Front Cover
 Title Page
 Aunt Betty
 The runaway fawn
 Baby May
 The wonderful school
 Careful Carl and bungling Ben
 The little sailor
 What happened to the thistle
 Where happiness dwells
 The maid of Albania
 The gold collar
 Old Scroop's Christmas
 My note book
 Proud Miss Von Thaden
 The rope yarn
 The robber in the wood
 The butcher boy
 The boy who saved his father
 Mischievous pug
 A queer bird's nest
 Back Cover

Group Title: Twilight tales : told for young readers
Title: Twilight tales
Full Citation
Permanent Link: http://ufdc.ufl.edu/UF00053976/00001
 Material Information
Title: Twilight tales told for young readers
Physical Description: 1 v. (various pagings) : ill. (some col.) ; 29 cm
Language: English
Creator: Chapman, Edwin O ( Editor )
Worthington, R ( Publisher )
Publisher: R. Worthington
Place of Publication: New York
Publication Date: 1885, c1884
Copyright Date: 1884
Subject: Children -- Conduct of life -- Juvenile fiction   ( lcsh )
Conduct of life -- Juvenile fiction   ( lcsh )
Children's stories   ( lcsh )
Children's stories -- 1885   ( lcsh )
Publishers' advertisements -- yyyy   ( rbgenr )
Bldn -- 1885
Genre: Children's stories   ( lcsh )
Publishers' advertisements   ( rbgenr )
novel   ( marcgt )
Spatial Coverage: United States -- New York -- New York
Statement of Responsibility: by various authors ; edited by E.O. Chapman ; profusely illustrated with color plates and fine engravings.
General Note: Publisher's advertisements on back cover.
Funding: Preservation and Access for American and British Children's Literature, 1870-1889 (NEH PA-50860-00).
 Record Information
Bibliographic ID: UF00053976
Volume ID: VID00001
Source Institution: University of Florida
Holding Location: Baldwin Library of Historical Children's Literature in the Department of Special Collections and Area Studies, George A. Smathers Libraries, University of Florida
Rights Management: All rights reserved, Board of Trustees of the University of Florida.
Resource Identifier: aleph - 002225056
notis - ALG5328
oclc - 39367177

Table of Contents
    Front Cover
        Cover 1
        Cover 2
    Title Page
        Page 1
        Page 2
    Aunt Betty
        Page 3
        Page 4
        Page 5
        Page 6
    The runaway fawn
        Page 7
        Page 8
        Page 9
        Page 10
        Page 11
    Baby May
        Page 12
        Page 13
        Page 14
        Page 15
        Page 16
    The wonderful school
        Page 17
        Page 18
        Page 19
        Page 20
        Page 21
    Careful Carl and bungling Ben
        Page 22
        Page 23
        Page 24
    The little sailor
        Page 25
        Page 26
        Page 27
        Page 28
        Page 29
    What happened to the thistle
        Page 30
        Page 31
    Where happiness dwells
        Page 32
        Page 33
        Page 34
        Page 35
        Page 36
        Page 37
    The maid of Albania
        Page 38
        Page 39
        Page 40
        Page 41
        Page 42
        Page 43
    The gold collar
        Page 44
        Page 45
        Page 46
        Page 47
        Page 48
    Old Scroop's Christmas
        Page 49
        Page 50
        Page 51
        Page 52
        Page 53
        Page 54
        Page 55
        Page 56
    My note book
        Page 57
        Page 58
        Page 59
        Page 60
    Proud Miss Von Thaden
        Page 61
        Page 62
        Page 63
        Page 64
        Page 65
    The rope yarn
        Page 66
        Page 67
        Page 68
        Page 69
        Page 70
    The robber in the wood
        Page 71
        Page 72
        Page 73
        Page 74
        Page 75
        Page 76
    The butcher boy
        Page 77
        Page 78
        Page 79
        Page 80
    The boy who saved his father
        Page 81
        Page 82
        Page 83
        Page 84
        Page 85
        Page 86
    Mischievous pug
        Page 87
        Page 88
        Page 89
        Page 90
        Page 91
    A queer bird's nest
        Page 92
        Page 93
        Page 94
        Page 95
        Page 96
        Poem 1
        Poem 2
        Poem 3
        Poem 4
        Poem 5
        Poem 6
        Poem 7
        Poem 8
        Poem 9
        Poem 10
        Poem 11
        Poem 12
    Back Cover
        Cover 1
        Cover 2
Full Text

..' ..-


. ' ;.. .:- .

. -I. ;
~r 7

), g,,

i /I /J

:- "
I.. -

*1 I..


I11wh Baldwin Lhibrary
, RI ^1B ,.1..

__- _'. -
-5 ?IT Y! ~~-trl

,.--,.L. .- __ -.,- -
~5 d~Li n
. .. .. ... '" i

----- '
-I J\ 44

- -,

-- j ---
-- -2. ,_. -.' -' .'(

Ii... :. _.i, (_ --I r .. -
~f K) ..-i rk

.... ..-~ 1 .. __, ,,
4~ ~~i I

AM / q-- r -4
,jl )
'' 2'
; ",,
I 'ii ;-I ;I. "-I p

,-K 'r- I':, '
, _." ,' re --
. _-', /' ..-

-. ", j _: .- : ,
"---"-~ ~ 'r I' ... - .-' --,.',." '
,/ I r ... ,,
... .. .... .'k ,.,,,
;I I--_- i: I
--. . % .I ...- .1 ,,,.,:-; .."





3profusely 31tustrateb vitl)j oloreb plates anu Sine Qfngravings .





Press of J. J. Little & Co., Nos. to to 20 Astor Place, New York.


WE all call her "Aunt Betty," but she is not our to go, not so much for the flowers as for the pretty
aunt at all. Joe says so, and he knows, for he goes stories she will tell us. She knows more stories
to the High School, and he knows 'most everything, than anybody except Joe. He says he knows twice
Indeed I know myself that she is not my aunt, for as many, but then it is very seldom that we can get
she is no relation to papa or mamma. And they him to tell us one, while Aunt Betty is always ready.
both call her Aunt Betty, too, and so does every- And I like her stories, too, better than I do Joe's,
body in the village, and she couldn't be aunt to all but I wouldn't like to make him feel bad by telling
of us you know. But Joe says that her name is him so, for when he feels bad that way, he goes
not Betty, either; that her real name is Miss Elizabeth off and plays ball with the boys all day, and we
Graham, and they call her Betty for short. But if would much rather he'd stay and play with us.
they do, then they wouldn't put the "Aunt" to it, When we go to Aunt Betty's by the road it is
for that only makes it longer. When I mentioned much farther than across the fields, by which there
this to Joe, he only laughed and said I mustn't ask is a path that leads straight to the back door. She
so many questions. always sits by that door, and looks out toward
Perhaps there are some things that Joe don't the village and to the bit of the road where it
know after all. At any rate I am going to call her winds around to the front of the house. I found
Aunt Betty, for none of us will ever think of say- her there one day when I went to visit her.
ing Miss Elizabeth Graham, and Aunt Betty wouldn't "What makes you look so sad, Aunt Betty?"
like us to either. asked I.
Aunt Betty lives in the big house, all alone. The "I feel a little sad to-day, my dear," said she; and
house is big enough for forty people, but no one then she smiled so good like that I couldn't help saying:
lives there but her and her cat, and they only live "What makes you smile, then ?"
in the little part at the back. She has a little "Because I am happy too," said she. "My
garden and the most beautiful flowers I ever saw. thoughts make me both sorrowful and happy. You
When we go to see her, she fills our aprons full. do not understand it now, my dear (she always
She likes to have us come and see her, and we like called me that), but you may some day."


"What are you thinking of? I suppose you are older than I, and he used to show me the prettiest
thinking of the picnic Joe is going to give us. It flowers in the woods and where the sweetest apples
makes me dreadful happy to think of it; but I grew. In the winter we skated and made snow men
should feel very sorrowful if I could not go. But together. He was smarter than I, and when my
why can't you go, Aunt Betty? It's only for us sums bothered me, he would take my slate and
children, you know, but I'll speak to Joe about it, make them all straight in a minute. And so as we
and he won't care for only you." grew up, I grew very fond of him, and he grew fond
Aunt Betty took me in her arms then and kissed of me-yes," said she, with the far-away look, "yes,
me and called me a kind-hearted girl; and then a he was fond of me."
great tear fell right on my cheek. But when I So when you grew big, you were married, weren't
looked up, Aunt Betty was smiling again, you?" said I. "Tell me about your getting married."
I don't like to cry my- "We were going to be,
self, and I don't like to see -- -- -.- my dear. It was so writ-
anybody else cry; so I ten in my father's will.
said: "Tell me all about I My father was rich, but
it, and then you will feel \ t L all the money was to be
better." I said it in a kept in the business, and
wise-like way, as Mamma '. I was to marry his part-
says it to me, for I know near's son. But the busi-
it to be true-if you tell ness somehow went bad,
t ness somehow went bad,
what you are sorry about, and I heard the neigh-
it don't hurt so bad. Then i bors whisper that all my
Aunt Betty smiled more, i fortune was lost. But
and said: "I was not that didn't make any dif-
thinking of Joe's picnic, ference with him. I knew
though I might have been bhe would marry me just
thinking of other picnics the same. The big house
that we had in the grove I then was surrounded by
-but that was many, beautiful grounds. You
many years ago. Ah! can see bits of the old
those were happy days," wall yet. But then, my
said she, more to herself -- -dear, the wall was high,
than to me, for she was and there were big gates
looking out the door, toward the bit of road, but in it, which were kept locked nearly all the time.
with a far-away look, as though she was looking One day, he and I were in the garden, and looking
much farther. over a fence that divided it we saw three little girls.
"Do you expect some one, Aunt Betty? I They were the children of the wealthy family just
asked. moved into the village. Though it was a warm
"What a strange question," said she; "and yet summer day, they had their furs on, and it looked
he might come, some day; who knows? That is so comical, my dear, that we had to laugh at
the way he rode away, just forty years ago." them. They had come to visit us, they said. But
Who was he, Aunt Betty ? Tell me all about they had wandered into the grounds and could not
him." find their way out. The oldest, whose name was
"He was only my foster-brother. You see, Fanny, was very pretty, and we became friends at
my dear, I was an adopted child. My father and once."
mother died when I was a little baby, so little that "The years went along and we were very happy.
I have never been able to remember them. My One morning his father called me into the library
father's partner owned this house, and he adopted me. and told me that it was nonsense for me to think of
So he and I grew up together. He was two years marrying him; that my fortune had all been lost in

_. ~- --: _________

_ ''_ .

.1 '-, q ,.-o
z_____ I.j:IIIIJI !!I'(I 5, 1:' -.

--_____ _- ,

_. iI .N',,
_____ -I~II
____ _._-___ '-'

-w it ""'
W 1111MI 'IIN1111i9~~61~-~

-- __ IIII Nil"
_--- :.. -~ ,,,,.. ... ,

Ii ~ i~i''.'

Illi' ''! i I 1
:[ ..: _I/_ ',.'

,~ic,>,, -:-

-:~ mPk-6~;i~ll'.llll -,,"1 ,lll:,CI


the business; and that Fanny was very rich, and he "And did he come back from the city?" asked I,
must marry her. My heart was nearly broken, my softly.
dear," continued Aunt Betty-she was really crying "He did not go to the city at all," said she; "at
now-" but I said not a word. I hurried away to least not to that city. He went to the coast town,
find him. He told me they would never make him and in a great ship he sailed for England. He
marry Fanny; that he would run away first and wrote us that, but the ship has not been heard
never come back. Then he rushed in to his of since. But who knows," said she-looking at the
father, and. they must have had a quarrel, for I road-" that he is dead. He may come back some
heard them talking very loud." day."
"The next morning he was to go away to the city. "And where are his father and mother ? asked I.
Fanny's family had moved there long before. I arose "They both died, grieving over the loss of their
early, and made him a cup of coffee myself, for I son. They had lost all their property, but an old
knew best just how he liked it. He ate his friend of my father bought the big house. He
breakfast, kissed me good-by, mounted his horse and has been abroad many years, and he lets me live
rode off down the road." here."
Aunt Betty stopped and looked away off to the It was nearly dark now, and I kissed Aunt Betty
turn in the road as if she saw him still. good-night and ran home.



BOBBY BoLToN was certainly a pretty boy. He were great friends, and grandpa always stood by
had great blue eyes, and his hair had once hung him in everything. When his grandma said it
in long golden curls all round his head, but that was was too bad that he should have lost his pretty
a long time, a very long time, ago. Let me see. It is curls," grandpa said, Pooh Pooh! he has some-
now near Christmas, and Bobby wore his curls on thing else to think of besides curls."
the last Fourth of July, for he got them so tangled Bobby was on a visit at grandpa's house up
that it took his mother ___ __ among the big hills. They
half an hour to comb them had been out together all
out. the afternoon, climbing the
After the Fourth of hills and frightening the
July, it was so almost young rabbits in the
every day, and then when copses. They had come
they were combed all .- -->- back quite tired out, and
right at night, they would after their tea they sat on
be nearly as bad in the the big front porch to
morning. Finally Bobby rest.
made such a fuss about "How old are you,
the combing, that the curls grandpa?" asked Bobby.
wer cut off. He looked I am sixty-four. Now
very queer at first, and his i. I how old are you, Bobby ? "
sister laughed at him; but .i o I am five. That's
Bobby said: "Curls were h: most as old as you are,
made for girls-not for e'."i'n' l isn't it ? "
boys-and I want to be a "Not so much differ-
boy. I'll be a man soon, i ence," said his grandpa;
and then how will I look only fifty-nine years, and
with long curls ? that is very soon passed.
Bobby, as I said, was a ---- I can remember very well
good-looking boy. He when I was five years old,
could write too, but he and it really seems only a
had got no farther than few weeks ago."
B. His sister was older "There is no use in
than he, and she could being so old, anyhow,"
make the whole alphabet. said Bobby. It don't
When she would laugh at Bobby and say he could make you any stronger, for you had to sit down to
only make B, he would prove that she was wrong rest half way up the hill, and I wasn't tired a bit."
by taking his slate and making two Bs like this: If he had made the two B's then, his sister would
B B. have said they meant Boasting Bobby.
This, he said, spelled his name, Bobby Bolton. "Now, grandpa," he went on, "I'm not going to
This was all he knew about spelling; for how can wait till I am as old as you. I'm going to be a man
anybody spell anything with two Bs ? His mother right away and go off."
would sometimes tell him that they stood for Bad Where in the world are you going to ? said his
Bobby, but grandpa said they stood for Bold grandpa, opening his eyes wide; "and what are
Bobby. Bobby liked to visit his grandpa. They you going to do ? "


O, I think I'll buy a big ship and go round and old mother deer was always very tame, and every
round the world." day, when I sat here on the porch, she would come
"But that will cost a great deal of money," said and put her head in my lap and talk to me."
grandpa. People don't go sailing around the Grandpa, is this a fairy story, or a real story ?"
world for nothing, as you and I go rambling around "It is a real story; there's not a fairy in it," said
the hills. The ships go for cargoes, which they his grandpa.
bring home and sell." "I thought real deer talked only in the fairy
"I will do that too. Every time that I come stories. Real deer don't talk."
home, I will bring a ship full of oranges, and Tommy Oh, yes they do, only some people don't know it,
Camp and his sister will buy them all at two cents because they cannot understand it. You see, Bobby,
apiece. They buy every big orange they see, if it they don't talk just as we do, and so most people
only costs two cents, think they do not
for they say oranges i talk at all. There
are cheap at that." are some folks who
"They are not want others to do
the only people who just as they do, or
buy things because they cannot under-
they are cheap," standit. Now dogs
said his grandpa. I and deer, and most
"But now listen to n / other animals, talk

you are getting very / but with their eyes
old, and I know and ears mostly, and
,ou ,r very sai and ears mostly, n
you are very smart, i sometimes with their
and have plenty of ta is ande ven
courage. But tell their noses."
me now, when it "I aee now what
came night, who you mean," said
would undress you Bobby. "When I
and put you to bed ? am going out, Gip
And in the morning comes to me and
who would brush wags his tail, and
your hair and but- then I know he
ton your clothes ?" wants to go too; but if I say no, he goes back
O, I could do all that well enough. I shall have directly."
to do it some day. Why, in my book there is a That's it. Now you know how the old mother
picture of a boy only half as big as my thumb, who deer talked to me. She used to like to have a chat
went all over the world. If he could do it, why every day, because I was the only person who could
can't I? I think I11 start to-morrow," said pompous understand. It's lucky I did understand deer talk,
Bobby. "Don't tell mamma anything about it, for or I couldn't tell you this story, for they told it all
she'd say no, right away. She always does say no, to me and to nobody else."
when I want to do things as the men do. I wanted "While the fawn was young, I held it in my lap
a sharp ax to cut down the trees with, but she said and petted it, but as it grew, it became quite wild,
I must not, so papa wouldn't get it for me." and would scamper away when I came near. But
Well, we will talk more about it to-morrow," said this was only for fear, probably, for sometimes it
his grandpa. "Do you see that deer down there, would come and talk to me too. While the
with the fawn standing beside her ? I will tell you fawn was rollicking about the lawn, the mother
something about them. Both of them were born would come to me on the porch, and say she was
here, and I think a great deal of them both. The sorry that it was so wild. And she would call

w" )hr, "I,"Q
,-"'-"*,..--"v -

-,' -4
..( yL
]] g -" 'I -" ' ,' .. -.. ,>1.- 4 ,-.
:, I

". : "N ,. :' , 7 o, .
4t'- N L--
'ii i
-.. - ') "7 -. ,, ..

-t .
"1 _,.- ,--- "' -- _0

-.. _- ,. : ..., ,

,. 'I; L~C .~~"--- ,- -

,, , .- (,.-
1- ...I
-': .-i--
  • _i ,. ,: ,
    . ,... ........ .... "- -r -

    I '[

    '. .7 i _
    i :" -. I r. ---I '
    ,; -- il -- -
    ', -",i jl vi, I_ "

    'II ,i

    "Y ~~_ ~....~ 1~...
    '" ",, .." I . .
    .. .. ,,.

    -. _.7" -- '
    -- ..._.r.
    -~. ._., .- .1'; P.-_ .""- -
    ,'-': .,_ l .i -" -_. -

    R UNA WA Y FAWN: 9

    it tenderly and ask it to come to us, but the 'and I can be my own master, and go and come
    fafiwn would kick up his heels, toss his head and run at my own will.'
    off.' "'But you will find no friend there to love you as
    One day, the fawn told his mother that he was I do. Indeed, you will not find so true a friend as
    tired of staying in the grounds and that he had our old master here, who pets us and feeds us, and
    made up his mind to go off and see the world. He would be very much grieved if you should go away.'
    had heard somehow, you see, that there were wild "' Of what use is his love and care, if he will not
    deer in the forest over the hill, that could run about let me do as I please ? If I should ask him to let
    at will and were not enclosed by hedges. Perhaps me have a run in the forest, he would say "No," so
    they had run to the top of the hill some day and I will not ask him; and I don't want you to tell him
    called to him and told him all about it. At all that I'm going. I am almost as old as you, and
    events he knew about them, and had determined to quite able to take care of myself. I know where
    go to them and be a wild deer. there is a weak spot in the hedge, and to-morrow
    -" That is but a foolish fancy,' said the mother morning I'm going to break through and go away.'
    deer. How much better off would you be in the My dear child,' said the mother, there is not
    forest Here you have all the food you require, so much difference in our ages, and still less in our
    plenty of room to run about in, and a good house respective sizes, but I have learned some things that
    to sleep in at uil1t.' y,:o have n.-t. If our master keeps the hedge thick
    -" I cenu get all that iu the fre;t,' said the fawn, and hi.h, it is because it is for our good. There are
    wild animals prowling about the
    .. .f orest that might hurt us. My
    mother used to tell me horrible
    stories about wolves, and once, when
    I was a very little fawn, I heard
    them howling in the night. But
    we were in a good house, and the
    door was closed and barred, so my
    Smother said there was not the least
    danger. But I trembled all night,
    thinking of what would have hap-
    S" opened to us if we had not been shut
    .. up. But this is not all. No sports-
    ''" *'.. .: man comes here with his gun. Even
    S the dogs go right past us without
    offering to harm us; but over the
    hill in the forest the poor deer are
    k --hunted and shot. I have heard the
    S. hounds baying and the rifles crack-
    ing many a time.'
    "'I can run faster than the hounds,'
    ,:: ",said the foolish fawn.
    S"' And this is not all, either,' con-
    tinued the old deer, not heeding the
    interruption. 'Over in the forest,
    S :. there grows a laurel which is sweet
    '_. to the taste, but is very poisonous.
    The wild deer are taught not to
    touch it; but how would you know ?
    We can eat anything we find here


    with perfect safety; for master is very wise, and grass like that on the lawn at home. But it was
    you may be sure he would have no poison laurel in the laurel that he had eaten at first, and he became
    his grounds.' very sick. He lay down and groaned with the pain,
    "The old deer thought she had said enough, and, and thought he would die. He was dreadfully
    as the sun had set, they went to bed. While thirsty, but he could find no water. He would have
    she was making her toilet in the morning, the fawn given all his liberty for a drink from the old trough.
    broke through the hedge and went off over the hill. He was very weak, but he tottered along till he
    As soon as the old deer found it out, she came went quite through the forest. Away off across the
    and told me. She cried piteously, and called and fields he saw a sheepfold, and there he was sure he
    called, but the fawn was too far off to hear." could find water. When he reached it he was just

    ,, ,

    I /"

    "That was folly," said Bobbie. "What became ready to fall. He looked in at the window and saw
    of the fawn ? Did the hunters shoot him ?" a little girl with a sick lamb in her arms, and she
    "Not so bad as that," said his grandpa, "for was giving it warm milk from a bottle. He would
    there he is at this moment with his old mother, have asked her for some milk, but there were two
    The first thing that the fawn did was to run as fast great dogs beside her, and how would they know
    and as far as he could. He had to stop to rest at that he was not a wild deer ? He crept away softly
    last, and then he felt very hungry. He found some and went to a large house in the distance. In the
    nice green leaves, of which he took a mouthful or yard were some children playing. As he peeped
    .two. Then he thought about the laurel, and he through the fefice it began to rain, the ducks flapped
    stopped eating the leaves at once, and found some about in a little puddle, and the children did not

    molest them in the least, al-
    though one saucy old drake
    caught a little girl by the dress
    and nearly tore it.
    "But they were all at home,
    the ducks and the children, and
    they were too well acquainted w
    to harm each other. He felt so
    faint for a sip of the water in
    the puddle that the fawn for-
    got that he was a stranger, and
    he went around to the gate. =i,
    But the moment the children :
    saw him they all clapped their ': Lth
    hands and cried to the men in a
    distant field : Hurry and bring
    a gun Quick i here is a wild
    deer !' 'True enough,' thought
    *the fawn, 'I preferred to be a
    wild deer;' and he went away
    as fast as he could.
    How he wished that he had \' '
    not left his good home, where
    he had plenty of water, and -
    where everybody knew him and /
    treated him kindly He would
    have gone straight back now,
    but he did not know the way. '
    Some dogs went coursing across ./
    the field and he crouched low
    in the grass, trembling with
    weakness and fear. Then he
    crept along till he came to a /'//
    house in which was a sick pig. I 6r-
    The pig invited him to lie down __,_ V__,
    in the straw, and, by grunting
    and sniffing, gave him to understand that his master rascal "-and here he looked at Bobbie out of Ihe
    would soon come with drink. In a few minutes the corner of his eye-" if it hadn't been for his mother,
    master did come with a bottle of milk like the one for I knew that he would come back if he wasn't
    with which the girl had fed the lamb. The pig sucked killed. But the old mother moaned so much that I
    away with great satisfaction, while the fawn felt that finally said: 'Come on, and we'll try to find the
    he was dying for want of a drop or two. As soon foolish fellow.' And we did find him, and brought
    as the man saw the fawn, he whistled for his dog so him home, and here he has been glad enough to stay
    sharply that the fawn found strength enough to ever since. But I declare, it is past your bedtime,
    bound away. so kiss me good-night."
    He ran till he fell in a field of grass, quite ex- The next morning Bobbie crept into his grandpa's
    hausted, and there we found him the next day." lap and said: "Let's go up the hill."
    Who went with you to find him? asked Bobbie. What about the big ship? ." said grandpa.
    "His mother, of course," said his grandpa. "I "I guess I won't go," said Bobbie. "I've been
    wouldn't have gone at all for the young runaway thinking about the fawn, grandpa."

    THE story of Baby May is not a long one, but she didn't care much about them. But the lamp was
    thought at one time it was a very sad one. She wonderfully pretty, and she reached out her hand
    does not think so now, but now she is no longer for it at once. When she could not .reach it, she
    Baby May but Miss May. She is almost grown up, cried like everything, and nurse had to call her
    and she goes to school, and is in the second class up- mamma before she would be quiet.
    stairs, and studies grammar. She was always smart, Now I can't tell what she could want the lamp
    even when she was Baby May, and was always dis- for, except to put in her mouth, where she did put
    covering new things. everything she could get hold of. Who ever taught
    The first thing that Baby May discovered was the Baby May such a funny trick as that I don't know.
    lamp that was burning on the table. Not that the Indeed, I don't know who taught her to take hold
    lamp was the first thing she ever saw; but the other of things at all, for nurse and mamma were always
    things she seemed to take as a matter of course, and taking things away from her. But she grasped with
    her hands everything that was
    within her reach, which shows how
    smart she was even then.
    Baby May grew till she was big
    enough to stand on her feet, only
    you had to hold on tight to her.
    Then she tried to talk, and that was
    a dreadful hard thing for her to do.
    It must have been because she had
    no teeth; for she hadn't a single
    tooth in her mouth then, and as soon
    as she had some teeth, she began to
    say words quite plainly.
    She kept growing bigger and
    bigger, and she was the most cunning
    baby and the smartest baby that
    ever was. Her mamma said so, her
    papa said so, and nurse and every-
    body who saw her, so it must have
    been so. But she could cry-Oh,
    how she could cry! You could hear
    her across the street. Then her
    mamma would send for the doctor.
    He said it showed that she had good
    lungs; and he told her to look for a
    pin in her clothes. That made
    nurse awful mad, and she said she
    would never have him for a doctor.
    But I think it was really a pin, for
    so sensible a baby as she was would
    not cry for nothing.
    Another thing should be men-

    ,, -" "":-". -- '_--" ';---: --- I ~ ?-/2 ":,, --- --1--_--. .-I--- ;,-:~-
    :.. "
    li---'ii'-- "'=- -" -- '"-:='I '
    I -.~. .. '- _--- .1: --- .- :--
    ,, L -: ...." -sh-lp ' : ': "
    *. ,-
    -- a ., r j

    '.' RO'

    l' V

    V ____ ,: .. ', : II'' :
    !' .... -- " "i! ,= = c..u-.: : & ,

    I *'* *--- 4. -- 'I _'_____ 'II,
    ; '.- "': j'

    I i lik
    V .1- I.. .1 _."' : __
    1, i, 4 '

    -- : L.... ,
    ,----=- '- ;- ..

    -- _J 5 ,.
    .F ,, ', ,
    i ~~~; ," ,' .:i: I
    '' i ,i I ',

    ? r 'Tr.- '~ '. ,~ IT,' ,r -
    ., ;r ; .:;,

    1 ii 1Ill


    I ,i /
    : !, ~,I':',, '': i~,,: i'
    lill '1 II l id
    -~" r=

    "_V .'--=_ .= - _- _ .- _._ -- .= d--

    14 BABY MAY.

    i' / //' r '' was making new dresses for her. And when
    -i' she began to play out-of-doors, and it came to
    p,. shoes, her mamma had to speak about them so
    S i' often that her papa, one night, asserted that
    SI i, she wore out more shoes than a regiment of
    4. soldiers. If I were not telling a true story of
    I ''i i "II Baby May, I suppose this would never be
    M"j. j believed. But these were her father's very
    i 1 ',I 'words, and there is no reason in the world why
    Si, L he should not be believed. I don't know my-
    It I I' [ self how many shoes a regiment of soldiers can
    '!' wear out, but her papa knew, and that's what
    S" he said. If there was nothing else to show that
    J ;Baby May was wonderful, this would make it
    clear, I am quite sure.
    S_- Now Baby May wanted somebody to play
    S with. Of course, there were the children who
    l-ived in the house across the way. But they
    6A ". A/...--- ....._.'.. ",s ...... 1 were all the time complaining that Baby took
    their things, and saying that they would tell
    tioned because it was quite remarkable. Baby their mamma. What Baby wanted was somebody
    May would be held all the time. She would make who would not quarrel in that way, and who could
    nurse take her on her lap and dance her up and be with her all the time, on rainy days as well as
    down for hours at a time. Nurse said she never pleasant days. There was Ida, who lived down the
    saw a baby that wanted to be held so much. Nurse street, who used to come and play with her some-
    had seen hundreds of babies in her time, so Baby times. She had a little brother-why should not
    May must have been the most remarkable of them Baby May have one ? She asked her mamma that
    all. night, and her mamma said perhaps Santa Claus
    Well, she grew, and she kept growing until would bring her a little brother.
    she could walk, and then she became really
    wonderful. If she had never been remarkable
    before, she was certainly so when she began -'li I
    to walk. Her mamma said that no baby had i "
    ever learned so quick; her papa said she had ii
    the strongest legs he ever saw; Aunt Jane t
    declared that she walked more gracefully than -
    a young lady. This was not all-she was one '
    of their family, and people always speak well
    of their own relation-but nurse said not
    another child living got so many bumps, and I
    when the doctor was called in again one day i N-"
    to see if her nose was broken, he declared that r.. 1 ,
    she Was the toughest baby that ever was
    born. So she was a wonderful child in many
    Then she kept on growing, which was not so
    strange, for all babies grow, but she must
    have grown faster than other babies, for her _
    mamma mentioned it nearly every day, as she -

    BABY MAY. 15

    The next day, as nurse was taking her out for a One day she played with Ida and her brother
    walk, they passed the church door. A great crowd till the sun set. She was not permitted to stay out
    was coming out, and nurse stopped to talk with the after sunset, so she hurried home. She was tired and
    ladies. Baby May had heard them say that they fretful, and as she clattered through the hall she called
    had been to the christening. One of the ladies loudly for her mamma. When she felt tired she
    came to May and said: Jennie Gray has a new always wanted her mamma to take her in her lap, and
    brother. You may have one some day." This sing softly to her and call her Baby May, for she


    61 1

    body knew it. well, from hearing them talk, that she was quite

    When she was alone in her room that night, she remarkable.
    thought it all over and over and she resolved to ask But now, instead of her mamma, Aunt Fanny came
    Santa Claus to bring her a brother. So she went hurrying down the stairs and said, "Sh Sh !" and
    close to the grate and whispered it up the chimney then she led her away to her room and told her that
    as loud as she could, without letting nurse hear. she must be very quiet, for she had a little brother.
    Nurse was in the next room, and Baby thought O, I'm so glad," said Baby May. What is his
    she would laugh at her if she heard. I think name? Tell him to come right here; I'll give him
    Suite likely that she would, for she laughed at half of my playthings and he can play with me till
    many things that Baby did and said. we go to bed."
    Y tbe."

    ''''',: I!'Jill

    h!"r~ b1:~~~

    wany\ things that Bab~y did and said. we go to bed."

    16 BABY MAY

    He has no name yet," said Aunt Fanny. "We They finally let her go in softly to look at him
    shall have to give him one. He's only a wee little while he was asleep, and she kissed his pink cheek.
    baby, and he must stay with mamma. Now be very She did not want to go out to play that day; she
    quiet and I will send nurse to you." Then Aunt thought she would rather wait till brother grew big
    Fanny left her, and there she sat all alone, enough to go with her. She busied herself about
    So she had a little brother at last, but he wasn't the house, and kept very quiet as all the rest did.
    of much use, if he couldn't play with her. Never Aunt Fanny said now that she had a brother she
    mind; she was glad enough to have a brother if he was not to be Baby any more, and that grieved her
    was only a little baby. He would grow and be as a little-and she was going to pout, but Aunt Fanny
    ....... i. .. .,,..-":: kissed her so lovingly that the pout went away. So
    -" ... ^:' ':' ...... :she held the skein while Aunt Fanny wound the
    yarn, and said she didn't care to be a baby anyway.
    S~.B' '?- : But then nurse must come in and have a fling at
    '' '. her, saying that she would have to be a young lady
    S: now, and brush her own hair. How could she be
    a young lady all at once? She knew that she
    -_ couldn't, and she didn't want to, for what would
    then be the use of having a brother to play with?
    In the afternoon, in came the old doctor. She
    _.I .never did like him, for his medicine was always bit-
    Ster, and he always said she was his girl, when he
    V.I knew she wasn't. He came bustling in and said,
    SAha! my miss, your nose is out of joint and never
    Sill get straight again." Then they all laughed, as
    S'though he had said something very funny.
    Her little brother grew amazingly, and though
    he was not big enough to play with her, he was
    big enough to take all the attention. When May
    wanted nurse to do anything, she would refuse
    Because of the baby. She had to go to bed with-
    out being rocked, because mamma was holding
    the baby. When papa came home he kissed the
    Baby first, and when the ladies called they went
    straight to him and didn't notice May at all. In
    fact, my story should stop here, for there was no
    SBaby May any more.
    SBut the strangest part is to come. All the won-
    derful things about Baby May left her and went to
    Sheer baby brother. He was now the fattest, the
    big as herself some day, and then she would not best natured, and, as he began to walk, the strongest
    have to go to Ida's house to play. Nurse would and most graceful baby in the whole world. He
    come in a minute and tell her all about it. got more bumps than Baby May ever did, and cried
    But nurse did not come for a long while; she had louder and longer. When he began to go out of
    never been so neglected before, and she could not doors, his papa said that he wore out twice as many
    understand it. She sat there thinking about it till shoes, so he must have worn out more than two
    she fell fast asleep in her chair. Then, when nurse did regiments of soldiers. May now goes to school, as
    come, she was too sleepy to eat her supper. we have said, and she agrees with them all that her
    She slept very soundly all night, and in the morn- little brother is the most wonderful brother that
    ing the first thing she thought of was her brother, any girl ever had.

    g- -A A -0

    "-. .I .. .j ^. ',- -. ." .
    '* P Lw ^Siif^ S:./ *

    ...,'r 'l. .
    C-, -< -, "i'- !


    ,: : ; .
    +..s N~ .. ---.. )
    >.t,) ~~~ ~ s : I r .', :
    ,. .. - : .. :, '.'-. . "" ,1.
    .. ... . . .....
    EN)S -:, ;a- ! 9"
    . --'_ :. .
    "-~ ~~~~~~ -..-- e_"- ,)LI,-,
    ~ ~ ~ 4 ""/C ,', '":- ..:,!
    ~~~~~~~~,: ... -,'n'3..__- .,



    NOT far from where I sit, as I write this story, themselves, and so pass by the school every day
    there is the most wonderful school in the world. It without seeing it. He says many things to his
    has a branch, I think, in every neighborhood. At pupils that sound droll, but are really wise. Selfish-
    all events, there is a class so near to the home of ness, he says, is a kind of blindness, for he who has
    every little boy and girl that all may attend who it can see only himself; and even this sight is de-
    really wish to. But notwithstanding the school is fective, for it makes self appear so exaggerated and
    so handy to all, many boys and girls grow up with- distorted, that it constantly leads its owner into
    out getting any advantages from it. In fact, many difficulties. So there is no kind of blindness so
    people go right past it every day of their lives, and dangerous and troublesome as this.
    get to be old men and women, without ever seeing A curious thing about this school is, that when
    the school at all, though, as I say, it is really the one is regularly enrolled as a pupil, he has to enter
    most wonderful school in the world, and no one ever the Infant Class, no matter how big, nor how old he
    gets along well in the business of life who has not is, nor how much he may know about arithmetic
    attended it. and grammar. If Barnum's big giant should apply,
    The old schoolmaster who presides over it is re- if he could not answer the questions at the examina-
    markable for his age and for his kindness; so it is tion, he would have to go into the Infant Class. The
    not for fear of being ill-treated that people stay Lightning Calculator would not find his rapid adding
    away. The old schoolmaster says it is simply be- and multiplying of any use to him. The old school-
    cause of their laziness or their selfishness. Those master is very particular about the eyes, and the
    who are too lazy will not take the trouble to attend; very first question is: How well can you see
    and those who are too selfish are looking only at things? I know what would happen to the giant.


    them, the better he likes them. But
    he says that books are of no value
    Whatever if they are not read
    properly. If they teach us some-
    Ol w thing about ourselves, or about the
    Great world in which we live, they
    Share valuable. If they show us how
    d Ca ..f I to find out things for ourselves, they
    peopT are valuable. But if he finds a
    book in the school that doesn't do
    these, or one that makes a pupil
    Discontented, or unhappy, or deceit-
    ful, or only sleepy and dull, he hides
    Ml ait away immediately. If lie finds a
    --i-o- pupil studying a %ook because he
    is obliged to, he takes the book
    .. away, no matter how good it is; for
    u p he says he will not have a good book
    M lt insulted in that way. A book, to be
    of any service at all, must be wanted;
    v ,' p and there are too many children
    S, who want books, to have them
    ". ; wasted on any one who doesn't want
    & them.
    ShAs I have said, there are branches
    .' ',of this wonderful school in every
    neighborhood, and the pupils are
    Sti ctu' e taken from one branch to another to
    learn their lessons. The school-
    .. .......:" master has a great number of books
    S-.and pictures which he uses to take his
    -_ _pupils all around the world. Some-
    times he takes them among the birds
    and shows how they can be tamed,
    He would say: "I can see over the heads of all the so that they will perch on one's hand. Sometimes
    people, for I am the tallest giant in the world." he will take a class to the banks of a great river,
    Then the old schoolmaster would say : "That won't and show how the water flows on night and day to
    do. Can you see what is under the feet of the the great ocean. Then it becomes necessary to show
    people as well ? Do you know where the flies and how the water gets back to the springs and streams
    the crickets live in winter ? And can you see into on the hillsides that make the great river. The pu-
    people as well as over their heads? Can you tell pils have only to look at the clouds that are flying
    what makes them happy and what makes them overhead, and perhaps consult their books for a few
    unhappy ?Z" If the giant could not answer these and minutes, and that lesson is learned. No time is
    a lot more such questions satisfactorily, he would wasted in recitations in this school, for after a little
    have to go into the Infant Class. .while the lessons become so interesting that all are
    Not that the old schoolmaster despises books. sure to learn them, and once learned they are never
    On the contrary, he thinks a great deal of them, forgotten. There are but few examinations after
    and all the pupils who can afford it are obliged to the first, for the pupils are permitted to promote
    have them. And the more pictures there are in themselves as often as they like.


    Once in a while, however, the master tests a pupil, he is a sensible man, says the master, he will never
    especially if he has noticed any inattention or care- get blind any more; but if he is foolish, the blind-
    lessness. There was an instance of a boy who ness may come back again.
    thought he had learned how the birds fly. He was Sometimes the children will have a regular flower
    permitted to show what he knew, and he made him- day. They will go to the woods and the fields and
    self wings and jumped off the shed, thinking he gather the most curious plants and the most beautiful
    could fly away like a bird. But he tumbled down blossoms and bring them to the schoolmaster.
    to the ground and broke a leg.
    That was because he had not ~" "
    learned his lesson thoroughly. '
    As a matter of fact, I know that il a
    he had played truant a good
    part of the term, and so had not n.
    learned the lesson at all. He
    had only heard the other boys
    talk about it, whereas it is a rule ,
    of the school that every one must s a i d
    learn for himself. i
    The schoolmaster is very fond -
    of flowers, and he points out so I
    many curious and lovable things I A *
    about them that all the boys and
    girls in the school-room learn to h
    love them as well as he. It
    grieves the old master to see so '
    many people going through the
    world without noticing the flowers,
    and he says no one shall go through
    his school and remain flower-iF.
    blind. This blindness, he says, is I."'
    one form' of the selfish blindness,
    and is very apt t: lead to a more :
    serious disease of the heart, mak-
    ing it cold and hard and unhappy. -
    I am quite sure that the master
    is right, for I have noticed that
    people who do not love flowers
    are apt to be sour-faced and hard-
    When people go on for years
    doing nothing for this blindness, --_.
    the master says it is very difficult
    to cure them. Sometimes it takes a severe fit of Children who have not been to this school can
    sickness, and perhaps no chronic case can be cured never find the flowers half as easily as these
    by any other means. But let a person be confined pupils do, for they have sharp eyes, and no nook or
    by sickness for weeks, and the cataracts fall from his corner escapes them. When they discover a new
    eyes, and he begins to love flowers, and to want flower, they are as pleased as one of the old Spanish
    them near him. He begins to see a good many explorers must have been when he discovered a new
    other things, too, that he has never seen before. If island. When they have gathered their flowers,


    they come to the school in a long procession, as are all as learned in their way as the master
    happy as the birds that are singing to them from himself.
    the branches of the trees overhead. The schoolmaster As the little boys and girls come around, they all
    is ready to meet them, as pleased as they, for he make a polite bow, for politeness is one of the things
    never is so happy as when they bring him something that are taught very thoroughly. Indeed, it is a
    new to examine. One or more of his assistants part of almost every lesson. When the master
    stand by him to assist. I could not tell you how takes the flowers and points out the beautiful colors
    many assistants there are in the school, and they that no painter can copy, and the outlines which ar-
    tists study, the tender petals
    that bear the delicate seeds,
    and the slender stems that are
    so strong, the children all
    gather around and love their
    flowers more than ever. If I
    had the time I could tell you
    of many wonderful things that
    the pupils find beside flowers,
    but the master says that the
    S most wonderful thing of all is
    a child who dislikes the school.
    I found such a boy not long
    ago, although the master says
    _ such boys are very rare.
    This boy actually did not
    want to go to the school. When
    his mother took him, the master
    was very sad about it. But be
    said it was because the boy
    -\ __ did not know enough about
    the school. As soon as he saw
    what pleasure there was in
    its lessons, his mother would
    have no more trouble with
    I declare my time is up, and
    I have not told you the name
    of the school. Some folks call
    it simply the Children's School;
    in French they call it Ecole
    des Enfants, because the master
    takes things to pieces, and
    shows the causes of every-
    thing, the Germans call it Der
    Kindergarten, but I call it the
    Observation School.

    -j ;I-I
    ----- -
    II, '

    P i
    'I !Ii -- -

    II I ";- -:'--

    III 1111 I4

    ;~~, ',,, ,~~~~~~~

    _~ ~ _. _


    Turs is two stories in one, but I tell them to- much oftener than Carl did, and was more fre-
    gether because they are so different. Carl and Ben- quently absent from school.
    nie were cousins. They lived near to each other, Like a good many other falsehoods, however, it
    and went to the same school. Carl was only a had a grain of truth in it, for Carl was a favorite,
    month older than Bennie, and for a while they were in not only with the teachers, but also with the other
    scholars. Indeed, they all liked him so
    well that Bennie's lie, notwithstand-
    ing its grain of truth, did not do as
    much harm as such lies often do. If you
    give alie a single leg to stand on, it will
    strut about and show itself to more peo-
    ple, and make a grander display than the
    truth with two good legs. But this false-
    hood of Bennie's did no harm except to him-
    self. As soon as he had told it, he began
    to lose his self-respect, and when a person
    does that, he grows worse and worse.
    The prominent traits about Carl were
    that he was truthful, careful and attentive.
    He was not only truthful to others, but he
    was also truthful to himself, and that is a
    great thing. He was careful of every-
    thing belonging to others, and careful of
    himself too. Both of the boys had been
    taught by loving mothers what was right
    and what was wrong. But Bennie was
    just as careless about this lesson as about
    those which he had to learn in school.
    Carl remembered it, because he was care-
    ful about everything.
    It did not take long for people outside
    to find out the difference between the
    two boys, just as the teachers and children
    had found out at the school, and very
    soon it was a common thing for Carl to
    to get the smiles while Bennie got the
    frowns. Now it was true that Carl was
    promoted because he was a favorite, as in-
    the same class. Finally Carl got promoted and Ben- deed he was with everybody, and everybody stood
    nie was left behind, and from that day till now Carl ready to assist him. Bennie was disposed to grumble
    has been ahead. At first Bennie sniveled and said at this too, but it was all his own fault. People like
    Carl was promoted because he was a favorite of best to help those who try to help themselves, and
    the teacher. Now this was not true, and Bennie Bennie wouldn't try to do that. It was plain to see
    knew it, for he knew that lie failed in his lessons that the boys were now traveling different roads.

    I /,I I1 ,i1' P pI' l
    IIIII, all',",1',, ;;I"
    I -- I P,1,

    III' 'li l


    _..___ _
    1l Alh ,
    I hil'
    h' I H

    +....~ ~ ~ ~ ~.. ... .... .::ll]''', ,, ,,,
    . -I'i illi' ~lit',


    Z-J fit
    ,',... ': ..... ..., '"-

    '-" . ; .

    ,. + --'---. .; ,' -
    -:a.-... .
    i Y+
    !++[ !Il+ If+" + +,,, + +....
    4 ill, ...., ,
    ,,,,4 ', ...

    ... ___ ----:-_ .. -- -
    _ = ,-~ +.--_ _--~-==+_-}


    Carl was fond of everything that was beautiful, One summer there came to the little town where
    and after he had learned his lessons he would sit they lived a sculptor who had become famous. He
    and hear the birds sing, and see the branches of the had been to Italy, and to France, and England, and
    trees wave in the summer breeze. By so much everywhere the newspapers spoke of his arrival,
    looking at pretty things he began to wish to draw and told what he was doing as a matter of national
    them. It was hard work at first, to draw even a importance. If you have read all that I have said
    .,... .. about Carl and Bennie, you
    will not be surprised to
    learn that the great artist
    took no notice of Bennie
    i- at all. But the boy who
    ;I was out in the shade of the
    Sbig elm every afternoon,
    working patiently with his
    S. pencils and brushes, at-
    tracted his attention at
    ...... .. .. :: .once. It did not take them
    long to become acquainted,
    .. for Carl reminded the
    artist of his own boy-
    ,. hood.
    By careful attention and
    patient practice, which the
    sculptor said were needed
    Suite as much as a knife or
    a chisel, Carl improved very
    fast. The sculptor called
    'him his little pupil, Care-
    Sful Carl.
    When the sculptor went
    away, he insisted upon tak-
    ..ing Carl with him to Italy,
    and he went, and became
    as great a sculptor as his
    I said I was telling two
    stories, so I suppose I shall
    have to tell more about
    Bennie. When Carl went
    away, Bennie felt very bad,
    .for he very much wanted
    --- to go to Italy too. So he
    sharpened his knife, and
    leaf so that it would look like the real one, and thought he would be a sculptor. But he cut
    when it came to flowers, it was harder yet to color himself the first thing, and had to give it up.
    them; but Carl was not a boy to be disheartened You see he had been careless too long. The
    by difficulties, so, while Bennie was stoning the people called him Bungling Ben, and he never came
    birds, or climbing the trees to destroy their nests, to anything worth speaking of, but is Bungling
    he would be busy with his pencils and paints. Ben still.

    _ _ __-- -

    HARRY GILL lived near the seashore, and in the would fancy all sorts of things about them, and pict-
    summer he visited it every week with his mother. ure in his mind the countries where they were
    Harry liked to see the great waves roll in, and hear going, the cargoes they were carrying, and even the
    the surf roar after a storm at sea. His uncle had faces of the officers and crew, as they moved about
    been a sea captain, and the first stories that he had the ship. Among the crew he always saw a little boy,
    listened to had been stories of the sea. His uncle and the boy was always wonderfully like himself,
    was away now, and Harry had no one to tell him except that he had on a full rig of sailor clothes.
    such stories; but he would sit on the beach for an No matter what kind of a vessel it was that he saw
    hour at a time and recall them to his mind, and im- through the glass, the boy was always on board.
    agine many new ones besides. The other sailors that he fancied he saw were, for
    His uncle had given him a small telescope, a sea- the most part, like those whom his uncle had told
    glass his uncle called it, and Harry always took it about in his stories, and the countries were also very
    with him when he went to the shore. With it he much like those which his uncle had told about.
    could look far out to sea and tell what kind of ves- As soon as Harry could read well, he hunted
    sels were sailing past, whether they were sloops, or up all the books he could find about sailors and
    schooners, or ships, when without the glass they all the sea, and he particularly liked those that told
    looked alike. He could even see ships that could of storms and shipwrecks. The boy was very
    not be seen with the naked eye at all. Then he seldom in these stories, but Harry, in his imagina-
    with te nakd eyeat all Thenhe sedom i


    tion, would always put him there, and he was a book; but Harry never tried to write them, he
    always a hero, doing more than the strongest sailor, only pictured them in his mind. Seated on the,
    and telling the captain just what it was best to do. stranded bale of cotton, Harry would imagine that
    One day there was a shipwreck not far from he was cast ashore, like Robinson Crusoe, on an
    Harry's home, and that was a great event. Harry island, and was the only survivor of the shipwreck.
    called it a shipwreck, but in sober truth, it was Here I am," he would say to himself, all alone on
    only a sloop that was capsized in a squall. She the island, with nothing but the cotton. But I will
    not starve, for there are grapes on
    Sthe island, and I can plant wheat
    --- 7--- -- -- ---------- ----------"
    ....ad___ o and corn every year. There must
    -- -- be oranges growing somewhere on
    the island, and I shall always have
    S-.---- plenty. Who wants better food
    ---- ---than oranges?" Harry was very
    Sfond of oranges, and he always
    S- thought that Robinson Crusoe
    might have found orange trees if
    ot._.er she had looked for them.
    "I am much better off for
    clothes than Robinson Crusoe
    S was," thought Harry, "for I have
    Spl enty of cotton, of which I can
    make a soft bed, and I will find a
    way to make my clothes of it."
    You will see that Harry's pictures
    were not at all like the reality.
    Cotton might have been of some
    use to Robinson Crusoe, but it
    would have been a hard matter for
    him to have made it into clothes
    Without a spinning-wheel or a
    loom. To Harry the cotton would
    4I 1 have been of no use at all, for he
    was not by any means so ingenious
    Sas Crusoe. But he made his mind
    pictures to suit himself; that's
    why he always put oranges in
    Harry lived near the bank of a
    large river. Boats were constantly
    going to and fro. A railroad ran
    along the shore, but the trains had
    had some bales of cotton on her deck, and when no interest for Harry; but he would sit for hours
    they floated ashore the men hauled them up be- on the river bank and watch the vessels. Frequently
    yond the reach of the tide and left them there a steamboat would come puffing along with a long
    for a few days until they could come with an- string of barges in tow. When they were going up,
    other sloop to take them away. Harry would not watch them so carefully, for he
    While they were there Harry made more stories knew in that direction the river grew narrower and
    than ever. If they could be written they would fill shallower, until it had become a small brook. At


    AK- Ad"'-'l -W-.


    -____ _- = -^- -- -- mother consented to have
    _-.-_- him take a trip in the
    S -- -: _- ~ fisherman's boat. They
    "-.- --- ... sailed away down the river
    S-- --- with a fair wind, and Harry
    --- was never so happy be-
    __ fore. When they came
    down---_ the- ve he wtto the mouth of thd river,
    grea=--_-- oa the fisherman landed and
    told Harry that it looked
    E o-= as though it would storm.
    tik There would certainly be
    a high wind, and it would
    --_ be too rough for him to
    Sgo out on the ocean in the
    -_ fishing boat.
    boat. Ha s f l But Harry was so dis.
    i--,I appointed, and asserted so
    bravely that he would not
    mind the rough sea, that
    _.- the fisherman took him
    along. The fisherman's
    fears about the weather
    were well founded, for it
    soon began to blow very
    hard. The waves grew
    higher and higher, until
    poor Harry became very
    sick. The wind blew them
    farther and farther from
    the land, until the highest
    hills could not be seen.
    Night came on, and Harry
    -.: lay down near where the
    fisherman had to remain to
    steer the boat. But he
    S-could not sleep; he had
    S..never been so sick in his
    life, and he would have-
    neast, that was like the pictures and descriptions in given everything he possessed to be home again.
    his geography. But when the great barges went It was a terrible night, and Harry lay on the bottom
    down the river, he would watch them till they were of the open boat and groaned. Toward morning
    out of sight. In that direction the river went to the the wind abated a little, and Harry felt encouraged
    great ocean; and it was of the sea, and of ships, to ask the fisherman when they would get home.
    and of foreign lands that Harry was constantly The God above only knows," said the old sailor.
    thinking. "I do not know where we are, and sometimes boats
    One day an old fisherman came up the river in his that are blown off in this way are never heard
    boat. Harry's family were well acquainted with from."
    him, and Harry begged so hard that at last his Then Harry thought no more of being a Robinson

    _1 I
    [M gss^ ^ iai. .-i, ..' i*. ,, .

    I Y
    Ii- 't ~= ====:

    1.~ iN4 rF

    th~t1 -'
    :1. --I '. N --7
    '- -., .
    :T \:--_ ,-..'_ "". .{': ..
    -- i" .. .. -_,

    ..'J =_- _.p --'

    Ii i


    -I-, I -..
    r-- ,, ,- .. t

    --: -.-.___.. .s: -:...'


    Crusoe or of telling the captain what to do. He It seemed in Harry's dreams as though the ship
    moaned and cried until it grew light. Then the sailed for weeks and months, and went round and
    fisherman, with his instruments, found out where round the world, but still the wind blew, and there
    they were, and told Harry he thought they would was no land to be seen anywhere that looked like a
    get home safely. The sky finally cleared, the sea desert island with oranges growing on it and a cot-
    became smooth, and Harry fell asleep, ton bale on the shore.
    As he slept, he dreamed that a great vessel had At last, after months and months of sailing, the
    sailed away and had not been heard from, and on it sea grew calm, and the ship was blown straight into
    was one of the boys of his imagination, who looked a beautiful harbor; and there was the boy's ship,
    so much like him. Everybody said he was lost and with her sails all set, and the flag flying, as pretty as
    would never come back again; but Harry thought when she sailed down the river. And there were
    he had only been cast away on a desert island, that the orange trees, and under one of them stood the
    had nothing on it but a bale of cotton and orange boy, in a new suit of sailor's clothes, with an orange
    trees, which hung full of ripe, yellow fruit, in his hand and a school-bag full at his side. He
    Another great ship was fitted out to go in search had made great jars of marmalade and bottles of
    of the boy, and it went sailing down the river with orange wine, and still the trees were full.
    a fair wind. But when it came to the ocean, a great Just then Harry awoke, and found that they were
    storm arose. The waves were as high as the hills sailing on the river, and there was his own house in
    behind Harry's house, and the ship tossed and rolled' plain sight, which they reached in a few minutes.
    as though it would be torn to pieces. Unlike all Harry was dreadfully hungry, and a few of the yel-
    other storms, it would not clear off, but grew fiercer low oranges would have been delicious. But he
    and fiercer. But the ship went on, tossing and roll- never dreamed of the desert island after that, and
    ing, for the boy must be found at all hazards, he never wanted to go to sea.
    71- EE7

    Infor the boy must be found at aill hazards. he: never wanted to go to sea.


    AROUND the fine old mansion was a beautiful gar- ble family, and rich in gold and lands; a bride well
    den, full of all kinds of rare trees and flowers. Out- worth the winning.
    side the garden-by the fence that separated it The young people were amusing themselves on
    from the meadow-stood an immense thistle; an the lawn, playing croquet; they flitted about among
    uncommonly large and fine thistle. No one even the flowers, and each of the young girls gathered
    noticed it, save the old donkey that pulled the milk- one, and put it in one of the gentlemen's button-
    cart for the dairymaids; he stood grazing in the holes; but the young Scotch lady looked all about
    for a flower, but none of them seemed to please her,
    -^ / 'i till, all at once, happening to glance over the fence,
    S- she spied the fine large thistle-bush standing there,
    .- ...... -=-- full of its bluish-red, healthy-looking flowers. She
    saw it, and smiled, and begged the son of the house
    .... ', to get one of them for her.
    .. "That is Scotland's flower," she said; "it grows
    and blossoms in our Arms; that flower give me.'
    And he gathered the finest of the thistle-flowers,
    and pricked his fingers as much in doing so as if it
    :- had been growing on a wild rose-bush.
    SShe took the flower, and put it in his button-hole,
    Sand he felt greatly honored thereby. Each of the
    other young men would gladly have given up his
    graceful garden flower, if he might have worn the
    one given by the delicate hands of the Scotch girl.
    r "It seems I am of more consequence than I
    \. thought," thethistle said to itself; "I ought by rights
    S\ -to stand inside, and not outside the fence; one gets
    strangely placed in this world. But now I have at
    least one of mine over the fence; not onlythere, but
    in a button-hole."
    \;\ .. To every bud that came and opened on the thistle-
    (. bush, it told this great event; and not many days
    '/ had passed before she heard-not from the people
    S* passing, nor yet from the twittering of little birds,
    S- but from the air, that treasures up and gives out
    S.' sounds far and wide-from the most shady walks of
    the beautiful garden, as well as from the most dis-
    meadow hard by, and stretched his old neck to reach tant rooms at "the Hall," where doors and windows
    the thistle, saying: "You are beautiful! I should were left open-that the young man who received
    like to eat you!" but the tether was too short to the thistle-flower from the graceful hands of the
    admit of his reaching the thistle. lonely Scottish maiden, had now got her hand and
    There was company staying at "the Hall "-fine, heart as well.
    aristocratic relations from town; graceful, lovely "That is my doing! said the thistle. "Surely I
    girls; and among them a young lady who had come shall be taken up and planted in the garden now!
    all the way from Scotland. She was of old and no- Perhaps, even, I shall be put in a flower-pot-that is


    by far the most honorable position." And it and all its gorgeousness disappeared, leaving
    thought of this so long, that it ended by saying to only the cup of the flower. The young couple
    itself, with the firm conviction of that being the came along the garden path; they passed near the
    truth: "I shall be planted in a flower-pot!" fence, and the bride, glancing over it, said: "Why,
    It promised to every little bud that came that it there stands the large thistle! It has no flowers
    also should be put in a pot, and perhaps be promoted now."
    to a place in a button-hole-that being the very Yes, there is still the ghost of one-of the last."
    highest one could aspire to-but, notwithstanding, "How beautiful it is !" she said. "We must have
    none of them got into a flower-pot, and still less into such a one carved in the frame of our picture." And
    a button-hole. once more the young man had to get over the fence,
    The flowers drooped and faded, but there always to break off the silvery cup of the thistle-flower.
    came new ones. "You come as if you had been It pricked his fingers for his pains, because he had
    sent here," said the thistle-bush to them. "I am ex- called it a ghost. And then it was brought into the
    pecting every moment to be taken over the fence." garden, and to "the Hall." It was finally thrown
    A couple of harmless daisies, and a huge, thin out, but its memory lives in the carving and in this
    plant of canary-grass, listened to this with deep story.
    respect, and believed all they
    heard. The old donkey-that had L
    to pull the milk-cart-cast long-
    ing looks toward the blooming
    thistle, and tried to reach it-but
    his tether was too short! And `i
    the thistle-bush thought and
    thought, so much and so long, of
    the Scotch thistle-to whom it 6
    believed itself related-that at last
    it fancied that it had come from
    Scotland, and that it was its
    parents who had grown into the
    Scotch Arms.
    The summer passed, and the
    autumn passed; the leaves fell off
    the trees; the flowers came with
    stronger colors and less perfume.
    The young pine trees in the wood
    began to feel a longing for Christ-
    mas-but Christmas was a long
    way off yet !
    "Here I am still," said the
    thistle. It seems that I am quite
    forgotten; and yet it was I who
    made the match They were en-
    gaged, and now they are married-
    the wedding was a week ago."
    Some weeks passed; the thistle
    had its last solitary flower; large
    and full it was, and growing down
    near the root. The wind blew
    coldly over it, the color faded,


    '-- thing that seems strange, it is
    S- v told of in the newspapers and
    eagerly read by thousands. If
    S.o- s m M the newspapers could tell what
    They think, it would appear far
    e to more strange.
    s a. There was nothing about
    Se Maud's appearance that was
    e h t strange. She was neither old nor
    i t b young enough to attract attention,
    for she was about fifteen-too
    j old almost for a child, and not
    old enough yet for a woman.
    Neither was Maud handsome or
    .-,B i Iugly; she was just a good-looking
    ." girl, like hundreds of others. If
    she dressed in costly silks and
    I wore rare diamonds, she would
    attract attention for that. Or if
    she went in rags and tatters,
    people would stop and stare at
    her, and perhaps wonder what
    was the story of her life.
    But Maud was neither in silks
    nor rags; she dressed neatly and
    well, but not showily. Her
    father was rich enough to give her
    all that she really needed in dress,
    as in everything- else, but she
    could not wear satin and dia-
    monds every day. So you will
    see that Maud was, to all appear-
    I_ .,: .*i g j ances, a very ordinary girl. If
    appearances were all, we should
    'IF you should meet Maud Gleason in the street, have no story of her to tell.
    and did not know her as well as I do, you would But Maud had a heart story that is well worth
    take her to be the last person in the world to tell a the telling. With kind friends, indulgent parents,
    story about. But that is not strange, for we meet and everything about her to make her happy, she
    people every day in the street, who look to be was always discontented.
    very commonplace, as though nothing important When she began to go to school she found fault
    ever happened to them; but each one of them has a with her seat and with her teacher; she was certain
    history which might be interesting if it were told that she would be much better in the next class, so
    in a story. she tried hard to learn and be promoted. But when
    We can see what people do, and if they do any- promotion came she found just as much fault with



    ff i=~;~~;'~L'







    her new seat and her new teacher; and so it was all she had not gone to B.; when she went to B., she
    through her school life. Nothing suited her, and the thought D. would be much pleasanter. When she
    older she became the more things she found to com- had visited all the towns that were near by, she
    plain about. If she had a new dress and selected wanted to go farther away. In truth, I think that
    blue, she was sure to be sorry that she had not if she had traveled all over the world, she would not
    chosen pink or some other color. If she bought a have found a place to her liking, but would have
    hat of one style, before she got home, she would cried to go to the moon.
    complain that it was not the style she wished for. She was in this unhappy state of mind when she
    Her mother was kind and indulgent, and always received a visit from her cousin Ella, whose dis-
    permitted her to select for herself, but it made no position was quite different. She was always con-
    difference-she would not be satisfied, tented, and therefore always happy. Like Maud,
    She was always comparing herself to others, to her she was permitted to select her own dresses, and
    own disadvantage. Cora had a prettier parasol than when a new article was purchased, she was always

    _'I- ---

    hers. Laura's father gave her a bracelet on her pleased. If any of her associates had prettier things,
    birthday, and she had only a gold chain. Laura she admired them just as much as though they were
    Sterling had a brother to take her out, while she her own. Her happiness was contagious; it made
    had none. Her fan was too large, her hat was too itself felt wherever she went; therefore everybody
    small, her dress was too dark and her cloak was too liked to receive visits from her.
    light. In short, nothing suited her, and she was One morning she came tripping down the stairs,
    very unhappy. as light-hearted as a bird, and found Maud moping
    Just now her grievance was that she did not live on the porch.
    in the right town. Other towns, from what she Why are you looking so gloomy this fine morn-
    heard, must be much pleasanter. It was vacation, and ing ? she asked.
    her father permitted her to visit her acquaintances "There is enough here to make one gloomy, I
    in the adjoining towns, hoping that she would there should think," said Maud.
    learn to appreciate her own home. But there was When Ella first arrived, even Maud could not re-
    no change in her. If she went to A., she was sorry sist the influence of her happy disposition, but the


    novelty of her company had now worn off, and just think of a person's living in one place all these
    Maud had :l:il- l into her discontented mood. years !"
    What is it? asked Ella. "Tell me all about it. "I think it a very pretty place," said Ella. It
    I cannot bear to see you look so troubled. What is much prettier than my home; and I would much
    has happened to make you unhappy ? rather live here, if I did not love my home so well.
    has happened to e you unh happy

    "Nothing shappenes e y isomornin moreT t Y s Iao sas dborn therl aanu i --h li

    were fine carriages passing all day long, and in this It must be better than this, or you could not be
    quiet street, one might sit here all day without see- happy the re. Papa says if I can nd a place where
    ing a single carriage."e wl c t t l t .
    Why, it does not make one happy to see car- I wish I could find such a place! "
    ragess" said Ella. Ella was a sensible girl, and the truth about
    "Oh, it is not carriages that I care for so much," Mand came to her in this speech. She resolved to
    said Maud; "* but everything is so dull. I am tired teach her cousin a lesson. So she said:
    of living here, and papa knows it very well; but he I tell you what we will do; you and I will un-
    persists iin g that this is quite as good as any dertake to find where there is such happiness, and
    other place." then we will hold him to his word. We will set out
    oh-r l ace_ -

    What other place would you like to live in to-morrow mo rning."ad she

    Any place but this. Why I ws born here; and said: "But where will we go? We shall look well
    "Any nlqo.2 Lnt. fhis._ Why. Iwas born here; and said : B~ut where will we go, a We shall look well


    traveling about the world looking for happiness. I At the very border of the town lived a young lady
    am sure I couldn't go traveling now, anyhow, for my whom they both knew. As they passed her house,
    wardrobe is not ready." they saw her in the garden, tying up a beautiful
    "Oh, we won't have to go far," said Ella. "I vine that trailed over the arbor. She was singing
    know where happiness lives, and we will find it. At like a lark, and she looked so pretty in her morning
    all events, we can enjoy looking for it. I mean it, dress that Ella stopped to admire her. A little
    really. We will not wait till to-morrow, but we'll bird perched near her was apparently trying to sing
    start to-day-this very minute. So put on your hat as loud as she.
    and come along." Here it is," said Ella.
    Maud, half laughing and half pouting, ran and Here is what ?" asked Maud.
    got her hat, and the two locked arms, and started off "Why, here is where happiness lives," said Ella.
    in the direction of the country. Ella was in earnest, "O, I know she is happy," said Maud, "for she
    but they had not walked five minutes before often tells me so. But I never could be happy
    Maud had forgotten all about the supposed object training those ugly vines."
    of the walk, and fell into her habit of com- A little farther on, the girls entered a beautiful
    plaining. field, where flowers of every hue grew in luxuriance,
    and to each cluster the rich, deep green
    of the grass formed a setting which no
    artist or artisan could copy. In the
    field they met an old man, so feeble
    with years that he could scarcely walk
    with the aid of a crutch. He was very
    deaf and nearly blind, but his smile
    showed that he was very happy, with all
    his infirmities.
    F':or more than eighty years," said
    92 the old man, I have lived here, and I
    expect to die here. Here is the well
    which my boy made. He has been dead
    many years, and the well is no longer
    Siused; but as long as I am able to come
    and look at it, and to think of my brave
    son, I am happy."
    Surely here is happiness," said Ella,
    as they turned away.
    "O, I could not be happy anywhere,
    if I were so old and decrepit," said
    The next day, the girls rode to the nexw
    town, and Ella took Maud into the back
    streets, where she had never been before.
    A boy with a donkey-cart was selling
    .., plants. They were small and stunted,
    and not at all to be compared with those
    in the field or in the young ladies' gar-
    den; but the poor people gladly bought
    them at a few pennies apiece. A young
    woman came to the cart to buy the last
    one, for which the boy wanted ten cents;

    ,,.:.,,'L ,-, ,,I T T L ,L -!iit~ ~ii
    I r .. .
    -- -- ,..-*. ...

    S _I ) ,' ./ .-.-.

    S -"'1 I(
    I --' / '


    r ,i
    ' ,.".

    .` 5

    ' --.,, -. "

    a j


    Sbut this was too much for her slender purse, and time in her life, how much better off she was than
    she laughed cheerily as she said: "Never mind, I many about her. Then she fell into a doze, and she
    Swill wait till you come again." Despite the poverty, saw all sorts of children and animals who came
    Sand even squalor, on every hand, the young woman around her, all asking for something which she had,
    Swas happy. Ella remarked it, but Maud only and they lacked. One wanted eyes, another ears,
    shrugged her shoulders and frowned. another her golden hair, and not a few wanted food.
    On the way home, they passed a pretty lake. A She was roused by her cousin Ella, who came
    | gentleman and three ladies sat in a boat fishing. lightly to her and asked where they should go to-
    Maud exclaimed: O, what a charming place We morrow to find happiness.
    must come here and spend a whole day." Just at "We need not go far for it, Ella. You have
    that moment, one of the young ladies yawned, and shown me where to look for it, and I fear I have
    s:aaid: "Do let us go home! It is too tiresome here." been a very foolish girl not to have found it."
    As the girls rode on, Ella said: "I am afraid happi. Ella kissed her and said, That is right, my dear
    'eness does not live there; and, yet, one ought to be cousin. It is in one's own heart that true happiness
    haappy there, if anywhere." Maud was very busy is to be found, and one's surroundings have very
    linking, and she made no reply, little to do with it."
    The girls now rode through a
    nely place, along the border of a
    ood. A woman and her two
    aghters were coming out of the
    od with bundles of dry sticks.
    Suppose, after all," said Ella,
    t~at we should find that happiness
    8es here."
    That is impossible," said Maud.
    'ese people cannot be happy."
    They stopped to converse with
    poor people, and Ella adroitly
    them if they were not very
    hy should we be ?" said the
    n. "We have our health;
    ,re not stricken with blind-
    'like poor Will Somers, nor
    .deafness, like Polly Hooper.
    ;ie can see the pretty things
    ,and hear the birds sing,
    have health, and food, and
    to make us comfortable,
    e ought not to complain."
    eir way home Maud was
    oughtful than ever, and
    careful not to disturb her
    uch talking. They were
    and after tea Ella went
    m, and Maud sat alone on
    As she settled herself
    y in the great arm-chair,
    gt, perhaps for the first

    ---_____ ______________--___ _____________ B _


    IN the mountains of Albania lived a maid whose while he was trading in the bazars, for Christians
    name was Gulbeyaz. Her father was the rich Ibra- were not always well treated there. But Gulbeyaz
    him, who owned large flocks of sheep and goats, and was in love with Cru, the son of Nikeleka, who was
    whose house was furnished with costly velvets and a Christian chief.
    furs, for he was a merchant and traded in the One day an old woman called Schuka came to
    bazars of the Turkish towns. From the mountain Nikeleka and told him that the cruel Aga had
    peaks, Gulbeyaz could see the rich plains below, but formed a plot to murder Cru. Gulbeyaz was to send
    she had no desire to leave the mountains and go to him word to meet her at the well, and was then to
    the towns, for the people there were cruel Moslems, give him a drink from her pitcher, as a token of her
    and Gulbeyaz was a Christian. love. But there was to be poison in the pitcher,
    There were Moslem tribes also in the mountains, and thus the fair Gulbeyaz was to be murderer of
    and between them and the Christians there was her own lover. She was at the well at the break of
    a deep hatred, which sometimes broke out in fierce day, before the mists had cleared away. But in-
    wars, and many were slain on both sides. At the stead of Cru, his father came and pretended to
    time of which we tell there was peace, but the drink from the pitcher, though he was careful not
    hatred still remained in the hearts of the people. to touch the water with his lips. Then old Nike-
    One of the Moslem chiefs was named Adem Aga, leka lay on the ground and writhed and groaned as
    and to him old Ibrahim had promised to give his if in agony, and then he lay quite still. Gulbeyaz had
    daughter in marriage. The Christians seldom mar- become frightened and run away; and out of the
    ried the Moslems, but Aga was a powerful chief, bushes crept a man sent by Aga to see that the plot
    whose friendship the cunning old merchant wanted succeeded.


    III It

    to U P I". it 11.
    ,,I I qu
    Ii~Y II' i'!', ,i ,, ,I,,

    ,- ,WE


    'I'' I~I~a~L 1I''
    " "A' I' "
    .., .II-a - .
    r ,? ,' II. I. l'-. -

    '' *" .--: --. --
    .' : -,
    -.,.." '.. ,
    ~~~ ~ -.= ...,,. _.;,_,:_
    ,, ..._--v .. -2 ] \,,__._ .

    .'I .. ,[I Ji~ 9BA.Byj~PiX5 -.. .


    "The dog is dead," said he, kicking Nikeleka Thus, Monday was the Meal-Day. Then the corn
    with his slipper, to make the marriage-bread was carried in the leaf.
    Thou liest," cried the old man, as he sprang from draped cart, with song and shout, and firing of shots,
    the ground and, with a single blow, felled the vil- unto the nearest miller.
    lain to the earth. And Thursday morn was Wood-Day. One and
    Adem Aga was fierce in his wrath when he heard all who were invited to the nuptial feasting did take
    that Cru was not killed, and he went to old Ibrahim, themselves unto the woods to gather fuel for the
    Marriage Baking.
    And Thursday eve was Bake-Day. Then
    S did a virgin mix the meal, and all the
    women help to knead the leaven. And
    money being hidden in the dough, the
    bridegroom was waylaid and smeared with
    paste, and then the bread was carried to
    the oven.
    S. And Friday was a day of rest.
    "I I\/ And Saturday was Present-Day. The
    children piped a farewell to their lambs, and
    -ofK 'i 'k: whomthey were carried to the Aga's house and
    l a. w given by those he had invited. And many
    a costly present came as well, in golden
    broidery and fox-furs for the winter coat, in
    1I. 4 i rugs and tapestries from Prisrend, and silver
    filagreee from dread Jakova, and the women,
    /1 ~ who had nothing more, brought sheaves of
    And then there came another day of
    rest, and Monday was the marriage.
    i The Aga's home was washed and swept,
    and all the massy doors were thrown wide
    y' open. And as the sun dipped in the west,
    the bridegroom bade his guests depart to
    seek his bride, and bring her to him. The
    wedding guests, by twos and threes, with
    drum and fife to head the search proces-
    .. sion, and firing guns, then filed along the
    r darkening way to seek the house of fair
    Gulbeyaz. The bridegroom waits the
    coming bride within the courtyard of his
    homestead; nor will he cross his floors again
    until his wife doth cross them with him.
    With fife and drum, and shot and shout, the
    and demanded that the wedding should take place guests march on to find Gulbeyaz. Though all of
    at once, to which the merchant gave his consent. them know Ibrahim and the quarter of his dwelling,
    Aga had great wealth, and he determined that all yet do the guests go first astray and knock at other
    the marriage customs should be observed. This was gates. At length they halt before old Ibrahim's
    necessary to keep up his influence with his tribe, all door, and bang and clatter at the portals. A deep-
    of whom were invited to the ceremonies, which mouthed hound bays out alarm, and then again
    lasted a whole week. comes silence. Once more they clamor at the doors,


    'and now a voice is heard to question: "Who are guests as well, who cried: "Blest be the bride!
    ye ? ere we open." the beauteous bride we're bringing home!" And
    "We're wedding guests that seek the bride. Quick, one there was more gallant than the rest, who
    Spring us forth thy daughter." went and led Gulbeyaz's horse, and stroked its
    "Gates open wide!
    Bring forth the bride,
    Or we are all belated.
    Gates close again!
    To our refrain,
    When she we seek is mated."
    The oaken portals swing apart,
    and Ibrahim stands within his
    oourt, and by his side Gulbeyaz.
    The glare of torches plays upon
    her broidered robes, and makes her
    double yashmak shimmer. Mutely
    the maid kneels down, and Ibra-
    him, spreading out his hands, lifts
    up his voice to bless his daughter.
    And now strong arms have placed
    her on her horse, and all the guests
    form close and round about her.
    Old Ibrahim breathes a prayer
    and cries "Farewell ;" and, as the
    drum and pipe strike up, they
    start to bring Gulbeyaz to the
    Dark is the night. The scud
    fties fast, and clouds are dragged
    across the full moon's splendor.
    The winds blow fresh and gusty
    from the chafing lake, the hooded
    crows, croak among the creaking
    tiee-tops. The drum and fife have
    ceased their din, the guests tramp
    oa'in silence. Gulbeyaz shivers in T:
    bVi bridal robes, and draws her
    AMe-cloth still closer to her features.
    1is the night; yet not so
    pai k but that the watchful might have noted how neck, and made as though he fain would hug
    *te guests were now nigh doubled. The new it.
    yrivals joined the throng in twos and threes, most And now a halt is called before Aga's gates-the
    odestly. Mysterious guests-who seemed to step torches falling backward to the rear. A volley from
    ftom out the shadows of the hedge-rows. Most the leading guns proclaims the bride is nearing
    SVaious guests for some were clad as Miridites, and home. A shout goes up: "Long live the bride the
    S~QdTme as Arnaut Moslems. Yet civil, quiet guests beauteous bride we bring thee home to-night! and
    . were these, who smiled demurely on their fellows. then the troop file through porch and circle round
    .: Most thoughtful, courteous guests, too, who would the courtyard. The men with torches, being next
    i:ist on carrying all the torches; most gallant the walls, are careful so to hold their brands that all

    v1 4


    the light is cast before them. What modest guests! deportment. No high-bred bride that ever has been
    No poor relations could be more retiring or so hum- bought or sold-not even in our cultured Christian
    ble. But one there is among these men who budges marriage-market-could have displayed more well-
    not from where he took his station. He leads Gul- conducted, faultless apathy. From where she stood,
    beside her Arab horse, she
    e t t walked with measured confi-
    -- dence towards the Aga. The
    g_--d-- -w- -- se natorches lighted up her gorgeous
    a- robes, and Adem's eye was
    fixed upon her figure. He
    re stood upon the threshold of
    his house, prepared, on having
    --- -- - -- viewed her face, to lead her to
    her chamber. And now Gul-
    beyaz raised her veil, but with
    such modesty and grace that
    from the guests there broke a
    murmur of approval.
    ---. "Now!" cried a deep,
    strong voice, and on the word,
    the torches of the guests around
    -- the walls were suddenly ex-
    tinguished. A turbulence
    raged within the court that
    baffles all description. Screams,
    and pistol-shots had turned
    the courtyard of the Aga's
    house to a very pandemonium.
    Amid the din and darkness
    Gulbeyaz felt a strong arm
    circling round her waist. A
    S moment more and she was
    through the gates and on her
    horse, but an armed, triumphant
    man was seated in the saddle.
    "Ho cried Nikeleka, in his
    Moslem's guise, "'tis thus we're
    taking home the bride! Quick
    to the highlands, Cru, for there
    are priests at Seltza, who will
    beyaz's palfrey through the gates, and lifts the give thee more of mating than had Adem Aga!"
    maiden from her saddle. Her robes are heavy with A week from when the Aga lost his bride he dis-
    much golden work, and she, no doubt, is nervous (as appeared, nor was he heard of for some months. Cru
    a bride will be), and so it takes a little while before was warned the Moslem was in hiding in his hills,
    the man can lift her from her palfrey's back and set and that Aga's life was given to revenge. But time
    her gently on the flagstones. wore on, and still Cru remained unscathed, and soon
    Gulbeyaz was very quiet. The wedding guest the reason of it came to light. Gulbeyaz found his
    who led her horse had whispered something in her dead body in a ravine, where he had fallen from
    ear-perchance a friendly hint upon the subject of the rocks.

    777 '.x:


    RE -~




    THE exact truthfulness of this story I cannot tear him to pieces as soon as he should come down
    vouch for. I can only tell the story as I have heard from the tree, it would not be necessary to find a
    it. I mention this because I always like to be truth- real boy and a real dog, for the artist, if he were a
    ful, and when I tell a story to my young friends good artist, could imagine it just as well.
    that is not exactly and precisely true in every line, So the men and women and children that are )1d
    I like to have an understanding to that effect before- about by Dickens, and Thackeray, and George
    hand. Eliot, and the other great story writers, were not
    There are many children that only like stories necessarily real people. They lived, however, in
    that are true, and to them I would like to mention the imagination of the writers; and if they are like
    that there is a truth in most all stories, even in the real people, then they are true characters. And if
    fairy stories. Of course we all know that there are the incidents related illustrate truths of life, then
    no real fairies, but there are pictures of the imagina- they are true, too, in their way. But this is not the
    tion that are just as true in one way as though the story that I am going to tell as it was told to me,
    events actually happened. If an artist were to draw years ago. If it has any truth in it of the kind I
    your house, you would want him to make the draw- have mentioned, it is worth telling.
    ing exact, to put in all the windows and doors, put In a far-away country, where dogs are thought
    the chimneys at the right end, and the porch on the more of than they are here, there lived a funny
    right side-in fact to make the picture look as much old gentleman, who thought more of them, even,
    like the house as possible. But if the artist were to than any of his neighbors. He did not prize them
    make a picture of a boy caught stealing apples from so much for their good looks as for their good
    his neighbor's orchard, with a big dog waiting to deeds. Further than keeping themselves neat and

    I'' "" "
    ... . pi

    i fill.
    ,, ',.I!,



    4. "o '' ,
    ', ." I I "

    I!.,- L.:. :
    9 .,' ......R ~ -.

    ""-'.1. % .w" y\-o.c !
    ,, I .,, ,: .

    '. 'I. .:2 .-

    J i. ' ''"

    MIS".-::9 ,
    ::j: .i-= 1
    ,' .. 0 '-

    ''.. ,: o. !
    :~~~-. '?. ...

    ' ti ~ :- -~
    ., ,.. .."..... ~s-.,.-,~ c

    g, ,. -,L.
    ., ,,: : ,. .,


    clean," he said, "a dog is not responsible for his himself. The old gentleman said that dogs were
    looks." generally as truthful as the rest of his acquaintances.
    The dogs of that country were always doing some- Once in a while, one was caught in a fib, but any
    thing, and, not unlike the dogs of other countries, deviation from the truth was so easily detected that
    while some were doing good things, others would none of the sensible dogs ever attempted it.
    be doing bad things; yet each dog thought he was The first dog to come forward was a little Scotch
    doing better than the others. terrier. He wore his hair in a bang that came quite
    The old gentleman had noticed this trait of the over his eyes, and it was plain to see that he had
    dogs, and every year he called together all the been petted until he thought himself the finest dog
    dogs, and gave to the one that had been doing best in the world. He was going on about his being
    a gold collar. There were some people who said washed and brushed every day, and fed on cake and
    that the old gentleman did this quite as much to candy, when the old gentleman interrupted him
    with: "But what have you done "I have been
    helping my mistress to draw," said he. I go with
    her every day and lie at her feet, while she takes
    i sketches of the woods and the stream. I am really
    Setting to be a fine artist."
    SThe next dog was a Spitz, who was proud of his
    S long white hair. As it had been sheared off early
    Tin the summer, and was not grown yet to its full
    A- length, he commenced by apologizing that he was
    a hnot dressed as well as he might have been if his
    hair had not been cut.
    -" Don't waste time about your dress," said the old
    gentleman, "but tell us what you have done."
    A- -_" I have barked a great deal," said the Spitz. "I
    think I can bark better than any other dog in the
    But has your barking done any good? asked
    StLhe old gentleman. "It is not always those who do
    I -the most barking that are entitled to the most credit.
    Have you barked for any purpose ? "
    4 0, yes; I bark principally to frighten people,
    -= but sometimes only to attract attention to my fine
    coat. My mistress has a fawn, who has not so fine
    _ a coat as I have, and therefore I bark at it when-
    ever it comes near me. It gets very much frightened
    find out what all the dogs had been doing as to en- at my bark, I assure you, and scampers away to the
    courage them to do well; but I think his motive woods. One day it took my mistress an hour to
    was a good one, whatever it was. find him; and when he came back, his coat was so
    It was the time of the convention, and the dogs frayed and- "
    from all parts of the country came hurrying to the "That will do," said the old gentleman; "we have
    old gentleman's house. When they arrived, they heard quite enough about coats, and barking, too,
    were given a good dinner, and permitted to take a for that matter."
    nap; for no one can tell a good story, even of him.- The next dog came forward with a smirk and a
    self, when he is hungry or tired. bow, which showed at once that he was a foreigner,
    Then they were all called before their host, and and had not yet learned the easy way of the country.
    each, in his turn, gave as good an account of himself I came all the way from Italy," he said; "the
    as he could. Each one was trusted to do this for most beautiful country in the world. I have noble


    blood in my veins. All that I want is riches to tails; for nobody could be of any account who did
    make me the grandest of dogs; for I know how to not wear a pigtail.
    snap at my fellows, and take away their bones as Then he slunk back to the corner, where he
    K well as any lord that ever was born." stood and shivered with the cold. A great number
    The old gentleman lifted his spectacles, and of dogs now came forward, one after the other, to
    Opened his eyes wide, to take a good look at this claim the collar. There were drovers' dogs, who
    scion of nobility, helped drive the cattle, and bit the noses of the
    j "What have you been doing for a living?" said steers who wanted to go the wrong way; and
    he. spotted carriage dogs, who held horses while their
    "For a long time I have lived on the knowledge masters left the carriage. There were several shep-
    tthat I was of the nobility. I lay in the sun all day, herd dogs, who had tended sheep in foreign coun-
    -and at night I visited the back yards for such food tries, and who brought home the weak lambs in
    as I could get. I could not disgrace myself by going their mouths without hurting them; and they
    n the day time. This was the pleasant part of my showed their teeth, filed off flat, to prove it. There
    ; but, alas a woman, who had a dirty little were any number of mongrel dogs, who boasted of
    Sgot possession of me, and made me draw the killing rats, and one who had the ignorance to brag
    t in which she took her milk and ducks to mar- that he killed chickens. Some of the wise old dogs
    This was very horrible drudgery; for I am of snickered aloud at his admission; but the old gen.
    le blood, and was not born to work. I took the tleman checked them with a stamp of his foot, say-
    rst opportunity to escape; but I did not leave until
    .I had murdered all the ducks, and done all the mis-
    -thief I could do, to remind them that I was a noble
    ~;dog. I came to this country because I heard that
    was easier to live here without work; and, surely,
    one is better entitled to the gold collar among all
    osle plebeians of low descent, than myself." And
    -bowed himself back to the side of the room.
    The old gentleman said something that sounded
    f.ne like something about a halter, but I was not

    The next dog. to come forward was from Hong.-
    ontg, in China, and he had not a hair on him from
    .he point of his nose to the end of his tail. He came
    ng along, as though he was to be whipped,
    d more than one of the other dogs expressed the
    inion that he deserved it. He said he had been
    ught here by a sailor, and was given away because
    e snapped at his heels when he was not looking.
    'His real name was Schak-em-hed-off, but here they
    called him Tip. He could not think of anything
    that he had done, except to snap at people, and, he
    'said with a whine, "that was what dogs were made
    for in China." When asked particularly who he
    snapped at, and why, he said he snapped at the
    iceman because the tongs rattled; at the grocer's
    boy, because he carried a basket; at the baby, be-
    cause she took away his cake; and at his mistress,
    because she did not give him some more-and at
    everybody in general, because they didn't wear pig-


    ing: You laugh not at the deed, but at his confes- he said, with a great deal of pomp, and he was
    sion. He is at least honest, and I know more than proud of it. He once belonged to a man who said
    one dog present who has killed chickens, but who he would not take a hundred dollars for him. He
    has said nothing about it." looked about him with a low growl, and the other
    After this, there came up a great, strong-limbed dogs cringed back as far as they could, and whis-
    fellow, who walked boldly, and said he was a cross pered to each other that he would get the gold col-
    between a mastiff and a bull-dog. He said there lar.
    were few things that he had not done, and fewer The old gentleman said there was one more dog
    still that he could not do. He had bitten a dog to be examined, but he was out in the yard, playing
    larger than himself, so that he died. He had caught with the children. He came in as soon as he was
    a thief breaking into the house, and held him till an called, wagging his bushy tail, and with his mouth
    officer came. He had found a strange boy in the open, as though he was laughing.
    yard, and would have torn him to pieces, if his mas- Well, sir," said the old gentleman; what have
    ter had not come up just then, and called him off. you to say for yourself ?"
    He killed every chicken, and duck, and goose, and *" Really," said he, I don't think I want a collar,
    cat, and rat, and even every small dog that he could for I am never tied up."
    see. No peddler or groceryman dare come near the "Well, that makes no difference," said the old
    house unless he was chained. He was a watch-dog, gentleman; "you are here, and the rules must be
    observed. Tell me what you have done. Have you
    Sever caught a thief ?"
    "O, no," said the good-natured Newfoundland.

    I ." Do you tear strange boys to pieces ?"
    "No, no; I never did such a thing as that."
    -..... "Do you kill the ducks and the geese ?"
    0, no; I never kill anything."
    "Are you worth a hundred dollars ?"
    "I don't know about dollars," said the dog; "but
    it would break my little mistress's heart, I am sure,
    if I were to be sold."
    "Ahem Now, sir," said the old gentleman,
    speaking quite sternly, "what were you doing down
    by the river bank the other day, while I was pass-
    ing ?"
    "I was only bringing a little boy out of the water
    because it was too deep and he could not swim."
    "Have you ever done such a thing before ? "
    "Yes, several times."
    "Why ? asked the old gentleman, more
    / /. Because I love the children better than anything
    else in the world."
    The old gentleman stepped right down from his
    chair, and clasped the gold collar about his neck;
    and a great tear stood in his eye as he patted him
    fondly on the head, and told him to go and romp
    with his friend

    THEDC ,v

    'i ,

    1 -:. ,

    -. ,.
    "- .

    .. 0
    I -':,-i - ,

    :. }.

    T ,,L _, ,,- ;)j "~;

    L' )' I


    .... __.."- __ /, _-,- -. --

    I M R..-.. .. -_

    IT was the night before Christmas, and all the and so many of their cousins that the Doctor de-
    good children were snugly tucked up in their beds, cleared he was not able to count them. They had
    and dreaming of stockings stuffed with nuts and been coming for a week, from the north and the
    candies, of gay hobby-horses, and new skates and south and the east and the west. The Doctor had
    splendid sleighs, and of so many other things that brothers or sisters living in the towns all about him,
    they could never mention them all themselves, so and every stage coach, no matter from where, was
    how can I? Not a few of them were dreaming of sure at this time of the year to drop a load at Doc-
    plum pudding and mince pie, but this kind of a tor Merryman's, or at least on the high road where
    dream is not good, and should be forgotten as soon it passed the lane which led up to the house. Tom
    as possible. the hired boy was there with a donkey and cart,
    I speak now of the children at the great house of not to take the children to the house, bless you!
    Doctor Merryman, which included seven of his own, no, they could take themselves up well enough, and


    no sooner were they dropped by the stage than things which had belonged to Grandfather and
    they took to their heels and ran a lively race to see Grandmother Merryman, and to their fathers and
    who should get the first kiss from Uncle John and mothers before them, for this was the old homestead
    Aunt Mary. which had been in possession of the family for
    But with the children came hampers of game- many years.
    pheasants and hares from the north, quails from the The old spinning-wheels were dragged from the
    south, and ducks and wild geese from the sea-coast. corners, the looms set up after a fashion, and, dressed
    There came also mysterious packages of all shapes in the clothing of the previous century, the children
    from the city, so securely wrapped and tied as to would attempt to act the lives of their grandparents.
    baffle the best guesses as to their contents; and to There were frequent surprises and wonderful dis-
    carry these to the house was what the donkey and coveries, and no end to secrets that could not be
    cart were there for. kept, for some nephew or niece was sure to pop in
    After the children were welcomed by Uncle John on Uncle John or Aunt Mary while they were open-
    and Aunt Mary and their seven cousins who lived ing packages, and if a glimpse was caught of a
    there and the other cousins who had arrived before, wooden horse's leg, it was sure to grow to a regi-
    they scampered away to the stables and barns, to ment of cavalry before night. The frequent visits
    look at the horses and donkeys and cows and sheep. to the kitchen, too, where the cooks were up to their
    Many a game of hide-and-seek was played on the elbows in puddings and pies, furnished never end-
    haymows, and the old barn would ring with the ing topics for the children's tongues.
    gay laughter of happy children. If the day was In the evening, they had blind-man's-buff in the
    stormy, there was the old garret stowed with curious great dining-room, and then roast apples and nuts
    in the kitchen. In short, the whole
    week before Christmas and the whole
    week after were given up to festivity and
    mirth. The Christmas season belonged
    to the children, said Uncle John, and
    they should enjoy it. And being all good
    children, with rosy cheeks and beaming
    eyes, as healthy and as happy as children
    could be, they did enjoy it, with great
    benefit to themselves, and without annoy-
    ing anybody, except Old Scroop,who lived
    on the next farm.
    To his face, Jonathan Scroop was called
    Squire Scroop, but behind his back he
    was simply Old Scroop. His house
    was a very large one, but he used
    only one room, in which he ate and slept,
    and in which, it was said, he kept his
    bags of gold; for Old Scroop was very
    rich. An old woman, who was so deaf
    that nobody ever attempted to talk to
    her, cooked his spare meals and made his
    bed; but she was never permitted to be
    in his room alone for a single minute, for
    fear she would steal the gold.
    Have you ever read of Scrooge, in
    Charles Dickens' story, "A Christmas
    Carol ? If you have, you can understand

    W ME

    __ ,-- -
    -A-. ---



    ..k jLh., j

    -~~ ~ ~ -- -- --
    Jk'' ~.:

    F M -Eg!


    what kind of a man Old Scroop was; only he deal more. I tell you what, Squire, it does me good
    was closer and meaner even than Scrooge, and he to hear the youngsters laugh; and it would do you
    lived in the country, while Scrooge lived in the city. good, too, if you could hear more of it. I will send
    Now I think of it, Old Scroop must have been a them all over to your house to-morrow, and they'll
    brother or a son of Scrooge, because they were so turn it so topsy-turvy in five minutes, that there
    much alike. In all probability, Scrooge had found won't be a cobweb left in it from garret to cellar.
    And if you don't enjoy it, there's nothing in this
    world that you can enjoy."
    The Doctor's eyes twinkled merrily, for he was
    having a joke at Old Scroop's expense; but Old
    Scroop was so angry that he could not see it.
    "Send them over to me, will ye ?" You had
    better send them to me. I'll horsewhip them
    within an inch of their lives if I catch them on my
    premises. I'll stop their laughing for them, so that
    they'll be quiet enough, I warrant ye." And Old
    Scroop walked off, while Uncle John went in to tell
    Aunt Mary the good joke.
    Well, it was the night before Christmas, as I told
    you at the beginning of my story. The children
    had romped harder than ever in the barn, had en-
    joyed their blind-man's-buff and their roast apples,
    and had all gone to bed. It does not take such
    children as those long to go to sleep; and five minutes
    after their heads were once on the pillows, they were
    all in that wonderful fairyland of dreams. And, de-
    pend upon it, their dreams were all pleasant; for it
    is only people who have bad thoughts that have
    bad dreams.
    The good Doctor and his wife sat up late, for
    they had much to do. The last of the packages
    had to be opened, the stockings had to be filled, and
    those things that were too large for the stockings
    must be neatly and plainly labeled, and all placed
    on the dining-table. The great fireplace was fairly
    covered with stockings; for not a person belonging
    that he was meaner than himself, and so had driven to the house was permitted to go to bed without
    him off years before; for such miserly people cannot first coming to the dining-room and hanging up a
    bear to be outdone in meanness by others. stocking. And there were presents for all, and to
    Old Scroop hated children, and when he heard spare; so Aunt Mary had plenty to do. In the
    the Merrymans and their cousins laughing and goodness of her heart, she proposed to send a big
    shouting to each other in the barn, he complained mince pie over to Old Scroop, the first thing in the
    to the Doctor that they were making too much morning. Uncle John said it was doubtful if she
    noise. could touch his heart, even through his stomach.
    But Christmas is only two days off," said the But it is Christmas," said he; send it by all
    Doctor. means. We must not forget Christmas, if Old
    Bah What is Christmas more than any other Scroop does."
    day ?" said Old Scroop. For many years the Doctor had superintended the
    Good gracious me -anid the Doctor, a good ringing of the bells in the tower of the old church

    -, F= -

    '--2 -i
    'r -12` -_i _


    on all holidays, and Christmas morn must be rung And the wives and children who heard the Christ-
    in by the chimes. The four men from the farm, mas bells silently prayed for the brothers, husband,
    who were to ring the bells, now appeared with and fathers in the old church-tower.
    lanterns. It was a wild, blustering night; the wind Old Scroop heard the bells, too. He had gone
    howled through the dead branches of the trees and early to his miserable bed, but he could not sleep.
    shook the casements of the windows; and, at inter- He was unhappy enough at all times, but at Christ-
    vals, gusts of snow beat against the panes. But the mas he was more unhappy than ever. In all the

    Doctor put on his great coat, kissed his happy wife, festive preparation about him, he had no place.
    and went with his men to the church. He had no wife, no children, not a soul in the world
    No sooner did the first peal ring out on the win- to whom his heart could go out in love. The laugh-
    try air, than in came the neighbors, one after the ter of the children rang in his ears; their happy
    other, to wish the Doctor a merry Christmas. And faces haunted him. He thought of his gold, and
    there they sat, drinking cider, and chatting of home of how much he had added to it during the year,
    and the little ones who were sleeping, of the poor but somehow it gave him no rest. He turned over
    who had to be cared for, of the sick and the afflicted, again, resolved that he must go to sleep, when
    and of all who must be remembered on the morrow, clang clang came the peals of the bells in the old


    tower. This was too much; and, in great rage, followed him, and the village was wrapped in silent
    Old Scroop arose and dressed himself, and made his slumber.
    way against the cold wind and cutting snow to the All except old Scroop. On coming out, he had
    old church, to quarrel with his neighbors for dis- shut his house door with a bang which had broken
    turbing his rest. He climbed the stairs, and burst the lock; though the bolt turned well enough when
    in upon the happy group, quite out of breath, he locked it, it would not now unlock. He tried
    A pretty racket you are making here said he; his key till he was tired. Then he shouted himself
    ' disturbing your peaceful neighbors, so that they hoarse, but all to no purpose, for his housekeeper
    cannot sleep." was too deaf to hear him, even if he had shouted
    "Why, Squire," said the Doctor; "I did not five times as loud. He might have gone to Doctor
    know that ringing Christmas bells disturbed any- Merryman's or to any other of his neighbors, but he
    body. These bells have ushered in every Christmas was so accustomed to living apart from them that
    since I was born, and we could have no Christmas such a thought never entered his head. He paced
    without them." up and down his porch and stamped his feet to
    Then they saw that Old Scroop was very pale, keep them warm, and cursed the bells, and the chil-
    and they asked him to sit down and have a glass of dren, whose laughter was still sounding in his ears.
    cider with them. But it was of no use; he rejected Then he became drowsy, and he found a sheltered
    all their courtesies. He could find no comfort there, corner of the porch and sat down and fell asleep.
    for the trouble was in his heart, not in the bells. As soon as it was light all was astir at Doctor
    He grumbled on; called them fools, for making Merryman's. Cries of "A merry Christmas" rang
    more of Christmas than other days; and then he through the halls, and there was such a pattering of
    clambered down the stairs, and took his way home- feet and clattering of tongues, as drove sleep far
    ward again through the snow, that was now falling in from the eyelids of the dullest l:;i-:rd. Troops of
    good earnest. The Doctor and his companions soon children, half dressed, but wholly awake, came rush-



    ing pell-mell down the wide staircase to the dining- freezing, and it was with great difficulty that he
    room, and there was much clapping of hands and was roused. His limbs were badly frozen, and as
    many exclamations of delight. But nothing was soon as he revived he was in great pain. The Doc-
    touched till Uncle John and Aunt Mary came down; tor applied the proper remedies, and finally he
    then everybody was summoned, the stockings were became easier and fell into a natural sleep, and the
    emptied and the presents distributed. Then baskets Doctor went home to tell the children.
    were filled and sent to the sick and needy. Aunt On the day before, they had called him Mean Old
    Mary packed a great mince pie, with a plump Scroop, and Stingy Old Scroop; now they spoke of
    roasted chicken, and a bowl of jam, and sent Tom him as Poor Old Scroop. They begged to be per-
    off with it to Old Scroop. Then the family sat down mitted to go over and sing him a carol, and Uncle
    to breakfast. John said it would do no harm-so they went.
    They had not risen from breakfast, when Tom Scroop was awake again and suffering, but the sing-
    came rushing back, and said that Old Scroop had ing made him feel better. He knew very well what
    been found on his porch frozen to death, and the children were singing, and instead of wanting to
    Doctor was to go over at once. The Doctor did go horsewhip them, he began to cry like a child him-
    without loss of time. The old man was not dead, self. He thought no more of his gold, but he
    but the Doctor said he was found just in time. He thought a great deal of himself when he was a child.
    was in that deep stupor which precedes death by He remembered his little sister, whom he had not
    thought of for years. He remembered
    the day when they strolled through the
    ---_ wood, looking for flowers and berries,
    when they met an old woman who told
    them how kind the owner of the wood
    was to her, to permit her to gather fire-
    wood, and how all the children gathered
    nuts there. And then he remembered
    how he himself had bought the wood
    and driven all the old women and
    children out. His mother's face came
    to him as he thought of how she had
    taught him to kneel and say his prayers
    in his little attic room. Ah, then he
    was as happy as the children now sing-
    ing the Christmas carol, and as hand-
    some too, but that was a long, long time
    ago. He had grown hard and selfish
    and ugly and unhappy since then. But
    he might have been always youthful at
    heart. He knew it all now. To-mor-
    row he would call the children in and
    i he would tell them never to begin to be
    ; : 't \mean and selfish.
    He would be better to-morrow-then
    he would talk to the dear children.
    He went gently to sleep, with the
    S" -- laughter and singing in his ears, but
    he never woke again. Now, when the
    children pass his grave they tell each
    -~ -_ "- .. ... other the story of Old Scroop's death..

    .4 -. :* ,. 1 -
    ~I I

    :. .' r 7 y- ...,('" s -'
    it I t

    it.. -^,' -" ,( ,~ "ti^' 1 ^ ^ B ^ "
    -I : '--

    i ; ,

    14 .- fT.


    DOWN by an old deserted house in a little
    field which had once been a kitchen garden,
    stood an old she ass and her young colt. All
    kinds of vegetables had once grown in the old "
    garden, but it had long since ceased to be
    cultivated, and was covered with rank weeds. A .
    The old ass was tied by a rope to a stake
    driven into the ground, but the colt was free "
    to run about. However, he did not take advan-
    tage of his liberty, but kept very near his "'
    mother. This was why he was not tied, for :-
    young asses should not be permitted to run
    about any more than old ones.
    They had both eaten their fill of the thistles'
    and weeds within reach, and the old ass was '
    giving the young one a quiet talking to. Now .
    there is something to be learned from every .. '.
    animal, even from an ass, if we are willing and
    try to discover it, so I listened. But, unfor- -
    tunatelv this ass was fond of talking about. .-
    things that she knew nothing about, and -- _-- -
    neglecting to teach her young what she knew .
    and what would be most useful. There are .
    some people who do the same thing. .
    "Do you notice the care that the master takes -
    of us ?" said she. "Every morning he brings us
    out here where there are plenty of juicy weeds, and value, that we can be beaten. Then he is particular
    every night he comes and takes us back and puts that we should do everything that is proper, and
    us in the stable. Then do you notice he is very sometimes, I must own that we get careless. I don't
    careful to shut the door, so that no one can get in care for beating. Asses have been beaten since the
    to harm us. 0, yes, he thinks a great deal of us, world was created."
    and I am very proud of his good opinion." As I walked on, I met the farmer coming for the
    "But why does he tie you up?" asked Jack; asses.
    "why don't he let you run in the big field with the "Why do you keep them down in the old gar-
    cows ?" den?" I asked.
    "That is because we are of more importance than "The fact is," said he, "that I dare not let the old
    the cows," said old Jennie. "If the cows wander one run with the cows. She kicks them whenever
    away and are lost, he can easily get more cows that she gets a chance, and she chases them about the
    are just as good. But he could not replace us, so field, which prevents them from giving as much
    he takes greater care of us. The whole farm would milk as they ought. So I thought best to tie her up
    be ruined if we should be lost, Jack," and she in the old garden. She gets plenty to eat, for asses
    flopped her ears with great self-satisfaction, will eat what the cows cannot."
    "But he beats you," said Jack "Have you no use for her, that you keep her tied
    "That's nothing. I suppose that makes us of more up there every (lay ? "

    58 MY NOTE BOOK.

    "Not the least use in the world," said he. "In lieve it is because that vile ass is no longer in the
    fact, I wouldn't keep her a day, for she is only a field with you to bother you."
    bother to me, but nobody else wants her, and there- I listened to hear the cow's reply; but she gave
    fore I can't sell her. She is of no value to the farm no sign whatever which I could interpret, but stood
    whatever." contentedly chewing her cud. Then I wrote down
    As I walked on, I thought that I had learned in my note book:
    something after all by listening to the ass, although Those who do the best have the least to say
    she was talking about that of which she knew about it."

    --___--:__ --: --_, -~=.----_-:_- ---------- -


    nothing. So I took out my note book and I jotted A group of children were playing in the dooryard.
    it down, as I always do when I learn something new. Two boys were dressed as sailors and one like a
    Asses have a higher opinion of themselves than knight of the olden time; and they were all blow-
    others have of them." ing on great cow-horns, and feeling as brave about
    As I passed the farmyard, the milkmaid was milk- it as though they were real sailors and knights.
    ing a fine old Alderney, who stood chewing her cud, What would we do," said one, if it were not
    as meek and gentle as possible for our cow-horns ?

    Good creature," said the milkmaid; "you have "You would do without them," said his eldest
    given me a higherart more than ever before. I do be- sister of the olden timeand you'd be much better off."


    But one cannot be a brave sailor or a soldier The cow's hide is the best of all," said Susie;
    without a horn or a trumpet to blow," said he. "for it makes our shoes, and trunks, and belts, and
    "Just listen to this," and he gave a blast that scared straps, and many other things. Don't you remember
    all the chickens and made the dog bark with fright, that the teacher told us so in our last object lesson ?"
    " If I ever go to war, I'll carry a trumpet. It is Just then the cook crossed from the kitchen with
    much lighter than a gun. I'll blow the trumpet, a great piece of roast beef on a platter, and Benny
    and let others do the shooting. I am going to hunt dropped his horn, and cried: The roast beef is the
    elephants when I grow to be'a man, and then I shall best of all." The dog raised his nose in the air as
    certainly want a trumpet." he scented the beef, and gave his approval in a joy-
    Yes," she said; and you'd be the first one to ful Bow, wow! And they all rushed away to
    run away; just as you did yesterday from the tur- their supper, while I wrote in my note-book:

    k c I! -" C__--

    '_ '" " -' ... "'- -1 '' i'' =' ^ '' i I

    key-cock, when he strutted after you because you "One's qualities are differently valued by different
    had a red sash around your waist." people."
    While they were all laughing at this, I took out On my way home, I saw a maiden driving home
    my notebook and wrote: the geese. A young farmer came along on horse-
    "It is not the bravest who blow their trumpets back, and stopped to talk to the pretty maiden.
    loudest." "That is a fine flock of geese," said he; and she
    "For my part," said another sister, "I thinkit would simpered, and said that they were a great bother.
    be much better if cows did not have horns at all. When lie had driven on, I heard her soliloquizing
    Papa says those who have the smallest horns give to herself in this fashion:
    the most milk, and are not so apt to be cross, and "If he had found me in any other place, than
    quarrel and fight with other cows." driving this flock of silly geese, I know he would
    "And the milk is much better tha thte horns," have proposed. I know that he admires me, by the
    said Baby; "for we can drink it, and horns are of no way lie looks at me, and because he always stops to
    use at all, only to play soldier and sailor with." talk to me. But I am always with these geese, and so

    60 MY NOTE BOOK.

    he talks about them. I will kill them all at Christmas, "Yes," said he, she is pretty; but she thin!.'
    and then, I hope, he will find something else to talk geese are troublesome. A maid that grumbles at
    about. Then he will propose, and we shall be mar- trifles will never do for my wife. I hear, too, that she
    ried early next year, and I shall not have to bother intends to kill them all at Christmas, and then she
    with the geese any more." And she seemed very will be quite portionless. So I'll think no more
    cheerful about it, as though the matter was all settled. about it."
    I had a curiosity to know what the young farmer And he whistled gayly, because it was now off
    thought about it, so I caught up with him, and his mind. I immediately made two notes as follows
    walked along behind him. Beauty is not the only attraction."
    It takes two to make a bar-
    SAs I strolled along, I happened
    Sto pass where all the geese were
    M __ OEM now safely shut in for the night.
    They were making a terrible clat-
    ter, all trying to cackle and talk at
    once, as geese will do. As I leaned
    over the paling, they were saying .
    "She will be of no use to him,
    but be will marry her on our
    S"Did you hear how he praised
    us ? "
    We are the finest geese in
    the country."
    S"I shouldn't wonder if he
    married a goose at last."
    S"She has no reason to be
    ashamed of us; we are quite as
    good as she is."
    "I am glad that we have made
    the match, for we shall be much
    S, better cared for."
    We will have the wedding at
    And they stretched their necks
    and cackled away, as if the affairs
    of the whole world must be all
    arranged that night.
    It was so dark by this time
    that I could only see to make one
    -- ,more note.
    S- --Geese have more feathers thim


    I --i
    ; 'I '

    would have had suitors by the dozen on that ac- thought herself the handsomest girl in Holland. If
    count; but she was also very rich, therefore she had she had had nothing else, she certainly would have
    suitors by the score. But she was so very proud been proud of that, for it was a part of her nature
    that she only amused herself with each one in turn, to be proud, and people who are proud by nature
    and then sent him off about his business, to make will sometimes be proud of very little things. She
    room for another. was proud of her wealth. To her, wealth was every-
    She was not proud of her name, although the thing. In importance, it was far above title or
    Von had been bestowed upon one of her ancestors for beauty. It would buy for her diamonds and silks
    bravery. She cared nothing for noble deeds. She and velvets and laces and ornaments of heavy gold,
    scarcely ever thought of them. She had never and these had come to be, in the eyes of Miss Von
    attempted a noble act herself or even had a noble Thaden, the things to live for and to talk of.
    thought, so how could she admire them in others? Among her admirers was a young naval officer,
    Her father had acquired his wealth making soap and Louis Stein. He had never had a Von to his name,
    candles, and the family had long ago ceased to think but he deserved it much more than the proud miss
    of how the Von came to be added to their name, and who had displayed her charms so well as to make him
    Miss Von Thaden would have laughed at the very love her. If Miss Von Thaden had had any heart
    idea of being proud of it. at all, she could not have helped loving Louis Stein.

    idea of being proud of it. at all, she could not have helped loving Louis Stein.


    lie was as handsome as a man can be, strong and his honest heart, he was led to believe that she
    graceful, and withal so gentle and honest and would be his wife.
    manly in all his ways that he was liked by every- But this was not to last forever. One morning
    body. Even Miss Von Thaden liked him better she made up her mind to have another admirer, and
    than all her other suitors; and when he rang the when Louis came in the afternoon, she told him lie
    bell there was a little palpitation where her heart must discontinue his visits, for she never could
    ought to have been, and her alabaster cheeks grew marry him, because he was poor. Louis was as-
    a little pink. Then she would run down to the wounded at first. The blood left his face, and his
    drawing-room and talk and smile like an angel, un- heart flew up till it made him gasp. But when
    til poor Louis thought she was one, or at least very proud Miss Von Thaden coolly went on to talk of
    much like one. Not a word would she say about her great wealth, and how much more important
    her gold and diamonds, but they were all the time riches were, he got a little glimpse of a side of her
    in her mind. character that he had not seen before. Though he
    I --- .


    I -

    :'-- .-- ,- ", 'i . .."'.-- i

    One might be curious to know why she took so was terribly shocked, lie was too manly and well-
    much pains to please Louis, more than she bestowed bred to show it there, and he politely bade her good-

    hin as a girl without any heart to speak of could Now proud Miss Von Thaden was not used to
    do, it was not surely for this reason that she ap- this. All her other ad mirers had made a scene
    peared her best, for she knew nothing would come when she had cast them off ; and these scenes were
    of it. She had a head, if she had no heart, and her always greatly enjoyed by her. But here was a
    common sense told her that Louis did not admire young man whom she had credited with real love,
    her for her money, as most of the others did, and she and lie had gone off with only a polite good-day.
    made up her mind at the first to send him to the She sat for a moment gazing at the door, as though
    right-about just as she had sent all the rest. She she thought he had forgotten something, and would
    plainly liked to be admired with an honest admira- surely come back for it. When he did not come,
    tion ; and so Louis was permitted to visit her until, in she pinched her dainty fingers, and clinched her

    =-. .;. ;- I:.- ~ -~~~---:-- .---- .

    _=" .... -_-00._" 1i

    P Ij~l
    -_ .... ,-
    -- ,t, /!I J .

    V,- UPI- I ... .

    -6Il k!. .
    )st 4 1
    iib], _--'&

    ,Ik i, l'l l',"
    ir iii t '
    ..i.PQ~ iri, ,. ,~T i ,,,,

    'li' i
    ; I .- 1

    ~I i 'i b r, !' 1.' II ,, '
    '' ',' ";. I ii i< "
    iii ,'

    ','! ii ', I ',, !i, "Iii 'i I' :?
    .'.. 'l ,I 'I'; .,,,...: .. i j -

    ,., ,, l1 .. :. ,._- _--t
    ,i__. I''-I i'~~

    :._, ._ .. -,,. Z...
    --- ... _- "=- -z ----"--r P-..

    .~~~~-- --== ...
    ---_i--- =T - _---- -. -I z -- =- -=2 : -= ..=-- ;;f"'- r .. --- -
    .. .. _-:- -. _--_ _. __=-_- _-5 -- _=. -- .= __ _= = _: " -_._ ..
    __- .. .. .. -----= = = 7- -= ---= -. .-_ -= =---- '-: -_-- -- = ,"- -: "--. ='-
    - -_ -i ------- -== -- = ,-- . = _ ----=- -= -._-__ --. .. '"- -z -- U-
    =--;--: - : .. .. -_ -- , _:,-- =_=, --: _--- .. .- _- .-
    [- -7- - L : --- ---- -: _-:- - --- --: -... :-- -';=-- ./ _- :_,. .--_-_ __ ?-.


    pearly teeth, and said: "The heartless wretch, to so several years passed. But great events happened
    leave me so Then she ran up to her own room, in those years. Among other events, the rich soap
    locked the door, and had a hearty cry. I cannot tell and candle maker lost nearly every dollar of his
    you what she was crying about, seeing that she had wealth, and proud Miss Von Thaden found that the
    no heart; but cry she certainly did, till her eyes only thing she was proud of was taken from her.
    were quite red. When she stopped crying, she They moved into a little house in a poorer part of
    looked in the glass, and then began to bathe her the city, and kept but a single servant. For a time
    eyes, all the time saying: "Heartless! heartless! after Louis went away, she had plenty of suitors,
    the heartless man but she had dismissed them sooner than before,
    It is a common thing for insane people to think without, however, taking half as much pleasure in
    that all other people are insane, and it is still more their dismissal as in former years. As she read the
    common for people who have no hearts themselves papers every day, she kept saying : He is too poor."
    to call others heartless. She had only been amusing But if you had seen her sometimes, when she was
    herself with Louis; but why didn't he act like the reading of Louis's bravery and promotions; if you
    others ? Pshaw! he was too poor, anyhow. She had seen her then, all alone in her room, and had
    wouldn't give him another thought. He would cer- not known her, you would have said that she had a
    tainly come back, and ask her to change her mind. heart like most other young ladies. There is this
    Of course, he would come again in a day or two. also to be said to her credit, that she grew less
    But Louis did not come back. Whatever he felt proud, and finally gave up saying : "He is too poor."
    about it, he said nothing, but went bravely about When she finally lost all her wealth, she did not feel
    his duty. There was a war between England and as badly as you would think. Her pride was gone,
    Holland on one side and France on the other, and in and her favorite amusement too, for she had no
    a few days his ship was ordered away. suitors at all. One iii-.riiiing, as she went with the
    Miss Von Thaden watched the papers every day maid to market (she had to go to market herself
    to get accounts of the ship, and she eagerly read now), she noticed a great stir in the streets. She
    about all the battles in which it was engaged; and was very silent and thoughtful, for Louis had won

    ',,,! ,,1' !t -j1.*1 U
    i ;-, ,' -- ^i- ^ .

    .. ., iv," ,

    C $P~~L-,~ ekB:- K


    honor and renown in a fierce naval battle on the the cannons booming in the offing. The two fleets
    coast of France, and he was on his way home as had met, and were fighting for the town. But the
    commander of the fleet. The old woman in the fishwoman's husband was right; the brave Captain
    market, of whom they bought their fish, said: "Have Stein was the victor, and the town was saved.
    you heard the news, Miss?" Poor Louis, however, was badly wounded, and lay
    "I don't think I have," said Miss Von Thaden; in the hospital many days between life and death.
    for she had hurried to market without reading the As she read the hospital bulletin every morning,
    morning paper. Miss Von Thaden's new heart thumped all the time.
    "That's strange, now," said the fishwoman. "I When he was well enough, she went herself to the
    thought everybody knew it. Don't you see the hospital to see him; and it did not take him long
    people reading and talking about it in crowds. The to learn that she had lost her pride and found a
    papers do say that the French are on their way here heart. Of the wealth which she had lost he did
    to take the town with all their ships. But my old not give a thought.
    man, he says there's no fear of that, for Captain Captain Stein and Miss Von Thaden were married
    Stein be on his way, too; and there'll be no fear of at New-Years. Captain Stein went to sea and fought
    the French when the brave Captain Stein is here. more battles, and his wife was very anxious, but not
    This is his own town, you know, Miss; and he'll so unhappy as she had been when he was away be-
    sure be here to save it." fore. After the war, the soap and candle business
    Miss Von Thaden surely had a heart then, for it so improved that the wealth returned, but the pride
    gave a great thump. On the way home, they heard was gone for ever.


    __---_',_ _. __ _-
    ; ,': -~
    -~sr`:--',',-=,~"~ ,'~3
    _.-_-.' ,:.



    I .;-

    You may think that I am of but very little conse- ing-birds were singing in the woods close by, and
    quence, but I can assure you that I have traveled birds of gay plumage were flitting about me, with
    extensively and seen more strange sights than any evident pleasure to see that I had opened my eyes.
    boy or girl that I ever met, and I have met a good I was surrounded on all sides by plants like myself,
    many in my time. who were all opening their eyes a little bit just as I
    The first thing that I can remember seeing was had done, and I knew they were my brothers and
    the sunshine. One morning, I remember feeling sisters. A light breeze blew across the field, and we
    strong and peculiarly happy and lively, and it oc- all rustled our leaves and nodded to each other.
    curred to me that I had eyes and I might as well We soon got used to the sun and opened our eyes
    open them. I had always kept them closed till that wider and wider, so that by night they were as wide
    morning. In fact, I don't believe that I knew, open as though they had never been closed.
    until then, that I had eyes. I first opened them a The next day we had visitors. A tall man, with
    little bit and the light quite dazzled me. I did not black hair and heavy black beard, accompanied by
    then know that it was light, or that it was the sun a boy whom he led by the hand, and a little girl
    that produced it all, and made me feel so warm and with a maid carrying a baby, came strolling across
    joyful. I have found out all these things since, and the field toward us.
    many others, by hearing people talk about them. "Look, papa !" said the boy; the cotton is all in
    It was a beautiful summer morning. The mock- bloom."


    "So it is, Phil," said the man; "and a pretty field about me and shut me in like a prisoner, but I could
    it is. We shall have as good a crop as any other in hear every thing just as well, and I was very happy
    Georgia. Pick a blossom for your sister to take to when I heard Baby Bell learning to talk. Now that
    mamma." I could not see her, I thought of her all the time.
    The baby held out her hands for a blossom and the One day as she and her sister were playing near me
    man said: Certainly, Baby Bell shall have one too." I tried so hard to listen that I burst my pod. On
    So you see, by keeping quiet and listening we looking about me I saw that all my brothers and
    learned all about them. We were
    greatly pleased at the praises -
    bestowed upon us, and we rustled
    and nodded all the time. I was in.. -
    hopes that Phil would select me to .
    take up to the big house, but he took
    one of my sisters that happened to I ,' ''' .
    stand nearer the edge of the fiehl. -, -, -. --
    It was just as well for me, for she @:..
    must have withered and died, as we
    saw some of her dead leaves blowing
    about the field a few days after.
    Some of my sisters fell in love r i
    with Phil right away, and some of
    them thought Flo was a sweet girl,
    but I admired Baby Bell most of
    all. The field was near the house,
    and I stretched my neck and raised
    my head as high as I could to see ,
    her play every day on the porch.
    Her sister Flo was very fond of
    her and they were always together.
    When the great window, which ex -
    tended down to the floor, was open,
    I could look into the room and see
    them very plainly, for my eyes
    were very wide open by this time.
    Phil had a pony, on which he
    took a ride every morning. Some-
    times he would ride along the edge .
    of the field, and then what a rust-
    ling there would be to attract his
    attention, and what nodding and I -
    gossiping afterward, by my sisters
    who were in love with him. As for myself, I was sisters were bursting their pods too, and we all
    content to stand as high as I could and watch for nodded to each other as we did on the morning that
    Baby Bell. we opened our eyes.
    Day after day passed, and finally we all began to In a short time, our heads were covered with the
    get old and lose our leaves. I cannot describe our most remarkable hair you ever saw. It was as
    feelings to you. We knew that some change was white as snow, and it grew so fast, that we soon
    coming, but we did not know what. A pod grew seemed to be all hair. It grew and grew, till I was

    afraid that the wind would blow us all away. One were scratched all to pieces, and our seeds all taken
    day Phil and his father came out and admired us, out. Then we were put into the press. It seemed as
    and his father said: "We must put on all the hands though we were crowded as close as we could be in
    and pick this cotton to-morrow." the sack, but in the press, they first stamped on us
    The next day a lot of negroes, men and women, and then pounded us till we lay so close together
    boys and girls, came early, and began to pluck us that we could not move a hair.

    L1. 1 .4

    from our stems, and throw us, shelter skelter, all to- I was in the middle of the bale, where it was as
    gether into big baskets. Then they crowded us dark as night, and I could only hear the loudest
    into big sacks, and tied the mouths up tight, so that noises. I soon knew by the motion that I was on
    we could get neither light nor air. We were dread- a railroad car; and then, after being dreadfully tum-
    fully crowded, but this was nothing to the crushing bled about, I knew that I was on a steamer. Then
    that we got soon afterward. But first we were there was more rough tumbling, another journey by
    taken to what I heard them call a gin, where we rail, and the bale that I was in was piled away in a
    .,",- Ii ~-- ,a-...
    -'. i-._-- i'.t

    ..... v l!I R ,; d'" .
    EiJ -; I,_.= =,

    taken to what I heard them call a gin, where we rail, and the bale that I was in was piled away in a

    - ,1_ : ., ,- .'_ ,t ._ -- : "':',A,,,a

    .' :
    :"I:' " 4:;'"'1 --_, ": :

    r-. -'
    .., r, "
    . \ .- .- ,~i '. 4._ -
    '. ,,""
    ..o .:::,.+ -

    r ..'y -
    ,. ..-.-._,

    ,,, .i//
    -, -~o ." I r"

    . i---


    storehouse. I had begun to think that I would large store, surrounded by all sorts of pretty things,
    never see the light any more, when I felt them tur- and ladies were coming and going all the time.
    bling me about again, and jolting me on a wagon; Many of them brought little girls with them, and I
    and all at once the bands were cut, and we all lay watched them all closely, in the hope that we would
    in a heap on the floor of a big factory. It did not find Baby Bell. Day after day passed and we were
    take long, you may believe, for us to stretch our- disappointed. But we were very happy, notwith-
    selves out, so that we could get a little light and standing, for it was very amusing to look at the ladies
    air, and we felt very comfortable. and hear them talk.
    But we were not to remain long undisturbed. A At last we were bought by one of them and
    great brawny man took me and a lot of my taken home in her pocket, and put so quickly into a
    sisters in his arms, and threw me into a sort of mill, drawer, that we could not see where we were. We
    where I was fearfully scratched. Then I suddenly kept our ears wide open, and we knew by the
    found myself on a spindle, where I was whirled voices that we were in the house of our old master,
    around so fast that it would have made my head in Georgia. In a few days, Baby Bell came herself,
    swim if I had had a head. When I stopped whirling, and took us out of the drawer, and handed us to a
    I was so twisted up with my sisters that I could not lady, who was making a little pink dress. While we
    tell one from the other, or which was
    myself or which was my sisters, and
    I have never been able to since.
    Before we had time to think about-- -
    it, however, we were all being ..-
    wound on a pretty spool. We
    were all as white as milk, though --
    some of us had got very dirty
    during our travels. I suppose we .Z '
    must have been washed while I was
    Now we were assorted and
    labeled, and put into little boxes -
    with other spools. This was all
    done by little girls; and as each
    one took me up, I looked into her
    face to see if it was Flo., for I
    wanted to know about Baby Bell.
    But the faces were all strange.
    One day a man came in and packed
    the box I was in in a much larger I
    box, and we were taken to the cars,
    and off we rattled. When we arrived .-
    at our destination, we were left --
    alone for a long time in our dark .
    box, and I thought to myself, for .
    the second time, that I should never
    again see the light. But I have since
    learned better than to despond, for
    some change is always sure to come.
    One day we were jolted off again .'
    in a wagon, and when the box was
    opened, we found ourselves in a


    were thinking how strange it all was, we were We soon discovered that others of our sisters were
    stitched into the dress, and Baby Bell put it on. in the ribbons and the curtains, and nearly everything
    She was very proud of her new dress, and we were about us, even in the mats, and in the string with
    as proud as she. I say we" all the time, because which Baby May dIo2l'_.-l her little horse and
    I told you that I was so twisted up with some of my cart.
    sisters that we could not tell one from the other. Baby May was a great girl then, and those were
    We had been thinking that we were all in the happy days for us. But it could not last; as
    thread, but we soon found that some of our sisters I said, changes are always coming. The dress
    were woven into the dress itself, and we were very was worn out and thrown into a bag of rags, and
    glad to meet and talk over the old times, then we were taken to a mill and scratched all
    to pieces again. We thought we
    were certainly going to be made
    into thread again, to be wound on a
    .- ... spool, and taken back to Baby
    -z4 :, Bell once more; but quite another
    ,-Y fate awaited us. When they were
    through with their turning and
    .. .twisting us, we found ourselves
    "r "with a lot of strangers, in a much
    Larger cord, and we were knitted
    into nets, and lay in the river to
    catch fishes. Just as we had got
    used to this and had begun to like
    i.-t, we were torn apart again, and
    scratched, and turned, and twisted
    .-_ into rope. Then we roamed the
    --- sea back and forth for many years.
    -- Most of my sisters had been lost,
    somehow, but a few of us, with the
    help of tar and a sisterly affection,
    % have stuck to each other. We
    have worked so hard to hold the
    S\- sails and spars in the storms that
    we are not of much account now.
    The other day a boy took me for a
    Ii., but I soon broke and let
    him fall, and I'm afraid I hurt him.
    It was not my fault, for I am too
    old for a swing. I suppose our
    -. travels are over. But if you ever
    7 .see Baby Bell, tell her that we
    have never forgotten her, and
    never shall.


    "HETTY, dear, will you come -,. -
    with me to the wood and get -
    some primroses?" said Edith "
    Moncton to her cousin.
    "Oh yes," replied Hetty joy- 4
    fully; "that will be fun. Shall
    we go at once '
    "_As soon as we can get ready,"
    said Edith. "Mamma says we
    may if it keeps fine."
    "It is a beautiful day," ex.
    claimed Hetty, "and I am sure
    we don't want an umbrella."
    In a quarter of an hour the
    girls were ready, and started off -r- -.'
    to the wood to pick the prim-
    They picked a great number,
    stopping here and there to sit
    on the soft moss and rest; then
    on they went, still wandering
    through the wood without think-
    ing where they went.
    At last they reached a hut
    built of logs. The door was 4
    open. Hetty peeped in. .
    "There is nobody at home," .
    she whispered to Edith. "Come .
    in. Let us eat our lunch here.
    I have brought some biscuits, I
    and there is plenty of water in
    the brook there."
    "But," said Edith, "suppose
    the man comes back."
    "What man ?" cried Hetty.
    "The owner of the house, do you mean ?" Edith followed her cousin into the hut. There
    "Yes. Perhaps he would be very angry, and set was a rough table, a stool for a chair, and a heap of
    his dog at us to bite us." straw in the corner for a bed.
    "How do you know he has a dog ?" asked IIetty. When Hetty and Edith saw this bed they ut-
    "Men in forests always keep dogs, and such tered a scream and stood still.
    great dogs too! My story-book says they kill A man was lying upon the bed !
    people sometimes. Naughty people, I suppose." "Oh, come away," whispered Edith. "He may
    "We are not naughty," said Hetty boldly, "so wake up and hurt us."
    come in." Edith's brother had often read to them stories of


    robbers that lived in woods, and one of these stories We do not mean any harm, sir," said Hetty.
    now came into her mind. But Hetty was a brave "We thought the house was empty."
    little girl, and she said- Then the girl went up closer and saw the man
    "No, Edith; perhaps the poor man is ill. If we looked very ill. She plucked up her courage and
    help him he will not hurt us. Don't you remember said-
    what the clergyman said on Sunday ? We should "Are you not well, sir ? Can we help you ?"
    help the sick and maimed." The man laughed harshly.
    "But perhaps he is not sick, and if he is a bad "Help me !-me! No; no one can help me. I'm
    man he may kill us or keep us here-- dying-dying! "
    "Oh! but we can fetch a doctor," cried
    S------- Edith. "Poor man! you must not die.
    X44* ---- Perhaps you are not ready to go to heaven."
    -_ "Heaven Don't talk to me of heaven. I
    am too wicked to think of it."
    "No one is too wicked," said Hetty softly,
    -. as she went up to the straw bed and knelt
    down beside the sick man. "You must not
    S, 'say that. Christ died for wicked people, our
    clergyman says."
    ~ ~l" Ah! yes; but I have been too wicked
    Small my life. Let me die in peace."
    St a i "He can't die in peace now, Hetty,"
    uLwhispered Edith. "Let us run home and tell
    "mamma and fetch Doctor Jacobs."
    S"We will go and fetch you some nice
    I r y food," said tHetty after pause. "Poor man!
    I I am so sorry for you !"
    S"Are ye, miss?" said the rough-looking
    man. Heaven bless ye for that Will ye
    S give me a drink of water, miss "
    -Hetty did so, and covered the man up as
    well as she could with the old blankets she
    "Now, Edith, let us run home and fetch
    the doctor. We will come back again very
    "- soon, my poor man."
    Take Tyke with ye, to show ye the shortest
    .. way. Here, Tyke-go with them, boy."
    -___"_,__Z ._ Tyke quite understood his master. He run
    to the door, w,1_.-,:,l his tail, and looked round
    as much to say, Conle on, please."
    Before Edith had finished speaking a dog rushed So Hetty and Edith hurried away through the
    in and began to jump upon the girls and lick their wood, and very quickly got into the high road.
    hands. He then went to the man on the bed and Tyke took a short cut, but as soon as he saw the
    licked his face. girls safe in the road he ran back again to the hut.
    The man woke up and raised himself upon his "Let us hurry," said Hetty. "Can you run,
    elbow. Edith ? "
    "Who are you ? he said in a weak voice. Speak "Yes," said Edith; and away they ran home as
    out, for I cannot hear very well." fast as they could.


    II," -

    I , '.



    'Jil fIf f ______


    But when they got home Edith's mamma was out, "We must take him something as we promised,"
    and the nurse told them they were late for their said Edith firmly-" mustn't we, Hetty ?"
    dinner. Mrs. Moncton had been very angry, and "Of course," said Hetty. "I'm sure nurse will
    she was obliged to go without them for the promised help us-won't you, nursie, good, kind nurse ?"
    drive. And she kissed her affectionately.
    "Oh, nurse, never mind dinner now. We have "Ah! Miss Hetty, you know how to get your
    own way. I'll ask cook for some-
    --J _- -hii._., and I declare if there isn't
    Doctor Jacobs now."
    Hetty ran to the window and
    Si waved her hand to the doctor to
    stop. lIe did so, and came up to
    the door.
    What is the matter, little
    lk tolady ?" he said. "You cannot
    want me to prescribe for such rosy
    cheeks as those, Im sure. What
    is it ? "
    "Oh, Doctor Jacobs, we want
    you so much. We have found a
    poor man so sick in the hut in
    the wood, and
    Will you go and see him?"
    Sminterrupted Edith. "Please do-
    we promised you would-and you
    .. shall have all my pocket-money."
    "And mine too," added Hetty,
    taking out her small purse.
    "My dear little friends," said
    Al _the doctor, much touched by the
    self-denial exhibited by the chil-
    dren, "tell me where the man
    is and I will go and see him as
    soon as I can, without any pocket-
    "IIe is in the wood, and we are
    "' going to take him some food."
    S"Very well," said the doctor;
    ,2j "' go on to the gate into the wood
    and wait for me. I'll meet you
    S.. there very soon."
    "I woInder what they have got
    found such a poor man so ill in the wood. We into their kind little hearts," thought the doctor as
    promised to take the doctor to see him. Will you he drove away. "Some tramp probably, who
    help us ? will rob them, very likely, when he gets an oppor-
    "What mischief have you been about, I should tunity."
    like to know? said the nurse. "A sick man That Meantime Hetty and Edith had got a basketful
    will never do. You may catch fevers or some- of things from the cook. They went to the gate
    thing !" and waited for the carriage.


    "Listen," said Hetty. I think I hear the sound The doctor examined him.
    of the wheels." "How did you get here?" he said at last. "I
    She was right. In a few minutes the doctor's think I have seen you before, have I not ?"
    carriage drove up and he got out. "Yes, sir," replied the man humbly.
    "Now," said he, "let us go and see this patient of "What is your name?" asked the doctor.
    yours, young ladies." "Robert Cattlin, sir." said the sick man.

    barked loudly with delight. Yes, sir. I've been out of prison, sir, a month, and
    very ill. a ter an nie of Mr. Moncton, whom you
    10, Iiiii

    II IlI

    I I I- I IIIiiI

    easily. As they advanced the dog mt them and yonder, and was sent to prison?"

    4Oh, here is Tyke!" cried Hetty. "Come along." have got this fever, or consumption, or whatever it is."

    very ill. daughter and niece of Mr. Moncton, whom you
    i------ -- -~ --~ ~ .. .--i ..=-z ------ -.

    --=--2------ --- : ... =

    very ill. daughter and niece of Mr. Dloncton, whom you


    robbed and nearly killed that night on the moor. i day. They told him of the lovi g :aviour, and of
    You ought to be left alone where you are, I think." all God's goodness to sinners, and at last poor
    "Oh no!" exclaimed Edith. "Papa forgave him Robert, the thief and robber, began to think he
    at the trial, I know, and, Doctor Jacobs, we can for- too might be pardoned. The clergyman came and
    give him too. Try to cure him, please." saw him, and Mr. Moncton also, and forgave him
    "It is no use, my dear. Poor fellow! he cannot heartily.
    live long. His days are numbered. I will have One day a message came for Hetty and Edith.
    you moved to the hospital at once." Poor Robert was dying.
    So Robert. Cattlin was taken to the hospital. "I've not long to live, and I've asked to be
    Edith or Hetty went to read to him nearly every allowed to see you once again. IHeaven bless you! I
    did not deserve any pity. I
    -- knew nothing of God and His
    7i j goodness till you found me lying
    -_ -in the wood. I hope I am for-
    S -. .' given, anl that I shall see your
    -_ .... _: sweet faces in heaven azgin."
    Sl The girlB shook hands with
    !. him ; then he said--" Take care of
    S10poor Tyke. God b1lc-s you both!"
    SHe fell back, a calm happy
    smile upon his face, dead, in the
    act of blessillg those good kind
    girls who had saved him from a
    worse than mortal death-from
    the death eternal. They cried a
    little when they saw the poor man
    was dead, but they knelt down
    and prayed that God would
    make them good and obedient all
    their lives. They took great care
    12 Iof Tyke, who proved very faith-
    '.ful to them. They had another
    dog, which they used to take to
    t > the wood sometimes, but they
    SIpreferred to have Tyke. When
    Edith's little sister was old
    enough to hear the story of him
    and his master, she became more
    fond of Tyke than all the
    IIe went to the woods every
    (lay to look for his master, and
    when the children met him there,
    they would stop to pat him on
    .-A i the head and talk to him.

    /^ ~~~~~*' N-'^''1 ^ w *^"/
    ^ ~ ~~~ w-" '-i -',^c-'^

    & -I '

    ;T~~ I

    ..OMW -1-
    ^ -'^ ^k'; .; -^'^t q

    -c i


    A; i~l .'

    or .1_h-

    It~ 0 p

    THE children had been out with nurse all the determinedly ; "not a baby bear, like those in the
    morning, watering the flowers, and tying up the vines, picture book, but a big, ugly bear, and eat Ernest
    and now they were in the nursery, and Ida and here."
    Ernest were playing with the Blue Doll, which they But a big bear in the nursery could not be allowed
    were not allowed to take out of doors. for a moment. Even on the stairs a big bear would

    "I won't be the Blue Doll's papa any longer! be an unpleasant neighbor. So the Blue Doll thought
    exclaimed Ernest, as he got off his chair. "I'm tired as Ida took it up in her arms.
    of it !" The Blue Dolly's eyes opened at once, and this is
    Very well, then," replied his sister, who was what Dolly saw:
    the Blue Doll's marmma-" very well, then; I'll A large nursery, hung round with pictures. There
    go and b, a big bear on the stairs, and eat you was Little Red Riding Hood and the Wolf," Wait
    up for Me," and many other pretty colored plates, in
    You must not go out on the lobby, dear," said nice gilt frames. A clock was on the chimney-piece
    the nurse. and it ticked so loudly, that the doll thou, ht that there
    "Then I'll be a bear under this table," replied Ida, was something alive inside. On the floor was a little


    boy, amusing himself with a puzzle, which looked (perhaps in the accident), and had only three legs
    very puzzled indeed, and tried to appear as if it liked and a stump of his tail left. The camels had also
    being pulled to pieces. A Noah's ark was near the suffered, for they had only one head between them;
    window. The animals out of the ark had, apparently, so what the other camel did when he wanted to eat
    been brought to a standstill by a train which had his dinner, the Blue Dolly could not imagine. Ja-
    stopped at a brick station near the fender. I think phet had been upset and was under the engine, while


    ~ ~ -----~.'~ *---

    there must have been an accident on the line, for the poor Ham was frizzling on the hob, and all his paint
    engine was lying on its side, and two carriages were was blistered-indeed, some had come off, and his
    broken. So Noah and some of his family could not coat looked very shabby.
    cross the railroad, and there they stood, buttoned up "Dear me thought the Blue Dolly, what is
    in their long, tight coats, waiting for the train to going to happen next, I wonder ?"
    go on. Willie, who was pulling the puzzle of the world
    The elephant-poor thing!-had lost his trunk to pieces, now got up and gave it a kick, which sent


    a part of Africa into the Arctic Ocean, and a large room. She stepped over the train, without stopping
    slice of Turkey in Asia into Russia in Europe. to help the passengers, and presented herself at the
    I will keep a shop he exclaimed, and I'll sell shop.
    Noah, and Ham, and animals "What have you got to-day, Mr. Butcher ? she
    It was of no use for Noah and his family to pro- asked, politely.
    test against this arbitrary young gentleman's pro- "Well, ma'am, we have some very fine cocks and
    ceedings. In a moment he and two of his sons and hens, a sirloin of tiger, or a good bunch of camels,"
    their wives, and poor Mrs. Noah, were all seized and was the butcher's reply, "very cheap, indeed."
    put on the counter. The elephant, a tiger, a sheep "I don't like tiger this time of year," said the
    a goat, a camel, two flies, a horse, etc., were also lady, and my Dolly is not old enough to eat camel
    added to the stock in trade of this young butcher, yet. I think I'll have a fox. How much are they
    and hung up with bits of thread to the back of a to-day, please? "
    chair. "Four dollars," replied the youthful butcher, after
    "Now you must come and buy something," some hesitation. "They were quite fresh this
    said the butcher, when he had completed his morning."
    shop. "Oh that is too dear," said the customer. "I'll
    So Ida, carrying her baby, walked round the give you three shillings. Those buttons are shil-


    lings, you know, Willie," added the young lady, in Yes, dear; but it was not a fox," said the
    familiar explanation to the butcher, nurse.
    All right, ma'am," replied the butcher. Can No-I forgot that," replied Ida. That makes
    we send it for you ? a difference, of course. Send your boy up with it,
    Yes, please, to Number One Iatfield Street, and then, Mr. Butcher, if you please, at once. And now,
    soon as you can, as it is for the children's early din- Dolly, you must go to sleep."
    ner. But, after all, perhaps I'd better take it myself." So Ida laid the Blue Dolly down on the floor. Its
    No, you mu.i t, Ida," said Ernest. I am the eyes shut, and it could not see anything more that
    butcher's boy. Nurse, is Ida to carry home the morning.
    meat ? I want to." Ernest insisted upon having the fox to take home,
    "No, dear-ladies do not carry home meat for and Willie concluded to let it hang where it was.
    dinner," said nurse, promptly. In the scuffle over it, the butcher's shop was knocked
    "Yes, they do; mamuna did once-it was mutton all to pieces, as if by an earthquake, and the children
    chops-;d she's a lady," retorted Ida. ran into the yard to jump the rope.



    A v.,_ ",


    -o ,


    6 -

    MARTIN HEYDT was a Dutch boy, who lived in trial and the sentence, Martin sat, in a drizzling rain,
    Holland. His father was a fisherman. When Mar- in the hollow gateway of the city prison. He passed
    tin was a very little boy, his home was a very happy all the night there, weeping for his father in the cell
    one. Then his grandmother died, and then his two within. As the gray light grew clearer, a small iron
    little sisters. This so grieved his kind mother, that wicket in the grim gate shot back. The jailer's face
    she grew sick, and at last she died, and there was looked through the upright bars.
    only Martin and his father left. He had always "Are you there, my boy?" he asked, trying to
    loved his father, but now he loved him more than soften his gruff voice. When the jailer closed the
    ever. window in the gate for the last time the night be-
    For a time all went as well as could be expected, fore, he left Martin sitting with his back against the
    till his father lost his boat in a storm; and after wall. This cold weather," he now said, will be
    that, he had hard work to make a living for himself the death of you, as well as your father having to
    and his little boy. At last, driven by want, Andrew die. You can't help him; but that isn't your fault.
    Heydt took to -iiiii. 1in, was detected and tried, If he had a great many friends, they might save him
    and sentenced to be hung. yet."
    Just as morning was breaking the day after the "I love him," Martin said. "If he had all the
    _--." .,4, = L.. -,.'

    i ._ _- .. __ -...

    MARTIN HEYT)T was a T)Ut~lL bo," h 2--d _n .. .ra .n -,e "-tece "'L ainadizln
    --.--l Hi "ahe .... "7a--,-'.._::. .....ma --n a-. ,,ntehlo aewyo h iy~isn ~ ~l
    ,i .... --' --_- 7{-. e oy i _.._ e .-s .-.-. _a p .. :_-:_. the n__-_ :--;_-- -_-in fo ;h r n
    ; ---.- .- e -. ---- : -:'-- -: :i... ""_ ': "" --:-. ";';* "- -r b ";'g_ ..7 clr~r a 2:--'--5": - '
    l..'-l ,":...,,-.. .li~ :o .ivr I....;. il .n thr -ha ._ wile ..in_. ,., grl q h tb c bh:jllr 8
    .----he.-. --e :_ck :... a .as "h :le~ --7- h r was ,_.,_-!'g te pight
    only~~ ~ ~~..- IlatnaLl i ate lf ,_ ha .. --..-.-.-: .'.ir yo te, by"- -. se, rig
    lo e his fater b.u-t- .. ..:- _e . et :- -.-:' m_ .._. t.. _..e -i r f o. W h .. --: .a e .. _.. .-_
    --r --: .'.o ... .h .. ... fo --e ...... -im --- ni.- ---b--eo .--.-- -",. '-= ..


    friends in the world, they could not love him more. alone, especially since he lost his wife. The boy, going
    Will not that do ?" forward across the great silent square reached the
    Indeed, it won't," answered the hard face be- loftily towering cathedral. All at once he stopped,
    hind the bars, laughing coarsely. But the jailer as if he had been turned into one of the carved stone
    instantly stopped his mirth, and threw a small silver figures standing here and there along the richly orna-
    coin on the flagstones. Get you something warm mented front, and high up on the pinnacles. He
    to eat this cold morning, and cheer up," he added. counted upon his fingers: One, two, three, four-
    Then he sharply closed the small square window, four days before the time ? Oh, let me try! Clasp-
    The boy started at the ring of the coin on the ing his hands, he went down on his knees and
    pavement, and the clatter of the iron grating. At prayed.
    first, the noise had sounded in his ears like the clank- Then, rising to his feet, away he sped, seeming to
    ing of his father's fetters. But he thankfully picked forget all his want of rest and his hunger. The city
    up the money, and slowly turned away from the was hardly awake yet, and Martin did so want
    prison gate. He began to talk with himself as he everybody to be stirring.
    went. The jailer said there might be hope if my He ran on through the town and out into the
    father had friends." Martin tried to think what country. The sun grew higher, and the flowers
    friends, and how many, his father had. He sadly opened their blossoms and invited him to stop. The
    shook his head. Andrew Heydt was only a fisher- grasshoppers chirped, and everything seemed to
    man, and he had not a large number of acquaint- say : "Come out to play come out to play !" The
    ances even among his own sort. He had lived much children shouted to him to stop and play, but he ran
    on. In the edge of a park, a
    boy with his hoop pointed to
    the end of a rainbow which ap-
    peared over a distant fountain,
    and called him to look at it, but
    S. he hardly turned his head. In
    [ .a field, some children were play-
    ing games, just as Martin had
    often played them, but he could
    not join them now. He finally
    turned and ran back to the city.
    The streets were b'y that time full
    of people, but nobody noticed
    A street musician was playing
    beautifully and a crowd of
    children were listening. At any
    other time Martin would have
    stopped to listen too, but now he
    hastened on.
    "Oh, my child! Stop the
    horses !" shrieked a woman, with
    uplifted arms.
    I She had just come to the door of
    A her house to look for her infant, at
    .\j the very moment it had crawled
    off the pavement into the road. A
    ., .- I jingling dray was thundering a-
    long, and the child was in the act


    of being trodden under the heavy feet of the horses. Before the woman could say more, Martin was
    Swiftly as the mother darted forward, she was too speeding down the street. There is one friend for
    late. But just before the mighty hoofs trampled father," he murmured to himself.
    the baby, a slight figure bounded in front, snatch- Hurrying on, he saw a porter carrying a burden
    ing it from danger. It was Martin Heydt. As the which overhung his face, blinding his sight. The

    - ---- ---


    mother clasped her child to her bosom, she put out man was going straight in a line where stood a tall
    a shaking hand to Martin, saying: ladder reared against the front of a building. Aloft
    "Tell me, how I shall reward you." on the ladder were two men nailing a signboard. A
    "Be a friend to my father," was the answer. moment more, and the porter's burden would cer-
    "Who is he ?" tainly knock down the ladder. Vainly the men,
    "Andrew Heydt-the man condemned." who, at the last moment found out their danger,


    shouted to him. Luckily for them, Martin, leaping By-and-by, glancing in at a merchant's store, he
    forward like a deer, pushed the porter aside just as saw a cask from which wine was leaking in a stream.
    his bundle grazed the ladder. Another cask had fallen on it, partly crushing it.
    You have saved our lives," said the trembling "Hi shouted Martin, giving the alarm.
    men, hastening down the ladder, with very pale "It is the Burgomaster's wine," gasped the shop-
    faces. What can we give you ?" They put their keeper. The loss of it would have been my ruin.
    hands into their pockets. How shall I repay you, my boy ? "
    Martin had only one reply for
    everybody : "Be a friend to my
    .i .father, the man condemned."
    Then, as he went on his way, lihe
    counted afresh on his fingers:
    My father has four friends now."
    IIe heard a cry of "Fire!" in
    a dwelling. Up the staircase lihe
    pA 1 il`,. making where the flames
    crackled. But for his boldness,
    an old woman would have been
    burnt to death. The neighbors,
    Scouring out of their houses,
    [ II gathered round Martin, all ready
    .with their praise. When they
    -1; asked him who he was, lie said,
    "I am Martin, the son of the man
    : Iwho is to die-be a friend to iimy
    poor father."
    J. Throughout that long day,
    --I-1 "scarcely giving himself time to
    eat, the brave little fellow hurried
    "" about the town, ever on the look-
    out for a service to be done for
    anybodyo, and always he named
    his condemned father as the one
    to whom the gratitude was to be
    -paid. Late in the evening, very
    weary, he arrived at the prison
    ",Igate. IIe had again come there
    to pass the night, wishing to get
    as near as the walls would let
    him to his father.
    S" Are you there again? asked
    W_1 (the jailer, speaking through the
    iron wicket in the great door.
    Quickly Martin said: "Be a friend to my father." "I have gained thirteen friends for my father,"
    The amazed men asked who his father was. eagerly replied Martin, rising to his tired feet.
    "Andrew I-Ieydt-the man condemned." The jailer asked what this meant, and after hear.-
    Again Martin hurried on his way, saying: "Two ing everything, he advised Mfartin to ask all who
    more-that makes three friends gained for my promised to help his father to meet on the third even-
    father." i ing in the square before the Burgomaster's house.


    I ii

    ...... ....


    4t !
    ... .

    -4C hkl-I~B

    1'1'1-1." X W x
    ~ -~-=-==~ r-~;~~-~~-I-


    .. ... .. ...

    Was-- _=--=--s


    Untiringly, during the next day, and the next, so faithful and brave a son to love him. Martin did
    and the day after that, Martin pursued his task. It not slacken his efforts. He was nearly worn out,
    was marvelous what he found to do for people, and looked as pale as a little ghost, but every hour
    simply by going about everywhere looking out for he was doing something for somebody, begging them
    chances. All the reward he ever asked for was that all to pity his father.
    those he helped would plead for his father. On At last, the evening before the fatal morning
    Wednesday, he was so fortunate as to be hurrying came. To the great surprise of the Burgomaster,
    across the quay when a boat upset in the harbor. the public square rapidly filled with people, all
    He leaped from the pier with a cable lying there. shouting Andrew Heydt's name. The Burgomaster
    In this way he was the means of saving three lives, and his wife appeared at an open window.
    though one man was drowned. The port was all "You are mistaken," he said to the crowd. Why
    roused by this act of bravery. As Martin stood, drip- have you assembled here to-night? You cannot see
    ping wet, in the midst of the crowd of seamen, mer- the execution till morning."
    chants, and others, he begged them, with clasped hands We do not want to see it," roared back the mul-
    and tearful eyes, to be friends to his father. On being titude. Give Andrew Heydt his life."
    asked who his father was, the old answer came- The Burgomaster brought forward a large paper
    "Andrew Heydt, the man who is to die." in his hand. He said: His pardon is here already,
    A score of voices shouted: for I knew your wishes. I give him his life, not for
    "We will-we will !" his own sake, but for that of his brave son."
    It began to be known in the town what Martin The square re-echoed with cheers, and Martin's
    was trying for, and everybody sympathized with him. father was at once set free. He obeyed the law ever
    Those who had felt no care about the father's fate, after, and Martin himself, as he grew up, prospered
    began to be interested in him just because he had greatly, for he had won everybody's heart.

    -L ... ,

    fi O C:

    0 c' "..
    ..,== -- .I r ,


    r,. j. -, '
    \~ )'

    .K ... ,,II 1 1

    ii -----_
    -I 3

    -- -' -
    -_.. ....,_ ..- ...
    -,. d _ ..__ .. ._ ...... -
    : -- __ .: Y

    -~~~~~~~ ~~~ .-. .. ,, .... .

    r ll ,-J _. .... -, -


    -- , ", -- ---
    .. ,N-_ ____ ____

    PuG was a dog. You need not have been told and Clara. They had been catching crabs, and
    that, am I sure; for no one ever saw a boy or a girl they put them on the dry sand, away from the tide,
    named Pug, and I don't believe any animal but a and covered them with wet seaweed, so that they
    dog is ever called by such a name. But it is not would be contented to stay there while they looked
    about the name that I want to tell you; for a dog's for more. When they came back, there was Pug,
    name don't make the least difference with his sitting up straight and crying like a baby, with a
    character. Whatever you may think of Pug's name, great crab hanging to his forepaw. Hie had
    it was not half so bad as he was himself. Not that scratched the seaweed all away, and nearly all the
    he was really bad, you must understand, in biting crabs had escaped. Fred was dreadfully angry at
    people, as some dogs do; but he was mischievous, the loss of the crabs, and he was going to strike Pug
    and that is sometimes no better than being actually with his shovel, but Clara held him back, and said:
    bad. "No; don't drive him away. We will take him
    I cannot tell you where Pug came from, or how home and keep him."
    old he is, or whether he ever had a father or a "He is not our dog," said Fred. If we take
    mother to teach him good manners. The first that him home it will be stealing."
    I knew of him, he was found on the beach by Fred "Not if he has no other owner," said Clara.
    , I


    " Poor fellow Ie must be lost. We will try to friends with him. I do not blame her, for Pug was
    find his owner; and if we cannot find his master, we so mischievous and annoying that no cat could live
    will take him home." in peace with him. He would slyly steal her milk,
    To make my story short, I will say that they and if she caught him at it, and boxed his ears as lie
    never found his rightful owner, though for a long deserved, he would cry, and then Clara would come

    I he they asked everybody they met. Fred said he and quite likely whip the cat for fighting. Puss
    guessed that he rained down, but Clara knew that had three little kittens, which she kept in a basket.
    it never rains dogs. Before Pug came she could leave them by them-
    IV' 'q

    When they got him home, he was admired by selves and go and hunt mice in the barn, or look for
    everybody that the gained who never would make ad three rabbits in the fields. But now sie dare not
    it never rains logs. Before Pug came she could leave them by them-
    When they got him home, he was admired by selves and go and hunt mice in the barn, or look for
    everbody but the cat, who never would make young rabbits in the fields. But now she dare not

  • University of Florida Home Page
    © 2004 - 2010 University of Florida George A. Smathers Libraries.
    All rights reserved.

    Acceptable Use, Copyright, and Disclaimer Statement
    Last updated October 10, 2010 - - mvs