I I he BIld%,m Library
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,._. =,\IIHJ Uls
A /iA _L
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SWEET AS A CHERRY.
All Over the World
STORIES OF TRAVEL
Including..STORIES OF ADVENTURE
'STORIES OF HUNTING
STORIES OF ALL KINDS for
BOYS and GIRLS...
With the Choicest Poems from the Best of Juvenile Writers.
DESIGNED TO INSTRUCT, PLEASE AND AMUSE OUR
LADS AND LASSIES.
WITH SUPERB AND
APPROPRIATE ILLUSTRATIONS ADORNING
ALMOST EVERY PAGE.
Copyright, 1897, by W. B. Conkey Company
CHICAGO J NEW YORK
W. B. CONKEY COMPANY, Publishs.
A OThET IN PAUhM
Mere and (here jpon the @lobe.
A Visit to Bango-kok.
AKE your map of Asia and find the country of Siam, then find
its capital, Bang-kok, and imagine, if you can, that you were
with our party), on a visit there.
The kingdom of Siam is but a small country, being a little
Sin area _
than is California. -__
The capital is in the ____._--
lowlands, so low that
the people travel __
through the city in Mann
boats, just as they do _
in Venice. In fact, a -
large part of the king- -
dom is low, wet land.
But as rice is the chief -
product this does not
hinder the prosperity
of the country.
When our party
visited Siam we had
but little idea of what
we- should really find
there. Knowing noth-
ing of the Siamese peo-
ple we concluded that
they knew nothing of
the Americans. But
what was our surprise
to find among these
people many who were
well posted in the af-
fairs of the United
We had letters of 3T
introduction to a gentleman high in authority and found that he spoke English
fluently and knew how to make his visitors at ease. Our conversation with
him was such as might take place between two men in our country, The room
into which we were ushered when we called upon him was decorated with en-
gravings, maps, busts
and statuary. Th e
book-cases were well
filled, and in them were
found many books fa-
miliar in our own coun-
One of the most
interesting sights in
Bang-kok is the great
tower of one of its tem-
ples. This tower is over
two hundred feet high.
Every inch of its irregular
surface glitters with or-
naments; forms of men
and birds and grotesque
beasts with outstretched
wings and claws to hold
it up are curiously worked
into it. Part way up
stand four white ele-
ph ants worked in shining
porcelain, facing one each
way toward the four
points of the compass.
Over the rounded sum-
mit rises like a needle a
sharp spire. From every
angle and every projec-
tion there hang sweet-
toned bells, with little
gilded fans attached to their tongues, so arranged that they ring in the slight-
est breeze, making wonderfully sweet music. But the outside beauty was
nothing to the'inside, upon which untold wealth had been spent. Long corri-
dors of marble shafts; white walls with gilded eaves and cornices arched and
lined with gold; pearly gates of wondrous beauty, all go to make a scene which
language cannot describe. The only body upon which the eye does not rest
with delight is a great image without form or proportion. But the decorations
themselves are the finest specimens of art and would do credit to a nation
which stands higher in civilization than does Siam.
Another building which especially attracted our attention is one erected
for the special purposeof cremating the late king. This temple vies in beauty
with the one we have just described. Its general style is similar to that of
other temples in Siam-the roof rising in the centre, then running down in a
series of gables and terminating in curved points. The roof is covered entirely
with scarlet and gold, whilst the lower part of the building is blue, with stars of
gold standing out.
There are four entries leading directly to the pyre. As you enter magnifi-
cent mirrors on every side reflect the whole interior of the building, decorated
with blue and gold in a pleasing manner.
From the roof hang immense chandeliers, which at night light up the tem-
ple, increasing the beautiful effect beyond description. The pyre or platform
upon which the king's remains were cremated is in the centre, standing about
seven feet high and containing an urn in which was placed the body of the
The building stands in a low, wet spot and the ground surrounding it is
covered with close rattan work so that visitors may not wet their feet when
approaching it. Surrounding this are many tents under which Siamese plays
are given by dancing girls during the day.
In the city are more than one hundred temples; some of them small and
plain; some grand even beyond those we have described.
In one of these the floor is covered with mats of silver and contains relics
of fabulous work which are worshipped by thousands.
The Siamese worship idols, as you may know. In one temple is an idol
one hundred and sixty-seven feet high, resembling the human form. The toes
of this monstrous statute are three feet long and the entire body is covered with
gold. Millions have bowed down and worshipped this idol in the past and
millions will continue to do so in the future, although the Siamese are begin-
ning to show an interest in the Christian religion, which we hope may grow and
at length lead them from the blind idolatry which has so long held them down.
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Mere and (here ()pon the lobe.
The Land of the Vikings.
OME, Paul, tell us of your visit to Norway last summer," said
Sarah, as the children sat around the table at Grandfather Lee's,
c one cold, rainy evening, where they had gathered to spend a
week in gathering nuts and apples and, perhaps, to get a piece
of pumpkin pie and an occasional doughnut such as only Grand-
ma Lee can make. Yes," said grandpa, "the night is cold and dreary enough
for even a Norwegian, and a description of the land of the Vikings, the home
of Hans Andersen, whom children love so well; and of Ole Bull, whose sweet
strains on his loved violin have opened new beauties to thousands of lovers of
music, would certainly give pleasure to us all."
"Well," said Paul, with some hesitation, "if my recollections of a pleasant
summer in Norway can help you to spend an evening, I will tell them as best I
can. The trip I liked best was from Christiana to North Cape and return,
though the time spent in Christiana was full of- pleasant surprises." "Tell us
something of that city, Paul," said grandpa; "we would like to know whether k
is like the cities in our own land." "Yes," chimed in Sarah, I have read much
about it and would like to know from some one who has seen it if what I have
read is true." I cannot tell what you have read," replied Paul, "but there is
much to interest one there. The city is not unlike an American city; the
streets are broad and well kept, the houses not so tall, perhaps, as we see them
here, and the people seem to enjoy life. While I was there it was always light.
From eleven until twelve at night was the darkest hour and even then one
could distinguish objects as easily as in our own twilight. After twelve it began
to grow lighter and at almost all hours of the night the streets were full of
people. There are a great many shops where ales and stronger liquors are
sold, which gives the traveler an unfavorable opinion of the place; still, but few
intoxicated persons are met.
"One of the most noted buildings is Oscar's Hall, built on a wooded knoll
in a little park on a promontory just outside the city. It was built by King
Oscar for his son, but sold to the Norwegian Congress by King Carl XV. and is
used as an art gallery. Another point of interest is the saeter, where the cows
are kept, and where the peasant girls go to take care of them and to make
cheese. A friend and I drove up there one afternoon and passed [through a
dozen or more gates, at each of which was a little boy or girl ready to open it,
and ready also to pocket the ore which we gave him. The ore is the small-
est coin used and is one-fourth of a cent in our money. The saeter is a col-
lection of houses such as the peasants build, only much more comfortable. A
bed is built in one corner of the house and, of course, cannot be moved. Near
by is the store-house or granary, the second story of which projects beyond the
first on all sides. The whole is set on posts and. is a quaint affair to look
"But I must hurry if I get to North Cape to-night," said Paul. "In going
to North Cape our party went by rail from Christiana to Throndhjem, a dis-
tance of three hundred and fifty miles. This railroad, by the way, is the only
one of any length in Norway, the country being too mountainous to permit -of
them. The stops are long and frequent and twenty-four hours were spent in
going this distance. The cars are much like those of England, and our party
filled one compartment very nicely. We stopped at a little town for supper
and hardly knew what to do at first. The table .was set with plates, knives,
forks and napkins, while on smaller tables at the sides were bountiful supplies
of fish, meats, vegetables, bread and coffee. There being no waiters each one
had to help himself, so, filling our plates with what we wanted, we ate our
suppers, stepped to the counter and paid for what we had eaten, the attendant
taking our word for what we had had without a murmur.
The night on the train was not altogether comfortable, but we made the
best of it. At no time during the night was it so dark but that we could see the
time by our watches. The country through which we passed the last day was
like much of our own. The soil was poor and the farms bore an air of poverty.
I could easily understand why the Norwegians are so prosperous in America
when I saw the soil they tillecd in their native land. From time to time we
passed a substantial looking farm-house, but most of them had turf roofs, and
the house could not be.told from the stable, and several times we saw bushes
growing from the turf on the roofs of houses.
"While waiting in Throndhjem for the steamer I wandered around the
fown to see the people. An elderly fisherwoman became quite talkative when
she found I was from America, and seemed quite disappointed because I had
not met her son, who was somewhere in Minnesota.
"The boats which run from Christiana to North Cape and-back carry
freight as well as passengers and it was not a rare occurrence for the captain
to find a telegram at some little town telling him to hold his boat for a cargo
from some hamlet in the interior. The telegraph runs everywhere and is used
freely by the people. The boat we were on was loaded with salt, flour and
provisions on her up trip, and with fish and lumber back. Our captain could
speak English quite well and, as he was a good-natured soul, freely answered
our many questions. He told us that on many trips the mist was so dense that
nothing could be seen, but, fortunately, we had clear weather and made the
most of it. The shore is rocky and in many places great iron bolts are driven
into the rocks, to which vessels are moored while taking on cargo. We passed
the Giantess, a huge rock with some faint resemblance to a human form, and
the captain told us the story of it, which I will give. This giantess lived upon
one of the many islands here and used to step from one to another with perfect
ease when she wished to go from place to place. One day while passing along
playing with her parasol she discovered a suitor whom she disliked very much
in pursuit of her. She started to run away from him when her brother, a giant
at work near by getting out a glacier to put on his water pitcher, stopped his
labors and gave chase to the suitor. The suitor shot an arrow at the giant, but
only succeeded in shooting a hole in his hat. The wind whistled through the
hat so loudly that the giant dashed it to the ground, when the sun sent a strong
ray of light upon the hat and turned it into stone. At the same time a part of
the ray went through the hole, struck the giantess and her suitor, and turned
them both into stone. They fell upon their sides and remain to this day as a
proof of the truth of the story."
"I don't believe that," said Sarah; "it sounds too much like a story book."
"Neither do I," said Paul, "but I give it to you as the captain told it."
"At one place we stopped, on a Sunday morning," continued Paul, "a
Lapp came down to the boat. He was a short, thick-set man; wearing anodd
.shaped woolen frock, leather leggins, reindeer-skin shoes, and a peaked woolen
cap. He spoke to the captain, who asked us if we wanted to go to church. Of
course we wanted to go, and we followed the Lapp some distance to the church.
This was a large, eight-sided building, and as we came near we noticed men,
women and boys on the outside, some talking, some whittling, and some asleep.
The women wore handkerchiefs on their heads and the men heavy woolen
mufflers around their throats, though the day was hot. These articles seemed
to constitute the main part of their Sunday clothes. Upon trying to enter the
-church we found it crowded, the men and women in the seats, the boys standing
on one side of the aisle and the girls on the other. An old clergyman, dressed
in a black robe with white ruffles at the neck and wrists and wearing a skull
cap, was slowly coming down the aisle catechizing the children. We did not
wait for him to finish but got out of doors and back to the ship.
"At Tromso we went on land and I went to a hotel and asked for a
bath. The landlord brought out a huge, wooden tub, water, soap and towels
and left me to myself. It was not such a bath as I was used to, but I made the
best of it.
'D.&~L~l 1 Z A~l
"After we had got on board the ship the captain said he thought we could
see the sun at midnight if we cared to. Just at twelve we all gathered on the
deck and there was the sun on the edge of a bank of cloud, shining brightly, and
I saw what has always seemed strange to me-the midnight sun.
"The next forenoon found us at Hammerfest, the most northern town in
the world. It is a quaint little town lying at the foot of a steep, high hill, close
to the water's edge. It has a fine harbor, though, and this was filled with ships.
As we rambled through the town we noticed the door key hanging upon a nail
outside the dobr at almost every house. The people are honest and seem to
have no thought of danger from this source. It was while there, grandpa,
that I wrote you that letter headed,' The Most Northern Town in the
Leaving there we went on and reached North Cape in the early evening
and after supper made the ascent, and from this rough, rocky point once more
saw the strange spectacle of the sun shining at midnight. While standing on
the rocks one of the party recited Longfellow's poem, The Discoverer of the
North Cape,' beginning:
'Othere, the old sea-captain,
Who dwelt in Heligoland,
To King Alfred, the Lover of Truth,
Brought a snow-white walrus-tooth, A
Which he held in his brown right hand.'"
"Yes, children, I read that poem when Paul's letter came," said grandpa,
"and it helped me to understand where Paul was. Mr. Longfellow has told us
much of Norse tradition in in his poems. His 'Skeleton In Armor' is the best
known, but if you will look through his works you will find many others. Go
on with your story, Paul."
"Our trip back was uneventful," said Paul. "It was interesting to see the
sailors load fish. At every stopping-place were barrels and barrels of herring
waiting to be taken on. These were loaded with a large derrick and it seemed
to me no market could be found for the quantity we had. You know that the
fisheries are the main support of these people.
"At one town at which we stopped I noticed a sheaf of grain mounted on
a high pole and asked the captain what it meant. He said the Norwegians
have a pretty custom of fastening a sheaf of grain near their barns for the birds
to feed upon at Christmas time. The sheaf we saw was stripped of grain but
had not been taken down. At Christmas time the farmers sell these sheaves in
the towns for this purpose, just as Christmas wreaths are sold with us. It is a
pretty notion and speaks volumes for the kind hearts of these simple
But it is bed-time new, and I fear if I get back to Christiana to-night
grandma will have no one to help eat those waffles which she promised us for
breakfast in the morning, so I think I had better say, as the stories do, 'to be
"Well, Paul, you have given us a pleasant. evening," said grandpa, "and
have proved, too, that a boy can get a good deal out of a trip to the land of the
THIS IANiD OF THIS MIDNIGHT SUDI,
Fere and (here. (dpon the Globe.
The Play-Ground of Europe.
) OW, children, get your maps and let us look at the "play-ground
of Europe," as the little country of Switzerland has been
S called. Its charming lakes, its glorious mountains, its pic-
Sturesque valleys, its mighty glaciers and its quaint people have
given it this name. No other land is visited by a larger
number of people, perhaps, than this, and the gaily-dressed
crowds that throng its places of interest during the year make the
name seem a fitting one. Not only is its present pleasing, but its past
speaks to us in deeds which shall never be forgotten. The names of Tell and
Winkelreid, synonyms of liberty and freedom, have come down to us with a
halo which time cannot dim. What school-boy's blood has not coursed more
fiercely through his veins as he has read "Make Way for Liberty" and the
story of William Tell? What mother or teacher but speaks in reverent tones
the names of Pestalotzi and Frcebel, the founders of the "kindergarten"?
Child garden-how apt the term!
In this land we can certainly find something to amuse and interest, so let
us notice first its position in the heart of Europe, where, like a fortress, it
towers above its powerful neighbors without yielding up its independence to
them. This little state, about the.size of Vermont and New Hampshire com-
bined, has been the home of a simple, hardy, liberty-loving race from the dawn
of history. Here Caesar found the brave Helveti, whose courage, bravery and
determination compelled the Roman legions to "pass under the yoke," though
they afterward succumbed to the superior tactics and discipline of Caesar's
army. Here the seed sown by the Reformation found a fertile soil, and for
centuries Protestants and Catholics waged intestine war, and not until the
beginning of the present century was peace declared between the two.
Here, too, are found the homes of that strange, ancient people, "Lake
Dwellers," of whom so little is known, so much is left behind, who left so many
traces of their homes and implements, so little of themselves. Thoughts of the
past come to us as we gaze upon this map, but it is of the present we will
The mountains of Switzerland are noted for their beauty and grandeur.
Other countries can boast of higher peaks, of more extensive ranges, but in no
other land has Nature been more lavish in her- display of the wonderful, the
sublimeTtlia picturesque or the magnificent. The finest peaks are the Matter-
horn, Jungfrau, Mont Cenis, St. Gothard, Mont Blanc and Monte Rosa, the
two latter being the highest peaks in Europe. Amidst these mountains are
those wonderful rivers of ice called glaciers. The snow falls on the mountains
and gradually moves down into the valleys as a massive giant of ice and snow.
Some of these streams are twenty miles in length and three miles wide. They
move from twelve to twenty inches per day, less than an inch per hour, and as
they plow their way over the ground they cut out great furrows and carry with
them great masses of rock, stone and gravel, called moraines. As they get
further down into the valleys the warm sun melts the ice as fast as they advance,
and.so form streams varying in size from tiny mountain rills to small-sized rivers.
It is indeed a strange sight to see a stream of water flowing from a glacier, as
it has every appearance of moving from beneath. These glaciers make great
changes in the valleys through which they pass, as you can well imagine. The
stone and gravel which they gather can go no further than the point at which
the ice melts, except as they are crowded on by the moving force behind them,
and as a result we find great masses of debris here. Along the sides of the
glaciers also are found rock, stone, dirt and gravel, some of which is crowded
out as the glacier moves on, and some of which falls from the top and sides,
having been gathered far up in the mountains. The glaciers are split by great
cracks or rents in the ice and frozen snow, some of which are very long and
hundreds of feet deep. They make travel over the glaciers quite dangerous.
To avoid falling and being lost in these travelers tie themselves together by
means of long ropes and travel some distance apart. In this way if one falls in
the rest can easily draw him out.
During the summer the people in the valleys drive their cattle, sheep and
goats up into the mountains to pasture, and it is a pretty sight to see the herds
on the way browsing along the road-side, accompanied by the shepherds in
their quaint dress. The tinkling bells make sweet music amidst the echoing
mountains, as you can well imagine, and when evening comes and the tones of
the herdsman's horn mingles with the rhythmic bells the sweet sounds fill the
air with-melody. These shepherds live in little huts of wood, called chalets,
during the grazing months, and seldom go into the village below. What a
lonely life they must lead, and yet they are happy and contented. In the
winter the snow makes traveling very dangerous. At this season the mountains
are deserted save by the good monks, who dwell there solely to give aid to the
travelers who pass. These monks keep large dogs called, after one of the
mountains, St. Bernards, which are trained to go out in the snow and find lost
travelers. They have a bottle of brandy tied to their necks, so that the
A saIss FARMERR.
wanderer may refresh himself, ana ottenirnes a small lunch is fastened to the
dog's neck in the same way. Many a traveler owes his life to the sagacity and
intelligence of these noble dogs, as well as to the kind-hearted hospitality of
the monks.., Until a few years ago all travel from valley to valley was over the
mountains, but now there are several tunnels through them and travel is much
easier as well as less dangerous. The people are sober and industrious,
although many visitors have nearly spoiled some of them. In many cases a
traveler is looked upon as legitimate prey and all sorts of plans are laid to
deprive him-of his, money. They are a home-loving people, as is proved by the
small number of Swiss in any country except Switzerland. Many of them are
skilful workmen, especially in wood-carving, jewelry-making and weaving.
The watches of Switzerland were for many years the finest and best made, but
as they were made by hand the cost was beyond the reach of most people and
much of their trade has passed into the hands of Americans.
The cities are interesting beyond description, Here is Basle, a quaint,
old town, with picturesque overhanging roofs, fantastic chimneys and antique
turrets and gables. Around the hotels are parties of English tourists; many of
them, with their hob-nailed boots, knapsacks and knickerbockers, are evidently
bent upon some walking excursion. Here, too, are the guides, with their
Tyrolese hats and mountain dress, waiting to be engaged; farming women, who
have come in to sell their produce from the country districts, are quite unlike
anything we have yet seen.
Yonder is the cathedral, built of red sand-stone. It contains many
curiosities worth looking at. Notice the large wooden head; notice how it rolls
its eyes and puts out its tongue.
Let us to the station and take the cars for Lucerne. We enter a long,
second-class carriage. Instead of being cooped up like birds in a cage or pigs
in a stye, we can roam about and sit wherever we like. If we get tired of being
inside we can mount up by steps to the roof and enjoy a view of the country.
The train moves rather slowly,but we do not mind that. As we stop at the
different stations merry Swiss girls come with trays full of glasses of frothy
beer, Alpine strawberries and Swiss grapes. Are they not nice? Here we are
at Lucerne. What a pleasant town this is. Notice the covered wooden bridge
over which we are passing, and as we enter see the curious pictures on the roof.
Do you see that large lion cut out of the cliff? It is wounded by a spear and
at the point of death, but in its last moments it is defending a shield which
represents France. This monument is in memory of the officers and soldiers
of the Swiss Guard who fell in the defence of the Tuileries at the French
Revolution of 1792. But here is the lake; is it not beautiful? Yonder is the
inn where we are to sleep to-night. But first let us take the steamer and make
our way down the lake. Is it not like being in fairyland? The green mountains
come right down to the edge of the water, and here and there are dotted the
pretty villas and pensions where visitors stay. There are the market boats,
laden with produce, and little yachts sailing gaily before the wind. In the far
distance we see the great mountains, all white with snow. But, as we have
time, let us take the train up the Righi; but what a curious train it is -only one
carriage. The engine is not attached to the carriage in the ordinary way. How
slowly we go, only three miles an hour, but the grade is so steep we do not
care to go more rapidly. We pass through the tunnels, over the ravine, and
on, on up the mountain; every now and then we see parties who are ascending
on mules or with alpenstocks. We wonder if they do not look with envy at
our comfortable carriage-but here we are at the top. Now, as the sun is
shining, let us look at the magnificent place surrounding us. We can see the
Lakes of Constance, Zurich and Zug, and there on the banks of the latter lake
is Tell's Chapel. Yonder is the Rossberg, famous for the terrible landslide,
which occurred in I806, burying four villages, with over five hundred inhabitants.
You can see the rocks lying in the valley and the side of the mountain from
which the earth fell. The beautiful Lake Lucerne is at our feet and we could
almost throw a stone into it; but let us to the inn and have tea. What a
moving sea. All nations of the earth seem to have met on top of this mountain.
We have heard of sunrise in the Alps and conclude to remain; but we must to
bed early, for the sun rises here at the early hour of three and we shall not have
too much time for rest. We see a notice on the wall telling visitors not to dress
in a blanket when they go out to see the sun rise, under a penalty of two
francs. But morning comes too soon. We are awakened by the noise of a
large horn; it seems villainous to rouse us so early, but if we want to see the
sun we must be up. We turn out and see people in all kinds of fancy
costumes-some of them with their hair all covered with feathers, some of
them daring the two franc fine and going out with blankets wrapped around
them, like our own Indians. It is dark when we go out, but soon we notice,
looking to the east, a streak of light, and now we notice a band of gold in the
far distance and soon the highest peaks in succession become tinged with the
rosy hue. .Soon we begin to see the forests, lakes, villages emerging from the
mists, and now the sun rises in its majesty and floods the whole scene with his
golden light. We have seen the sun rise and, shivering and shaking, we go
back to the hotels and once more return to our beds to finish our morning's sleep.
After breakfast we get our alpenstocks and go down the mountain on foot.
What fun it is I
Next day finds us at Berne, a picturesque town on the Aar. Look at the
curious ferry across the river. The boat is attached by a rope and ring to a
strong cable thrown across the stream; as the ring slides along the boat is
easily rowed across without fear of its being carried down the stream. Wherever
you look you see figures of bears, from which the town takes its name. Here
is the clock tower; as the clock strikes you see whole troupes of bears come out
and march in procession. This is the bear-pit, where a number of bears are
kept as pets at public expense. They look pleasant now as they climb up the
poles and take the buns we offer them, but if we were to go too near them I am
afraid some of us would go the same way as the buns.
We must end our trip at Geneva. This is a cheerful town, with nice shops
and gardens. We notice the Rhone, its blue waters rushing out of the lake on
its way to the sea. The mountains are on the other end of the lakes; the
shores here are low. Do you see those boats sailing and lying at anchor at thq
end of the bay? Those belong to the pupils of the Bellrive school. The boys,
in season, have riding-school, play-ground and gymnasium, and we are sure.
they enjoy it all. Yonder, too, is the lovely village of Clarens, where so many
people come to try the grape cure. As far as one can judge it consists in
walking about all day with large bunches of grapes in their hands. This is
certainly much pleasanter than taking pills and medicine and probably of as
much benefit to the patient. Yonder is the castle of Chillon. You will remem-
ber Byron's poem upon it. We can see the dungeon and the pillars to which
the prisoners were chained. We can see the stone floor completely hollowed
out by the unfortunate prisoners' footsteps, who paced round and round as far
as the length of their chains would allow them. We think of these poor men
shut up within these walls. They could look out upon the lake, see the vessels
sail from shore to shore; they could hear the songs of the birds, tinkling of the
bells as the herds of cattle were driven home from pasture; they could smell
the fragrance of the flowers and the scent of the new-mown hay. But these
things were not for them to enjoy; they were shut up in a living tomb.
We note the homes of the Swiss, the large projecting roof reaching almost
to the ground on either side. The roofs are of stout timber cut into tiles and
held in place by large pieces of rock. Stair-cases and galleries run up the side
and enter the living-room, as very often the ground floor is used as a large shed
to shelter cattle during the winter months. Some of these homes are richly
carved, and in almost every one there is a text of Scripture. The window sills
are filled with flowers, and on the balustrades flax, hemp and Indian corn are
hung to dry. But let us take to the hetel. Evening is approaching and wo
must prepare for a long day's jaunt tomorrow.
Fere anc dfhere (tpon the lobe.
In Uncle Sam's Ice Box.
OW well I remember, when a lad of ten, sitting one sultry sum-
mer's day upon a backless bench in an old log school-house,
discontentedly studying the geography lesson which, for the
S'* day, was Russian America. The hot sun beat in through the
uncurtained windows upon our defenseless heads and made it
well-nigh impossible to study. Not a breath of air was stirring.
The heat was oppressive, stifling, and as I read of the ice and
snow of that far-off land an intense longing to visit its snow-capped mountains,
rugged hills and ice-bound rivers took possession of me. Again and again the
longing returned, but I was forced to satisfy myself with such information as
could be obtained, and could only hope that some day my dream might be
In the summer of 188- I found myself in Portland, Oregon, with time hang-
ing heavily on-my hands, and, upon learning that the mail steamer Idaho would
soon sail for the land I had so long wished to visit, it is but little wonder that I
resolved to take passage upon her. An uneventful voyage, during which we
were scarcely out of sight of the coast, soon brought us to Sitka, the capital.
The quaint little town lies on a narrow, undulating beach over which tower
Mounts Edgecombe, Nerstovia and other snowy peaks, rising high into the sky
and standing stern, silent sentinels to protect the city from invasion beyond.
The harbor, dotted with many islands, is deep and affords an excellent shelter
for storm-tossed ships. The old Russian Government House stands high on a
rocky pinnacle, like some castle of feudal times. The Russo-Greek church
with its tall green spire tells us that the people are not without religion. Here,
too, we find a weekly paper, bright, spicy and well edited, but the news it gives
would be out of date "in the States." There are fairly good schools here, though
their usefulness is lessened because attendance is not compulsory. Educational
matters are under the supervision of Rev. Sheldon Jackson, D. D., appointed
by the U. -S. Commissioner of Education. There are eighteen schools in the
various settlements of the territory, two of them being at Sitka. Here, too,
industrial education has gained a footing, one of the schools being devoted to
teaching the various trades, as blacksmithing, shoe-making, carpentering, etc.
There are twenty teachers employed and nearly two hundred pupils in at-
tendance. _,The results of the school are beneficial and far-reaching, and it is
INDILAN fI THEIR ALA KA' HOIME
considered the most civilizing agency yet introduced into the country and is also
a refuge for native youth misused at home.
Here is a land vast enough for an empire. For twelve hundred miles we
skirt its shores, washed by the placid waters of the Pacific, a distance as great
as from Maine to Florida. Westward we stretch our way to the island of Attu,
nearly three thousand miles west of San Francisco, which is therefore really east
of the center of the Union. We cannot credit it, yet it is true. The island is
only four hundred miles from Kamchatka, and an equal distance from the
nearest Alaskan village. Here dwell a small but vigorous band of Aleuts, one
hundred and forty in number, whom no reward can induce to leave their lonely
island home. They have their chapel and their priest and seem content to spend
their lives in hunting and fishing. Blue foxes roam the hills; wild geese nest
here; sea-lions sport along the rocky shore; and cod and halibut in countless
numbers swarm its waters. What wonder these hardy people love their native
Near the end of a rainy, dismal day we stand on the narrow beach, watching
the weary fisherman pull his heavily laden canoe to shore. As he lands the sun
bursts forth in a blaze of glory ere going to rest. We feel his parting rays and
know that in the far-off east the morning sun is streaming out upon the toiling
woodsman of the Penobscot forests. What a thought! A country of such
imperial dimensions that the sun never sets upon its broad domains during the
Islands are numerous, as a glance at a map will show. Some are inhabited
by bold Eskimo walrus hunters whose homes are built on stages constructed on
the steep, rocky slopes, one above another, like'terraces. One-third of Alaska
lies within the Arctic circle, a land of short, hot summers; of long, cold winters.
Along its coast and upon its river banks amid its always frozen fields, where
neither fruit nor cereals grow, dwell some 18,ooo Eskimos. Its frozen moor,
snow-covered mountains, and mosquito haunted marshes offer small induce-
ments to the traveler, but these hardy people seem to lead a merry life. They
are taller and stronger than their Greenland brothers, with faces inclined to
mirth. They eat the flesh of moose, reindeer, walrus, seal, bear, fowl, and fish,
and if pipe and tobacco can be had the sorrows of life are forgotten. In summer,
their shelter is cotton tents or bark shanties; in winter, log huts entered by
underground passages. These huts are ill-smelling, unventilated abodes, but
no cold can penetrate them. Their dress is the skins of animals and here a
seal-skin coat is no luxury, though a city belle might not like the primitive
style. Summer journeys are made in canoes of bark or skin; winter ones by
sledges, drawn by ill-looking dogs, six of which can transport several hundred
pounds some thirty miles per day.
MiDNOOilES, (INDIANS) ALASK&
~-"' ':'~I'~~" ` ~" ")'"
When summer comes countless thousands of geese, ducks, herons, cranes,
swallows, robins, and grouse swarm the shores of Norton Sound to lay their
eggs and rear their young in the grasses of the lowlands. You may be sure the
Eskimos wage war upon the birds at this season, gathering the eggs, knocking
down the young birds with great sticks and feasting to their full content. At
Point Barrow, the most northern point of the U. S., during a few days in July
we found buttercups, dandelions and poppies sending forth their tender blos-
soms, and even golden butterflies floating in the chill air. As we ascended the
Yukon river, its yellow, muddy waters often clogged the boilers of the steamer,
and we were obliged to stop until they could be cleaned. The banks are covered
with wild roses, blue grass and other plants, but the enormous, poisonous mos-
quitoes compelled us to stay on board at all times. For 1,300 miles we ascended
the river to the gold fields of the upper Yukon, where our journey ended. Of
life in the gold regions it need only be said that the small amount of gold
secured afforded but small compensation for the hardship endured and we were
glad enough to avail ourselves of the first opportunity to get back to Sitka.
The mountains which lie back of the city afford an ever-changing scene to
the citizens of the town. They are northerly extensions of the Cascades of our
western coast, culminating in ice-clad towering peaks with an altitude of from
1,200 to 20,000 feet, and sending off spurs which are as yet unexplored. Mt.
St. Elias, with its summit 14,ooo feet above the sea, lies some two hundred and
fifty miles to the northwest, but time would not permit us to visit it, as the
steamer was just ready to sail for Portland, which was reached in the latter
part of October, satisfied at last that I had visited the land which seemed so
delightful on the hot summer day so long ago
- ..~a -s
ALASKA INDINS IN WINTR B
Rere and Thepe ()pon the &lobe.
Among the Mormons.
HIEN Brigham Young left the Mississippi Valley and journeyed
westward to find the "promised land," he little thought when
he reached Salt Lake that ere the century would close a region
Which was then so far from civilization would be visited by
hordes of Gentiles, who had opposed him so bitterly east of the
Mississippi. For years after the Mormons had taken posses-
sion of Utah but little was known of them; now, however, thanks
to the iron horse, which carries us so swiftly across the continent, it is an easy
matter for a resident of our eastern cities to reach the land of the Mormons in
a few days' time. When the Mormons settled.at Salt Lake they were deter-
mined to find a place where they could live unmolested. And it is no wonder
they considered themselves sate from intrusion when they reached the valley
of the Salt Lake, and yet one who visits that city can have naught but respect
for the.good judgment which led them to settle there. Water is abundant for
irrigation, and the mountain canons bring it to their door without the expense
of wells or canals, Lands in this valley, not otherwise irrigated, may be
watered by the mountain streams or the river called the Jordan.
The ground was originally an alkali plain, bearing only sage brush; it had
the appearance of a worthless desert, but irrigation has turned it into fertile
fields and gardens of flowers. Salt Lake was laid out with an eye to beauty
and for convenient residences, rather than for business purposes. The streets
are eight rods in width, and any amount of shade trees are found along the
spacious side-walks. Under such circumstances the city appears roemy, and
the whole effect is pleasing. In Salt Lake City there are but few buildings
which are of much interest to the readers, although many would well repay a
visit; there are the tithing establishment, where all the citizens go to pay their
tithes, or taxes; the several residences of Brigham Young and a number of
residences of his wives are interesting. The chief interest, however, centres in
Temple block, as it is termed.
At the present time the temple is not finished, although the walls are up to
their full height and work is being pushed upon the towers. It faces the east
and from this point the other streets are reached and numbered. The Mormons
say the plan of the temple was given by "revelation." It will have no audience
room and is not intended for public service, but for the ordinances of the church.
No Gentiles will be admitted. The lower story, partly underground, will be
given to baptism of converts, and one of the upper stories will be devoted to
endowment ceremonies. The building is of solid granite, and to obtain this
a narrow gauge railroad was run to the quarry in the mountain some miles
up the valley. The walls of the lower story are twelve feet thick, of the up-
per nine feet nine inches. It is two hundred feet from the ground to the
roof, and the towers will go much higher. The outside is adorned with
symbolic characters; one story has over the windows the stars all the way
round, another has the moon in its changes, and another the sun. The hopes
and expectations of the Mormons are centered in this temple, as it has been
revealed to them that Christ will make His advent there when finished. Those'
who are acquainted with the history of the Mormons will remember that the
first temple was built at Kirtland, Ohio, the second at Nauvoo, in Illinois, and the
third at Independence, Mo. But all of these, though located by "revelation,"
were resigned for the one at Salt Lake City.
The Tabernacle is well worth a visit; space forbids its description, but we
can conceive of its excellence when we are told that 13,000 people can gather
in it, and so perfectly is it built that each one of the many thousands can hear
every word, though spoken in a low tone. It is strange, too, that these people,
so far away from manufacturing places, should build an organ as 'complete,
and as perfect, and larger than any other in the Union.
Whatever may be thought of the Mormons, or of their religion, we must
admit there was much of the old pioneer spirit among them to emigrate from
the states in dead of winter, across the desert plain and Rocky Mountains, and
plant the colony in Salt Lake valley. A band of pioneers was sent on ahead;
as they went forward, here and there upon the line of march they broke up
soil, planted corn and left cattle with a few men to guard them from the Indians.
In this way those that came later were supplied with food. And what a sight
they must-have presented on their journey-some traveling on foot, some with
light wagons; some carried their goods in wheelbarrows and some in hand-carts,
the few they had saved.
A march of over 1ooo miles through a country without roads and without
accommodations lay before them. For two years they marched before reach-
ing the place of rest. When they reached one of the camping grounds pre-
pared for them they helped plow the soil afresh, reap the corn and plant for
those who were to follow. Afterward they took fresh cattle on with them, and
left those they had worn out behind. When winter came they dug caves for
the women and children, and the men did the best they could to keep from
freezing. The first two years of their life were filled with hardships, but after
,hat they had an abundance..
When the western rush to the California gold field came, Salt Lake City
'ABEMBLY BUtLDrin. T&BKWmNLm. TEMPLE.
became a thriving place; a market was made for all the fruit and provisions
they had to spare, and the Mormons had much of these to exchange for cloth-
ing-and other luxuries. Up to this time these people had no money, but as
they grew in numbers the government sent troops there, and as they had to
buy from the Mormons and had nothing to exchange, they were forced to the
use of money. The Mormons tell how in those days the soldiers supplied
them with sacks at $I.oo a piece; the price was exorbitant, but the Mormons
got even with them, for when the sacks were filled with flour they charged the
Salt Lake itself is well worth a visit. The lake is about 70 miles long, 30
miles in width and there are a number of islands in the middle of the lake,
II .T S
some of them rising over a thousand feet above the level of the water. The
water of the lake is so salt as to form one of the purest and strongest brines
known; no living creatures are found in its waters. So strongly impregnated
with salt is the water of the lake that a swimmer finds it a very easy matter
indeed to float upon the water. At the present time a large number of the
population of Salt Lake are Gentiles, or those who do not believe in the Mormon
faith. These people have carried their push and vim with them and have
made Salt Lake City one of the prosperous cities of the country. It seems sad
indeed to think that in a few years these people, who have undergone so much
hardship, and who have labored so industriously, shall be obliged to either seek
new fields, or sink into insignificance among the numbers of non-believers who
will make Salt Lake City their home.
Sh hyme for little iprls.
RITHEE, tell me, don't you think
Little girls are dearest,
With their cheeks of tempting
And their eyes the clearest?
Don't you.know that they are best
And of all the loveliest?
Of all the girls with roguish ways
They are surely truest,
Sunshine gleams through all their days,
They see skies the bluest,
And they wear a diadem
Summer has bestowed on them.
Lydia does not care a cent
For the newest dances;
She is not on flirting bent,
Has no killing glances;
But without the slightest art
She has captured many a heart.
Older sisters cut you dead,
Little sisters never;
They don't giggle when they've said
Something very clever;
They just get behind a chair,
Frowning, smiling, at you there.
Florence, Lydia, Margaret,
Or a gentle Mary,
They form friendships tnat, once set,
Never more can vary-
Stanch young friends they are and true,
Always clinging close to you.
Buds must into blossoms blow,
Morn so early leaves us;
Maids must into women grow,
There's the thing that grieves us!
Psyche knots of flying curls,
That's good-by to little girls.
Rere and 'here .(pon the (lobe.
A Year in Brazil.
"HAT a pleasant year we children spent in Brazil! Everything
there was so different from what we were used to, and every-
thing was so strange that life was one constant series of sur-
prises. The people do not look or act as do the people in
the States; their ways of working were different; the means
of transportation were such as we were unused to, and the
S pets of the children were queer and amusing.
If there is one place where children in Brazil can have a good
time it is on the Fazenda. Upon the first morning after our arrival
there we arose early to see the packed mules start to market, and so interest-
ing was it to see the men load them and start them off that we were out every
morning afterward to witness the sight. On this particular morning we went
to the fruit-room, and on each side baskets were hung filled with long bunches
of bananas, oranges like gold and pine-apples ready to burst. When the mules
were loaded they started off in Indian fashion, one behind the other. The
leader wore a tingling bell and we listened until its sweet tones were lost in the
One morning father thought he would send a new kind of load to market.
It was to be a big basket of guinea pigs -dear little soft, bright-eyed creatures.
We had fed them so long we did not want them to be sold to be killed like
chickens. We could not bear to bid them good-bye, and sat with them all the
morning, petting them and kissing their soft fur. When we heard the man
coming for them what do you think we did? We did not want to be naughty;
we always tried to do just as papa said, and often helped the man load the
mules, but we did not want to see our dear little pets carried off, and one of
us suddenly opened the door of their hutch and they ran out. We started
down the hillside with the guinea pigs at our heels. They stopped at the gate-
keeper's hut, and when papa came up we sat there with our pets in our arms
and tears in our eyes. Papa did not punish us-no, he forgave us and said
that our little pets should not be sold.
We had many other strange pets there. We had some queer colored
parrots, which were very amusing, but not nearly so funny as our little Ouistite
monkeys, known only in Brazil. These are very timid and easily frightened,
but they seemed to love us children very much, and would climb all over us,
and often go to sleep in our pockets. Their skin is like chinchilla fur. They
are so small that two sleep in a cigar box. We used to feed them on biscuits,
fruit, and sometimes a mouse. We also had an iguana or lizzard, two feet long.
He was covered with bright colored scales of black and white. Though some
people would not admire him, he was a gentle, harmless creature. His name
was Jacona. One morning he did not appear, and after a long hunt we gave
him up for lost. We feared that he had been killed, for his flesh is delicate
food. At last, after a long hunt, we saw his tail hanging out of a pillow-case,
showing where he had passed the night.
We used to find much pleasure in watching the many birds that flitted
around our home. We loved the swallow best, that stayed with us until March.
Probably we thought more of them because we knew these same swallows
would spend the summer in the United States.
We used, also, to hunt butterflies, and this was rare sport indeed. The
butterflies were thickest in the mountains, and there we went one day, each of
us with a long pole, from the end of which hung a dip net. Large butterflies,
yellow and spotted, flew across our path, and our little nets were thrown over
them. We gathered a large number and put them in our cabinets on the walls.
Many of these butterflies are sold to the stores, and afterward they sometimes
rest on the head of some lady at a grand party. Butterfly chasing makes tired
feet, and we were glad to rest. We laid down under a tree, hoping for a few
moments' repose, but there was such a great chatter in the cocoa tree above
that we could get no rest. Such a noise we never heard. Upon looking up
the tree seemed to be covered with large oranges, each one of which had a great
bill. The tree was covered with a flock of toucans, a bird with bright feathers.
and eyes which made him look as though he wore goggles. He is called the
"barber bird" because he cuts his tail feathers with his own sharp beak, us-
ing it like a pair of scissors, cutting the web away from the stem. Perhaps he
thinks it adds to his beauty.
The work of the men, too, seemed strange to us. We always nad a good
time at farina-making. Farina is the bread of Brazil, and is made from a
root called mandioca. This root is ground in a mill turned by mules, then
dried in a shallow copper pan. The bread, or mush, made from it is very nice
indeed. Sugar-boiling is also interesting. The clear, sweet juice, the steam-
vats of syrup or sugar, to be tested with sugar-cane paddles, the candy-boiling
and pulling, was a grand jubilee which we will never forget.
Another employment was coffee picking. If we children had been obliged
to pick coffee we probably would have thought it hard work, but it seemed so
easy for the natives to pick the little berries that we begged to help them.
Papa gave us permission and so,we went into the hills where the coffee trees
grew with bags swinging in front of us in which to place the berries. All the
trees were covered with long sprays of berries and green leaves. We had seen
them wreathed with white, star-like blossoms that made all the air fragrant,
but we thought them just as pretty now. We were soon busy picking, for the
branches hung down almost to the ground. When our loads got heavy
we poured them into broad, shallow baskets which were taken to the. coffee
house. The coffee berries looked like cranberries. They were first poured
into a little mill which cut the pulp, and out of each berry dropped two
grains that had lain with the two flat sides together. They were white and
juicy and were spread on a terrana to dry. The-terrana is a square yard
covered with slate or brick, and the coffee must lie there for several' days.
Then it must go through a mill or be pounded in a mortar to take the thin,
dry chaff from the grain. When evening came and work was done an old
African played on his viola, which is an African ir asical instrument made of a
gourd with strings stretched across it. What fun we children had dancing to
this weird music in the moonlight!
One day while with mamma in the fity we wished to visit some friends in
another part, and how do you think we went? There were no street cars or
carriages there. We rode in sedan chairs. These chairs are large and softly
cushioned and have curtains all around and covered over head. They are car-
ried by four black men who bear the poles that extend from the corner posts.
We children were tucked into one and mamma sat in another. The men
threw the curtain down but we children peeped out very often. The men sing
as they travel, and it is fun indeed to ride in such a chair. When we reached
the house of our friends we did not rap or ring a door-bell, but clapped our
hands as hard as we could. Our friends came to the door and seemed to be
pleased at meeting us, and said, "Enter, and welcome. The house and all it
contains are yours." We went into the parlor and sat on a cane-seated sofa.
Coffee was brought in in tiny cups and we sipped and chatted. Before we
went away they took us to walk into the garden, where there were tall palm
trees with trunks like green satin, and India-rubber trees with blossoms like
yellow lilies, fountains and many rare flowers. The sedan bearers waited for
us, and as we rode home again we saw priests in black gowns, Sisters of Mercy
with their queer, white caps, water carriers with large red jars on their heads,
black men with bags of sugar or sacks of coffee on their heads, and many other
sights that would be strange to you.
One day we were invited to go with some other children to ride in a
musical cart. Mamma consented and in a few hours it was a merry party that
started from the cottage. One of the boys walked and drove the oxen that
drew the cart, but the rest of us rode. The cart was such as the old Romans
used. The wheels were thick and solid, without spokes and did not turn on
an axle but wheel and axle turned together. It is the desire that they should
squeak, and they are fitted so that as the wheels turn around they make a
loud noise. The floor of the cart was covered with bright bedspreads and had
a gay awning overhead. No one could be heard talking while the wheels
turned. They could be heard for miles. How the children did smile with joy
because the cart had such a loud voice! We did not take a very long ride.
When we got back mamma gave us some guava doce. This is made from the
fruit called guava and is stiffer than jelly, very sweet and nice. She also gave
us a cake in the shape of a heart. It was larger than a big dinner plate and
six inches thick.
Our Christmas there was a strange one to us, and yet there was much
pleasure in it. We could not think that it was Christmas, for the doors and
windows were open and it was warm and sunny everywhere. With us Christ-
mas always came in midwinter, and snow and ice seemed as much a part of it
as anything else. We could not hang up our stockings- because there was not
a chimney in the house to hang them by; neither did we have a Christmas tree.
We had our Christmas gifts, however, in the parlor. In the parlor the flight
of steps grew smaller toward the top. This was covered with fine linen. On
the top was placed the Christ-child in a cradle, and all the steps were filled
with the choicest things of the land; gifts to Him who was God's gift to man.
There were spices and myrrh, such as the wise men brought; clusters of every
kind of fruit that was ripe; handfuls of rice and other grains, all to show that
the first fruits and the best fruits should be His. The air was full of the sound
of chiming bells, and we went to church with our parents. The steps were
covered with spice leaves, which gave out a sweet smell when we stepped upon
them. At night the city was bright with fireworks, which the Brazilians use
more than any other nation except the Chinese.
Although we enjoyed very much our year in Brazil, yet we were glad to
take the steamer again for the United States, and when we reached our old
home, although we enjoyed talking over our sports and games with our South
American cousins, we were not at all sorry to bid good-bye to them.
-- : _
r~ ~~.~ --Ab?~'C---a
CHJ4ATow. FOOT .03 CAsTaD ST.. OuuLANn. CALxITOMLL
pere and ( here (dpon the (lobe.
A Trip to Chinatown.
HE boy who is not interested in the "Heathen Chinee" is
rather rare in these days, and we wonder if a trip through
Chinatown would not afford us some instruction and
possibly some amusement as well. We can nearly all of
us remember the picture in the old geography labeled:
"Chinese selling rats and puppies for pies." The picture
shows a Chinaman with the ever-present bamboo over his
shoulder and the wares of his trade dangling therefrom.
This picture has given every boy his first impression of the
everyday life of the Chinese. The Chinaman in America does not differ so
much from the Chinaman on his native soil. The Chinese have gathered in
one part of San Francisco, and that is called Chinatown. Its great alleys,
opium dens, its variety of stores, shops, groceries, its places of amusement and
of worship are the nearest approach to the Chinaman in his native land that
can be found without crossing the ocean. In the city, however, you see but
one side of his life; to know him through and through you must follow him to
the railroad, to the mines, to the laundry, to every place where there is work to
be done and where the "dollies" may be gathered in. The Chinaman is peculiar
in many respects, but in none more so than in his home habits. No other
people can crowd so many lodgers into so small a place, and in the mild climate
of San Francisco they need but little covering for the night, and with a plank
of wood for a pillow they stow themselves away in tiers like dry goods on the
shelves. How they breathe and live is a mystery to all, but when they come
out in the morning, in droves and scores, they come out clean in person and cloth-
ing, something that is not done by other nations that live in such close quarters.
It is a common remark among the people of San Francisco that the Chinese keep
themselves clean and neat in person; that no other people use so much water
as do these. This seems especially strange in view of the fact that Chinatown
itself is filthy beyond description. How the Chinaman can keep neat and tidy
in the middle of so much dirt is a problem we cannot solve. The picture we
give you.was taken especially for our purpose, and can be depended upon as
correct in every detail. The building, as you will see, -was not built for show,
but is very practical. In many places Chinamen are employed in large numbers.
psgpcially was this the case in the building of the Northern Pacific R .1 rc.? .- where
they lived by themselves. They did their own cooking and one who has observed
them closely in such a life says, that during a. long experience he never saw a fight
among them, and that, when the day's work was done, notwithstanding the fact
that they were beyond home influence, they played together as lively as children.
Although not quarrelsome among themselves, they will fight when driven to it,
and are really dangerous as enemies. Indeed, it is said that a Chinaman never
attacks a foe except for the purpose of taking his life. The Chinaman is in-
dustrious and sober. He is not credited with a vast amount of intelligence, and
yet he knows enough to let whiskey, "the foe of all mankind," severely alone.
Some of the large ranches of California employ only Chinese labor, simply be-
cause the Chinaman can be depended upon. He never gets drunk, and is al-
ways ready for work. We have stated the Chinaman is sober; this, perhaps,
ought to be modified, for,. although the Chinaman does not drink whiskey, he
has a worse habit in the form of opium. It was the writer's privilege at one
time to visit an opium den. Our guide took us through an alley in Chinatown,
under an underground room not more than 8 feet square and 7 feet high; the
only opening was a narrow doorway. As soon as we entered the door was
hastily closed, as these people did not believe in ventilation. We found several
Chinamen; one was melting opium at a little table by means of a taper, another
was just sinking under its influence, a third was lost to consciousness. The
habit is a terrible one and is followed both by men and women. The fumes
of the opium fill one with a pleasant sensation which grows upon him until his
surroundings are lost and he sinks into unconsciousness. The habit is a terrible
one; the effects of opium are even worse than those of whiskey. Possibly this
is the reason why San Francisco has laws to restrict the smoking of opium, and
yet lets men get drunk, insult and abuse passers-by on the street, and maltreat
and starve their families. 'Passing still farther under ground, far away from
any possible connection with the outer world, we passed into a second room
smaller than the first, and with no possible chance for ventilation. Here was
a Chinese woman past middle age who said again and again: I have lived
here twelve years. I have lost my eyes!" Although the Chinese are mocked at
as pagans, they are really a very devout people. They almost make gods of
their ancestors; they believe new ways, new methods, new customs will displease
their fathers, who are hovering about them to help and protect them, and so
adhere with wonderful tenacity to the old. This would seem that their religion
is more of fear than love and reverence; they believe if they depart from old
customs they will anger their ancestors and these will become their enemies
and hinder them in all their undertakings. There are a number of Chinese
temples in San Francisco, but it is not an easy matter to gain admission, They
have no stated season for worship or any particular meeting for this purpose;
each one worships where he pleases and when he pleases. Their temples are
called Joss Houses. The name Joss is a title given to all their gods. Some-
times a temple contains not only one but many of these. Our cut is from a
photo and represents the god they worship. The room in which the god is
placed is gaudily decorated with carved work and painting. In fact, some of
the carving must have taxed the patience of these wonderfully patient people;
much of it is wonderfully fine and is all in emblematic figures and characters.
It was badly discolored with the smoke of incense and tapers which are kept
constantly burning. It was the fortune of the writer to witness the worship of
the Chinese at one time. Soon after we entered the room several taps were
given on a bell, which was out of sight back of the altar. This bell was sounded,
not to call the worshiper to his duty, but to notify the god that he was wanted.
A single worshiper was there. He took some incense-sticks and Joss paper
from the priest; he had two pieces of wood, seven inches long. These he
threw upon the floor and marked how they fell, he then bowed his head to the
floor and prayed for a long time. Then he took a vase about six inches long
and between two and three inches in diameter-this he filled with split recd
about a quarter of an inch wide, quite thin, and possibly about a foot in length.
On each of these reeds Chinese characters were written. He commenced
shaking the vase and to our astonishment one of the reeds began to rise and
separate itself from the rest, fell out and upon the floor. He examined the
character upon it and set it aside. This performance of breaking of sticks,
praying, and shaking of reeds he went through three times, then he took the
reed, copied the characters from this on a piece of paper and put them in his
pocket. This was his charm. Then burning some more incense and Joss paper
his worship was ended.
It is, perhaps, not just to judge the Chinaman by those who come to Amer-
ica. It is said that only the lower classes come here, yet many of them have
succeeded excellently in business, and have even amassed fortunes. Wherever
we find them they are quiet and industrious, doing their work rapidly, neatly,
and silently. Their peculiar dress upon the street, however, attracts attention.
One peculiar custom exists among them which we ought to notice: annually
they settle all difficulties, forgive all debts and injuries one to another, a custom
which might be copied to the profit of any people. Why there should be en-
mity toward them on the part of so many of our people is a question we cannot
aWF-Vo "NW-F1 ^ *^1',.>^ SC
W Suteh. ieture.
A LITTLE Dutch girl and a little Dutch boy
On the shores of the wonderful Zuydcr Zee!
She showed him the ships with their sails outspread,
And smiled when he said v. nh a nod of his head-
"I'm a Dutchman, and Fo a great sailor must be,
Like father, Van Trump, and De Ruter, you see''
;-' ;~; 1.
llmpea of their r Panb .
OW we are in the Netherlands, a low, flat country, whose level
surface and rich soil almost remind one of our western prairies.
?Indeed, so low and so flat is it that the people have built walls
or dykes to keep but the waves when the tide flows in. Not a
Shill or dale breaks its surface. Well tilled fields, green pastures,
Saving meadows, prosperous cities, thriving hamlets, and pleas-
S ant homes, are found where once was naught but a vast morass.
Great wind-mills pumped out the water after the dykes were built and re-
claimed the land. Its people are simple, cleanly, honest, industrious-what
more can be said in their praise-yet it has a history all boys and girls should
Here are found a people who cut the dykes and let the sea flow in and
destroy their homes when threatened by Spanish invasion; here Lawrence
Coster hit upon the idea of tying letters cut in wood into one block, and founded
the art of printing; here sailed the Puritans when English oppression forced
them to seek a home in foreign lands; here England obtained one of its best and
bravest kings; here honesty, frugality, and industry made a people the bankers
of the world; and here have been fought battles which have changed the course
of empires. Canals wind here and there with white-winged ships floating lazily
on their quiet depths in summer, with merry, steel-shod boys and girls gliding
gracefully and rapidly over their frozen surface in the winter time. Patient
men toil all the day in the fields, their heavy wooden shoes beating the soil with
a dull monotonous sound as they plod along. Tender-eyed women, with snowy
kerchiefs wound around their heads, till the gardens and scrub the kitchen floors to
snowy whiteness. Sturdy,, rosy-cheeked maidens driving dogs to market with
loads of vegetables, butter and cheese. Chubby babes at play upon the floor,
the grass, the pavement; babies everywhere, Quaint old cities with narrow
streets. Houses whose foundations have settled until the tops approach each
other in friendly confidence. Markets with strange wares for sale, anchors,
stoves, vegetables, fruits, eatables, clothing. Venders sitting quietly by waiting
for purchasers. Surely in such a land as this our boys and girls can find much
to interest and amuse.
Only two stories of this land can we tell the readers of MERRY MATES
Lawrence Coster lived in the sleepy old town of Harlem. One day he
took his children into the country to hear the birds sing, to sit beneath the
trees, and to breathe the fresh air. While the children are at play an idea
comes to him. Why not carve the letters of the alphabet on separate blocks,
ink them, and then stamp any word in the language? He goes home, pre-
pares his blocks, ties them with a string and prints a pamphlet. Heretofore
books have been written with a pen. How slow! Men have spent a lifetime
in writing one book, aye, have begun when young, have toiled early and late,
and have died with the work unfinished.
The Egyptians and Chinese have carved letters on blocks, have printed
from blocks, but this quiet Dutchman from Harlem is the first to tie letters into
words and print from them.
His success is so great that he employs John Guttenberg to help him.
Coster dies but his secret lives in the breast of the sturdy man who has helped
him. And what shall come of this? With printed books comes knowledge.
Men begin to read. Then to think, and with thinking comes liberty with its
priceless heritage. Almost five hundred years have passed since Lawrence
Coster carved his children's names on the tree near Harlem, but his idea is
growing yet. What shall come of it ?
Of all the people in Europe none are more peaceful than the Dutch.
Philip of Spain is their king. He taxes them heavily; he takes their property;
he throws them into prison. Men are burned at the stake. Thousands are put
to death, are thrust into jail, are driven into exile. Then the people rebel.
Philip calls them "beggars;" they accept the term and choose for their leader
William, "The Silent Man." He gives his time, his money, his energy to their
cause; he is defeated in battle again and again; his wealth is gone; he has not
the price of a breakfast, yet he gathers another army to drive the Spaniards out.
In 1574 the Spaniards besiege Leyden, and Philip, feasting and drinking in
his palace in Spain, offers pardon to the people if they will surrender. But the
brave Hollanders say: "We have committed no crime, we want no pardon. As
long as life lasts we will fight for our liberty." Philip orders his officers to level
Leyden to the ground. The Spaniards hold all the forts and redoubts. They
pitch their tents on every side. The people of Leyden can send messages to
their friends on the outside only by means of pigeons. They are starving.
Half a pound of meat and half a pound of bread apiece is all they have left.
This thealdermenweigh out to each person. The Burgomasters say: "We will
pay a bounty for the head of every Spaniard." Every citizen is a soldier. Now
and then a man steals out and kills a Spaniard, cuts off his head, and brings it
in and sticks it upon a pole on the walls so the Spaniards may see it. Cruel
days are those. Philip says: "Starve the beggars into submission." "The
Silent Man" cannot drive off the invaders, but there is one course left. He can'
cut the dykes and drown out the hated Spaniards. "Let it be done," say the
people, "we can pump the water out again. Better a drowned land than a
lost land." "Cut the sluices," is the order of "The Silent Man." The dykes
are cut. Men must leave their homes. They take their cattle, their pigs, their
goats, their goods, and hasten to Amsterdam. The water rises slowly but
steadily. The Spaniards are wonder-struck. A fleet of two hundred armed
ships loaded with food is coming to the rescue. The people are jubilant. The
Spaniards are filled with terror. The fleet comes on, now but five miles away.
Then the water falls and the ships are stranded in the mud. The Spaniards
laugh; the people are starving by thousands, yet they will not yield. Bread,
there is none, Dogs, cats, rats are eaten, only a few cows are left. One is
killed and every part eaten. They boil the hide, the horns, the intestines and
make a soup. They eat the leaves from the trees, the grass from the streets.
"Give up the city," cry a few faint-hearted ones. But brave Peter Vander
Werff, the burgomaster, says: "Never. Take my sword, plunge it into my
body, divide my flesh among you, but God help me, I will never surrender."
Brave man. Night comes. The city can hold out no longer. The wind turns,
the waves roll in, the ships are afloat, when the morning dawns they are close
upon the town. The Spaniards are panic-stricken. They fly along the dyke.
The people harpoon them, and drive them into the sea.
Night comes again. The waves roll higher. Crash! sounds the falling
wall. The people stand aghast, for now the Spaniards can enter the town.
Morning comes but the Spaniards are gone. They fled at midnight frightened
by the falling wail. The ships sail in. The sailors toss meat and bread to the
starving people, who eat like famished wolves.
After they have eaten they enter their churches and fall upon their knees,
and give thanks to God who has saved them from the cruel soldiers of Philip.
---; -- '-
A Pilurep from framne
j OODEN shoesstaff in hand,
Cottron cap o'er hair in cur',
Ju-t a maid of Normandy,
Watching cattle on the lea-
Just a little peasant girl.
glimpses of other &an&.
ND here we are in sunny France, a land of war and strife, the home
of some of the best and some of the worst of mankind. But
how restful to the eye are the broad meadows of Normandy
after a stormy trip across-the sea.
J s 'Here are the peasants toiling in the fields and even the chil-
"- -dren must do what they can. We see the little girl in the picture
watching the sheep. Her patient face tells a sad tale of want and
poverty; but little of joy and pleasure are known to her, .her only
amusement being tolisten to the legends her elders tell her. Two of them
are so good we repeat them for the readers of MERRY MATES.
The first is the story of the
OLD WOMAN'S COW.
When St. Peter and St. John were visiting the poor in Brittany they
stopped one day to rest at a farm house among the trees, where they met a
little old woman who kindly brought them a pitcher of cool water.
After the saints had drunk, the old woman told them the story of her hard
life. She had seen better days, she said; her husband had once owned a cow,
but he had lost it, and he now was only a laborer on the place.
"Let me take the stick in your hand," said St. Peter.
The saint struck the stick on the ground, and up came a fine cow with
udders full of milk.
"Holy Virgin!" said she, "what made that cow come up from the ground?'
"The grace of God," said St. Peter.
When the saints had gone, the old woman wondered whether, if she were
to strike with the stick on the ground, another would appear.
She struck the ground as she had seen St. Peter do, when up came an
enormous wolf and killed the cow.
The old woman ran after the saints and told her alarming story.
"You should have been content," said St. Peter, "with the cow that the
Lord gave you. It shall be restored you."
She turned back and found the cow at the door lowing to be milked.
The other is the story of
THE WONDERFUL SACK.
St. Christopher was a ferry-man, who dwelt in Brittany.
One day the Lord came and wished to cross the river with the twelve
St. Christopher, instead of using a ferry boat, carried the travelers across
the river on his broad shoulders.
When he had thus taken over the Lord and his Apostles, he claimed his
"What will you have?" asked the Lord.
"Ask for Paradise," said St. Peter.
"No," said Christopher; "I ask that whatsoever I may desire may at all
times be put into my sack."
"You shall have your wish; but nevei desire money,"
One day the Evil One came to St. Christopher and tempted him to wish
They fell to fighting, and the fight lasted two whole days; but, just as the
Evil One seemed about to overcome the saint, the latter said:-
"In the name of the Lord, get into my sack."
In a moment the Evil One was in the sack, and St. Christopher tied the
string, and took him to a blacksmith,,and requested the use of a hammer.
Then St. Christopher and the smith hammered the Evil One as thin as a
"I own I am beaten," said a voice from the sack. "Now let me out."
"On one condition," said the saint.
"That you will never trouble me again."
The ferry-man now began to lead a life of charity. He never thought of
-himself, but lived wholly for others; and everyone loved him, and all that
were in distress came to him for comfort.
One day he died, full of years, and, taking with him his wonderful sack,
he started for the gates of Paradise.
St. Peter opened the gate. But when he saw that the new-comer was
St. Christopher, who had slighted his counsel, he refused to admit him.
Hardly knowing what he did, the saint went down the mountain, until he
came to the gate of the region where bad souls dwell.
A youth at the gate said to him,-"Come in."
The gate opened, and the Evil One saw him.
"Shut the gate!-shut the gate!" said the Evil One to the youth.
Far away the Holy City lay in all its beauty, and up the hill again with a
heavy heart went St. Christopher.
"If I could only get my sack inside the gate I could wish myself into it
and once inside the gate I would never be turned out."
He came up to the gate again, and called for St. Peter.
The saint opened the gate a little.
"I pray you in charity," said St. Christopher, "let me listen to the music."
The gate was set a little more ajar. Immediately St. Christopher threw
his sack within; he wished, and in a moment he was in the sack himself,-and.
he has remained in the region of light, music, flowers, and happiness ever since.
fhbe Ohil6ren in the trpeets.
The sweetest sounds in the city wide
Are those when the children shout and call
In the hollow streets at eventide,
When the mellow western shadows fall;
They run and they jump,
They tumble and bump,
In the sounding streets in the evening time.
Many a time I have tripped over Tot,
And broken my shins over Jacks and Jims;
But I went on my way and heeded it not,
For the laugh of a child is the sweetest of hymns.
They scream and they shout,
And they scamper about,
In the joyous streets in the evening time.
But growlers that growl and bachelors old,
Cry out at the game and object to the din;
They snarl and complain, they croak and they scold,
At the child who plays in the streets-it's a sin.
Let them tumble and leap,
Like wee, wee sheep,
In the sounding streets of the evening time.
In @unnV c~pain
HAPPY children they who play
'Neath those cloudless summer skies'
Ever fresh delights arise,
Life is sunshine all day long;
With guitar and dance and song
Glide the joyous hours away.
~ -~ -- ~-
1 il_: ~--------.I~r :
'*'. I I '.
@limpes of Other @ands.
FTER our visit with French children we hasten at once by the
slowest of trains to Madrid, the capital of Spain. The city
disappoints us. The streets are wide and clean, but it is
built in the midst of a barren plain, and there are no pleas-
ant suburbs, as is the case with most of our own cities. The
SMonzanares river runs through it, and such a river! We can
hardly get a cupful of water from it. The Spanish boys joke
about the river and advise their elders to sell the bridges and
S... buy some water. It is said that a traveler while in Madrid
became very thirsty, but on being handed a glass of water
said, "Take it to the river. It needs it more than I do." But we
are hungry and seek a restaurant. On entering we take off our
hats, and, bowing low, say in the best Spanish we can muster, "Give us some
dinner at once." While the waiter, a comical fellow with a great mustache and
carrying a guitar, is getting our dinner we look around. A tall Spaniard enters,
sits down at a table and orders some sugar, which he puts in a tumbler of water
and sips with seemittg relish. Nine others, cloaked and silent, enter, sit oppo-
site and watch him drink. Some play dominoes, all smoke, but some of them
sit in silence. Not a very lively sight, is it?
But here is our Spanish dinner.
Onion soup, a stew easier eaten than named, a meat omelette, stewed
partridges. We wash them down with agraz, a delicious lemonade, and michie
michi or half-and-half, as the Spaniards seldom drink wine. The dinner tastes
of oil, garlic and pepper, but we are hungry and enjoy the meal.
By hurrying we can-get to the Plaza de Foros in time to see a bull fight,
the national pastime. The ring is in a large round building, much like a circus
tent. Thousands of people are there, the men in round felt hats, embroidered
jackets and bright red sashes; the women are deeply veiled, but their fans of
silk, satin or paper are most beautiful. Soon we hear a knocking. The people
are tired of waiting and are kicking the wooden seats. The trumpet sounds
and a man rides in to ask permission to begin. The president throws him a key
adorned with ribbons, which he tries to catch in his hat, but fails and retires
amidst the laughter of the crowd.
The trumpets sound again and the doors are opened. In ride the lancers
on horses lean, gaunt and lame. Then come the chulos, whose duty it is to
* -~-~ L~~5
* -* *
-' --bj L
au i Ow~i
0HZ THE XMMY DAY HAs PLEASAJT HOMRS.
r~-~ _-; I
madden the bull with their pranks; after them the banderilleros, who dart sharp
arrows into the bull's neck; and these are followed by the matadores, who will
end the poor brute's torment with their long, sharp swords. Lastly come the
mules decked with little flags and bells to drag away the bulls that may be
killed. After the parade the mules pass out and a fiery black bull enters. He
has been roused to anger by the goad and dashes madly around the ring. The
chulos approach waving their cloaks and using all their arts to annoy him. The
bull charges first at one and then at another, but they leap lightly aside.
While this is passing the lancers follow behind and prick him with their
sharp spears. The bull turns and before the nearest lancer can escape thrusts
his long horn into the horse's side and dashes horse and rider to the ground.
The horse struggles on, but the bull attacks him again, and this time the poor
beast falls to rise no more. Mad with fury the bull rushes upon the others and
soon has gored four horses and seriously wounded one rider, who is borne out of
the ring, the people shouting "Bravo, Toro."
The trumpets sound again and the banderilleros enter carrying two short
darts adorned with colored paper. The bull rushes at them, but they jump
nimbly aside and fix their darts in his neck as he dashes past. Some of these
darts have crackers attached, which go off, rousing the bull to greater fury. A
single blast of the trumpet and the gaily dressed matadore enters. He is the hero
of many fights and is greeted with loud shouts. He carries on his arm a red
cloak and in his hand a long sharp sword. He waves his hat three times as a
sign of death and bravely walks toward the bull, still being worried by his
tormentors. As soon as the bull sees the red cloak he dashes furiously at it.
The matadore dodges him skillfully. Again and again the bull returns to the
attack, but each time fails to reach his light-footed foe. As the bull comes
again the matadore throws the cloak over his horns. The people rise in expec-
tation, for the final moment has come. As the bull tries to escape from the
cloak the matadore plunges his sword to the hilt in the back of the poor animal,
which, vomiting blood, falls to the ground dead.
The trumpet sounds, the mules enter and the carcass is dragged away.
The matadore bows to the cheering audience and retires. We have seen
enough, and we depart filled with horror at the cruel custom we have seen.
La^ w --^^e11111
-' 'n.EATH the blue Italian skies
I *' Girl and bcy sat angling;
'I. I I" III,' V I .' -.. .
"Il' I-, But the sun w-as in their eyes,
T 'I, Y,
'Tll, I,, ,Rods were idly dang ling.
S Then the heat grew nore intense,
*iI Almost beyond bearing;
,-,_.. Fishing then was a pretense,
For it they'd no caring.
jWonder you no fish they had
EATHIn their bluasket keeping?
BuFirst the girl and then the lad
Soon were soundly sleeping.
.- = '- '" -
,limpses of Other Lands.
ROM Spain to Italy is such a short journey that we have not
had time to forget the horrid sights of the bull fight ere we
Find ourselves in the city of Genoa, where over four hundred
Years ago lived a boy, the son of a humble wool-spinner, who
spent his time in study and in later life discovered the land we
love so much.
This evening we will go to the Theatre of the Puppets where
S the acting is done by little figures about three feet high and the
speaking by people hidden behind the scenes. They play a drama
of three acts and the tiny figures are very much in earnest. After the drama
comes-the ballet with a delightful fairy scene. In the distance is a little lake
with a tiny canoe. ,The fairies rush and twist themselves into all sorts of shapes,
but the fairy queen and a mortal who- has strayed into fairyland dance most
Then the scene changes to the fairy's home, the rosebuds open showing
the little children within, the cherubs come down from the clouds, and as
the whole is splendidly illumined by the electric light, how the children around
us clap their hands and shout for joy.
Bed and breakfast and we are out in the busy streets next day near the
wharf. The streets are so narrow that people in the upper, stories can almost
shake hands from opposite windows. But what a motley crowd upon the street.
Priests and monks walking about. Genoese women with white cloaks fastened
at the back with gold or silver arrows, and with the prettiest head-dress we
have ever seen; galley slaves with chains upon their legs, dressed in the coarse
prison garb mending the roads; fishermen in red caps eating great strings of
maccaroni, barbers shaving customers under awnings and upon the sidewalks,
women washing their clothes, and lustily beating them with sticks of wood as if
guilty of some terrible crime; sailors from every clime, street musicians making
the day hideous, hucksters crying their wares; all conspire to make a most
amusing scene from which we are loth to part.
But we must on to Pisa where we visit the leaning tower. As we stand
beneath it we are frightened lest it fall upon us. But it has stood for ages, and
will stand for ages to come. There is a peal of bells inside, the largest one
weighing six tons on the upper side to balance the tower as far as possible. We
climb the winding staircase and feel insecure when we reach the top. But what
esIL anUU AT AL Am
a view greets us. By our side winds the Arno, a silver thread upon the land-
scape; in front of us is the sea dancing in the sunlight, back of us the Appenines
rise in grandeur, their snow-capped tops looking down upon us, while close at
hand lies the Campo Santo cemetery. Fifty ship-loads of earth have been
brought from the Holy Land so that its people may repose in sacred soil. The
cloisters surrounding it have many famous frescoes upon their walls. One is
the "Triumph of Death," in which the souls as they come from the dead are
seized by good or evil spirits. Yonder fresco represents "The Last Judgment."
This one, "The Torments of Hell." We shudder as we gaze upon it.
But time is short, and we must on to Rome with its famous churches, its
wonderful picture galleries and its interesting relics freighted with the history
of its mighty past. A tour around the city and we bring up at the Coliseum.
Ruin that it is, we stand with uncovered heads in its mighty vastness. Built in
the first century of the Christians era it bids fair to endure as long as time shall
last. Eighty-seven thousand people could find seats within it. How vast it is,
and yet, for four hundred years it has been the quarry from whence Rome has
obtained stone for her churches and her public buildings. Tier upon tier of seats
still remain though but one-third of the original building is left. In the old time
these seats were covered with .white and colored marble, the whole building
splendid with ornaments of amber, ivory and gold, while over all was stretched
a vast expanse of richly painted canvass to keep out the rays of the burning
Yonder cross marks the arena in which the old Roman sports took place.
Upon its vast expanse chariot races have drawn the Romans there to witness
the most exciting sport the world has ever known; contests between wild beasts
and between armed gladiators have dyed it red with blood; groups of faithful
Christians have been torn to pieces by hungry tigers and lions amidst the shouts
of the Roman people.
As we gaze we can almost see the mighty theatre with its seats filled with
eager spectators, hear the roars of wild beasts, the cries of dying men and see
the crimson stains that marked a Roman festival. How fortunate the Coliseum
is but a ruin and can never more witness such sights as these.
(Children cf 'nlcent CJrecee.
O.HILDF.EN ut _the ,,ld.A.orld
In cl ass robes arravJd,
Co'il ,'u but speak to us to-day,
W',ould .,yu tell stones of the Wai
In whi.:h you 'worked and played?
I fancy rather we should hear
Tales from ol.l history's page- -
.Storis of heroes brave and true,
Of noble acts that men could do
Then, as in every agev
Glimpses of therer oanda.
HE story is told of Ulysses that after an absence of twenty
years he was borne across the seas and while asleep placed
upon the shores of his native land,
So let us pass over our trip from Italy and fancy that by
some magic we have been borne across the seas and awake in
A strange cry of "lola gola" rouses us and we rush to the
window to see a milk cart such as we left at home, andat once
conclude that "gola" must be the Greek word for milk. We eat our breakfast
of coffee, rolls and wild honey and start at once to see the city. The stone
houses and well paved streets in the new part of the city reminds us of Chi-
cago or New York, but the people and the street traffic are not the same. We
meet donkey after donkey-some loaded with great panniers of fruit and vege-
tables, others with eggs, butter and poultry, while some bear loads of brush-
wood so large that they are almost covered up, their heads and feet alone in
sight. Part of the donkeys and their drivers stop in front of the houses, and
the housewives supply themselves for the day, while the rest go on to the gen-
eral market with their wares. As we pass on we notice that many of the
stores are quite like those we left at home; one window has what we think
*is a dead animal, lying on its back with feet in the air. What is our surprise-
to find that it is the skin of an animal filled with lard. As the lard is sold the
skin is opened and turned back. One thinks of the goat skins of Bible times.
We enter the market and take a hungry look at the profusion of fruits,
figs, dates, raisins, olives, oranges and lemons, and all so cheap. We buy a
half-pound of figs and cannot believe it when the merchant tells us the price is
We wish to take a trip into the country, and as there is no other way we must
go on horseback. We find a man who hires horses, and we bargain for three
horses and a guide. The man gave us "earnest money," to be kept until the
journey was over to assure us that he would do as he agreed. Getting fairly
out of the city the good roads gave place to bridle paths, and these over the
mountains are rough and dangerous. The Greeks very aptly call them the
At night we stopped at a small village. There was no hotel but several
Greeks gathered around, and kindly invited us to go home with them. We
accepted the invitation from a priest as we wanted good company. They could
give us no supper but we had our own food with us, and with a little goat's milk
which we bought we got along very well. As we sat around the hearth we told
the priest we were from America, where it is six o'clock in the morning when it
is noon in Greece. "How can that be?" said the priest. We tried to explain to
him, but when we told him the earth was round he shook his head and said,
"Why then- do the people not fall off?"
When bed-time came we were given the middle of the floor for our bed-
room. The people are very poor and very ignorant, as you may know. We
spent some time on our journey and enjoyed the changing scenes far more
than we can tell. The snow-capped mountains, the groves of figs and olives,
the growing fields of cotton, the old, old ruins and the numberless Greek boys
and girls staring at us with mingled fear and curiosity can never be forgotten.
Greece has a richer history than any other land, and the readers of THE
MIATES will do well to study it.
One evening as we were sitting in our room our guide, Ali Bedair, told us
of the Battle of Marathon in a way so quaint we tell it here.
Thought has wings. Let us fly back to the Athens of years ago, a city of
temples, statues, palaces, gardens. The city is a camp. Tents are everywhere.
The soldiers are putting on their armor, the grooms are saddling the restive
horses, the captains are shouting their commands. The soldiers come out. The
morning sun glistens on their armor of polished brass. They look more like
gods than men. Messengers come running in-"The Great King" has landed.
"Where?"-"At Marathon." Solemn and grand is the march from Athens to
Marathon. "They will never return again," wail the women. "Battles are won
by valor, not numbers," say the sages. "If we are defeated, Athens is lost," is
repeated everywhere. "0, Athens, thy life is in the heroes, thy hope in their
spears. May the gods fight with our heroes to-day," is the prayer of all.
The Greeks are few, ten thousand. The Persians are many, one hundred
thousand. The Greeks are drawn up into solid compact columns. The Per-
sians are spread out and cover an immense field.
The Persians are drawn up in battle array. Its warriors are from every
nation which Persia rules. It is a splendid sight with its glistening shields, its
golden chariots, its fiery horses richly decked. The Persian King does not
dream of defeat.
There are solemn ceremonies in the Greek camp; a sacrifice is offered,
addresses are made, songs arise, songs to the gods for the liberties of Greece.
A great shout goes up-"Miltiades, Athens!" and the Greeks rush down the
mountain side with fierce cries, dealing death and ruin everywhere. The Per-
sians move slowly backward. "One Greek, ten Persians," cries the leader. "'Tis
enough," answer the men and they sweep on. The Persians fly, leaving six
thousand slain. Messengers carry the news to Athens. There are thanksgiv-
ings in the temples; Greece is free.
limpses of their r &an&b
F FTER a quiet, restful trip across the sea, a line of low sand-
hills and green waving palm-trees afford the first glimpse of
Egypt, the seat of our oldest civilization, the land of the Pyra-
mids and of the Sphinxes, the home of Moses and of Joseph,
the scene of the labors and death of St. Mark, the Apostle.
The steamer drops anchor in the harbor of Alexandria and the customs officers
inspect our baggage and passports, and pronounce them all right. An Arab with
yards of cloth around his head offers to take us on shore for four dollars, but
drops his price to sixty cents. He lands us at the wharf, and we escape the
horde of porters, dragomans and beggars and take an omnibus for the hotel.
A bath and a lunch, and we are on the street, for time is short. Dragomans dog
our steps to show us the town. Boys urge us to ride their donkeys. Shop-
keepers tempt us to buy wares, and on every side old Arabs sit cross-legged on
the ground, smoke their old pipes, and hold out their hand for backsheesh, or
money. The women we meet are veiled except the eyes. Some carry trays,
baskets or water-jugs on their heads, others carry children astride their shoul-
ders. They wear long cotton sacks of an indigo color, and have golden orna-
ments attached to a band around the head. The men wear camel's-hair shirts
which serve for coat and cloak.
Passing out of the business portion, we find mud hovels for homes, a hole
in the roof for the chimney, another in the wall for a window, the ground is the
floor. Men, women, naked children, dogs, goats, pigs and chickens live to-
gether. We have seen enough and take the first train for Cairo. The cars are
hot and stuffy. The ties are of iron, for there is no wood. We pass through
Arab villages where men, women and children lounge around the doors. Filth
and poverty are on every side. Though it is January, clover is in bloom. We
Lu -t1 j
UCH like the donkey-boys who stand
Throughout the summer by the sea
Are those in the Egyptian land,
Who ply their trade industriously,
And clamor for a customer,
And scarcely let a passer stir
Until he has agreed to ride
Through city streets or the bazaar,
Or where, majestic, side by side,
The Pyramids rise up afar.
L_ _ I _
see a camel and donkey yoked to a branch of a tree for a plough, merely scratch-
ing the soil. Buffaloes harnessed to great sweeps travel all day in a circle,
turning creaking wheels to raise water from the creeks to overflow the wheat
fields. We pass trains of camels and of donkeys winding along narrow paths,
carrying great bags of cotton. We see women mixing cut straw and mud,
moulding them into bricks and drying them in the sun, just as the children of
Israel did so long ago.
We reach Cairo, and get lost in its crooked, winding streets. The houses
are of stone, the second story jutting over the first, the third over the second,
the fourth over the third, until at the top there is but a small opening through
which the sun can shine.
The first story is divided into little closet-like rooms, not over six feet
square, which serve for stores. Shoemakers, blacksmiths, tailors and wood-
carvers sit in niches in the walls, working at their several trades.
Now we pass a gray-bearded man writing a letter for a lady who has not
acquired the art of writing. Across the street sits a follower of the prophet,
his legs crossed, rocking backward and forward, saying his prayers in a mono-
tonous sing-song tone. Passing along in the early morn, we meet a procession
of twenty women whose business it is to lament the dead. One older than the
rest leads off with a screech, and the others join her. The noise is hideous.
After an outburst of grief, they laugh and chat awhile and then begin their
wailing again. Out of the city, into the country we pass men and women cut-
ting clover with a small knife. We meet women going to market, a jar of but-
ter on their heads, a basket of eggs in one hand, live chickens in the other.
Some have walked ten miles. Men are plowing with a donkey yoked to a cow
for a team. Ahead of us are the Pyramids, their massive forms and smooth
sides standing out in bold relief and silently proclaiming the history of ages.
We wonder why and how they were built. We pay an old Arab sheik fifty
cents each; and selecting a couple of guides from the crowds gathered around,
ascend the Pyramids. We view the scenery at our leisure and descend. A
quiet trip back to the city, and we are glad to seek our rooms and get a good
night's rest before leaving this historic ground. We want to remain, but our
time is short, and if we want to see our own dear land at the appointed time,
we must bid good-bye to Egypt.
0 ----l---- 4
AWAY and away the Laplanders go,
In reindeer sledges across the snow,
With nothing to fear
Unless they hear
The distant howl of a bitter foe-
The howl of wolves across the snow.
dT'Q ~ -
@limp e of r(ther f)n6.
O-DAY we find ourselves in a cold, cheerless, uninviting
country, so near the North Pole that the sun does not
set in summer nor rise in winter. For nine months of
the year it is intensely cold while the months of July
and August are extremely hot. Spring and Fall con-
tinue for about two weeks each. Their long, dreary
winters are lighted up somewhat by the Aurora-Borealis
H or northern lights. We sometimes see this light in
America but never with the splendor which marks the Northern climes. There
they fill the heavens with long waving streamers of flame of all the gorgeous
colors of the rainbow.
Though the country itself is not pleasant to look upon, the people are inter-
esting to us. They are curious looking people, short and sturdy, with heavy
.stupid faces that bespeak but little intelligence. They are very strong and
seem never to grow weary, no matter what fatigue they undergo.
Some of their bows are so large that a powerful man cannot bend them,
yet they use them easily and shoot with wonderful force and accuracy.
They dress in skins or coarse wool, the women like the men, though the
former tie their hair up in a funny kind of knot. The mothers carry their babies
slung over their backs much like our Indians. Their houses are huts, or more
frequently tents, made of wood, with a hole in the top to let out the smoke.
Each tent has two doors, one for the women and one for the men, for it is an
unlucky sign to meet a Lapp woman coming out of her tent when going on
When a young man and a maiden are engaged, the young man must take
a flask of brandy to the girl's father whenever he visits her. You may be sure
that the father makes the courtship as long as possible, and the more infatuated
the youth is and the oftener his visits the better the father likes it.
After marriage the son-in-law must remain and work for the girl's father a
year before he can take her to his house.
Their most useful animal is the reindeer. These animals cost their
masters nothing for food, as they dig down beneath the snow with their sharp
hoofs for a kind of a moss which is very abundant there.
The reindeer has long branching horns to which the reins are fastened.
They carry burdens, drag sleighs, and will easily travel one hundred miles in a
day. When a Lapp wishes to take a journey he whispers in the ear of his rein-
deer the place to which he is going, as well as the several resting-places, as he
firmly believes that the reindeer will understand and save him trouble.
Besides acting as a beast of burden the reindeer provides the Lapp with
milk and cheese as well as meat. The skins are made into boots, caps, coats
and other wearing apparel: the horns are made into spoons, knives and other ar-
ticles: the sinews are made into thread and cords; the bones are made into tips
for their arrows. You can easily see how highly a Lapp values his herd of
Here stands a sleigh and the owner invites us to ride. We wrap ourselves
up well in the heavy robes and the team starts. How easily and how rapidly
the deer run, how merrily the bells tinkle as we glide along. We ride a couple
of hours and can scarcely believe that we have ridden twenty miles, it has been
such a pleasant, easy ride.
The Lapps are very fond of hunting, and when they go out for wolves, elks
or bears, they put on their long, canoe-shaped snow-shoes, with which they get
over the ground very fast, despite their heavy garments and unwieldy arms.
Their principal weapon is the bow and arrow, in the use of which they are very
skillful. They attack the bears in open ground and the battles are often fierce
and dangerous. They endeavor first to wound the bear so he can not escape
and then finish him with clubs and axes. The man who kills a bear is con-
sidered a great hero; he is feasted for three days by his village, has songs sung
in his praise, and wears a decoration in his cap ever afterward as a mark of
There are no schools; the children growing up in dense ignorance. They
are hospitable though not particularly social among themselves. They have
but few amusements outside of the chase. Their food is coarse and simple,
they being very fond of fat in any form, and the amount an able-bodied Lapp
can dispose of at-a single meal would strike dismay into the heart of the aver-
age boarding-house keeper.
In spite of their cold, desolate country and their cheerless, monotonous life
they seem happy and contented and prove that man can get 'along on earth
with very little if compelled to.
@limpses of theirr anbs.
E have had a long.and monotonous journey since we left the arid
plains and fertile valleys of Egypt, and as our good ship en-
ters the harbor of Nagosaki, the sight of houses, hills, trees and
People fills us with delight. As we come to anchor the scene
before us is a pretty one. A few ships lay lazily upon the
waters, native junks, Japanese gunboats, French, English and
American men-of-war are there, and how we all cheer as we
see the stars and stripes hanging at the mast-head of the latter. The city lies
upon a level plain with suburbs rising upon the slopes of lofty, tree-covered hills
in the rear, the whole making a pleasant change from the broad expanse'of water
we have seen so long.
But time is too short to tarry on board, and summoning a boat we pull for
the wharf. The streets are well paved and cross each other at right-angles, but
we see no drays, carts or carriages drawn by horses as we pass along. Every-
thing is carried by coolies; they are the beasts of burden. Their great loads,
their sad, stolid, stupid faces move us to pity; their splendid physique, their
swelling muscles, their easy carriage, move us to admiration.
As we pass on through the business portion of the city a shopkeeper, before
whose door we stop, invites us to enter; we accept and marvel at the display.
Work-boxes of unique design, handsomely painted tea trays, lacquered ware,
gayly decorated fans, ivory carved in fantistic forms, costly rugs and delicate pot-
tery are found on every side. In the rear of the shop, separated by movable
screens, are the living-rooms of the family. The mother greets us kindly, and
with many a nod and wink motions us to seats, -then crouches at our feet, and
shows us pictures and other works of art. One picture especially amuses us,
yet we dare not laugh. In the fore-ground is a boat in which are several gayly
dressed ladies, one of them holding an umbrella which shelters several ships in
the distant harbor as well as the city on the shore with its groves and gardens.
The ducks sporting in the water half a mile away are nearly as large as the
ships near at hand. Yet the coloring is brilliant aud harmonious. The lady of
the house points to it with pride as the choicest of her works of art. We thank
them as well as we can, purchase a work-box, a tray and a fan and depart.
As we pass up the street we notice little Jap girls at play, their baby
brothers and sisters strapped on their backs, something after the fashion of our
American Indians. The little ones laugh and coo and seem to enjoy their out-
,o eJiapanese L'uasles
S, AR away in old Japan,
Lived two lassies quaint
And their names so strangely
Scarce I know how they
And can't spell them, I declare.
Silk atiired,' iiih flowers and fan,
'Mid soft lantern light they
And a merry din they made,
Just as English children can-
Far away in old Japan.
a.~i I.L,~ -
I 'A Ih.
ings very much. Some of them are asleep and rest quietly in spite of the some-
what boisterous play of their nurses. We feel that this method of caring for
the babies has its advantages. They get the fresh air, and the best of care,
while their little nurses get their shoulders braced back and some valuable les-
sons in patience as well.
We see little tots two years and upward with their dolls slung over their
shoulders in imitation of their elders.
As we pass on we see the children running to meet a little man carrying a
queer looking outfit. When we come up to him we find he is the griddle cake
man and has an entire kitchen with him. He has a stove and a jar of batter, and
lets the children dip the batter on the griddle, turn it and bake it. Of course
they enjoy the eating of it best.
We also meet what the children call the boiled sugar man." This man
carries all sorts of little moulds and a jar of boiling sugar and makes sugar
cats, mice, dolls, kites, horses and all sorts of toys. He moulds these as the
children want them and drives a busy trade as long as the children have any
pennies. The unfortunate ones without money follow him from street to
street with longing looks but to no avail, He sells for cash only.
The children all wear wooden shoes and make a great clatter as they pass
along the pavement, These shoes are large and roomy and give the foot a
chance to develop. Among the Japs corns and bunions are unknown, and
though their shoes are heavy they save themselves many miseries by their use,
These shoes cost two cents per pair and will last six months. Some parents
with whom our readers are acquainted would like to get off as easily on shoe
bills. The Japs always -take off their shoes on entering a house, lest they
wear out the mats and rugs which take the place of carpets. Their stock-
ings are knit with a separate compartment for the great toe like the thumb for
a mitten. This gives them the use of that toe, and you would be surprised to
know how much they use it. Japanese workmen nearly all employ their toes
in holding their tools, and the way they pick up different articles with their feet,
makes an American boy stare.
Tired with our ramble, we concluded to call a 7inrikisha, a queer-looking
two-wheeled cart without springs, drawn by a Jap, We get in and the Jap
trots off, How the cart does jolt. We conclude that walking is preferable, but
find some comfort in the fact that our steed will not run away with us. These
carts are quite thick upon the streets and the people patronize them freely.
They urge the man drawing the cart by cries and shouts as though he were a
We enter a restaurant or tea-house. and the proprietor, pleased to have
the patronage of foreigners, bustles about to serve us. We seat ourselves at a
small table on which are tea-cups of the finest porcelain and exquisitely decor-
ated. The host pours the tea from a long handled pot, filling our cups again
and again until we can drink no more. We pay him his price, five cents for
thirty cups, and depart leaving him well satisfied with the large sale he has
Out upon the streets again we meet a funeral procession, the mourners all
in white, a custom the opposite of ours and yet more appropriate. The dead
are usually buried at sunset, and two pieces of bamboo are put at the head of
the grave on which flowers are hung every morning during the period of mourn-
ing. This is done by the relations of the corpse, and they are not seen in pub-
lic at any other time during this period.
But it is evening now and we must return to our waiting ship. We have
seen so many strange sights and have been so well entertained by these Japs
that we go with the determination to have other glimpses of these curious peo-
ple at some future day.
Y TE TRIED IT
OyE R FIND 0YER ,
iS \AtITH- ME
TO PLA, Y
VITH TH E
BIRD'S-EYE VI EW OF SAN FRANOISCO.
R omenward found .
FTER our day in Nagasaki we went back to the wharf to take pas.
sage on the good ship Colorado for home. Although we were
loth to leave the pleasant sights of the Old World, there was 'joy
in the thought that soon we should see our own dear land again.
When we reached the wharf all was confusion. A hundred coolies
were loading the last of the cargo, hurrying along with great loads
S in response to the sharp cries and stern orders of the officers in
charge. But at last all is settled, the parting gun is fired and the great ship
steams slowly down the bay with an easy, restful motion, quite in contrast to
our ride in the 7inrikiska a few hours before. We have fifty first-class pas-
sengers aboard, and over a thousand Chinese immigrants, though the latter can
hardly be called immigrants, as they go to the United States not to remain but
to save up two or three hundred dollars and then return to their native land to
live a life of luxury and ease. Among our cabin-passengers are twenty from
Europe who take this as the shortest and cheapest route to America.
The days pass slowly by. We walk and talk and read, yet time hangs
heavily. Each day we spend three hours in writing the notes taken on our
journey, and three more in reading about the countries we have visited. Only
one incident occurs to relieve the monotony of our journey. On the fourth day
trouble broke out in the steerage among the Chinese. What the cause of it
was we could not learn, but when the captain reached the seat of. war they were
engaged in a free-for-all fight that would do credit to the famous cats of Kil-
kenny. All efforts to stop the battle proved useless, until the captain ordered
some of the men to turn on the hose. This was effectual. Whether water was
an element with which they were unacqainted we could not tell, but certain it
is that the first volley put them all to flight. The hose was pointed at the leader
of one of the factions and mowed a swath through the ranks in short order
*Men went down before it as though it were a cannon ball and the air was filled
with piteous shrieks from the prostrate wretches, which was more than off-set
by the comical appearance they presented. Incidentally the steerage got a
thorough drenching of which it stood much in need. But from that time on
peace reigned in the steerage.
On the morning of the twentieth day out the captain tells us that before
night we shall be in San Francisco. Trunks are packed, parcels are tied, and
all is prepared for leaving the old ship which has carried us so far. We have
been gazing upon ancient Italy, Greece, Egypt and Japan, covered with the
dust of ages, and can hardly realize that home is so near. We enter the Golden
Gate and gaze with awe and admiration upon the scene before us. The broad
bay is alive with shipping from every clime. Tow boats are puffing and steam-
ing across the bay dragging great ships in their wake, like ants tugging at
something thrice their size. The city seems built upon hills, house rising above
house, steeple above steeple, until we ask where can they end. Great chimneys
pour out dense volumes of smoke, locomotives send out their piercing shrieks
and ring their clanging bells, the distant hills throwing back confused, dis-
cordant echoes. The streets are crowded with cars, drays, coaches, omnibuses
and human beings,'and amidst the tumult and roar school-houses rise peaceful
and serene, their youthful occupants intently studying their allotted tasks, all
unmindful of the din which so nearly distracts us. And yet, but a quarter of a
century ago, this busy, noisy city was but an unimportant trading-post uncon-
scious of its latent power. What other people but our own could have made
this change? Its reality is more wonderful than the fiction of the Old World.
While we have been drinking in the scene before us, the ship has been
drawing nearer and now lies at the wharf. We disembark, and disdaining the
offers of cabmen, hackmen and porters, make our way on foot to the hotel, so
pleased are we to tread American soil again. How we long to become better
acquainted with the wonders of this enchanted land. But our stay has already
been prolonged,/and next day we board the cars for home. The ride across the
continent is tedious and weary, yet can never be forgotten. The beautiful val-
leys, the wierd gulches, the snow-capped mountains, the arid plains, the thriv-
ing towns, the vigorous cities, the thrifty farms form a picture that can never
fade. But better than all is the sight of Chicago when it comes into view. How
our hearts beat as we see the familiar sights. What joy in our greeting to "Old
Frank," our.horse, and John the coachman, as they stand waiting for us out-
side the depot. With what pride we point to the stately buildings on either
side as we pass the streets. .What new beauties we discover as we pass the
parks where we have played so often, what bliss to greet mother and sister with
warm embrace and loving kiss after months of absence. What intense delight
that we are home again!
Another Rind of 5arP.
HEN the sun has set of a warm day in
summer, and the moon is not yet up, and
the stars are coming out one by one, if
Syou go into the meadow, you will see another kind of star. This is the glow-
worm. Though so called, it is not a real worm. It is a kind of grub, with a
pale fire, or glow, at the end of its tail. But this is not like the fire that cooks
your food, and keeps you warm. It will not burn, or give out heat. If you
take the bug in your hand it can not harm you. It will walk up and down, all
over it, and will cast a glow so that you will be able to see it well.
Why do you suppose this little glow-worm carries this funny light? So
that its mate may find it in the dark, perhaps. It lies at rest all day, waking
at dusk, when it comes out at the same time with the bat and the Qwl.
ET your map and perhaps you can find the island of New
Guinea. Ah, here it is, lying near the equator and extending
several hundred miles south of that. This island is worth our
study. It is about four times as large as the six New England
states. Of course, no frost is known in that region-the trees
are always green, the flowers always blooming. Here we find
the banana, the palm, the cocoanut and fruits in abundance. Our picture
shows the banana tree in front and a couple of cocoanut trees in the rear.
These trees usually surround the homes of the East India man. They are
chosen not for ornament and shade but for their fruit. These fruits are not the
most abundant and cheapest in the island, yet almost any other could be gotten
along without much better than they.
The banana is to the East India people what bread is to the Americans.
An &qm Jnnbdn Rome,
The cocoanut not only furnishes them food but its oil is used for light and a
cooling, pleasant drink is also obtained from it. The houses in that part of the
world are very much alike. The poorer class-and those include nearly all the
people -build entirely with bamboo and roof with palm leaves. No sound of
hammer is heard in building these houses; a saw and hatchet is all that is
needed. The saw cuts the poles into a required length. The hatchet splits
and dresses those that are to be used for siding and floor. The posts are set
frmly in the ground a few feet apart and some eight feet above the surface.
The first and only floor is laid a few feet above the ground; the rafters are set
at a moderate pitch. The poles and slats are tied together when necessary.
The palm leaf shingles that are then put upon them are fastened in the same
way. The leaves which are used for this purpose are from the mangrove; they
are long and narrow and while green are bent over a stick about three feet long,
so as to lie in courses. One of these leaf roofs, when laid well, will last from
eight to ten years without leaking. The houses have no windows. Upon one
side is a door that can be opened and shut at pleasure; this door is made of
basket work and serves to let in the light. The lower story of the house is
never enclosed. This is, they say, due to a fear of the overflow of rivers, the
fear of wild beasts and serpents and also the thought that sickness results from
living and sleeping on the ground. It would seem that this mode of building is
rather a habit than anything else, as in every locality, even where there is no
danger of overflow from water or where are no serpents or wild beasts, the houses
are built in the same way. If a native is asked why the houses are built so high,
the usual answer is, "Our'houses are frail and we build high to keep away from
robbers." The door is reached by a light narrow ladder, which by night is
drawn up, and with the door tied the natives feel quite secure. No fire is ever
built in one of these-dwellings; the cooking is done outside. The furniture is
very meagre indeed; it seldom exceeds two or three grass mats, a couple of rush
pillows, a rice pot and frying pan of earthenware, a betel box and a spittoon.
The cost of these houses is not very great. They seldom exceed $12 or $15,
and one native reported.to his employer, after an absence of four days, "that
he had married a wife and built and furnished a house, all at an expense of $6.oo."
Not all the people of New Guinea are fortunate enough to have houses. Thou-
sands live, year in and year out, without a roof of their own to give them shelter,
with only the ground for their bed and the sky for covering. Nature has pro-
vided so abundantly for these people that they are but little disposed to provide
Banana and Plantain.
4 AVE vou ever eaten a banana?
Yes, of course.
But do you know where
Sit comes from? Perhaps not, and r
We will de ill tell ou.
a s a e te Banana and plantain are two
names for plants very much alike. The
banana fruit is fine and sweet and eaten
in:The plantain is large and coarse, and must be
cooked before it is fit for fruit. These plants grew
in China man), hundred years ago. The Indians
of South America planted them in their gardens before
this country was known to the rest of the world.
We will describe the banana, which will answer for both. A tiny shoot
appears above the ground. This may be in the garden of the negro, in the
West Indies. He has cut down the great trees inthe forest and made an open-
ing in the thick woods, where the sun can come in. In this clearing, after he has
burned off the brush and trees, he finds a rich soil. Here he plants hisgarden,
BE NOHIMA OLLAIMI3SG HIS HORSE.
If the earth is moist, and a stream runs near by, the little green bud pushes
itself up very fast. It is seeking the sunlight. It grows into a great stem, per-
haps twenty feet high, and unrolls broad silky leaves. In the mountain valleys,
guarded from the wind, they grow to be nearly ten feet long and two feet broad.
They look like sheets of green silk, and are very beautiful. But sometimes the
wind tears them into ragged ribbons.
From the stalk, now very thick and tall, a slender stem shoots out. It
grows more and more, and little buds appear, which open into flowers. These
flowers are full of honey, and attract bees and butterflies and humming-birds.
The flowers drop off and the fruit begins to form. Later on, the stalk is hung
with bananas, in rows about it, each one five or six inches long, green at first,
then turning yellow as it ripens.
They are full of soft sweet pulp. A stem may have more than a hundred
on it, and may weigh eighty pounds. In the West Indies this bunch may be
bought for 24 cents. Just think of buying four bananas for a cent.
It has been said that it takes as much land to yield one thousand pounds of
potatoes as would give forty thousand pounds of bananas. It lives well in
Florida but north of that the frosts of winter kill it.
This picture was taken by me in Florida. There the poor people and negroes
plant the banana about their houses, and it gives them shade as well as fruit to
eat. They live in idleness, content to get their food so easily.
It takes from a year to eighteen months for a plant to grow and ripen its
fruit. Then its labor is done. Like the century plant it blossoms but once,
then dies. But new shoots spring up from the roots, that bear fruit in their
turn. A garden thus planted will go on for many years.
-FREDERICK A. OBER,
he X\ise Wabi of I e hid.
NCE upon a time there lived on the edge of the desert a sheik
named Ben Achma. His renown for wisdom was so great that
even old men from the neighboring tribes came to submit their
quarrels to him and abide by his judgment. One day a caravan
from Meshid encamped near his dwelling. Two Arabs, water-
ing their camels at the well, discoursed about the wisdom of the
Kadi of Meshid.
"He can repeat the Koran," said one, "from the Fattha to the end, without
dropping a point."
"He cuts through deceit as with a knife," said the other.
Ben Achma, on hearing this, arose. "Tell me, 0 brother," said he, "who
is this wise man thou art so eager to praise ?"
"What!" replied the camel-driver, "hast thou not heard-of Haleel, Kadi of
Meshid? Wallah! Even the Father of the Faithful himself is as green tree
Next morning Ben Achma saddled his horse and, disguised as a simple
merchant, started for Meshid himself, to see and listen to the sage. As he jour-
neyed an old man met him in the way, who said, "My lord, I, like thyself, am
traveling to the next town; but I am weary; I pray thee permit me to ride."
Ben Achma made a sign of assent, and the pilgrim jumped up behind. When
they had come to the gates of Meshid the sheik desired his companion to
"Nay," said he; "it is for thee to alight."
"To leave the horse with me."
"But," cried the sheik, "thou knowest, rogue, that he is mine!"
"I know," said the-old vagabond, "that we are now in the city of the just
Kadi, and that when he shall have set eyes on us two-thou with thy stout
limbs, me with my feeble frame-he will decide that the horse belongs to him
who has most need of him."
"If he decide contrary to that which is true and right," returned tne sheik,
"he is not the just Kadi thou sayest. Nevertheless, I will profit by thy evil
doing to judge of his equity." They started for the court, but had to wait awhile
as two other cases took precedence.
The first of these bore upon a quarrel between a butcher and an oil-
merchant. Both men were in court standing before the Kadi, the one all grimy
with oil, the other bespattered with blood.
The butcher said, "I went to buy oil at this knave's shop, and in order to
pay him I pulled out a handful of money wherefrom to take a coin. The sight
of the gold moved his lust, and he seized my hand, pretending I had robbed
him. I kept it closed, however, and here it is now."
The oil-merchant deposed, "This rascal came to buy oil, and when I had
filled his bottle, 'Gaffer', said he to me, 'can you change me a gold-piece?' I,
not suspecting him, drew open my drawer, from which he clutched out a hand-
ful, and would have fled, but I detained him. The money is mine. I ask
"Leave the money here," said the Kadi, "and come back to-morrow."
The second case was a disagreement between a laborer and a schoolmaster,
touching a woman. The schoolmaster affirmed that the rustic had run away
with his wife. To meet this the laborer declared that the lady was his own
especial property, married to him, in fact, for many a year. As to the woman,
the subject of the dispute, she was mute-would answer not a word. The Kadi
was in a difficult position between the two affirmatives. However, he com-
manded, "Leave the woman here, and come back to-morrow."
And now it came to the turn of Ben Achma and the cunning old pilgrim.
"My lord Kadi," said the sheik, "I was on my way to your city to buy merchan-
dise, when this miscreant came up and made an appeal to my charity. He
craved permission to sit behind me on my horse, being weary with travel. In a
moment of weakness I assented, and now he wants to keep the horse-on the
ground that your lordship will assign the beast to that man whose weakness
stands most in need."
The Kadi ran his fingers through his beard and scratched his head-tokens
of great perplexity of mind. Nevertheless he ordered, "Leave the horse, and
come back to-morrow.
Early on the morrow these several ligitants came up to know the magis-
trate's decision. First the oil-merchant and the butcher made their obeisance.
"You affirm," said the Kadi to the former, "that this butcher stole from
your till the handful of money left in charge of the court. And yet when I
placed these coins-which, as you say you have fingered and handled-in a cup
of water, I found no spot of oil arising therefrom to the surface, although your
hands are saturated with grease. I therefore adjudge the money to the butcher,
and thirty stripes to the oil-merchant."
The disputed iife now came forward, and both schoolmaster and laborer
made their obeisance to the court.
"Seeing," said the Kadi, "that these two men lay the claim to one woman,
and that neither of them can justify their claims, while the woman herself is
mute on the matter, I this morning directed her to clean out and arrange my
inkhorn. She did so-adjusting the sponge, filling it with ink, and sorting the
pens with an aptitude and dexterity of which, I am persuaded, no wife of a
mere rustic would be capable. I adjudge her, therefore, to the schoolmaster,
the laborer to receive thirty stripes."
Now came the turn of Ben Achma and the old pilgrim.
"Make these men follow me to the stables," said the Kadi: "I wish them to
see my horses."
They were taken in separately, Ben Achma first.
"Pick out the horse you claim," said his worship.
"I have him here," said the sheik, walking up to a stall.
"Good; now return and bid the other man enter."
'Do you recognize your property, my friend?" said the Kadi.
"My horse! yes, I should know him among a hundred," replied the old vil-
lain. "There he is."
The magistrate returned, took his place on the divan, and forthwith ad-
judged the horse to Ben Achma, while the old man was condemned to suffer
"May it please your lordship," said the sheik, making a profound obeisance,
after the session was over, "to explain to your servant wherefore, seeing that
both of us recognized the beast, you have decided the case in your servant's
"Your adversary did of a truth recognize the horse," replied the magis-
trate, "but the horse did not recognize him; whereas I noticed that on your ap-
proach even your walk was known."
Ben Achma bent down,, kissed the just Kadi's robe, and started back to
his village a humbler and a wiser man.
IDING away in their leaves of green,
Little red balls I to-day have seen,
Where did I find them-the fairy show-
Little Red Riding Hoods, all in a row?
Not where bright roses had fallen away;
Not where the Solomon's seal loves to stray;
Not in the woods where the twin-berries glow;
Not where the "wintergreens" make a bright show;
But down in the bed where a sweet perfume
Filled my lily bells once, in their snowy bloom
There to-day my balls of coral swung
From the self-same stems where the lilies swung.
And I heard the green leaves, whispering, say,
"Don't take all the treasures and .spring away,
But leave for autumn, if ever so few,
Some pretty red balls where the lilies grew."
An Indian IMoving.
ARRY'S papa is an officer in the army, so Harry lives in a fort
South on the plains. He sees a great many queer sights.
One day he saw some Indians moving. Indians live in
wigwams, and do not have any furniture. They do not move
from one wigwam to another. They move wigwam and all
from place to place. They do not have any wagons, so they
have to carry their things on the backs of horses.
The Indians rode on horses, with the pappooses on their backs
and the half-grown children sitting before or behind them. The
skins and blankets belonging to the wigwams were tied up, and the bundles
were fastened to the backs of pack-horses. The lodge-poles were tied to the
sides of the horses, so that one end of them dragged on the ground.
The Indians stopped a few hours not a great distance from the fort, so
Hal went out with the soldiers to see them. They were friendly Indians; that
is, they were friendly just then. Perhaps the next time they would see them
the Indians would be ready to fight about something. Hal thought at first
that it would be great fun to live like the Indians, but he soon changed his
mind. When he saw still more of them he was very certain he would not like
it. He was sure he would not like to sleep among such dirty skins and blank.
ets, or to eat such food as they did.
The moving party Hal went to see were cooking their dinner. They had
built fires on the ground. They cooked their meat on sticks over the fire, and
stewed a good many queer things in large earthen pots.
One of the officers told Hal that the Indians were very fond of stewed
puppies. Hal did not know whether to believe that or not. The Indians all
helped themselves out of the same dish. They seemed to think it quite right
to dip their fingers in and fish out the piece they liked best.
Some of the little Indians were almost pretty. There was one came up
to Hal and looked him over. He was interested in his clothes. After a while
he went away and brought two large feathers for Hal to put in his hat. Hal
stuck them in and laughed. The little Indian laughed, too; but they could
not talk to each other, for neither could understand what the other said. The
Indians stayed near the fort-until after dinner, then they moved off toward
their new home.
fLaithful DN1it o oon."
SLD DON" is dead! that good
f old horse!
S"We'll see his like no more!"
No more will mistress ride be-
l m hind
While master rides before.
Old Don was once a frisky colt
And, twenty years ago,
'Twixt farm and village carried oft
His master to and fro.
With sprightly gait and lofty head
He pranced upon his way,
And showed impatience of restraint
By many a rousing neigh.
With mane and tail outfloating far
Upon the morning breeze,
Attached to sleigh or buggy, then,
He jogged along with ease.
But, as old age came creeping on,
His pace became more slow;
And he responded readily
STo the command of "Whoal"
With downcast look and drooping tail
He slowly hobbled orif
But faithful ever, to the last,
They say was poor old Don.
Perhaps if we could understand
The language of an eye
Some message kind old Don had left
When he lay down to die.
But though "horse sense" has often oroved
Of worth in time of need,
And horses have played noble parts
In many a daring deed,
Their language is not understood,
And since the world began
Full many tales they might have told
Have thus been lost to man.
SABEL DAYTON was the daughter of a clergyman who lived in New
York. She had received a fine education and longed to be of some
use in the world. The day she was twenty years old she said to her
father: "I am tired of living so useless a life as mine has been and must find
some work to do,"
"It is not right to be idle, daughter, when there is work on every hand,"
said her father. "What do you wish to do?"
"With your consent, father," said Isabel, "I will answer the call for teachers'
among the Indians and do what I can for those poor people the next two years."
Mr. Dayton gave a re-
luctant consent and in
two weeks from that
day Isabel was in-
stalled as teacher in an
Indian school in the
,as a rude structure,
but her pupils were a
surprise to Isabel.
Grown men gathered
with youth and chil-
dren, and all showed a
strong desire to learn. It was hard for some of them to overcome their habits of
shiftlessness and laziness, but the teacher was patient and sought by every means
to aid and instruct them, not only in books but in work as well. The girls were
taught to sweep, sew, wash, and above all to be cleanly and neat in their homes.
One of her favorite pupils was brown John, an Indian boy of eighteen, who
showed fondness for books and was of great aid to his teacher. During the
hours of study he often stood by her side and helped her to translate the lesson
into the Indian tongue. Some of their efforts were very amusing. One day she
asked each one to write a letter to her, and one bright-eyed boy wrote with
I- -- -' .ej
many a flourish, "der Teec Her me like you and me like Skool, but me love pla
After school was over for the day Isabel would gather several of the
squaws and go with them beneath a large tree near the school and read to
them, and teach them to sew. The squaws would take their babies, strapped
to a board, with them and hang them in the branches while they listened to
Isabel's teachings. While they could do most beautiful bead-work they could
not mend the simplest garment.
She taught them to cook and to make the most of the supplies given them
by the government. Some of the bread they first made would not be relished
by our readers, but it was far better than many of the Indian dishes of which
they were fond.
She helped them in their fancy work so that the traders soon learned
that the moccasins and leggins bought from the Indians under her charge were
better made and brought better prices than those obtained from other sources.
There was much that was unpleasant in her life, but the thought that
she was doing good to others was a comfort to her. Her pupils, young and
old, respected her and tried to show their esteem in many ways, so that when
her two years were up she did not leave them without deep regret.
Little 0olks in Rollcand.
OLLAND is a very strange country. Most of the land is below the
level of the sea. The people have built dikes on the sea-sh-ore and.
on the banks of the rivers to keep the water out. These dikes are
high banks of
earth. In some
places they are 'II :,
built of stone.
The)'y plant trees i I",
on the dykes of
earth, and the I', .,"
roots' keep the 5.- .1.
water from rn
washing them em P !l .
awa y. ,
0 n nmany ","
of the dy kes i
there are long ,.
lines of wind- ''.
mills. The)' are
used for pump-
ing out the water
from the inside
of the dykes.
There 'are a
canals in Hol- ; 0:'
land. In some
of the cities
canals are used __. .
asstreets. Boats -
go all over the
whole lives on
water. Our little
ones there are often born, brought up and spend their days in boats.
The whole family of the boatman eat and sleep in the little cabin. The
children play about the deck. The Dutch women are very neat, and they keep
the cabin as nice as a parlor. The space is small on the boat, but the home is
just as it would be on the land. The growing plants and pussy eating her
milk seem to be odd sights on a boat.
Some of the vessels go out to sea. The family goes with them. The
fisherman often has his wife and children on board. The mother
of the little ones has to work like a man. She helps catch the fish and
land them. Sometimes mamma has to steer the boat. Sometimes she and
the boys have to drag the boat with a rope while papa steers. In Holland dogs
have to work for their living. They are harnessed to small carts or wagons.
They draw the milk, butter and cheese, fruit and vegetables to market. The
farmer's wife usually goes with them and sells the load in the city. I have
seen carts and wagons drawn by from one to four dogs. Sometimes half a
dozen of the little ones take a ride for pleasure.
The children in Holland, as in America and England, are very fond of
flying kites. The country is flat and the winds are steady. The boys and girls
of the poorer classes wear wooden shoes. They are heavy and clumsy and
make a clumping noise when the wearer walks on the foor or pavement. Little
girls wear caps like grandmothers.
(hased by (wVages.
AWRENCE NORTON was a young man of twenty-two. He
had finished his education, and was desirous of seeing "some-
thing of the world," as he expressed it. His uncle, who was a
large ranchman in Montana, had frequently written Lawrence,
urging that he visit the west and make his home there. Law-
rence was anxious to go, and in a few short weeks found himself
safe in his uncle's home.
The house in which his uncle lived was not such as Lawrence
had been used to. Neither
was life on the plains as
luxurious as in the eastern
cities, yet Lawrence en-
joyed it all. It was a --
change to him, and the d
wild and free life which he
led there was so pleasant
that he thought he should
like always to remain.
On his uncle's ranch
were many hundreds of
horses and of cattle. Only
a few days after his ar-
rival his uncle presented
him with a fine horse and
saddle and told him to
make the most of it. Day
after day Lawrence went
out to help herd the cat-
tle. On one occasion, he
thought he would ride to
the hills- some distance A RAOn FOR LTAIF.
away and explore them. His horse was fresh, and he galloped rapidly forward.
The air was bracing and Lawrence felt every nerve thrill with life and vigor
Reaching the hills he dismounted, and, taking out his horse, he started out on
foot in search of whatever adventure might befall him.
Like every other herdsman, he carried his trusty rifle with him. As he
reached the summit of a little hill he saw a band of Indians encamped in the
vale below him. Lawrence thought it would be great fun to send a rifle ball
over their heads and terrify them. He did not think of the danger there would
be in such a course for himself, so, raising his rifle to his shoulder, he fired in
the direction of the encampment. No sooner was the gun discharged than
the Indians sprang to their feet in great commotion. They ran hither and
thither, gathered their arms together, and hastily mounted their ponies. Then
Lawrence realized what he had done. His own horse was some distance away,
and the Indians were coming in the direction from which the gun had been
fired. -Lawrence ran rapidly to the spot where he had left his horse, and
reached him none too soon. As he was mounting, the Indians appeared on the
summit of the hill, and seeing him, at once gave chase. Then began a race
for life. Lawrence knew that if he fell into the hands of the Indians there was
little hope for him. He had had no time to reload his gun, and so was unable
to defend himself. He urged his gallant steed to the utmost, and started off
across the plains, hoping that he might escape them. But the ponies of the
Indians were fresh, and although Lawrence had some rods the start, yet he felt
that there was but little hope of escape. Knowing that his gun was of no use
to him, and that it added so much weight to his horse, he threw it away.
Then he threw away his coat and hat, and sped onward.
For miles and miles they raced. At one time the Indians were close upon
him, but his horse seemed to know that life depended on his efforts, and that
another mile would bring him within reach of assistance. So springing for-
ward with renewed vigor, he soon placed a safe distance between him and his
pursuers. Lawrence reached his companions badly frightened, and it was with
difficulty that he could tell them of his escape. Although they rejoiced that
Lawrence had gotten off unharmed, yet none of them felt like blaming the
Indians for chasing a man who, without any cause whatever, had fired upon