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Title: Bright jewels for little people
CITATION THUMBNAILS PAGE TURNER PAGE IMAGE ZOOMABLE
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Permanent Link: http://ufdc.ufl.edu/UF00054521/00001
 Material Information
Title: Bright jewels for little people
Physical Description: 246 p. : ill. (some col.) ; 24 cm.
Language: English
Creator: Murdock, Mary
Elliott & Beezley (Firm) ( Publisher )
Publisher: Elliott & Beezley
Place of Publication: Chicago
Publication Date: 1889, c1887
Copyright Date: 18891887
 Subjects
Subject: Children's poetry   ( lcsh )
Children's stories   ( lcsh )
Juvenile literature -- 1889   ( rbgenr )
Bldn -- 1889
Genre: Juvenile literature   ( rbgenr )
fiction   ( marcgt )
Spatial Coverage: United States -- Illinois -- Chicago
United States -- Pennsylvania -- Philadelphia
 Notes
Statement of Responsibility: edited by Mary Murdock.
General Note: Imprint also notes publisher's location in Philadelphia.
 Record Information
Bibliographic ID: UF00054521
Volume ID: VID00001
Source Institution: University of Florida
Holding Location: University of Florida
Rights Management: All rights reserved by the source institution and holding location.
Resource Identifier: notis - AHC2165
alephbibnum - 001509229
oclc - 21586150

Table of Contents
    Front Cover
        Front Cover 1
        Front Cover 2
    Frontispiece
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    Title Page
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    Main
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BRIGHT


JEWELS


FOR LITTLE PEOPLE





EDITED BY
MARY MURDOCK


ELLIOTT


&


BEEZLEY


CHICAGO AND PHILADELPHIA


1889.









































COPYRIGHTED BY
L. T. PALMER.
1887.















THE


TREASURE


BOX.


The delightful day of days for us
children was at hand-the day with
the rejoicing sunshine and the stirring
.rass, the bird-song and the laughing
ilacs. Every May all these felicities
haunted the old, old house in the coun-
try, where Grandmother lived; and
every May, we children, Clara, Charlie,
Norrie and Ralph, went to spend a
week with her.
O, I think there never was a Grand-
mother like ours. Our pranks made
her laugh till the tears came; and our
boisterous racing through sitting-room
and kitchen, including the tumbling up
and down the garret stairs, never seemed
to disturb her.
We had a choice of two or three
pleasant things: There was the Park,
and for vacation nothing could be more
crowded with delights for any one that
hadn't a Grandmother. Then there
were the menageries-Well! those ani-
mals, and the wonderful stories told of
them by their keepers, had been a
round of pleasure, ever fresh and
exciting.
But the elephant might smoke a pipe
or dance a jig, and the goggle-eyed
parrot might put his book under his
wing, and trot off, saying,--" I'm going
to Sunday-school;" or the monkeys
might perform on the banjoes, or play
base-ball by pitching the little monkeys
from one to the other. These things
were within every day's possibility, but
we had tired of them.
We hesitated to go, only once, and
that for only half a day, when four


stylish invitations came from our dear
friends in Courtland avenue, request-
ing the pleasure of our company at a
birthday party. The affair was to be
attended with much elegance and for-
mality.
0, dear, it couldn't be compared with
the fun at Grandmother's house; with
herself and Betty, and old Towser and
the kittens, with the garret, the pea-
cock, and Old Dan'l, the horse!
To Grandmother's we would go, and
we went. Wasn't she glad to see us ?
My little room had a round window
in it, and there was a pink flush on the
lace curtain in the morning, and I
looked, and a very old apple-tree had
stretched its mossy bough across since
last summer, and it was full of blossoms.
I suspect there was a robin's nest some-
where in its green nooks, which should
be investigated further on.
The yellow butterflies, the blue sky,
the lazy stream that wound away under
the cedars and birches; the barn-yard,
-all things in this enchanted world
contributed their share of supreme
happiness, and we could think of but
one place that we had not visited, and
that was the garret.
Up the old stairs we raced, and as I
jumped upon its rough floor, I was
arrested in my frolic by the beautiful
pictures the windows at either end
revealed.
Out of that farther one could be seen
a grove of pine trees that were really
at quite a distance, and they seemed
to be so near; only a patch of buff sky








at one corner was seen, with a distant
spire, and a hint of clover fields on an
upland.
The paths that ran between the trees
seemed unreal and mysterious. A dim
company of blue mountains took up
the other'window; and from my place
on the floor I could see a large bird go
sailing down out of sight.
A play-house had been made for us
years ago, and every thing to which we
had taken an especial fancy had been
put in here to adorn it. There were
oddly-figured matting on the floor,
brown, worm-eaten blinds, and yellow
Indian curtains on the half-moon
window.
A dresser was at the side whereon
we had placed every thing novel and
beautiful that we had collected in our
searches. A striped chintz-covered
rocking-chair; a hobby-horse that had
lost his tail; a music-box that could be
made to play by turning a handle, and
emitted sounds that only the pride of
ownership led any of us to endure.
But, perfect as was our satisfaction,
there were times when we longed to
investigate certain dark corners of the
garret, that were filled with rubbish
and discarded furniture that had up to
this time been too heavy for us to
move.
There was one place, withdrawn into
the shadows of the sloping roof, that
especially forced itself upon our atten-
tion.
We tip-toed round the great spinning-
wheel that stood guard over this fairy
cavern; but there was no place at which
we could enter; we stood baffled, but
not in the least discouraged.
I think, if that thing could be pulled
out, we could see what was behind it,"
said Charlie.
"Ha! ha! ha! That's a brilliant
idea," said Ralph. Then meditating a
moment, he said, with authority:
"The only thing to do is to quietly
move that old concern a little, every
once-in-a-while, and we can soon make
a place large enough to creep through."


"Es, an' me too!" said Norrie, with
enthusiasm, as she remembered with
pleasure her former style of locomotion.
We all "put our shoulders to the
wheel," but, dear me, it wouldn't
budge. With short breath and flushed
faces, we stood quite disappointed; our
united strength went for so little.
We concluded it was best to give it
up for the present, as the supper bell
rung its welcome call.
Next afternoon we went about it in
ood earnest, and the sun was two
ours high yet, when the spinning-
wheel had been pushed just enough to
allow us to squeeze in.
It Looked dark and uncanny in there,
sure enough, but Charlie very bravely
got himself in first, and in a moment
he had disappeared. What was our
surprise to hear him cry out and come
flying back, with white face, exclaiming:
"There's an awful man in there He
opened his jaws when he saw me!"
This startled us, and we fled, drag-
ging Charlie with us. We rallied on
the landing, however, and questioned
Charlie, sharply; but he told the same
odd story, and nothing could induce
the frightened boy to go in again. We
listened; all was still. We went up
softly, and approached the place, by
easy stages. There was nothing to
terrify any one. Charlie could always
tell big yarns.
Ralph and I were older and braver,
and we determined to go in. It was a
pretty tough squeeze to get by the
spinning-wheel, and then a little dark
lane led away down into the shadow,
and right down at the end, where a
beam of sunlight, that came through a
knot-hole, struck the beam, leered a
hideous face!
"Ralph," I said faintly, "I must go
back."
He caught hold of my dress, and the
blood flushed into his face, and he
stood, compelling me to remain. I trem-
bled so that I could hardly stand. That
one ray of sunshine cutting the gloom,
like a sword; that maniac face shining








in it; the shapes of lion's claws and
birds' beaks that became every mo-
ment more distinct as I looked, could
not be endured another minute. But
Ralph pulled me along with him. I
still think he wanted company, and
was as much frightened as I.
"Don't be a goose, Clara!" he said.
"It hasn't moved a muscle since we've
been here. Hooray! Mr. Goblin, just
step down here, and be good company!"
"Dood tumpany!" screamed Norrie
on the outside.
Ralph dragged out a fishing-pole, and
gave the creature a poke. It fell, and he
ran and picked up a mask. Putting it
up to his face, he made a deep bow and
said: "At your service, lady.
Nothing could keep the others out
now, and we all laughed together, long
and loud.
We looked, and wondered at every
thing in the gloom. The sights were
most satisfactory though, where the ray
of light fell, and following it on its dusty
way down to the floor, it rested on a
queer-looking box, bound with tarnished
brass, on sides and corners. There was
something very fascinating in its ap-
pearance.
That we must take out and examine,"
said Ralph.
No sooner said than done; we pushed
it before us to our little play-house.
It was a most inviting box, for it
opened without any trouble, and what
did we not see in it?
Two great wax dolls lay on the top;
one dressed in crimson satin, the other
in blue, with real yellow hair and mov-
able eyes! These were lifted out, and
below lay a world of treasures.
There were fairy books, with dimly
gilded leaves and painted pictures; a
little white stuffed rabbit, that Norrie
claimed as soon as she saw it; a "jack-
in-the-box," that sprang out and laughed
in the most hilarious manner; a chess-
board, with the red and white chess-
men, lying scattered about; a whole
china tea-set ornamented with little but-
terflies; a cradle that had been trimmed


with ribbons that had been blue once,
but now were sadly faded; a Noah's
ark, but a good many of the animals
were missing; a box with a toy parlor
set of furniture, some of which was
badly broken; a real little brass shovel
and tongs, and tiny bellows.
Ralph hunted out an old, well-
thumbed book, which proved to be
Robinson Crusoe. He turned to the
fly-leaf, and read:
"THIS IS MY BOOK." This was fol-
lowed by a cabalistic sign, and then the
figure of a hunter was sketched, shoot-
ingan owl on a tree very close by.
This made much merriment. But
something having caught Ralph's eye,
in the story, he sat down, and was so
absorbed in reading, that he wouldn't
come down to his supper, till it became
so dark, that he could no longer see.
These play-things once belonged to
our aunts and uncles, and Grandma
said she had been looking for that box
for two or three years.
O, what an inexhaustible source of
delight it was! And what a gorgeous
play-house we made with all it con-
tained !
We went back home, in such a state
of unbounded cheerfulness, so greatly
refreshed in mind and body, that there
must have been hidden away in that
treasure box a sweet spirit of love,
that somehow stole into our hearts.









"COME, LITTLE BIRD!"
"Come, little bird, I have waited some
time,
Light on my hand, and I'll give you
a dime.
I have a cage that will keep you warm,
Free from danger, and safe from storm."
"No, little lady, we cannot do that,
Not for a dime, nor a brand new hat.
We are so happy, and wild, and free,
Chee-dee-dee! Chee-dee-dee!"
"Fly, pretty bird, fly down, and take
Just a'crumb of my Christmas cake;
Santa Claus brought it to me, you
know,
Over the snow. Over the snow."
"Yes, we know of your home, so rare,
And stockings hung in the fire-light
there;
We peeped through the window-blinds
to see.
Chee-dee-dee! Chee-dee-dee! "
"We were on the button-ball tree,
Closer than we were thought to be;
Soon you may have us in to tea,
Chee-dee-dee! Chee-dee-dee!"

SIRENA'S TROUBLE.

Adalina Patti was .a doll of most
trying disposition. You couldn't tell,
when she woke up, what distracting
thing she'd do first. I've known her,
when seated at the breakfast table, in
her high chair, next to Sirena, her lit-
tle mamma, I have known her to jerk
suddenly forward, and plunge her face
right into a plate of buttered cakes and
syrup.
This necessitated the removing of
her from the table and a good deal of
cleansing and re-dressing on the part of
Bidelia, the hired girl.


She had movable eyes; they were
very lovely, but, if you'll believe it,
she'd screw them round, just to be con-
trary, so that she'd look cross-eyed for
hours together. No sweet persuasion
or threat of punishment could induce
her to look like a doll in her right mind.
This was not quite so bad though,
as the outlandish noises she made
when she didn't want to say "mamma,"
which she could do very distinctly when
she first arrived, at Christmas.
But a crisis in her petulant obstinacy
came, when she wouldn't sit still to
have her hair combed, and it looked
like a "hurrah's nest," her brother Bob
said. All her naughtiness came right
out then. She rolled one eye entirely
up in her head, and left it there, and
stared so wild with the other, that
Sirena gave her a pretty lively shake,
but she only dropped that eye and
rolled up the other.
This made her little mamma pause
and meditate. She got provoked as
she looked at her, and then she gave
her a double shake; then that bad doll
rolled up both her eyes, and nothing
could induce her to get them down
again.
Oh, dear! How many dreadful things
she looked like. There was a vicious
parrot in the park that made its eyes
ook just like Adalina's did, just before
it stuck its head through the bars of its
cage to bite people. And there was a
stone lady, that was named "Ceres,"
on one of the paths in the same park,
and she kept her eyes rolled up all the
time, greatly to the terror of Sirena
and Bidelia, who had to pass her in
coming home in the twilight. And
down street there was a tobacconist's
sign that represented a fairy queen,
with butterfly wings, taking a pinch of
snuff, and the weather had taken all
the paint off her eyes and she looked
simply hideous; and Sirena grasped
Bidelia very tight, till they got round
the corner. Now here was her lovely
French doll looking like them and cut-
ting up worse. She'd go to mamma


























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with this trouble as she did with all
others.
She put her doll down with her face
against the carpet, and taking hold of
her pink kid arm, dragged her, not
very gently, over the carpet to her
mother.
At that moment in bounced Rob,
who, immediately taking in the situa-
tion of affairs, exclaimed,-" Oh, don't
be so cruel to Adalina! Is she just
horrid ? You know, Rena, that's what
you are, sometimes, yourself. What's
the matter any way? What makes
you look so glum?"
"This doll is acting dreadful; just
look at her eyes!" said Sirena.
"You cant tell any thing by any
one's eyes, yours look like the 4th of
July, now, and you're a delightful lit-
tle girl, everybody says; you don't
whack things round, and scream, when
the flowers bloom in the spring."
He was to be repressed immediately.
Sirena looked at her mother.
"He wants to be funny, Sirena,"
said her mother, soothingly.
"Then he isn't funny; he's never
funny," said Sirena, drawing herself up
with dignity.
Totty Belmont says you're the teas-
enest, hatefulest boy, she knows! So
there," remarked Sirena.
"Oh, ho! I don't wonder the doll
is scared. Why don't you treat that
pretty creature with some considera-
tion ? Dragging her over the carpet,
and spoiling her pretty dress! Now
you'll see, just as soon as she comes to
me, because I'm good-looking and nice,
she'll put her eyes down and smile at
me as lovely as ever.
He took the doll and jumped it up
and down in the air, dancing about and
singing, "Tra-la."
As sure as the world! Down came
the eyes, and Adalina was her charm-
ing self again.
"Now you see," said Rob, "if you
want people to be good to you and love
you, you must not be rude and ill-na-
tured yourself. This doll is French,


and particular, and she just won't look
at cross little girls; so there! "
"I think," said her mamma, "that
Sirena will not get so angry with her
doll again. She looks as if she were
ashamed of it now. However disagree-
able we may think people are, it's
best to watch ourselves, lest in finding
fault with them, we fall into the same
errors."

LADY VIOLET,

My little love, with soft, brown eyes,
Looks shyly back at me,
Beneath the drooping apple bough,
She thinks I do not see.
I cannot choose, I laugh with her,
I catch her merry glee;
Or stay you near, or go you far,
Oh, little love, how sweet you are!

A hue, like light within a rose,
Is dimpling on her cheek,
It wins a grace, it deepens now
With every airy freak;
A love-light in the rose like this,
Ah, you may vainly seek;
It shines for me, no shadows mar,
Oh, little love, how fair you are!

My heart clings to her pretty words,
They will not be forgot;
My happy brain will not discern,
If they be wise or not.
To ever be so charmed, so blessed,
Ah, this were happy lot.
My own, shine ever like a star
Upon my life, so true you are.














7









A FISH STORY.

HOPE LEDYARD.

Six eager faces, all crowding around
to "see the picture!" Four of the faces
belong to girls--Edith and Mamie,
Birdie and Jeanie, while Al and Dick,
who are pretty big boys, "over ten,"
lean over the back of the chair.
"He's had a good catch," says Al.
"He's not caught those," says Dick,
while the girls look first at the picture
and then at the boys. "I guess that
fellow standing up in the boat is his
father. The men have caught the fish
and the boy takes them to sell. Why,
a fish as big as one of those fellows
could pull a boy right into the water,
easy!'
"My brother Dick knows," whispers
Jeanie, proudly. "He took me fishing
-once and I caught two fish."
The little girls look as if they could
hardly believe this, so Jeanie pulls
mamma's arm and asks, "Didn't I catch
two fish last summer?"
"Indeed she did," says Dick, before
mamma has time to answer. "She
caught two sun-fish. JI never saw any
one do it better. Mother fried 'em for
her dinner, too."
"My sister goes to a cooking school
and learns to bake fish," says Edith,
"and she is teaching me at home. I
know the verse about cooking fish."
We all begged Edith to say the
verse, so, after a little coaxing, she
repeated:
"Our lesson is fish, and in every dish
We would like to meet our teacher's
wish.
But many men have many minds,
There are many fishes of many kinds;
So we only learn to boil and bake,
To broil and fry, and make a fish-cake,
And trust this knowledge will carry us
through
When other fishes we have to 'do.'"


Edith is a little orphan girl who lives
with her grandmother and sister Min-
nie. We are all so interested about
the cooking class, that she tells us
about how they learn to bake bread.
"I mixed the bread last Friday night
and made some biscuit in the morning,
and if I hadn't forgotten the salt they
would have been splendid. I don't
remember all the verses about bread,
but one verse is:
'Now you place it in the bread bowl,
A smooth and nice dough ball,
Last, a towel and a cover,
And at night that's all.
But when morning calls the sleeper
From her little bed,
She can make our breakfast biscuit
From that batch of bread."'

"Well, it's girls' work to cook and
boys' work to catch," said Al, who was
getting tired of hearing verses.
"Jeanie did some catching before she
was five years old, and you forget how
nicely papa cooked the breakfast when
you were camping out last summer."
"I suppose his cooking, like Jeanie's
fishing, was just an accident."
"No, indeed! Good cooking has to
be learned," I said, and this picture
makes me think of the first fish I had
to cook, and what a foolish girl I had."
"Oh, mamma's going to tell us a
story about when she was a girl,"
Jeanie exclaims. So all take seats-
Jeanie on my lap, the boys on the two
arms of my chair, and the three little
sisters on chairs or footstools.
Not about when I was a girl, but
about when I was a very young wife.
You boys know that I had always
lived in a big house in the city, where
the servants did all the cooking and
such work, while I practiced music
or studied or visited my Sunday-school
scholars. I was just as fond of them
in those days as I am now. Well!








Your papa took me to a dear little
house, far, far away, near Lake George.
I had a very young girl to help me
about the house, who did not know
any thing about cooking. I thought I
knew a good deal, for I had learned to
bake bread, and roast meat and make a
cup of tea or coffee. I had just as
much fun keeping house in that little
cottage as Jeanie has playing house up
stairs. But one day papa went off in a
hurry and forgot to ask me what I
wanted for dinner. He was to bring a
gentleman home that day and I hoped
e would send me a good dinner.
About ten o'clock Annie, my little
servant, came to me and said, 'Oh,
ma'am, the butcher's here with a beau-
tiful fish the master has sent for the
meat."
"A fish! Annie, do you know how
to cook fish?" I said.
"No, ma'am. Only it's fried they
mostly has 'em."
I werlt into the kitchen and there lay
a beautiful trout-too pretty to eat, it
seemed to me. Certainly too pretty to
be spoiled by careless cooking. So I
took my receipt book and after reading
carefully, I stuffed the pretty fish and
laid him in a pan all ready for the
oven, and told Annie to put it in at
eleven o'clock.
I was pretty tired, so I lay down
for a little nap, and had just dropped
asleep when Annie came into the room,
wringing her hands and saying, "Oh,
ma'am! Oh, ma'am! What'll I do in
the world?"
It seems that she had taken the fish
out of the safe and put it, pan and all,
on the table, and then, remembering I
had told her to sprinkle a little pepper
on it, she went to the closet for her
pepper-box, and when she came back,
the pan was empty!
"The cat stole it, Annie," I said.
"Indade and she didn't. The inno-
cent cratur was lyin' on my bed and
the door shut."
I tried to quiet the girl; but I told
her at last she could go home that


night, only she must dry her eyes and
run to the butcher's for a steak, for the
master would be home with a strange
gentleman in half an hour. We man-
aged to get the steak cooked, and papa
tried to laugh Annie out of the notion
of a ghost stealing our beautiful fish,
but the girl would not smile and was
afraid to be left alone in the kitchen.
So after tea she packed up her things
and was to take the stage to the depot
for Annie lived a long way off.
Just before the stage came as I was
standing at the gate, my eyes full of
tears at losing my nice little servant all
on account of a fish, I saw the lady who,
lived across the way open her gate and
come toward our house. I saw the
stage stop a few doors off as she came
to our gate and bowing to me said:
"Excuse me, we are strangers, but
did you lose a fine trout to-day?"
She must have thought me mad, for
I .rushed into the house and called:
"Annie, Annie, I've found the fish !
Now put your things back in the bureau,
you silly girl."
Then I went back and invited my
neighbor in, telling her about Annie's
fright.
"Why, it was our Nero-our great
dog! Iwas away at my mother's or I
would have brought it back, for I was.
sure it belonged to you. Nero must
have slipped in, nabbed the fish, and
brought it to our house. He laid it on
the kitchen floor, as if he had done
a very good deed, my girl tells me,.
and she, foolish thing, thought he had
brought it from my mother's, and.
cooked it."
We had a hearty laugh at our stupid
servants, and were great friends from
that day, and I never see a picture of
fish for sale, but I think of my first
trout, which I prepared for dinner with
such care, but never tasted. Annie
never dared say "ghosts" after that,
and lived with us till Dick was three
years old. But there is papa, and these
little girls must have a piece of cake
and run home.



























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JOHNNY'S GARDEN.

Johnny had a garden plot,
And set it all in order,
But let it run to grass and weeds,
Which covered bed and border.

Two stalking sun-flowers reared their
heads,
So firmly were they rooted,
And Johnny, as he looked at them,
Was any thing but suited.

Two children small, looked up and said,
Oh, Mister, beg your pardon!
Or, if you will not answer that,
Say, sonny, where's your garden?

"What d'ye call those two large flowers ?
An' what'll ye take, an' sell em?
You'd better put a ladder up,
So folks our size can smell 'em.

"We heard old Mrs. Grubber say,
'That spot ye needn't covet;
He'd better turn it into hay,
Or make a grass-plot of it."'

But Johnny never answered back,
But went and dug it over,
And soon again, his sprouting seeds,
He plainly could discover.

He said, "I'll have a garden yet,
And make a little money;
I never liked those Podger twins,-


They try to be so funny."


BOY BILLY AND THE
RABBIT.

Billy, boy! Billy, boy!
He was his mother's joy,
But he couldn't shoot an arrow worth a.
cent;
And a rabbit almost laughed
As she watched the flying shaft,
And the place upon the target where it.
went.
The rabbit passing by,
So very soft and sly,
Took Billy for a hunter gaily dressed;
But when she came anear,
She said, "'Tis very clear
It's safe enough to stay and take a.
rest."
Said the rabbit, "Billy, boy,
You never will annoy


Anybody, by your shooting at a
With an arrow and a bow,
I just would like to show,


mark;


I can reach the bull's-eye nearer in the.
dark."


Just then an arrow flew,
That pierced it thro' and thro'


Which made


Miss Bunny start, and.


jump, sky high!
She cried, "Oh, dear!


Oh, dear!


It's safer in the rear;"
And scampered off and never said,-
"Good-bye."


You see the reason why,
'Tis always best to try,
Tho' others laugh and slander


all the


same;
For be it late or soon,
They'll always change their tune,
When they see your arrow doesn't miss.
its aim.








A CHRISTMAS STORY.

A long stretch of ocean beach-chil-
dimpled waters sparkling in the early
morning sunlight, and dotted with
snowy sails, while a long line of dull
smoke against the horizon showed
where a great steamer with its freight
of living souls was going down to sea.
Men and boys are gathered in knots,
earnestly talking-fish-wives, with their
short, scarlet skirts, and kerchiefs tied
over their heads, are passing to and fro.
There seems to be an undercurrent of
excitement-what is it? Turning to
your left, in a wide cove or natural har-
bor, can be seen a large vessel riding
at anchor, all equipped and manned,
ready to start on an ocean voyage; and
this is the cause of the unusual stir and
bustle in the quiet hamlet. Soon from
the straggling row of cottages come the
sailors, with their wives, and children
clinging to the mothers' skirts. Slowly
they walk down to the shore, where
small boats are waiting to row them
over to the ship. Lingering as long as
they can, the time of parting comes,
and many a tearful farewell is spoken.
One fine fellow seemed very loth to
part with his wife, a pretty, red-cheeked
young woman; but the men called him.
"Aye, aye, mates," he said; and with a
"good bye Tom," "God bless you Mar-
gery," and a tender kiss upon the face
of the sleeping babe in her arms, he
stepped into the boat, and was quickly
aboard the great vessel, which was soon
to bear him away from home and loved
-ones. The little group on the beach
watched until the white sails were
filled, and like a huge bird with out-
spread wings she sailed away, and was
soon but a speck against the sky. The
women went sadly back to their lonely
cottages, but the men remained to talk
over the event.
The summer passed quickly to the
waiting ones, for there were the fish to
be dried, and the little gardens to be


tended, as their winter's store must not
fail, with good-man away. To Margery
the days did not pass unhappily, for she
took great pride and joy in her baby
boy. Stormy nights she never forgot
to set a lighted candle in the window;
it comforted her somehow, for although
the tiny blaze could not be seen out to
sea, yet she thought some poor, storm-
beaten wanderer on the rocky coast
might see the house-light, and know
that shelter was near. She often won-
dered, as she looked over the wide wild
ocean, where her sailor boy could be;
and she ever put up a prayer for his
safety. Well she knew the temptations
of a sailor, and she believed God would
keep him in the right way and bring
him back to her. But the long bitter
winter set in, and oh, the dreary, dreary
days that followed, for there is little of
interest going on in a fishing village.
They are mostly quiet, homely folk,
honest and hard-working. But as the
Christmas-tide drew near, each began
their simple preparations, as the men
were expected back at that time. With
the rest, Margery made bright as hands
could make it, her little house. Through
the day she stepped around at the duties
with a tender, happy light in her eyes;
baked the sweet seed-cakes, put them
away, got out the great pink corals-
Tom's precious gift-and in the evening
when the wind blew, and the waves
dashed with a sullen roar against the
beach, she gathered her boy in her
arms and crooned qauint sailor ballads
to him, while listening, ever listening,
for a familiar step. Oh, a sailor's wife
must be patient and brave. Often when
thousands of miles from home, our
sailor would, in his loneliness, be
tempted to fall in a snare; perhaps it
was in a foreign port, and his mates
grew boisterous over the wine-cup, or
it was on board the ship, and his watch
off-the jolly tars would say ,-" Come
Tom, give us a hand at cards to-night."
But the thought of his trusting wife,
her prayers, and their innocent child,
always restrained him. But at last













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they were homeward bound, and every
man's heart leaped with joy, when they
thought of home and its loving wel-
come; for they expected to be in haven
at the Christmas time. One wild night,
as Tom stood at the tiller, the snow
falling thick and fast, he heard the first
mate shout in quick alarm to the cap-
tain. Soon hoarse voices were giving
orders back and forth; a severe gale was
upon them, and the danger was great,
but he stood at his post while the cord-
age above him creaked and strained and
the vessel rocked and groaned as though
in mortal agony. Every moment it
seemed ready to go to pieces. Tom
thought of his waiting ones, and gave
them up, for he felt no ship could live
in a sea like that.
All night the storm continued, but
calmed down with the dawn of day. Af-
ter clearing away the wreckage on deck,
for the storm had made havoc with the
rigging, and repairing the mishaps, they
found they were many miles out of their
course. Thankful they were that the
peril was past, but the men's hearts
were heavy, for they feared there would
be no Christmas on shore for them.
But the captain cheered them, and re-
minded them that the "Sea Gull" was
a fast sailor.
All day the fishermen in groups


scanned the waste of waters-the Sea
Gull" was due several days past, and
hearts were growing anxious, for there
had been mighty winds and terrible
storms of late.
In her cottage, Margery was waiting
with ill-concealed impatience; twenty
times a day she would go to the window
and watch for a sail.
Christmas eve came, it seemed her
heart was bursting with suspense,
while, with her boy in her arms, she
made every thing ready; the table was
spread, the fire blazed on the hearth,
the mistletoe hung over the door, when
she bethought her, here, baby mine,
place a shining green cluster of holly
on the father s ship," and she held
the laughing babe up to a miniature
boat upon the mantel. As she did
so, a step was heard outside, the door
unlatched, and Margery was clasped
in rough, blue-coated& arms. Tom had
come,-" Merry Christmas, wife! merry
Christmas, little lad!" and a happier
family were never re-united.
There was great joy in the little ham-
let by the sea that night; and over all
shone the Star-the same heavenly ray
which guided the wise men across the
plains of Jericho, where lay the sleep-
ing Jesus, whose birth we love to
celebrate.





































STORY OF LAWRENCE
GRAY.

"Well, all right, don't go," said Hal-
sey Bonner. "You're a pet lamb, that's
what you are, and I always knew it.
If you had the pluck of a bull-frog,
you'd do as I want you."
"I will do as you want me, but don't
I tell you I'm afraid? Grandma will
find out I haven't been to school, and
she's so good to me," said little Law-
rence Gray.
"Baa! baa!" said Halsey, derisively,
"you give me your skates and I'll hide
them in my overcoat pockets till to-
morrow, and we'll skate down to the
Gypsy camp, and they'll let us race their
22


Sponies and they'll sell us some of
their things; they've got trick
toys, that's make a racket in school.
Bringa big lunch with you; tell
your Grandmother that you get
tremendous hungry these days,
and we'll have the biggest fun!"
This was said as the two boys
wended their way homeward after
school, and the prospective "fun"
was to be enjoyed on the morrow.
"All right, said Lawrie, "if
you won't call me 'pet lamb' any
more, I'll go."
Well, keep mum about it,
and be sure to bring plenty of
doughboys along. These were
odd-looking, fried sweet-cakes,
that Lawrie's Grandrrother made,
because he liked them, and they
found a ready acceptance with
Halsey, although his father had a
hired cook, and Halsey had French
novelties to dine upon.
Lawrie rushed into his Grand-
mother's sitting-room, as red-
cheeked and boisterous as ever,
and the old lady smiled pleasantly
at him, and when she said,
Deary, there's a big, red apple
on the mantel-shelf for you, he
felt a pang, and something come
into his throat like a great lump.
But those feelings passed away im-
mediately, and he began to think of
the good time he should have in the
company of that fearless companion
and jolly good fellow, Halsey.
The cakes that Halsey would surely
ask for were not so easily obtained.
If Lawrie should ask for more than his
usual ration, his Grandmother would
ask questions, and he would not be
able to stand that ordeal. He peeped
into the pantry, and there was a beau-
tiful platter full of them, and some
little, round mince pies, that were made
on purpose for Lawrie's lunch, on an-
other.
"I don't think it would be very bad
to take a handkerchief full of them
now, and by-and-by come and get some









more. I must take enough, because
we're to be gone all day," he thought.
He slyly carried them up to his room,
and hid them, and when bed-time
came, he kissed his Grandmother good-
night, but she seemed to hold him
closer to her than usual, and look at
him in a sweeter way. This he thought
of, afterward. The excitement of the
coming good time, and the fact that he
had never played truant before, pre-
vented him from falling immediately to
sleep, and the full moon had come up
above the woods and looked into his
window in a wide-awake way, and he
tossed about restlessly.
What should he do with the good
things he had secreted? He certainly
could not take them when he went to
school to-morrow, and there they were,
an unmistakable proof of pilfering.
They must be got out of the house in
some way, he thought. If they were
only outside in some convenient place,
they could carry them off unobserved.
Betty, the house-girl, would get the
credit of taking them, and it didn't
make much difference if she did, "She
is an awful sassy thing," he said to
himself.
All sounds in the house had at last
subsided, and for some time he thought
and thought of what should be done.
He hit upon it at last. He would get
up and dress and take the cakes and
pies in a basket and softly leave the
house, and deposit them under a lit-
tle, low bridge, that crossed a frozen
stream, a short distance down the road.
They would be perfectly safe there till
school time, and a turn of the road
* effectually hid the bridge from his
home.
No sooner thought of, than he began
to put the scheme into operation. He
wrapped the cakes up in a towel, and
putting them in a basket, went noise-
lessly down the carpeted staircase in
his stocking feet, carrying his shoes in
one hand. He turned the key softly in
the front door, and then returned to
the hat-rack for his overcoat and cap.


Do not think he did all this without,
a warning from conscience; no, he felt
an anxiety and fear that made him turn
back once and blush hotly; but then,
how could he boast of his courage to
Halsey, to-morrow. Then, again, if he
backed out now, there was Halsey's
ridicule, which to Lawrie was simply
unbearable.
He went out into the road, and run-
ning swiftly in the direction of the
bridge, he turned as he reached the
bend and looked back at his home. All
was quiet. Not the least fear that
he had been discovered. He turned
the bend, and, running down the bank,
stooped under and crept along a few
feet into the arch. He set the basket
in a safe place and turned to go out,
when he saw, between him and the
light, the figure of a rough-looking
man, stooping down and peering into
the arched opening.
Lawrence's heart bounded in his
breast; fear seized him in every fibre
of his body.
"Bill," said the figure, "you jest stop
the hole on t'other side, there's game
here!" The man spoken to ran into
the meadow, and prevented any escape
in that direction.
The speaker crawled under the arch,
seized Lawrie, bound a handkerchief
over his mouth to stifle his cries, and,
throwing a coarse bag over his person,
pulled him along the road. The other
man assisted, and in this manner, half
dragged and half carried, Lawrie was
taken, he knew not whither. He at-
tempted once to cry out, but he was
struck smartly on the head with a whip,
and bade to "shut up!"
They now seemed to have entered
the wood, as they stumbled against
trees, and the going became difficult.
Lawrie was well nigh insensible from
exhaustion. After awhile they stopped,
and tumbling him into a wagon, they
carried Lawrie many miles from his
home.
Lawrie had been kidnapped by the
Gypsies. They brought him to their
23








camp, and their women treated him not
inkmindly in their rough way; but hard
work and miserable privation were be-
fore him, without any hope of escape.
Preparations were evidently making for
a hurried departure, and after a consul-
tation, from which Lawrie could only
gather the words, nobss" and "re-
ward,' he surmised that he would be
detained a prisoner until a sufficient
sum of money should be obtained to
release him.
Oh, the bitterness of that wrong-
doing! Dear, dear Grandma; with her
tenderness and thoughtful care; she
knew not the fate of her little boy.
The Gypsies left that part of the
country, carrying Lawrie with them,
his skin stained, and with ragged gar-
ments scarcely keeping out the frost.
Here we will leave him.
His Grandmother was crazed with
grief at his absence. Her love for the
only son of her dead daughter could not
be for a moment forgotten. She deter-
mined to travel to every Gypsy camp
she could hear of. It was surmised
that Lawrie's fate was somehow mixed
up with the visit of those people to the
neighborhood. .
She shut up her house, took her lit-
tle hoard of money from the savings
bank, and went out to wander the wide
world for Lawrie. She met most kind
and sympathetic people, who directed


and comforted her. It availed nothing.
A year had passed and Grandmother
had, traveled through many States-
many children were brought t,, her,.
but none of them were sunny-! iired,
cheery, bright-eyed Lawrie.
She had reached the city of St. Louis,
and had called a street-car, upon a seat
of which she sat, listless, discouraged-
meditating a return to her old home.
A wild-eyed, starved-looking boy
jumped into the car, from, no one
knew whither, screaming, "Grand-
mother! Grandmother!" A police-
man entered quickly and was about
seizing him, when Grandmother stood
up, looked closely at him, and then,
sinking upon the boy's breast, sobbed,
"Lawrie, my own Lawrie, I have found
you!"
The policeman looked incredulous;
and they both went with him to a-
neighboring station.
This was Lawrie, who had escaped
from his hideous servitude, and was
begging his way homeward. The kind
policemen interested themselves for the
old lady and the boy. A suit of nice
clothes was purchased, and Grandma's
money was not all spent, and they sped
on their rejoicing way, to the pleasant
home in New England.
No one has felt more bitterly than
Lawrie, that "The way of the trans-
gressor is hard."


24









THE LITTLE ORPHANS.
"I wont! I wont have my hair
turled!" said George Washington Dan-
forth, as he ran away from Jenny, the
nurse.
"I wont have my face washed, and I
wont be dressed for breakfast all day,"
said Grace, and she climbed upon the
lounge and curled her feet under her.
Now, this rebellion had been coming
-on for a week. Jenny, the nurse girl,
had petted and coaxed and made large
promises of candy, and sights at show
Windows.
These enjoyments had satisfied only
for a day, and a frowsy head and a
night-dress toilet, with bare feet, were
now to be tried, whatever the nurse
might say to the contrary.
This perplexed Jenny very much.
She knew, if she persisted in com-
pelling these thoughtless children to
submit, there would be jumping and
screaming and other naughty behavior.
So she sat down, and pretending to
cry, brought out her pocket handker-
chief and sobbed, as she thought, most
effectively.
It didn t do; George Washington put
both his little fat fists up to his eyes,
and imitated, as well as he could, the
heart-breaking sounds Jenny was mak-
ing, and then laughed till he couldn't
stand up, at his own performance.
Grace liked the feeling of the soft
carpet under her bare feet, and went
through with a figure of the "Buttercup
Dance," much to her own satisfaction.
"Jenny, you can't catch me!" said
Grace, racing round the nurse in funny
gymnastics.
"Oo tan't tech me!" echoed George.
At that moment, mamma, passing the
door, could not understand what such a
noise meant, and came in.
Then Jenny related to her the exist-
ing state of things.
Mamma looked very serious, and
called George to her, and taking him
on her lap, sat down on the lounge be-
side Grace.
2


"Jenny," she said, "I have some-
thing to tell the children, and you may
leave them with me."
Mamma, what are oo going to do?"
asked George. Grace said, "I'm going
to have bare feet all day, mamma!"
I have a little story to tell you, and
then we will talk about that afterward,"
said her mamma.
The stories were pleasant to hear,
and no one could tell them like their
mother, so they became quiet instantly,
and she commenced:
"There were three little orphans,
whose names were Lena, Fritz and Bis-
marck. They were very poor and wan-
dered about, begging for a morsel to
eat, and many times, when nightfall
came, they didn't know where they
should sleep.
"They tried to sing in front of peo-
ple's houses, but no one cared to listen
to their little weak voices, and they did
not make any thing in this way. They
went bare-footed all summer, and when
it became cold they still had no protec-
tion for their little blue feet. No one
knows, but such as these, how cold and
hard the stones are, and how these lit-
tle ones suffered.
"They could look into lovely homes,
and see children tucked away, warm
and snug in their pretty beds, while the
frosty wind blew around themselves,
and they huddled together in some half-
sheltered place, in an old barn, or in
some barrels or dry-goods boxes.
"They were glad to eat what little
boys and girls like you waste-the
crusts, the crumbs and the fragments
of nice breakfasts. How glad they
would have been to have had some
good person like Jenny to take care of
them. Oh, my little dears don't know
how dreadful it is to trudge through
the cold and beg.
"No one offered to do any thing for
them, and, worst of all, other children,
when they saw them coming, made fun
of them, of the queer-looking caps
Fritz and Bismarck wore, and of the-
old-fashioned, ragged dress the little









Lena had on, and to amuse themselves
they would throw stones slyly at them,
so that the beggars had to go away as
quickly as they could. If there had
only been some kind Jenny to say to
them:
'Here, dear little ones, come in to
this pleasant home. I have a beautiful,
warm room for you to be in, and when
you have bathed yourselves in this
warm, bright water, you shall have the
choicest breakfast I can make for you.'"
"Do you think these hardly-treated
little ones would have been as unruly
as you were this morning? Do you
think they would have been saucy and
obstinate ?"
The children did not say any thing,
but were very still and looked serious.
"One night, it was late, and they
had not yet found a place to stay, and
they looked in the window and saw
Gracie playing with her doll, and Geor-
gie riding his hobby-horse, and he had
his hair combed and his white dress
and red sash on, and Gracie would sit
her doll down into its cushioned, easy
chair, and then take her seat at the
piano, and sing and play, and after
walking about and looking in for a lit-
tle while, they went away sorrowfully.
"They went till they reached a neg-
lected cottage, where two old people
lived, and they crept in between some
mossy boards and broken beams and
snuggled up next to the chimney where
it was warm, and this was like heaven
to these shivering, hungry little waifs.
"They came to our house the next
morning, and I opened the dining-room
window, and asked them to come in,
but they were not used to seeing me
here, and were very shy, and I could
not prevail upon them to accept my
hospitality. They had been ill-treated
so often that they mistrusted every-
body.
bo"I gave them their breakfast and
they went away delighted. I invited
them to come to-day and I'm sure they
will come. I had intended that you
should see them this morning, but you
26


are not ready. Here it is eight o'clock,
and Georgie hasn't his face washed nor
his hair combed; and you, Gracie, in
your night-dress yet, and both of you
saying, 'I wont! I wont!' to every
thing nurse Jenny asks you to do."
The children both jumped down, and
racing after Jenny screamed out:
"Jenny, Jenny! we're good now, we
want to be dressed right away to go
down to see the poor little orphans."
Georgie submitted, with great pa-
tience, to the curling Jenny gave his
hair. It went into such pretty waves,
that when it was done it made him look
once more like a good little boy, that
had been gentle and obedient.
Gracie preferred to have on her lilac-
colored dress, dotted with tiny pink
rose buds, and her sash on; her hair
fell down over her shoulders in thick,
flaxen tresses.
They went down stairs in a very or-
derly manner, one on each side of
Jenny. When their mother met them
in the dining-room, she was so much
pleased to see the change in their ap-
pearance, that she kissed them both.
She said, "I hear my little friends
out there now;" and they all went to
the window. There stood three little
sparrows on the snow, their little blue
feet looking cramped and frozen. The
smallest one was trying to flutter its
ragged wings and be very cheerful.
They looked up, and did not seem
the least bit frightened.
They chirruped a "good morning"
to the children. Their mother told
them to bring a plateful of food she
had prepared for them, and to feed it to
them out of their hands. The birds
hopped about upon the window sill,
and then, as if by magic, came two
snow-birds, that wanted the crumbs
that lay on the snow.
"These little birds have slept all
night over next to that warm chim-
ney," said mamma, pointing across the
lawn, at old Mr. Gleason's house, "and
they come every morning to our win-
dow. You must be up and dressed if









you want to be kind to them. They
are the little orphans that I meant, and
I saw the cruel boys shoot their mother
as she was feeding them; at that time
they could only just fly. They have
struggled bravely with their misfor-
tunes. Our Heavenly Father cares for
them and you.
"Would it not be a disgraceful thing
for you, if these little birds were found
to be more gentle, obedient and truth-
ful than you ? You who have so much,
and are so tenderly cared for ? "
The children looked with grave inter-
est at the little pensioners, regarding
them in an entirely new light, and felt
a good deal ashamed, when they found
they were surpassed in good behavior
by those little sparrows.
"See their brown caps! Those two
must be Fritz and Bismarck, and that
ragged gray one is Lena. Mamma,
before next winter, mayn't we have a
pretty warm house built for the little
birds, in the old oak, at the corner of
the piazza? They wont be cold and
hungry any more, said Grace.
This was decided upon, and a refer-
ence only to the forlorn little orphans
was enough to bring the children to
a proper regard for themselves and
their behavior.
They became great friends, and
George and Grace cultivated many
graces of character in tending them.


WHICH WOULD YOU BE?

BY HOPE LEDYARD.

Who do you think is the happiest
little girl in this picture ?
Blossom says the one with the para-
sol is the happiest, and, when we asked
her why, she says,-" Cause she's got
the best sings."
But things do not make people happy.
That little girl, whom Blossom thinks
is so happy, is little Laura Holley.
She has no brothers or sisters, and hei


mother is not well and strong; so Laura
is often very lonely. Laura is looking
at Mary Simpson, and wishes she were
Mary!
Mary has a brother and sister (they
are just in front of her), and Laura has
seen the three children playing in the
fields or picking berries on the roadside;
and they are always having a good
time. Laura has only just come to
live in the country, and she does not
know Mary yet, but as she walks behind
her, she is saying to herself: "How
happy she must be! I mean to ask
her to let me play with her."
And what do you think Mary is say-
ing ?-" Oh, there's that pretty little
girl just behind us. I do hope Tommy
will be good, and that Polly won't talk.
I hope she'll sit by me, so I can find
out her name. If she'll let me, I'll
show her that big blackberry bush that
no one has seen yet. How nice it must
be to have pretty dresses, and a par-
asol !"
Mary and Laura did sit together, and
as soon as school was over they began
to talk. Mary offered to show Laura
the blackberry bush on the way home.
So they walked together, Tommy run-
ning ahead, and Polly hanging a little
behind, until Laura offered to lend her
her parasol, when Polly walked ahead
of all, very proud and happy.
"I'm afraid she'll spoil it," said
Mary.
M"Oh, no, she wont," said Laura;
"and anyhow, I don't need a parasol
here. Mother says I'm to get as brown
as a berry."
"There's the bush," said Mary.
"Come right on the fence, and we can
pick a few, and put them in a leaf for
your mother."
Mary scrambled over the fence in a
second, and Polly threw, down the
parasol, and crept under, but Laura
stood still in the road.
"I'd spoil my clothes," she said. "I
wish I was dressed like you!"
"And I was wishing I was dressed
like her!" thought Mary. "But I








wont wish it any more. Poor little
thing!"
"Wait a minute, and we'll bring you
some; we'll put plenty of leaves to-
gether. Oh, Tommy, can't you get a
iob cabbage leaf?"
Tommy was off in a minute, and
soon they were all sitting on a big flat
rock, eating blackberries; or rather,
Laura and Polly were eating, while
Mary looked on.
"I saw you riding out with your
mother, last Friday," she said.
"And I saw you riding on a great
load of hay; oh, how I wished I were
having such fun," said Laura.
"Isn't that queer!" thought Mary.
"Maybe I do have the best time of the
two! That was my father's load of
hay," she said out loud, "and to-mor-
row we're to go out and turn hay for
him. If you like, you can come too."
I'll ask mother; I'm pretty sure I
can go. What do you do when you go
home to-night ?"
"We all sit down under a big tree
and tell father and mother about the
lesson, and then we sing hymns. My
father can sing beautiful, and mother
tells us a story; and we have supper
under the tree."
"We have cookies on Sunday," said
the little one, but Mary turned red, and
said,-" Hush!"
"Oh, how' nice it must be!" said
Laura. "My mother can't sit up to
tea very often, and father is in the
city; so I eat supper all alone. The
only pleasant thing I can do is to read,
and I get tired of reading sometimes."
"We have Pilgrim's Progress, and
three hymn-books," said Mary, "and all
our Sunday-school papers."
"There's father, said Tommy.
Laura looked up and down the road,
but Mary explained that Tommy had
heard his father's whistle, with which
he called the children to meals. So
the new friends parted, promising to
meet together by eight o'clock in the
morning, if Mrs. Holley were willing.
Laura's mother was quite willing that


her little daughter should go to the
fields; so at eight o'clock, Mary found
her new friend waiting at the foot of
the lane.
"I've brought a picture-book for
Polly, and a nice story for us to read,"
said Laura; "and mother told the girl
to put up lots of lunch, so you needn't
go home at noon, and we'll have a
picnic."
How did you carry the basket ?"
asked Mary, as she tried to lift the
lunch basket.
"I didn't. I brought my servant!
Here, Ponto, take it!
At these words a great big dog ran
up (he had been chasing a little red
squirrel) and took the basket in his.
mouth. He was, as Tommy said, "as.
big as a pony;" and was so gentle that
even Polly was not afraid to pat him.
What a lovely day they had!
They worked hard at turning the hay,
and then had a long "noon-spell," that
lasted till six o'clock at night.
Laura came back to her mother with
her face burned, and her hair all tossed
by the wind.
"Oh, mother," she said, "just think t
That little girl I told you about was.
wishing she was me, and I was almost
wishing I was her! But I guess we
would t either of us change, after all.
If only you were well, and strong, mother
dear, I could have such happy times."
"I hope you will have many happy
times any way, little daughter," said
Mrs. Holley, "but almost everybody,
little and big, says: 'if-only.' It is.
just as well, dear, that we cannot choose
for ourselves. Still, I do hope to get
stronger in this lovely country air."
So the two little girls, whom you see
in the picture, became good friends and
had many happy times, but I do not
think Mary wishes to be Laura, .or
Laura cares to be Mary.
There is something in the life
of every one, that we would not be
willing to take, even though many
things in the same life might be pleas-
ant to us.












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THE LESSON AFTER
RECESS.

A bright little urchin out west,
Thought going-to school was a pest.
He said, "I don't care,
I just won't stay there,
I'll have a good time like the rest.

He said, "I'll run off at recess,
They'll never once miss me, I guess;
A fellow can't stop
When he's got a new top.
There'll just be one good scholar less."

Now the "rest was a crowd of rough
boys,
Who with rudeness and mischief and
noise,
Made one afraid
To go where they played,
But their riotous play he enjoys.

So away from his lessons he ran,
This promising western young man.


They pushed him down flat,
Tore the rim off his hat,
Said, "There's nothing so healthy as
tan."

And they did what was very much
worse;
They stole his new knife and his purse.
They gave him a shake,
And they called him a "cake;"
Said, "Next time, bub, come with your
nurse."

Near sundown this urchin was found
Fast asleep on some very hard ground;
He looked tired and grieved;
He'd been so deceived,
And quite ready for home, I'll be
bound.

The primary teacher, Miss Small,
When she heard his sad fate, forgave all,
My teacher's a daisy !
I'm through being lazy."
He said, "School's not bad after all."









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HELPFUL WORDS.


A great astronomer was, once in his
early days, working hard at mathematics,
and the difficulties he met with, made
him ready to give up the study in de-
spair. After listlessly looking out of
the window, he turned over the leaves
of his book, when the lining at the
32


-''' .back attracted
his attention.
Looking at it
closely, he found it was part
of a letter written to a young man,
apparently, like himself, disheartened
with his difficulties. "Go on, sir, go-
on," was the counsel; "the difficulties.
you meet will disappear as you advance."
This short sentence seemed to give
the student fresh courage. Following
out these simple words he applied him-
self with renewed energy to his studies,
and ultimately became one of the most
learned men of his day. D.



FALSE SHAME.


Do not be ashamed, my lad, if you
have a patch on your elbow. It is no
mark of disgrace. It speaks well for
your industrious mother. For our part,
we would rather see a dozen patches
on your clothes than to have you do a
bad or mean action, or to hear a pro-
fane or vulgar word proceed from your
lips. No good boy will shun you or
think less of you because you do not
dress as well as he does, and if any one
laugh at your appearance, never mind
it. Go right on doing your duty.


5
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Li?;_


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-4,


'THE SNOW BIRDS.


When skies looked cold and winter boughs
Gave out a crackling sound,
Two little snow-birds chilled, with frost,
Had fallen to the ground.
When Nelly came along that way,
And saw them sitting there;
She thought them dead, "But no," she
said,
"They need a little care."
She warmed them with her hand, and
gave
Them dainty crumbs to eat,
And then they oped their pretty eyes,
And stood upon their feet.
And looked up sweetly in her face,
And chirped, as if to say,
"We thank you for your tenderness,'
And then they flew away.
Where they had gone so suddenly,
She looked above to see,
And there they sat, a row of them,
Upon the maple tree.
They chirped and twittered as they
looked,
As much as they could do,
As if to say Sweet little girl,
We will remember you."
And to a friendship very sweet,
Her acts of kindness led,
For often would they follow her,
And fly above her head.
But how they could remember her,
She never understood,
But papa said, "I think 'tis by
That little scarlet hood."


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How THE DAYS WENT AT SEA-GULL BEACH.


No school! And the beautiful sum-
mer days coming so early in the
morning, that none of us children ever
could get awake to see the sun rise, and
staying so long that we grew quite
tired of being happy; and some of us,
Gracie and Jimmie in particular, were
so little, that they couldn't stay awake
through the whole of it, and went off
into a nap every day after dinner.
But this was in the city, and when we
arrived, at the beach we didn't get tired
or cross the whole day long. There
were many children at the hotel, and
when we came, with our dolls and toy
boats, our fishing-tackle and spades,
and pails, we made a host of friends
immediately.
Reginald and Willie, our older broth-
ers, did not always go with Gracie and
Jimmie and me, but made the acquaint-
ance of the men that went out to sea
to fish for the great hotels; and they
went oftentimes with them, and we
used to enjoy seeing the little boats
launched; they almost stood on end
when they went over the breakers,
36


making us scream with excitement and
delight. And as the little fleet grew
less and less, and at last disappeared,
we girls thought it was a grand thing
to have such brave brothers.
I was the elder girl, being ten, and
Gracie seven. Our Gracie was a lovely
little sister; she had large blue eyes,
and wavy brown hair, and was very
gentle and obedient, and people called
her Pet," almost as soon as they be-
cane acquainted with her.
Mother had blue flannel suits made
for us, and dressed in these, with
sailor hats that had little tapping rib-
bons at the sides, we scurried along
the beach, climbed the rocks, or waded
out into the salt water.
But we had on our very prettiest
dresses in the evening, for the chil-
dren were allowed to have the grand
parlor, and dance to the music of the
band until nine o'clock. This was a
privilege we older ones talked of con-
tinually, and looked forward to all day.
We were so dainty, genteel, and good-
mannered for an hour, that it impressed






























DANCE TO THE MUSIC OF THE BAND.


even ourselves; and boys and girls be-
came models of gentleness and polite
behavior, and the effect of those de-
lightful evenings has given growth and
direction to many graces in our char-
acters.
But the little ones, like Gracie and
her friends, really couldn't stand the
excitement, and rolled around in odd
corners on the floor, or sought the
grateful obscurity behind the sofas, to
indulge in naps, long before nine
o'clock. I found Gracie, in her pink
silk dress and violet slippers, lying
curled up under the table, with her
head on the back of Bosin, the great
Newfoundland dog that had stolen into
the parlor against rules.
Nelson Faber was a little boy, not
much older than Gracie, and they
seemed to enjoy each other's society
very much. He too oftentimes suc-
cumbed to sleepiness when we wanted
him to do his sailor dance; but when
the morning came, they were as rosy-
cheeked and bright-eyed as ever, and


trotted along the pleasant walks with
their hoops and pails, inseparable
friends. It was fortunate for Gracie, too,
that he preferred to play with her,
rather than to go off with the boys, for
one day after a boisterous night, the
sea came up higher on the beach than
we had ever before seen it; and unsus-
pecting Gracie was caught by a wave
and thrown down, and as it retired it
seemed to drag her along with it; we
older ones lost our presence of mind
entirely, and screamed and cried, and
did nothing, but that heroic little fellow
ran into the boiling surf and caught her
dress, and with the dog's assistance,
dragged her to a safe place. She said
he was, "Very nice and dood."
SOne day, some of my girl compan-
ions proposed to visit the rocks that
lay at the mouth of Green river, just
where it gently met the ocean. Right
there, no end of sea-weed and shells,
and things thrown up by the ocean,
could be found; and there were such
curious rocks, with nooks and basins,







where the water stayed in tiny pools,
and there we went fishing, and brought
lunch, setting it out on the most con-
venient flat rock we could find. I tell
you, cold chicken, pickles, cheese, and
sponge cake, with milk, tasted as they
never did
before or _
since, to t
our party
of hungry
children.
We climb-
ed and fell,
and laugh- L -

chatted,
with the
salt breeze
lifting our
hair, and
fanning
our brown
faces, and
going out
far on the
point, we
came upon
a little
shining
lake, sur-
rounded by
rocks, upon
which we
could sit,
and dabble
our feet in
the water.
It was no
place more -
than a foot
deep, and 7N -_---
we decided
to w ade INSEPARAB
round in it.
It was a comical sight to see us navi-
gating ourselves in procession through
that water, but it was a very ques-
tionable joke, when Milly Sayre
jumped and screamed, and ran like a
frantic creature from the pool, and up
the rocks.


"What's the matter, Milly, we cried.
"Are you hurt ? What did you see?"
we breathlessly shouted.
"Oh! oh!" was all she could gasp,
pointing to a place she had just left.
We all scrambled out instantly, and
peered
c---e over th e
_____-__ a rocks into
____-__ the water.
What
should we
see but a
little crea-
ture, gro-
Stes ue and
hideous,
that made
its way
round in
the water,
with as-
tounding
celerity,
throwing
out legs
or claws,
or what-
ever they
were, from
every point
of its cir-
cum fer-
ence. Its
body was,
flat and
was green
color above
and pink
-*-c under, and
to add to
.- _- its alarm-
ing appear-
SFRIENDS. ance, it
looked at
us with two black eyes, in a very sinister
and uncanny manner. We looked at.
each other with blanched faces and
speechless horror, and then kept a sharp
lookout, lest it might take it into its
head (we couldn't tell if it had any
head, for the place where the eyes were,


LE











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A*.


"What are those things on the
stream"
Said the cat-tails, quite un-
able
To make out, until they saw
By the brook-side, little Mabel.

"Ah, we have it!" then they
said,-
"'Tis a funny girl we know,
Broke a scarlet poppy up,
Just to see the pieces go.

When she gets a little older,
Mamma then will say to
Mabel,
"Put the scarlet poppies, dear,
In a vase, upon the table."


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WHAT MABEL DID.

Mabel broke a poppy up,
And threw the pieces on the
water;
But she did it all for fun,
Mamma's darling daughter.

Then she played that they were
boats
Going otf, where toys are
plenty .
Coming bad with what she
wanted,
Pretty things, enough for
twenty.

Cats and donkeys, balls and
books,
And a jumping-jack so jolly;
And a pretty, gold-rimmed tea-
set,
And a little coach for dolly.


Af
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did not seem different from any other
part of its body,) take it into its "in-
ternal consciousness, to crawl out on to
the rocks and chase us. It got through
the water in a distracting manner,
which was really quite amusing after a
few moments, and from being horribly
frightened, we became interested when
we found it did not attempt the offen-
sive. We gave it some lunch and
called it "Jack Deadeye," and for the
whole afternoon he was the center of
attraction.
"Let us take him back with us," I
proposed. "We can get him into a
pail, and then we can have him in some
pool nearer home, and see what he'll
turn into. I don't believe but what
he'll be something else in a few days."
My knowledge of natural history had
always been lamentably meager, and
more than once I had brought the
laugh upon myself by my ignorance.
So I forbore to predict what would be
his ultimate form of beauty.
"'A whale !" said Susie Champney.
"Oh, dear, no; whales don't have
legs and claws," said Estella Bascom.
"It's a tadpole."
"You're mistaken there," said Ma-
mie Fitz Hugh; "tadpoles are just the
little jokers that do have tails. I've
seen hundreds of them, and this crea-
ture has no tail."
We all rushed again to the edge of the
rocks to look at him, with added wonder.
"Well, we'll take that tad home on
a pole, any way," said Nannie White,
who was the cutest girl to say things
in the whole crowd. She immediately
ran off to secure a piece of drift that
was tumbling about on the wet sand.
But how to get him into a pail was the
next problem. A committee of the
whole was called. I thought we could
obstruct his path by putting the mouth
of the pail in front of him, and then
when he sailed into it, we could in-
stantly pull him out. This was decided
upon; but how to get it down to him
without falling in ? A bright idea struck
me. I whipped off my flannel sash, and


running it through the handle, dashed
it into the water; but that proceeding
only frightened him-we must move
more cautiously. We worked for an
hour and had him in twice, but were so
excited both times that he escaped.
First time, Totty Rainsford shouted,
"We've got him!" and immediately
rolled off the rocks, head first, into the
water. We were all so scared, with the
water splashing, and she screaming at
the top of her voice, "Save me! Save
me!" that Jack got away. She scram-
bled out pretty lively, and when we got
him in again, we were all seized with
another fit of laughing at Totty, who,
in her moist predicament, was jumping
round to dry herself, because she didn't
want to go home, that he crawled out
as leisurely as possible. But we se-
cured him at last, safe in the pail; and
to prevent his crawling out, I clapped
my sailor hat over the top of it, and the
elastic kept it down tight. We put the
pole through the handle and Estelle
and myself took hold of the ends, and
we came near losing him every few
minutes, owing to the inequalities of
the ground. The pail would slide down
to either end, as the pole inclined, and
Estella would drop it and scream when
she saw the pail traveling noiselessly
toward her, and if it hadn't been for
my happy thought of putting the hat
over him, he'd have got away to his.
"happy hunting grounds," or rather,
waters, in short order.
We arrived at the hotel at last, with
Jack all safe, and the rest of the girls.
went to dress for dinner, and left me
to find the boys, to help me deposit
him in a secure place, for we were sure
we should very greatly astonish the
boarders and achieve renown as having
discovered a new species of marine
beast.
The boys were in a perfect ecstacy
of curiosity to see what the girls had
caught. When I carefully took off the
hat, I found the water had all leaked
out, and his .monstership lay kicking
and crawling at the bottom.






"Ho! ho! ho!" shouted Willie, "is
that what-cher call a curiosity ?"
"Oh, Flossie! you have been dread-
fully taken in," said Regy.
"Oh, no," I said, "it s this wonder-
ful animal that's been 'taken in,' and
he's going to be kept in, too."
I began to feel, though, that
there was a great laugh somewhere
in the future, and that it was com-
ing at our expense.
"Why, Flossie it's nothing but
a baby crab," said Regy. "I can
get a peck of them in an hour, over
in the river."
I felt greatly chagrined, and
blushed with mortification. The
boys kept bursting out laughing


turn him on his back, all of which
caused me to scream every time, and
sent tremors all over me.
"What-cher goin' to do with him ?"
inquired Willie.
"I shall study his habitudes, and im-
prove my knowledge of the crustacea,"


HOW MANY GIRLS DID IT TAKE TO LAND HIM?


every few minutes, asking such ques-
tions. as:
"How many girls did it take to land
him ?" "Was he gamey, Flossie?"
"Did ye bait him with a clam-shell, or
an old boot? they'll snap at any thing."
"Oh! I'd given away my dinner to
have been there!" and then Regy
would stir him up with a stick, and


said I, giving him a sentence directly
out of my text-book. "I shall look at
him every day."
"Yes, and he'll look at you every
night. I have read a book that told
about a traveler that offended a crab
once, and he informed the other crabs,
and they all made for him at night, and
twenty thousand of them came that









night and crept under his tent,
and sat there and looked at him.
And there he was in the middle
of them, and you know their
eyes are fastened in their heads
by a string, and they can throw
them out of their heads and
draw them back again; and, at
a signal, they all threw their
eyes at him. He was so horri-
fied that night, that he got insane
and had to be sent to a lunatic
asylum."
I've heard your stories before,
Regy, and I simply don't credit
them. We girls are going to
hunt up a pond to put him in,
where we can pet him, and edu-
cate him.
You'd best hunt up a frying
pan to put him in; he's
capital eating for breakfast,
well browned, with hard-
boiled eggs and parsley
round him," said Reginaki.
I told him if he couldn't
do any better than to lie
there and make an exhibi-
tion of his bad taste and
ignorance, he'd
betterget up and
work off the fit.
I insisted upon
his helping me
to fill the pail
with salt water, .l.-. l
and hang him
upon the rocks "
until we could
make a future,
permanent dis-
posal of him.
That evening
our parlor man-
ners. .'
were
some- "-
what A


=


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, r- ~~j%~
,,/
-,--~~


'--


WHERE WE CAN PET AND EDI(ATE 1113i."


---
~







less decorous and elegant, owing to
the fact that Reginald and Willie had
been industriously circulating the epi-
sode of the morning, with such addi-
tions as they thought would add point
and piquancy, among the rest of the
boys, and there was no end of innu-
endo and witticism indulged in, that
caused the young gentlemen to retire
in groups and laugh; and we could
hear such remarks as, "Dick, there
was a whale hooked on this coast this
afternoon, did you know it?" Or, "I
think Jack Deadeye is the most comical
character in Pinafore, he's so crabbed."
The girls of our party stood it as they
best could; and in the morning we
stole out to look at our prize, after the
boys had gone off, but the tide had
swept Jack and the pail out to sea.
It was a long time before we heard
the last of it, however.


MAX AND BEPPO.

Down by the lake they trotted,
All the summer day;
Max and Beppo never plotted
Yet, to run away.
Two little donkey pets, Oh, I loved
them so!
When I was in Switzerland, just a year
ago.

How they liked bananas!
And our apples sweet;
They had lovely manners,
Every thing they'd eat.


Then, I'd rub their furry ears, and
they'd shake their bells,
While old driver Raspar, funny stories
tells.

Max turns round and winks so pretty,
Little, sharp round eyes;
Beppo sings a jolly ditty,
Quite to our surprise.
Then we mount, and off we go, up and
down the mall,
Never do they careless trip, never make
a fall.

Once, a princess royal
Wanted little Max;
How to part those friends so loyal,
Her little brain she racks.
She would give her gold and silver, in
a little purse,
Then throw in for measure good, her
scolding English nurse!

Then she cried, and chattered
All her pretty French,
And her little feet she pattered,
On the rustic bench.
"My papa is king," she said, "and I'd
have you know,
I shall have the donkey, and to prison
shall you go."

How their tiny feet would scamper,
Up the valley blue,
Carrying each his generous hamper,
And his rider, too.
Sure of foot, they'd clamber round the
mountain spur
Where the foot-sore tourist scarcely
dared to stir.

In this bright, sunshiny weather,
I remember with a sigh,
We no more can play together,
Beppo, Max and I.
Never dearer friends exist, in this world
below,
Than I made in Switzerland, just a year
ago.


44





















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MRS. L. L. SLOANAKER.

There's going to be a concert
Out in the apple trees;
When the air is warm and balmy,
And the floating summer breeze


Waft down the pale


pink blossoms


Upon the soft green grass:-
A lovely place to sit and dream,
For each little lad and lass!

The concert will open early
When the sun lights up the skies:-
You'll miss the opening anthem
If you let those sleepy eyes
Stay closed, and.do not hasten
Out neathh the orchard trees,
Where the pink and snowy shower
Is caught in the morning breeze.


The robins will swing in the branches,
And carol, and whistle and sing.
The thrush, who is coming to-morrow,
Will a charming solo bring.
The wrens will warble in chorus,
Rare music, so touching and sweet;
The orioles sent for their tickets,
And will surely give us a treat.

The concert will open at sun-rise,
All the June-time sweet and fair;
There'll be a grand full chorus,
For all the birds will be there.
The concert is free to the children,
And is held in the apple trees,
And the birds will sing in a chorus,
0 come to our concert-please!









"WHERE'S SOPHIE?"


Sophie climbed the garden trellis,
Plucked the finest grapes in view;
How they shone with red and amber,
As the sun came glinting through.

She was taking painting lessons,
And she paused and gazed at them;
"Oh," she said, "a pretty picture,
Grapes and green leaves on a stem.

"I will leave them here, unbroken,
Close beside the garden walk;
Look!" she said, to Cousin Mary,
"Just anear this broken stalk."

Off they went through pleasant path-
ways;
Staying longer than they knew,
By a russet, leaf-strewn border,
With its asters, pink and blue.

Then their friendly gossip over,
Homeward as they turned to go;
"Oh, the grapes!" said Sophie, quickly,
"We must go for those, you know."

When they reached the precious clus-
ter,
Five bold sparrows pertly stood,
Pecking at the grapes beside them,
Chattering in a wanton mood.

"Look! Oh, look!" said cousin Mary,
Sparrows at your luscious store!"
"Shoo!" said Sophie, "was there ever
Such a piece of work before ?"

Filfering sparrows, you have taught me,
By this loss, a lesson true;
When a bunch of grapes I gather,
Just to keep them safe from you.


I knew a boy who was preparing to
enter the junior class of the New York
University. He was studying trigo-
nometry, and I gave him three exam-
ples for his next lesson. The following
day he came into my room to demon-
strate his problems. Two of them he
understood; but the third-a very
difficult one-he had not performed.
I said to him,-" Shall I help you ?"
"No, sir! I can and will do it, if you
give me time."
I said: "I will give you all the time
you wish."
The next day he came into my room
to recite another lesson in the same
study.
Well, Simon, have you worked that
example ?"
"No, sir," he answered; "but I can
and will do it, if you will give me a
little more time."
"Certainly, you shall have all the
time you desire."
I always like those boys who are de-
termined to do their own work, for they
make ottr best scholars, and men tco.
The third morning you should have
seen Simon enter my room. I knew
he had it, for his whole face told the
story of his success. Yes, he had it,
notwithstanding it had cost him many
hours of severest mental labor. Not
only had he solved the problem, but,
what was of infinitely greater import-
ance to him, he had begun to develop
mathematical powers which, under the
inspiration of "I can and I will," he
has continued to cultivate, until to-day
he is professor of mathematics in one
of our largest colleges, and one of the
ablest mathematicians of his years in
our country.
My young friends, let your motto
ever be,-" If I can, I will.


"IF I CAIN, I W'1ILL. 1


















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pansieg.


As I walked
B


in my garden to-day,


I saw a family sweet.


Many wee faces looked up,
From their cool and shady


Some had blue


retreat.


eyes and golden


curls,


Some dark eyes and raven locks,


Some


were dressed


And some wore


in velvets so rare,


quaint,


gay


frocks.


I asked these babies so dear,
To come and live ever with me!
Then laughing so gaily they said;
" We are Pansies, don't you see ? "


MRS. L. L. SLOANAKER.


41


V///////


W"1110


~









LITTLE ELSIE.


FAITH LATIMER.
"I don't thee ath a Chineth baby
lookth any different from any other
folkth baby, do you, Perthy ?"
"That's what I am trying to find
out," said Percy, whom his little sister
May called her "big brother;" for
only that morning she had said to her
mother,-" I will athk Perthy, he ith
tho big, he muth know every thing."
Percy was as full of wonder as little
May over the baby sleeper. He wanted
to see the back of her head, but it
was resting on the soft pillow, and the
eyes were tightly closed. May stood
at the foot of the bed longing, and yet
afraid, to pull up the cover, and look at
the little feet. "Do you thpect she
wearth pink thatin thlipperth like thothe
in the glath cathe ?" she said.
The voices did not waken the baby
even when Percy made May give a little
scream as he pulled her braided hair,
and carried off the ribbon, saying,-
You've got a Chinese pig-tail anyway."
Did you ever see a big brother do any
thing like that ? Then Percy went out
and slammed the door, and left little
May thinking very hard, and the baby
asleep, after all that noise. What
was May thinking about? She had
heard mamma talk a great deal about
China, and had seen queer pictures of
people with bald heads and a long
braid of hair hanging down behind, and
in the cabinet in the sitting-room was
a pair of tiny pink satin slippers, so
small that her little hand could just go
into one of them. Then she had a
Chinese doll with almost a bald head,
and the queerest shaped eyes; and that
was why she and Percy wanted this baby
to wake up that they might see what
she looked like. That very morning
while the children were visiting their
grandmother, a carriage came to their
house, bringing a little baby and its
mother; and by the time they got
home, the child was in May's crib, fast
52


asleep, and the two mothers were talk-
ing together as they had not done for
years before. Baby Elsie was not
easily wakened, for she never had a
very quiet place to sleep in. She was
quite used to strange noises on ship-
board, creaking ropes and escaping
steam, loud voices giving orders to
sailors, sometimes roaring waters and
stormy winds. She had been many
nights in a railroad sleeping-car, and
she was not disturbed by the rush of
wheels, or the whistling of the locomo-
tive. Before that, she lived part of her
little life on a boat in a narrow river,
and a few months in a crowded, noisy
house. Does it seem as if she had
been quite a traveler? She had just
come all the way from China-a land
on the other side of the round world-
and that was the reason that May
called her a Chinese baby. Percy and
May had never seen Elsie's mother,
although she.was their own aunt, for
she and her husband had been more
than ten years missionaries in China,
and had come on a visit to America.
Don't you think the two mothers, dear
sisters, who had been so long and so
far apart, had a great deal to say to
each other? Do you expect they
wanted Elsie to sleep quite as much as
her cousins wanted her to wake ? She
was a good child, but she knew how to
cry, and after a few days Percy said,-
"She's not so much after all, she can't
talk and tell us any thing, and when she
cries, she boo-hoo's just as you do, May."
In a week, two more Chinese travel-
ers came; the baby's father, and
another cousin, Knox, a boy nine years
old. Did you ever fire off a whole
pack of Chinese fire-crackers at a time?
That was almost the way that questions
were asked by the two boys, back and
forth, so quick and fast that there was
hardly time to answer each one. The
boy from Shanghai found as many
things strange to him as the New
York boy would have seen in China.
Percy, and May, although she could
not understand half she heard, were full








'of wonder as Knox told of living on a
boat in the river, of so many boats
around them, where people lived
crowded together as closely as houses
could be on land. He told of the
cities, of narrow, crooked streets, all the
way under awnings, to be shielded
from the hot sun; of riding many miles
in a wheel-barrow, with a Chinaman to
push it along the road. They all
laughed when Percy said they called
their cousin Elsie "a Chinese baby;"
and the grown folks helped to tell
about the black-eyed babies over there,
wrapped up in wadded comforts and
placed standing, a great, round roll, in a
tall basket, instead of a cradle. Percy
thought the best thing he heard was
of a boy in a royal family. He had to
be well taught, for he must be a wise
scholar in Chinese learning, but no one
dared to touch or hurt him; so a poor
boy of low rank was hired and kept in
the house to take all the whippings for
him; and whenever the young prince
deserved correction, the bamboo rod
was well laid on the poor boy's back.
What would you think of such a plan?
Elsie's father and mother were going
back to China, but they were not will-
ing that Knox should grow up there;
he must go to some good school and
stay in this country. Even little Elsie
they dared not trust out of their sight
among the Chinese.
And so for the love of the dear Mas-
ter, who said,-" Go and teach all
nations," they were willing to leave
father and mother, and home, loving
sister and friends, even their own young
children, for His sake.
Don't you believe our heavenly Father
will watch over Knox and Elsie, and
make them grow up wise and true;
ready to go back to the land where they
were born, to carry on the good work
their father and mother are doing in
that strange, far-off country ?
Do you know of any ways in which
children at home can help such work
in China, or in other far-off foreign
lands ?


KITTY STRIKER
Little Kitty Striker saw
A handsome, fat, old goose
Out a-walking with her gosling.
And she said,-" Now what's the use,
Of letting that old waddler have
Such a pretty thing as that ?
I'll run right out and get it;
I'll go without my hat."
Out she ran upon the dusty path,
On the grass, all wet with dew,
And the old goose turned round quickly,
She wished an interview.
And Kitty said,-" Oh, open your mouth
As muci as ever you please;
I'm going to take your gosling,
Because I love to tease
Such a cranky, impudent squawker as
you.
And she laughed right out, and stooped
To take the toddling little thing,
When down upon her swooped,
The angry goose with hisses fierce,
And wildly flapping wing,
And gave her a nip that was no joke!
On the heel of her red stocking!
Miss Kitty screamed, but tightly held
The little yellow ball,
And you know she'd not the shadow of
right
To that goose's gosling at all.
Then its mother made a terrible snap
At Kitty's pretty blue dress!
And that thoughtless, mischievous little
girl,
Was pretty well frightened I guess.
For she jumped and screamed, danced
round like a top,
And the goose's eyes flashed red;
And she struck her wings in Kitty's
eyes,
And on her little brown head!
She dropped the gosling, and ran for
home,
Screaming, and crying,-" Boo! hoo!
And learned a lesson she never forgot,
And it's as wholesome for me and for
you,
That it's best to be kind to our barn-
yard friends,
And let them have their fun too.









MAKING.


Phil says he thinks it is a great pity
when the May isn't out till June, be-
cause you can't go Maying if there
isn't any May, and it's so stupid to go
Maying in June. Phil is eleven months
and fourteen days younger than I am,
and his birthday is on the fourteenth of
February and mine is on the first of
March; so for fourteen days we are the
same age, and when it's Leap Year we
are the same age for fifteen days.
I don't understand why it should be
a day more some years and not others,
but mother says we shall learn about it
by-and-by. Phil says he will like learn-
ing all that, but I don't think I shall,
because I like playing better.
Phil and I have a little dog of our
own, and he belongs between us. His
name is Dash. He came from the
Home for Lost Dogs, and we didn't
know his name, so Phil and I sat on
the grass, and we called him by every
name we could think of, until Phil
thought of Dash, and when Dash
heard that name he jumped up, and
ran to Phil, and licked his face. We
don't know what kind of dog he is, and
father called him a 'terrier spaniel;'
but he laughed as he said it, and so
we're not quite sure that he wasn't in
fun. But it doesn't matter what kind
of dog Dash is, because we are all fond
of him, and if you're fond of any one
it doesn't matter what they're like, or
if they have a pretty name.
Dash goes out with us when we take
a walk, and I'm sure he knew yesterday
when we went out without leave, be-
cause we wanted to go Maying. There's
a beautiful hedge full of May blossoms
down the lane and across the meadow,
and we did want some May very badly.
So Phil and I went without asking
mother, and Dash went with us.
We found the place quite easily, and
had pulled down several boughs of it,
when we heard a gruff voice calling to
us, and the farmer came up, asking what
we were doing to his hedge.


I said, "'Please, we didn't know it
was yours, and we want some May very
much, because to-morrow's the first of
June, you know, and Phil says we can't
go Maying then."
The farmer didn't say any thing until
he caught sight of Dash, and then he
called out, angrily,-" If that dog gets
among my chickens, I shall have him
shot!"
We were so frightened at that, that
we ran away; and Dash ran too, as if
he understood what the farmer said.
We didn't stop for any May blossoms.
though we had picked them, and we
did want them so, because of its being
the thirty-first of May.
Phil said the farmer was calling after
us, but we only ran the faster, for fear
he should shoot Dash. When we got
home, mother met us in the porch, and
asked where we had been; then we
told her all about the farmer, and how
we wanted to go Maving while we
could.
She laughed a little, but presently
she looked quite grave, and said,-" I'm
very glad to find you have told me the
whole truth, because if you had not I
should still have known it. Farmer-
Grey has been here, and he told me
about your having gone across his.
meadow that he is keeping for hay.
He has brought you all the May you
left behind, and he says you may have-
some more if you want it, only you
must not walk through the long grass,
but go round the meadow by the little
side-path. He said he was afraid he had
frightened you, and he was sorry."
Phil and I had a splendid Maying
after that. We made wreaths for our-
selves, .and one for Dash, only we
couldn't get him to wear his, which
was a pity.
But the best of all is that mother
says she can always trust us, because
we told the truth at once; and Phil and
I think we would rather never go May-
ing any more(though we like it so much)
than not tell her every thing. I'm sure
it's a very good plan, and we mean to








grown up Mother laughs at that, and
says,-" You will have your secrets
then;" but Phil and I don't think we
shall, because it couldn't be a really
nice secret if we mightn't tell mother.
I. T.

GRACIE'S TEMPER.

Once a gentle, snow-white birdie,
Came and built its nest,
In a spot you'd never dream of,-
In a baby's breast.


Then how happy, gentle, loving,
Grew the baby, Grace;
All the smiles and all the dimples
Brightened in her face.


But a black and ugly raven
Came one morn that way;
Came and drove the gentle birdie
From its nest away.

Ah! how frowning and unlovely
Was our Gracie then,
Until evening brought the white dove
To its nest again.


Children, this was Gracie's raven,
This her gentle dove,-
In heart a naughty temper


Drove away the love."


MONG
the pas-
se ngers
on board
a river-
steam er
recently
was a
woman,
accom-
panied
by a bright-looking nurse-girl, and a
self-willed boy, about three years old.
The boy aroused the indignation of
the passengers by his continued shrieks
and kicks and screams, and his vicious-
ness toward the patient nurse. He tore
her bonnet, scratched her hands, without
a word of remonstrance from the
mother.
Whenever the nurse showed any
firmness, the mother would chide her
sharply, and say,-" Let him have it,
Mary. Let him alone."
Finally the mother composed herself
for a nap; and about the time the boy
had slapped the nurse for the fiftieth
time, a bee came sailing in and flew on
the window of the nurse's seat. The
boy at once tried to catch it.
The nurse caught his hand, and said,
coaxingly:
"Harry mustn't touch. It will bite
Harry."
Harry screamed savagely, and began
to kick and pound the nurse.
The mother, without opening her
eyes or lifting her head, cried out,
sharply :
Why will you tease that child so,
Mary ? Let him have what he wants
at once.
"But, ma'am, it's a-"
"Let him have it, I say."
Thus encouraged, Harry clutched at
the bee and caught it. The yell that
followed brought tears of joy to the
passengers.
The mother awoke again.
"Mary she cried, "let him have it."
"Mary turned in her seat, and said,
confusedly :-" He's got it, ma'am."




















THE SONG OF THE FIVE CHICKS.


Sang the first little chicken,
With a queer little squirm,
'I wish I could find
A fat little worm."
Sang the next little chicken,
With an odd little shrug,
SI wish I could find
A fat little slug."
Sang the third little chicken,
With a sharp little squeel,
"I wish I could find
Some nice yellow meal."


Sang the fourth little chicken,
With a small sigh of grief,
"I wish I could find
A green little leaf."
Sang the fifth little chicken,
With a faint little moan,
"I wish I could find
A wee gravel stone."
"Now, see here," said the mother,
From the green garden patch,
"If you want any breakfast,
Just come here and scratch."


A STRONG PULL.


Three girls,
With their curls,
Three boys,
With their noise,
Are pulling to see,
Which the stronger must be.


Now we
Can plainly see,
That boys,
With their noise,
Are losing the game,
And much cf their fame.


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ENGLAND'S QUEEN.


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WINDSOR CASTLE.
This ancient and splendid pile is a fit-
ting residence for the sovereigns of
England. It impresses one with the
idea of supreme grandeur and formida-
ble strength, but it has reached its pres-
ent magnificence, by constant embel-
lishments and additions by successiire
sovereigns.
It owes its origin to William the
Conqueror, that bold and progressive
Norman, who created here a fortified
hunting seat, where he and his brave
barons could enjoy themselves after
the "hunting of the deer" in the wild
glades of Windsor forest.
The castle stands upon a hill on the
bank of the river Thames, twenty-three
miles from London, with which it is con-
nected by railway. It is surrounded on
all sides, except the east, by a noble ter-
race above two thousand five hundred
feet in extent, faced by a strong rampart
of hewn stone, and having, at intervals,
easy slopes leading down to the park.
The terrace is a most delightful walk,
commanding charming views of the ex-
tensive domain and the surrounding
country. Everywhere are evidences of
royal expenditure, of watchful care and
tasteful ornamentation.
The park abounds in woodland scen-
ery of exquisite beauty, and it does
seem as if the "English sunshine" was
nowhere more satisfying or refreshing
than in these delightful avenues. The
deer roam at will, and streamlets trickle
and English violets and other wild flow-
ers blossom, the praises of whose deli-
cate perfumes and beauties have been
sung by Wordsworth and Keats.
There is a stately walk, three miles
long, bordered by double rows of trees,
which leads from the lodge to these
delightful precincts, and at the en-
trance stretch away in gorgeous array,
the Queen's gardens, in which very
beautiful and rare productions of floral
culture find a congenial home.
The castle consists of two courts,
having a large, round tower between
60


them, and covers more than twelve
acres of land, being defended by bat-
teries and towers. The upper court is a
spacious quadrangle, having a round
tower on the west, the private apart-
ments of the sovereigns on the south
and east, the State apartments and St.
George's Hall and the chapel royal on
the north.
The royal apartments are reached by
an imposing vestibule. The first room,
the Queen's guard chamber, contains a
grand array of warlike implements, and
glittering weapons, and its walls are
rich in paintings.
The Queen's presence chamber con-
tains the rarest furniture and hangings,
with an array of artistic works by the
most celebrated masters.
The ball-room is hung with tapestry,
representing the twelve months of the
year, and upon its ceiling is pictured
Charles II, giving freedom to England.
There is here an immense table of solid
silver.
In the Queen's bed-chamber is the
State bed, said to have cost $70,ooo,
designed for Queen Charlotte. The
Queen's dressing-room, hung with Brit-
ish tapestry, contains the closet in
which is deposited the banner of France.
The same closet contains the tea-equi-
page of Queen Anne.
An elegant saloon is called the Room
of Beauties," and contains fourteen por-
traits of ladies who were "most fair in
the court of Charles II. Their lovely
faces and rich apparel, quaint and oddly
fashioned, make a most delightful and
instructive study.
The audience chamber contains the
throne and is enriched with historical
paintings of events in the reign of
Henry III. Another guard chamber
contains an immense collection of war-
like instruments, fancifully arranged,
and also the flag sent by the Duke of
Wellington in commemoration of the
battle of Waterloo.
St. George's Hall, which is one hun-
dred and eight feet long, is set apart for
the illustrious "Order of the Garter."






















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It is superbly decorated with allegorical
paintings. The chapel is a fine speci-
men of the florid Gothic. The roof is
elliptical and is composed of stone; the
whole ceiling is ornamented with em-
blazoned arms of many sovereigns and
knights of the Garter. The stalls of
the sovereigns and knights exhibit a
profusion of rare carving. The chapel
is the burial place of many royal and
illustrious persons; Edward IV, Henry
IV, Henry VIII and Charles I having
been interred here.

THE LITTLE PRINCES.

Among the sad episodes in the illus-
trated history of English sovereigns,
not one is more pathetic or impressive
than the story of the two little Princes,
sons of Edward IV. This King had an
ambitious and unscrupulous brother,
called Richard, Duke of Gloucester.
At the time of the King's death, this
man was at the head of an army in
Scotland, which was entirely devoted to
him, and he felt strong and equal to
undertaking any bold and unlawful
measure to obtain the crown, which
rightfully belonged to Edward's son,
the young Prince of Wales.
Upon receiving the news of his broth-
er's death, Richard clothed himself and
his large retinue in deep mourning and
proceeded in great haste to London,
taking the oath of loyalty on the way,
and making many protestations of in-
terest and affection for the fatherless
boys.
The young Prince of Wales received
him with many expressions of regard
and respectful consideration, as befitted
a paternal uncle, and placed undoubted
faith in his suggestions; the Duke thus
found it an easy matter to direct his
movements, and the selection of his.
counselors and servants. Two of these,
who were favorite and loyal friends, he
caused to be seized on a frivolous accu-
sation, and they were taken to a dis-
tant castle as prisoners. Other meas-


ures were taken to isolate him, and in
a few days the young King was com-
pletely in the hands of the terrible
Duke of Gloucester.
From one high-handed act of usurpa-
tion to another, assisted by unprinci-
pled, ambitious men, he proceeded, evi-
dently aiming to secure the crown for
his own head.
Under pretense of placing the Prince
in greater safety, and removing' him
from persons who might influence him,
to the detriment of the peace and wel-
fare of the kingdom, he was conducted,
in great state, to the Tower; his uncle
assuming the office of Lord Protector
of the King.
Upon gaining the entire custody of
the royal lad, he sent a large number of
dignitaries to the royal mother, to per-
suade her to allow the other little boy
to be taken to the Tower to keep his
brother company. The Prince was al-
lowed to proceed thither, and Richard,
now having them both at his mercy, de-
termined upon their death.
The Governor of the Tower was, it
seems, a man of at least human feel-
ings, and when he was ordered by
Richard, "In some wise to put the chil-
dren to death," utterly refused to per-
form so dangerous and horrible an act.
Richard then sent for the keys of the
Tower, to keep in his possession twen-
ty-four hours, and gave them, and the
command of the Tower for that time,
to Sir James Tyrrel, his master of horse.
This man procured two assassins,
who proceeded, at dead of night, to
the chamber of the sleeping Princes.
They lay in each other's arms, as though
they had fallen asleep comforting one
another; and the assassins, falling
upon them with their ruffian strength,
smothered them with the bed-clothes,
"Keeping the feather pillows hard upon
their mouths."
When the deed was done, Tyrrel
stepped into the chamber, to take a
hasty view of the dead bodies, which
were then, by his orders, buried at the
stair-foot, under a heap of stones.








Richard, Duke of Gloucester, had no
further obstacle in assuming the purple,
and was crowned King of England with
all pomp and ceremony, and known to
unenviable fame as Richard III.
This account has come down to us
with all the authority of historical
verity, and subsequent evidences of its
accuracy have been discovered. The
age was characterized by inhumanity of
the most barbarous kind, and this crime
was in keeping with it.
The English people in this nine-
teenth century rejoice in a sovereign
who is noble in the highest sense; be-
loved by her subjects, achieving for
herself the universal plaudit of a "most
humane and gracious lady."

THE TOWER OF LONDON.
This ancient edifice is situated on
the north bank of the Thames, at the
extremity of the city of London.
The antiquity of the building has
been a subject of much inquiry, but
the present fortress is believed to have
been built by William the Conqueror,
and garrisoned with Normans to se-
cure the allegiance of his subjects; al-
though it appears that the Romans had
a fort on this spot, if a dim tradition
can be credited. The building is gov-
erned by the Constable of the Tower,"
who, at coronations and other State cer-
emonies, has the custody of the regalia.
The principal entrance is on the west,
and consists of two gates, at which are
stationed guards. The keys are kept,
during the day, at the warder's hall, but
deposited every night at the Gover-
nor's house. Cannon are placed at in-
tervals around the great wall, and com-
mand every avenue leading to Tower
Hill.
On the south side is an arch, called
"Traitors' Gate," through which State
prisoners were formerly brought from
the river. Near the Traitors' Gate is the
"Bloody Tower," in which it is sup-
posed the two young Princes, Edward


V and his brother, were smothered by
order of Richard III.
In the south-west angle of the in-
closure were the royal apartments, for
the Tower was a palace for nearly five
hundred years, and only ceased to be
so on the accession of Elizabeth.
The principal buildings within the
walls are the church, the white tower,
the ordnance office, the jewel office,
the horse armory. The church is called
"St. Peter in Vincules," and is re-
markable as the depository of the head-
less bodies of numerous illustrious per-
sonages who suffered either in the
Tower or on the hill. Among these
were Anna Boleyn, Thomas Crom-
well, Catharine Howard, the Duke of
Somerset and the Duke of Monmouth.
The jewel office is a strong, stone
room, in which are kept the crown
jewels, regalia, such as the golden orb,
the golden sceptre with the dove, St.
Edward's staff, State salt-cellar, sword
of mercy, golden spurs, the golden
eagle and golden spoons, also the sil-
ver font used at the baptism of the
royal family, the State crown worn by
her Majesty in Parliament. A large
collection of ancient plate is also kept
here.
The horse armory is a brick building
east of the white tower, adorned with
suits of armor of almost every descrip-
tion; but the most striking are the effi-
gies of the English kings on horse-
ack, armed cap-a-pie. The line of
mounted celebrities commences with
William the Conqueror and ends with
George II. Several of the cuirasses
and helmets taken at Waterloo are kept
here. In the armory are also shown a
representation of Queen Elizabeth in
armor; the axe which severed the head of
Anna Boleyn, as well as that of the
Earl of Essex; the invincible banner
taken from the Spanish Armada, and the
wooden cannon used by Henry VIII at
the siege of Boulogne.
The Beauchamp Tower is noted for the
illustrious personages formerly confined
within its walls.










































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MARY AND HER LAMB.
This' is the title of one of the most
familiar poems in the English language,
but few people know its history.
Most of our young readers will be
surprised to hear that the well-known
nursery song of "Mary had a Little
Lamb' is a true story, and that
"Mary" is still living, says an ex-
change.
About seventy years ago she was a
little girl, the daughter of a farmer in
Worcester county, Mass. She was
very fond of going with her father to
the fields to see the sheep, and one day
they found a baby lamb, which was
thought to be dead.
Kind-hearted little Mary, however,
lifted it up in her arms, and as it
seemed to breathe she carried it home,
made it a warm bed near the stove,
and nursed it tenderly. Great was
her delight when, after weeks of care-
ful feeding and watching, her little pa-
tient began to grow well and strong,
and soon after it was able to run about.
It knew its young mistress perfectly,
always came at her call, and was happy
only when at her side.
One day it followed her to the village
school, and not knowing what else to
do with it, she put it under her desk
and covered it with her shawl.
There it stayed until Mary was
called up to the teacher's desk to
say her lesson, and then the lamb
walked quietly after her, and the other
children burst out laughing. So the
teacher had to shut the little girl's
pet in the woodshed until school was
out. Soon after this, a young student,
named John Rollstone, wrote a little
poem about Mary and her lamb and
presented it to her. The lamb grew to
be a sheep and lived for many years,
and when at last it died Mary grieved
so much for it that her mother took
some of its wool, which was as "white
as snow," and knitted a pair of stock-
ings for her, to wear in remembrance of
her darling.


Some years after the lamb's death,
Mrs. Sarah Hall, a celebrated woman
who wrote books, composed some verses
about Mary's lamb and added them to
those written by John Rollstone, mak-
ing the complete poem as we know it.
Mary took such good care of the stock-
ings made of her lamb's fleece that
when she was a grown-up woman she
gave one of them to a church fair in
Boston.
As soon as it became known that
the stocking was made from the fleece
of "Mary's little lamb," every one
wanted a piece of it; so the sticking
was raveled out, and the yarn cut into
small pieces. Each piece was tied to
a card on which "Mary" wrote her full
name, and these cards sold so well that
they brought the large sum of $140 in
the Old South Church.-Our Sunday
Afternoon.


JAMIE'S GARDEN.

"I shall have the nicest kind of a gar-
den," said Jamie, one morning. "I'm
going to make it in that pretty little
spot just over the bank. I mean to
have some flowers in pots and some in
beds just like the gardener; and then
you can have fresh ones every day,
mamma. I'm going right over there
now."
Jamie started off bravely with his
spade on his shoulder; but when, after
an hour, mamma went to see how he
was getting on, she found him lying on
the grass, with the ground untouched.
"Why, Jamie, where is your gar-
den?"
"I was just lying here, and thinking
how nice it will look when it is all
done," said Jamie.
Mamma shook her head. "But that
will not dig ground, nor make the flow-
ers grow, little boy. No good deed was
ever done by,only lying still and think-
ing about it."


67











V


my


IN THE
WOODS.


/ Merryvale was not
a very lively place for
j any one except a cou-
ple of young colts,
and as many calves,
jumping around after
their mothers.
The bees seemed to be making a
good deal of fun for themselves, if
stinging us children amused them, and
buzzing into every pretty, bright flower,
so that no one could pick it with safety.
The crows, too, collected in great
gossiping parties, in the pines, over on
the shore of the pond, and they always
seemed to be congratulating themselves
over something immensely satisfactory.
But we children, especially the girls,
found it very dull after we had seen
the few sights of the farm. The boys
were trying to hunt and fish; but Lib
and I talked that over, and we came to
the conclusion, after much laughing
and many caustic remarks, that the
only amusement we had was, laughing
at their failures.
We communicated that fact to them,
but it didn't seem to make any differ-
ence; off they went on the same fruit-
less hunt, and left us to do what we
might, to make ourselves happy.
68


The next day, Lib and Dora and I
told them we would go into the woods
with them and see what the charm was.
Lib was the eldest of us three, and had
read a great deal, and she said:
"May be we shall find the robbers'
cave, and if we say, 'Open Sesame,'
the great stone doors will slowly swing
open, and we can go in where the
chains of flashing gems and the heaps
of golden coin are.'
"I think you'll get into places where
you can't get out; 'open sesame' will
never lift you out of a marsh hole,"
said William Pitt Gaylord, our eldest
brother.
"Mollie, you can find somebody to
have a talking match with, for there are
lots of chipmunks over in the grove,'
remarked Hugh.
"I've seen snakes in that very woods,
too," and if you'd holler, Lib, at that
end of the pond, as you do at this end
of the tea-table, you wouldn't catch
any fish," said William. This caused
an uproarious laugh on the part of the
boys.
We listened quietly to their sarcastic
remarks, knowing they were prompted
by an unreasonable desire to monopo-
lize the delights of the woods to them-
selves.
William Pitt remarked that "Girls
had no business to meddle with boys'
sports, and they'd come to grief if they
did; you'd see!"
Next morning the August haze lay
soft on the landscape, but in a short


Ti









time it went off, and Father, learning
that we girls were going to spend a
part of the day in the woods, quietly
told the boys that they must escort us
to the pleasantest place, and not wan-
der very far off. They pouted consid-
erably, and had a talk at the corner of
the barn; they then came back, smiling,
and apparently good-natured.
Our brothers did not intend to be
unkind, but they had the common fail-
ing of humanity-selfishness. But Lib
matched them in a dozen ways with her


*1-.




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good-humored retaliations; and many a
tilt she had with William Pitt since we
had arrived at the farm. In the city she
was abreast of him in all his studies;
and I noticed that Lib could get out
her Latin, and write a composition
much faster than he, and often he had
been obliged to come to her for aid.
It nettled Lib not to be able to hunt
and fish. We two younger ones mod-
eled after her; she was the leader, and
when she said we would go with the
boys, we went.


"Hello Fred," said Hugh, as a
neighboring boy, a city boarder, came
through the gate, attired in base-ball
cap and knickerbockers, "we can't go to
Duck Inlet to-day. Father says the
girls must have a good time, too, and
that we must devote one day to them,
at least."
"All right," said Fred, "can I go
with you? I'll go and get my butterfly
net, and we can go over to Fern Hol-
low mill, the winter-greens and berries
are as thick there! Gracious! you can
get a quart pail full in no time.
The mill-wheel' is a beautiful
sight," said Fred, turning to
Lib, "and you can sketch it,
Miss Gaylord."
Lib looked upon Fred with
a little more toleration, after
he had said "Miss Gaylord,"
and went and ordered an
additional ration to be put
into the lunch basket. We
were glad to have Fred along
with us, for he was very fun-
ny, and made jokes on every
thing.
Lib would allow no one to
carry the lunch basket but
herself, as she remarked, "It
is safer with me."
We started, and were tempt-
ed to loiter at all the little
nooks on the leaf-shadowed
road, and investigate the
haunts of the curious dwel-
lers in the rocks and bush-
es, and especially were we
interested in the ducks on Fern Hol-
low creek. Dora insisted upon feed-
ing them a piece of bread. "Calamity,"
the dog, was along, of course, and as
he belonged to William Pitt, who called
him "Clam," he was always in that
boy's company. It was, "Love me,
love my dog," with William; and as
he was a professional of some kind, he
was greatly prized by the boys.
We reached the woods and the old
mill early; I think I never was in a
more delightful place. Every thing
69








seemed to grow here. Winter-greens,
with their crimson berries, shining in
the moss, and blueberries, where the
sun came; tall, white flowers that grew
in clusters in the shade, sent their per-
fume all about. Back of the mill, on
some sandy ledges, grew pennyroyal
and spearmint;
raspberries and
blackberries
grew every-
where.
The boys


went off to
gather a
quantity for lunch,
and Lib and Dora
and I hunted for a
pleasant place to
set out our dainties.
We found it. A
natural bower, between four
trees; one being a giant of a
pine, right at the doorway. The C
wild grape-vine and the woodbine
had enclosed the space so com-
pletely, that Lib, who had thought-
fully brought along a scissors to
cut off stubborn plants, could make
two windows in the green wall; one
looking into the woods, the other off
at the distant pond. The grass was
fine in here, and the sunbeams
dropped down in little round spots,
on the pine needles that covered the
floor.


"This is certainly the fairies' dining
hall," said Lib.
"I'll tell you what, said I, "this is
not far from home, and we can bring
things, and have a little parlor here. I
can make a couple of curtains out of
that figured scrim, for windows, and
that old square rug in the car-
riage-house will do for the floor.
You can bring your rocking-
chair, Lib, and Dora can bring
her tea-set.
"I'll bring our Christmas and
Easter cards, and we can fasten
Them all about, on the walls," said
Lib, who had fallen in immedi-
ately with the plan.
"I'll bring Mrs. Snobley, and
all her children, and the dining
table," said Dora.
She had reference to her large
doll, and a whole dozen of little
ones, that were always brought
forward in any play that Dora
had taken a fancy to.
We were in such haste to
put our scheme into operation,
that we dispatched the lunch
a in short order, and told the
boys of our plan. They thought
it was capital. Any thing that
would release them, after they
had eaten all that was to be had,
would, of course, be received
with acclamation. They ac-
knowledged the same, in a very
neat speech, which Lib said,
"did very good for Hugh."
She fell in immediately with
our fun, and helped us to a num-
ber of nice things, to furnish
our greenwood bower. We
worked tremendously that after-
noon, and after Betty had washed
the dinner dishes, she helped us. Be-
fore sun-down every thing was complete.
The boys, who had taken themselves a
mile away, to hunt, came round to visit
us on their way home. They agreed
that it was just perfect, and inquired if
we hadn't put in an elevator, to reach
the second story, with numerous other


70









inquiries, intended to be funny; and
then asked where we kept our cran-
berry tarts.
"We're not going to allow any boys
in this play-house after to-day," said I;
your feet are muddy, and you're so big,
you fill it all up."
Our visitor, Fred, looked at his feet,
and blushed. Not after to-day ? How
are you going to keep any one out ?"
inquired William Pitt.
"We will draw this portiere across
the door-way, and no gentleman would
think of entering," said Lib.
"No, they wouldn't, sure enough,"
said Hugh. "How are you going to
prevent our looking in the windows ?"
"Only rude boys would look in win-
dows," said Fred, "and I don't know
of any hereabouts."
They laughed at this, and Lib laughed
too, and made the sly remark, that
"Hunting on the duck-pond trans-
formed some people mighty soon."
Fred said he'd try to be on his good
behavior if we'd let him make a formal
call on us the next afternoon. We
consented to this; then they all said
they'd call.
The next day we busied ourselves in
preparing a spread of good things for
our reception, and Betty took it over,
and on returning, said every thing was
just -as we had left it. We dressed
ourselves up in our best, to receive the
gentlemen, a little time after dinner.
The woods were never so lovely, we
thought, and to add to our personal
charms, we made wreaths and garlands
of ferns and wild-flowers to adorn our
persons and hats.
I had sauntered along considerably
in advance, and as I approached the
bower I was not a little surprised to
see from a distance that the door-cur-
tain was drawn half open. I stopped
to listen, but there was no sound, only
a wild bird piping its three little notes,
down by the mill. I cautiously went
up, and peeped into the little window,
and there stood a man on the rug! He
seemed to be looking about. I think I


never was so frightened. I ran back,
and whispered to the rest the dreadful
state of things. They looked horror-
stricken. Lib changed color, but just
stood still. Then she said,-" There's
plenty of help over at the mil.'
"Oh, let us go no nearer, but get
home as fast as we can," I said.
Lib raised her hand in warning for us
to keep still, and we crept along, softly,
behind the bower ; and when we had got-
ten so far, we all turned around and ran
for dear life into the woods again.
"This is nonsense," said Lib. "You
were mistaken, Molly, I'm sure."
I said I'd go back with her, and she
could see for herself. We crept to the
back of the bower, and Lib leaned over
and looked in. Lib turned pale, caught
hold of my hand and Dora's, and ran
quite a distance toward the mill.
Then she stopped, and said, as true as
she was alive, there wag a man in there;
he stood with a large stick resting on
his shoulder, upon which was slung a
bundle, tied up in a red handkerchief,
his clothing was ragged, and his hat
was very dilapidated.
Oh, Lib, I'm going to run for it,"
said I.
Wait a minute," said she. "I don't
hear any noise. Let's think; if we
didn't have to go right in front of the
door, we could get to the mill."
All this time we were edging our-
selves as far away from the dangerous
precincts as we conveniently could.
She stood again, perfectly still. "I
wont go another step," she said. That
moment's reflection had re-instated her
courage. He don't come out; I should
say that was making an informal call
when the ladies were out. He's a
beautiful-looking specimen anyway,"
said Lib, with fine irony; and as she
said this, she frowned, and put her
head back.
No sound was heard, and no demon-
strations from the interloper were made.
The sight of the mill-wagon, going
slowly down the road, gave us heart,
and Lib said:








I'll go and order him out, be the
consequences what they may. Mollie,
you're good at screaming, you can
bring the miller here if we have to get
help."
Don't Don't! I would rather he
stole all our things; let him have the
tarts and the cocoanut cake, and the
jam, and the pickles, and the cheese,
and the sandwiches! Let him have
them in welcome! I'm going to fly
home!"
"I want Mrs. Snobley!" sobbed
Dora.
Lib never said another word. She
walked up to the entrance, and pulled
aside the curtain, and there stood the
semblance of a man. In his extended
hand was a card, on which was very
badly printed:


"I'm a oor b'y,-I want a
home."
"References exchanged."
'll scrape the mud off me
boots, ifye'll let me in."


Lib called, "Come here, Mollie, it's
a trick of those boys."
We went in, and there we found the
interloper to be a scarecrow from a
neighboring field, ingeniously arranged
so as to appear very human.
At that moment, a loud laugh above
our heads betrayed the presence of the
boys in the trees, who clambered down
with hilarious expedition, and fairly
rolled themselves upon the ground
with' delight. They had seen all our
perturbation ; had heard my cowardly
cries and expressions; Lib's looking in
the window, and her fearful hesitation
and scamper behind the fairy bower!
The best thing to do was to laugh, and
that we did right heartily; we girls, were
internally thankful that the intruder was
only a scarecrow after all.
We ordered the boys take their silly


joke out, and to come in like gentle-
men, and make a formal call, and
probably they would be invited to take
some refreshments.
This news caused them to work with
great alacrity. They were dressed up
too; Fred having chosen to wear his
school uniform, with a gorgeous crim-
son sash and his sword.
We were never so delighted with
any thing as with that afternoon's ad-
venture. For hours we chatted and
laughed, and ate our refreshments,
until the western light began to take
on a ruddy hue, and we closed our little
bower and proceeded homeward.
What was our surprise, when we
reached there, to find that three young
friends from the city with their servant
had come to visit us. Merryvale was
not dull after that, I can assure you.


THE NEW SERVANT AT MERRYVALE.







































...



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THE LION AT THE "ZOO."
In the jungles, where the sun is so
fierce at noonday that the black na-
tives, themselves, cannot endure it, but
hide in huts and caverns and in the
shadows of rocks, dwelt this lion.
He did not mind heat, or storm, or
the tireless hunters. He was braver
and stronger than any other creature in
that tropical wilderness, and his very
appearance and the sound of his tern-
ble roar had sent many a band of hunt-
ers flying back to their safe retreats.
He prowled about the fountains at
night, and woe to any belated native or
domestic animal that happened to be
near; he would leap upon them, and
kill them with one blow of his huge
paw.
One day a bushman'sighted a fine
deer, and incautiously separated him-
self from his companions; the ardor of
the pursuit led him into the pathless
wilderness, and farther and farther from
help, if he should need any.
Pausing a moment, he looked about
him; he could not believe his eyes!
He saw, not forty rods from him, this
creature, regarding him! intense ex-
citement flashing from his eyes, his tail
swaying from side to side, and striking
the ground with a heavy thud.
The bushman fled in wild terror, and
with a bound the lion began the chase.
No match, indeed, could any one man
hope to be for such an enemy-no out-
running this fleet patrol of the forest;
roaring and foaming he came up with
the doomed hunter and struck him
down and killed him.
The roaring over his success was
something too terrible to hear. The
other creatures of the forest fled to their
dens and coverts, and the part of hunt-
ers, dimly locating the lion s where-
abouts, betook themselves to other
grounds, not caring to encounter so
formidable a foe. Little did they sus-
pect the fate of their comrade, and
they never knew of it until, a long time
afterward, they found the remains of
4


his hunting gear. The beast had torn
him to pieces and devoured him.
The devastations of this scourge of
the wilderness became so great in time,
that he depopulated whole villages, and
the superstitious natives, believing him
to be a demon, became so stricken with
fear that they would not attempt to
hunt him, and thus rid the forest of
him.
Some agents of a business firm in
Holland, who negotiate for the pur-
chase of these ferocious wild animals
for menageries, secured, by promises
of great help and large reward, a band
of intrepid native hunters, to procure,
if it were within the range of possi-
bility, this famed lion, alive.














A BEAUTIFUL DEER.
White men joined in the hunt. Brave
Englishmen and fearless Americans
attached themselves to the party, and
many were the hair-breadth escapes
and critical situations that crowded
upon their path.
On reaching the lion's neighborhood,
they took counsel as to the best way
of coming upon him, not knowing just
where his lair might be; but soon
they were guided to him by a distant
roaring. The advance hunters caught
their first glimpse of him before he was
aware of their presence. He had slain
his prey-the pretty creature lay near
the jungle lake, the sword grass and









the poisonous marsh flowers flaunting
their lush-growth all about. The ani-
mal's smooth coat was brown and
glossy, and its little black hoofs shone


The fearful encounter began! Many
of the natives were killed. One young
English nobleman was thought to have
received his death wound, when they


qI~!lU~W**Uh -------------asaaew


leiIIlrlul lalIUor llUIYIUYIWh~I(IIIII~hIueuas~iiiiiieIhi


...... ..."""""""~~
.lil- .
.
.-~~


HE WAS FINALLY CAGED.


bright in the sunshine. The lion re-
peated the same expressions of grati-
fied savagery he had indulged in when
he had devoured the native. He strode
about, lashing his tail and roaring.
76


spacious cage, to delight the thou-
sands who visit the menagerie, that
affords so much instructive amuse-
ment. He usually lies down in one
corner, and although he has lost much


came to close
quarters. The
creature was
overcome by
numbers and
heroic bravery
at last. He
was maimed,
disabled and
secured, in the
deft and ex-
peditious way
they have
learned in deal-
ing with these
animals. H e
was finally
caged, and the
rejoicings of
the natives
knew no
bounds; the
exploit was
celebrate d
with feasting,
dancing and
wild obser-
vances, the
women and the
children join-
ing in the un-
couth festivi-
ties.
He was re-
moved by his
foreign pur-
chasers, and
eventually se-
cured by a
City Park Com-
mission, and
was liberated
to walk about a








of his magnificent appearance, he
is still worthy to be called the "Forest
King."
If you happen to be in his section
when he gets hungry and calls for his
dinner, you will be greatly astonished,
if not frightened, at the sound of his
voice. It is like nothing else in nature.
It vibrates to the roof of the vast struc-
ture, and the windows rattle in their
frames. He tramps about and lashes
his tail against the bars and stamps his
feet, and his keeper hurries to throw
him his ration of raw meat. When he
is satisfied, he lies down and purs as
good-naturedly as a pussy cat, and looks
you in the eyes with an unwinking
stare.
You and I most earnestly hope that
he may never contrive to escape.


DISOBEYING MOTHER.

"I think, little goslings, you'd better
not go,
You're young, and the water is chilly,
you know;
But when you get strong,*
You can sail right along-
Go back in the sunshine, or walk in a
row.")

"No, no! we will go," said those bold
little things,
Except one little dear, close to moth-
er's warm wings.


Out went all the rest,
On the water with zest;
They said, "We will venture, whatever
it brings."

Their mother looked out, so kind and
so true,
Adown where the rushes and lily-pads
grew;
They looked very gay,
As they paddled away,
With their bright, yellow backs, on the
water so blue.


" Come


back!"


cried their mother,


"come back to the land!


I fear for my dear ones some evil
planned."
But they ventured beyond
The shore of the pond,


And laughed


at her warnings,


and


spurned her command.
Farewell, to the goslings! their troubles
are o er;
They were pelted with stones, by boys
on the shore.
Afar from the bank,
They struggled and sank,
Down deep in the water, to come up no
more.
Oh, see what it cost them, to have their
own way;
Their punishment came without stint
or delay;
But the sweet one that stayed,
And its mother obeyed,
Lived long, and was happy for many a
day.
77


---
,----,
-- -
--------
-~----c~=~`~---_~--- ~~
~ ~---








DISSOLVING COIN TRICK.

For this trick we require a small
tumbler made of thin glass, and a dime
or other small coin which has been
previously marked, so as to be readily
identified. The coin is dropped, in full
view of the audience, into the glass,
over which a handkerchief is thrown,
and all are placed on a table. The
performer then gives out a good-sized
table-knife and a plate of oranges. The
knife is examined, and an orange se-
lected. Returning to the tumbler, he
bids the coin to leave it and pass into
the orange. He removes the hand-
kerchief, and it is seen that the coin
has disappeared from the glass, and
on cutting open the orange it is found
in the center.
For this trick the young conjurer re-
quires first, -a prepared tumbler; second-
ly, a tiny ball of wax. Just even with
the bottom of the tumbler is a small
slit, which any glass grinder will cut
for a few cents. When about to pour
water into the tumbler, it is held with
the hand encircling it, so that one
finger presses into and covers the slit.
After the water is emptied and the tum-
bler wiped dry, the coin is thrown in,
and then by slightly tilting the glass,
just as it is being covered with the
handkerchief, the coin will drop into
the hand. Before beginning the trick,
the performer lightly presses the tiny
ball of wax upon the lowest button of
his vest, so that he can get at it just
the minute he needs it. After the
knife has been examined, and whilst
going for the oranges, he picks the wax
off its resting-place, pressing it firmly
upon the center of the knife-blade, and
78


then, in turn, presses the marked coin
upon it, and lays the knife on a table
with the coin side down. In cutting
the orange, the point of the knife is
used until a cut is made about half-way
down, and then, to finish, the blade is
drawn through, thus detaching the
coin, which will remain inside. As
some of the wax is likely to adhere to
the coin, the magician easily re-
moves it under pretense of wiping off
the orange juice.-Illustrated London
Paper.


THE FATE OF


A FLEET.


Two bright boys forsook their toys,
And cracked some nuts in two;
And set them afloat, each little boat,
With its flag of red or blue.

"Let's start a breeze," said Fred, as he
Shook
His kerchief to and fro;
He kept up the fun, till every one
Of his boats began to go.
*

Said Fred, "Let's run along the bank,
And see which one will beat!"
And Harry went, on a good time bent,
And watched the tiny fleet.

But soon they met with a sad mishap,
And all the sport was done;
They sailed right into a flock of geese,
And were floundered, every one.





















..r.


-41


_I _











A SUMMER AT WILLOW-
SPRING.

The trunks were strapped on the
back of the carriage; we children, with
Nurse, were bundled inside; the door
shut-the driver snapped his whip-
and without any time for last good-
byes, we were whirled away to the
station. How excited and glad we
were, for Papa and Mamma were to fol-
low us next day, and we left the
city far behind to spend the whole
beautiful summer at Willow-spring.
The very first day after our arrival, we
were out-Willie, my brother, Elsie, our
little four-year-old sister, and myself-
scouring the premises, and I guess
there was not a nook or corner we had
not visited by night. It was a lovely
place, with broad shady walks through
which we raced, or Willie drove us as
two spirited young colts, for like most
boys he was rather masterful.
I wish I could tell you of the grand
time we had that summer. We formed
the acquaintance of several little neigh-
bor children, who proved pleasant play-
mates, and together we would wander
through the cool leafy woods, or roam
the sunny meadows gathering sweet
wild strawberries and armsful of gold-
en-eyed daisies, and taking our treas-
ures home, would have a little treat on
the shady veranda, and garland our-
selves with long daisy chains, making
believe we were woodland fairies.
Once in a while the rabbits from the
near wood ran across the garden path,
timid and shy little creatures at first-
they grew quite tame from our feeding
-and Elsie dearly loved her bunnies,
as she called them.
Rapidly the days flew by, and the
time for our departure was at hand.
We felt sorry to leave, but Mamma, to
console us in part, planned a little out-
door feast for the day before our go-
ing, to which our little friends were all
invited, and a happy, merry band of
children played out under the trees,


and ate the goodies so generously pro-
vided. Just before breaking up, we all
joined in playing our favorite game of
Snap the whip," and with screams
and laughter, one after another of the
weakest ones rolled over in the soft
grass. The last night at Willow-spring
wound up with a grand frolic, in which
all took part.



GREAT EXPECTATIONS.

Every little grape, dear, that clings unto
the vine,
Expects some day to ripen its little
drops of wine.
Every little girl, I think, expects in
time to be
Exactly like her own mamma-as sweet
and good as she.
Every little boy who has a pocket of
his own,
Expects to be the biggest man the
world has ever known.
Every little lambkin, too, that frisks
upon the green,
Expects to be the finest sheep that
ever yet was seen.
Every little baby colt expects to be a
horse;
Every little puppy hopes to be a dog,
of course.
Every little kitten pet, so tender and
so nice,
Expects to be a grown-up cat and live
on rats and mice.
Every little fluffy chick, in downy yel-
low dressed,
Expects some day to crow and strut or
cackle at his best.
Every little baby bird that peeps from
out its nest,
Expects some day to cross the sky from
glowing east to west.
Now every hope I've mentioned here
will bring its sure event,
Provided nothing happens, dear, to hin.
der or prevent.




























SOEofol rhmh SEl
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ssERS1 3 _7


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JoE' k~p~ himsAj to etWoidalb
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CVTED


E. 1 ;17








A STUFFED JUMBO.
Yesterday, Alice met the stuffed very much affected by the meeting.
Jumbo, her former mate. She walked He was Jumbo's old keeper.-Hu-
slowly up to him, and then stood for a few mane Journal.
moments, evidently surveying him
with wonder. Then she swung
her trunk so as to reach Jumbo s
mouth. She also touched his
trunk in a cautious manner, and
then turning her back upon him,
gave vent to a groan that made
the roof of the garden tremble.
William Newman, the elephant
trainer, Frank Hyatt, the super-
intendent, and Toddy Hamil-
ton, talked to her in their usual
winning way, and she again faced
Jumbo. She fondled his trunk,
looked straight into his eyes, and
again she groaned, and then '
walked away as though disgusted
with the old partner of her joys
and sorrows. She went back to
her quarters and continued to -----
mourn. Her keeper, Scott, was
appealed to by the spectators.
He was asked whether he be-
lieved that she recognized Jumbo,
and he replied in all serious-
ness, "Of course she did. She ---
told me so," At another time he A e-P
said, "I can understand elephant ... --
talk, and Alice told me she
recognized Jumbo." Scott seemed JUO1130 ,IAK~IG HIMSELF USEFUL













SCENE AT A.N ELEPHANT MARKET.

83









LOOK AT THE BABY.

This way and that way, one, two, three!
Come, if you want a dance to see;
With his chubby hands on his dress so
blue,
See what a baby boy can do.
One foot up and one foot down;
See him try to smile and frown;
He would look better, I do declare,
With some more teeth and a little more
hair.
One, two, three, chick-a-dee-dee!
This I take the fact to be,
That there never was, on sea nor shore,
Such a queer little dance as this before!


POPPY, THE DOVE.

We had a dove once, one of the com-
mon wild sort. It was given to us
when quite young, and got so tame
that it was allowed to go free, just as
it liked, in and out of doors and all
about the house. We explained to our
twin cats, Darby and Joan, that it was
a 'chicken,' therefore they must not at-
tempt to catch it, as, although they
dearly loved to lunch off a fat sparrow,
or make a supper off a plump chaffinch,
it was quite sufficient for us to intro-
duce any bird to them as a chicken for
Them to respect its life and limbs.
Certainly Poppy, the dove, must, to
.say the least of it, have been very 'try-
ing' to the cats' minds, as she had a
bold way of strutting around the cats
when they were sitting, calmly blink-
ing at her out of their big, yellow eyes,
as much as to say 'Touch me if you
dare!" and one day, in a specially im-
pudent mood, she went so far as to
offer Darby the insult of a peck on the
nose. Darby's look of offended dig-
nity was superb as she turned her back
on the upstart bird.
84


Poppy made a most peculiar noise
when excited in any way, either vexed
or pleased. We could only compare it
to the twanging of an ill-strung guitar,
so she gained the nickname of "The
Old Guitar."
After we had had her some time, a
hedgehog was brought in to us from
the fields. Well, I confess we were all
rather afraid of it, it had such a steal-
thy, creepy-crawly way of going about.
Sometimes, in the midst of our talk
and laughter, we would suddenly hear
the scrape, scrape of his spines along
the wainscot, and see it sneaking round
the room; or we would be perfectly
silent, so that one would think the
slightest sound would have been heard,
then, lo! there he was, at our feet.
One night poor Poppy had been more
impudent and bold than ever, and we
had laughed heartily at her funny little
ways. The hedgehog, too, was more
startling and ghostly than usual, so
that we had almost decided to send him
out again, when, soon after we had all
gone to bed, and the house was quiet,
my sister was roused by hearing the
Old Guitar twanging away in a most fu-
rious style. She listened for a few mo-
ments, thinking what a concert Poppy
was giving all to herself, and wonder-
ing if any thing ailed her; but know-
ing her generate ability to take care of
herself, my sister, when the twangs got
fewer and fainter, concluded all was
right, and went to sleep.
Great was the grief and consterna-
tion in the house next morning when
the servant, on opening the shutters in
the dining-room, found it strewn with
Poppy's feathers, and carefully tucked
under the fender were her dear little
feet and wings -not another vestige
of her anywhere! That dreadful hedge-
hog had killed and eaten her. The
pretty creature had, no doubt, fought
hard for her life, and my sister always
regretted not having gone to ascertain
the meaning of the unusual commotion
she heard-the poor dove's dying cries
for help.

















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"BUT THEN."


It was a queer name for a little girl,
and it was not her real name-that was
Lizzie-but everybody called her "But
Then."
My real name is prettier, but then,
I like the other pretty well," she said,
nodding her short, brown curls merrily.
And that sentence shows just how she
came by her name.
If Willie complained that it was a


miserable, rainy day, and they couldn't
play out of doors, Lizzie assented
brightly,-
"Yes; but then, it is a real nice day
to fix our scrap-books."
When Kate fretted because they had
so far to walk to school, her little sis-
ter reminded her,-
"But then, it's all the way through the
woods, you know, and that's ever so
87








much nicer than walking on pavements
in a town."
When even patient Aunt Barbara
pined a little because the rooms in the
new house were so few and small com-
pared with their old home, a rosy face
was quietly lifted to hers with the sug-
gestion,-
"But then, little rooms are the best
to cuddle all up together in, don't you
think, Auntie ?
"Better call her 'Little But Then,'
and have done with it," declared Bob,
half-vexed, half-laughing. "No matter
how bad any thing is, she is always
ready with her 'but then,' and some
kind of consolation on the end of it."
And so, though no one really in-
tended it, the new name began. There
were a good many things that the
children missed in their new home.
Money could have bought them even
there; but if the money had not gone
first, their father would scarcely have
thought it necessary to leave his old
home. They had done what was best
under the circumstances; still the boys
felt rather .inclined to grumble about it
one winter morning when they were
starting off to the village on an errand.
"Just look at all the snow going to
waste, without our having a chance to
enjoy it," said Will; "and the ice too-
all because we couldn't bring our sleds
with us when we moved."
"But then, you might make one your-
self, you know. It wouldn't be quite so
pretty, but it would be just as good,"
suggested Little But Then.
"Exactly what I mean to do as soon
as I get money enough to buy two or
three boards; but I haven't even that
yet, and the winter is nearly half gone."
"If we only had a sled to-day, Sis
could ride, and we could go on the
river," said Bob. "It's just as near
that way, and we could go faster."
"It is a pity," admitted the little girl.
"But then, I've thought of something
-that old chair in the shed! If we
turned it down, its back would be al-
most like runners, and so-"
88


"Hurrah! that's the very thing!"
interrupted the boys; and the old chair
was dragged out in a twinkling, and
carried down to the river. Then away
went the merry party, laughing and
shouting, on the smooth road between
the snowy hills, while Gyp followed,
frisking and barking, and seeming to
enjoy the fun as much as any of them.
"Now we'll draw our sled up here,
close under the bank, where nobody
will see it, and leave it while we go up
to the store," said Bob, when they had
reached the village.
Their errand was soon done, and the
children ready to return; but as they
set forth Will pointed to a dark spot a
little way out on the ice.
"What is that ? It looks like a great
bundle of clothes."
It was a bundle that moved and
moaned as they drew near, and proved
to be a girl, a little bigger than Lizzie.
She looked up when they questioned
her, though her face was pale with
pain.
"I slipped and fell on the ice," she
explained, "and I'm afraid I've broken
my leg, for it is all twisted under me,
and I can't move it or get up. I live in
the village. That's my father's carpen-
ter shop where you see the sign. I
could see it all the time, and yet I was
afraid I'd freeze here before any one
saw me. Oh dear! it doesn't seem as
if I could lie here while you go for my
father."
"Why, you needn't," began Bob;
but the girI shook herhead.
"I can't walk a step, and you two are
not strong enough to carry me all the
way. You'd let me fall, or you'd have
to keep stopping to rest; and putting
me down and taking me up again would
almost kill me."
"Oh, but we'll only lift you ihto the
chair, just as carefully as we can, then
we can carry you easy enough," said
Will.
And in that way the poor girl was
borne safely home; and the children
lingered long enough to bring the sur-



















































"BUT THEN, IT'S ALL THE WAY THROUGH THE


geon and hear his verdict, that Young
bones don't mind much being broken,
and she will soon be about again, as
well as ever."
"But I don't see how you happened
to have a chair so handy," said her
father to the boys. And when they ex-


GOODS YOU VKNOW.
WOODS, YOU KNOW."


plained that they were using it for a
sled, he said, with a significant nod of
his head,-"Your sled, was it ? Well,
I shall be surprised if my shop does
not turn you out a better sled than
that, just by way of thanks for your
kindness."


89


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"But then, wasn't it good that it was
only the old chair that we had to-day ?"
asked Little But Then, as she told
the story to Aunt Barbara at home.
" Oh Auntie, I had the nicest kind of a
time!"
"I believe you had," answered Aunt
Barbara, smiling; for a brave, sunny
spirit, that never frets over what it has
not, but always makes the best of what
it has where it is, is sure to have a good
time. It does not need to wait for it to
come-it has a factory for making it."


-The following is an Arabic proverb
taken from the mouth of an Oriental:
"Men are four. I. He who knows not,
and knows not he knows not. He is
a fool; shun him. 2. He who knows
not, and knows he knows not. He is
simple; teach him. 3. He who knows,
and knows not he knows. He is asleep;
wake him. 4. He who knows, and
knows he knows. He is wise; follow
him."


WHAT THE SNAIL SAID.

"You little chicks, tho' you peck at
my dress,
I will not get angry at that;
I know you would gobble me up if you
could,
As quick as a worm or a gnat."

" Say, little snail, you had better go on,
They may try the same trick upon
you.
"No, no," said the snail, with his hard
coat of mail,
I don't care a rush if they do.


"Little


girl, there's no harm to cause


me alarm,
I'll sit here and watch them a spell,
But as soon as they pounce, I'll cheat
them at once,
By getting right into my shell."

" But listen, wise snail, the old hen in
the coop
Has her eye very closely on you;
And if she gets out, it may put you
about,
Now mind, what I tell you is true."

" But dear little girl, she is fast in her
house;
No, no, she can't touch me, no, no.
But if that respectable fowl should get
out,


Oho!"


said the snail, "Oho 1'


90


I ijj







A CHANCE WORD.
Ralph and Lily had one game of
which they never tired, and that was
"horses." It was really a convenient
game, for it could be played on wet or
ne days, in the nursery or on the
road. Perhaps it was best fun on the
road, "like real horses ;" but I am not
sure, for it was very delightful to sit on
the nursery table, with the box of bricks
for a coachman's seat, and from that
elevated position to drive the spirited
four horses represented by the four
chairs, to which the reins would be
fastened.
One day-a fine day-the two chil-
dren were playing at their usual game
on the turnpike road, and waiting for
nurse, who had gone into a cottage
near by to speak to the washerwoman.
Nurse was a long time, and Ralph, who
was horse, was quite out of breath with
his long trot on the hard road. Lily
touched him up with the whip, but all
to no avail-he could run no more.
"I've no breath left," said the poor
horse, sinking down exhausted on a
heap of stones.
Lily put down the whip and patted
his head to encourage him. Soh! soh! "
she said, in as good an imitation as she
could manage of the way the groom
spoke to their father's horse; "you are
quite done, I see. You must rest, and
have a handful of oats," and she dived
into her pocket and produced a bit of bis-
cuit, which the horse ate with great sat-
isfaction, and soon professed himself
ready to go on again. "Ah!" said Lily,
sagely, "I knew you'd be all right soon;
there s nothing like food and kindness
for horses when they're tired."
A tinker, with a cart and a poor, ill-
fed beast harnessed to it, happened to
be passing, and heard the little girl's
words. He stared after her, for she
seemed very small to speak so wisely,
and the tinker did not, of course, know
that she was only repeating what she
had heard her father say.
"Well, I'm dazed!" exclaimed the


tinker, looking after the children;
"wherever did little Missy learn that?"
He said no more then; but Lily's
words stuck to him, and his poor horse
had reason to bless Lily for them, for
from that day forward he got, not only
more food, but more kindness and
fewer blows, and so he became a better
horse, and the tinker the better man in
consequence.

A LITTLE DANCE.

Oh, it is fun! Oh, it is fun!
To dress ourselves up, as Grandma has
done.
See how we go! See how we go!
Forward and back, heel and toe.
Lighter than down, our feet come down
Mind all your steps, and hold out your
gown;
Faster than that, whatever may hap,
Cherry.red waist and blue speckled cap.
Hi! Master John! Ho! Master John!
Don't go to sleep, while the music goes
on;
Faster than that! Faster than that!
Hold up your head, and flourish your
hat!
How she trips it along, that bright little
maid,
With her dainty blue skirt and spotted
brocade;
And that one in yellow, who wears the
red rose
How she keeps her mouth shut and
turns out her toes.
How they do spin! when they truly
begin;
Each dancer as airy and bright as a doll;
While the music complete, keeps time
to their feet,
With its fiddle-dee-diddle and tol-de-
rol-ol!
Oh, it is fun! Oh, it is fun!
To dance, when every duty is done;
Forward and back, or all in a ring,
A quick little dance is a very gay thing.








ROUGH, THE TERRIER.


I have a dear little Scotch terrier
called Rough. He is everybody's pet
as well as mine, he is so playful and
gentle; but his one great fault is curi-
osity, and it was indulging this that
nearly cost Rough his life.
In the town in which we at that time
lived, there were a number of religious
meetings being held, and whether it
was the crowds of people or the singing
that attracted Rough I do not know,
but certainly he was always most de-
sirous of being present. When I went
myself I always took him, for he be-
haved like a gentleman, and never
annoyed any one; but one night I was
prevented going, and when bed-time
came Rough could not be found. I did
not feel greatly alarmed, hoping he
would turn up next morning; but for
three days nothing could be heard of
him, except a friend told me he had
seen him among the crowd at the Hall
on the night I could not go. Nothing
more was heard of Rbugh, and I mourned
over my lost pet for a whole year.


We lived about thirty miles from
London, and I had to pay a visit to a
friend there, and before I left to return
home again she sail we might go and
see the Home for Lost Dogs, as it is
considered quite an interesting sight.
So the last day of my visit we set off,
and, after seeing the establishment, we
were just leaving, when the attendant
said there was a cage of dogs that were
doomed to die, as they had been there
a long time, and no owners had turned
up for them; would we like to see them?
So we rather reluctantly went to see
the sad sight, and, to my unbounded
astonishment and delight, Rough was
the first one I cast my eyes on; and,
oh, the welcome he gave me! licking
my hand and looking in my face, as
much as to say,-" Take me from this
dreadful place." The attendant could
not but see that the dog was mine, and
after a little delay, Rough was restored
to me, and he and I have never been
parted for a single day since this pain-
ful experience.


THE WHITE LILY.


A little girl said
To a Lily one day,-
" Oh, please tell me why
You wear white always? "
The little maiden held her ear
Quite near the Lily's heart


And listened, while her fingers pressed
The petals wide apart.
She thought she heard the Lily say,-
"An Angel came one Easter-day
And kissed me, that is why.
And since that day I can but wear
The lovely garment white and fair,
She brought me from the sky."


92










KITTIE'S PIE.


She caught


her apron


full of


snow,


This little girl so spry;


And went


and packed


it on a


plate,


To make a frosted pie.


She put it in the oven then,

And when she thought 'twas

done

She lifted out an empty plate,

And that's what made the fun.


/ 1= ~S~ *
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To go and do that silly thing,

She was too old by half.

She said, "I wont tell brother


Fred,


'J


'Twould only make him laugh."


L ~


A.'..


I I











LEAVES, AND WHAT THEY ARE GOOD FOR.


Leaves are so common, and we have
so many of them everywhere, that we
never think how beautiful they are.
You cannot find any two alike, any
more than you can find two people.
They are of every variety of form and
size, from an arrow's head to a violin.
The edges of some leaves are notched
like the teeth of a saw, others are
scolloped, while some are perfectly
plain. Some are very small, others so
large that you might almost sit under
their shade. They are arranged very
differently on their stems, in small
clusters, or in greater numbers of small
leaves.
Did you ever look at the small ribs
in a leaf, that spread out from the
larger rib running up and down the
middle ?
These are to make it strong, just as
the ribs of an umbrella hold that out
and strengthen it. Then look at the
delicate network between these ribs.
Some do not have these branching
ribs, because the leaf is strong enough
without them.
Now what makes them so strong?
Every thing in a plant or tree is made
from sap, and this sap in the leaves
makes the ribs firm, and if they have
no sap, they wilt. This always hap-
pens when you break off a leaf from its
stem. But take that leaf, and put it in
water, and it soon revives, and will
keep fresh for quite a long time. Do
you know why? Because the water
goes up the little pipes in the stem,
.and takes the place of what has gone


out of its pores, or the little holes out
of which the watery part of the sap es-
caped.
A great deal of the water in the air
in summer comes from the leaves of
the trees and plants, because it goes up
swiftly from the earth into the plants,
and they breathe out moisture into the
air, all the time. This moisture is what
makes the air soft in hot days; and
when you think how many millions of
leaves there are, you see how much
good they can do.
But leaves can do something more
than give out moisture to the dry air.
They give beautiful shade to all the
animals that live out of doors, as well
as to man; they shield the fruits from
the broiling sun. as they ripen; but the
greatest use of all is to keep the plants
alive and make them grow. Leaves
are really the lungs of the plant or
tree; just as much to them as our
lungs are to us, but they are not used
in the same way. We use the air, and
make it bad; and this bad air the
leaves take in, because it does them
good; and in exchange, they give us
good air, and all summer long this ex-
change is going on. And in winter,
when the leaves are off the trees and
plants, the bad air goes off to southern
countries where they are still growing
-for you know the wind is a great
messenger--nd back comes a fresh'
supply of good air to us in exchange.
Isn t this wonderful? We can never
doubt the power of God, when we see
what marvelous things He can do.


'~ ~? ~
I
A-


..
c )L -~Q::;J
(







TWO RUNAWAYS.
Bess was the only one at all to blame;
and if you had once looked into her
blue eyes, or felt her chubby little arms
around your neck, you never could have
found it in your heart to scold her.
As for Prince, you can see by the way
he holds his head that he is really proud
of his part in the story. This is the
way it happened. Bess was spending
a week with Grandma, because some-
body's baby, in the very next house to
where Bess lived, had the scarlet fever,
so they sent her away to be out of
danger. She was as happy as a bird for
three days, trotting after the chickens,
poking grass through the fence to the
white calf, feeding the lame duck with
her bread and butter, and sailing pea-
pod boats in the trough where they
watered the horses. Wherever Bess
went, Prince followed. You might have
thought he understood every word when
Grandma said, "Now, Prince, you must
take care of Bess; I'd sooner trust you
than most nurse girls," he looked up in
Grandma's face with his soft, beautiful
eyes, swung his great plume of a tail,
and whined a little as if he were just
going to speak, but from that moment
e seemed to feel that Bess was his
special charge.
The fourth day was washing day, and
to make matters worse, Grandma had
a bushel of strawberries to can. A
bushel of ripe, red, delicious berries,
and only one pair of fingers to pick off
the troublesome stems. Bess helped,
of course, till her little red mouth, that
gaped like a robin's, would not open for
another one, and then Grandma carried
her away to the bed-room for her morn-
ing nap. There she lay on the pillow
watching a spider weave a lace curtain
behind the morning-glory vines, and
though she was not very sleepy, she
would never have thought of getting
up if some one had not come in and left
the door open. Some one was Sophy,
who tip-toed to the closet, got Grand-
ma's bonnet and parasol, and tip-toed
96


out again, forgetting to shut the
door.
Did you notice if Bess was asleep? "
asked Grandma.
"Very near it," said Sophy, "she lies
there sucking her thumb as contented
as an angel.'
"She's safe for two hours then, and
when she wakes you can give her her
dinner. It's too bad about the ber-
ries, but sick folks are of more conse-
quence than strawberries," and away
went Grandma to see what was the mat-
ter with poor old Mrs. Dawson.
"I'll just do those berries myself,"
said Sophy, and went to work so busily
that shequite forgot Bess, and did not
hear a sound when the little lady took
her thumb out of her mouth, slid down
from the bed, and walked out of the
front door. Prince was lying on the
step, but he got up, stretched himself,
walked slowly behind Bess to the gate,
and stood patiently by her while she
looked up and down the road. There
was not very much to look at, but pres-
ently a lovely butterfly came flutter-
ing over the wall, sailed about a great
thicket of May weed, and then settled
down upon a purple thistle, waving its
wings slowly as if it were half asleep in
the sunshine.
S"Oh," said Bess, her eyes dancing
with delight as she saw it, but before
she reached the thistle the butterfly
finished its dream and went on. It was
not in any haste; it stopped here and
there for a sip of honey, it dropped
down on a spot of wet sand, it went
from side to side of the road, and still
Bess followed, and Prince kept close
beside her. By-and-by the butterfly
went over a fence into a field, and Bess,
with a little bit of disappointment in
her heart, pressed her face against the
rails and looked in. It seemed to be a
field of lovely red roses; thousands and
thousands of them; not growing on
high bushes, but one low mass of round,
bobbing flowers and dark green leaves.
Bess thought she could get through
the fence, so she squeezed her fat lit-












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