• TABLE OF CONTENTS
HIDE
 Front Cover
 Frontispiece
 The voyage of the "Jettie"
 Children's day at St. Paul's
 What shall he do with her?
 Half a dozen housekeepers
 The old stone basin
 Some Malayan dances
 The king's church
 Christmas Day
 Behind the white brick
 Song
 Why Wilster Elspeet's ship went...
 What the bird said
 Wondering Tom
 The funniest general in all the...
 Gold locks and silver locks
 Ten dollars
 Rumpty-Dudget's tower
 Pete's Christmas-tree
 "Sixty minutes make an hour"
 A jolly fellowship
 Nocturne (music)
 The little girl who wanted to go...
 Jack-in-the-pulpit
 The letter-box
 The riddle-box
 Back Cover
 Spine






Title: St. Nicholas
ALL VOLUMES CITATION PAGE IMAGE ZOOMABLE
Full Citation
STANDARD VIEW MARC VIEW
Permanent Link: http://ufdc.ufl.edu/UF00065513/00069
 Material Information
Title: St. Nicholas
Uniform Title: St. Nicholas (New York, N.Y.)
Alternate Title: Saint Nicholas
Physical Description: 68 v. : ill. ; 25-30 cm.
Language: English
Creator: Dodge, Mary Mapes, 1830-1905
Publisher: Scribner
Place of Publication: New York
Publication Date: -c1943
Frequency: monthly
regular
 Subjects
Subject: Children's literature -- Periodicals   ( lcsh )
Genre: periodical   ( marcgt )
 Notes
Dates or Sequential Designation: -v. 67, no. 4 (Feb. 1940) ; v. 70, no. 1 (Mar. 1943)-v. 70, no. 4 (June 1943).
Dates or Sequential Designation: Began with: Vol. 1, no. 1, Nov. 1873.
Numbering Peculiarities: Suspended Mar. 1940-Feb. 1943; vols. 68-69 omitted.
Issuing Body: Published by: Century, Aug. 1881- ; by Educational Pub. Corp. -1940; by St. Nicholas Magazine, 1943.
General Note: Description based on: Vol. 2, no. 12 (Oct. 1875); title from cover.
General Note: Conducted by Mary Mapes Dodge.
Funding: Preservation and Access for American and British Children's Literature, 1870-1889 (NEH PA-50860-00).
 Record Information
Bibliographic ID: UF00065513
Volume ID: VID00069
Source Institution: University of Florida
Holding Location: Baldwin Library of Historical Children's Literature in the Department of Special Collections and Area Studies, George A. Smathers Libraries, University of Florida
Rights Management: All rights reserved, Board of Trustees of the University of Florida.
Resource Identifier: oclc - 01764817
lccn - 04012675
 Related Items
Preceded by: Our young folks
Preceded by: Children's hour (Philadelphia, Penn.)
Preceded by: Little corporal
Preceded by: Schoolday magazine
Preceded by: Wide awake

Table of Contents
    Front Cover
        Front Cover 1
        Front Cover 2
    Frontispiece
        Plate
    The voyage of the "Jettie"
        Page 145
        Page 146
        Page 147
    Children's day at St. Paul's
        Page 148
        Page 149
        Page 150
        Page 151
        Page 152
        Page 153
        Page 154
        Page 155
    What shall he do with her?
        Page 156
        Page 157
    Half a dozen housekeepers
        Page 158
        Page 159
        Page 160
        Page 161
        Page 162
        Page 163
    The old stone basin
        Page 164
    Some Malayan dances
        Page 165
        Page 166
    The king's church
        Page 167
    Christmas Day
        Page 168
    Behind the white brick
        Page 169
        Page 170
        Page 171
        Page 172
        Page 173
        Page 174
    Song
        Page 175
    Why Wilster Elspeet's ship went into the church
        Page 176
        Page 177
        Page 178
        Page 179
        Page 180
        Page 181
    What the bird said
        Page 182
        Page 183
    Wondering Tom
        Page 184
        Page 185
        Page 186
        Page 187
        Page 188
        Page 189
        Page 190
    The funniest general in all the world
        Page 191
    Gold locks and silver locks
        Page 192
        Page 193
    Ten dollars
        Page 194
        Page 195
        Page 196
        Page 197
    Rumpty-Dudget's tower
        Page 198
        Page 199
        Page 200
        Page 201
        Page 202
    Pete's Christmas-tree
        Page 203
        Page 204
        Page 205
        Page 206
    "Sixty minutes make an hour"
        Page 207
        Page 208
        Page 209
    A jolly fellowship
        Page 210
        Page 211
        Page 212
        Page 213
        Page 214
        Page 215
        Page 216
        Page 217
        Page 218
        Page 219
    Nocturne (music)
        Page 220
    The little girl who wanted to go to the moon
        Page 221
        Page 222
        Page 223
        Page 224
        Page 225
    Jack-in-the-pulpit
        Page 226
        Page 227
    The letter-box
        Page 228
        Page 229
    The riddle-box
        Page 230
        Page 231
        Page 232
    Back Cover
        Back Cover 1
        Back Cover 2
    Spine
        Spine
Full Text





























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ST. NICHOLAS.


VOL. VI. JANUARY, 1879. No. 3.

[Copyright, x878, by Scribner & Co.]




THE VOYAGE OF THE "JETTIE."

BY JOHN GREENLEAF WHITTIER.

Two hundred winters' snowing,
Two hundred summers' glowing
Had passed on Bearcamp River;
And, between its flood-torn shores,
Sped by sail or urged by oars
No keel had vexed it ever.

Alone the dead trees yielding
To the dull axe Time is wielding,
The shy mink and the otter,
And golden leaves and red,
By countless autumns shed,
Had floated down its water.

From the gray rocks of Cape Ann,
Came a skilled sea-faring man,
With his dory, to the right place;
Over hill and plain he brought her,
Where the boatless Bearcamp water
Comes winding down from White-Face.

Quoth the skipper: "Ere she floats forth,
I'm sure my pretty boat 's worth
At least, a name as pretty."
On her painted side he wrote it,
And the flag that o'er her floated
Bore aloft the name of "Jettie."

On a radiant morn of summer,
Elder guest and latest comer
Saw her wed the Bearcamp water;
Heard the name the skipper gave her,
And the answer to the favor
From the Bay State's graceful daughter.
VOL. VI.-II.







THE VOYAGE OF THE "JETTIE."



Then, a singer, richly gifted,
Her charmed voice uplifted;
And the wood-thrush and song-sparrow,
Listened, dumb with envious pain,
To the clear and sweet refrain
Whose notes they could not borrow.

Then the skipper plied his oar,
And from off the shelving shore,
Glided out the strange explorer;
Floating on, she knew not whither,-
The tawny sands beneath her,
The blue sky bending o'er her.

Amid the tangling cumber
And pack of mountain lumber
That spring floods downward force,
Over sunken snag, and bar
Where the grating shallows are,
The good boat held her course.

Under the pine-dark highlands,
Around the vine-hung islands,
She plowed her crooked furrow;
And the rippling and the paddling
Sent the river-perch skedaddling
And the musk-rat to his burrow.

Every sober clam below her,
Every sage and grave pearl-grower
Shut his rusty valves the tighter;
Crow called to crow complaining,
And old tortoises sat craning
Their leather necks to sight her.

On she glided, overladen,
With merry man and maiden
Sending back their song and laughter,-
While, perchance, a phantom crew,
In a ghostly birch canoe,
Paddled dumb and swiftly after!

And the bear on Ossipee
Climbed the topmost crag to see
The strange thing drifting under;
And, through the haze of August,
Passaconaway and Paugus
Looked down in sleepy wonder.

All the pines that o'er her hung
In mimic sea-tones sung
The song familiar to her;
And the maples leaned to screen her,
And the meadow-grass grew greener,
And the breeze more soft to woo her.


[JANUARY,






l THE VOYAGE OF THE "JETTIE." 14


The lone stream mystery-haunted,
To her the freedom granted
To scan its every feature,
Till new and old were blended,
And round them both extended
The loving arms of Nature.

Of these hills the little vessel
Henceforth is part and parcel;
And on Bearcamp shall her log
Be kept, as if by George's
Or Grand Mennn, the surges
Tossed her skipper through the fog.


And I, who, half in sadness,
Recall the morning gladness
Of life, at evening time,
By chance, onlooking idly,
Apart from all so widely,
Have set her voyage to rhyme.

Dies now the gay persistence
Of song and laugh, in distance;
Alone with me remaining
The stream, the quiet meadow,
The hills in shine and shadow,
The somber pines complaining.

And, musing here, I dream
Of voyagers on a stream
From whence is no returning,







CHILDREN'S DAY AT ST. PAUL'S.


Under sealed orders going,
Looking forward little knowing,
Looking back with idle yearning.

And I pray that every venture
The port of peace may enter,
That, safe from snag and shoal
And siren-haunted islet,
And rock, the Unseen Pilot
May guide them to their goal.












CHILDREN'S DAY AT ST. PAUL'S.

BY N. D'ANVERS.


T", '. T '"TELL, Leonard, I hope you
S l 11 answer next time,
That's all! Here have
'-".- -i I been shouting, 'Leon-
S ard, Leonard,' and you
take no more notice
than if a mouse had
squeaked. Too much
i/ i liberty to call such a
iY- young swell as you've
b become, Leonard,' I
S- suppose; we outsiders
S must n't speak so famil-
iarly to a choir-boy of St. Botolph's "
A long speech, surely, for one boy to make to
another without eliciting any response; but then,
Leonard Layton, or "Double L," as he was some-
times called by his school-fellows, was at this mo-
ment absorbed in a dream of such exquisite
delight that I don't think he would have stirred if
a cannon had been discharged beneath the window
at which he sat. In reality, he was but a charity
boy, wearing the quaint costume, since abandoned,
which distinguished him as one of the Aldersgate
Ward scholars; in the imaginary land, however,to
which the little fellow had blissfully wandered, he
was already a successful musician, standing before
an orchestra of his own training, leading that
orchestra with his magic wand to higher and yet
higher triumphs. The first step to that great result


had been taken not very long ago by my hero's
admission to the choir of the church attended by
the school to which he belonged.
But Leonard woke from his reverie with a start,
and, turning his flushed face and bright blue eyes on
the speaker, he said, with a smile which would have
disarmed a less partial observer than his brother:
Well, Harry, what's the row now?"
"The row is," answered Harry, laying a big
brown hand on Leonard's blue serge jacket, "that
the choice is made, and I 've been all over the place
to look for you, and when I find you, I bawl at you
for half an hour, without "
Oh, Harry," interrupted Leonard, eagerly,
" am I? am I- ?"
Yes, you're chosen fast enough; old Compton
fixed on you the very first, though how any fellow
could pass me over and take you is beyond my
comprehension entirely, and no mistake. Now
Layton, junior, I put it to you--"
"Oh, don't, Harry; don't humbug about it!"
exclaimed Leonard; you know you never really
wanted to be in; you've often said you 're sick of it
all, and glad your voice is cracked, so that they
can't have you. Besides, how you'd tower above
all us little fellows! The street boys would laugh
as you went in. You remember how they shouted
'For children only!' when Smith went in at the
door last year. You told me about it yourself."
"All's well that ends well," laughed Harry; "and


[JANUARY,






CHILDREN'S DAY AT ST. PAUL'S.


now I've told you my news, let's hear what you
were dreaming about when I came in. I do wish,
Len, you'd come out and have a jolly good fling
between whiles; no wonder you get called a milk-
sop; and where'11 be the good of mother having
got you in here if you go and be ill ?"
I sha' n't do that, old fellow; no fear of that.
Harry, I must tell you, or I shall burst with think-
ing. It haunts me all through everything. I think
of it in school in play-time, most of all in church ;
it mixes itself up with the psalms and comes into
the sermon."
What does the boy mean?" cried Harry.
Don't laugh, Harry," said Leonard, getting up
and walking backward and forward with his hands
clasped behind his head. Harry," he added,
stopping suddenly before his brother, "it's music
that's haunting me;
not music generally,
but one fiece of music;
it 's been there ever
since that day in the
country; you remem-
her? Everything we
saw there-the river,
the trees, the rocks, /
the birds, even the
boys have somehow put


brothers' interview was broken in upon by the en-
trance of some of their school-fellows, and a few min-
utes later a bell summoned all the boys to study.
But even reading, writing and arithmetic, the
rudiments of geography and history, the dry
bones, as it were, of learning, which made up the
whole course of education in the Aldersgate Ward,
failed this afternoon to chase away the happy
expression which the good news had brought to
Leonard's face; and in the delight of practicing
under a skillful teacher the beautiful music to be
performed on Children's Day at St. Paul's, he forgot
for a time even the haunting melodies which had
sprung from the last great treat he had enjoyed.
The first meeting for practice in St. Sepulchre's
Church, Newgate, when a kind of foretaste of the
great day had been given to the children, had
seemed to Leonard sim-
ply perfect, and though
he was himself uncon-
scious of it, his voice had
S more than once rung
out in his exultation
Above that of his com-
l panions, and attracted

I leader of the little sing-
ers and of some visitors


themselves into music /'in the gallery. Already,
in my head, and I can't j \ had he but known it,
get it out. I've no / he had taken the sec-
voice for it." ond step toward the
"No voice-you 've goal on which he had
got the best voice in set his heart; but be-
the whole school," an- fore I go on with his
swered Harry, with a story I must pause for
schoolboy's literalness; one moment to explain
" and you '1l blossom how a boy of evidently
into a public singer gentle nurture came to
yet; if that's what you be growing up in a
mean, though how any London ward school as
fellow can like a bow- a pauper scholar.
ing and scraping life, Leonard had passed
when he might--" the whole of his young
"I don't mean that; life in the heart of the
I don't mean that" I" city. His mother, the
exclaimed Leonard, his THE BEADLE. widow of a curate, had
color rising painfully supported her two boys
at his brother's evident as best she could with
incapacity to understand him. "I mean I have her needle, until her painful struggle had
never learned how to write music; to give expres- attracted the notice of a distant relative of her
sion to --" husband, who had obtained the admission of both
Never learned to write music? Why, any fool boys into the school where we first saw them.
could imitate the crabbed characters you singing That poor Mrs. Layton was grateful, most grateful,
fellows are so fond of. I would n't break my heart for the timely help, none who had known of
about such a trifle as that, Len, if I were you." her previous despair could doubt, but neither did
Leonard sighed and was about to speak when the she ever see her sons in their charity garb or







CHILDREN'S DAY AT ST. PAUL'S.


amongst their humble companions without a sigh
from the very bottom of her heart for what might
have been had their poor father lived. Harry,
born before his parents' troubles began, when life
seemed to them full of all manner of beautiful pos-
sibilities, had inherited his father's originally
robust constitution and happy disposition; whilst
Leonard, four years younger than Harry,-a little
sister between them having died when he was a
baby,-had grown up in an atmosphere of privation
which could not but materially affect both his
health and his character. In every lot, however,
those who are not willfully blind may recognize how
tenderly the all-wise Father provides for his chil-
dren some compensation for their sufferings; and
if Leonard was physically the inferior of Harry, he
was far superior to him in intellect, in imagination,
and in a certain nameless purity of mind which
insensibly leavened all who came under his influ-
ence. Frail as he was, and by his peculiarities
presenting many a vulnerable spot for ridicule, Leon-
ard was never bullied, and, in his presence, the
coarse oaths which are, alas, so often thought
manly by English boys, were never heard. Very
eager had been the competition amongst the
Aldersgate boys for the honor of being one of
those chosen to join in the annual festival at St.
Paul's, yet none had grudged Leonard his place in
the proud ranks of the trebles."
The very eve of the festival had arrived. Again
Leonard was sitting on his favorite bench, appar-
ently looking just as before on his school-fellows at
play; but, in reality, trying to picture the scene in
which he should play his part on the morrow.


SINGING IN TUNE.
But, again, my hero's reverie was interrupted,
not this time by Harry, but by the entrance of one
of the masters into the school-room.
Ah! Leonard," said he, will you take this
note for me to its address? It is not a long walk,
or I would not ask it of you."
Leonard instantly consented and set out. It was


not a long walk; but, unfortunately, our hero fell
into one of his reveries and lost his way. It was
late; the neighborhood in which he found himself,
at last, was new to him, and the people in the
streets were rough and surly. He was in a bad
quarter of the town, and
S we know not what would
have become of him, if he
r. had not fallen in with a
Little girl-a ragged little
S girl, but a kind-hearted
:--_ one-who led him to the
.- address he was seeking.
S_ As they walked along
7, together, he told her of
/ the approaching Chil-
Sdren's Day at St. Paul's,
S\ ..s and of the part he was
to take in the ceremonies.
Katie, that was her name,
was wild to see and hear
LEONARD. 1
LEONR. it all. But how? Leon-
ard could see no plan by which such a ragged little
creature could get a place in St. Paul's.
The next day he told the master of the incident,
"Oh, sir!" cried the enthusiastic Leonard,
"she was so kind to me, and took so much trouble
to show me the way! Can't you get her a place
to see us in the cathedral; that's what she'd like.
'I'd give my head and ears to be there,' she said."
I am afraid I can't do that," said Mr. Dawson,
smiling at the boy's enthusiasm, "unless- by
the way, some one said- how big is Katie?
You know Lucy Green ? She was to have been one
of the girls; she 's sprained her foot. There's no
one else of her size to go; now if Katie could- "
I understand, sir !" cried Leonard, clapping
his hands. "You mean if Katie could wear Lucy's
dress she could go instead. Oh, it's the very, very
thing. Mother would manage it. Oh, sir, I may
go now and fetch Katie ?"
"No, leave that to me," said Mr. Dawson,
adding, almost to himself, "I'll arrange it with the
mistress." Then, aloud, "You must go now,
Leonard. Look out for Katie among the girls."
But, to return to Katie herself. Whilst Leonard,
converted by his mother's rapid and almost magic
manipulation from ajaded, shabby child, into afresh-
looking, gentlemanly boy, is sharing with his
school-fellows the hot rolls and coffee which are to
fortify them for their perambulation of the parish
before the ceremony itself, Katie is enduring such
a prinking at the hands of an assistant mistress
as she had never even imagined in her worst night-
mare. She felt, she expressed to Leonard after-
wards, as if she was being made over again,"
and certainly the result justified her somewhat


[JANUARY,


150






CHILDREN'S DAY AT ST. PAUL'S. 151


strong expression. Look at the little procession
starting from the school and see if you can make
out which is Katie. But, as you are not likely to


Y ,~iri% ,


V/ --
.5.
,L *`\ ~


the delights before them, and of their own excep-
tional importance; even the much dreaded
beadles, who know how to rap the knuckles of


ii I 'I

I '





- -i/ I
-.
______


LEAVING THE SCHOOL. --. C-',--
find out Katie for yo-ui -
selves, I will tell yor !
a whisper that she i. ,:.i ii I-.li, i :-.
the top of the steps. .,',.I ...- r.. II.-
girl who is looking :,r r I: ll ...
open mouth, saying, i-':i J ".~, "i !i:' ,.
And Leonard! I i,. i:.- ,.... i:.:, ,I :.
trait of him now. S-.- hn I ri.i..i-.l i,... :..i,
little small for him, r l It .:..-c i. i .
all the happier for th.: ,..: r...-: .:. I iri...-
ties passed and the -I :.u.h r* n 1..- i,, 1'. uiI i) I
sprung for Katie our ." C rh.: r.:.ll..l. I. i :.i :
has shared. And n.. 1.:.-.l: .,r th.-. ..rl' .-i b .'
from another part c.i ti-. ,:ar i .I ..,.i i t!.-ir
dear, prim little head:. n ... i I.., I .-.- ..n lrrl.-
costumes, the good r:-o:r-. t. ii-. o.i- ,i i...1 ..I-
up to which they have been subjected. Surely
these boys have never cuffed each other, shirked
their lessons, used bad language, or cheated at mar-
bles, or if they ever have, they never will again !
But it is half-past ten, and with one accord the
processions are starting on the perambulations or
walking round of their parishes. We will not fol-
low them all the way, but join them again as they
file into St. Paul's Church-yard, a little hot and
dusty, perhaps, but still buoyed up by a sense of


.

boys with such
terrible effect,
wear benefi-
cent expressions. Now I don't
think, do you ? that the one whose
portrait we give would have the
heart to turn Katie out, if he should learn of that
little goat's presence among the lambs.
With what wondering eyes Katie stared about
her in St. Paul's Church-yard! Where could all


\:-'
v .
3s~-
2S







CHILDREN'S DAY AT ST. PAUL'S.


these grand men, in their long black gowns
and tall hats, have come from ? Were they
greater, or not so great, as the beadles, with
the heavy gold sticks in their hands and
the gold all about them? Where was
Leonard now? Oh, there he was, amongst
a stream of boys walking side by side with
the girls. And the banners, with the
names of the schools on them-how they
fluttered in the
wind If it was so
beautiful outside,
what would it be in
the cathedral itself ?
Katie's heart beat
very fast as her turn
came to be ushered
up the steps by a
beadle, with a very
imposing wand of
office in his hand.
Suppose at the last
moment she should
be turned back? o
But Katie needed
not to be afraid.
The dreaded beadle THE STANDARD BEARER.
even smiled at her,
as he met the sweet wonder in her eyes for a mo-
ment, and, re-assured by that .smile, Katie drew a
long breath of relief. The next moment she was
in the beautiful cathedral, already apparently full
to overflowing with children and spectators. Katie
gave one long, wondering look around, and then
she stopped, and dropped the flowers she held,
causing a momentary pause in the procession.


"Pick up your flowers and move on,
stupid whispered the rather ill-natured
girl with whom the little intruder was
walking; and, with a face covered with
blushes, Katie obeyed.
She did not drop her flowers again,
but did her best to imitate her compan-
ions. When she stoodbeneath the dome,
and saw the tiers of seats some already
occupied, others waiting for the arrival of
the schools to which they were allotted,
Katie hardly could restrain her emotion;
but she managed to remain outwardly
calm. Her seat happened to be low down
and to face the choir, so that she could see
the east window, the clergy in their stalls,
and-what she liked still better-the
little boys in their white surplices in the
choir. Imitating the action of the other
girls as they took their places, our little
Katie hid her face in her apron for a few
moments, scarcely knowing why she did
it. The poor child had never learned to
pray, and yet I think that the wish that
went up from her little heart to be always
neat like this, was almost a prayer. Dimly
and vaguely the new sights and sounds
about her were awaking new ambitions
in our Katie, who never could, after this wonderful
day, be content again with the dirt and squalor of
the court in which she lived.
The prayer over, the white aprons smoothed
down over the knees, and the mittened hands folded
upon them, the children were free to gaze about
them a little, before service began. Katie, searching
for Leonard with eager eyes, was at first greatly


[JANUARY,







X879.] CHILDREN'S DAY AT ST. PAUL'S. 153


attracted by two little girls amongst the visitors,-
their portraits are given you on the next page,-
who were the daughters-though this Katie did
not know-of one of the city dignitaries, sitting in
grand state robes near the Lord Mayor, toward the
center of the floor. Are these little girls, in the
strangely shaped hats which were then coming into
fashion again, any prettier than some of the charity
girls, in their funny mob-caps ? I scarcely think
they are; do you ?
Just as the vast congregation rises to begin
the service, Katie catches sight of the banner
belonging to Leonard's school, far, far up above
her head on the right. Her eager look of recogni-
ion contrasts very pleasantly with the rather weary
expression of some of the more experienced singers.
Many eyes are turned to look at two fine little sing-
ers, whose voices come in sweetly toward the close
of the chorus,-yet one looks abstracted, and the
other is half asleep. The advantages the latter has
had, if they have taught her to join so correctly in
the Hundredth Psalm, perhaps deprive her of a cer-
tain sense of novelty, which shines in many of the
other young faces. To Katie, all is unmingled
delight; the very notes of her companion's voice
are to her a sweet and holy surprise, for never before
has she heard the wonderful, wonderful harmonies
of this mighty chorus. But because the girls, in their
quaint and many-colored costumes, are prettier than
the more soberly dressed boys, I must not show un-
fair partiality for them. I must leave Katie to stare
about her, and listen in wondering astonishment
to the music, to return to Leonard, who, perched
up in rather an awkward position for seeing any-
thing above him, yet scarcely once looked down,
and had not even thought of Katie. His whole


soul seemed to go up with the music, and he found
himself wondering that it did not lift up the dome
and escape back to heaven, from where, he felt, it
surely must have come. If I followed him through
the whole service, you would be as tired as I fear
many of the little ones who had entered the cathe-
dral so happily were, long long before it was over.
I have to tell you, instead, of rather a sad conclu-
sion to Leonard's part in the performance, and for
this you must imagine all the prayers to be over and
the sermon to have begun.
The text was very suitable for the young audi-
ence, to whom the sermon was specially addressed.
It was, "Be thou faithful over a few things," and
both the children in whom you and I are interested
were able to take in fully all that the preacher said.
Katie's attention, it is true, often wandered; how
could it be otherwise in such an unfamiliar scene ?
but Leonard listened, eagerly hoping, in his inno-
cent, childish way, that he had been faithful over
the few things trusted to him. But why did the
preacher's head begin to bob up and down?-were
the girls pelting him with their bouquets of flowers ?
Surely not. Leonard looked down upon the long
circles of white linen mob-caps beneath him. Why
were they whirling round and round? Was the
cathedral moving, or what ? The dome, too, as he
turned his eyes toward it, was spinning. Leonard,
frightened, giddy, scarcely knowing where he was,
flung his arms up above his head and fell heavily
forward upon the shoulder of the boy in front of
him.
There was a stir amongst the boys which spread
from their ranks to those of the girls beneath, and
thence to the visitors on the floor. What Leonard
had fancied, was partly coming. true; the mob-







CHILDREN'S DAY AT ST. PAUL'S.


AT PRAYERS.


caps, if not the preacher's head, were bobbing up
and down. Leonard did not see the real thing,
though. He was lifted tenderly in Mr. Dawson's
arms, and by him carried down between the cords
strained from the highest to the lowest tiers of seats,
marking off the spaces assigned to particular
schools.
When Mr. Dawson reached the floor with his
unconscious burden, he was met by a beadle who
whispered: Let me take him, sir; where does he
live? I'll see him safe home." Mr. Dawson gave
Mrs. Layton's address, and Leonard, still uncon-
scious, was carried out of the cathedral, past the
conductor and visitors, every one turning to look
with sympathy at his white face resting against the
coat of the resplendently attired beadle. The con-
ductor, who, you remember, had been struck by
Leonard's voice in St. Sepulchre's Church, saw him
carried past and determined to find out all about
him when he was released from the cathedral.







)-_, .









Katie, when she saw that the child who had
fallen was Leonard, could scarcely restrain herself
from running out after him. Not one word more
of the sermon did she hear, and when it was over
of the sermon did she hear, and when it was over


and the Hallelujah chorus begun, she started up
with a low cry of relief, which, fortunately, perhaps,
for her, was drowned in the burst of music. Katie
ever after associated the beautiful chorus with the
pain she felt on this occasion, as being still unable
to follow Leonard. When at last the signal for
leaving the cathedral came, her companion had
really every excuse for eager injunctions to Katie
to behave herself.
Back again in Aldersgate Ward, Katie, scarcely
to her regret, was compelled to resume her rags,
and she was bounding away in them toward Mrs.
Layton's lodgings when she met Harry coming to
seek her. Leonard was better, was asking for her.
And "Oh, Katie," added Harry as she trotted be-
side him, scarcely able to keep up with his long
strides, "there's such news The conductor has
been to inquire about him, and he 's going to take
him for his own pupil when he is better, and Mr.
Dawson is there; he has seen mother alone and
she won't tell me what he said."
But Katie cared nothing about Mr. Dawson;
why should she? As she stood beside Leonard
lying back on the slippery horse-hair sofa pale and
exhausted, but with a smile of intense interest
upon his lips, her little heart was full. Must she
go back now, after this peep into a world of love
and music, to the squalor and turmoil of the court?
"Katie, come here," said Mrs. Layton, seeing
the tears ready to fall from the bright blue eyes,
" tell me how you would like to stay with me and
be my little companion; Leonard is going away
from me to the other side of London, and "
"Yes, Katie!" cried Leonard sitting up and
holding out his hand, and you can have my little
attic and my bed, and I shall see you sometimes.
Oh, Katie, is n't it glorious ? "
"Glorious, indeed! echoed Harry; "though
how a fellow 's to do without you at that stupid old
school is more than this fellow, for one, can tell."


JANUARY,


r
.r
__uu -r I--


.1.
k~s:







i879.1 CHILDREN'S DAY AT ST. PAUL'S. 155

But the great day is over, and we must say good- and if we could follow her to her lodgings after she
bye to those with whom we have shared its mingled has taken her little charges back to Aldersgate
pain and joy. You would like to
know what became of them all after-
ward, you say; and, as a little bird
has told me something, I will pass '
it on to you. Let us fancy we are ', ,,
standing again at the corner of St. I i'' .L '
Paul's Church-yard, sixteen years "
after the "Children's Day" when .4, '
Katie and Leonard took part in the 1'Il'
procession. See, there is the con- 'i' ,li!l'll'l'", i 1
doctor, hurrying in to arrange his '

children. He is a tall, slim man, I' '
with blue eyes. Is there not some- '"' '.
thing familiar about him? Can it
be Leonard? See him turn and ,
smile, before he disappears in the
cathedral! Yes, it is the very smile '. .
which went to Katie's heart so many
years ago. And now the crowd is

filing up, so like, and yet so differ-
ent, from those we watched so long ,
ago. The knee-breeches are gone. I
The all-invading trousers have re-
placed them. There is nothing NEAR THE END OF THE SINGING. [PAGE 153.]
very distinctive now, even about
the banner-bearers of the wards. Buthere come the Ward, we should see what a cozy little home she
girls, they are not changed, the mob-caps, the white has made there for her poor old mother.
aprons and the long white gloves might be the And Harry and Mrs. Layton, where are they?
very same as those worn by Katie and her com- Harry is tossing about in a ship on the Atlantic,
panions. Do we see no familiar faces amongst Mrs. Layton is waiting in her pretty little house
them? No, not one. But who is that fair near London for Leonard's return home. She
young mistress speaking to a beadle in the dis- has a delightful letter from Harry that she is
tance? Can it be Katie herself? Yes, it is Katie, eager to share with her younger son.









i L .I

:Iil i






WHAT SHALL HE DO WITH HER?


LEFT BEHIND.





WHAT SHALL HE DO WITH HER?

BY CHARLES Di.ri i* WARNER.


THIS is a sad, but short, tale about a cat, or
perhaps about a rabbit that pretended to be a cat,-
I do not know which. You will presently see why
it must be short.
Some time ago a supposed friend sent me, as a
present, what purported to be a Chinese cat.
Thereby hangs a tale? Not at all. The cat
had n't a sign of a tail. It was said by way of
apology and explanation that all Chinese cats have
no tails. If this is a fact in natural history, it is an
absurd fact; for it is known that all Chinamen-
even the smallest-have tails, which are called


cues, and sometimes pig-tails, but never cat-tails.
And it seemed improbable and heartless that a
Chinaman would deny tails to his cats. However,
I took the kitten in, and named her China ",-a
name she has never responded to, to this day.
And this shows the animal's instinct; for when I
came to look in the dictionary, I found that, in all
probability, she was a Manx cat from the Isle of
Man,-a small English island (hardly room enough
to turn round) where cats are obliged to do with-
out tails. It is considered a very nice kind of cat,
if it is a cat, of which I have doubts. It is said


[JANUARY,







WHAT SHALL HE DO WITH HER?


that Turner, the great painter,-who was probably
as good a judge of cats as ever lived,-kept seven
Manx cats always in his house. Perhaps it was neces-
sary to have seven Manx cats to get the equivalent
of one real cat; in my experience it requires more.
As I said, I doubt if China is a cat, take her all
together. She had, as a kitten, no tail. Her grown
tail now is less than an inch long, and most of that
is fur. It is exactly'like a rabbit's tail, that is, a
kind of place for a tail. When China first began
to realize her existence, she evidently thought she
was a cat, and her first sportive effort was to play
with her tail. She looked around, and there was n't
any tail there; the other end of her was rabbit.
She was mortified; but what could she do ? She
began, without any apology, to play with her hind
leg, to chase it round and round as if it were a tail;
and ever after that she has amused herself with her
hind leg.
And her hind legs are worth playing with. For
they are not like the hind legs of a cat, but are
long and bend under exactly like the legs of a rab-
bit. When China sits down, she sits down like a
rabbit. So she is neither one thing nor another;
and I cannot make out whether she is a rabbit try-
ing to be a cat, or a cat trying to be a rabbit. She
succeeds, any way. China is rather handsome.
Her coat is the most beautiful combination of soft
buff and ermine fur,-a most pleasing color,-and
she is a shapely little thing besides, with a fine
head and pretty face. Like some other beauties,
however, she is not as good as she is beautiful.
She has a temper,-can be very playful and affec-
tionate one minute, and scratch and bite the next
without provocation. From an infant she seemed
to have no conscience. She was a perfect whirl-
wind in the house, when the whim took her to
frolic; went over chairs and all sorts of furniture
like a flying-squirrel; succeeded in about a week
in tearing off all the gimp from the chairs and
lounges, climbed the azalia trees, shook off the blos-
soms, and then broke the stems. Punishment she
minded not at all,-only to escape from it for the-
moment. I think she had not, as a kitten, a grain
of moral sense, and yet she was "awful cunning "
and entertaining,-more so than a spoiled child.
We got a sedate old cat to come and live with
China. She drove that big cat out of the house


and off the premises in less than half a day; and
that, too, when she was n't more than seven inches
long. She went at the big cat with incredible fury,
with the blaze and momentum of a little fire-ball.
Now that China has come to be of decent size,
some of the vivacity and playfulness has gone out of
her, but she is really untamed,-goes for things on
the table, steals, and all that; and it is more difficult
than ever to tell whether she is a rabbit or a cat.
We have another companion for her,-a mild,
staid old grandmother of a cat, with a very big
tail, enough for two,, if they would share it. China
treats her with no respect, but, on the whole, they
get on well, quarreling only half the time, and con-
sent to live in the same house. China overlooks
the intrusion.
But as to the nature of China, this is what hap-
pened recently. China's mistress had undertaken
to raise some radishes, in advance of the season,
in a box in her conservatory. It was a slow proc-
ess, owing to lack of heat or lack of disposition in
the radishes to grow. They came up, shot up,
grew slender, tall and pale. Occasionally the mis-
tress would pull up one to see why the bottoms
did n't grow, so that we could eat them; but she
never discovered why. The plants spindled up, all
top and no radish; and by and by they got tired
and laid down to rest. They might in time come
to something. In fact, they began to look as if
they were thickening in the stem and going to
grow in the root. One morning they were gone.
Gone, after weeks of patient watching, watering,
and anxious expectation Nibbled off close to the
ground. China had eaten every one of them short.
Now, does n't that show that China is a rabbit?
Will a cat eat radish tops? This is one thing I
want to know.
There came once to our house a facetious person;
that is, a person who makes jokes likely to hurt
your feelings; and he looked at the cat, and said
it did n't matter if it had no tail, that I could write
one for it. I have done so.
But that makes no difference. What I want to
know now from the children of ST. NICHOLAS is
this: What can I do with her ? I can neither give
her away for a cat, nor sell her for a rabbit. Do
you think it would coax a tail out of her to put her
under blue glass?


157






HALF A DOZEN HOUSEKEEPERS.


HALF A DOZEN HOUSEKEEPERS.

BY KATHARINE D. SMITH.


h l I ,-- ,, r. ,,r i

gardens Then we could keep house here forever
and take tea with Miss Mirandy every week, if she
asked us. What a good supper that was, girls !
Oh, Belle and Jo, you ought to be overcome with
remorse when you think what you might give us
to eat, if you were only energetic and ingenious !"
"You're the very essence of thanklessness!"
answered Belle, in high dudgeon. "It's just a
fiery martyrdom to cook for you, girls, you are so
ungrateful !"
My dear child, I'm sorry for my remark," said
Lilla, with sweet repentance. "It was very thought-
less in me to rouse your anger until after the next
meal. Any impertinence of ours is sure to be vis-
ited upon us in the form of oatmeal mush, or salt
fish and crackers."
Lilla Porter, if you 'want to be an angel,' it


"Stop your nonsense, Jo. You remember,
Belle, the time at school when we made a comic
pantomime of Young Lochinvar,' and acted it
before the professors?"
need I do," laughed Belle, in recollection.

"We girls took all the characters. What fun it
Belle, the time at school when we made a comic




was !"
"Well, why can't we do that again, changing
and improving it, of course? Our boys are so
clever and bright about anything of the kind, they
would be irresistibly funny. What do you think ?"
"I like the idea," answered Sadie Weld. "Uncle
Harry's large hall would be just the place for it,
and the stage is already there."
"Yes," proceeded Allie; "we can't think of
anything that would be greater fun. How shall
we cast the characters? You must be the bride,


___ ~


[JANUARY,






HALF A DOZEN HOUSEKEEPERS.


159


Belle, the fair Ellen;' you will do it better than
anybody. Jo will make up into the funniest old
lady for a mother, and the rest of us can be the
bride-maidens. Hugh Pennell will be a glorious
Young Lochinvar, if he can be persuaded to run
away with Belle."
Yes," said Edith, and poor Jack will have to
be the craven bridegroom' who loses his bride, and
Geoff, the 'stern parentt."
"Uncle Harry will read the poem, I know,"
continued Belle; Phil Howard, Royal Lawrence
and Harry will be bride-men. We '11 perform the
piece in such a tragic way that each separate hair
in the audience shall stand erect."
"But, oh the work, girls!" sighed Sadie,-
"wooden horses to be made for the elopement
scene, Scottish dresses, and all sorts of toggery
to be hunted up; can we ever do it?"
"Nonsense; of course we can," rejoined Belle,
energetically. We can consult every book on
private theatricals, Scottish history, manners and
costumes in the house. Let us get up at five to-
morrow morning, have a simple breakfast of-- "
"Mush and milk," finished Lilla, with grim
sarcasm. "If time must be saved, of course it
must come out of the cooking! How are we to do all
this amount of work on a low diet I'd like to know ?"
How are the cooks to get time for anything
outside the kitchen if they humor your unnatural
appetite ? Out of kindness, we are going to lower
you gradually, meal by meal, into the pit of board-
ing-school fare."
"' Sufficient unto the day is the evil thereof.' I
don't care to be starved beforehand by way of get-
ting used to it," retorted Lilla, as she lighted the
bedroom candles. Come, girls, do put out the
fire; it was sleepy-time an hour ago, and if you
want to see something beautiful, look out through
this piazza window."
Beneath them lay the steep river-bank, smooth
with its white glittering crust, above which a few
naked alders pushed their snow-weighted finger-
tips; one rugged old pine-tree in the garden,
standing grand, solemn and fearless; the quiet
river, turned by King Winter into an icy mirror;
the fall below, over which the waters tumbled too
furiously to be frozen; the old bridge knitting
together the two little villages; and over all the
dazzling winter moonlight.
Six dreamy faces now at the cottage-window.
Six girlish figures, all drawn closely together, with
arms lovingly clasped. The beautiful, solemn
stillness of the picture hushed them into quietness,
and Belle impulsively bent her brown head down
to the window-sill, and whispered softly:
Dear Lord, make us pure and white within as
thy world is without."


"Pull down the curtain," sighed Jo; "it makes
me feel wicked "
CHAPTER VII.
ON the next morning, and indeed on all those
left of their stay, the six housekeepers were up at
an alarmingly early hour, so that the sun, accus-
tomed to being the earliest of all risers, felt himself
quite behindhand and outshone.
In vain he clambered up over the hill-side in a
desperate hurry; they were always before him with
lighted candles. As for the clock, it held up its
hands in astonishment, and struck five shrill ex-
clamation points of surprise
to see six wide-awake girls 1 /
turribl. i .. 1 r .. i' i
nesr: i .l.h .:,m -. I -

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day' I : : thiri-[, .cr r. In.;- I
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'Zr






_il
U IIl


THE BOOKS THEY CONSULTED.
ful evening of "Young Lochinvar," the guests
gathered from all the surrounding country to see






HALF A DOZEN HOUSEKEEPERS.


the frolic. There were people from North X,
South X, East X, and West X, from X Upper
Corner, X Lower Corner, and X Four Corners,
and everybody had brought his uncle and cousins.
In the big dressing-room, the young actors were
assembled,-in a high state of exuberance and
excitement, fortunately, else they would have been
decidedly frightened at the ordeal. Jo was trying
to make herself look seventy; and, though not
succeeding, transformed herself into a very present-
able Scottish dame, with her short satin gown and
apron, lace kerchief and glasses. Edith was giving
one pointed burnt-cork eyebrow to Hugh, that
he might wear a sufficiently dashing and defiant
expression for Lochinvar. Jack was before the
mirror practicing his meek expression for the
jilted bridegroom.
Belle had sunk into a chair, and folded her hands
to get up her courage. As to her dress, nobody
knew whether it was the proper one for a Scottish
bride or not; but it was the only available thing,
and certainly she looked in it a very bewitching
and sufficient excuse for Lochinvar's rash folly. It
was of some shining white material, and came
below the ankle, just showing a pair of jaunty
high-heeled slippers; the skirt was broidered and
flounced to the belt, the waist simple and full, with
short puffed sleeves ; while a bridal veil and dainty
crown of flowers made her as winsome and bonny
as a white Scottish rose.
Uncle Harry stumbled in at the low door.
"Are you ready, young fry ?" asked he; it is
half-past seven, and we ought to begin."
"Put out the foot-lights; give the people back
their money, and tell them the prima donna is
dangerously ill!" gasped Belle, faintly, fanning
herself excitedly with a box-cover. "I don't be-
lieve I can ever do it. Hugh, are you perfectly
sure our horse wont break down on the stage when
we elope ?"
"Calm yourself, 'fair Ellen,' and trust to my
horsemanship. Doesn't the poem say:

'In all the wide border, his steed was the best;'

and does n't this exactly embody Scott's idea ? "-
pointing to a very wild and cross-eyed looking
wooden effigy mounted on a pair of trucks.

Have you ever read Sir Walter Scott's poem
of Young Lochinvar ?" I hope so, for they are
brave old verses, albeit the moral may not be
the best for nineteenth-century boys and girls.
It begins:

"0 young Lochinvar is come out of the West;
In all the wide border, his steed was the best;


And, save his good broadsword, he weapon had none;
He rode all unarmed, and he rode all alone.
So faithful in love, and so dauntless in war,
There never was knight like the young Lochinvar."

And then it goes on to say that he rode fast and
far, staid not for brakes, stopped not for stones, but
all in vain; for ere he alighted at Netherby Gate,
the fair Ellen, overcome by parental authority, had
consented to be married,

"For a laggard in love, and a dastard in war,
Was to wed the fair Ellen of brave Lochinvar."

But he, nothing daunted, boldly entered the bridal
hall among bride-men and bride-maids and kins-
men, thereby raising so general a commotion that
the bride's father cried at once (the poor craven
bridegroom being struck quite dumb):

Oh come ye in peace here, or come ye in war,
Or to dance at our bridal, young Lord Lochinvar?'"

The lover answers with great indifference that
though he has in past time been exceeding fond
of the young person called Ellen, he has now
merely come to tread a measure and drink one cup
of wine, for although love swells like the tide, it
ebbs like it also. So he drinks her health while
she sighs and blushes, weeps and smiles alternately;
then he takes her "soft hand," her parents fretting
and fuming the while, and leads the dance with
her,-he so stately, she so lovely, that they are the
subject of much envy and gossip. But while thus
treading the measure, he whispers in her ear some-
thing to which she apparently consents, without any
unwillingness, and at the right moment they dance'
out by the back door, where the charger stands
ready saddled. Quick as thought he swings her
lightly up, springs before her, and they dash
furiously away.
"'She is won! We are gone, over bank, bush and scaur;
They 'll have fleet steeds that follow,' quoth young Lochinvar."

As soon as their flight is discovered, there is wild
excitement and hasty mounting of all the Netherby
clan; there is racing and chasing over the fields,
but they never recover the lost bride.

"So daring in love, and so dauntless in war,
Have ye e'er heard of gallant like young Lochinvar?"

Uncle Harry read the poem through in such a
stirring way that the audience were fairly warmed
into interest; then, standing by the side of the
stage with the curtain rolled up, he read it again,
line by line, or verse by verse, to explain the action.
During the first stanza, Lochinvar made his tri-
umphal entrance, riding a prancing hobby with a


16o


[JANUARY,






379.] HALF A DOZEN HOUSEKEEPERS. i6I


sweeping tail of raveled rope, and a mane to match;
gorgeous trappings, adorned with sleigh-bells and
ornamental paper designs, and bunches of cotton
tacked on for flecks of foam.
Lochinvar himself wore gray pasteboard armor,
a pair of carpet slippers with ferocious spurs, red
mittens;-and he carried a huge carving-knife. His
costume alone was enough to convulse any one,
but the manner in which he careered wildly about
the stage, displaying his valorous horsemanship as


room on his arm, while the bridegroom looks on
wretchedly, the parents quarrel, and the bride-
maidens whisper:
"'T were better by far
To have matched our fair cousin with young Lochinvar."
At the first opportunity, the guests walk leisurely
out, and young Lochinvar gets an imaginary chance
to draw Ellen hastily back into the supper-room.
He whispers the magic word into her ear, she starts
in horror and draws back; he urges; she demurs;


BEFORE THE PLAY.


he rode to the wedding, was perfectly irresistible,
The next scene opens in Netherby Hall, showing
the bridal party all assembled in gala dress. Into
this family gathering presently strides the deter-
mined lover, with his carving-knife sheathed for
politeness' sake. Then follows a comical panto-
mime between the angry parents, who demand his
intentions, and the adroit Lochinvar, who declares
them to be peaceful. The father (Geoffrey Strong)
at last gives unwilling permission to drink one cup
of wine and lead one measure with the bride. She
kisses the goblet (a quart dipper), he quaffs off the
liquor and throws down the cup. Fair Ellen
giggles with pleasure, and promenades about the
VoL. VI.-12.


he pleads; she shows signs of surrender; he begs
on his bended knees; she yields at length, with a
broad grin, to the plan of the elopement. Then
he darts to the outside door and brings in his
charger (rather a unique proceeding, but neces-
sary under the circumstances). As the flight was
to be made on horseback, much ingenuity and
labor was needed to arrange it artistically. The
horse's head was the work of Geoff's hand, and
for meekness of expression, jadedness, utterly-
cast-down-and-worn-out-ed-ness, it stood absolutely
unrivaled. A pair of trucks were secreted beneath
the horse-blankets, and the front legs of the animal
pranced gayly out in front, taking that startling





162 HALF A DOZEN HOUSEKEEPERS.


and decided curve only seen in pictures of mowing-
machines and horse-trots. Lochinvar quiets his
fiery beast and swings Ellen up to the saddle, himself
jumps up, waves his tall hat in triumph, and starts
off at a snail's pace, the horse being dragged by a
rope from behind the scenes. When half-way
across the stage, Ellen nudges her lover hastily
and seems to have forgotten something. Every-
body in the room at once guesses it must be her
baggage. She explains earnestly in pantomime;
Lochinvar refuses to go back; she insists; he
remains firm; she pouts and seemingly says she
wont elope at all unless she can have her own way.
He relents, and they go back to the house; Ellen
runs up a back stair-way and comes down laden'
with maidenly traps. Greatly to the merriment
of the observers, she loads them on the docile
horse, in the face of Lochinvar's displeasure-two
small looking-glasses, a bird-cage, and a French
bonnet. She then leisurely draws on a pair of
huge India-rubbers, unfurls a yellow linen umbrella,
and suffers herself to be remounted just as her
lover's patience is ebbing. The second trip across
the stage was accomplished in safety, though with
anything but the fleetness common to elopements.
Then came the pursuit. Four bride-men on
slashing hobby-horses, jumping fences, leaping
bars and ditches in hot excitement; four bride-
maids, with handkerchiefs tied over their heads,.
running hither and thither in confusion; the
old mother and father, limping in and strain--
ing their eyes for a sight of their refractory
daughter; and last of all, poor Jack, the deserted
bridegroom, with never a horse left to him,
puffing and panting in his angry chase. It was
done How people laughed till they cried, how
they continued to laugh for five minutes after-


ward I cannot begin to tell
-- \ you. It had been the perfection
of fun from first to last,
;-.---: and seemed all the fun-
<. nier because it was orqgi-
nal with the bright b6vy
of young folks. The
; lights at length were
": :. all out and the finery
*..-i .bundled up, many faie-
wells were said, and ps

garden for the last tima,
Sthe sorry thoughts would
come, although the party
was much too youthful
D and cheery to be very i:.
Depart, fun and frolic !" sighedLillA,
in a very mournful tone. "Depart, late
breakfasts and other delights of lazines !
Enter, boarding-school, books, bells and other
banes of existence !"
"I am as savage as a-a hydrant or any other
monster," snapped Jo. "Now I know how Ee
must have felt when she had to pack up and leaV
the garden; only she went because she insisted
upon eating of the tree of knowledge, while I mu t
go and eat whether I will or not."
Your appetite is n't so great that you'll e r
be troubled with indigestion," dryly rejoined Sad
the student of the six."
"Fancy starting off at eight to-morrow mor
ing; fancy reaching school at noon, and sitti
stupidly down to a dinner of fried liver ad
cracker-pudding Ugh! it makes me shiver
said Allie.
"Think of us," cried Geoff, "going back o
college, and settling into regular digs '"
"No slang !"scolded Edith, saucily. "If'digs'
is a contraction of dignitaries, you'll c: .in
never be those; if you mean you are to delve into
the mines of learning, that's doubtful, too; but if
it's a corruption of Dig-ger Indian, I should s~y
there might be some force in your remark."
Hugh, I was really proud of you t. .-nl-r."
laughed Belle. You made yourself very nearly
as ridiculous and foolish as I made myself."
It was afternoon of the next day. The six little
housekeepers were gone, and the dejected bos
went into the garden to take a last look at tl e
- empty cottage. On the door was a long piece f
fluttering white paper, tied with black crape.
proved to be the parting words of the Jolly Six.

How dear to our hearts are the scenes of vacation,
When fond recollection presents them to view .
The coasting, the sleigh-rides, and-chief recreation-
That gayest of picnics with squires so true.


[JANUARY,







1879.] CHRISTMAS BELLS. 163


And now, torn away from the loved situation,
The bump of conceit will explosively swell,
As proudly we think, never since the creation,
Did any young housekeepers keep house so well!

But though our great genius so highly we've rated,
Yet all that belongs to the kitchen, we know;
And feel that from infancy we have been fated
For scrubbing and cooking far more than for show.

The cook-stove and dish-pan to us are so charming,
So toothsome the compounds we often have mixed,
That though you may think the news very alarming,
On housekeeping ever our minds are all fixed."

This nonsense the boys read with hearty laugh-
ter, and latching the gate behind them, they went
off, leaving the place verily deserted.
The setting sun shone rosily in at the piazza win-
dow, but fell blankly against a gray curtain, instead
of smiling into six laughing faces as before.
A noisy crowd of sparrows settled on the bare
branches over the door-step, and twittered as if
expecting the supper of bread-crumbs which girlish
hands had been wont to throw them, and at last flew
away disappointed. In the old house opposite,
Miss Mirandy sat in her high-backed chair knitting
as fiercely as ever, while Miss Jane was at her post
by the window, drearily watching the sun go down.


She turned away with the glow of a new thought
in her wrinkled face. Mirandy! called she,
sharply.
No answer but the sharp click of knitting-needles.
Mirandy Sawyer! What do you say to-
adopting-of-a child "
Miss Jane never sugared her pills, hut cast them
uncoated into the wide-open mouths of listeners.
It seems like a streak of sunshine had gone
out the place with them young creeturs, and I
think we've lived here alone long enough I
should like to give one girl a chance of being a
brighter, livelier woman than I be. Yes, you may
drop your knitting, Mirandy, but you know it as
well as I do !"
No wonder that Miss Sawyer looked very much
as if she had been struck by lightning; the more
wonder that the quiet old house did n't shake to its
foundation, when this proposal was made. Indeed,
old Tabby on the hearth-rug did wake up, startled,
no doubt, by the consciousness that a child's hand
might pull her tail in future days.
So, happiness, after all, is of some good in the
world, since half a dozen happy younghousekeepers
showed two unhappy old ones the need of love and
cheerfulness to brighten their lives.
END.


CHRISTMAS BELLS.







THE OLD STONE BASIN.




THE OLD STONE BASIN.

BY SUSAN COOLIDGE.


IN the heart of the busy city,
In the scorching noon-tide heat,
A sound of bubbling water
Falls on the din of the street.

It falls in a gray stone basin,
And over the cool wet brink
The heads of thirsty horses
Each moment are stretched to drink.

And peeping between the crowding heads
As the horses come and go,
"The Gift of Three Little Sisters"
Is read on the stone below.

Ah, beasts are not taught letters,
They know no alphabet;
And never a horse in all these years
Has read the words, and yet


I think that each toil-worn creature
Who stops to drink by the way,
His thanks in his own dumb fashion,
To the sisters small must pay.

Years have gone by since busy hands
Wrought at the basin's stone;
The kindly little sisters
Are all to women grown.

I do not know their home or fates
Or the name they bear to men,
But the sweetness of their gracious deed
Is just as fresh as then.

And all life long, and after life,
They must the happier be,
For this Cup of Water" given by them
When they were children three.


[JANUARY,


_ _~I__
~___







1879.1 SOME MALAYAN DANCES. 105


SOME MALAYAN DANCES.

BY FANNIE ROPER FEUDGE.


WHILE on: a cruise among the islands of the Ma-
layan Archipelago, our ship put in at Batavia for a
week's repairs. Batavia is the Dutch capital of Java,
wholly under the control of Holland; and its
Dutch architecture, and Dutch manners of living,
make one feel as if every house had been built
in far-away Amsterdam, then boxed up, people,
furniture, and all, and sent by ship across the
waters. So, to know anything of the natives to
whom this great, beautiful island originally belonged,
of their habits, dress, and amusements, one must
visit the Malayan settlements of the interior; and


a little party of us determined thus to spend the
week of our ship's stay at Batavia.
We had made the acquaintance of a petty
chieftain, who once had been in the service of the
Rajah of Djokjskarta; and for a small fee, Selim
volunteered to escort our party to the court of his
former master, and if possible, to procure us admit-
tance to the royal presence. Selim we found to
be evidently a favorite with the Rajah, or Sultan,
as he is called by his own subjects; and we were
received with more favor than we had ventured to
hope for, by this very exclusive Malayan prince,






SOME MALAYAN DANCES.


who usually declines the interchange of all civili-
ties with foreigners-strangers especially. But
thanks to Selim's kindness, the Rajah not only gave
us a cordial welcome to his palace, but also invited
us to dine, and after a sumptuous repast of Malayan
dainties served in Malayan style, he called in, for
our entertainment, his favorite bands of singing
and dancing girls. The dancers came first. They
were lovely, graceful little creatures, hardly beyond
their childhood, with bright faces, and pretty,
girlish motions; and they glided into the room, each
playing on a timbrel or a lute.
Every one of the dancers was crowned with
natural flowers, and each wore, in addition, a
massive wreath, that was passed over the left
shoulder, and under the right arm, extending far
down below the knees. These wreaths, we soon
learned, were not designed merely or mainly for
ornament. They were very compactly formed of
evergreens and the tiny buds of fragrant flowers,
such as would not fall to pieces readily ; and each
danseuse used her wreath very much as little girls
sometimes use a hoop, in such games as "thread-
the-needle," and "running the gauntlet." In
truth, one of these Malayan dances was almost
identical with the latter game, as I used to play it
in my school-days-with only the difference that
these orientals used their flower-wreaths to jump
through, instead of the less graceful hoop. And
let me tell you, it was a pretty sight to watch a
dozen of these bright-eyed Malayan girls in their
flower-crowns and short, picturesque dresses, chasing
one another through a whole line of wreathed arches
that were held in place, each by a holder on either
side, the flying leapers clearing each wreath at a
bound, without the pause of a second.
In one of the dances, the girls twirled rapidly
around in a circle, the wreaths were thrown from one
neck to another, in a twinkling, and so completely
in accord were the movements, that there was
seldom a neck carrying either two or none. The
entertainment closed by the entire company, with
hand joined in hand, dancing in a graceful ring
around the Sultan; and each, as she came vis-a-vis
with the great man, laid her wreath and crown,
with a profound salaam, at his feet, and again
joined her companions. Then all passed out,
leaving behind two huge pyramids of lovely natural
flowers, that loaded the air with fragrance.
At Bandony we attended a gammelang, a sort
of half-play and half-concert, of which high-bred
Malays are very fond; but in which the lower
class never indulge. There were about three
hundred instruments, timbrels, cymbals, drums,
violins, triangles, tom-toms, horns, and flutes;
and the deafening din produced by the combina-
tion, I cannot begin to describe. The very thought


of it caused my ears to tingle for a week after-
ward; but the natives said the music was excellent,
and I suppose it was, if only there had been less
of it. For the Malays are the most musical people
of the East, and I have heard them sing songs of
wonderful sweetness.
Some girls and boys acted a comical little farce
just after the noisy music I have described; and
the pretty, girlish performers were very fancifully
dressed. But I thought the game scarcely a fair
one. For each dainty damsel would single out one
of her boy admirers, and invite his approach by
offering him a flower, or holding out her hand
toward him, and then, the moment he came within
arm's length, she would throw a bon-bon in his
face, and retreat behind her companions, who all
joined her in laughing merrily at the youth's
discomfiture. The last we saw of them the whole
group were dancing gayly beneath a live palm-tree,
and the next moment, tree, maidens and all disap-
peared, none of us knew how or where. At least, I
did not. The natives, however, who are used to
such wonderful feats, took the disappearance very
coolly; but our unaccustomed eyes gazed with
untold wonder at the vacant space, where, but a
moment before, we had seen growing, in tropic
luxuriance, this mammoth tree, loaded with leaves,
fruits, and flowers.
At a later day we had an opportunity of witness-
ing the "sword-dance" of the Malays, the most
noted of all their national dances. Ordinarily, it is
performed by some thirty or forty ten-year-old ladt,
who are trained to their vocation from a very early
age; but who practice it in public only for a year
or so, before they are set aside as no longer suffi-
ciently light and agile for this very peculiar dance.
The boys are rigged out in very fantastic costume,
their hats especially, which are fancifully adorned
with the plumage of many-colored birds, inter-
mingled with brightly gleaming jewels. The only
weapons used are wooden swords; but the youthful
gymnasts seem thoroughly in earnest, and rush upon
one another with all the fury of real combatants,
their eyes gleaming fiercely, and their dark faces
glowing with excitement. They all brandish their
swords with great dexterity, dealing blows sidewise,
and even backward, while they are in the very act
of whizzing and whirling round the room in a rapid
gallopade. Their motions are not less graceful
than enthusiastic; and though the company is
numerous, and the turns and thrusts are sudden,
none seem taken unawares; nor is there even the
slightest apparent confusion. Sometimes single
combats follow the general engagement, each
selecting -his own opponent; but the boys are so
well matched in regard to size, and all are so per-
fectly trained, that really there seems little advan-


JANUARY,






THE KING'S CHURCH.


tage to be gained. The grand climax of the whole
affair is to force two of their leaders into a corner,
surround them with a circle of crossed swords, and
hold them prisoners until one or the other succeeds
in gaining possession of his opponent's weapon.
The victor then receives as a prize a real sword,
and is thenceforth honorably discharged from fur-
ther trials of his skill; while the unfortunate lad
who permitted himself to be disarmed, has to go
through an additional season of probation.
The ordinary dress of the lower class of Malays
is very simple, consisting for the most part of a
long, loose sarong," or petticoat, in place of
trousers, and a tight-fitting jacket of white or red
cotton; but the garb of the princes is very gorgeous.


The rajahs wore sarongs ot heavy silk, jackets of
velvet richly embroidered in gold and tiny seed-
pearls, and jeweled girdles that seemed all ablaze
with diamonds. Both turbans and sandals were
adorned in the same costly fashion; and as for the
creese or serpentine dagger, without which a Malay,
whatever his rank, never appears, those of the
rajahs were marvels of costly workmanship. The
display of wealth in the palaces of these native
chiefs was far beyond what we expected to find;
but we learned afterward that Malayan sultans"
are pirate chiefs as well; and though they don't,
in person, rob or murder on the high seas, they
derive enormous revenues from the piratical hordes
that everywhere infest the Malay Archipelago.


THE KING'S CHURCH.

A SWEDISH LEGEND.


HERE was once a king,
Swho, to the honor and
glory of God, erected a
magnificent cathedral,
and, by his express
order, no one was al-
S' lowed to contribute to
-'. it even a shilling, for
he wished to complete
1 it all alone at his own
expense. So it was
-. done, andbeautifuland
S grand stood the cath-
edralin allits pomp and
--- splendor. Then the
king caused to be put
.-- up a great marble tab-
let, on which he had
carved, with letters of gold, an inscription, announc-
ing that he, the king, had built the church, and
that no one else had contributed thereto a single
shilling. But when the tablet had remained up
one day and one. night, the inscription was altered
in the night, and in place of the king's name was
another, and it was the name of a poor woman, so
that now it stood written that she had built the
splendid cathedral.
This enraged the king to the highest degree, and
he immediately had her name erased and his own
inscribed again. But the next day the poor
woman's name was again found upon the tablet,
and again the people read that she had built the
temple. For the third time the king's name was


replaced in the inscription, and for the third time
it vanished, and the other appeared in its stead.
Then the king perceived that it was the finger of
God which had written, and he sent for the woman
and brought her before his throne. Full of anguish
and terror, she stood in the presence of the king,
who addressed her thus:
Woman, a wonderful thing has occurred. Now,
before God, and to save thy life, tell me the truth.
Didst thou not hear my command that no one
should contribute anything to the cathedral? Hast
thou, notwithstanding, given somewhat ?"
Then the woman fell humbly at the king's feet
and said :
"Mercy my lord, the king I Under thy favor
will I acknowledge all. I am avery poor woman, and
earn my bit of bread by spinning, so that I need
not die of hunger, and, having saved up a shilling,
I wished, for God's honor, to give it to the building
of thy temple. But, 0 king! I feared thy ordi-
nance and thy stern threatening, and therefore I
bought with my shilling a bundle of hay and
strewed it before the oxen that dragged the stone
for thy church, and they ate it. So I sought
to fulfill my wish without transgressing thy com-
mand."
When the king heard the woman's words, he
was much moved, and perceived that God had
looked into her good heart, and accepted her offer-
ing as a richer contribution than all he had lavished
upon the costly temple. The monarch then
bestowed rich gifts upon the woman, and meekly
accepted the rebuke that God had given him.






JANUARY,


" rM fan ( in itz 1in li titln, a n an Teartj pac, V/ .i
gatr ibnl toiranib mm." /


"And all the angels in heaven shall sing -.
On Christmas Day, ,
on Christmas Day
And all the angels in heaven shall sing
On ChristmasDay
'i . morningg -


-,,!l'- ',' W hen Christi
S -- i ''The whole w<
The very c
SKneel whe
S" And all
W .' ith lus
Tnn0
." '" ^" 'A"^' "" '. "' ...,,

4- -
'CI

.






---_.1 J, .I 'a .i ;: .. I.
"""


love!
r.I h r.- r, :., i.i within,
i'l'i- ,_liri-'u:,- ii,.-.11, Lr:-rin :


. .;V
- .- .- -" -, .


-, ----.-.
r I






nas morning comes, they say,
world knows it's Christmas Day;
attle in the stalls
n the blessed midnight falls.
the night the heavens shine,
ter of a light divine.
ere the dawn the children leap
" Merry Christmas in their sleep;
d dream about the Christmas-tree;
rise, their stockings filled to see.
Swift come the hours of joy and cheer,
Of loving friend and kindred dear;
Of gifts and bounties in the air,
Sped by the Merry Christmas !"
prayer.
While through it all, so sweet and
strong,
heard the holy angels' song;
y be to God above!
i.. ': ..- h. r I

7, -,


"Waken, Christian children,
Ufp and let us sing,
With glad voice the praises
Of our new-born King.

"Come, nor fear to seek .
Him,
Children though we be,; 'd
Once He said of children,
'Let them come to me.' r'

"Haste we then to welcome,
With a joyous lay,
Christ, the king of glory,
Born for us to-day."


- -i" ._.

i


01)rmritmn 03ap,







BEHIND THE WHITE BRICK.



BEHIND THE WHITE BRICK.

BY FRANCES HODGSON BURNETT.


IT began with Aunt Hetty's being out of temper,
which, it must be confessed, was nothing new.
At its best, Aunt Hetty's temper was none of the
most charming, and this morning it was at its
worst. She had awakened to the consciousness of
having a hard day's work before her, and she had
awakened late, and so every thing had gone wrong
from the first. There was a sharp ring in her voice
when she came to Jem's bedroom-door and called
out, "Jemima Get up this minute !"
Jem knew what to expect when Aunt Hetty
began a day by calling her "Jemima." It was
one of the poor child's grievances that she had
been given such an ugly name. In all the books she
had read, and she had read a great many, Jem
never had met a heroine who was called Jemima.
But it had been her mother's favorite sister's name,
and so it had fallen to her lot. Her mother always
called her "Jem," or Mimi," which was much
prettier, and even Aunt Hetty only reserved Jemima
for unpleasant state occasions.
It was a dreadful day to Jem. Her mother was
not at home and would not be until night. She
had been called away unexpectedly and had been
obliged to leave Jem and the baby to Aunt Hetty's
mercies.
So Jem found herself busy enough. Scarcely
had she finished doing one thing when Aunt Hetty
told her to begin another. She wiped dishes and
picked fruit and attended to the baby, and when
baby had gone to sleep, and everything else seemed
disposed of, for a time at least, she was so tired
that she was glad to sit down.
And then she thought of the book she had been
reading the night before,-a certain delightful story-
book, about a little girl whose name was Flora,
and who was so happy and rich and pretty and
good that Jem had likened her to the little prin-
cesses one reads about, to whose christening feast
every fairy brings a gift.
I shall have time to finish my chapter before
dinner-time comes," said Jem, and she sat down
snugly in one corner of the wide old-fashioned
fire-place.
But she had not read more than two pages
before something dreadful happened. Aunt Hetty
came into the room in a great hurry,-in such a
hurry, indeed, that she caught her foot in the
matting and fell, striking her elbow sharply against
chair, which so upset her temper that the moment
she found herself on her feet she flew at Jem.


What !" she said, snatching the book from her,
" Reading again, when I am running all over the
house for you?" And she flung the pretty little
blue-covered volume into the fire.
Jem sprang to rescue it with a cry, but it was
impossible to reach it, it had fallen into a great
hollow of red coal and the blaze caught it at once.
"You are a wicked woman cried Jem, in a
dreadful passion, to Aunt Hetty. You are a
wicked woman."
Then matters reached a climax. Aunt Hetty
boxed her ears, pushed her back on her little foot-
stool, and walked out of the room.
Jem hid her face on her arms and cried as if
her heart would break. She cried until her eyes
were heavy, and she thought she should be obliged
to gotosleep. Butjustasshe .- i:;i of going
to sleep, something fell down the chimney and
made her look up. It was a piece of mortar, and
it brought a great deal of soot with it. She bent
forward and looked up to see where it had come from.
The chimney was so very wide that this was easy
enough. She could see where the mortar had
fallen from the side and left a white patch.
How white it looks against the black!" said
Jem. It is like a white brick among the black
ones. What a queer place a chimney is! I can
see a bit of the blue sky, I think."
And then a funny thought came into her fanciful
little head. What a many things were burned in
the big fire place, and vanished in smoke or
tinder up the chimney! Where did everything
go? There was Flora, for instance,-Flora who
was represented on the frontispiece,-with lovely,
soft flowing hair, and a little fringe on her pretty
round forehead, crowned with a circlet of daisies,
and a laugh in her wide-awake round eyes. Where
was she by this time ? Certainly there was nothing
left of her in the fire. Jem almost began to cry
again at the thought.
It was too bad," she said. She was so pretty
and funny, and I did like her so!"
I dare say it scarcely will be credited by unbe-
lieving people when I tell them what happened
next, it was such a very singular thing, indeed.
Jem felt herself gradually lifted off her little
foot-stool.
Oh !" she said, timidly. I feel very light."
She did feel light indeed. She felt so light that
she was sure she was rising gently in the air.
"Oh !" she said, again. "How-how very







BEHIND THE WHITE BRICK.


light I feel! Oh, dear! I'm going up the chim-
ney !"
It was rather strange that she never thought
of calling for help, but she did not. She was not
easily frightened; and now she was only wonderfully
astonished, as she remembered afterward. She
shut her eyes tight and gave a little gasp.
I've heard Aunt Hetty talk about the draught
drawing things up the chimney, but I never knew
it was as strong as this," she said.
She went up, up, up, quietly and steadily, and
without any uncomfortable feeling at all; and then
all at once she stopped, feeling that her feet rested
against something solid. She opened her eyes
and looked about her, and there she was, standing
right opposite the white brick, her feet on a tiny
ledge.
Well," she said, "this is funny."
But the next thing that happened was funnier
still. She found, that without thinking what she
was doing, she was knocking on the white brick
with her knuckles, as if it was a door, and she
expected somebody to open it. The next minute
she heard footsteps, and then a sound as if some
one was drawing back a little bolt.
"It is a door," said Jem, "and somebody is
going to open it."
The white brick moved a little, and some more
mortar and soot fell, then the brick moved a little
more, and then it slid aside and left an open space.
"It's a room!" cried Jem. There 's a room
behind it."
And so there was, and before the open space
stood a pretty little girl, with long lovely hair, and
a fringe on her forehead Jem clasped her hands
in amazement. It was Flora, herself, as she looked
in the picture, and Flora stood laughing and
nodding.
"Come in !" she said. I thought it was you."
"But how can I come in through such a little
place?" asked Jem.
Oh, that is easy enough," said Flora. Here,
give me your hand."
Jem did as she told her, and found that it was
easy enough. In an instant she had passed through
the opening, the white brick had gone back to its
place, and she was standing by Flora's side in a
large room-the nicest room she had ever seen.
It was big and lofty and light, and there were all
kinds of delightful things in it,-books, and flowers,
and playthings, and pictures, and in one corner a
great cage full of love-birds.
Have I ever seen it before ? asked Jem, glanc-
ing slowly round.
"Yes," said Flora, "You saw it last night-in
your mind. Don't you remember it? "
Jem shook her head.


"I feel as if I did, but --"
"Why," said Flora, laughing, it's my room,
the one you read about last night."
So it is," said Jem. But how did you come
here? "
I can't tell you that; I myself don't know, but
I am here, and so," rather mysteriously, "are a
great many other things."


*k Cjr-L~.

* At.
S


:4'


* 1


* I


~I


FLORA.
F-
"Are they?" said Jem, very mu.. -
interested. "What things? Buiicd
things? I was just wondering -- "
Not only burned things," said Flora, nodding.
" Just come with me and I '11 show you some-
thing."
She led the way out of the room and down a
little passage with several doors in each side of it,
and she opened one door and showed Jem what
was on the other side of it. That was a room, too,
and this time it was funny as well as pretty. Both
floor and walls were padded with rose color, and
the floor was strewn with toys. There were big
soft balls, rattles, horses, woolly dogs, and a doll
or so; there was one low cushioned chair, and a
low table.
You can come in," said a shrill little voice
behind the door. Only mind you don't tread on
things."
"What a funny little voice!" said Jem, but
she had no sooner said it than she jumped back.
The owner of the voice who had just come for-
ward was no other than Baby.
"Why," exclaimed Jem, beginning to feel
frightened, I left you fast asleep in your crib."
"Did you?" said Baby, somewhat scornfully.


[JANUARY,


'






BEHIND THE WHITE BRICK.


" That's just the way with yuu grown-up people.
You think you know everything, and yet you have
n't discretion enough to know when a pin is sticking
into one. You 'd know soon enough if you had
one sticking into your own back."
"But I 'm not grown up," stammered Jem,
"and when you are at home you can neither walk
nor talk: you 're not six months old "
Well, Miss," retorted Baby, whose wrongs
seemed to have soured her disposition somewhat,
"you have no need to throw that in my teeth;
you were not six months old, either, when you were
my age."
Jem could not help laughing.
You have n't got any teeth she said.
Have n't I ? said Baby, and she displayed two
beautiful rows with some haughtiness of manner.
When I am up here," she said, I am supplied
with the modern conveniences, and that's why I
never complain. Do I ever cry when I am asleep ?
It 's not falling asleep I object to, it 's falling
awake."
"Wait a minute," said Jem. "Are you asleep
now ? "
"I 'm what you call asleep. I can only come
here when I 'm what you call asleep. Asleep,
indeed It's no wonder we always cry when we
have to fall awake."
But we don't mean to be unkind to you," pro-
tested Jem, meekly.
She could not help thinking Baby was very severe.
Don't mean said Baby. Well, why don't
you think more, then? I-low would you like to
have all the nice things snatched away from you,
and all the old rubbish packed off on you as if you
had n't any sense? How would you like to have
to sit and stare at things you wanted, and not be
able to reach them, or if you did reach them, have
them fall out of your hand, and roll away in the
most unfeeling manner ? And then be scolded and
called 'cross!' It 's no wonder we are bald.
You 'd be bald yourself. It's trouble and worry
that keep us bald until we can begin to take care
of ourselves. I had more hair than this at first,
but it fell off, as well it might. No philosopher
ever thought of that, I suppose "
"Well," said Jem, in despair, "I hope you
enjoy yourself when you are here ? "
Yes, I do," answered Baby. "That's one com-
fort. There is nothing to knock my head against,
and things have patent stoppers on them, so that
they can't roll away, and everything is soft and
easy to pick up."
There was a slight pause after this, and Baby
seemed to cool down.
"I suppose you would like me to show you
round," she said.


Not if you have any objection," replied Jem,
who was rather subdued.
"I would as soon do it as not," said Baby.
You are not as bad as some people, though you
do get my clothes twisted when you hold me."
Upon the whole, she seemed rather proud of her
position. It was evident she quite regarded herself
as hostess. She held her small bald head very
high indeed, as she trotted on before them. She
stopped at the first door she came to, and knocked
three times. She was obliged to stand upon tiptoe
to reach the knocker.
He's sure to be at home at this time of year,"
she remarked. This is the busy season."
Who 's he' ?" inquired Jem.
But Flora only laughed at Miss Baby's consequen-
tial air.
S. C., to be sure," was the answer, as the
young lady pointed to the door-plate, upon which
Jem noticed, for the first time, S. C." in very
large letters.
The door opened, apparently without assistance,
and they entered the apartment.
"Good gracious! exclaimed Jem, the next
minute. "Goodness gracious!"
She might well be astonished. It was such a
long room that she could not see to the end of it,
and it was piled from floor to ceiling with toys of
every description, and there was such bustle and
buzzing in it that it was quite confusing. The
bustle and buzzing arose from a very curious cause,
too,-it was the bustle and buzz of hundreds of tiny
men and women who were working at little tables no
higher than mushrooms,-the pretty tiny women
cutting out and sewing, the pretty tiny men sawing
and hammering, and all talking at once. The
principal person in the place escaped Jem's notice
at first; but it was not long before she saw him,-
a little old gentleman, with a rosy face and spark-
ling eyes, sitting at a desk, and writing in a book
almost as big as himself. He was so busy that he
was quite excited, and had been obliged to throw
his white fur coat and cap aside, and he was at work
in his red waistcoat.
"Look here, if you please," piped Baby. I
have brought some one to see you."
When he turned round, Jem recognized him
at once.
"Eh! Eh!" he said. "What! What! Who's
this, Tootsicums ? "
Baby's manner became very acid indeed.
I should n't have thought you would have said
that, Mr. Claus," she remarked. "I can't help
myself down below, but I generally have my rights
respected up here. I should like to know what
sane godfather and godmother would give one the
name of 'Tootsicums' in one's baptism. They are







BEHIND THE WHITE BRICK.


bad enough, I must say; but I never heard of any
of them calling a person 'Tootsicums'."
"Come, come !" said S. C., chuckling comfort-
ably, and rubbing his hands. "Don't be too
dignified,-it's a bad thing. And don't be too
practical and fond of taking unpractical people
down,-that's a bad thing, too. And don't be too
fond of flourishing your rights in people's faces,-
that's the worst of all, Miss Midget. Folks.who
make such a fuss about their rights turn them into
wrongs sometimes."
Then he turned suddenly to Jem.


. I ,


I-


L_--


V.

'~'~1


BIIE AND HER PET DOL.

BIRDIE AND HER PET DOLL,


"You are the little girl from down below," he
said.
"Yes, sir," answered Jem. "I'm Jem, and
this is my friend Flora,-out of the blue-book."
"I'm happy to make her acquaintance," said
S. C., "and I'm happy to make yours. You
are a nice child, though a trifle peppery. I'm very
glad to see you."
"I'm very glad indeed to see you, sir," said
Jem. I was n't quite sure -- "


But there she stopped, feeling that it would
be scarcely polite to tell him that she had begun
of late years to lose faith in him.
But S. C. only chuckled more comfortably than
ever, and rubbed his hands again.
"Ho, ho!" he said. "You know who I am,
then."
Jem hesitated a moment, wondering whether it
would not be taking a liberty to mention his name
without putting Mr." before it; then she remem-
bered what Baby had called him.
"Baby called you 'Mr. Claus,' sir," she re-
plied; "and I have seen pictures of
you."
"To be sure," said S. C. S.
Claus, Esquire, of Chimneyland. How
do you like me ?"
"Very much," answered Jem.
"Very much, indeed, sir."
."Glad of it 1 Glad of it! But
,,,: what was it you were going to say
S ,, you were not quite sure of?"
Si Jem blushed a little.
lI was not quite sure that-that
S.'':,' you were true, sir. At least I have not
been quite sure since I have been
'' older."
S. C. rubbed the bald part of his
head and gave a little sigh.
I hope 1 have not hurt your feel-
ings, sir," faltered Jem, who was a
very kind-hearted little soul.
S "Well, no," said S. C. "Not ex-
actly. And it is not your fault either.
It is natural, I suppose; at any rate,
-- it is the way of the world. People lose
their belief in a great many things as
they grow older; but that does not
make the things not true, thank good-
S ness; and their faith often comes back
after a while. But, bless me !" he
added briskly, "I'm moralizing, and
who thanks a man for doing that?
Suppose -- "
"Black eyes or blue, sir?" said a
tiny voice close to them.
Jem and Flora turned round, and
saw it was one of the small workers who was asking
the question.
"Whom for?" inquired S. C.
"Little girl in the red brick house at the corner,"
said the workwoman; "name of Birdie."
"Excuse me a moment," said S. C. to the chil-
dren, and he turned to the big book and began to
run his fingers down the pages in a business-like
manner. "Ah! here she is!" he exclaimed at
last. "Blue eyes, if you please, Thistle, and


[JANUARY,








BEHIND THE WHITE BRICK.


golden hair. And let it be a big one. She takes
good care of them."
Yes, sir," said Thistle; "I am personally






IN,-.












acquainted with several dolls in her family. I go
to parties in her dolls' house sometimes when she is
fast asleep at night, and they all speak very highly
of her. She is most attentive to them when they
are ill. In fact, her pet doll is a cripple, with a
stiff leg."
She ran back to her work, and S. C. finished his
sentence.
"Suppose I show you my establishment," he
said. "Come with me."
It really would be quite impossible to describe
the wonderful things e sd heshowedthem. Jem's head
was quite in a whirl before she had seen one-half
of them, and even Baby condescended to become
excited.
"There must be a great many children in the
world, Mr. Claus," ventured Jem.
"Yes, yes, millions of 'em; bless 'em," said S.
C., growing rosier with delight at the very thought.
" We never run out of them, that's one comfort.
There's a large and varied assortment always on
hand. Fresh ones every year, too, so that when
one grows too old there is a new one ready. I
have a place like this in every twelfth chimney.
Now it's boys, now it's girls, always one or t'other;
and there's no end of playthings for them, too,
I 'm glad to say. For girls, the great thing seems
to be dolls. Blitzen what comfort they do take in
dolls but the boys e s are for horses and racket."
They were standing near a table where a worker
was just putting the finishing touch to the dress of
a large wax doll, and just at that moment, to Jem's
surprise, she set it on the floor, upon its feet, quite
coolly.
Thank you," said the Doll, politely.
Jem quite jumped.


You can join the rest now and introduce your-
self," said the worker.
The Doll looked over her shoulder at her train.
It hangs very nicely," she said. I hope it's
the latest fashion."
"Mine never talked like that," said Flora. "My
best one could only say 'Mamma,' and it said it
very badly, too."
She was foolish for saying it at all," remarked
the Doll, haughtily. "We don't talk and walk
before ordinary people; we keep our accomplish-
ments for our own amusement, and for the amuse-
ment of our friends. If you should chance to get
up in the middle of the night, some time, or should
run into the room suddenly some day, after you
have left it, you might hear-but what is the use
of talking to human beings ?"
"You know a great deal, considering you are
only just finished," snapped Baby, who really was
a Tartar.
"I was FINISHED," retorted the Doll. "I did
not begin life as a Baby very scornfully.
Pooh! said Baby. We improve as we get
older."
"I hope so, indeed," answered the Doll.
There is plenty of room for improvement." And
she walked away in great state.
S. C. looked at Baby and then shook his head.


"THERE'S A GREAT COMFORT IN DOLLS."
"I shall not have to take very much care of
you," he said, absent-mindedly. "You are able to
take pretty good care of yourself."
I hope I am," said Baby, tossing her head.
S. C. gave his head another shake.
Don't take too good care of yourself," he said.
"That 's a bad thing, too."


1879.






BEHIND THE WHITE BRICK.


He showed them the rest of his wonders, and
then went with them to the door to bid them
good-bye.
I am sure we are very much obliged to you,
Mr. Claus," said Jem, gratefully. I shall never
again think you are not true, sir."
S. C. patted her shoulder quite affectionately.
That 's right," he said. Believe in things
just as long as you can, my dear. Good-bye, until
Christmas Eve. I shallsee you then if you don't
see me."
He must have taken quite a fancy to Jem, for he
stood looking at her, and seemed very reluctant
to close the door, and even after he had closed it,
and they had turned away, he opened it a little
again to call to her.
Believe in things as long as you can, my dear."
"How kind he is!" exclaimed Jem, full of
pleasure.
Baby shrugged her shoulders.
"Well enough in his way," she said, "but
rather inclined to prose, and be old-fashioned."
Jem looked at her, feeling rather frightened, but
she said nothing.
Baby showed very little interest in the next room
she took them to.
I don't care about this place," she said, as she
threw open the door. It has nothing but old
things in it. It is the Nobody-knows-where room."
She had scarcely finished speaking before Jem
made a little spring and picked something up.
Here's my old strawberry pin-cushion! she
cried out. And then with another jump and
another dash at two or three other things: And
here's my old fairy-book And here 's my little
locket I lost last summer! How did they come
here?"
They went Nobody-knows-where," said Baby.
And this is it."
But cannot I have them again ? asked Jem.
No," answered Baby. Things that go to
Nobody-knows-where stay there."
Oh sighed Jem, I am so sorry."
They are only old things," said Baby.
But I like my old things," said Jem. I love
them. And there is mother's needle-case. I wish
I might take that. Her dead little sister gave it to
her, and she was so sorry when she lost it."
"People ought to take better care of their
things," remarked Baby.
Jem would have liked to stay in this room and
wander about among her old favorites for a long
time, but Baby was in a hurry.
You 'd better come away," she said. "Sup-
pose I was to have to fall awake and leave you ?"
The next place they went into was the most
wonderful of all.


This is the Wish-room," said Baby. Your
wishes come here,-yours and mother's, and Aunt
Hetty's and father's and mine. When did you
wish that ?"
Each article was placed under a glass shade, and
labeled with the words and name of the wisher.
Some of them were beautiful, indeed; but the tall
shade Baby nodded at when she asked her ques-
tion was truly alarming, and caused Jem a dreadful
pang of remorse. Underneath it sat Aunt Hetty
with her mouth stitched up so that she could not
speak a word, and beneath the stand was a label
bearing these words in large black letters:
"I wish Aunt Hetty's mouth was sewed up.
Jem."
"Oh, dear!" cried Jem, in great distress.
" How it must have hurt her! How unkind of me
to say it! I wish I had n't wished it. I wish it
would come undone."
She had no sooner said it than her wish was
gratified. The old label disappeared, and a new
one showed itself, and there sat Aunt Hetty look-
ing herself again, and even smiling.
Jem was grateful beyond measure, but Baby
seemed to consider her weak-minded.
It served her right," she said.
But when, after looking at the wishes at that end
of the room, they went to the other end, her turn
came. In one corner stood a shade with a baby
under it, and the baby was Miss Baby herself, but
looking as she very rarely looked; in fact, it was the
brightest, best-tempered baby one could imagine.
I wish I had a better-tempered baby. Mother,"
was written on the label.
Baby became quite red in the face with anger
and confusion.
"That wasn't here the last time I came," she
said. And it is right down mean in mother! "
This was more than Jem could bear.
"It was n't mean," she said. "She could n't
help it. You know you are a cross baby-every-
body says so."
Baby turned two shades redder.
Mind your own business! she retorted. It
was mean; and as to that silly little thing being
better than I am," turning up her small nose,
which was quite turned up enough by Nature. I
must say I don't see anything so very grand about
her. So, there !"
She scarcely condescended to speak to them while
they remained in the Wish-room, and when they
left it, and went to the last door in the passage,
she quite scowled at it.
I don't, know whether I shall open it at all,"
she said.
"Why not?" asked Flora. "You might as
well."


[JANUARY,






BEHIND THE WHITE BRICK.


"It is the Lost-pin room," she said. I hate
pins."
She threw the door open with a bang, and then
stood and shook her little fist viciously. The
room was full of pins stacked solidly together. There
were hundreds of them,-thousands,-millions, it
seemed.
"I 'm glad they are lost! she said. I wish
there were more of them there."
"I did n't know there were so many pins in the
world," said Jem.
Pooh said Baby. Those are only the lost
ones that have belonged to our family."
After this they went back to Flora's room and sat
down, while Flora told Jem the rest of her story.
Oh! sighed Jem, when she came to the end.
"How delightful it is to be here! Can I never
come again? "
"In one way you can," said Flora. "When
you want to come, just sit down, and be as quiet as
possible, and shut your eyes and think very hard
about it. You can see everything you have seen
to-day, if you try."
Then, I shall be sure to try," Jem answered.
She was going to ask some other question but
Baby stopped her.


Oh I 'm falling awake," she whimpered,
crossly, rubbing her eyes. "I'm falling awake
again."
And then, suddenly, a very strange feeling came
over Jem. Flora and the pretty room seemed to
fade away, and, without being able to account for
it at all, she found herself sitting on her little stool
again, with a beautiful scarlet and gold book on
her knee, and her mother standing by laughing at
her amazed face. As to Miss Baby, she was crying
as hard as she could in her crib.
"Mother!" Jem cried out. "Have you really
come home so early as this, and-and," rubbing
her eyes in great amazement, "how did I come
down."
Don't I look as if I was real," said her mother,
laughing and kissing her. "And does n't your
present look real? I don't know how you came
down, I'm sure. Where have you been ?"
Jem shook her head very mysteriously. She
saw that her mother fancied she had been asleep,
but she herself knew better.
"I know you would n't believe it was true if I
told you," she said; "I have been
BEHIND THE WHITE BRICK."


SONG.

BY THEODORE WINTHROP.
(From ids unhtublished writings.)


LISTEN, listen, listen while I sing-
There's mirth, mirth in everything!
In laughing eyes' quick glance,
In dashing through a dance,
Mirth does my charmed soul entrance!

Listen, listen, listen while I sing-
There's joy, joy in everything!
In bubbling of fresh streams,
In flashing sunlight beams,
Joy sparkles through my pensive dreams!


Listen, listen, listen while I sing-
There's hope, hope in everything!
In gloom and chill and night,
When lost the guiding light,
Hope rises ever bright!

Listen, listen, listen while I sing-
There's love, love in everything!
If mirth and hope must die,
Still I can upward fly,
Love lifts me to the sky!






WHY WILSTER ELSPEET'S SHIP


WHY WILSTER ELSPEET'S SHIP WENT INTO THE CHURCH.

BY SARAH J. PRICHARD.


THINGS always do come about in some way, and
this is the way in which this thing came about.
The day before, Wilster Elspeet, in his stout
fishing-boat, had gone from the island Heliogo-
land, across the North Sea, and sailed up the river
Elbe, to Hamburg, carrying with him a load of
oysters, which were to go from Hamburg to Lon-
don. He was not expected back at the island until
the second night, and-there was no one to draw
his lobster-pots.
There was Briel, to be sure, Wilster Elspeet's
only boy. Briel was thirteen, and, in his own
eyes, every inch a seaman; for, had he not, often
and over, sat at the oar, with his father in the boat
and helped pull in ? "
Then, there was Rhena; but Rhena was a girl.
It was always lonely at night, and lonely in the
day-time, too, in the Elspeet home, when the mas-
ter was away; for, away from Heliogoland in any
direction, meant danger to him who went, and
dread to those who stayed; moreover, dread had
deepened into death three times for Mrs. Elspeet,
and Briel had heard the story of his elder brothers
so often, that he verily thought he knew all about
that wild effort at rescue, which was made for them
when he himself was but a baby.
Heliogoland is a curious place, set more than
twenty miles from land for the ocean to buffet;
but it tries its utmost-and that is all that is
expected by wise folks of any one-to be beautiful,
and it succeeds. You must know that somewhere
about five hundred years ago, something very queer
happened,-at least, the geologists say so. At any
rate, the North Sea just boiled over with rage, and
beat against Heliogoland so terribly, that it took
off two or three pieces, and there they stand at
a little distance, and have names of their own; but


the island, what there is left of it,-not much over
a mile up and down, stands with its great red cliff
higher in the air than ever, and holds back its dainty
sands from the touch of the sea as far as it can.
This mite of land has on it two whole towns, one
under the cliffs on the sands, where the fishermen
live, and one in the air, up the cliff. The air-town
is the larger, and the houses are so neat and clean,
that their wooden walls and red roofs make them
look as though the village, up there, had just been
built out of a box of children's toys; only box-vil-
lages never hold anything half so fine as the great
light-house, whose night-eye watches and warns for
many a mile, nor half so curious as the brave old
church that, looking out from the cliff, has the
whole wide sea for its church-yard.
The Elspeets were pretty prosperous, and so
lived in the air-town, in one of the three hundred
and fifty of its homes.
While Rhena and Briel were eating their break-
fast, the lobster-pot buoys kept bobbing up and
down in the North Sea, and dozens of fishing-boats
went out from the long pier, that swings from the
Under-Land into the summer waves.
Rhena was the first to go forth into the sweet
morning. Briel followed presently, with his eyes
fixed on the out-going fishing-boats.
I just would like to know," said Briel, as he
joined her, "what there is in them lobster-pots
of father's. I don't believe they 're empty, a
bit."
BRIEL said Rhena, with an emphasis which
only a little Heliogoland girl could use, BRIEL,"
don't you dare to look that way, not till it's time
for father's sail to heave up on the sea."
"But, Rhena," cried the boy, "see! Look for
your own self; them boats is right clap over


176


flANARSY,






WENT INTO THE CHURCH.


father's lobster-ground. I 'm just going to run
down and see if I can't get-somebody-to go
over -"
His words grew faint and fainter, as, despite
Rhena's calls and re-calls, he ran with his utmost
speed to the stair-way cut in the stone of the cliff.
0 Briel, Briel, my brother Briel! sobbed
Rhena, to herself; "if mother only knew, she


unusually fine for their quest,-and the only per-
sons on the pier were strangers, who had come to
summer a while on the island, and had not the
slightest understanding of the evident conflict of
the two children, down the pier. Rhena had one
oar, and, with it in her stout little grasp, besought
Briel not to make the venture.
"No more danger than there is in the light-


THE SHIPS IN THE CHURCH. (PAGE 80o.)


would keep him, but he 'll be off in a boat, all
alone, before I can tell her. I '11 go down and hold
him back," she cried, with sudden energy.
Her yellow-bordered petticoat flashed along the
cliff, and went after him down that long stone stair-
way,-two hundred and three steps of it,-and, at
last, came, with its owner, in a little fluttering
gasp, out upon the pier.
The fishermen had all gone,-4the day being
VOL. VI.-I3.


house, up there," he assured her, with a significant
toss of his head toward the cliff.
If you should get into the sweep," said Rhena,
" or the wind, or-- Briel, what could you do if a
fog should settle down ?"
Take my chance with the rest. Don't you see
every fisherman is out? They would n't go if
they saw anything ugly," he replied, assuringly.
"But mother, Briel She'll be crazy, if you go."


-u'"''"






WHY WILSTER ELSPEET'S SHIP


SThis was Rhena's last weapon.
S"I '11 be back, with the boat full of lobsters,
before -mother knows anything about it. Come,
Rhena, give me the oar."
I This he said, coaxingly, but poor Rhena held it
fast. She stepped down from the pier into the boat.
She was about to take her seat, when Briel said:
* The lobsters wont be plugged "
Rhena's cheeks glowed, red as the cliff, above
her white lips. If there was one thing that this
little girl feared more than all other things, it was
a lobster. After a moment's hesitation, she said:
I am going with you."
"All the better," said Briel. "Then mother
will know nothing until we are all back again."
The boat had been drifting from the pier-head.
It began to chop a little on the quick seas that
beat about it.
"I'm Captain Elspeet now! You shall see
what a brave voyage I '11 make; and, only just
think, Rhe, how tickled father will be when he
gets home to-night, to find his lobsters all in.
You know how Hamburg always tires him, and,
like enough, he'd put off to the reef before he
came ashore at all, if I did n't wait down to tell
him, for the moon grows round to-night."
Rhena never answered him a word. She sat in
the boat-stern, her fingers clinging to the rail, her
face turned from the sea, her eyes on her home,
up the air.
I say, Rhe, why don't you speak to a fellow?
It is n't the thing to go lobstering with a dummy
in the boat."
"'Tend to your boat!" answered Rhena, get-
ting her head around just in time to see the sharp,
tooth-like projection of a rock ahead, upon which
Briel was running. Whisking his boat about in
the liveliest manner, he escaped by grazing the rock,
saying: "I should like to know, if it is n't the
stern's business to look ahead and signal a fellow ?"
I will look out, now," meekly replied Rhena,
"only I just feel as if the sea was going to swell and
swell until it burst all over this boat. You don't
know how I feel, Briel."
"Well!" said Briel, "that's because-Look out,
now, Rhe any danger ahead? "
No; only the boats have put off from the reefs."
What for, I wonder? You look sharp now for
the buoys. Father's have a black mark on 'em,
and one end's painted white."
Briel rowed with all his might, and kept on
rowing, until it seemed to his young arms as though
his boat ought to be at the mouth of the river
Elbe. Rhena had looked, as she believed, at
every bit of wrinkled blue the boat passed near,
without finding trace of her father's lobster-buoys.
, Indeed, the island itself did seem to Briel, as he


thought of it, farther away than when his father
rowed over to the reefs; the cliff was not so high,
the light-house could scarcely be seen, and the
church had grown small, while the government
house had disappeared.
Rhe," said Briel, I 'm sure-I think-I don't
believe you 've kept watch for the buoys."
Briel, do you suppose the sweep' has set us
off, and we 've got past?"
Rhena began to tremble with fear.
"Oh,we'11 be all right when I get the boat around,"
said Briel, assuringly to himself, but not so to his
sister. The boat seemed to the young captain to be
possessed with the desire not to be put about. No
sooner had he labored with one oar to get around
and put in the second oar, than the first stroke
would send him still farther from home.
"I '11 beat yet," said the oarsman, and, at the
eighth trial, he got the boat around, and to his
surprise found quite a little sea on, against which
it took all his strength to make the least progress.
A loiterer on the cliff, looking sea-ward, won-
dered what a little boat could be doing so far out.
Now that the boat was turned, Rhena saw it
all; they were far past the lobster-reef, and,
while she looked, Heliogoland was suddenly taken
from her sight. Briel did not see that,-his back
was toward it,-and she,with rare presence of mind,
did not tell him. She said softly to him: "Wont
you, dear Briel, give up the reef and get home
quick?"
He had not rowed far, after telling her to keep
a good look-out, when the great burying fog swept
around them, enclosing the children in its dread-
ful circle.
"Rhena!" cried Briel, nearly letting fall his
oars in pure astonishment.
"I saw it pick-up the island. I knew it was
coming," she said.
He said nothing, he drew in his oars, laid them
down, and sat silent, their boat drifting-drifting-
in a North Sea fog. They listened to the soft pat
of the bow on the waters as the waves swept under
and away from the boat into the mist.
What will become of us, Briel ?" she asked.
Oh, folks most always get out of a fog; it will
lift by and by, like as not," he answered.
Then she said:
Father must be in it, too."
He replied:
Yes, father is in it, too, but he has a compass;
if I had a compass, we 'd row and row straight
home."
They waited-sitting very still. Denser and
denser grew the mist,-the air darkened with it,-
their little craft drifted into fog, drifted through fog,
and went out ito fog.


[JANUARY,







WENT INTO THE CHURCH.


It grew chilly. Briel buttoned his jacket. Rhena
huddled herself into her own arms, and kept
watch for rock or buoy,
At noon, Briel wished that he had eaten more
breakfast, telling the little bunch in the other end
of the boat, that the fog made a fellow very full
of hunger, after rowing so."
Rhena's sun-bonnet grew limp, and more limp,
until it fell over her eyes, and shut out the sea and
the shrouding mist. She threw it off. Her very
hair was wet, as she tossed back her curls, and


"But," said Rhena, with a great quaver in her
voice, "we could n't help hearing the roar and
the swash through the caves."
Then we must n't talk," suggested Briel, and
they kept silence for a long time, until Rhena grew
cramped with her long-kept position, and stepped
carefully down into the boat, and crept, by gentle
movement, close to the oar-seat and laid her head
on Briel's knee.
"Are you glad I came?" she whispered.
The old fog is a bit lonely," confessed Briel.
"Do you think we could
hear the Carlsbad band
now?" questioned Rhena.
"I wish they 'd send
off a gun or two from the
old battery, just to tell a
fellow where we are," said
the young captain. "I
suppose they would, if
they had missed us at
home."
"If I only did know
which way home is,"
moaned the little girl,
puttingher hand between
her cheek and Briel's
rough trousers.
"Don't be hard on a
fellow now, and cry,"
begged the boy.
"I wont, Briel, not a
tear; but oh what if we
never see home again,
nor mother; andfatheris
so proud of you, Briel,
and to-morrow is the


Sunday, you know, and
the governor's baby is to
-be baptized in the church.
Si What if I am not there
-: to go up the aisle with
Simy little mug of water,
Sf to help fill the font?
There will be as many
"HE-SAILED TO AND FRO FOR HOURS." (NEXT PAGE.) as a hundred, all dressed
peered to the right and to the left, in her vain in white, to go, and mother said I might carry the
search for something firm to make fast to. silver cup to-morrow, for the governor's baby. If
Could n't we fasten the boat to a buoy and I had it now, I 'm afraid I should n't pour the
keep from drifting, if we find one ?" she asked, water into the font, I'm too thirsty! O, Briel! how
Yes, if we could see one." But their utmost long did the longest fog you ever knew, last ?"
search found only sea below and fog above. Summer fogs are n't much, and we 'It get out
I know now how a poor fly feels when it is of this, pretty soon. Why, just as soon as we 're
caught in a web," said Rhena, after a long pause. missed, they '11 look for us everywhere; the coast-
It's ever so much worse, though," remarked guard will be out, and I should n't wonder if they
Briel, "when the fly sees the spider coming, would illuminate Cavern Rock for us to-night.
and our spider, Rhe, is the Cavern R'' .: I; Would n't that be jolly ? "






WHY WILSTER ELSPEET'S SHIP


Rhena thought it would, but much preferred
getting home before night should come.
The afternoon waned. Somewhere, the sun went


i I ',
i I,





/ ,


I ,
I I


fi lll '





".;







SEARCHING INSIDE CAVERN ROCK.

down, doubtless. All that the children knew was
that the fog darkened and drifted by in leaden
sheets, drifting them into colder cold.
Wilster Elspeet got out his load of oysters and
sailed away for home, early in the morning of
Saturday, but it took him five or six hours to get
slowly down the Elbe and fairly into the North Sea,
so that he was just outside when the fog caught
him. It was an easy matter to about sail and
anchor in the river. And there he waited, until
near midnight, when, with a swift wind, the' mist
fled away, leaving him the full moon overhead,
and a fair breeze for Heliogoland.
He sped in, past the reef, and sailed into harbor
before the dawn.
In the pale moonlight, figures were moving up
and down on the pier, at which he wondered. The
coast-guard boats were gone from their moorings;
he was surprised at that, also.
"What's happened here?" he called, from
his deck. "A wreck in the fog ? "
"Children lost in the fog!" came back the
response.
"Their names? he demanded.
Wilster Elspeet's boy and girl."
"How, man? quick i "
"Went to haul in for lobsters, it is supposed."


"Tell Wilster Elspeet's wife he's gone to sea
for them," he cried, and immediately he put out
into the deep.
He sailed to and fro for hours, keeping a sharp
outlook across the moon-way, searching, searching
on every side the leagues of wave his boat surged
through. He stood on deck and listened, until it
seemed to him that his ears could hear the very
breathing of his children should their little boat
pass near.
He thought of his three brave boys, whose lives
had been taken by the sea; he thought of his
wife on the island, left behind amid the waves; of
his home and neighbors; of the church, where he
himself was baptized and married. As he thought,
his whole heart seemed to go out and cover the
whole ocean in one intense longing to gather out
of it the little boat that held Briel and Rhena.
Then he seemed to see again the old church up
the cliff and the little ships, under full sail, hanging
from its high ceiling, and to remember that each
one of them had been placed there by some one
who, in time of great peril, had vowed to God that
he would do it if saved from the sea.
Then Wilster Elspeet made his vow. It was that,
if permitted to fold his arms about his living chil-
dren again, he would offer to the Lord the best gift
he knew to give,-eyen a model of his bravest ship,
-"The Hertha." Itwould awaken anew his grati-
tude as often as he should see it suspended in air, if
only God would grant to him cause for gratitude.
Of the two thousand inhabitants of the little
island, not one had passed a cheerful night, for
might not this fate fall next on any one of them?
At day-break, on Sunday morning, the long pier
was crowded with anxious souls. The governor
was there iith the people, for the governor, too,
had children. The coast-guard boats, out all night,
came in, with no news, to breakfast their crews and
sail again. The North Peak held its little crowd
of sea-gazers.
Men stepped into row-boats and went to search
the caves by the light of day that they had thrust
torches into all night, in vain. The sun came up,
and the night-eye in the light-house closed.
The boats that were far out on the horizon's
edge seemed to move lazily to and fro. It was
Sunday and the church-bell rang, because, on Sun-
day, it always did ring. There were flowers in the
church for the coming baptism. The congregation
gathered slowly. The sad faces in the governor's
pew looked out through the curtained windows
across the communion-table at the sad faces in the
minister's curtained, box opposite. The women
and little children filed in slowly, and sat in the

pews bearing on their doors their family names.
The men entered the galleries, around which, very


I80'


[JANUARY,








THE CHURCH.


long ago, some artist painted scenes suggested in
Bible story, their eyes wandering, as they always
did, up to the ceiling, where hung the ships, each
one of which had its own glad or sad story, well
known to the islanders. As the service began, the
clergyman reading from beside the communion-
table, there was unwonted movement in the church,
-men went out, and men came in and went again;
they could not rest. The two children in the little
open boat, drifting on the great deep, without
food, were earnestly prayed for, and when of God
their safe return was asked, every lip and heart
answered, "Amen."
The miniPter climbed into the little hb.: "Iho-e

. J .r i, ,7,I t, -, !' .,-ot ,- ., ..... 0



.t r I h ii: i. I'. .: .. I r. i. iin I L, l ih i,.i [

I F." i ,- iF. 'r I- .: ., : i ,-I. h1 j. -.






r ,,- ,,l. ,,: ,,| I,, _-, ,,1 ,. th



r,.i' I _" rl i. -:r] r .l I r..:: r


and all, filed down the great cliff stair-way, headed
by the governor and the minister, and stood, a solid
mass of humanity, on the pier, to watch the oyster-
ketch, with its message of woe or weal, come in.
On the pier's outermost edge waited the Elspeet
mother, against whose stony grief no one dared to
cast a spray of comfort. She had walked the
island's shore all night and all day, and now had
come to meet the end.
Some one on board could be seen-movipg to and fro
as the sail drew near and nearer. Presently, the cap-
tain leaned out to look. He saw the eager crowd
awaiting him. Seizing his horn, he blew from it
1 TucrCP'inn of blicts,

i. l L -I 'I -



.' l : i ,-, r I .- I







r- l ,: r -,:, r "





J -'-': -i It
.I r :.: .. ... J


-- a _L t 1 h l. r .: c "I e


-1 -
i.


LI


A- -c~


SA GLAD SHOUT WENT UP FROM HELIOGOLAND PIER.


WENT INTO


1


"' .;.
~-

--~--








182 WHAT THE BIRDS SAID. [JANuARY,


K401


WHAT THE BIRDS SAID.

BY MARGARET VANDEGRIFT.

IN the frozen ivy, where the ice hung glittering,
Forty little sparrows were perching, swinging, twittering;
In his gilded prison, like a palace for a fairy,
Singing his blithe heart out, was a pretty, tame canary.

But his song grew silent as he watched the sparrows playing.
" Ah, you little free birds I could fancy he was saying,
" You can use your light wings, you can play together,
You are not afraid of cats, nor of the winter weather.

" I 'd not mind the weather, if they 'd but let me out,
Surely I could warm myself in flying all about;
All those lovely crumbs, too, that'the people throw,-
Must I eat naught but bird-seed, I should like to know?"

Then a little sparrow hopped upon the sill,
" What a lucky fellow !" piped he, loud and shrill;


I82


WHAT TH-E BIRDS SAID.


[JANUARY,






1879.] WHAT THE BIRDS SAID. 183


Oh, my senses Crinkle-toes, Feather-head, just look,
There 's his dinner set for him, as if he kept a cook!

Bless my heart a bath-tub, and some sugar, too!
No one thinks of building a house for me or you;
No,-they think they 're very kind if they but throw us crumbs,-
Well, some folks's puddings really seem all plums !"

Yellow-feathers' mistress, in her haste, next day,
Left the cage-door open, and he got away;
Through the open window joyfully he flew,
"Now," he sang, "for once I've had a dream that's coming true!"

Ah, the cold was cruel, ah, the wind was fierce !
Through his pretty feathers needles seemed to pierce,
Till, all tired out with flying, he hid his little head
In the frozen ivy-vine, whence soon he fell down,-dead !

Little Master Tommy set a trap that noon,
When he came from school, and caught three sparrows very soon;
There he said to Polly, did n't I engage
That if you 'd stop a-crying, I would fill the cage?"

Polly danced for pleasure, and forgot her tears;
Then the little sparrows, quaking with new fears,
Ruffling up their feathers in their tiny rage,
All at once discovered they were in the gilded cage.

Crinkle-toes, and Feather-head, and little Mr. Pert,
There they were in safety, not a feather hurt,
But the warm air stifled them, and the cage was small,
And they thought the bird-seed was not good at all.

When the bright spring weather came, each pretty head
Drooped in such a piteous way that gentle Polly said:
These are little wild birds, and can't belong to me,
As my dear canary did, so I will set them free !"

Open flew the window, open flew the door,
Out the sparrows darted, and were seen no more;
But Polly has a fancy that they whistled as they went,
Never grumble, darling! Always be content !"





_71 ^ ---_- .
:2="-2,m .- -. _













WONDERING TOM.


[JANUARY,


' 1I


"0, TOMI THE KING WANTS TO SPEAK WITH YOU!' (PAGE 185.)


-- -- --------~-,,,
-~~~-- -

_=-~--- ----5-~-
-=---=-=
---
--
--
-;-- -- ---=






1879.] WONDERING TOM. 11~5


WONDERING TOM.

BY MARY MAPES DODGE.
(Re-pufblisked, by reuest,from "Our Young Folks," with new illustrations by Frederick Dielman.)


LONG, long ago, in a great city whose name is
forgotten, situated on a river that ran dry in the
days of Cinderella, there lived a certain boy, the
only son of a poor widow. He had such a fine
form and pleasant face that one day, as he loitered
on his mother's door-step, the King stopped on the
street to look at him.
"Who is that boy?" asked his Majesty of his
Prime Minister.
This question brought the entire royal procession
to a stand.
The Prime Minister did not know, so he asked
the Lord of the Exchequer. The Lord of the
Exchequer asked the High Chamberlain; the High
Chamberlain asked the Master of the Horse; the
Master of the Horse asked the Court Physician;
the Court Physician asked the Royal Rat-catcher;
the Royal Rat-catcher asked the Chief-Cook-and-
Bottle-Washer; and the Chief-Cook-and-Bottle-
Washer asked a little girl named Wisk. Little
Wisk told him the boy's name was Wondering
Tom.
"So, ho!" said the Chief-Cook-and-Bottle-
Washer, telling the Royal Rat-catcher. So,
ho said the Royal Rat-catcher, passing on the
news; and it traveled in that way until, finally, the
Prime Minister, bowing low to the King, said:
May it please your most tremendous Majesty,
it's Wondering Tom."
Tell him to come here! said the King to the
Prime Minister. Tell him to come here was
repeated to the next in rank; and again his words
traveled through the Lord of the Exchequer, the
High Chamberlain, the Master of the Horse, the
Court Physician, the Royal Rat-catcher, and the
Chief-Cook-and-Bottle-Washer, until they reached
little Wisk, who called out:
O, Tom! the King wants to speak with you."
"With me! exclaimed Tom, never budging.
"Why?"
I don't know," returned little Wisk, "but you
must go at once."
Why? cried Tom.
O, Tom! Tom! they're going to kill you,"
she cried, in an agony.
WHY ? screamed Tom, staring in the wildest
astonishment.
Surely enough, the Master of Ceremonies had
ordered forth an executioner with a bow-string. In
that city, any man, woman, or child who dis-


regarded the King's slightest wish was instantly
put to death.
The man approached Tom. Another second,
and the bow-string would have done its work; but
the King held up his royal hand in token of par-
don, and beckoned Tom to draw near.
Whatever in all this world can his Majesty
want with me?" pondered the bewildered boy,
moving very slowly toward the monarch.
"Well, sir said his Majesty, scowling. So
you are here at last! Why do they call you Won-
dering Tom? "
ME, your Majesty? faltered Tom. "I-I-
don't know."
You don't know? (Most remarkable boy,
this!) And what were you doing, sir, when we
sent for you ?"
Nothing, your Majesty. I was only wondering
whether "
Ah, I see. You take your life out in wonder-
ing. A fine, strong fellow like you has no right to
be idling in his mother's door-way. A pretty king-
dom we should have if all our subjects were like
this! You may go."
"He has a good face," continued the King, turn-
ing to his Prime Minister, but he'll never amount
to anything."
"Ah, exactly so," said the Prime Minister.
"Exactly so," echoed the Lord of the Exchequer,
and "exactly so," sighed the Chief-Cook-and-Bot-
tle-Washer at last, as the royal procession passed on.
Tom heard it all.
"Now, how do they know that?" he muttered,
scratching his head as he lounged-back to the door-
step. Why in the world do they think I'11 never
amount to anything?"
In the door-way he fell to thinking of little Wisk.
"What a very nice girl she is! I wonder if she'd
play with me if I asked her,-but I can't ask her.
I do wonder what makes me so afraid to talk to
Wisk! "
Meantime, little Wisk, who lived in the next
house, watched him slyly.
Tom !" she called out at last, swaying herself
lithely round and round her wooden door-post,
" the blackberries are ripe."
"You don't say so! exclaimed Tom, in sur-
prise.
Yes, I do. And, Tom, there are bushels of
them in the woods just outside of the city gates !"






WONDERING TOM.


"Oh !" answered Tom, I wonder if there
are !
I know it," said little Wisk, decidedly, and
I 'm going to get some."
Dear me thought Tom, I wonder if she 'd
like to have me go with her. Wisk "
"What, Tom?"
Oh, nothing," said the frightened fellow, sud-
denly changing his mind, I was only wondering
whether it is going to rain or not."
Rain ? Of course not," laughed little Wisk,
running off to join a group of children going toward
the north city-gate; "but even if it should rain,
what matter ? "
"Oh," thought Tom, "she's really gone for
blackberries! I wondered what she had that little
kettle on her arm for. Pshaw! Why did n't I tell
her that I 'd like to go too ? "
Just then his mother came to the door, clapping
a wet ruffle between her hands. She was a clear-
starch er.
"Tom, Tom! why don't you set about some-
thing ? There 's plenty to do, in doors and out, if
you'd only think so."
Yes, ma'am," said Tom, wondering whether
or not he was going to have a scolding.
But you look pale, my pet; go and play, do.
One don't often have such a perfect day as this
(and such splendid drying, too !). If I were you,
I'd make the most of it;" and the mother went
back into her bare entry, still clapping the
ruffle.
I do wonder how I can make the most of it,"
asked Tom of himself, over and over again, as he
sauntered off.
He did n't dare to go toward the north gate of
the city, because he could n't decide what he should
say if he should meet little Wisk; so he turned
toward the south.
Shall I go back, I wonder, or keep on?"
thought Tom, as he found himself going farther from
the door-step and nearer to the great city-wall, until
at last the southern gate was reached. Following
the dusty highway leading from the city, he came
to pleasant fields. Then, after wading a while
through the sunlit grain, he followed a shady
brook and entered the wood.
"It's pleasant here," he thought. "I wonder
why mother did n't get a cottage out here in the
country instead of living in the noisy city."
Couldn't," croaked a voice near by.
Tom started. There was nobody near but frogs
and crickets. Besides, as he had not spoken
aloud, of course it could not be in answer to him.
Still, he wondered what in the world the voice could
be, and why it sounded like could n't."
It certainly did sound so. May be she could n't,


after all," thought Tom; but why could n't she,
I wonder?"
"No-one-to-help," said something, as it jumped
with a splash into the water.
I do wonder what that was! exclaimed Tom,
aloud; there 's nobody here, that's certain. Oh,
it must have been a toad Queer, though, how
very much it sounded like 'no-one-to-help !' Poor
mother I don't help her much, I know.
Pshaw what if I do love her, I 'm not the least bit
of use, for I never know what to start about doing.
What in all botheration makes.me so lazy Heigh-
ho! and Tom threw himself upon the grass, an
image of despair. I sha' n't ever amount to any-
thing, the King said. Now, what did he mean by
that "
Dilly, dally said another mysterious voice,
speaking far up among the branches overhead.
Tom was getting used to it. He just lifted his
eyebrows a little and wondered what bird that was.
In a moment he found himself puzzling over the
strange words.
Dilly, dally,' it said, I declare. Oh dear It's
too bad to have to hear such things all the time.
And then, there 's the King's ugly speech; a fellow
aint aging to stand everything! "
He was crying at last. Yes, his tears were drop-
ping one by one upon the green turf. He rested upon
his elbows, holding his face between his hands;
and, although he felt very wretched, he could n't
help wondering whether the grass in his shadow
would n't think it was night and that his tears were
dew-drops.
Suddenly his hat, which had tumbled from his
head and now lay near him, began to twitch
strangely.
Pshaw sobbed Tom, what's coming now,
I wonder ?"
I am," said a piping voice.
Where are you? he asked, trembling.
"Here. Under your hat. Lift it off."
While Tom was wondering whether to obey or
not, the hat fell over, and out came a fairy, all
shining with green and gold,-a funny little creat-
ure with a wide mouth, but her eyes were like
diamonds.
What are you crying for, Master Tom? asked
the fairy.
So she knows my name! thought the puzzled
youth ; well, that's queerer than anything I've
always heard that these woods were full of fairies;
but I never saw one before. I wonder why I'm not
more frightened."
Did you hear me? piped the little visitor.
"Did you speak? O-yes-ma'am-certainly,
I heard plain enough."
Well, what troubles you? "


[JANUARy,







WONDERING TOM


He looked sharply at the little lady. Yes, she
had a kind face. He would tell her all.
I wonder what your name is ?" he said, by way
of a beginning.
It's Kumtoothepoynt," said the fairy. "Be
quick! I can't stay long."
Why ? asked Tom, quite astonished.
"Because I cannot. That 's enough. If you
wish me to help you, you must be quick and tell
me your trouble."
Oh said Tom, wondering where to begin.
Are'you lame ? Are you sick ? Are you blind,
deaf, or dumb ? she asked, briskly.
Oh no," he replied, "nothing like that. Only
I don't know what to make of things. Everything
in this world puzzles me so, and I can't ever make
up my mind what to do."
"Well," said Kumtoothepoynt, kindly, "per-
haps I can help you a little."
"Can you?" he exclaimed. "Now I wonder
how in the world such a little mite as you ever --"
Don't wonder so much," squeaked the fairy,
impatiently, "but ask me promptly what I can do."
I'm going to," said Tom.
Going to!" she echoed. "What miserable
creatures these mortals are! How could we ever
get our gossamers spun if we always were going to
do a thing, and never doing it! Now listen. I'm
a very wise fairy, if I am small; I can tell you how
to accomplish anything you please. Don't you
want to be good, famous, and rich?"
"Certainly I do," answered Tom, with a start.
Very well," she responded, quite pleased. If
you always knew your own mind as decidedly as
that, they would n't call you 'Wondering Tom.'
It 's an ugly name, Master Mortal. If I were you
(may Titania pardon the dreadful supposition !)-if
I were you I'd wonder less and work more."
I wonder if I could n't! said Tom, half con-
vinced.
"There you go again!" screeched the fairy,
stamping her tiny foot. You're not worth talk-
ing to. I shall leave you."
She 's fading away," cried Tom. 0 fairy,
good fairy, please come back! You promised to
tell me how to become good and famous and rich!"
Once more she stood before him, looking brighter
and fresher than ever.
"You're a noisy mortal," she said, nodding
pleasantly to Tom. I thought for an instant that
it was thundering, but it was only you, calling.
I 've a very little while to stay, but you shall have
one more chance of obtaining everything you wish.
Now, sir, be careful! I '11 answer you any three
questions you may choose to put to me;" and
Kumtoothepoynt sat down on a toadstool, and
looked very profound.


"Only three ?" asked Tom, anxiously.
"Only three."
".Why can't you give me a dozen? There 's so
much that one wishes to know in this world."
"Because I cannot," said the fairy, firmly.
"But it's so hard to put everything into such a
few questions! I don't know what in the world to
decide upon. What do you think I ought to
ask ?"
"Consult the dearest wishes of your heart," said
Kumtoothepoynt, for there is the truest wisdom."
Ah, well. Let me think," pursued Tom, with
great deliberation. "I want to be wise, of course,
and good, and very rich,-and I want mother to
be the same,-and, good fairy, if you would n't
mind it, little Wisk to be the same too. And dear
me !-it's so hard to put everything in such a few
questions-let me see. First, I suppose I ought to
learn how to become immensely rich, right off, and
then I can give mother and Wisk everything they
want; so, good Kumtoothepoynt, here's my first
question, How can I grow rich, very rich, in-in one
week ? "
The fairy shook her head.
"I would answer you, Master Tom, with great
pleasure," she said, "but this is number FOUR.
You have already asked your three questions;"
and she turned into a green frog and jumped away,
chuckling.
Tom rubbed his eyes and sat up straight. Had
he been dreaming?
I'm a fool! he cried.
All the trees nodded, and their branches seemed
to be having great fun among themselves.
"A big fool he insisted.
The leaves fairly tittered.
"Didn't old Katy, the apple-woman, call me a
goose only this morning?" he continued, growing
very angry with himself.
"Katy did," assented a voice from among the
bushes.
Katy did n't!" contradicted another.
"Katy did !"
Katy did n't! "
Tom laughed bitterly.
Ha ha Fight it out among yourselves, old
fellows. I may have been asleep; but, anyhow,
I'm a fool "
Ooo- echoed a solemn voice above him.
Tom looked up, and in the hollow of an old tree
he saw a great blinking owl.
"Hallo old Goggle-eyes! You 're having some-
thing to say, too, are you? "
The owl shifted her position, and stared at him
an instant. Then, as if the sight of such a ridicu-
lous fellow was too much for her, she shut her eyes
with a loud T'whit that made Tom jump.






WONDERING TOM.


All these things set the poor boy to thinking in
earnest. The words of Kumtoothepoynt were ring-
ing in his ears, "If I wereyou, I'd wonder less and
work more." Going back through the wood across
the brook, and over the lots, he pondered over the
day's events, and the result of all his pondering
was that, as he entered the city gate, he snapped his
fingers, saying, "The King's words shall never come
true Wondering Tom is going to work at last!"

Three years passed away.
"Little Wisk" grew to be quite a tall girl; but
nobody thought of calling
her by any other name. .
She was so little and quick, '
so rosy, fresh, and spark-
ling, and so tender and true
withal, that she was Little
Wisk as a matter of course.
One chilly November
afternoon she missed old
Katy, the apple-woman, '
from her accustomed place
at the street corner.
"She must be sick," "-
thought little Wisk. Per- -.,
haps she has no one to '
help her.".
With some persons, to 1
think is to act. Wisk step-
ped into a neighboring i, V
cobbler's shop.
Mr. Wacksend, do you -'.S
know where the old apple-
woman lives ?"
"No," said the cobbler, gruffly. "Shut the
door when you go out."
Little Wisk looked at him as he sat upon his
bench, pegging away at his work.
Poor man! she said to herself, pushing the
awl through that thick leather makes him press his
lips tight together, and I suppose pressing his lips
so tight, day after day, makes him cross. I '11 try
the butcher."
She ran into the next shop.
Mr. Butcher, do you know where the old apple-
woman lives?"
"Well," returned the butcher, pausing to wipe
his cleaver on his sleeve, "she don't exactly live
anywhere. But, as the poor thing has neither kith
nor kin to help her, why, for the past year or so
I've just let her tumble herself in under a shed in
my back-yard. She's got an old chopping-bench
for a table, and a pile of straw for a bed, and that's
all her housekeeping."
"And don't she have anything to eat but apples ?"
asked Wisk, much distressed.


"Bless your simple heart!" said the butcher,
laughing, "she can't afford to eat her apples. No,
no. She keeps the breath in her body mostly with
black bread and scraps."
Scraps ?"
Yes, meat-scraps. I save 'em for her out of
the trimmin's. But what's wantin' of her so
particular? Did you come to invite her to
court?"
I'd like to see her for a moment," said Wisk,
shrinking from his coarse laugh.
"Well," answered the butcher, beginning to


= --I
WHAT CAN I DO FOR YOU, GOODY "
chop again, the surest way of seeing her is to go
to the corner and buy an apple."
"But she is n't there."
"Notthere? That's uncommon. Well" (point-
ing back over his shoulder with his cleaver), "go
down the alley here, alongside the shop; steer
clear of old Beppo in his kennel, he's ugly some-
times; then go past the pig-sties and the skin-heaps,
and cross over by the cattle-stalls; and right back
of them, a little beyond, is the shed. May be she's
lying there sick; like enough, poor thing !"
Little Wisk followed the directions, as she
picked her way carefully through the great, bleak
cattle-yard, thinking, as she went, that killing
lambs did n't always make a man so very wicked,
after all.
She found the old woman, moaning and bent
nearly double with rheumatism.
"What can I do for you, Goody?"
"Bless your bright eyes Did you come to see
poor old Katy? Ough ak-kh/ the pain's killing
me, child Oh, the Lord save us, ough al / "


I88


[JANUARY,


~







WONDERING TOM.


"It's too cold and damp for you in here, I'm
sure."
"Ah, yes, dearie dear,-ough, ought /-cold and
wet enough "
This old rusty stove would be nice if you had a
fire in it, Goody."
"Oh, the stove, dearie! The good gentleman
in the shop put it in here for me last winter. He's
kept me in meat-scraps, too. O-o-o (it catches
me that way often, child). But, alack I have n't
a chip nor a shaving to make a bit of a fire. O! /
oh / (the worst's in this shoulder, dearie, and 'cross
the back and into this 'ere knee). Yes, cold and
wet enough, so it is. Ough No use searching out
there, you wont find nothing. Not a waste splinter
of wood left after my raking and scraping till I was
too sick to stand up, I'll be bound."
I do wish I had money to buy you some, Goody,"
said Wisk. "I sha' n't have another silver-piece
till my next birthday, but you shall have that, I
promise you."
"Blessings on you for saying it, dearie; but old
Katy wont never last till then. What with cold
and hunger (the meat on the nail there's no use,
you see, if I can't cook it), and this 'ere ough-
a !/-this 'ere dreadful rheumatiz, I can't hold out
much longer."
Suddenly, a thought came to Wisk.
"Oh, Katy she.exclaimed, and off she ran, past
the cattle-sheds, the skin-heaps, the pig-sties, the
dog-kennel, down the alley, up the street, and
round the corner till she came to a carpenter's
shop-
"Tom," she said, hurrying in, quite out of
breath, and addressing a great strong boy who was
working there, "wont you give me some shavings
and chips ? "
"Certainly," said Tom, straightway beginning
to scrape together a big pile. "What shall we put
them in ? "
"Into my apron. They're for poor Katy, the
apple-woman. She lives in an old shed in Slorter's
cattle-yard. She's sick, Tom, and she hasn't a
thing to make a fire with."
Oh, if that's it," said Tom, we must get her up
a cart-load of waste stuff, if the boss is willing."
The boss spoke up.
Help yourself, Tom. You're the steadiest lad
in the shop, and you've never asked me a favor be-
fore. Help yourself. Take along all those odds and
ends in the corner yonder. Chips and shavings
soon burn up."
Much obliged to you, sir," said Tom; and he
added in a lower tone to Wisk, I'll load up and
take 'em 'round to her as soon as I've done my
work. You can carry your apronful now."
Wisk held up the corners of her apron while


Tom filled it, laughing to see how she lifted her
pretty chin so that he might put in a whole lot"
as she called it.
"There !" he exclaimed at last, "that's as much
as you can manage."
Thank you, Tom! Oh, how kind you are !"
and she started at once.
Wisk "
He had followed her to the door. When she
turned back, in answer to his call, he tried to speak
to her, but coughed instead.
Did you want me, Tom ?" she asked, demurely.
"Yes, Wisk. I--I-wanted to say that-that
I -"
"Why, what a cough you have, Tom! It's
from working so much in this windy shop. Oh,
Tom, I've just thought! If Katy had a door to
her shed and a bench with a back to it, she'd be
so comfortable."
She shall have both," said Tom. I 'll do it
this very evening. It's full moon."
Oh, you dear, blessed Tom Good-bye "
"Wisk "
But she was already running down the street.
Tom turned back slowly. I think he was wonder-
ing, though he had nearly conquered that old
habit. But it is so difficult, sometimes, to say just
what we feel to those we like very much !
First the shavings, then the chips," sang Wisk's
happy heart, as she hurried along; "first the shav-
ings, and then the chips, and then a spark from
old Katy's tinder-box, and sha' n't we have a beau-
tiful blaze?"
That night, the one-eyed dog in the butcher's
yard had a hard time of it. There was the moon
to be barked at; the pigs to be barked at; the
sheep, the oxen, and the lambs to be-barked at
every time they moved in their stalls. The skin-
heap, too, required a constant barking to keep it
from stirring while the rats were burrowing beneath.
And then there was the strange lad to be barked
at, coming in twice, as he did, with a hand-cart
heaped high with chips, shavings and blocks, and
again coming back with planks, hammer and saw.
And the sudden smoke from the sick woman's fire;
ah, how it bothered old Beppo !
He had lived long in the yard, and remembered
well how the high chimney had stood there for
years and years,-all that was left of a burned-
down factory,-and how the shed had been built
up around it as if to keep it from tumbling. For
months past it had been a quiet, well-behaved
chimney; but now to see smoke rushing out of it
at such a rate, bound straight for that aggravating
moon, was really too much to stand. So Beppo
barked and barked; and Tom hammered and
hammered; and old Katy, warm at last, curled






WONDERING TOM.


herself up in the straw, saying over and over again,
" How nice it will be How nice it will be !"

Time passed on. One day, the King and his
court came riding down that same street again.
Suddenly, his Majesty, grown older now, halted
before a carpenter's shop and asked:
"Who is that busy fellow, yonder?"
"Where, your most prodigious Majesty?" asked
the Prime Minister in return.
In the shop. He works with a will, that fellow.
I must let him build the royal ships."
"The royal ships!" echoed the Prime Minister,
" your most preposterous Majesty; why, that is a
fortune for any man !"
"I knowit. Why not?" said the King. "What
is his name ?"
The Prime Minister could not say. And again,
as on that day long ago, the question traveled
through the grandees of the court, until it reached
the Chief-Cook-and-Bottle-Washer, and the Chief-
Cook-and-Bottle-Washer asked a pretty young
woman named Wisk, who chanced to be coming
out of the shop.
He's a master-builder," replied Wisk, blushing.





|, i_-: 1 " i ,I,( -- *. -- I .


44
--'' "f -' i



*'. :5' '' -'" 1;,


-- -- :--'%/-"


"But what's his name ?" repeated the Chief-
Cook-and-Bottle-Washer.
"He used to bh called Wondering Tom," she
answered; "but now he's Thomas Reddy."
Thomas Reddy shouted the Chief-Cook-and-
Bottle-Washer. "Thomas Reddy!" cried the
Royal Rat-catcher.
And, in fact, "Thomas Reddy" was called so
often and so loudly along the line before it reached
the only officer who could venture to speak to the
King, that the master-builder threw down his tools
and came out of the shop.
"0, Tom! the King wants to speak with you
again said Wisk.
They took each other by the hand, and together
walked toward his Majesty.
Behold said the King, "we have found the
finest young workman in our realms Let prepa-
rations be made at once for proclaiming him Royal
Ship-builder What do they call you, young man ?
I 've lost the name."
Thomas Reddy, your Majesty," he answered,
his eyes sparkling with grateful joy.
"And who are you, my pretty one ?"
Oh, I'm his wife," said the smiling Wisk.


[JANUARY,







THE FUNNIEST GENERAL IN ALL THE WORLD.



THE FUNNIEST GENERAL IN ALL THE WORLD.

BY HEZEKIAH BUTTERWORTH.


1 -.E.--- R so long d c E*:*. '.: lived
and fought in Germany a
'' mighty general, and he
-. -' was awfully funny. I think
hewas about the funniest
S general in all the world.
He was very fat and very
clever, and, like all fat,
Clever people, he loved lit-
.-Z-".3 tie children. The fatter
S.* he grew, the more clever he
grew, and when he had a
.-., -.: :.r so of children about his
S i:r hr was n't much of a general,
I ; gcitlj go,-not much of a fighting
general, I mean.
But we must give the name and date of this
general, and so crack the historical nut-shell, before
we can set before our readers the sweetmeat of our
story. This we will do in a single paragraph, and
we shall have all the rest of the space to tell you
about the agreeable general, and the funny things
that he did.
Procopius, or Procope, the famous fat general,
was a Bohemian, and became commander of the
Hussites, who were almost an army of giants, in
1424. He won many victories with his terrible
army, and caused the princes of Moravia, Austria
and Saxony, to sue for terms at his feet. The fame
of his great deeds and wonderful victories filled all
Europe for eleven years, when he was killed in
battle in 1434. Now, the historical nut-shell is
cracked; and we will have some account of the
funny fat man who loved the children.
In the summer of 1432, good-natured Procopius
and his tall army came marching through the hot
mountain-passes into Saxony, and encamped in a
very lovely valley on the banks of the Saale, and
invested the old walled town of Naumburg. It was
cherry-time,-a lovely time of year to lay siege to
the tough old town,-and the valley was full of
cherry-trees, which was calculated to make fat
Procope and the tall besiegers, who were very fond
of the good things in the world, contented and
happy. So, while a part of-the army besieged the
town, the rest went cherrying, and a very comfort-
able time they had.
But the Saxons who were shut up in Naumburg
were resolute and stubborn, and refused to yield.
The golden moon that hung over the Saale on the
still nights when June perfumed the vale with roses,


waned, and halved, quartered and rounded again;
but the Saxons gave no signs of coming to terms
with the fat general. And Procopius, although
generally so clever and good-natured, began, we
are very, very sorry to say, to lose his patience and
his temper.
It was far past midsummer. The roses were
falling, and the cherries were rotting, and Procope
himself was getting sour. So one morning he put
on his high-heeled boots, and seemed to be un-
usually out of sorts, and he sent a terrible message
to the good people of Naumburg that, if they did
not surrender the town before the end of the week,
all of the people in it should at last be put to the
sword.
Oh, then there was distress in Naumburg. Yet
the sturdy old Saxon lords refused to surrender the
town.
But at last the store of food in the town was
nearly gone, and strong walls grow weak when the
people have no bread. The women began to be
hungry, and the children to cry for food.
What was to be done? They called a council,
but the council could do nothing. The besiegers
were strong without, and the corn was gone within,
and their lives were forfeited if they opened the
gates to the enemy.
There came to the council an old German school-
master, and when the lords and chief men could
offer nothing, he begged leave to say a few words
to them.
"Procope," said he, bowing very low, so that
his queue stuck out like a horn behind, "is very
fat."
"That will not help our leanness," said the
lords.
"Fat men are very clever," said the spare old
pedagogue.
"All the more inglorious to die at the hands of
a clever man," said the lords.
"And clever, fat men love children," said the
pedagogue, looking very wise.
That does not help oilr case," said the lords.
"A man who loves a child will not harm the
parent," said the old pedagogue.
But the Hussites do not love our children."
Every man has a tender place in his heart,"
said the wise pedagogue. Get at that, and one
is safe."
"But how does that apply to us?" asked the
lords.






GOLD LOCKS AND SILVER LOCKS.


Listen," said the pedagogue, looking still more
wise, and bringing the tip of one finger over into
the palm of his other hand, in a very knowing way.
"Procope loves children, and when they are
around him, he grows jolly and mellow, and his
heart gets warm, and his sternness all melts away
like a glacier in the spring sunshine. Send the
children of the town out of the gates to him. Tell
them to cling about his knees, and climb up into
his lap, and when he begins to pity them, and
grow fond of them, tell them to beg mercy for us,
and the foodless town of Naumburg."
That quiet summer afternoon, the gates of
Naumburg swung open, and a long procession of
little boys and girls issued forth, and wended their
way through the astonished Hussites to the gay
pavilion of Procopius. We fancy we can see them
now, and an old German picture we have seen
helps our fancy. This odd picture represents the
old pedagogue following behind with a bundle of
books under one arm, and a brisk switch in the
other hand, with which latter implement he was
refreshing the memories of some of the little boys
in the rear, by a wise application in the usual way.
When Procope saw them coming he seemed
mighty pleased, and with large eyes and puffing
lips he waddled out to meet them. The little girls
seized him around his funny legs, and hugged
him tight, and the little boys all began to say:
0, good Procope, we've come to you to pro-
tect us."
What could Procopius do? He tried to be hard,
but it was impossible. So he sat down under a big
cherry-tree near by, and the boys and girls in a few
minutes were running all over him like goats over
a mountain. His heart was besieged, and a breach
was soon made in its weakest place.


He put his hand on one little boy's hair and
kissed another little girl, who looked so pretty and
innocent that he could not help it. And his great
arms clasped a half-a-dozen children at once, and
his heart grew warm and mellow, and he found that
he could resist no longer. So the clever fat general
suddenly cried out:
It's no use. I can't see the children suffer,
you know. I guess I shall have to surrender."
Then he ordered the Hussites to bring him
baskets of cherries, and he and the children had a
cherry feast, and great was the happiness on the
banks of the Saale, near the foodless town of
Naumburg.
The children returned to the city at night, and
each one hugged and kissed Procopius as they
parted, and said in a low, sweet voice:
Spare, for our sakes, the town of Naumburg."
The moon hung over the Saale in the golden air,
and in the late hours dipped behind the far mount-
ains. The sun rose fair, and the watchmen looked
down from the grim walls of Naumburg on the long
valley; but Procopius and the Hussites were gone,
and a happier day never was seen in the town.
For four hundred years the Saxons have loved to
recall this delightful event of history, and have
celebrated it by the Kinderfest," or Children's
F&te," or, as it is often called, "The Cherry Feast
of Naumburg." This festival corresponds to our
Fourth of July, and occurs on the 28th of July, and
a right glad day it is to the children of Saxony.
And, would you see how long the happy influence
of a single good deed may last? why then, when
you go to Germany, drop down to the Saale in
summer time, and eat some cherries with the chil-
dren at the Children's F&te, in honor of the funniest
general in all the world.


GOLD LOCKS AND SILVER LOCKS.

BY CELIA THAXTER.


PUPIL and master together,
The wise man and the child,
Merrily talking and laughing
Under the lamp-light mild.

Pupil and master together,
A fair sight to behold,
With his thronging locks of silver,
And her tresses of ruddy gold.


" Well, little girl, did you practice
On the violin fo-day?
What is the air I gave you?
Have you forgotten, pray?"

And he sings a few notes and pauses,
Half frowning to see her stand
Perplexed, with her white brows knitted,
And her chin upon her hand.


UANUARY,






GOLD LOCKS AND SILVER LOCKS.


Far off in the street of a sudden
Comes the sound of a wandering band,
And the blare of brass rings faintly,
Too distant to understand.

" Hark!" says the master, smiling,
Bending his head to hear,
" In what key-are they playing?
Can you tell me that, my dear?


I thought, if one had the power,
What a beautiful thing 't would be,
Hearing Life's manifold music,
To strike in one's self the key;

Whether joyful or sorry, to answer,
As wind-harps answer the air,
And solve by simple submission
Its riddles of trouble and care.


" Is it D minor? Try it!
To the piano and try !"
She strikes it, the sweet sound answers,
Her touch so light and shy.

And swift as steel to magnet,
The far tones and the near
Unite and are blended together
Smoothly upon the ear.


But the little maid knew nothing
Of thoughts so grave and wise,
As she stole again to her teacher,
And lifted her merry eyes.

And neither dreamed what a picture
They made, the young and the old,-
With his thronging locks of silver,
And her tresses of ruddy gold.


VOL. VI.-14.






TEN DOLLARS.


ONE CHRISTMAS FIRESIDE.


TEN DOLLARS

BY OLIVE THORNE.


PERSONS OF THE PLA Y.
Mr. Cameroa.-A .. .. .
Mlrs. Cameron.--*. .
Grandmot1he:.--His mother.
Children of Mr. Janel.-A School-teacher. Girard.-A Clerk.
and Mrs. Cameron. lMabel.-A Music-teacher. Nellie.-A School-girl.
SCENE.
A comfortable, though homely, sitting-room, with a stove, a rag-
carpet, a center-table, with two candles and snuffers on it.
Janet in gray dress, hair plain, sitting in a straight chair, sewing.
Mabel, the musician, in bright dress, with ribbons and curls, lounging
in an easy chair, reading.
Girard, studying book-keeping.
Nellie, with hair in braids, studying her arithmetic with slate, etc.
All these around the table, with place left for Mother, whose work-
basket, full of stockings, stands on the table. Her low sewing-
chair awaits her beside the table.
Grandmother, in big rocking-chair by stove, knitting.
Grandmother. Nellie, I don't think you were
polite to your friend when she came home with
you. I was surprised you did n't invite her to tea.
Nellie. Well, Grandma, I did want to-aw-
fully, but you see [hesitating] I was ashamed.
Grandmother. Ashamed! Of what, pray? [drop-
fing her knitting in amazement]. I hope I haven't
lived to see a Cameron stoop to the low standard
of the present day, which estimates a man by the
number of dollars he has heaped together, hon-
estly or dishonestly !
Janet [smiling]. No, Grandma. I think we are
all true Camerons in pride of family, and it keeps
us contented -under some trials, too, but I suppose.
Nellie refers to the state of our family china,"--
if the relics that adorn our table can be called so.


Grandmother [with spirit]. As if that made
any difference with the spirit of hospitality!
Janet. Of course it makes no difference really;
but you must admit, Grandma, it is a little
mortifying to offer your friend, a cracked plate to
eat from, and a handleless tea-cup in a chipped
saucer of another set, while the bread comes on in
a blue-edged pie-plate.
Nellie [ruefully]. And not a whole pitcher in
the house !
Janet. The truth is, we must manage some
way to buy a few decent dishes. Our table is a
disgrace.
Mabel [looking up for the first time]. So it is,
Janey; I do wish we could have something really
artistic! I saw such a choice set of Wedgwood
to-day, as I passed Orton's !
Janet [laughing]. Wedgwood and dinner-sets
are not for us, Sis. We shall have to content
ourselves with a few cups and saucers, and plates;
and I don't see exactly where those are to come
from, either.
Mabel. But it's just as easy to buy even a
few things that show some taste for art and the
beautiful; and a bit of pure color here and there
gives a plain table such an air.
Girard [looking up for the first time]. Airs at
a Cameron table! I'm amazed As for hits of


[JANUARY,







TEN DOLLARS.


color," Bel, a good steak is as nice a bit of color as
I want to see.
Mabel. How gross, Girard I
Nellie [eagerly]. But about the dishes; let's
all help to get thCem.
Girard [mockingly]. Pass around the hat!
How much do you start with, Nell? Mabel can
contribute her cultchah "; you, your enthusiasm;
I, my good wishes; and Janey must do the rest.
Nellie [meekly, and returning to her slate]. I
have n't any money, I know, but I could do with-
out something, I suppose, and take that money.
Janet [laying down her work in her interest].
That's what I thought of. We all shall have to
pinch somewhere to do it. I thought for one
thing, we might give up butter at the table-we
children, I mean; that would save something from
the house bills.
Girard [tragically]. Oh, Janet! "the most
unkindest cut of all!"-that was aimed at me, I
know. What are buckwheats without butter?
Janet [with pretended severity]. Very good
and wholesome eating, Mr. Girard. You are far
too tender of that exacting stomach of yours! It's
time it was denied.
Girard jumpingg uf, and striking an attitude].
Denied! Don't I cheat it with codfish and
corned beef! and mock it with dandelion coffee!
and have n't I punished it with oatmeal, and
crushed wheat, and other horse-feed? "Oh, that
way madness lies What would you have a fel-
low do-live on bran?
Janet [severely virtuous]. Yes, if he could not
pay for better. Benjamin Frank--
Girard [interrupting]. There, don't fling Ben
Franklin at me again! He did n't care what he
did; he paraded the streets of Philadelphia, eating
one loaf of bread, and holding another under
his arm. I saw him do it-in a picture, I mean.
Grandmother. That was nothing to be ashamed
of.
Girard [sittingdown]. Nor to brag of, neither.
Janet. Well, never mind Ben Franklin; the
question now before the house, is: How can each
of us save a little money?
Girard. Let 's appoint a committee of ways
and means-that 's such a nice easy way I nom-
inate Miss Janet Cameron for the committee. Let
her make something out of nothing, and in the
words of the immortal-(ahem) -somebody, "show
us how divine a thing a woman may become."
Janet. Now, Girard, stop your nonsense, and
devote yourself to this "account of stock," while
we girls talk things over.
Girard. By the way, that reminds me that I
took a letter from the post-office for father to-day.
Where is he?


Janet. In the study, I believe.
[Girard goes out.]
Grandmother. I '11 help, Janet. I can do with-
out the cap you were going to make me.
Janet. No, indeed, Grandma! You shall
have a new cap if we have to eat off of leaves. We
young folks are the ones to do without things.
[Girard returns, snuffs the candles, and resumes his seat.]
Janet [continues]. I have a little of my quar-
ter's salary left, which I will give.
Mabel. But -
Janet [hastily]. No butss," Mabel. Of course,
it is only by some self-denial that we can do it.
We have no superfluous luxuries.
Mabel [sighing]. I think not, indeed! Well,
of course, I '11 give up butter, too, and-and [hesi-
tating] I wont buy that new piece of music.
Nellie. That you've been wanting for six months!
Mabel. I don't need it more than Janet needs
shoes.
Nellie pushingg her books back on the table].
Dear me! what can I do without, I wonder?
[reflecting]--I suppose I might wear my old hat as
it is, without the flower mother said I might get.
I can't think of anything else.
Janet. But, Nellie, that will be too bad. It
really needs it.
Nellie. No more than you and Mabel need
things. I can tie my veil over it. I wonder how
it will look, anyway ?
[Goes to a cupboard or drawer, and brings out an old hat, pulls
the trimming this way and that to give it a fresher look, while
the talk goes on, no one observing her.]
Girard. "Adversity's sweet milk-philosophy!"
Janet [turning to Girard, now .,' .
absorbed in his books]. Now, Girard, it's your
turn. Show us some of the philosophy you men-
tioned.
Girard [aifarentlysurprised].' Eh? What?
Janet. Have n't you some pet thing to sacrifice ?
Girard. I can't sacrifice my pet; you 've
done that yourself at one fell stroke-that 's but-
ter. But [seriously] I suppose I must crucify my
pride, like the rest-though it is Cameron pride,
Grandma. I '11 have my shoes patched, and wait
till next quarter for new ones [holding out a some-
what dilapidated shoe, and looking at it on every
side with comical look of dismay]. If you have
tears, prepare to shed them now "
Janet [warmly]. And you so hate a patch!
Girard, your pride is of the right sort; you 're
ahead of us all.
Girard [theatrically]. "Who is here so base
that would be a bondman? "-- to a pair of shoes
-- "If any, speak !" How much will all these
sacrifices net?
Janet [in business-like way]. The sum total






TEN DOLLARS.


of these several sacrifices of the Cameron family,
net,- ahem! exactly [slowly] if we do with-
out butter for a month nine dollars and
seventy-five cents !
Nellie [eagerly throwing down the hat]. Is
that enough ?
Janet. Yes, I think so, used with discretion.
Girard. Well, then, shell out [opening a
thin pocket-book. Soliloquizing]. "I do remem-
ber a lonely"-- two-dollar note "and here-
abouts he lives. Has he not a lean and hungry look ?"
Who'll be treasurer of this great financial scheme ?
Janet, of course. "'T was ever thus"-- she's
always everything in this house- wisest,virtuos-
est, discreetest, best"-- Here, Miss Factotum
[tendering the bill with mock ceremony].
[Mabel slowly draws out a shabby portemonnaie, and carefully
takes out several pieces of change, spreading them on the
table, and counting them.]
Mabel. Twenty-five-fifty- seventy-five-one
dollar twenty-five-thirty-forty-forty-five-forty-
nine-one dollar and forty-nine-cents.
[The door opens, Mother enters and seats herself by table, hold-
ing up a ten-dollar bill.]
Mother. Children, we've had a windfall.
Chorus. Have we! Oh! Oh not that?
Mother. Yes, this ten-dollar bill. Your father's
letter was from Mr. James, inclosing the ten dol-
lars he owed him, which we had given up long
ago.
Girard [aside]. "Now is the winter of our
discontent, made glorious summer by this son
of"- greenbacks !
Janet. What will he do with it, Mother ?
Mother. He has given it to me to put where
it is most needed. He has no bills out; coal is in
and paid for, and we have a barrel of flour. In
fact-thanks to your all doing so well, we are
comfortable for the winter. Now, where is it most
needed about the house ? I thought, myself, that
father ought to have a new study-chair. His is
really unsafe.
[A pause of several minutes. Each one in a brown study.
Mother draws up her basket, and takes out her work.]
Nellie [suddenly, very earnestly]. 0 Mother!
I do wish you'd get me some new ribbons and a
pair of gloves they wont cost much, and mine are
really too shabby to be decent !
Mother [surprised, and dropping her work].
Why, I thought your blue ribbons looked very
nice yet, Nellie; and your gloves, I'm sure, can't
be worn out.
Nellie. They 're not really in holes, but worn
white and shabby; and my blue ribbons [scorn-
fully] have been washed, you know, and they do
seem so slimsy and mean. I wish you could see
Belle Nelson's


Janet [interrupting]. Belle Nelson, indeed!
The idea of your dreaming of rivaling her If you
talk about needs, I think I need a new dress about as
much as you need ribbons and gloves. I'm hardly
respectable in my old brown serge, cleaned and
turned upside down, inside out, hind-side before,
flounced to hide piecing, and bowed to hide darns!
Mother [ .. aghast at this savage speech,
and nervously twisting the bill as she talks]. Why,
Janet, I thought your dress looked so nice and
you were so contented!
Janet. Well, I expected, of course, to wear it, and
I had to be contented; but it makes me furious,
after all the trouble I 've had with Nellie's clothes,
to have her talk about Belle Nelson.
Girard [starting up and walking across the
room, returning and snuffing the candles again].
Now, Mother, see here It 's all stuff to talk
about ribbons and frocks Girls always want a
cart-load of such truck I say, Here, let's have a
high old Christmas-dinner! One of the real old
sort, that all can enjoy and remember through sub-
sequent scrimped dinners.
Janet [ironically]. That's just like a boy!
I've always heard that the way to a man's heart
was through his stomach; but I didn't think it
cropped out so young in life.
Girard [~ft;,,d by the taunting reflection on
hisage]. Young! I'dliketoknow-
Mother [earnestly, interrupting, and forgetfully
letting the bill, now twisted into a wisp, fall into her
lap]. Children! Children! I am extremely
pained to see such a spirit! If you cannot talk it
over pleasantly, I shall be sorry we ever saw the ten
dollars.
[Janet and Girard look ashamed, and are silent. Girard sits
down.]
Mabel [mildly]. Mother, don't you think it
would be well to put this unexpected money to the
use of a little culture ? Our lives are so bare and
devoid of beauty We surely shall grow gross
and earthly-minded if we never lift ourselves
above our material needs, nor cultivate our
aesthetic tastes.
Girard [wickedly, sotto voce]. Ahem "And
still the wonder grew,
That one small head could carry all she
knew."
Mabel [not hearing him]. How would it do
to spend it for a season-ticket to the Philharmonic
concerts this winter, and take turns in going? or
to buy a choice photograph of some grand picture,
which would be constant culture to the whole fam-
ily, refining and -
Girard [pitching his book across the room, mak-
ing Grandmother start, and drop her ball]. Yes,
to you / But nobody else cares a fig for your old


196


[JANUARY,







TEN DOLLARS.


concerts, and your choice photographs! [Sees
Grandma's ball, ficks it up and returns it to her. ]
[Mabel starts up, indignant at Girard's words, then sits and buries her
face in a book.]
Girard [continuing]. I think, the best way, after
all, is to put the money into silver dollars and divide
it around, so that each one may get exactly what
suits him.
Mother [leaning forward, pained and distressed,
the bill drots to the floor]. But, children, I am
amazed to see this dreadful discontent I never
suspected that you felt like this.
Nellie interruptingg hotly]. I suppose I am
horrid But when one has been to school all her
life, dressed meaner than the washerwoman's daugh-
ter, I don't think it's wonderful that she should
want a new thing once in a while. It's no worse
than to stuff it down the throat, as Girard would
like!
Mabel [laying down the book she took up when
Girard interrupted. Neither eating nor dress-
ing is more than a vulgar necessity. Our spiritual
nature craves higher pleasures, and I do think we
ought to try to rise above that low plane.
Girard [., _. .-:. "1. Stuff!"
Janet [tossing her head with dignity]. Well,
all of you may say what you like about it, but I can
tell you this --
[At this moment, Girard jumps up to snuff the candles again, and
in his haste, snuffs one of them out.]
Nellie [crossly]. Now you've done it!
[Girard snatches up the other candle to relight the first.]
/Mother [seizing his hand]. No, no! You '11
spill the grease Take a paper [turning to look
for one in her basket].
[Girard looks around, sees the bill in a wisp on the floor, picks
it up.]


Girard. Here's one, Mother!
[Lights it at one candle, re-lights the other, and turns to the
stove with the burning bill; opens the stove-door, throws it in,
carelessly looking at it when in; suddenly looks aghast.
Girard [anxiously]. My goodness! Mother,
where 's that bill ?
[Door opens; Mr. Cameron puts in his head to see what's the
matter. ]
Mother. Why, I have it; it's right here
[looking in her lap and on the table]. I had it
in my hands a minute ago-I was twisting it in
my fingers, I believe.
[Looks on the floor. The rest join in the search under the table:
Janet looks in work-basket; Mother stands up and shakes
her dress.]
Girard [standing still, panic-stricken]. Girls,
you need n't look any more. Mother, I-I-lighted
the candle with it. I thought it was a wisp of
paper.
iMother [distressed]. I twisted it up, as I do
everything, I suppose, and laid it down carelessly.
Mabel [interrupting]. No; Girard .took that
paper from the floor; I saw him.
Girard. Then it dropped, for I saw it as it
burned in the stove.
Chorus [of dismay]. Burned!
Grandmother [fervently, laying down her knit-
ting and pushing her spectacles up to her forehead].
Bless the Lord let us return to contented poverty!
[All see the point, look ashamed, and subside into seats in
silence.]
Father [after looking sharply at each discon-
tented face]. Mother, do you regret the money?
Mother [serenely, taking uf her darning-basket].
No, William! It has bought us a useful lesson!
It is well bestowed.
Grandmother. And no one even once thought
of the china we need so badly !
[All bend over books and work, as at beginning.]


CURTAIN.






RUMVLPTY-DUDGIT 'S TOWER.


RUMPTY-DUDGET'S TOWER.
(A Fairy Tale.)

BY JULIAN HAWTHORNE.


LOOKING THROUGH THE ROUND WINDOW.


LONG ago, before the sun caught fire, before the
moon froze up, and before you were born, a Queen
had three children, whose names were Princess
Hilda, Prince Frank, and Prince Henry. Princess
Hilda, who was the eldest, had blue eyes and
golden hair; Prince Henry, who was the youngest,
had black eyes and black hair; and Prince Frank,
who was neither the youngest nor the eldest, had
hazel eyes and brown hair. They were the best
children in the world, and the prettiest, and the
cleverest of their age: they lived in the most beau-
tiful palace ever built, and the garden they played
in was the loveliest that ever was seen.
This castle stood on the borders of a great forest,
on the other side of which was Fairy Land. But
there was only one window in the palace that
looked out upon the forest, and that was the round
window of the room in which Princess Hilda, Prince
Frank, and Prince Henry slept. And since this
window was never open except at night, after the
three children had been put to bed, they knew very
little about how the forest looked, or what kind of
flowers grew there, or what kind of birds sang in
the branches of the trees. Sometimes, however,


as they lay with their heads on their little pillows, and
their eyes open, waiting for sleep to come and
fasten down the eyelids, they saw stars, white, blue,
and red, twinkling in the sky overhead; and below
amongst the tree-trunks, other yellow stars, which
danced about, and flitted to and fro. These flitting
stars were called, by grown-up people, will-o'-the-
wisps, jack-o'-lanterns, fire-flies, and such like
names; but the children knew them to be the
torches carried by the elves, as they ran hither and
thither about their affairs. They often wished
that one of these elves would come through the
round window of their chamber, and make them
a visit; but if this ever happened, it was not until
after the children had fallen asleep, and could
know nothing of it.
The garden was on the opposite side of the
palace to the forest, and was full of flowers, and
birds, and fountains, in the basins of which gold-
fishes swam. In the center of the garden, was a
broad green lawn for the children to play on; and
on the further edge of this lawn was a high hedge,
with only one round opening in the middle of it.
But through this opening no one was allowed to


" ~"-`~


[JANUARY,







RUMPTY-DUDGET'S TOWER.


pass; for the land on the other side belonged to a
dwarf, whose name was Rumpty-Dudget, and
whose only pleasure was in doing mischief. He
was an ugly little dwarf, about as high as your
knee, and all. gray from head to foot. He wore a
broad-brimmed gray hat, and a gray beard, and a
gray cloak, that was so much too long for him that
it dragged on the ground as he walked; and on
his back was a small gray hump, that made him
look even shorter than he was. He lived in a gray
tower, whose battlements could be seen from the
palace windows. In this tower was a room with a
thousand and one corners in it. In each of these
corners stood a little child, with its face to the wall,
and its hands behind its back. They were children
that Rumpty-Dudget had caught trespassing on
his grounds, and had carried off with him to his
tower. In this way he had filled up one corner
after another, until only one corner was left un-
filled; and if he could catch a child to put in that
corner, then Rumpty-Dudget would become master
of the whole country, and the beautiful palace
would disappear, and the lovely garden would be
changed into a desert, covered over with gray
stones and brambles. You may be sure, therefore,
that Rumpty-Dudget tried very hard to get hold
of a child to put in the thousand and first corner;
but all the mothers were so careful, and all the
children so obedient, that for a long time that
thousand and first corner had remained empty.

II.-ToM, THE FAITHFUL GUARDIAN.
WHEN Princess Hilda and her two little brothers,
Prince Frank and Prince Henry, were still very
little, indeed, the Queen, their mother, was obliged
to make a long journey to a distant country, and to
leave the children behind her. They were not
entirely alone, however; for there was their fairy
aunt to keep guard over them at night, and a large
cat, with yellow eyes and a thick tail, to see that no
harm came to them during the day. The cat was
named Tom, and was with them from the time
they got up in the morning until they went to bed
again; but from the time they went to bed until
they got up, the cat disappeared and the fairy aunt
took his place. The children had never seen their
fairy aunt except in dreams, because she only came
after sleep had fastened down their eyelids for the
night. Then she would fly in through the round
window, and sit on the edge of their bed, and
whisper in their ears all manner of charming stories
about Fairy Land, and the wonderful things that
were seen and done there. Then, just before they
awoke, she would kiss their eyelids and fly out of
the round window again; and the cat, with his
yellow eyes and his thick tail, would come purring
in at the door.


199


One day, the unluckiest day in the whole year,
Princess Hilda, Prince Frank and Prince Henry
were playing together on the broad lawn in the
center of the garden. It was Rumpty-Dudget's
birthday, and the only day in which he had power
to creep through the round hole in the hedge and
prowl about the Queen's grounds. As ill-fortune
would have it, moreover, the cat was forced to be
away on this day from sunrise to sunset; so that
during all that time the three children had no one
to take care of them. But they did not know there
was any danger, for they had never yet heard of
Rumpty-Dudget; and they went on playing to-
gether very affectionately, for up to this time they
had never quarreled. The only thing that troubled
them was that Tom, the cat, was not there to play
with them; he had been away ever since sunrise,
and they all longed to see his yellow eyes and his
thick tail, and to stroke his smooth back, and to
hear his comfortable purr. However, it was now
very near sunset, so he must soon be back. The
sun, like a great red ball, hung a little way above
the edge of the world, and was taking a parting
look at the children before bidding them good-
night.
All at once, Princess Hilda looked up and saw a
strange little dwarf standing close beside her, all
gray from head to foot. He wore a gray hat and
beard, and a long gray cloak that dragged on the
ground, and on his back was a little gray hump
that made him seem even shorter than he was,
though, after all, he was no taller than your knee.
Princess Hilda was not frightened, for nobody had
ever done her any harm; and besides, this strange
little gray man, though he was very ugly, smiled at
her from ear to ear, and seemed to be the most
good-natured dwarf in the world. So she called to
Prince Frank and Prince Henry, and they looked
up too, and were no more frightened than Hilda;
and as the dwarf kept on smiling from ear to ear,
the three children smiled back at him. Mean-
while, the great red ball of the sun was slowly going
down, and now his lower edge was just resting on
the edge of the world.
Now, you have heard of Rumpty-Dudget before,
and therefore you know that this strange little
gray dwarf was none other than he, and that,
although he smiled so good-naturedly from ear to
ear, he was really wishing to do the children harm,
and even to carry one of them off to his tower, to
stand in the thousand and first corner. But he had
no power to do this so long as the children staid
on their side of the hedge; he must first tempt
them to creep through the round opening, and then
he could carry them whither he pleased. So he
held out his hand and said:
Come with me, Princess Hilda, Prince Frank







200


an(
ver



J I I


RUMPTY-DUDGET'S TOWER.


I Prince Henry. I am
y fond of little children;
i if"nol 'ill creep throllT
r ,. ,', t-.
l .1 i ... -, ,Lu '.-

b i,, h aL i'r .' l .l Ltl',,.. _b r


But from the other side of the hedge he threw
a handful of black mud at the three children; a
drop of it fell upon the fr,-ehe1 d nf Prin-cess
1-il ..1 -l.,_I |:, l. t I [.- i ., i IF ': I F I r ', I ,:,-*--. "t id
-. rhl ..l p., h, : _i- i..:., H- L 1 r I. F.; :n .I ) .. -,ch


.l '- i .



I I I I 1. .1. h 1. .



,m ; S. ".".'-' [, r.".











e l I t I i .- 1. .


: r l .. .:. t.. .::, l. ..- .
c I o I I 1_. L
-. ' 1 H ; '













i I i l l aI .I I. i I i 1 11 11 I
Fi d rii i I.:. r- i t o 0 I iit .. .t .l, I.II




cill l r t n .I. 1 li l i fl i] i nI l r i.ut









di sappa iud r-alI i.:lh LC d ef iiLL, a I' ld, and

spi.ing, and Tom, the cat, came springing across
the lawn, his great yellow eyes flashing, and his
back bristling, and every hair upon his tail standing
straight out, until it was as big round as your leg.
And he flew at Rumpty-Dudget, and jumped upon
his hump, and bit and scratched him soundly. At
that Rumpty-Dudget screamed with pain, and
dropped little Prince Henry, and vanished through
the opening of the hedge in the twinkling of an eye.


--ft
YY





























lit .
K Ai

7 -A, 00


X r~


THE CAT DRIVES RUMPTY-DUDGET AWAY.


[JANUARY,







RUMPTY-DUDGET'S TOWER.


And immediately Princess Hilda, who had till then
been the best little girl in the world, began to wish
to order everybody about, and make them do what
she pleased, whether they liked it or not; and
Prince Frank, who till then had been one of the
two best little boys in the world, began to want all
the good and pretty things that belonged to other
people, in addition to what already belonged to
him; and Prince Henry, who till then had been
the other of the two best little boys in the world,
began to wish to do what he was told not to do,
and not to do what he was told to do. Such was
the effect of the three black drops of mud.

III.-THE WAYS OF THE WIND.
ALTHOUGH the Princess Hilda and her two little
brothers were no longer the best children in the
world, they were pretty good children as the world
goes, and got along tolerably well together on
the whole. But whenever the wind blew from the
north, where Rumpty-Dudget's tower stood, Prin-
cess Hilda ordered her brothers about, and tried
to make them do what she pleased, whether they
liked it or not; and Prince Frank wanted some of
the good and pretty things that belonged to his
brother and sister, in addition to what were already
his; and Prince Henry would not do what he was
told to do, and would do what he was told
not to do. And then, too, the spot on Prin-
cess Hilda's forehead, and on Prince Frank's nose,
and on Prince Henry's chin, became blacker and
blacker, .and hotter and hotter, until at last the
children were ready to cry from pain and vexation.
But as soon as the wind blew from the south, where
Fairy Land was, the spots began to grow dim, and
the heat to lessen, until at last the children hardly
felt or noticed them any more. Yet they never
disappeared altogether; and neither the cat nor
the fairy aunt could do anything to drive them
away. But the cat used to warn Princess Hilda
and her two brothers that unless they could make
the wind blow always from the south, the thousand
and first corner in Rumpty-Dudget's tower would
be filled at last. And when, at night, their fairy
aunt flew in through the round window and sat on
their bedside, and whispered stories about Fairy
Land into their ears, and they would ask her in
their sleep to take them all three in her arms and
carry them over the tops of the forest-trees to her
beautiful home far away on the other side, she
would shake her head and say:
"As long as those spots are on your faces, I
cannot carry you to my home, for a part of each
of you belongs to Rumpty-Dudget, and he will hold
on to it in spite of all I can do. But when Hilda
becomes a horse, and Frank a stick of fire-wood,
and Henry a violin, then Rumpty-Dudget will lose


his power over you, and the spots will vanish, and
I will take you all three in my arms, and fly with





J *J
-. -











,! ': "L' I -


.1,


AP"Zi~
Il~i T~a


"NEARER AND NEARER TO THE HEDGE." [PAGE 202.]

you over the tops of the trees to Fairy Land,
where we will live happily forever after."
When the three children heard this, they were
puzzled to know what to do; for how could a little
princess become a horse, or two little princes a
stick of fire-wood and a violin? But that their fairy
aunt would not tell them.
It can only happen when the wind blows always
from the south, as the cat told you," said she.
"But how can we make the wind blow always
from the south ?" asked they.
At that, the fairy aunt touched each of them on
the heart, and smiled, and shook her head; and
no other answer would she give; so they were no
wiser than before.
Thus time went steadily on, to-morrow going
before to-day, and yesterday following behind, until
a year was past, and Rumpty-Dudget's birthday
came round once more.
"I must leave you alone to-morrow," said the
cat the day before, from sunrise to sunset; but
if you are careful to do as I tell you, all will be well.
Do not go into the garden; do not touch the
black ball that lies on the table in the nursery;
and do not jump against the north wind."
Just as he finished saying these things, he sprang
out of the room and disappeared.
All the next morning the children remembered
what Tom, the cat, had told them; they played
quietly in the palace, and did not touch the black







WINTER.


ball that lay on the nursery table. But when the
afternoon came, Princess Hilda began to be tired
of staying shut up so long, when out in the garden
it was warm and pleasant, and the wind blew from
the south. And Prince Frank began to be tired
of his own playthings, and to wish that he might
have the pretty, black ball, to toss up in the air and
catch again. And Prince Henry began to be tired
of doing what he -was told, and wished the wind
would blow from the north, so that he might jump
against it. At last they could bear it no longer;
so Princess Hilda stood up and said:
"Frank and Henry, I order you to come out
with me into the garden!" And out they went;
and as they passed through the nursery, Prince
Henry knocked the black ball off the table, and
Prince Frank picked it up and put it in his pocket.
But by the time they got to the broad lawn in the
center of the garden, the three spots on their faces
were blacker than ink and hotter than pepper;
and, strange to say, the wind, which hitherto had
blown from the south, now changed about and


came from the north, where Rumpty-Dudget's
tower stood. Nevertheless, the children ran about
the grass, tossing the black ball from one to another,
and did not notice that every time it fell to the
ground, it struck a little nearer the hedge which
divided Rumpty-Dudget's land from the Queen's
garden. At last Prince Frank got the ball, and
kept tossing it up in the air, and catching it again
all by himself, without letting the others take their
turns. But they ran after him to get it away, and
all three raced to and fro, without noticing that at
every turn they were nearer and nearer to the high
hedge, and to the round opening that led into
Rumpty-Dudget's ground. After a long chase,
Princess Hilda and Prince Henry caught up with
Prince Frank, and would have taken the black ball
away from him; but he gave it a great toss upward,
and it flew clear over the high hedge and came
down bounce upon the other side. Just then the
great red ball of the sun dropped out of a gray
cloud, and rested on the edge of the world. It
wanted three minutes to sunset.


(To be continued.)


202


[JANUARY,







PETE'S CHRISTMAS-TREE.



PETE'S CHRISTMAS-TREE.

BY J. H. ANDREWS.


THERE was a boy whose name was Pete,-
(I hope he isn't here, because
I would n't dare to tell this if he was.)
I think you'd better guess the street
He lived in, and the village too as well,-
For I sha'n't tell.
And this boy Pete felt very sad one day;
He could n't play;
He left the house and wandered far away;
He left his kite and ball;
He didn't feed his rocking-horse at all;
He did n't even whistle for the dog,
But went out through the gate.
And toward the wood with melancholy jog
He did perambulate.
(What that word means 't would take too long
to state.)
So-not to keep you in suspense-
He reached a spot where trees grew tall and
dense,
And clambering upon an old rail-fence,
He sat him down to meditate.

'T was in September,-apples every one
Were ripening in the sun;
And bobolinks had hardly yet begun
To think of leaving home;
The fields were still in bloom;
The butterflies and bees and all such things
Were practicing their wings;
And every breeze
Startled the squirrels, who, with merry pranks,
Were playing hide-and-seek among the trees.
Nature was gay !
(As grown-up people say.)
But Peter seemed to feel the other way:
Poor lad !
He did n't mind the beauty of the day;
And nothing made him glad.
With fingers in his hair he sat alone,-
And if you'd been
Among the bushes, where he could n't see,
You would have heard him say in mournful tone:
"Oh, deaf !
Why is it Christmas comes but once a year?
Now, look at Sundays,-there's no end to them,-
I don't know who's to blame,-
They keep a-coming every little while;-
I' got my rocking-horse the other day
To take a drive;
And,-sure as I'm alive !-
I'd hardly traveled half a mile,


When mother called out: 'Say,
Peter, just put that hobby-horse away;
It's Sunday now, you know you mustn't play.'


.-


V --L ~ U


"HE SAT HIM DOWN TO MEDITATE."
Yes Sunday every day or two.
But Christmases,-My aint they few !
Here I've been waiting,
And calculating
What I would do
Next Christmas-time; and now I've found
It's three months 'fore it comes around!
Three months !-oh, dear!-
Why don't they have it more than once a year!"
Thus Peter did soliloquize,-
His hands upon his eyes,-
Meanwhile, he tries
(With such a frown !)
To kick the old fence down:-
But fails,-
Kicking his boot-heel off against the rails.
There is no doubt
But Peter felt uncommonly put out.
He sat down on a stone-
When something brought
A smile upon his face,-the frown was gone,-
And up he started. "Well, I've got it now,"








PETE'S CHRISTMAS-TREE.


He said. "I thought, somehow,
I might arrange
To have a change
About these Christmas days."
"And now," he says,
"I'll do this thing: Because
I do not wonder that old Santa Claus
Comes only once a year. It's plain to me;
For,-can't I see
He does n't come at all, except they fix a tree ?
'T is very queer
They fix it only once a year;
(How little these old people know I
I'll teach them something when I grow.)
But I wont wait till then;
These grown-up men
May have their Christmas once a year; but I,
I'll have a dozen if I wish. I'll try
A Christmas-tree to-morrow; if they wont
Help me, I'11 have it on my own account!
To-morrow's just the day !
The old folks will be gone away
To visit Uncle Ephraim on the hill;
I'll have a tree to-morrow,-that I will.
Think of the boys
Next morning when I carry out the toys:-
Wont their eyes open wide!
And then, beside,
To fool old Santa Claus,-oh, what a joke!"
Thus Peter spoke,


Full half the night awake he lay,
And waited for the day;
Then fell asleep to dream
About his wondrous scheme.
When the bell sounded
For breakfast, out of bed he bounded.
He laughed, of course,
To see his brother harnessing the horse;
And to himself he said:
"I'll hide the toys well underneath the bed."
When he was dressed,
He found his parents in their Sunday best,
Beside the table.
Pete, who was hardly able
To eat at all that day,
Soon slipped away,-
Went out-of-doors.-
Drove up the gig,-offered to hold the horse;
And when he saw the old folks safely in,
How Pete did grin!
How he rolled over on the ground
Till his head whirled around
With dizz'ness.
"And now," said Pete, to business !"

'Tis sad, but I must tell it.
Pete soon secured the ax,
And making sundry tacks
About the yard, he came upon a tree
(As fine a spruce as people ever see),


IR I















And, turning on his one heel, homeward sped, And with most vigorous hacks
Wishing 'twere night, and he were safe in bed. He tried to fell it.
Pete never worked so hard before;
I- -"

















Well, night did come at last; he ran upstairs. And I '11 not dare to say
(I fear he rather hurried through his prayers.) How soon that Christmas-tree was on its way
(I fear he rather hurried through his prayers.) How soon that Christmas-tree was on its way


[JANUARY,






PETE'S CHRISTMAS-TREE.


Toward the front hall door.
More time was spent
In getting the long branches bent


"AND TUGGED TILL IN IT WENT."

Between the casing;
The tree, in passing,
Tore off long strips of paint,
But Peter was intent
Upon his work, and tugged, till in it went.
He dragged it through the hall,
Then up the stairs,
And stood it in his bedroom, againstt the wall,
Till he could cut, for twine,
Some rope from the clothes-line,
With which he tied it upright, twixtt two chairs
And (must I tell
What then befell?)
Throughout and 'round the house
He darted like a mouse.
Half laughing, half afraid,
Softly,-yet swiftly as a well-played jig;
Making a careful and all-searching raid
That Christmas-tree to rig!
For," said he, as he ran,
I'll fix it as I can;
I '11 do my best,
And leave old Santa Claus to do the rest."
He ravaged all the house,
And tumbled drawers about,
Turned closets inside out,
For pretty ornaments to deck the boughs.


i --


X879.]


He took the vases,
And all, the jewelry from out the cases.
Bottles of sweet perfume,
Took pictures from their places,
And hurried to his room.
I can't name all the things
Which up the stairs he brings,
Laughing so merrily;
Nor how he hangs them up upon the tree,
And fastens them with strings;
Nor how he handles
The tallow candles,
And decks the tree in genuine Christmas state-
All ready to illuminate!

At last the old folks came home tired;
Pete's mother anxiously inquired:
"Well, Peter, been at work? You 're tired,
too?"
" Oh, some," he said: "I 'm very glad I 'm
through."
"That's right, my boy," the father made reply,
" You '11 be the man to make your parents proud;
The good time's coming, Peter, by and by."







I' j i '-







I 'I
..0


















Yes, so is Christmas," murmured Pete,-not
loud.
It was n't long before he said:







PETE'S CHRISTMAS-TREE.


"I guess I 'll go to bed."
And with a heart which beat
With glorious anticipations, Pete
Leaped up the stairs, thinking what lay ahead.
He finds his room, and listens long, until
The house is still;
Then creeps along the floor,
And feels the door;
He strikes a match,
And fastens down the catch;


So Pete kept guard, in silence crouching,
The dark hole in the fire-place watching.
While ever and again his heart beat faster.
At some slight cracking of the plaster,
Or scratching of a rat,-
And all was stillness after that.
'T was very hard to keep from choking,
The candles, somehow, took to smoking,
When suddenly Pete heard
A sort of fluttering.


A HOST OF THINGS WITH WINGS


Then, carefully the bolt he draws,-
The fire-board 's down in silence most amazing,
He sets the candles blazing.
"There, now," he says, we 'll lay for Santa
Claus !"
I don't propose to say
How long he lay;
Nor can I tell precisely what occurred.
For something like an hour or more
Stretched out upon the bedroom floor,
Pete kept awake but never stirred.
Anxious for what should come.
Like a starved cat, that long has waited
With eager ears and eyes dilated
Before some mouse's home.


Hist !" said he, muttering;
That 's he,
And now I 'll see
The load of toys he brings."
Then down the chimney the soot came dropping,
And into the room without any stopping
There burst a host of things
With wings!
Pete's eye with terror the vision follows,-
A great black brood of chimney swallows i
And the rapid rate
At which they whirled about Pete's pate
I could n't begin to calculate.


Whew !-!-!-!


[JANUARY,






"SIXTY MINUTES MAKE AN HOUR."


How they flew !
While every candle-flame burned blue.
How Pete did stare,
And how his hair
Began to rise,-
And how his eyes
Stood out from his head in mute surprise;
And how, 'mid the terrible candle flare,
And the swallows whizzing through the air,
He jumped, when his father cried,
As he battered the door outside,
" Why, Pete what are you doin'?"
What a crash !
When the luckless youngster made a dash
For the door, and stumbling over a chair,
That Christmas-tree right then and there,
Came down in a fearful ruin !
I think I '11 drop the story here;
But, if you 'd like to drop a tear,
It would n't be difficult, could you see
How Peter's father tenderly
Lifted his son upon his knee,
And used a twig from that green tree.
He used it in such a generous way
That Peter remembered his Christmas day,
And sometime after was heard to say
That he 'd be a dunce
If he wanted that Christmas more than once.
Since that famous night,
He never has taken a patent right


.-
.-- -- -

"A TWIG FROM THAT GREEN TREE.'

For the Christmas he' then invented.
And even now that he 's grown a man
He keeps his Christmas, and seems contented
To follow the good old plan.


"SIXTY MINUTES MAKE AN HOUR."

iiT, AR -Ir' EA -c T I VrmrNTfE


-, IXTY seconds make a min-
-- --iii--t ute,-sixty minutes make
Si an hour," sang brown
I haired Nellie, on the after-
noon of the very last day
of the year, as she rocked
." to and fro in her small
rocking g-chair,-a gift from
"1 Santa Claus,-beating her
breast with her little fist as though to beat the
lesson so firmly in that it never could get out again
by any chance (I think it would have been far more
sensible to have pounded on her head for that pur-
pose),-" sixty seconds make a minute,-sixty min-
utes make an hour," over and over again, until the
childish voice grew fainter and fainter, and the last
"hour" never got farther than "ou."


Then Nellie ceased rocking, and her head fell
back against the pretty scarlet and green tidy"
which she had found on her Christmas Tree, and
the dark-brown curls fell over the dark-brown eyes,
and she began to think of nothing at all. And
while she was quietly thinking of nothing at all,
she suddenly heard, to her great amazement, a tiny
voice-as clear and sweet as the tinkling of the silver
bell that hung from the necklace of Snow-and-
cream," her favorite cat-repeat the words, Sixty
minutes make an hour," and peeping through the
cloud of hair that veiled her eyes, she saw a wee
figure standing before her, dressed in white, with a
daisy in its bosom, and a snowdrop t lii,', to its
pale, golden curls.
It had a round, cheery, baby-face, with a dimple
in one rosy cheek, and another in the rosy chin,


207


~I ~lllrur .







"SIXTY MINUTES MAKE AN HOUR."


and its eyes were as blue as the eyes of a kitten
when it is only a few weeks old.
Dancing in at a hole in one of the window-panes,
and thence to the floor on a long, slanting sun-
beam, came other wee figures, followed by still
smaller ones, and the smaller ones followed again
by comical mites no higher than Nellie's new silver
thimble.
Oh, you darlings !" ciied Nellie, clapping her
hands; "how glad I am to see you! Are you
fairies ?"
"No, dear," replied the baby-faced one, with
a bright smile. We are Hours, Minutes, and
Seconds, and we belong to the year that is almost
gone. I don't suppose you can remember the
Minutes and Seconds, your acquaintance with them
was so very slight; they stay such a short time, no
one can become well acquainted with them, sixty
minutes and three thousand and six hundred
seconds coming and going during the visit of one
hour; but I am sure you can remember me and
my sisters and cousins,-that is, some of us. It
would be impossible for you to remember us all,
of course."
Why, how many sisters and cousins have you,
you cunning tot ?" asked Nellie.
Twenty-three sisters, and eight thousand seven
hundred and thirty-six cousins," answered the
tot.
"Good gracious! and my stars!" exclaimed
Nellie. What a awful,-a very awful large
family I never heard of such a thing. It stands
to reason"-Nellie borrowed this expression from
her papa-" that I could n't remember-such a
young memory as I have-only six, going on seven
-the half or quarter of so many hundreds and thou-
sands, even if I'd met them all, which I don't
believe I have."
That's just what I was about to say," said the
Hour, shaking its light curls softly, "we don't
expect you to remember very many of us, and
you're right in thinking you have not known us
all. In fact, but half of our number have been
introduced to you. The other half glided silently
by, while you were sleeping, and some of us were
so much alike that you could n't tell us apart, and
a few of our relations have yet to visit you,-that is,
if you stay up long enough to receive them. The
last will fly away as the clock strikes twelve, and
the midnight bells ring merrily to welcome the
birth of the New Year."
Oh dear, no," said Nellie; I sha' n't see that
one. I go to bed zackly eight, 'less on par-tic-u-
lar 'casions, and then nine; but I don't think this
is a par-tic-u-lar 'casion for me. But you have n't
told me who you are, yet?"
I am the Hour that was with you the morning,


nearly a year ago, when your baby-brother broke
the beautiful wax doll Santa Claus had brought
you, and you forced back the tears when you saw
his rosebud mouth begin to tremble, and taking
him in your arms told him 'Baa, baa, black sheep,'
until he fell asleep."
I remember," said Nellie, her face all aglow,
" and mamma kissed me as she took baby Willie
from me, and called me her 'own brave little
daughter.'"
And I am the Hour," said a small, grave body
in a plain, dull, gray dress that had n't even a bow
of ribbon on it,-with marks of tears on its cheeks,
and a funny red tip to its dot of a nose, "that stayed
with you when you were being punished for telling

Don't mention it, please," interrupted a bright-
faced, pleasant-looking Hour, in a sky-blue robe
with a wreath of the tiniest chrysanthemums around
its head. "What's the use of talking about it?
It is n't a cheerful subject, and I 've no doubt
Nellie always told the truth after that. I heard her
sobs of repentance, and her vows 'never-never
-never' to do so again, and saw the smiles come
back and chase away the clouds, when all was joy
and peace once more."
"I danced with her in the meadow," sang a
graceful elf standing on the tips of its toes, and
holding its arms above its head as though it were
about to fly, one summer day,-the day she
gathered daisies and dandelions,-and sang a sweet
and joyous song in answer to the bird that had a
nest in the apple-tree. In that nest were four baby-
birds, and they peeped out and twittered when
they heard Nellie sing."
"Yes, yes, indeed!" cried Nellie, "and what
big mouths they had !"
And I, Nellie dear," said a queer sprite with a
pointed cap, and on the point a jolly little bell,
" fell into the brook with you one August afternoon
when you were trying to catch a frog. Kerchunk!
how scared the frog-folks were when you tumbled
in among them!" and the sprite laughed, and the
jolly little bell laughed, and Nellie laughed loudest
of all.
"And I," cried another, tossing its head and try-
ing to pout, "sat by your side when you were sent
from the supper-table because you were naughty
and would n't say 'please.'"
"And I," lisped a roly-poly, cunning wee thing,
"when you said 'Please-please-please,' and
grandma gave you a slice of bread-and-butter, but
you could n't see the butter for the apple-jelly."
I remember, I remember," said Nellie; I
wish I had some now."
I was with you, dear one," murmured an Hour,
with kind, gentle eyes, and low, pitying voice,


[JANUARY,







SIXTY MINUTES MAKE AN HOUR.


" when your poor head ached with a terrible pain, brothers just before you hung up your stocking on
and between your moans, you made a prayer to Christmas Eve."
the good God for help." And I saw you take it down the next morning


'I .. ---


,^ r, -! .
i :.'


.--
i,.;. -- .-_ ? ?_ ^ -*: _\ _





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

-_ .:, _


7-1
.0,





4
,r ~-;- -#S-ii-

~~ "-- --


THE HOURS SPEAK TO NELLIE.

I am the Hour," said a merry, twinkling, bird- filled almost to bursting with good things to
like spirit with hollyberries hanging all over it, eat," said another, with a face like a doll's plum-
"that looked on when you played games with your pudding, and little black currants for eyes.
VOL. VI.--5.


, ... .


:" r :
, -.'.~.;.,,-


209


---. -






[JANUARY,


A JOLLY FELLOWSHIP.


"And I ;" but at that moment Nellie's And when Nellie in a great hurry leaned out to
arithmetic fell from her lap with a bang and away look after them, she saw nothing but the snow, and
fled the Seconds, and Minutes, and Hours, up the two street-sparrows picking up crumbs, and chat-
long, slanting sunbeam, and out of the window. tering noisily to each other.






A JOLLY FELLOWSHIP.

BY FRANK R. STOCKTON.


CHAPTER V.
S ST---'TiT T ''.N MARCO.


~---

I- ,'


S .. I :. on our storm-
:. nr, non a Tues-
I- ihI, about nine
.:.:k1 : had a latch-
:-,. .. could come
S !1.....1: r I we pleased.

: ...1 I !. ..-i the grapnel,
y j- i !' .1 i. 's cotton wool.
i .' ."- i'.'l ..... :papersaround
I.i.-: ii, and made
f, o }1., -: I -: *table packages
I .. l.: 'I.e did not go
.:1.. i. .i.: sea-wall, but
,1..:..1 n.:.und through
..: .-.! I, inner streets.
It seemed to us like a curi-
ous expedition. We were not going to do anything
wrong, but we had no idea what the United States
Government would think about it. We came down
to the fort on its landward side, but our attack was
to be made upon the water-front, and so we went
round that way, on the side farthest from the
town. There were several people about yet, and
we had to wait. We dropped our packages into
the moat, and walked about on the water-battery,
which is between the harbor and the moat, and is
used as a sort of pleasure-ground by the people of
the town. It was a pretty dark night, although
the stars were out, and the last of the promenaders
soon went home; and then, after giving them
about ten minutes to get entirely out of sight and
hearing, we jumped down into the moat, which is
only five or six feet below the water-battery, and,


taking our packages, went over to that part of
the wall which we had fixed upon for our assault.
We fastened the rope to the grapnel, and then
Rectus stood back while I made ready for the
throw. It was a pretty big throw, almost straight
up in the air, but I was strong, and was used to
pitching, and all that sort of thing. I coiled the
rope on the ground, took the loose end of it firmly
in my left hand, and then, letting the grapnel hang
from my right hand until it nearly touched the
ground, I swung it round and round, perpendicu-
larly, and when it had gone round three or four
times, I gave it a tremendous hurl upward.
It rose beautifully, like a rocket, and fell inside
of the ramparts, making only a little thud of a
sound.
First-rate!" said Rectus, softly; and I felt
pretty proud myself.
I pulled on the rope, and found the grapnel had
caught. I hung with my whole weight on it, but
it held splendidly.
Now, then," said I to Rectus, you can climb
up. Go slowly and be very careful. There's no
hurry. And mind you take a good hold when you
get to the top."
We had arranged that Rectus was to go first.
This did not look very brave on my part, but I felt
that I wanted to be under him, while he was climb-
ing, so that I could break his fall if he should slip
down. It would not be exactly a perpendicular
fall, for the wall slanted a little, but it would be
bad enough. However, I had climbed up worse
places than that, and Rectus was very nimble; so,
I felt there was no great danger.
Up he went, hand over hand, and putting his
toes into nicks every now and then, thereby helping
himself very much. He took it slowly and easily,
and I felt sure he would be all right. As I looked
at him, climbing up there in the darkness, while I
was standing below holding the rope so that it
should not swing, I could not help thinking that I
was a pretty curious kind of a tutor for.a boy.
However, I was taking all the care of him that I






A JOLLY FELLOWSHIP.


could, and if he came down, he'd probably hurt
me worse than he would hurt himself. Besides, I
had no reason to suppose that old Mr. Colbert ob-
jected to a little fun. Then I began to think of
Mrs. Colbert, and while I was thinking of her, and
looking up at Rectus, I was amazed to see him
going up quite rapidly, while the end of the rope
slipped through my fingers. Up he went, and
when I ran back, I could see a dark figure on the
wall, above him. Somebody was pulling him up !
In a very few moments he disappeared over the
top, rope and all !
Now, I was truly frightened. What might hap-
pen to the boy?
I was about to shout, but on second thoughts,
.decided to keep quiet; yet I instantly made up
my mind, that if I did n't see nor hear from him
pretty soon, I would run around to the gate and
bang up the people inside. However, it was not
necessary for me to trouble myself, for, in a minute,
the rope came down again, and I took hold of it.
I pulled on it, and found it all firm, and then I
went up. I climbed up pretty fast, and two or
three times I felt a tug, as if somebody above was
trying to pull me up. But it was of no use, for I
was a great deal stouter and heavier than Rectus,
who was a light, slim'boy. But as I neared the
top, a hand came down, and clutched me by the
collar, and some one, with a powerful arm and
grip, helped me over the top of the wall. There
stood Rectus, all right, and the fellow who had
helped us up was the big Indian, "Maiden's Heart."
I looked at Rectus, and he whispered:
"He says there 's a sentinel down there in the
square."
At this, Maiden's Heart bobbed his head two or
three times, and, motioning to us to crouch down,
he crept quietly over to the inner wall of the ram-
parts, and looked down.
What shall we say we came for ?" I whispered,
,quickly.
I don't know," said Rectus.
"Well, we must think of something," I said,
or we shall look like fools."
But before we had time to think, Maiden's Heart
crept back. He put his finger on his lips, and,
beckoning us to follow him, he led the way to a
-corner of the fort near one of the lookout towers.
We followed as quietly as we could, and then we
all three slipped into the narrow entrance to the
tower, the Indian motioning us to go first. When
we two stood inside of the little round tower, old
Maiden's Heart planted himself before us in the
passage, and waited to hear what we had to say.
But we could n't think of anything to say. Di-
rectly, however, I thought I must do something, so
I whispered to the Indian.


"Does the sentry ever come up here?"
He seemed to catch my meaning.
"I go watch," he said. "Come back. Tell
you." And off he stole, making no more noise
than a cat.
"Bother onhim! "said Rectus. "If I'd known
he was up here, I would never have come."
I reckon not," said I. But now that we have
come, what are we going to do or' say. That
fellow evidently thinks we have some big project
on hand, and he 's ready to help us; we must
be careful, or he 'll rush down and murder the
sentinel."
I 'm sure I don't know what to say to him,"
said Rectus. "We ought to have thought of this
before. I suppose it would be of no use to men-
tion my poster to him."
"No, indeed," said I, "he 'd never understand
that. And, besides, there 's a man down there.
Let's peep out and see what he 's doing."
So we crept to the entrance of the passage, and
saw Maiden's Heart, crouched near the top of the
inclined plane which serves as a stair-way from the
square to the ramparts, and looking over the low
wall, evidently watching the sentry.
"I 'I tell you what let's do," said Rectus.
"Let's make a rush for our rope, and get out
of this."
No, sir! said I. "We 'd break our necks,
if we tried to hurry down that rope. Don't think
of anything of that kind. And besides, we could
n't both get down before he 'd see us."
In a few minutes, Maiden's Heart crept quickly
back to us, and seemed surprised that we had left
our hiding-place. He motioned us farther back
into the passage, and slipped in himself.
We did not have time to ask any questions before
we heard the sentry coming up the stair-way, which
was near our corner. When he reached the top,
he walked away from us over toward the Indian bar-
racks, which were on the ramparts, at the other
end of the fort. As soon as he reached the bar-
racks, Maiden's Heart took me by the arm and
Rectus by the collar, and hurried us to the stair-
way, and then down as fast as we could go. He
made no noise himself, but Rectus and I clumped
a good deal. We had to wear our shoes, for the
place was paved with rough concrete and oyster-
shells.
The sentry evidently heard the clumping, for he
came running down after us, and caught up to us
almost as soon as we reached the square.
"Eugh!" said he, for he was an Indian; and
he ran in front of us, and held his musket hori-
zontally before us. Of course we stopped. And
then, as there was nothing else that seemed proper
to do, we held out our hands and said, "How?"








A JOLLY FELLOWSHIP.


The sentinel took his gun in his left hand, and
shook hands with us. Then Maiden's Heart, who
probably remembered that he had omitted this
ceremony, also shook hands with us and said:
" How? "
The two Indians now began to jabber to each
other, in a low voice; but we could not, of course,
make out what they said, and I don't think they
were able to imagine what we intended to do.
We were standing near the inner door of the great
entrance-way, and into this they now marched us.
There was a lamp burning on a table.
Said Rectus : I guess they 're going to put us
out of the front door;" but he was mistaken.
They walked us into a dark room, on one side of
the hall, and Maiden's Heart said to us: "Stay here,
Him mad. I come back. Keep still," and then
he went out, probably to discuss with the sentinel
the nature of our conspiracy. It was very dark in
this room, and, at first, we could n't see anything
at all; but we soon found, from the
smell of the bread, that we were in
the kitchen or bakery. We had
been here before, and had seen the
head-cook, a ferocious Indian squaw -
who had been taken in the act of
butchering a poor emigrant woman
on the plains. She always seemed
sullen and savage, and never said a
word to anybody. We hoped she -
was n't in here now.
"I did n't know they had Indian .
sentinels," said Rectus. That
seems a little curious to me. I sup-
pose they set the innocent ones to
watch the guilty."
"I don't believe that would work,"
said I; for the innocent chaps
would want to get away, just as much
as the others. I guess they make
'em take turns to stand guard. There
has to be a sentinel in a fort, you
know, and I suppose these fellows
are learning the business."
We did n't settle this question,
nor the more important one of our
reason for this visit; for, at this mo-
ment, Maiden's Heart came back,
carrying the lamp. He looked at us in a curious
way, and then he said:
What you want?"
I could n't think of any good answer to this ques-
tion, but Rectus whispered to me:
Got any money with you?"
Yes," said I.
Let's buy some sea-beans," said Rectus.
All right," I answered.


"Sea-beans?" said Maiden's Heart, who had
caught the word; you want sea-beans ?"
Yes," said Rectus, "if you have any good
ones."
At this, the Indian conducted us into the hall,
put the lamp on the table, and took three or four
sea-beans from his pocket. They were very nice
ones, and beautifully polished.
"Good," said I; we'll take these. How
much, Maiden's Heart ?"
Fifty cents," said the Indian.
For all?" I asked.
No. No. For one. Four beans two dollar."
We both exclaimed at this, for it was double the
regular price of the beans.
"All right," said Maiden's Heart. Twenty-
five cents, day-time. Fifty cents, night."
We looked at each other, and concluded to pay
the price and depart. I gave him two dollars, and
asked him to open the gate and let us out.


"ANOTHER BEAN?"
He grinned.
"No. No. We got no key. Captain got key.
Come up wall. Go down wall."
At this, we walked out into the square, and were
about to ascend the inclined plane when the sen-
tinel came up and stopped us. Thereupon a low
conversation ensued between him and Maiden's
Heart, at the end of which the sentry put his hand
into his pocket and pulled out three beans, which he


[JANUARY,


212






A JOLLY FELLOWSHIP.


held out to us. I did not hesitate, but gave him
a dollar and a half for them. He took the money
and let us pass on,-Maiden's Heart at my side.
You want more bean ?" said he.
"Oh no!" I answered. "No, indeed," said
Rectus.
When we reached the place where we had left
our apparatus, I swung the rope over the wall, and
hooking the grapnel firmly on the inside, prepared
to go down, for, as before, I wished to be under
Rectus, if he should slip. But Maiden's Heart put
his hand on my shoulder.
"Hold up!" he said. "I got anotherr bean.
Buy this."
Don't want it," said I.
"Yes. Yes," said Maiden's Heart, and he
coolly unhooked the grapnel from the wall.
I saw that it was of no use to contend with a big
fellow like that, as strong as two common men,
and I bought the bean.
I took the grapnel from Maiden's Heart, who
seemed to give it up reluctantly, and as I hooked
it on the wall, I felt a hand upon my shoulder. I
looked around, and saw the sentinel. He held out
to me another bean. It was too dark to see the
quality of it, but I thought it was very small.
However, I bought it. One of these fellows must
be treated as well as the other.
Maiden's Heart and the sentry were now feeling
nervously in their pockets.
I shook my head vigorously, and saying, "No
more -no more !" threw myself over the wall, and
seized the rope, Rectus holding the grapnel in its
place as I did so. As I let myself down from knot
to knot, a thought crossed my mind: How are
we going to get that grapnel after we both are
down ?"
It was a frightening thought. If the two Indians
should choose, they could keep the rope and grap-
nel, and, before morning, the whole posse of red-
skins mightbe off and away 1 I did not think about
their being so far from home and all that. I only
thought that they'd be glad to get out, and that
they would all come down our rope.
These reflections, which ran through my mind in
no time at all, were interrupted by Rectus, who
called down from the top of the wall, in a voice
that was a little too loud to be prudent:
Hurry I think he's found another bean !"
I was on the ground in a few moments, and then
Rectus came down. I called to him to come slowly
and be very careful, but I can't tell how relieved I
was when I saw him fairly over the wall and on his
way down.
When we both stood on the ground, I took hold
of the rope and shook it. I am not generally
nervous, but I was a little nervous then. I did not


shake the grapnel loose. Then I let the rope go
slack, for a foot or two, and gave it a big sweep to
one side. To my great delight, over came the
grapnel, nearly falling on our heads. I think I
saw Maiden's Heart make a grab at it as it came
over, but I am not sure. However, he poked his
head over the wall and said:
"Good-bye Come again."
We answered, Good-bye," but did n't say any-
thing about coming again.
As we hurried along homeward, Rectus said:
"If one of those Indians had kept us up there,
while the other one ran into the barracks and got a
fresh stock of sea-beans, they would have just
bankrupted us."
No, they would n't," I said. For I had n't
much more change with me. And if I had had it,
I would n't have given them any more. I 'd have
called up the captain first. The thing was getting
too expensive."
"Well, I 'm glad I 'm out of it," said Rectus.
SAnd I don't believe much in any of those Indians
being very innocent. I thought Maiden's Heart
was one of the best of them, but he 's a regular
rascal. He knew we wanted to back out of that
affair, and he just fleeced us."
"I believe he would rather have had our scalps
than our money, if he had had us out in his
country," I said.
That 's so," said Rectus. "A funny kind of a
maiden's heart he 's got."
We were both out of conceit with the noble red
man. Rectus took his proclamation out of his
pocket as we walked along the sea-wall, and tearing
it into little pieces, threw it into the water. When
we reached the steam-ship wharf, we walked out to
the end of it, to get rid of the rope and grapnel.
I whirled the grapnel round and round, and let the
whole thing fly far out into the harbor. It was a
sheer waste of a good strong rope, but we should
have had a dreary time getting the knots out of it.
After we got home I settled up our accounts,
and charged half the sea-beans to Rectus and half
to myself.
CHAPTER VI.
THE GIRL ON THE BEACH.
I WAS not very well satisfied with our trip over
the walls of San Marco. In the first place, when
the sea-beans, the rope and the grapnel were all
considered, it was a little too costly. In the second
place, I was not sure that I had been carrying out
my contract with Mr. Colbert in exactly the right
spirit; for although he had said nothing about my
duties, I knew that he expected me to take care of
his son, and paid me for that. And I felt pretty
sure that helping a fellow climb up a knotted rope







A JOLLY FELLOWSHIP.


into an old fort by night was not the best way of
taking care of him. The third thing that troubled
me in regard to this matter was the feeling I had
that Rectus had led me into it; that he had been
the leader and not I. Now, I did not intend
that anything of that kind should happen again.
I did not come out on this expedition to follow
Rectus around; indeed, it was to be quite the other
way. But, to tell the truth, I had not imagined
that he would ever try to make people follow him.
He never showed at school that such a thing was in
him. So, for these three reasons, I determined
that there were to be no more scrapes of that sort,
which generally came to nothing, after all.
For the next two or three days we roved around
the old town, and into two or three orange-groves,
and went out sailing with Mr. Cholott, who owned
a nice little yacht, or sail-boat, as we should call it,
up north.
The sailing here is just splendid, and, one morn-
ing, we thought we'd hire a boat for ourselves and
go out fishing somewhere. So we went down to
the yacht-club wharf to see about the boat that
belonged to old Menendez,-Rectus's Minorcan.
There were lots of sail-boats there as well as row-
boats, but we hunted up the craft we were after,
and, by good luck, found Menendez in her, bailing
her out.
So we engaged her, and he said he'd take us
over to the North Beach to fish for bass. That
suited us,-any beach and any kind of fish,-pro-
vided he'd hurry up and get his boat ready. While
he was scooping away, and we were standing on
the wharf watching him, along came Crowded Owl,
the young Indian we had always liked,-that is,
ever since we had known any of them. He came
up, said "How?" and shook hands, and then
pulled out some sea-beans. The sight of these
things seemed to make me sick, and as for Rectus,
he sung out:
Do' wan' 'em !"' so suddenly, that it seemed
like one word, and a pretty savage one at that.
Crowded Owl looked at me, but I shook my
head, and said, No, no, no Then he drew
himself up and just stood there. He seemed struck
dumb; but that did n't matter, as he could n't talk
to us, anyway. But he did n't go away. When
we walked farther up the wharf, he followed us, and
again offered us some beans. I began to get
angry, and said No pretty violently. At this,
he left us, but as we turned at the end of the
wharf, we saw him near the club-house, standing
and talking with Maiden's Heart.
I think it 's a shame to let those Indians wan-
der about here in that way," said Rectus. They
ought to be kept within bounds."
I could n't help laughing at this change of tune,


but said that I supposed only a few of them got
leave of absence at a time.
Well," said Rectus, there are some of them
that ought never to come out."
Hello said old Menendez, sticking his head
up above the edge of the wharf, "we're ready
now. Git aboard."
And so we scrambled down into the sail-boat,
and Menendez pushed off, while the two Indians
stood and watched us as we slowly moved away.
When we got fairly out, our sail filled, and we
went scudding away on a good wind. Then said
old Menendez, as he sat at the tiller:
"What were you hollerin' at them Injuns
about?"
I did n't know that we were hollerin'," said I,
"but they were bothering us to buy their sea-
beans."
"That's curious," he said. "They aint much
given to that sort of thing. But there 's no tellin'
nuthin about an Injun. If I had my way, I'd hang
every one of 'em."
"Rather a blood-thirsty sentiment," said I.
" Perhaps some of them don't deserve hanging."
Well, I 've never seen one o' that kind," said
he, "and I've seen lots of Injuns. I was in the
Seminole war, in this State, and was fighting' Injuns
from the beginning' to the end of it. And I know
all about how to treat the rascals. You must
hang 'em, or shoot 'em, as soon as you get hold
of 'em."
This aroused all the old sympathy for the
oppressed red man, that dwelt in the heart of
young Rectus, and he exclaimed:
That would be murder! There are always two
kinds of every sort of people-all are not bad. It
is wrong to condemn a whole division of the human
race that way."
You 're right about there bein' two kinds of
Injuns," said the old fellow. There's bad ones
and there 's wuss ones. I know what I 've seen
for myself. I'd hang'em all."
We debated this matter some time longer, but
we could make no impression on the old Minorcan.
For some reason or other, probably on account of
his sufferings or hardship in the war, he was
extremely bitter against all Indians. "You can't
tell me," he replied to all of our arguments, and I
think he completely destroyed all the sympathy
which Rectus had had for the once down-trodden
and deceived Minorcans, by this animosity toward
members of another race who were yet in captivity
and bondage. To be sure, there was a good deal
of difference in the two cases, but Rectus was n't
in the habit of turning up every question to look at
the bottom of it.
The North Beach is the seaward side of one of


[JANUARY,







A JOLLY FELLOWSHIP.


the islands that inclose the harbor, or the Matanzas
River, as it is called. We landed on the inland
side, and then walked over -to the beach, which is
very wide and smooth. Here we set to work to
fish. Old Menendez baited our lines, and told us
what to do. It was new sport to us.
First, we took off our shoes and stockings, and
rolled up our trousers, so as to wade out in the
shallow water. We each had a long line, one end
of which we tied around our waists. Menendez
had his tied to a button-hole of his coat, but he
thought he had better make our lines very safe, as
they belonged to him. There was a big hook and
a heavy lead to the other end of the line, with a
piece of fish for bait, and we swung the lead around
our heads, and threw it out into the surf, as far as
we could. I thought I was pretty good on the
throw, but I could n't begin to send my line out as
far as Menendez threw his. As for Rectus, he did
n't pretend to do much in the throwing business.
He whirled his line around in such a curious way,
that I was very much afraid he would hook him-
self in the ear. But Menendez put his line out for
him. He did n't want me to do it.
Then we stood there in the sand, with the water
nearly up to our knees every time the waves came
in, and waited for a bite. There was n't much
biting. Menendez said that the tide was too,low,
but I 've noticed that something is always too some-
thing, every time any one takes me out fishing, so
I did n't mind that.
Menendez did hook one fellow, I think, for he
gave a tremendous jerk at his line, and began to
skip in-shore as if he were but ten years old; but
it was of no use. The fish changed his mind.
Then we stood and waited a while longer, until,
all of a sudden, Rectus made a skip. But he went
the wrong way. Instead of skipping out of the
water, he skipped in. He went-in so far that he
got his trousers dripping wet.
Hello I shouted, "what's up ?"
He did n't say anything, but began to pull back,
and dig his heels into the sand. Old Menendez
and I saw, at the same moment, what was the mat-
ter, and we made a rush for him. I was nearest,
and got there first. I seized Rectus by the
shoulder, and pulled him back a little.
Whew-w said he ; how this twine cuts! "
Then I took hold of the line in front of him, and
there was no mistaking the fact,-he had a big fish
on the other end of it.
Run out," cried Menendez, who thought there
was no good of three fellows hauling on the line;
and out we ran.
When we had gone up the beach a good way, I
looked back and saw a rousing big fish flopping
about furiously in the shallow water.


Go on I" shouted Menendez; and we ran on
until we had pulled it high and dry up on the
sand.
Then Menendez fell afoul of it to take out the
hook, and we hurried back to see it. It was a
whopping big bass, and by the powerful way it
threw itself around on the sand, I did n't wonder
that Rectus ran into the water when he got the first
jerk.
Now, this was something like sport, and we all
felt encouraged, and went to work again with a
will, only Menendez untied the line from Rectus's
waist and fastened it to his button-hole.
It may pull out," he said ; "but, on the whole,
it's better to lose a fishin'-line than a boy."
We fished quietly and steadily for some time,
but got no more bites, when suddenly I heard some
one say behind me:
"They don't ever pull in !"
I turned around, and it was a girl. She was
standing there with a gentleman, -her father, I
soon found out,-and I don't know how long they
had been watching us. She was about thirteen
years old, and came over with her father in a sail-
boat. I remembered seeing them cruising around
as we were sailing over.
"They have n't got bites," said her father;
that's the reason they don't pull in."
It was very disagreeable to me, and I know it
was even more so to Rectus, to stand here and
have those strangers watch us fishing. If we had
not been barefooted and barelegged, we should not
have minded it so much. As for the old Minorcan,
I don't suppose he cared at all. I began to think
it was time to stop.
"As the tide's getting lower and lower," I said
to Menendez, I suppose our chances are getting
less and less."
Yes," said he, I reckon we 'd better shut
up shop before long."
Oh cried out the girl, "just look at that
fish Father Father just look at it. Did any
of you catch it ? I did n't see it till this minute. I
thought you hadn't caught any. If I only had a
fishing-line, now, I would like to catch just one
fish. Oh, father why did n't you bring a fishing-
line ?"
I didn't think of it, my dear," said he. In-
deed, I didn't know that there were any fish
here."
Old Menendez turned around and grinned, at
this, and I thought that here was a good chance to
stop fishing; so I offered to let the girl try my line
for a while if she wanted to.
It was certain enough that she wanted to, for she
was going to run right into the water to get it. But
I came out, and as her father said she might fish


1879.1







A JOLLY FELLOWSHIP.


if she didn't have to walk into the water, old
Menendez took a spare piece of line from his
pocket and tied it on to the end of mine, and he
put on some fresh bait and gave it a tremendous
send out into the surf. Then he put the other end
around the girl and tied it. I suppose he thought
that it did n't matter if a girl should be lost, but he
may have considered that her father was there to
seize her if she got jerked in.
She took hold of the line and stood on the edge
of the dry sand, ready to pull in the biggest kind
of a fish that might come along. I put on my
shoes and stockings, and Rectus his ; he 'd had
enough glory for one day. Old Menendez wound
up his line too, but that girl saw nothing of all
this. She just kept her eyes and her whole
mind centered on her line. At first, she talked
right straight ahead, asking what she should do
when it bit; how big we thought it would be; why
we did n't have a cork, and fifty other things, but
all without turning her head to the right or the left.
Then said her father:
My dear, you must n't talk; you will frighten
the fish. When persons fish, they always keep
perfectly quiet. You never heard me talking while
I was fishing. I fish a good deal when I am at
home," said he, turning to us, and I always
remain perfectly quiet."
Menendez laughed a little at this, and said that
he did n't believe the fish out there in the surf
would mind a little quiet chat; but the gentleman
said that he had always found it best to be just as
still as possible. The girl now shut her mouth
tight, and held herself more ready, if possible, than
ever, and I believe that if she had got a bite, she
would have jerked the fish's head off. We all
stood round her, and her father watched her as
earnestly as if she was about to graduate at a nor-
mal school.
We stood and waited and waited, and she did n't
move, and neither did the line. Menendez now
said he thought she might as well give it up. The
tide was too low, and it was pretty near dinner-
time, and, besides this, there was a shower coming
on.
"Oh no!" said she, "not just yet. I feel sure
I'll get a bite in a minute or two now. Just wait a
little longer."
And so it went on, every few minutes, until we
had waited about half an hour, and then Menendez
said he must go, but if the gentleman wanted to
buy the line, and stay there until the tide came in
again, he 'd sell it to him. At this, the girl's father
told her that she must stop, and so she very
dolefully let Menendez untie the line.
"It 's too bad she said, almost with tears in
her eyes. If they had only waited a few minutes


longer And then she ran up to Rectus and me,
and said:
"When are you coming out here again? Do
you think you will come to-morrow, or next day ?"
I don't know," said I. We have n't settled
our plans for to-morrow."
Oh, father father she cried, perhaps they
will come out here to-morrow, and you must get
me a fishing-line, and we will come and fish all day."
We did n't stay to hear what her father said, but
posted off to our boat, for we were all beginning to
feel pretty hungry. We took Rectus's fish along,
to give to our landlady. The gentleman and the
girl came close after us, as if they were afraid to be
left alone on the island. Their boat was hauled up
near ours, and we set off at pretty much the same
time.
We went ahead a little, and Menendez turned
around and called out to the gentleman that he 'd
better follow us, for there were some bad shoals in
this part of the harbor, and the tide was pretty low.
"All right, my hearty called out the gentle-
man. This is n't the first time I 've sailed in this
harbor. I guess I know where the shoals are," and
just at that minute he ran his boat hard and fast on
one of them.
He jumped up, and took an oar and pushed
and pushed; but it was of no good,-he was stuck
fast. By this time we had left him pretty far
behind; but we all had been watching, and Rectus
asked if we could n't go back and help him.
Well, I s'pose so," said Menendez; "but it 's
a shame to keep three decent people out of their
dinner for the sake of a man like that, who has n't
got sense enough to take good advice when it 's
give to him."
"We 'd better go," said I, and Menendez, in
no good humor, put his boat about. We found the
other boat aground, in the very worst way. The
old Minorcan said that he could see that sand-bar
through the water, and that they might as well
have run up on dry land. Better, for that matter,
because then we could have pushed her off.
"There aint nuthin to be done," he said, after
we had worked at the thing for a while, "but to
jist wait here till the tide turns. It 's pretty near
dead low now, an' you'll float off in an hour or two.'
This was cold comfort for the gentleman, espe-
cially as it was beginning to rain; but he did n't
seem a bit cast down. He laughed, and said:
"Well, I suppose it can't be helped; but I am
used to being out in all weathers. I can wait, just
as well as not. But I don't want my daughter
here to get wet, and she has no umbrella. Would
you mind taking her on your boat? When you
get to the town, she can run up to our hotel by
herself. She knows the way."


216,


JANUARY,







A JOLLY FELLOWS-HIP.


Of course we had no objection to this, and the
girl was helped aboard. Then we sailed off, and
the gentleman waved his hat to us. If I had been
in his place, I don't think I should have felt much
like waving my hat.
Menendez now said that he had an oil-skin coat
stowed away forward, and I got it and put it around


she did n't want me to go; but I went, and he
stuck fast coming back, because he never will listen
to anything anybody tells him, as mother and I
found out long ago. And here we are, almost at the
wharf! I did n't think we were anywhere near it."
Well, you see, sis, sich a steady gale o' talking ,
right behind the sail, is bound to hurry the boat


"READY TO PULL IN THE BIGGEST FISH THAT MIGHT COME ALONG."


the girl. She snuggled herself up in it as comfort-
ably as she could, and began to talk.
The way of it was this," she said. Father,
he said we'd go out sailing, and mother and I went
with him, and when we got down to the wharf,
there were a lot of boats, but they all had men to
them, and so father, he said he wanted to sail the
boat himself, and mother, she said that if he did
she would n't go; but he said pooh he could do
it as well as anybody, and was n't going to have any
man. So he got aboat without a man, and mother,


along. And now, s'pose you tell us your name,"
said Menendez.
My name 's Cornelia; but father, he calls me
Corny, which mother hates to hear the very sound
of," said she; and the rest of it is Mary Chipper-
ton. Father, he came down here because he had
a weak lung, and I 'm sure I don't see what good
it's going to do him to sit out there in the rain.
We '1l take a man next time. And father and I '11
be sure to be here early to-morrow to go out fishing
with you. Good-bye!"


217








218 A JOLLY FELLOWSHIP [JANUARY,


And with this, having mounted the steps to the
pier, off ran Miss Corny.
I would n't like to be the ole man o' that fam-
ily," said Mr. Menendez.
That night, after we had gone to bed, Rectus
began to talk. We generally went to sleep in pretty
short order; but the moon did not shine in our
windows now until quite late, and so we noticed for
the first time the curious way in which the light-
house-which stood almost opposite, on Anastasia
Island-brightened up the room, every minute or
two. It is a revolving light, and when the light
got on the landward side it gave us a flash, which
produced a very queer effect on the furniture, and
on Rectus's broadhat, which hung on the wall right
opposite the window. It seemed exactly as if this
hat was a sort of portable sun of a very mild power,
which warmed up, every now and then, and lighted
the room.
But Rectus did not talk long about this.
"I think," said he, that we have had about
enough of St. Augustine. There are too many
Indians and girls here."
And sea-beans, too, perhaps," said I. "But
I don't think there's any reason for going so soon.
I 'm going to settle those Indians, and you've only
seen one girl, and perhaps we '11 never see her
again."
Don't you believe that," said Rectus very sol-
emnly, and he turned over, either to ponder on the
matter, or to go to sleep. His remarks made me
imagine that perhaps he was one of those fellows
who soon get tired of a place and want to be moving
on. But that was n't my way, and I did n't intend
to let him hurry me. I think the Indians worried
him a good deal. He was afraid they would keep
on troubling us. But, as I had said, I had made
up my mind to settle the Indians. As for Corny, I
know he hated her. I don't believe he spoke a
word to her all the time we were with her.
The next morning, we talked over the Indian
question, and then went down to the fort. We had
n't been there for three or four days, but now we
had decided not to stand nagging by a couple of
red-skinned savages, but to go and see the captain
and tell him all about it. All except the proclama-
tion-Rectus would n't agree to have that brought
in at all. Mr. Cholott had introduced us to the
captain, and he was a first-rate fellow, and when we
told him how we had stormed his old fort, he laughed
and said he wondered we did n't break our necks,
and that the next time we did it he 'd put us in the
guard-house, sure.
That would be cheaper for you than buying so
many beans," he said.
As to the two Indians, he told us he would see to
it that they let us alone. He did n't think that


Maiden's Heart would ever harm us, for he was
more of a blower than anything else; but he said
that Crowded Owl was really one of the worst-tem-


"THE GENTLEMAN WAVED


HIS HAT TO US." [PAGE 217.]


pered Indians in the fort, and he advised us to have
nothing more to do with him, in any way.
All of this was very good of the captain, and we
were very glad we had gone to see him.
I tell you what it is," said Rectus, as we were
coming away, I don'tbelieve that any of these In-
dians are as innocent as they try to make out. Did
you ever see such a rascally set of faces ? "
Somehow or other, I seldom felt sorry when
Rectus changed his mind. I thought, indeed, that
he ought to change it as much as he could. And
yet, as I have said, he was a thoroughly good fel-
low. The trouble with him was that he was n't
used to making up his mind about things, and
didn't make a very good beginning at it.
The next day, we set out to explore Anastasia
Island, right opposite the town. It is a big island,
but we took our lunch and determined to do what
we could. We hired a boat and rowed over to the
mouth of a creek in the island. We went up this
creek, quite a long way, and landed at a little pier
where we made the boat fast. The man who
owned the boat told us just how to go. We -first
made a flying call at the coquina quarries, where
they dig the curious stuff of which the town is
built. This is formed of small shells, all conglom-
erated into one solid mass that becomes as hard as


7N /





- .. ,- -


-----
--
_'. -- I


218


[JANUARY,


A JOLLY FELLOWSHIP







A JOLLY FELLOWSHIP.


stone after it is exposed to the air. It must have
taken thousands of years for so many little shell
fish to pile themselves up into a quarrying-ground.
We now went over to the light-house and climbed
to the top of it, where we had a view that made
Rectus feel even better than he felt in the cemetery
at Savannah.
When we came down, we started for the beach
and stopped a little while at the old Spanish light-
house, which looked more like a cracker-bakery
than anything else, but I suppose it was good
enough for all the ships the Spaniards had to light
up. We would have cared more for the old light-
house if it had not had an inscription on it that
said it had been destroyed, and rebuilt by some
American. After that, we considered it merely in
the light of a chromo.
We had a good time on the island, and stayed
nearly all day. Toward the end of the afternoon,
we started back for the creek and our boat. We
had a long walk, for we had been exploring the
island pretty well, and when, at last, we reached
the creek, we saw that our boat was gone !
This was astounding. We could not make out
how the thing could have happened. The boat-
man, from whom we had hired it, had said that it
would be perfectly safe for us to leave the boat at
the landing if we tied her up well and hid the oars.
I had tied her up very well and we had hidden the
oars so carefully, under some bushes, that we found
them there when we went to look for them.
Could the old thing have floated off of itself? "
said Rectus.
"That couldn't have happened," I said. I
tied her hard and fast."
"But how could any one have taken her away
without oars ? asked Rectus.
Rectus," said I, don't let us have any more
riddles. Some one may have cut a pole and poled
her away, up or down the creek, or-- "
I'11 tell you," interrupted Rectus. Crowded
Owl! "
I did n't feel much like laughing, but I did laugh
a little.


Yes," I said. He probably swam over with
a pair of oars on purpose to steal our boat. But,
whether he did it or not, it 's very certain that
somebody has taken the boat, and there is n't any
way, that I see, of getting off this place to-night.
There'll be nobody going over so late in the
afternoon; except, to be sure, those men we saw
at the other end of the island with a flat-boat."
But that's away over at the upper end of the
island," said Rectus.
That's not so very far," said I. I wonder if
they have gone back yet ? If one of us could run
over there and ask them to send a boatman from
the town after us, we might get back by supper-
time."
Why not both of us ?" asked Rectus.
One of us should stay here to see if our boat
does come back. It must have been some one
from the island who took it, because any one from
the main-land would have brought his own boat."
"Very well," said Rectus. Let's toss up to
see who goes. The winner stays."
I pitched up a cent.
Heads," said Rectus.
Tails," said I.
Tails it was, and Rectus started off like a good
fellow.
I sat down and waited. I waited a long, long
time, and then I got up and walked up and down.
In about an hour I began to get anxious. It was
more than time for Rectus to return. The walk to
the end of the island and back was not much over
a mile-at least I supposed it was not. Could any-
thing have happened to the boy? It was not yet
sunset and I couldn't imagine what there was to
happen.
After waiting about half an hour longer, I
heard a distant sound of oars. I ran to the land-
ing and looked down the creek. A boat with a
man in it was approaching. When it came nearer,
I saw plainly that it was our boat. When it had
almost reached the landing, the man turned around,
and I was very much surprised, indeed, to see that
he was Mr. Chipperton.


(To be conlinued.)


219







OUR MUSIC PAGE.


NOCTURNE.*


W\V. K. BASSFORD.


FOR LITTLE HANDS,


Op. 78, No. i.


M1oderalo con esress.


=1 --------------------- -

p. fpioco ritard. a temfo.

-----------C

i..... ........ .
mf -














SCopyright, by WILA K. BASSFORD, 878- ----- --
*p Ci by -



Copyright, by WILLIuA K. BASSFORD, 1878.


220


[JANUARY,






1879.] FOR VERY LITTLE FOLK. 221



-- 2_-
-- -.- +- ~ -~ ... _-_ -- -_ _._ ..........,

A -

-,_ -, ,-L: -,
a--- .f.. -0- -. W __ ._..









-r---- --.-.----- ---------







-.- --o--+F--r-- --










THE LITTLE GIRL WHO WANTED TO GO TO
THE MOON.

ONCE there was a little girl, named May, who wanted to go to the
moon.
"It is bright and pretty up there," she said, as she stood on a chair
by the window and looked up into the sky, where the moon floated
about like a ball of pale fire; "and down here it is bed-time and dark, and
you jerk me so when you untie my apron and take off my shoes."
"Pooh!" said the nurse, "what a foolish little girl-why, it's cold
as ice in the sky, and, besides, who would ever undress you up there ?"
That's just it," said the child; "I never should have to be undressed.

I should be a dear little moon-fairy."
A dear little moon-goose, you mean," said nurse, crossly. "Now,
-7-


























11A dear little moon-goose, you mean," said nurse, crossly. INow,






222 FOR VERY LITTLE FOLK. [JANUARY,


Miss May, stop
your nonsense;
sit right down on
that chair and let
me take off your
shoes."
Oh, I don't
want to, please,"
said May, holding
s t fast to the win-
dow-bench and
S' g trying not to cry.
You must,"
Pr said nurse,-her
m name was Ann,
come, now,
u s Myou naughtylittle
i thing i



May; it is n't
naughty one bit
IOON PRETTY MOON HOW CAN I GO TO YOU?" to want to go to
the moon, where there aint any nurses nor nothing."
Fiddle for the moon !" snapped nurse, as she jerked little May from
the window. "Come, I must put you to bed."
Just then, Mamma walked in.
What! not undressed yet, and crying, my pet; what does this
mean ?"
"It means, ma'am, she 's got me near kilt with her foolishness, so she
has," said Ann.
Mamma took May in her arms and soon learned -the whole story.
Then, saying gently: You may go down-stairs, nurse, I '11 stay here,"
she undressed May, put a soft wrapper over the little one's night-dress,
and sat down with her close by the open window.
May felt better.
Now, May," said the mother, "let us play going to the moon."
Oh, oh, how nice!" cried May, clapping her little hands.


222


FOR VERY LITTLE FOLK.


[JANUARY,





FOR VERY LITTLE FOLK.


Play you were standing down there by the brook," said Mamma.
"Yes! yes!" cried May, delighted.
"And you raised your hands and called out: Moon! pretty moon!
how can I go to you?'
Then the moon would call back: 'Come by the bird-path, my dear;'
and you 'd say: 'But I can't. I 'm not a bird.'
"Then the moon would call: 'Come by the butterfly path!'
"' But I can't, dear moon,' you would say. 'I 'm not a butterfly.'
"Then the moon would call out: 'Down in the meadow is a funny
little fellow called Will-o'-the-Wisp. He carries a light. He will bring
you up to my
sky, little May.'"
At this, May
clung very tightly
to her mother.
Oh, no, no,"
said she; I'd be
almost afraid."
Then Mamma,
raising her voice,
called out: "She
would n't like that,
good moon. Is
there any other
way, please ?
Oh, oh,"
laughed little
May, "how funny! J
Now, tell me what
the moon says !"
Mamma lean-
ed a little out of
the bright win-
dow, and she and
May played they
were listening. WILL-O,-THE-WISP.
The moon says," said Mamma at last, that you must ask Will-o'-
the-Wisp to catch you some butterflies, and they will bring you up to her;
-or perhaps Puck, the fun-fairy, will catch some for you."






224 FOR VERY LITTLE FOLK. [JANUARY,


Oh, oh !" laughed May, I 'm afraid, again. The butterflies could n't
carry me, Mamma. Ask her, please, to tell me more about the fun-fairy."
Then they listened again, and soon Mamma said the moon wished
May to know that Puck, the fun-fairy, was a charming little fellow, up to
all sorts of mischief, but that he did n't know any better. He liked to
tease, sometimes. In the middle of the night he would whisper into the
old rooster's ear: "What's the matter with you ? Why don't you crow?
Don't you know it 's morning?" Then the cock would jump to his feet
and set up a great Cock-a-doodle-doo-oo !" and all the sleepy people
would turn in their beds and wonder what could be the matter.
Sometimes, the fun-fairy would go into dairies and turn the milk sour,
and sometimes he
would coax Jack
Frost to crack
dishes and pitch-
ers, and some-
times he would
trip up the fairies
who came out to
dance in the
moonlight, and
sometimes he
would hide things
away where no
i one could find
them. But most
of the time he
-was just flitting
about among the
flowers, teasing
the roses because

i lilies, and laugh-
ing at the lilies
becausetheywere
WILL-O -THE-WISP CHASING BUTTERFLIES.
not roses.
How queer!" said May. Tell the moon, please Mamma, that I like
the fun-fairy very much, but I 'm really 'most afraid to let him take me
up to her. He might play some trick on me, may be."





1879.] FOR VERY LITTLE FOLK. 225

So Mamma
told the moon
what May said,
word for word,
and they both
made- believe to
listen again.
It seemed quite
real to little May
by this time.
Soon Mamma
said the moon was
truly sorry that
May was so very
timid; but there s o
was no other way V '
left, excepting the
dream-path.
The dream-
path!" cried May-; ", .. '".
" Oh, wont that ,.n'
be nice! Put me
in bed quick,
Mamma, as soon "SHE WOULD DREAM THAT PUCK BROUGHT HER A BEAUTIFUL PAIR."
as I 've said my prayer, and I '11 dream that I am going right up to the
moon!"
Then May said her little prayer, and Mamma kissed her and put her
into her pretty white crib.
The little girl shut her blue eyes just as tight as she could, and made
up her mind she would dream ever so much.-First, that Puck, the fun-
fairy, caught butterflies for her, and then that he brought her a beautiful
pair, and then that they carried her right straight up to the moon, and
then

But no, the dream did n't go in that way at all. She dreamed something
about Ann, the nurse, and something about her little India rubber doll,
and something about her little dog, Florrie,-all mixed up together as
queerly as could be. And there was not a single (so she told her
mother)-not a single smitch of anything about the moon.
VOL. VI.--6.







JACK-IN-THE-PULPIT.


1g I '






DID it ever occur to you, my youngsters, that,
under Providence, each one of you is a sort of edi-
tor ? Yes, you're each about to begin a new volume
in the book of your life,-a book issued in twelve
monthly parts, too, like ST. NICHOLAS. A book
full of pictures, full of incidents, with riddle-box,-
ah, how many riddles!-and letter-box, complete;
a book named 1879."
Be careful, my hearties Keep your pages
straight and even; fill them carefully; don't let
your numbers be too heavy, too dull, too learned !
No, nor even too awfully, awfully good Don't let
them be too jolly, neither, too entertaining, nor too
sensational. Remember, the angels will see them,
and that all on earth who love you are your sub-
scribers; so are other human beings, in truth, for
it's a strange, mysterious fact that in one way or
another we, earthly children, all read one another's
books sooner or later.
Make sure now of a good January number.

JAPANESE "O-HI-O !"
DEARJACK: Here are three odd things about the Japanese I found
them in a book I have been reading lately. Your paragrams about
the Japs have told such curious facts that I was glad to get hold
of the book and read it, on the chance of finding more.
The first thing is that, when you pass a traveler on the great To-
kai-do highway, he sings out to you O-hi-o I which means Good
morning "; and then you must of course do the same. So, "O-hi-o"
means something beside one of the United States.
Next,-it was from Japan the Europeans learned to paper the
walls of rooms. In this, the Japs were ahead.
Third,-if you wish to take a warm bath in Japan, you must get
into a wooden tub, in the side of which a copper oven is set; a fire is
kindled in the oven, and this warms the water. It warms the bather,
too, if he does n't take care.-Your "hearer," HIRAM L. G.

"ROUND THE WORLD IN A YACHT."
WHAT do you think of that, my young folks?
Some English children took this journey recently
with their father and mother, Captain and Mrs.
Brassey. They sailed away across the broad


Atlantic to South America, and then up on the
other side to Valparaiso, and then over the vast
Pacific to the Society and Sandwich Islands, then
to Japan, China, and India, through the wonderful
Suez Canal and the Mediterranean Sea, past the
great rock of Gibraltar, and so home to England.
What a voyage for those little people! And
what curious sights they saw in the countries they
visited! A nice way of learning one's geography,
I think. They will not have to be told that the
earth is round like a ball or orange," because they
have found it out for themselves. A good many
lessons in natural history came, too, in the curious
birds and butterflies and beasts which they saw.
Think of having among one's pets a green monkey,
parrots of every hue and size, a cardinal-bird, a
pair of armadilloes, a gazelle, a puma, and a little
pig who followed them all about the ship like a
dog And think of looking down ever so far into
the clear waters of a lagoon, and seeing shells
more beautiful than any which you have seen in
collections, actually moving about on the backs of
their fishy owners !
And then think of having for dinner a great
gold fish, and for supper a flying fish, which flew
on board the yacht and entangled itself in Mrs.
Brassey's lace scarf You see, the Little School-
ma'am has described to me the book Mrs. Brassey
has written about the journey.
The editors of ST. NICHOLAS, I 'm told, have
been promised a lively and true account of just
such a voyage around the world, but the Captain
and his boys who made the promise are away in
their light little craft, far out of sight and sound,
and so you must wait for advices.
But the seas are wide and generous, and so are
boys' and girls' hearts. There is plenty of room
for these two brave little yachts, and Jack always
is glad to hear of a good account of travel written
especially for boys and girls.

AN AMUSING GAME.
DEAR LITTLE SCHOOLMA'AM: Please let me tell your other boys
and girls about a lively game that some of us play at our homes on
long evenings. It is very simple, but there is good fun in it.
A makes B, C, D, and E sit down in a row with their backs toward
him. Then, standing behind B's chair, he wags his head, or scowls
and threatens an unseen foe with his fist, or makes some comical
gesture, at the same time asking B this question:. "What am I
doing?" If B's answer is right, A leaves him and tries C, and so on,
all along the line. But whoever guesses wrong must imitate just
what A was doing when putting the question,-only in perfect silence.
Of course, very few give the right answers, and it is funny to see a
whole row of boys and girls busily making all kinds of queer motions
and odd grimaces, or posed like statues in sublime and ridiculous
positions. Five minutes is long enough for the penalty to last.-
Truly your friend, JULIA V. B.
TREMBLING LANDS.
I KNOW of some in Northern Illinois. They are
immense flats of turf, miles in extent, six or twelve
inches in thickness, resting upon water or beds of
quicksand. The passing of but one horseman over
them causes an undulating or quivering motion,
and so people call them "The Trembling Lands."
The surface is quite dry, but by cutting a hole in
the turf, one can have plenty of water. On the
thinner portions, a horse's foot will sometimes cut
through, and down the animal will go to the


226


[JANUARY,






JACK-IN-THE-PULPIT.


shoulder or ham; yet the upper surface is tough,
so that he can be rescued easily.
In some spots, the surface weight forces a stream
of water upward through a hole in the turf; and
this stream brings up sand, and, piling it on the
surface, forms a mound. Then, as the size and
weight of the mound increase, the pressure on the
water is increased, and so there will be a fountain
formed on the prairie, pouring its stream down the
side of the mound, sinking into the sand, and so
returning to the waters beneath.

BUTTERFLIES ON A SEA VOYAGE.
DEAR JACK-IN-THE-PULPIT : My father is what I call a buggist,"
for he seems to know all about bugs, and handles them so delicately
that they don't seem to mind it. When he wants to put one in his
cabinet, he first sets it under a glass with a tuft of chloroformed cot-
ton; and so it dies without pain. And now. I want to tell you some
things that he told me about butterflies.
A naturalist, when ten miles from land, found the ship surrounded
by butterflies, as far as could be seen with a telescope. There were
myriads of them, so that the sailors said itwas snowingutterflies."
For two days the weather had been fine and calm, so that they
could n't have been blown out there from the shore.
Another naturalist states that a large dragon-fly flew on board his
ship when five hundred miles from land.
Another saw a large butterfly flying around the ship when, in one
direction, land was distant six hundred miles, and in another, a thou-
sand.
Father says that the speed of these insects must have been very
great, as it is known that one of the species found will live only a
few days if unable to obtain its living food; and that these instances
seem to prove that the amount of muscular power required in flight
is much less than has been usually supposed. S. W. K.

















-.










A CROSS IN A GEODE.
HERE is a Christmas curiosity for you, my
youngsters. It is copied from a photograph which
was taken direct from the geode itself, just as it
appeared when broken in two by the man who
found it.
"What is a geode?"
Ah! I forgot to mention that. A geode is-is-
in short, a geode is simply a geode,-a very re-
markable fact, I assure you; and any geologist


who knows his business will say the same. But if
this does not satisfy you, and I hope it will not, you
may look under G E 0 in your unabridged dic-
tionary, or in any general encyclopaedia. Then,
after learning all you can there, come back to your
Jack.
Now, I'11 tell you that this particular geode was
picked up near Keokuk, in Iowa, on the bank of
the Mississippi River. It was around, plain-looking
stone enough; but the finder, knowing something
of geodes, and how apt they are to be hollow and
beautifully lined with crystals, broke this one right
in two. Think of his amazement and delight when
he found inside a beautiful sparkling cross of pure
white crystals. Ah, how proud he was! Many
admired it, and one learned bishop wished to buy
the wonderful stone. But no, he would n't sell it.
And then, one day, the ST. NICHOLAS artist per-
suaded this sensible person, the geodist, not the
bishop, to let him have a photograph of it for your
own Jack. And that is how you can now have a
look at its picture.
What do you think Deacon Green said about it ?
That it was quartz? That it was curious? Not
he. He just looked quietly into the dear Little
Schoolma'am's eyes, and says he:
I like to think, my child," says he, "that this
rough little ball, with its beautiful image of the
cross at its heart, is, in the main, a miniature copy
of our own earth,-a brown, bumpy ball on the
outside, hard to travel over, and often rough enough,
God knows, to the touch,-yet holding deep in its
heart, straight and strong, ready to sparlde forth
on the last day, when all shall be riven, the beauti-
ful symbol of the cross. And I love to think, also,
that human life, rough as we often see it, may at
last, under God's mighty working, disclose perfect
goodness, purity and peace."
I like the Deacon. He's plain-spoken and blunt
sometimes, but he's an earnest, good deacon as
ever was.

A STRANGE PASSENGER.
TOWED by rail," indeed Jack can fancy the
surprise of car horses when that news about San
Francisco street-cars, in the November ST. NICHO-
LAS, comes to their ears. In fact, judging from this
newspaper paragram sent by a Washington corre-
spondent, to a Baltimore paper, it seems as if the
noble brutes, finding that their services in the
street-car line are likely to be dispensed with, have
decided to try their hand at being passengers.
Hear this:
Washington, District of Columbia.
A very peculiar accident occurred on Louisiana avenue, near Four-
and-a-half street, this evening. It appears that one of the hill horses
of the Metropolitan street railway was sent on his way to the stables
at Georgetown without any driver. The hill horses are accustomed
to return to the stables alone, and usually follow or precede a car.
This horse, one evening, followed a car, most of the time being some
distance behind. As the car neared the City Hall he got nearer and
nearer, trotting at a very lively gait, while the horse attached to the
car was going along quite slowly. The hill horse, as he reached the
car, ran right into it through the rear door, and it was not long before
he was one of the passengers. He got his entire body into the car,
greatly frightening the other passengers. f,.. r .. .- :..: ._L r -,- r.
feet the car was stopped and the horse w.- i...- .l .., .1-I. 1.
all the seats were occupied, not one of the passengers was injured.
The horse also escaped injury.






THE LETTER-BOX.



YOUNG CONTRIBUTORS' DEPARTMENT.


SLARY'.


[JANUARY,


PICTORIAL CALENDAR.
(Drawn by a Young Contributor.)

ra MARC.


JunE


JUty. \\I /AUUSUT





------------
-7---=--


OCTOB R 1.


THE LETTER-BOX.


OUR frontispiece this month is taken from a picture painted long
ago by William Page, late president of the N. Y. National Academy
of Design. In one sense Mr. Page has not stood still in his art.
Since painting the three little sisters, he has adopted new theories
and changed his style of treatment more than once. So we now may
see in the same collection a very gray-looking picture by William
Page; then a rich, superbly colored one by the same artist; and,
again, others which appear almost as if they were seen through olive-
green gauze. But many persons who years ago became acquainted
with this artist's works like the early ones byfar the best,-those that
glow with beautiful color and yet are so harmonious that they are
never gay or glaring. In those days, people said that Page's pictures
were Titianesque in color, because they resembled in that quality
the works of the great master, Titian. Indeed, his copies of Titian
were so remarkably like the originals that, once when he was in Italy,
one of them was stopped by the authorities of Florence under the
belief that it was the original painting, and not a copy, that was
being carried out of the city. The picture from which our frontis-
piece is taken derives a great charm from its beautiful coloring; this
cannot, of course, be shown in the engraving, which, however, may


have an added interest to our young readers because it represents a
group of real children who sat for their pictures in just that way years
ago, and who did not happen to know at the time that one of the
three should some day have the joy of editing ST. NICHOLAS.
Mr. Page, who wasborn in Albany in 18s is still living, and the little
girl in the picture who holds the dolly so tightly,-the one whom you
know thebest,-saw him lastyear, a tall, white-haired, handsome gen-
tleman, who remembered well the three little girls on the sofa who sat
as "still as mice" for him-poor little things !-ever so long ago.

DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: At this special time, when plum-puddings
and mince-pies seem to grow naturally out of the good cheer of the
holiday season, your young folk may like to hear something about
raisins, which, as the juvenile world knows sooner or later, are simply
dried grapes.
The best grapes of the world are found near Malaga, a city in the
south of Spain, on the shore of the Mediterranean Sea. They are
unlike those found in America or any other country, having a thin,
transparent skin; and the pulp is of a most delicious flavor. They
are called Muscatel grapes, and are changed in a curious way into
the raisins of commerce. The vineyards of Malaga are very large,
and, in some instances, their extreme age is proved by the fact that


E PA






SE PjvifR.


\ \\\
~\\







THE LETTER-BOX.


the trunks of some of their vines are as thick as a man's wrist. The
vines are cultivated with great care, and are trained out sidewise on
wire frames. During the later -t -es n- the rirning of the fruit,
nearly all the leaves are plucked -. th ,in ... rays may more
readily reach and perfect the grapes. Near the vineyards are erected
large sheds a few feet from the ground, with nearly flat roofs; and on
ti.. ... r.- ,... -.....J .:; of small pebble stones, clean and round,
t .- ..' .. I. -. : i: ..mr by. These stones are used because
they retain the heat of the sun while the grapes are placed on them to
dry. Sometimes one finds a few of these pebbles amongst the raisins.
In gathering the fruit, a large wooden tray is used, and each cluster
is cut from its branch with shears. When the tray is filled, it is car-
ried to the shed, and the clusters are spread upon the pebbly roof in
single layers. After several days they are turned over, so that both
sides may be perfectly dried, the grapes thus changing into raisins.
Thenwooden packing-boxes are carried to the sheds, and the clus-
ters are packed one by one. The boxes are then weighed, and
shipped to every quarter of the world.-Yours truly, M. A. S.

SANTA CLAUS GAME.
HERE is a game which the youngsters will like very much. It is
suited to the Christmas season of gift-giving.
Blindfold a grown-up gentleman, dress him to represent Santa
Claus,-a long duster-coat, and white hair and beard of wool or cot-
ton-batting will be all the disguise needed,-and set him among the
company, in the middle of the room, holding in his hands a trayfull of
bon-bons and little presents. These gifts maybe very simpleand inex-
pensive, some of them for fin's sake may be cheap toys, penny trum-
pets, etc., and every article should be carefully wrapped in paper to
add to the interest. Now let him invite the youngsters to come up
one by one, and choose and take one of the gifts from the tray, return-
ing thanks by saying "Thank you, Santa Claus."
If the blindfolded "Santa Claus" cannot detect and name the
owner of the voice, the gift will belong to the taker; but, if he names
the right person, the present must be put back in the tray. Many be-
come so interested in choosing the gift and in wondering at the easy
terms on which it may be had, that they take no care to alter their
voices when returning thanks. They must speak plainly, and Santa
Claus ought to be pretty familiar with the voices. It is well to change
places occasionally. Santa Claus, led by an assistant, may hand the
tray around to each in turn, if preferred.

CONCERNING CHILDREN'S DAY AT ST. PAUL'S.
WE think there is peculiar attraction in the story we print this month
concerning "Children's Day at St. Paul's "; not only because it is a
tale about English boys and girls, but also on account of the bright
and lovely pictures Miss Kate Greenaway, of London, has drawn to
accompany it.
In England, near the end of the seventeenth century, a few
private persons started Societies for the Reformation of Manners."
These societies, among other good works, began and kept up schools
in which the children of the poorer classes were taught the catechism
and how to read, write and cipher,-all without direct cost to parents
or parish. As time went on, trades, sewing, and other bread-winning
arts were taught in a few of these schools; and, by some of them,
departing scholars were furnished with tools and situations. Kind-
hearted people all over England, and particularly in London, gave
money to help the work; and it grew and prospered.
The first celebration of the establishment of these charity-schools,
as they were called, took place on Holy Thursday, June 8, 1704, in
St. Andrew's church, Holborn, London, when about two thousand
children met. The numbers kept growing annually, until, in 1782,
the vast space under the dome of St. Paul's cathedral was given up
to the assembly on the first Children's day at St. Paul's." There
the children have met every Holy Thursday since; and now they
nut ber five thousand, while the spectators are at least seven thousand
per ons more.
Before the children march to St. Paul's on the great day, they
pros enade about their own parishes, hand in hand, two by two, the
girls in one column, the boys in another; bright and beaming and
bub ling over with laughter, they flow through the dun streets of the
smot y old city. But they appear best when in their places in the
great cathedral, where they are ranged on seats supported by scaffold-
ing, a d running, tier above tier, high up, all around under the dome,
and a vay into the broad arch-ways of the nave, transepts and chancel.
The services in the building consist of prayer, chanting by the
choir, inging,-in the greater part of which the children join,-a
sermon suited to young folks, and then the glorious "Hallelujah


Chorus" of Handel, which never sounds grander than when sung
forth in perfect time by five thousand sweet young voices, filled out with
the deep tones of the great organ,-a rosy sea of fresh faces, an ocean
of swelling music, an overwhelming tide of feeling, sweep the onlooker
into a new world. When the services in the cathedral are over, the
children file out to their own parishes, where, generally, a hearty meal
is provided for them;-and they eat it


ANOTHER LITTLE HOUSEHOLDER.
Stockton, Cal.
DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: Some months ago you printed the picture
of a little girl's play-house, and I wish you to print the picture of mine,
if you please. I send the pictures for you to copy. Papa built the


NELLIE'S PLAY-HOUSE.

-- -- -- ---- -- --- --- ---------

...... .... '








nura on',



house for me last year, and tells me to say that it is finished, both
inside and out, in as good style as that of ordinary dwelling-houses in
California. I have four rooms: bedroom, parlor, dning-room, and
kitchen. My bedroom is 5 feet by 8 feet, and is papered with pretty,
striped paper. I have a little bedroom set; it is light gray, lined with
red and blue, and ornamented with little pictures of flowers. The
paper in my parlor is printed with bright red flowers. I have little
brackets on the wall. There are a table, chairs, and a little play
piano. In the dining-room I have a table covered with a striped cloth,
chairs, and a darling little cupboard where I keep my dishes. I have
a clock in the dining-room, and a little set of Chinese dishes. My
kitchen is 8 feet by 12 feet, and I like it best of all the rooms. It has
a dear little stove with an oven, and it cooks nicely. When I have
company, we get supper on it and have a good time. I have a sink
where water comes in and goes out I have a little let-down table
beside my sink, where I can make pies. I have a little roller towel
by my back door. There is an arbor, over my kitchen window,


229







THE RIDDLE-BOX.


covered with Madeira vine and honeysuckle. I have a little clothes'-
reel to hang my dolls' clothes on. There is a little garden that I
myself take care of. I have an orange-tree that had some blossoms
on it, and then green oranges; but they all dropped off. I am eleven
years old, and I was born in Stockton.-Your little friend,
NELLIE LITTLEHALE.

Cincinnati, Ohio.
DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: My little daughter never tires of hearing
this poem, and often begs to have it read to her, gathering in the
neighbor-children that they may hear it, and all of them listen with
intense interest and satisfaction. Thinking that other children may
like to read it in the merry holiday season, I venture to ask you to
copy it: Very respectfully, T. F. A.

SSANTA CLAUS."
He comes in the night! He comes in the night!
He softly, silently comes;
While the little brown heads on the pillows so white
Are dreaming of bugles and drums.
He cuts through the snow like a ship through the foam,
While the white flakes around him whirl;
Who tells him I know not, but he findeth the home
Of each good little boy and girl.

His sleigh it is long, and deep, and wide;
It will carry a host of things,
While dozens of drums hang round on the sides,
With the sticks sticking under the strings.
And yet not the sound of a drum is heard,
Not a bugle blast is blown,
As he mounts to the chimney top like a bird,
And drops to the hearth like a stone.

The little red stockings he silently fills,
Till the stockings will hold no more;
The bright little sleds for the great snow hills
Are quickly set down on the floor.
Then Santa Claus mounts the roof like a bird,
And glides to his seat in the sleigh;
Not the sound of a bugle or drum is heard
As he noiselessly gallops away.


He rides to the east, he rides to the west,
Of his goodies he touches not one;
He eateth the crumbs of the Christmas feast
When the dear little folks are done.
Old Santa Claus doeth all that he can;
This beautiful mission is his;
Then, children, be good to the little old man
When you find who the little man is."


BOOKS RECEIVED.

PRINCE BISMARCK'S LETTERS. Charles Scribner's Sons, New
York. This little book contains thirty-nine letters from Otto von
Bismarck to his sister, his wife, and others, written during the whole
of his public life until the Franco-German war, and includes one-
to his wife-which was captured by the French during that war, and
describes Bismarck's interview with the fallen Emperor Napoleon
III. The letters are interesting and pleasant reading, for the most
part such as older boys and girls will understand; but while they tell
a good deal about Bismarck's private life and thoughts, where he
traveled, what he saw on the way, and so on, they say comparatively
little about his public doings, and in this way pique one's curiosity to
know more of their writer. They reveal great kindness of heart, and
a large and gentle nature, careful, even in the busiest days of perhaps
the busiest and-by some politicians-the most cordially hated man
.in Europe, to write cheerful letters home, and provide Christmas
presents for those he loved.
PARROTS AND MONKEYS. R. Worthington, New York. Twenty-
six illustrations. This book not only describes and pictures the
animals named in its title, but also tells many new and curious tales
about these queer creatures. This is one of those large-print sensible
books that tell the young folks things they wish to know and in away
they like.
BOOKS FOR BRIGHT EYES. American Tract Society, New York.
These are four little cloth-bound books, illustrated with colored pict-
ures, packed in a card box, and designed for very young readers.


THE RIDDLE-BOX.


ANAGRAM, PROVERB ENIGMA.
WITH the letters of the sentence "sH ALL W E MAK E T 0 YS?"
spell a common proverb composed of three words.

THREE ASSOCIATED SQUARE-WORDS.
THE base-words of the three squares, reading in the order given,
form a timely expression of good-will.

First square: x. Delighted. 2. To be of one mind. 3. The plural
form of the name of a long narrow sail-canoe used about the Ladrone
Islands. 4. Lively, brisk; an old English word in common use among
Americans of the West. 5. Frothy. Second square: i. Fresh. a.
A Scripture name of a woman. 3. A texture. Third square: i. A
period of time. 2. A Scripture name of a man. 3. Handicrafts. 4.
To rub harshly.
EASY MELANGE.
I. BEHEAD a useful plant, and leave a frame or rack. 2. Curtail
the plant, and give to vex or plague. 3. Behead and transpose the
plant, and find to let for hire. 4. Syncopate and transpose the plant,
and get the most insignificant. 5. Transpose the most insignificant,
and leave a kind of stone. 6. Behead and curtail the plant, and give
facility. 7. Behead and transpose the frame or rack, and find a
marine animal. 8. Again, behead and transpose the frame or rack,
and get a transfer. 9. Syncopate and transpose the most insignifi-
cant, and leave a water-fowl. 1o. Again, syncopate and transpose
the most insignificant, and give a straight flat piece of wood. nr.
Again, syncopate and transpose the most insignificant, and find
tardy. s1. Again, syncopate and transpose the most insignifi-
cant, and get a name for a sailor. 13. Again, syncopate and trans-
pose the most insignificant, and leave a Chinese measure of weight.
14. Again, syncopate and transpose the most insignificant, and give
an enumeration. i5. Curtail and transpose a kind ofstone, and find
after all the rest. 16. Curtail and transpose to vex or plague, and get
a site or abode. 17. Again, curtail and transpose to vex or plague,
and leave the Orient. 18. Again, curtail and transpose to vex or
plague, and give to surfeit. i9. Syncopate and transpose the frame
or rack, and find sediment. o2. Again, syncopate and transpose the


frame or rack, and get to render a hawk blind by closing its eyes.
2r. Behead and transpose the water-fowl, and leave a field.
22. Again, behead and transpose the water-fowl, and give a beverage.
23. Curtail and transpose the Chinese measure of weight, and find a
useful plant. 24. Again, curtail and transpose the Chinese measure
of weight, and get to corrode. 25. Curtail and transpose the Orient,
and leave a vast expanse of water. 26. Behead and reverse sediment,
and give a diocese. 27. Curtail and reverse sediment, and find a
fish. 28. Behead and reverse to render a hawk blind by closing its
eyes, and get the sheltered side. 29. Syncopate and transpose an
enumeration, and leave to permit. c. o.

CHARADE.
THOUGH quite devoid of heart,
My/ frst does not withhold
From him who seeks, a draught
Of water, pure and cold.

Although my second may
To you be very near,
It does not follow that
It is both near and dear.

When purpled is the grape,
And leaves grow sere and old,
In browning fields my whole
Displays its sphere of gold. L H.

EASY DECAPITATIONS.
I. BEHEAD a cascade, and leave everything. 2. Behead itty,
and leave a market-place. 3. Behead to break with noise an vio-
lence, and leave an eruption. 4. Behead a part of the body, an leave
tall. 5. Behead a head-covering, and leave a bird. 6. Be ead a
vessel, and leave part of the body. 7. Behead a security, an d leave
a shelf. 8. Behead a duty, and leave to inquire. N.B. s.


[JANUARY,







THE RIDDLE-BOX.


EASY PREFIX PUZZLE. DIAGONAL, FOR OLDER PUZZLERS.
PREFIX the same syllable to:--. Part of a poem, and make lying EACH word has twelve letters. Diagonal, from left to right down-
across. 2. Not early, and make to interpret. 3. A harbor, and make ward, a greeting of the season, a. An ancient written character. 2.
to carry from one place to another. 4. A pronoun, and make a pass- Stingy. 3. A sleepy character. 4. Conditions. 5. The scientific name
ing through. 5. Part of a play, and make to do. 6. A person who for thick-skinned animals. 6. Pertaining to names derived from an-
cannot speak, and make to change one substance into another. 7. A cestors. 7. A disbeliever in-spiritual beings. 8. Wares made of clay.
father or mother, and make easily seen through. 8. A position of 9. The scientific name for slender-toed animals, to. Very talkative.
the person, and make to change the order of things, c. s. R. is. Figurative. 12. A maker. J. p. B.

PICTORIAL QUINTUPLE ACROSTIC.


--r .,4,



L J
5 _'- -"- I__



EACH of the nine small pictures, taken in the order indicated by the numerals beneath them, represents a horizontal line of the Acrostic.
To form the Horizontals, sometimes one word, sometimes two words, and, in other cases, letters or abbreviations are used; but the required
elements of each cross-line are indicated in its particular picture. In viewing the large picture, five things are to be seen, and these five things
are described by the five words, each of nine letters, which form the Perpendiculars of the Acrostic. One of the Perpendiculars is made from
the initials of the horizontal lines, and a second by their finals; the three other upright words are formed from the intervening letters of the
cross-lines; and these letters, while occurring in proper succession reading downward, will be found scattered anywhere, each in its particular
cross-line. Thus, supposing the fourth word to be "Landscape": then" L" will be somewhere between the initial and final of the top cross-
line, but not necessarily next to the initial; a will be in the second horizontal line, but it may be any one of the letters between the two
ends of the line; and so on,-no one letter of the horizontal lines being used twice in forming the Perpendicular words.

HOLIDAY ANAGRAM. CONCEALED HALF-SQUARE.
FIND suitable words to fill the blanks :.. r". C 11 ,'..' verse, and THE words and letters forming a half-square, which has for base a
transpose the letters of these words into a : .-,, ,i, -,.: ,.. word of seven letters, will be found concealed in the following sen-
tences:
As and incense once were brought, "You know itwas you who had my whip last, Ernest, so don'tpre-
each year with treasures fraught, tend it was n't. You refused to lend it to Will,-asTeddy told me,-
Glad memories of the and and afterward you falsely accused Will of taking the whip and hiding
Good words for each, and gifts for all. B. it in a cask Edward had thrown into the quarry. No wonder Will's
temper rose when he heard of your accusation; and it was lucky for
you he started for home and cooled off before seeing you. Shame on
SEVEN-LETTER FRAMED GREEK CROSS. you Give up the whip at once, or I 'I dust your jacket for you "
The meanings of the lines of the half-square are as follows: r.
Coating ofawall. 2. Endured. 3. Solicited. 4. Forepartofa ship's
frame. 5. A nickname of a boy. 6. An affix. 7. Phonetically, a
French measure of surface. Y. E.

CENTRAL ACROSTIC.
THE centrals, reading downward, name a very useful member of
the community. The words are of one length.
THE meanings of the words forming this puzzle are: I. A grade ofsociety. 2. A volatile fluid. 3. A part of a wheel.
Horizontal of cross: Base. Perpendicular of cross: Accounts 4. Plain. 5. A word that implies fun. 6. A piece of money. 7. A
of things, persons or events deemed noteworthy. Top of frame: person who, accompanied by his wife, explored a part of Africa. 8. A
Settlement. Foot of frame: A young person engagedin sellingsome manufactured metal. 9. A victorious Yankee commodore. G. H.
of the necessaries of modern life. Left post of frame: A bird with
pouched bill. Right post of frame: The channel in which the tide DOUBLE AMPUTATIONS.
sets. A. C. c.
NUMERICAL ENIGMA. I. BEHEAD and curtail snappish, and leave to corrode; behead and
curtail to corrode and leave a pronoun. 2. Behead and curtail
I AM composed of twelve letters, and am a motto about which much rasped, and leave to value; behead and curtail to value and leave a
has been said oflatie in the United States, preposition. 3. Behead and curtail a portion of time, and leave a
a. My 3, so, ir, 12 is a sudden flaw or flurry. 2. My 6, x, 2, 5 is sign; behead and curtail a sign and leave a pronoun. 4. Behead and
to reel, as on a bobbin. 3. My 9, 4, 8, 7 is a way in which lessons curtail to bow with servility, and leave an ornament; behead and
ought not to be learned. A. curtail an ornament and leave within. CYRILE DEAN.








THE RIDDLE-BOX.

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A.i_'.DENIVTAL Hillbiu-,-.


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n i..1 t.i. I r I I II
I..


-. I~I ,I!, I I, I I

o. r 1 1.

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l_ I ,,:r ,.,: ,tl, [I, : t ..I,,: .,', s of

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. ,, t'"'-, [,,..'-- r I.i .,I 5;,J I; r [,..


ANSWERS TO PUZZLES IN DECEMBER NUMBER.


EASY ENIGMA.-" A rolling stone gathers no moss."
HOUR-GLASS.-I. BrAid; 2. ARa; 3. R; 4. TOe; 5. SaWed.
EASY PICTORIAL PUZZLE.-Beaconsfield; Gladstone.
CONCEALED DOUBLE ACROSTIC.-i. EartH; 2. NaomI; 3. GaS;
4. LinT; 5. IagO; 6. SailoR; 7. HaY.
CONNECTED DIAMONDS.- I T
I NN AWE
INTER TWINE
NEW END
R R
SQUARE.-I. Chime; 2. Honor; 3. Incur; 4. Mouse; 5. Erred.
PERSPECTIVE CROSS.-i. Nomad; 2. Level; 3. Demur; 4. Raven;
5. Brown; 6. Bat; 7. Night; 8. Trend; 9. Daunt; o1. Novel; oI.
David; x2. Gem; 13. Liver; 14. Reign; 15. Trout; 16. Naturalist;
17. Bloodhound; 18. Nethermost; 19. Dog; 2o. Rat: 21. Nut; 22.
Ban; 23. Dot; 24. Ted; 25. Rib.
CENTRAL DELETIONS.-I. PopUlar, poplar; 2. ReVel, reel; 3.
HUe, he; 4. CoLon, coon; 5. SpAin, spin. Centrals: Uvula.


PICTORIAL CONCEALED-WORD PUZZLE.--. FlOweR. 2. CHoiR.
3. fIST. 4. MAn. 5. StoCkings. 6. dOMES. 7. BUsT. 8.
bONe. 9. ConE. o1. dAisY. z. rEApeR.
RHOMBOID DROP-LETTER PUZZLE.--. Fatal. 2. Sarah. 3. Cabal.
4. Basal. 5. Natal.
NEw-DOLLAR PUZZLE.-Infant, Churn, Chain, Leap, Flower.
Bath, Cob, Soldier, Food, Jewel, AAA CCC DD, Leaves, Monkey,
Hand, Kirk, Condors, Insects, Reptil: n ; The letters in these
words may be transformed into the :' .. twenty-six words, of
four letters each, representing twenty-six things seen when viewing
the face of the new dollar: Cash, Coin, Year, Date, Head, Face,
Nose, Chin, Lips, Brow, Jowl, Neck, Hair, Lock, Curl, Band, Word,
Star, Stop, Leaf. Vein, Stem, Ears, Fold, Nick, Dent.
CHARADE.-Patch-work.-- NUMERICAL ENIGMA.-Ptarmigan.
EASY METAGRAM.-I. Switch; 2. Witch; 3. Whit; 4. With; 5.
Wit; 6. It; 7. I.
A PROVERB IN CIPHER.-" Two heads are better than one."
EASY CROSS-WORD ENIGMA.-Post-Office.


ANSWERS TO PUZZLES IN THE NOVEMBER NUMBER were received before November 2 from Evelyn Glancy Jones, "D. N. B.," South-
wick C. Briggs, Annie Southwick, Mary H. Bradley, "Fritters," Nellie Emerson, A. C. Lesley, Lillian Baker, "Two Will's," Anna Emma
Mathewson, Fred. A. Conklin, Susanna Bell, B. P. Emery, M. L. Brinkerhoff, Adda Vout&, "C. H. T.," Picolo Pedadly, E. B. Clark
Adele F. Freeman, Mifflin Brady, John L. Hanna, L. B. Wallace, Thomas Hunt, Grace Rosevelt, C. D. Clinton, Reed L. McDonald,
Bessie Hard, Bertha Potts, Flavel S. Miner, "Higgle," Lizzie H. D. St. Vrain, and Eddie F. Worcester.


232


JANUARY.







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