness we watched for a
-breeze, which came not until in the late afternoon.
-But when once more the ripple of the water made
-around the bows, and the sails swelled out with a
-wind from the southwest, I breathed with freeness,
-and we all thanked the good God as we watched the
-boat of the conspirators to disappear in the distance.</p>
-
-<p>There were left on board the captain, second mate,
-two men, the cook and stewardess. And Captain
-Wray said I should be his second mate, Mr. Waters
-acting as chief officer.</p>
-
-<p>Many times I stood at the wheel for three and four
-hours before we reached Lisbon. But the “Petrel,”
-which has but a tonnage of one hundred and sixty,
-was easily handled, and the good God gave us favoring
-winds, as also fair weather; so with much
-fatigue, but otherwise well, we finally reached our port
-in safety.</p>
-
-<p>The captain sometimes speaks as one who is getting
-too old for the life of the ocean&mdash;in particular of
-late does he say this. And he has made hints at a
-home upon the land, with a house which shall look
-far out over the sea, and be ever within the sound of
-its voice. It may be that after a time, and with him,
-I should be content thus to live. But as now, I regard
-it with dread. I had somehow dreamed of a
-continuation of this life which so delights me, and
-some day to be buried under the blue waves. But
-we shall see.</p>
-
-
-<div class="blockquot1">
-
-<p>The foregoing story is entirely true in all its essential features.
-I was somewhat acquainted with Miss Wray, and it was with sorrow
-that in the list of disasters two winters ago, I read that the
-brig “Petrel” was lost in the English Channel, with all on
-board, in a December gale.</p>
-
-<p class="r">F. H. C.</p>
-</div>
-<hr class="full x-ebookmaker-drop" />
-
-<div class="chapter">
-
-
-<h2 class="nobreak" id="c75">A DIFFERENCE OF OPINION</h2>
-</div>
-
-<hr class="r5" />
-<p class="c more"><span class="smcap">By The Editor.</span></p>
-<hr class="r6" />
-
-
-<p class="c">WINTER TO SUMMER.</p>
-
-
-<div class="poetry-container">
-<div class="poetry">
-  <div class="stanza">
-    <div class="verse indent0">“<i>I</i> would not be so friendly with the sun;&mdash;</div>
-    <div class="verse indent1">Hot-headed fellow, prying everywhere!</div>
-    <div class="verse indent0"><i>My</i> flowers brightly bloom when he is gone,</div>
-    <div class="verse indent1">And sparkle in the clear and frosty air.”</div>
-  </div>
-</div>
-</div>
-
-
-
-<p class="c">SUMMER TO WINTER.</p>
-
-
-<div class="poetry-container">
-<div class="poetry">
-  <div class="stanza">
-    <div class="verse indent0">“Winter, I own your icy blossoms fair,</div>
-    <div class="verse indent1">But cold and white, unlike the rainbow hues</div>
-    <div class="verse indent0">That paint <i>my</i> flowers&mdash;and who would ever care</div>
-    <div class="verse indent1">For flowers less lasting than my morning dews?”</div>
-  </div>
-</div>
-</div>
-
-<hr class="full x-ebookmaker-drop" />
-
-<div class="chapter">
-
-
-<h2 class="nobreak" id="c76">THE GRASS, THE BROOK, AND THE DANDELIONS.</h2>
-</div>
-
-<hr class="r5" />
-<p class="c more">BY MARGARET EYTINGE.</p>
-<hr class="r6" />
-
-<div>
-<img class="drop-capp4" src="images/fig210.jpg"  alt=""  />
-</div>
-
-
-<p class="drop-capp">THE sparkling, babbling,
-baby-brook that ran
-gayly through the meadow
-whispered to the
-sleeping grass, one
-lovely spring morning,
-just as dawn was
-breaking, “Wake up,
-wake up, and see what
-May has scattered over
-you.” And the grass,
-awaking from a pleasant
-dream of summer,
-beheld a number of
-bright, yellow, star-shaped
-dandelions,
-smiling in the early
-sunshine.</p>
-
-<p>“Welcome a thousand times,” said its many blades
-in a chorus of delight. “How sweet and fresh you
-look, with the dew-drops clinging to your dainty petals
-of shining gold. But you may well look bright and
-happy,” they continued in less cheerful tones, “for
-you are flowers, and flowers so beloved by the sun
-that he paints you his own beautiful color.”</p>
-
-<p>“And are <i>you</i> not happy, too?” asked the dandelions,
-in innocent surprise.</p>
-
-<p>“Yes, we are happy,” answered the grass, with a
-little sigh; “but we would be <i>so</i> much happier if we
-were flowers!”</p>
-
-<p>“<i>We</i> are nothing, you know, but common grass,
-with no hope of being anything better.”</p>
-
-<p>“No change for us. No budding and turning into
-sweet, blue, white, pink, or golden blossoms.”</p>
-
-<p>“Grass we are, and grass we must remain until the
-end of our days.”</p>
-
-<p>“For shame!” cried the dandelions, their honest
-faces all aglow. “‘Common grass,’ indeed! Dear
-May told us all about you, and the blissful mission
-that is yours, only yours, before she dropped us here.”</p>
-
-<p>“<i>You</i> have been chosen to clothe the whole earth,
-while the flowers you envy are only the ornaments
-that cling to the lovely robes you weave.”</p>
-
-<p>“Surely you would not have been so chosen if you
-were not beautiful, and <i>most</i> beautiful.”</p>
-
-<p>“Why are we never called so, then?” asked the
-grass. “Even the children never notice us; but mark
-our words, the moment they see <i>you</i>, they’ll shout,
-‘O, the pretty, pretty dandelions!’”</p>
-
-<p>“They don’t call us ‘pretty’&mdash;O, no, indeed!”</p>
-
-<p>“Nothing is ever said about <i>us</i>.”</p>
-
-<p>“We’re <i>grass</i>, that’s all. No one ever gathers us.”</p>
-
-<p>“We are never made into posies or worn in waving
-ringlets.”</p>
-
-<p>“Nobody admires us and nobody praises us.”</p>
-
-<p>“Not so, not so,” murmured the brooklet, soft and
-low, and its words all flowed in tune and rhyme.
-“<i>I’ve</i> sung your praises many a time. And bird and
-bee oft tell to me, as through the meadow and field I
-pass, how much they love the beautiful grass. So
-don’t get blue, whatever you do, for green’s the color,
-dear grass, for you. And, believe me, everywhere
-you grow, a joy you bring, I <i>know</i> ’tis so. And now,
-I pray, bend over this way, and take the kiss I have
-for you.”</p>
-
-<p>The grass bent gracefully toward the brook, and
-took not one, but three kisses, and then the chattering
-little thing went dancing on its way.</p>
-
-<p>Early that evening, as the setting sun was sinking
-slowly in the west, a strong, sunburnt young fellow,
-with a merry twinkle in his bright brown eyes, came
-into the meadow, and began cutting some sods,&mdash;whistling
-as he worked,&mdash;and packing them away in
-a wheelbarrow he had brought with him.</p>
-
-<p>The grass that had talked with the dandelions, and
-been kissed by the brook in the morning, was the last
-to be cut, and so was placed upon the top of the
-load.</p>
-
-<p>“O, what can this mean?” asked its many tiny
-blades, <i>this</i> time in a chorus of sorrow. “Why are
-we taken from our home? Alas! we never knew
-how much we loved our beautiful meadow until now,
-when we are leaving it forever. Where can we be
-going?”</p>
-
-<p>But just then the man took up the handles of the
-wheelbarrow, and the grass only had time to wave a
-last farewell as he trundled it away.</p>
-
-<p>“Farewell,” called the dandelions; “farewell,”
-murmured the brook; and “farewell,” sighed the
-grass that was left behind.</p>
-
-<p>The young man wheeled the barrow into the front
-yard of a newly-built little cottage on the other side
-of the road.</p>
-
-<p>There was here no sign of anything green, but the
-brown earth had been dug and nicely raked, and the
-grass heard it saying softly to itself in joyful tones,
-“O, now I shall be dressed at last&mdash;here comes the
-beautiful, friendly grass to cover me.”</p>
-
-<p>Then the grass thought of what the dandelions had
-said.</p>
-
-<p>Down went the sods on the ground, and away went
-the barrow for some more; and again and again it
-went, until at least a dozen loads had been brought;
-and then, taking off his coat, the very brown young
-man, whistling merrily all the time, began to make a
-grass plot.</p>
-
-<p>Soon all the sods were put down; and the tiny garden
-commenced already to look bright and cheerful.</p>
-
-<p>“Jenny!” called the brown-faced, brown-eyed,
-brown-haired (<i>wasn’t</i> he brown?) gardener, as he
-took off his hat to wipe his brow.</p>
-
-<p>A rosy-cheeked, blue-eyed young woman came to
-the cottage door in answer to his call, with a rosy-cheeked,
-blue-eyed baby girl in her arms. “O, the
-beautiful grass!” cried she, when she saw what had
-been done; and, “Pretty, pretty!” said the baby girl,
-clapping her fat, dimpled hands.</p>
-
-<p>Then the grass thought of what the brook had
-sung.</p>
-
-<p>“It makes the place look pleasant at once,” said
-the man, leaning on his spade and looking smilingly
-at his work. “But just wait till we have a good
-shower, and then it will be as green as&mdash;as&mdash;green
-as&mdash;well, as green as grass, for I don’t know anything
-greener,” he added, laughing. “And I say,
-Jenny, what a splendid place it’ll be for baby to
-tumble about on! You can latch the gate, and then
-she can roll about here as much as she pleases&mdash;bless
-her little heart!”</p>
-
-<p>“Bess ’er ittie heart!” echoed baby, with funny
-gravity.</p>
-
-<p>“Yes, indeed,” answered the happy mother, kissing
-the soft, sweet red mouth of her darling. “She’ll
-have many a merry hour here, with the daisies and
-dandelions. How thankful we ought to be,” she went
-on a moment after, her face growing serious with a
-feeling of gratitude, “to Our Father in Heaven for
-covering the earth with such a lovely garment&mdash;so
-soft for the weary feet, so refreshing to the tired eyes!
-And do you know, Ralph, I never feel so sorry for
-the poor in great cities as I do in summer, when I
-think of them shut in tall, dreary brick houses, from
-the windows of which they can see nothing but paving-stones,
-no beautiful grass, or else such little struggling
-patches that the sight makes them sadder than
-ever.”</p>
-
-<p>“There, what did we tell you?” asked a voice so
-tiny that only the grass heard&mdash;and lo! a dandelion
-that had clung to its friends, and so been carried
-along to share their new abode.</p>
-
-<p>“Yes&mdash;yes, you were right,” answered the grass.
-“We see how blessed we are, and <i>now</i> we wouldn’t
-change places with the sweetest flowers that ever
-bloomed.”</p>
-
-<div class="figcenter">
-<img src="images/fig211.jpg" alt="" />
-</div>
-
-<hr class="full x-ebookmaker-drop" />
-
-<div class="chapter">
-
-
-<h2 class="nobreak" id="c77">THE BIRDS’ HARVEST.</h2>
-</div>
-
-<hr class="r5" />
-<p class="c more">BY MRS. J. D. CHAPLIN.</p>
-<hr class="r6" />
-
-
-
-
-<p class="drop-cap">IF “Restwood,” the little country-house to which
-we fly from the heat, and dust, and toil of the
-great city, were only large enough, we would invite
-all the young “Wide Awakes” to gather there. We
-would show them such scenery; we would wander
-with them through the deep pine-forest, whose whisperings
-are mingled with the wild roar of the dashing
-sea, and take them to sail in our fairy-like boat, over
-a bay that cannot be outshone by even the lovely
-Italian waters.</p>
-
-<p>Near us are rich country squires, in great, square,
-white houses, where their fathers lived and died;
-farmers, who fight manfully against what inlanders
-call sterility, making fruitful the very sands by their
-energy; and a few retired city gentlemen, who fish,
-and sail, and hunt, and read, and ride, and eat, and
-sleep.</p>
-
-<p>But the greatest among all these, a few years ago,&mdash;he
-may prove in the coming day one of the greatest in
-the kingdom of heaven,&mdash;was a tall, frail young man,
-whom his neighbors regarded as deficient in intellect.
-Everybody is weak in some direction. A wise man
-has remarked, that no one since the fall, when all humanity
-lost its balance, has been perfectly sane. It
-is sometimes very hard to tell who, taking all things
-into account, are the “weaker;” but there is little
-doubt that a jury of wise men would have counted our
-friend Jotham Belden among them.</p>
-
-<p>What little balance-wheel was missing in that mind,
-He who made it only knows; but we rejoice that,
-while He withheld some powers common to most men,
-He also bestowed on him what He withholds from
-many&mdash;a powerful memory, and a delicately refined
-taste, and a strong sense of right.</p>
-
-<p>Jotham was no pauper weakling. He was the
-cherished son of an honorable widow, who had ample
-means to gratify all his innocent desires; who speaks
-of him now with a sigh as well as a smile, and tells
-how he was the fairest and brightest of her fold, till
-the blight fell on him, and he rose from his sick bed
-shattered in body, and with a cloud over his mind.
-“He was never again the same Joe, whose bright
-speeches and merry pranks had been the pride of the
-farm-house, and the amusement of the village,” she
-tells you.</p>
-
-<p>The Scotch have this beautiful saying: “The
-feckless (witless) are God’s peculiar care.” And it
-seemed as if this blighted one, Joe Belden, were,
-indeed, His peculiar favorite; as if, in the furnace
-of pain, with his worldly wisdom had also been consumed
-all of meanness, and selfishness, and hardness.</p>
-
-<p>Jotham grew up very watchful of the interests of all
-about him. No fellow-being was too low or too sinful
-to claim his pity; no creature of God too mean to
-share his love and protection. Being weak in body,
-he had never toiled for his bread. When in the
-house, he read, in stammering accents, to his mother,
-held the yarn while she wound it, and performed any
-little task she required. This all done, he would
-stroll out, as he said, to see that all was right in town.
-He would go to a house where there was sickness,
-look anxiously up at the windows, and hang patiently
-round the gate till spoken to. Then he would ask,
-“Want anybody to go for the doctor? Want any
-jelly? Want burdocks, or horseradish, or anything?”</p>
-
-<p>If sent for the doctor, or allowed to dig herbs for
-the sufferer, he was the happiest man in town; if
-nothing was wanted there, he would wander off to the
-lonely poor-house&mdash;a long, red building, in a barren
-waste, looking as if erected to teach men and women
-that they had no business to be old and poor, and
-that they must be punished for it. Here his were
-like angels’ visits in the joy they brought. His pockets
-were an unfathomable depth; heavy with jack-knives,
-gimlets, screws, nails, buttons, keys, chalk,
-cinnamon, cloves, and lozenges, and the thousand innumerable
-trifles which become treasures in such a
-blank as this poor-house was.</p>
-
-<p>Jotham’s coming made more commotion than a
-peddler’s; for although he brought far less stores,
-either in quantity or quality, they could get his as
-they could not the other’s, for want of money. Newspapers,
-tracts, and, occasionally, a book, were among
-his gifts; and perhaps He who seeth not as man
-seeth, regarded and blessed these weak efforts as He
-does not always the gold and the silver which rich
-men cast into the treasury.</p>
-
-<p>One spring day, after an unusually severe winter,
-Jotham presented himself before his mother in a blue
-farm-frock, with his pants tucked into a pair of two
-capacious cowhide boots.</p>
-
-<p>“Why, my son, are you going to work?” the old
-lady asked, in surprise.</p>
-
-<p>“Yes, Hans has plowed the three-cornered field
-for me, and I’m going to sow grain myself,” he cried,
-triumphantly.</p>
-
-<p>“But that’s poor soil, dear boy, and it’s far from
-the house. There are stones there, and you cannot
-gather your crop if any grows,” said his mother.</p>
-
-<p>“They’ll gather the crops themselves, mother; they
-don’t need any sickle, nor any one to teach them.
-God teaches them how to get in their harvest,” was
-Jotham’s reply.</p>
-
-<p>“Whom are you talking about, Jotham,” asked his
-mother, in surprise.</p>
-
-<p>“Of God’s birds, mother. The men said at the
-store last night, that lots of birds died round there in
-the fall and spring&mdash;starved to death, and all the
-grain is God’s. I’m going to sow a field on purpose
-for them, and nobody shall reap it but them. I love
-them because God loves them. I’ll feed them as he
-feeds me.”</p>
-
-<p>Tears filled her eyes as she laid her hand tenderly
-on the brown head of her smitten son. Was she not
-happier than many a mother whose bright boy has
-wandered far from innocence and truthfulness?</p>
-
-<p>One day, not long after this, Jotham’s minister saw
-him walking over the fields in a strange, circuitous
-manner, describing curves and angles like a drunken
-man. Waiting till he came up to the road, the gentleman
-asked, “What makes you walk in that way,
-Jotham?”</p>
-
-<p>“For fear I’ll step on the ant-hills, sir. There
-never were so many ants before, sir; the fields and
-the roads are full of their little houses. They built
-them grain by grain; and what would God think of
-me if I trod on them just for carelessness,&mdash;as if a
-giant should tear our house down to amuse himself, or
-because he didn’t care! You know, sir,” he added,
-in a whisper, looking reverently up to the skies, “He
-hadn’t any home down here, though the foxes and the
-birds had; and He’s very careful of all homes now,&mdash;homes
-are such beautiful things, sir.”</p>
-
-<p>“God bless you, dear boy,” said the minister. “It
-was for Christ’s sake you cast seed broadcast over
-that rocky field, for His sake that you turned your
-foot away from the home of the poor ant; and for
-this love He will never leave you hungry or homeless.”</p>
-
-<p>“Thank you, sir,” was the innocent reply of poor
-Jotham.</p>
-
-<p>“God’s birds” gathered one harvest under the eye
-of their grateful patron, and then he was called away
-from his simple work.</p>
-
-<p>His step had long been growing weaker, and the
-hectic burning more brightly in his cheek, when, one
-evening, as he lay on the lounge beside his mother, in
-light slumber, he called her, and said, “Did you hear
-that, mother?”</p>
-
-<p>“No, Jotham. What do you hear?”</p>
-
-<p>“The fluttering of a great many wings&mdash;birds
-of every color; and all the other creatures I have
-loved, are enjoying themselves in the sunshine. The
-black ants have all turned to gold, and all the other
-creatures that men hate. I hear a voice, mother&mdash;hark!
-‘Ye are of more value than many sparrows.
-Go to the ant; consider her ways.’ I never hurt
-anything God made&mdash;did I, mother?”</p>
-
-<p>“No, my child.”</p>
-
-<p>“Well, I told Him so, and He smiled on me.”</p>
-
-<p>“You’ve been dreaming, Jotham,” said his mother,
-tenderly.</p>
-
-<p>“Have I?” he asked; and it is no matter whether
-his vision was what we call “dreaming,” or not; he
-had dealt lovingly with the weak things of God, and
-was now receiving His approval, as “faithful over a
-few things.”</p>
-
-<p>Before day dawned Jotham’s weak powers were
-expanding in the warmth of God’s love, and he is
-now, for aught we know, one of the greatest in the
-kingdom of heaven.</p>
-
-<p>Many summers have brought birds and flowers
-since then; but if you should pass Willow Brook
-Farm to-day, you would see a wild-looking crop of
-grain growing rank and free in a three-cornered field,
-off to the east of the house. Perhaps you would also
-see an aged woman standing in the door-way, shading
-her eyes with her hand, as she looks off on this little
-memorial crop which she has caused to be planted
-every year, for the sake of him who planted it once
-“for Christ’s sake.”</p>
-<hr class="full x-ebookmaker-drop" />
-
-<div class="chapter">
-
-
-<h2 class="nobreak" id="c78">BIRDS’-NEST SOUP.</h2>
-</div>
-
-<hr class="r5" />
-<p class="c more">BY ELLA RODMAN CHURCH.</p>
-<hr class="r6" />
-
-
-
-
-<p class="drop-cap">EVERY one thinks of China when birds’-nest
-soup is mentioned&mdash;it seems so naturally to
-belong with stewed snails, fricasseed rats, and other
-delicacies of that sort; and the Chinese are very large
-consumers of this strange dish, but they are not the
-only ones.</p>
-
-<p>The nests from which the soup is made are found
-in Borneo, Java, and other warm regions, and are the
-dwelling-houses of the edible or esculent swallow.
-They are not made, like other nests, of moss, leaves,
-and twigs, as not much soup could be extracted from
-such things, but the substance is like gelatine, and is
-thought to proceed from the body of the bird&mdash;just
-as the web does from that of the spider, or the cocoon
-from the silk-worm.</p>
-
-<p>When the swallows’ houses are new and fresh they
-are snowy white, and so delicate and pretty, that they
-look quite good enough to eat. This is the kind that
-the Chinese are extravagantly fond of, and they pay
-enormous prices for them. But the sun and wind
-soon darken them, and a family of swallows at housekeeping
-do not keep them in very nice order; so that,
-before they are fit for soup, they have to be cleaned
-and bleached.</p>
-
-<p>The airy swallows, who do not think anything of
-precipices, and never trouble their heads about the
-soup business, build their nests in such dangerous
-caves, often hanging directly over the sea, that the
-people who gather them do it at the risk of their
-lives; and this makes birds’-nest soup a very expensive
-dish. The nests are very clear and beautiful,
-and so transparent that, when held to the light, pictures
-placed on the other side can be seen through
-them. Some of them are shaped like clam and oyster
-shells, and much thicker at the end that is fastened
-to the rock.</p>
-
-<p>The outside is in layers; but the inside shows the
-glutinous threads of which they are made, and which
-exposure to the air has made as hard as isinglass.
-These nests are so shallow, that they do not seem
-capable of holding either birds or eggs, one of them
-measuring only two inches in length, one and three
-quarters in breadth, and half an inch in depth. It is
-said, however, that the building of one nest will keep
-a pair of swallows hard at work for two months; it is
-well, therefore, that the little laborers do not know
-that they are not building houses but soup.</p>
-
-<p>There are four different kinds of swallows that make
-these gelatinous nests; and the opening to the cave
-where they are built is always taken possession of by
-a swallow that mixes moss with the gelatine, and tries
-to drive the soup swallow away. But they fight sturdily
-for their beloved caves, and even attempt to
-knock down the mixed nests with stones.</p>
-
-<p>The people of Borneo, where these nests are found
-in the greatest quantities, have many singular stories
-about their origin; and perhaps the most interesting
-of these is the account of the hungry little boy to
-whom no one would give anything to eat.</p>
-
-<p>This little boy was taken by his father from one
-Dyak village to another, called Si-Lébor; and as the
-journey was long, they arrived tired and hungry. It
-was a large village, with plenty of Dyaks in it; and
-the chief of the tribe brought refreshments for the
-father, but gave the poor child nothing. The dishes
-must have been served in hotel fashion, just enough
-for one; for it did not take the poor little traveler
-long to see that he was to go hungry. The narrative
-says that “he felt much hurt;” which he undoubtedly
-did, and began to cry.</p>
-
-<p>Instead, however, of appealing to his selfish father
-for a share of the viands, he made quite a little speech
-to the chief and his followers:&mdash;</p>
-
-<p>“To my father,” said he, “you have given food,
-the <i>prīok</i> of rice is before him, the fatted pig has been
-killed&mdash;everything you have given him. Why do you
-give me nothing?”</p>
-
-<p>But people who keep their enemies’ heads in their
-houses, in ornamental rows, as these Dyaks did, cannot
-be very tender-hearted; and the moanings of a
-hungry little boy were nothing more to <i>them</i> than the
-buzzing of a fly. The child cried and cried; but his
-father placidly pursued his way through the rice and
-the pig; while the others probably continued their conversation,
-or stared stolidly at nothing in particular.</p>
-
-<p>After a while the poor little neglected boy became
-quiet, and seemed to have forgotten about being hungry.
-He even amused himself with a dog and a cat,
-which he placed together on a mat round which all
-the people were seated in Dyak fashion. The cat and
-the dog, guided by the boy, cut up such queer antics,
-that every one burst out laughing.</p>
-
-<p>But a spell was working against them for their
-cruelty. The boy was protected by the evil spirits;
-and soon the sky grew black, and fearful gusts of
-wind rushed over the place. Then came such awful
-peals of thunder and lurid flashes of lightning, while
-the ground beneath them shook and rumbled, that
-the whole universe seemed breaking up.</p>
-
-<p>The darkness was frightful; and the dazzling flashes
-of lightning only showed the fearful changes that were
-taking place. The village, with its houses, melted
-away; and, with the inhabitants, were changed into
-masses of stone. Not one was left alive, except the
-boy; and it must have been a long time before he got
-anything to eat.</p>
-
-<p>He went back to his native village, and lived to be
-respected as the chief of his tribe; it is not probable
-that any one ever neglected him again in the matter
-of rice and fatted pigs. Indeed, one would suppose,
-after that lesson, a constant guard of watchers would
-be kept on a sharp lookout for hungry little boys.</p>
-
-<p>But to come to the birds’ nests. Many years after
-this particular little boy had died an old and honored
-chief, a young chief, who was his lineal descendant,
-had a remarkable dream. In this dream, he was told
-that he and his tribe would find great riches if they
-went to Si-Lébor, the petrified village. They started
-the next day; and, searching carefully about among
-the rocks, they came to an extensive cave. They entered
-it with lighted torches, and found it full of the
-famous edible birds’ nests.</p>
-
-<p>“Ah!” said they, delighted, “this is our portion,
-instead of that which was denied to our ancestor; his
-due was refused then, it has now been given to us his
-descendants; this is our ‘<i>balas</i>’ (revenge).”</p>
-
-<p>The birds’ nests were brought out of the cave by
-thousands; and thus they found their treasure. These
-Si-Lébor caves are still considered the richest; and
-the tribes who own them, the descendants of the hungry
-little boy, are the most prosperous and respected
-in all the region round.</p>
-
-<div class="figcenter">
-<img src="images/fig212.jpg" alt="" />
-<p class="caption">“<span class="smcap">They say you are the Fellow that made so much Trouble in Kansas.</span>”</p>
-</div>
-
-<hr class="full x-ebookmaker-drop" />
-
-<div class="chapter">
-
-<h2 class="nobreak" id="c79">THE STORY OF TWO FORGOTTEN KISSES.</h2>
-</div>
-
-<hr class="r5" />
-<p class="c more">BY KITTY CLOVER.</p>
-<hr class="r6" />
-
-<div class="figleft">
-<img src="images/fig213.jpg" alt="" />
-</div>
-
-<div class="figleft">
-<img src="images/fig214.jpg" alt="" />
-</div>
-
-
-
-<div class="poetry-container">
-<div class="poetry">
-  <div class="stanza">
-    <div class="verse indent0"><span class="big2">W</span>HEN little Dimple Dumpling, one chill fall evening,</div>
-    <div class="verse indent1">Was tucked up, all in white, within his downy bed,</div>
-    <div class="verse indent0">His mamma quite forgot to come and kiss him,</div>
-    <div class="verse indent1">And in the morning, too, forgot to come, ’tis said:&mdash;</div>
-    <div class="verse indent0">Of course ’tis strange that two forgotten kisses</div>
-    <div class="verse indent1">Should make such mischief in the house in just one night;</div>
-    <div class="verse indent0">But when Boy Dumpling woke up in the morning,</div>
-    <div class="verse indent1">His lips, they say, had lost their sweet, his eyes their bright,</div>
-    <div class="verse indent0">And he, who’d always been a darling,</div>
-    <div class="verse indent0">He fell at once with nurse to quarreling.</div>
-  </div>
-  <div class="stanza">
-    <div class="verse indent0">He would not wear his scarlet frock,</div>
-    <div class="verse indent1">Although the morn was chill and frosty;</div>
-    <div class="verse indent0">And off he kicked his sky-blue sock,</div>
-    <div class="verse indent1">Till nurse called him “Mister Crosstie,”</div>
-    <div class="verse indent0">And, all at once, giving a dreadful groan,</div>
-    <div class="verse indent1">She left cross Dimple Dumpling all alone.</div>
-  </div>
-  <div class="stanza">
-    <div class="verse indent0">But when the sounds of silver spoons and bowls</div>
-    <div class="verse indent1">Came up and jingled round in Dimple’s chamber,</div>
-    <div class="verse indent0">And in stole savory sniffs of steaks and rolls,</div>
-    <div class="verse indent1">Quick from his chair did Dimple clamber;</div>
-    <div class="verse indent0">And as he knew that little leggies bare</div>
-    <div class="verse indent1">Were not received at mamma’s breakfast table,</div>
-    <div class="verse indent0">He thought he’d better oil and ’fume his hair</div>
-    <div class="verse indent1">And button on his frock himself if able,&mdash;</div>
-    <div class="verse indent10">The scarlet frock,&mdash;</div>
-    <div class="verse indent10">The sky-blue sock,&mdash;</div>
-    <div class="verse indent10">He was in it</div>
-    <div class="verse indent10">In a minute!</div>
-  </div>
-
-
-<div class="figcenter">
-<img src="images/fig215.jpg" alt="" />
-</div>
-
-  <div class="stanza">
-    <div class="verse indent0">But down stairs Dimple hourly grew more cross,</div>
-    <div class="verse indent1">And o’er the house with awful noise went rushing,</div>
-    <div class="verse indent0">Till all his folks stood up, quite at a loss</div>
-    <div class="verse indent1">To hit upon some brand-new means of hushing.</div>
-    <div class="verse indent0">But on his friends the ogre frowned,</div>
-    <div class="verse indent1">And in the desks and drawers went prowling,</div>
-    <div class="verse indent0">Until a fierce jack-knife was found</div>
-    <div class="verse indent1">That just exactly matched his scowling.&mdash;</div>
-    <div class="verse indent0">Then Dimple opened every blade,</div>
-    <div class="verse indent1">And went right at his dearest treasures,</div>
-    <div class="verse indent0">And hacked, till every toy was made</div>
-    <div class="verse indent1">The victim of his savage measures.</div>
-  </div>
-  <div class="stanza">
-    <div class="verse indent0">Next Dimple growled aloud he’d “keep a school;”</div>
-    <div class="verse indent1">So up hopped Minnie, merry as a linnet,</div>
-    <div class="verse indent0">And offered picture-book and painted rule&mdash;</div>
-    <div class="verse indent1">But “no,” he shrieked, “he wouldn’t have her in it!”</div>
-    <div class="verse indent0">He seized her wooden dolls that couldn’t smile.&mdash;for O,</div>
-    <div class="verse indent1">O, <i>how</i> he hated smiles, grim Dimple Dumpling!</div>
-    <div class="verse indent0">And all the time they sat there in that wooden row</div>
-    <div class="verse indent1">His yellow head against the wall was crumpling,&mdash;</div>
-    <div class="verse indent0">It must have been so sore,&mdash;but there he sat, like stone,</div>
-    <div class="verse indent1">And kicked the floor till mamma cried, “O, this is</div>
-    <div class="verse indent0"><i>Very</i> bad!”&mdash;but, ah, if mamma’d only known</div>
-    <div class="verse indent1">Her little boy was bad for lack of kisses!</div>
-  </div>
-
-<div class="figcenter">
-<img src="images/fig216.jpg" alt="" />
-</div>
-
-  <div class="stanza">
-    <div class="verse indent0">Well, all at once, the silver sun shone out,</div>
-    <div class="verse indent1">And Minnie played she’d never heard those speeches,</div>
-    <div class="verse indent0">But led cross Dimple out, with skip and shout,</div>
-    <div class="verse indent1">Down where the wind had blown the rareripe peaches.</div>
-    <div class="verse indent0">Just one single Red-Cheek lay on the grass,</div>
-    <div class="verse indent1">And O, how Dimple pushed and rushed to get it,</div>
-    <div class="verse indent0">Though Minnie stepped aside to let him pass;</div>
-    <div class="verse indent1">And, then, away he ran to stand and eat it.&mdash;</div>
-    <div class="verse indent0">O, Dimple Dumpling! O, such a bad little man,</div>
-    <div class="verse indent0">All for two kisses! I wonder if this can</div>
-    <div class="verse indent0">The reason be that so many a little brother</div>
-    <div class="verse indent0">Goes wrong his life long,&mdash;for lack of kisses and mother!</div>
-  </div>
-  <div class="stanza">
-    <div class="verse indent1">How do I know but a terrible hunger</div>
-    <div class="verse indent0">Gnaws at the hearts of motherless boys?</div>
-    <div class="verse indent0">How do I know but ’tis that that destroys</div>
-    <div class="verse indent1">All that is good, until boys that are younger</div>
-    <div class="verse indent0">Than you, Boy Dumpling, make the streets sorrowful places,</div>
-    <div class="verse indent0">And the angels weep at the look on the wee, wee faces?</div>
-  </div>
-
-<div class="figcenter">
-<img src="images/fig217.jpg" alt="" />
-</div>
-
-  <div class="stanza">
-    <div class="verse indent0">But off ran selfish Dimple through the pink peach trees,&mdash;</div>
-    <div class="verse indent1">“I’s goin’ by myse’f into the meadow,”</div>
-    <div class="verse indent0">He screamed,&mdash;instead, he fell upon his chubby knees</div>
-    <div class="verse indent1">And tumbled over in the brambly shadow.</div>
-    <div class="verse indent0">Then loud did Dimple shriek, “Minnie! hornets and bees!”</div>
-    <div class="verse indent1">He rolled, he struck before, and struck behind him,</div>
-    <div class="verse indent0">While little Minnie flew along the pink peach trees,&mdash;</div>
-    <div class="verse indent1">“O, dear Dimple! Dimple darling!”&mdash;to find him.</div>
-  </div>
-  <div class="stanza">
-    <div class="verse indent0">Ah, well, perhaps the hornets like a naughty fellow!</div>
-    <div class="verse indent1">For there they rested on his round and rosy cheeks,</div>
-    <div class="verse indent0">And there they clung upon his hair so soft and yellow,&mdash;</div>
-    <div class="verse indent1">No wonder that the tender little sister shrieks!</div>
-    <div class="verse indent0">And when they heard her not a hornet missed her;</div>
-    <div class="verse indent0">They stung her blind just ’cause she was his sister!&mdash;</div>
-    <div class="verse indent6">Poor little sister, poor little brother,</div>
-    <div class="verse indent6">One ran one way, and one the other!</div>
-  </div>
-
-<div class="figcenter">
-<img src="images/fig218.jpg" alt="" />
-</div>
-
-  <div class="stanza">
-    <div class="verse indent0">All day long was dear little Dimple lost,</div>
-    <div class="verse indent1">And all the house was out and calling, “Dimple! Dimple!”</div>
-    <div class="verse indent0">Till just at dark a dingle dim was crossed,</div>
-    <div class="verse indent1">And there, asleep, down in the grass, all sweet and simple,</div>
-    <div class="verse indent0">And like a lily, Dimple was; and mamma, in her joy,</div>
-    <div class="verse indent0">Kissed and kissed him, and he woke up Her Own Good Boy.</div>
-  </div>
-</div>
-</div>
-
-<div class="figcenter2">
-<img src="images/back.jpg" alt="" />
-</div>
-
-<div class="transnote">
-
-<p class="c">Transcriber’s Notes:</p>
-
-<p>Variations in spelling and hyphenation are retained.</p>
-
-<p>Perceived typographical errors have been changed.</p>
-
-</div>
-
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