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A; ~41 IIn, A-W Nr NI;1 K~csL/~~$ .C~~~ ~aL~~M~~ Y/~yt? _I kZ~cj /B -. t 17 IIo Yiii eel!1~Ir~ 1 7-4 IV I- I la I, IN THE BULL-CIRCUS. MADRID. ALL THE WORLD OVER INTERESTING STORIES OF TRAVEL, THRILLING ADVENTURE AND HOME LIFE BY ELLA FARMAN, MRS. LUCIA CHASE BELL, FRANK H. CONVERSE, LOUISE STOCKTON, AND OTHER POPULAR AUTHORS FULL Y ILLUSTRATED BOSTON D. LOTHROP COMPANY 1893. COPYRIGHT, 1892, BY D. LOTHROP COMPANY. All r igis reserved. ALL THE WORLD OVER ERHAPS one of the most vivid impressions which the tourist receives upon his entrance into any Spanish city whatsoever, is of its muscular S beggars-men of enormous.size, with their ruffianly swaggering strength exaggerated by the national cloak. This garment is of heavy, tufted '- woollens, long and fringed, almost indestructable, and is frequently worn to muffle half the face; and the broad slouch hat, usually with a couple of rough feathers stuck in its band, does not tend to soften the general brigandish effect. These beggars are licensed by the government, which must reap a goodly revenue from the disgraceful crowd, as they are numerous, and therefore they pursue their avocation in the most open manner. They will frequently follow the traveller a half-mile, especially should they find him to be ignorant of that magic formula of dismissal which is known to all Spaniards: Pardon,-for God's sake, Brother! This-appeal is constantly on the lip of every Spanish lady. She utters it swiftly, without so much as a glance, a dozen times of a morning on her way to church, as a dozen gaunt, dirty hands are thrust in her face as she passes ; and hearing it, the most persistent fellow of them all is at once silenced, and falls back. Coming in from their kennel-homes among the ruins and the holes in the hills outside, it is the custom to make an early morning tour of the city before they take up their stations for the day at the various church and hotel doors. Each seems to be provided with "green pudding," in his garlic pot, and he eats as he goes along, and prays as he eats, stopping in front of the great oval patio or court gates of iron lattice, which guard the mansions of the rich. At these patio doors he makes a prodigious racket, shaking the iron rods furi- ously, and all the while muttering his prayers, until some one of the family appears at a gallery window. Then instantly the mutter becomes a whine, a piti- ful tale is wailed forth, and alms are dolefully implored "for the love of God." But although such mottoes as "Poverty is no Crime" are very often painted on the walls of their fine houses, the probability is that the unmoved Sefiorita will murmur a swift Pardon, for God's sake, Brother! and retire, to soon appear again to silence another of the fraternity with the same potent formula. However, each of the countless horde is sure to gather in centimes sufficient for the day's cigarettes and garlic, and, in the long run, to support life to a good old age. HE Spaniards are a nation of dancers and singers. Every Spanish Nrp child seems born with the steps, gestures, snappings and clappings of the national fandango dance, at the ends of his fingers and toes. A guitar is the universal possession, and every owner is a fine S player. The solitary horseman, the traveller by rail, takes along his guitar; and in car, or at cross-roads, he is sure of dancers at the first thrilling twang. There is always a merry youth and maiden aboard ready to make acquaintance in a dance, and anywhere the whole household will troop from the cottage, the plowman will leave his team in the furrow, and the laborer drop his hoe, for a half-hour's joyous "footing o't." One of the interesting sights of Toledo is the great city fountain on Street St. Isabel, near the cathedral. It is a good place to study donkeys and their drivers, and the lower classes of the populace. The water, deliciously sweet and cool, is brought from the mountains by the old Moorish-built water-ways, and flows by faucet. There is no public system of delivery, consequently a good business falls into the hands of private water-carriers. These supply families at a franc a month. The poorer households go to and fro with their own water- jars as need calls, carrying them on their heads. They often wear a cushioned ring, fitting the head, to render the carrying of the jar an easier matter. A picturesque article of dress among Spanish men, is the national sash, a broad woollen some four yards in length, of gay colorings. This is wound three or four times around the waist, its fringed end tucked in to hang floating, and the inevitable broad knife thrust within its folds, which also hold the daily supply of tobacco. A common sight is the sudden stop on the street, a lighting of a fresh cigarette, a loosening of the loosened sash, a twitch of the short breeches, and then a tight, snug wind-up, when the lounger moves on again. Another amusing sight is the picturesque beggar who seems at first glance to be hanging in effigy against the cathedral walls, so motionless will some of these fellows stand, hat slouched over the face, the brass government "license" labelling the breast, a hand extended, and, in many cases, a crest worn prom inently on the ragged garments, to show that the wearer is a proud descend- ant of some old grandee family. To address this crested beggar by any other title than Caballero (gentleman) is a deadly insult. .. .1;I b e ,' "- ] L. r .t.' I ..-,1 pdCiI j~ut \I, ".* d*-" 9:''V I-- 'i'. -' 6 .' ' **^ <.1'; >t r-' 1 4 7''. '? "' -^ *.7t-'. 4 - ,' -:' ' *i' .7 7' 7' < .*' (:*. '* ''... S, '" i '-.7 /* .' ." ]"- ./ ",.": !"" *,,).",,, /i ,"- "'-."-' ". /- , ..- iV .>.,,,'1. ,,,i, i' -,, ~) ._. ;,* I * I-;t\ ^'.*i. *^. '" 'II I~F7 *^ l !. ; ^ -" ... I'-, '[ ":'. "- .' ~ - .. "1I ; ,' G l .I 'c 'PiIi l l" / L; 1 ? I ,I 'II' 'I I ,-^--- .- '?- - 7.. .. "< t,:,' .[.';...i .. -4 ;I !r: --p 737' "- ." -- .'- -- -' ,__ ------ -//^-- _-_ _- : :- '" .-= ." r\'w .J .. : v. '- .. rv-- - S" -=- -- ---- -- ,-" -, --- ; 'k 4 1 1 . -" _- ..-.._. .b<., : I ,"- -- -- .' .-' r .. -q N.-- - xt 74. -4.-- *_--. ; 1-*~ 4 rTej~ .- -- - _ T_ _ I- 37r S.-.--~ - -:' -. *-r t S MONG the many small sights of the Plaza about Christmas time, are the sellers of zambombas, or Devil's Fiddles. This toy, which the Stranger sometime takes for a receptacle of sweet drinks to be im- > bibed through a hollow cane, is a favorite plaything with Spanish children. A skin is stretched over a bottomless jar; into this is fastened a stout length of sugar-cane, and lo! a zambomba. Its urchin-owner spits on his palms, rubs them smartly up and down the ridgy cane, when the skin-drum reverberates delightfully. The fruit markets are of a primitive sort. The peasant fills his donkey-panniers with grapes, garlic, melons straw-cased and straw-handled, whatever he has ripe, and starts for town. Reaching the Plaza, in the shade of the cathedral, he spreads his cloak, rolling a rim. On this huge woollen plate he arranges his fruit, weighing it out as customers demand. From the old Moorish casements, the traveller looks down on the most rudi- mentary sort of life. He sees no labor-saving machinery. Instead of huge vans. loaded with compact hay bales, he beholds the donkey hay-train. The farmer binds a mountain of loose hay on each of his donkeys, lashes them together, and with a neighbor to help beat the train along, starts for market. These trains may be seen any day crooking about among the steep mountain-ways. The student of folk-life notes the shoemakers on the Plaza at work in the open air. Formerly the sandal was universally worn, with its sole of knotted hemp, and its canvas brought up over the toe, at which point was fastened a pair of ribbons about four feet long, and these ribbons each province had its own fashion of lacing and tying. But now the conventional footgear of Paris is common, and one buys boots of the fine glossy Cordovan leather for a trifle. The proprietors of the neighboring vineyards visit the wine shops weekly to bring full wine-skins, and take such as are emptied. These skins, often with their wool unsheared, are cured by remaining several weeks filled with wine-oil, and all seams are coated with pitch to prevent leakage. The wholesale skins hold about eight gallons, being usually those of well-grown animals. They are stoutly sewn, tied at each knee, and also at the neck, whence the wine is decanted into smaller skins by means of a tunnel. L -' La' 7~v*- ,r' I', 7 2--I *'GI-~ J- 1 G J14 q- . .FTP3SF L t-I-i (K PE -; A 'k M F', .IsI CA L -r r Mi 1 IMI I 'ettA 'lrrI _____I I ~-, I_! I I I'11,r L. thl.A..i~I Ku -Fvr' 1- *..c Ly 4? IL. J .' Ih iP,' I .A siaw:lN # HE beggars of Spain are a most devout class. Piety is, with them, the form under which they conduct business; a shield, and a certificate of S character. They walk the streets under the protection of the patron 1 saint of the principal church in town, and they formally demand alms S of you -in the name of that saint. It is Religion that solicits you - the beggar's own personality is not at all involved; and it is thus that the proud Spanish self-respect is saved from hurt. The tourist who has not tarried in French towns, is, at first, astonished to behold women passing to and fro upon the streets with no head covering what- ever. Hats and bonnets are rarely seen upon Spanish women of the lower and middle classes. Those who are street-venders sit bareheaded all day long in their chairs on the Plaza, wholly indifferent to the great heat and blinding dazzle of the Spanish sun. About Christmas, dozens of "stands" spring up along the Plaza. It is at that season that the gypsy girls come in with their roasters and their bags of big foreign chestnuts ; and they do a thriving business, for every good Spanish child expects roast chestnuts and salt at Christmas. Many of the mountain families about Toledo' keep small flocks of sheep-- flocks that, instead of dotting a green landscape with peaceful white, as in America and Northern Europe, only darken the reddish-brown soil of Spain with a restless shading of a redder and a deeper hue. These brown sheep are herded daily down on the fenceless wastes. The shepherd-boys are usually attended by shepherd-dogs so enormous in size that the traveller often mistakes them for donkeys. They are sagacious, and do most of the herding, their masters devoting themselves to the guitar, the siesta, the cigarette, and the garlic pudding. Toledo, more than any other Spanish city, abounds with interesting bits and noble examples of the old Moorish architecture, for the reason that it has not been rebuilt at all, and that few of its ruins have been restored, or even retouched. Color alone has changed. The city now is of the soft hue of a withered pomegranate. Turn where you will, your eye is delighted by an ornate facade, a carved gateway with its small reticent entrance door, a window with balcony and cross-bars, and everywhere there is the horseshoe arch with its beau- tiful curve. The old Alcazar is standing, though occupied as a Spanish arsenal, and on the height opposite is the ruin of a fine Moorish castle. .' '' 1, ~ 7 II I' bLi3- L j~It - -,*-, s .~ C- p.r t- .- -:h*r- : 1P. ;j ~ f. i~h11iL t NE of the best "small businesses" in a Spanish city, is that of the ) domestic water-supply. Those dealers who have no donkeys, convey it to their customers in long wheelbarrows constructed with a frame to receive and hold several jars securely. Stone jars, with wood stopples S attached with a cord, are used, the carrying-jars, being emptied into larger jars in the water-cellars. The peasants have a poetic appellation for the soft, constant drip of the water from the old aqueducts: The sig/ of the Moor. With the Spaniard, as with the American, the turkey is a special Christmas luxury. But the tempting rows of dressed fowls common to our markets and groceries, are never to be seen. As the holiday season draws very close at hand, the mountain men come down into the city, driving before them their cackling, gobbling, lustrous-feathered flocks, bestowing upon them, of course, the usual daily allowance of blows which is meted out to the patient family donkey. These poultry dealers congregate upon the Plaza, where they smoke, and chaff, and dicker, keep- ing their droves in place with the whip; and the buyer shares in the capture of his flying, screaming, flapping purchase, in company with all the children on the street, for the turkey market is usually great fun for the Spanish youngster. In the cold season, one of the morning sights of a Spanish town is the prepara- tion of the big charcoal braziers outside the gates of the fine dwelling-houses. The coals are laid and lighted, and then the servant blows them with a large grass fan until the ashes are white, when he may consider that all deadly fumes are dissipated, and that it is safe to carry it within to the room it is to warm. Nearly all the peasants in the near vicinity of cities are market gardeners on a small scale. They cultivate small plots, and whenever any crop is ripe, they load their donkey-panniers and go into the cities, where they sell from house to house. These vegetable-panniers have enormous pockets, and are woven of coarse, dyed grasses, in stripes and patterns of gaudy blue and red. When filled, they often cover and broaden the donkey's back to such an extent that the lazy owner, determined to ride, must sit on the very last section of back- bone. Some of the streets in Toledo are so narrow that the brick or stone walls of the buildings have been hewn and hollowed out at donkey-height, to allow the loaded panniers to pass. The buyers make their bargains from the windows, a sample vegetable being handed up for inspection. r i..... -.4 - *'?.- I I . II I) II -' -i -I I I'1 4 I , .9 111.1 ~ *" 4-N 421-~ * .1 ..:5;-/--. I. L --~~ ~I .. ---I 1 i . -~ I3J! **- _I C ~ ,'..,,I --c=(r I -'. ..* '-.--- I .1-,r,1- F IF 'H.~1~ i~. -; -' 4ii _; I i' .4-*?p4~~ ~1' .4 ,I - !f' Ii i 4.- / 4- 4 .- .' " 2. f: I .I K1 -; -4 r ,:2~ '' Ar J*iI/ 'jL *BL ,L,-. ~' : "'-5 ~q 4 1 iP -4 _) Wv im i .. .. .. .. _ _~ y' I iI liiiL 11 .I ~~ ~ II 'II IIj I'; -. i '' I 3I~' ** *'' ' Ii , __ <-Tie _._ -_ -- II 1- -A------ -I -' II' ''I i 11s *' '' '' II I i * .' '~'' I I I I -4'. i *.. *- -, J , I I-. ; '- -.- II ' i- -' '' * --' i. -.. , II; I i ' ''C--~ ~-- 'I '..7- i5* nIs *_- j4e ------------- ., I I ' J \.'XRAVELLERS should deny themselves Spain during December, January a nd February. The heating apparatus of the American and the English Si! house is unknown in Spanish dwellings- fireplace, stove, nor fur- nace. The peasant draws his cloak up to his nose and shivers and S. owners, while the middle-class family lights a single brazier, and the household, gathering in one room, hovers over the charcoal smouldering away in its brass cage, and the cats sit and purr on the broad wooden rim. These braziers are expensive -constructed of brass and copper- and few families afford more than one, making winter comfort out of the question, as the floors, of marble or stone, never get well warmed. With the coming of pleasant weather Spanish families usually forsake the blinded, draperied, balconied rooms of the gallery for the secluded and garden- like patio. This court is often fifty feet square, and in its enclosure there is generally a fountain; the floor is tiled with marble, there are stately tropic plants in tubs, and orange and palm-trees are growing. Should the sunshine become too fierce there are smoothly-running screens and awnings to roof the whole court in an instant. Some of the old Moorish patios contain quaint wells, dry at some seasons, but often affording water sufficient for housekeeping needs. The water-jars come from the famous potteries of Seville, and, made of a rude red clay, are similar in hue to our plant pots. They are brought in high loads by oxen-and these pottery carts are often an enlivening feature of the dull country roads. The water cellar is not a cellar at all, but a stone-paved room off the patio, delightfully cool and sloppy of a fiery July day, with the water-carriers unload- ing, and filling the array of dripping red jars with the day's supply from the public fountain. Every Spanish peasant wears a knife in his sash. These knives are usually about eighteen inches long, with a broad, sharp, murderous blade. The handles are of tortoise or ivory, often carved richly, or inlaid with figures of the Virgin, the Saviour, or the crucifix. The knife is kept open by a curious little wheel, between blade and handle, and is used indiscriminately, to slice a melon or lay bare a quarrelsome neighbor's heart. .. EVILLE is celebrated for its oranges and its pottery. Nearly the whole Spanish supply of water-jars comes from this city; and the ,. outlying country is agreeably dotted with orange orchards, as olive U-.'.,, .. oases enliven the vicinity of Cordova. The export of the fruit is '''"' a considerable business. The most delicious orange in the world may be bought in the streets of Seville for a cent, and the ordinary rate for the ordinary fruit is four for a cent. In the Christmas season large and selected oranges are sold in the outdoor booths. They are carefully brought, and temptingly hung in nets, along with melons cased in straw, fine bunches of garlic, chestnuts, assorted lengths of sugar-cane, tambourines, zambombas, and such other sweet and noisy objects as delight the Spanish youngster. The decorative plant of Spain is the aloe truly decorative, with its base of long, dark, clear-cut, sword-like leaves, its tall slender trunk often rising twenty feet high, and its broad candelabras of crimson blooms. A picturesque industry of Seville is the spinning of the green rope so much used by Spanish farmers. It is manufactured from the coarse pampas grass of the plains, and the operation is a very leisurely and social one, requiring three persons: one to feed the wheel, one to turn it, and a third to receive the twisted rope. Plowing, in Spain, is still a very rude performance. The primitive plow of the Garden of Eden era is yet in use--a sharp crotch of a tree, crudely shod, however, with iron. An indispensable article of peasants' costume for both men and women, should an absence of even two hours be contemplated, is the alforja, or peasant's bag. This, in idea, is similar to the donkey-pannier--a long, stout, woollen strip thickly tufted with bunches of red and blue wool, with a bag at either end, and is worn slung over the shoulder. The pockets of the alforja invariably con- tain, one a pot of garlic, or green pudding, the other a wine skin. The mouths of some wine-skins are fitted with a bottomless wooden saucer, and are lifted to the lips for drinking ; but the preferable and national style is to catch the stream with the skin held aloft and away at arm's-length. -/, I ,. , -1 I ,. -' ( .,- . f. i' *I y , .1 *, ,.r. - '4 I -- : - I . 1: I ,- ' --I - 'If I' V. - ,iI 1, = 1- '1 ; L ' -'_ . 'i ; J i ' r~, : 11 r,, ; I " I I I. I) l I'- i~<.l 7I 1'- * f ! CNC r~ (& i - NC, I': .'r- ' k, r.- I* *' -* ~ ., I V:. ) /i A' A/' n TA."" '~ 2. A I *C I -LoucuWC-.- A 4'* .4 - 2: -f~~ -- A I . <-I- 'C- ; I ~ A _ ~ -a I' ' ,, ; P CENTRAL point of interest for visitors to Seville is the Cathedral. Its tower, known as the Giralda, is one of the most celebrated examples. of sacred Moorish architecture. It was erected in an early S century, and was considered very ancient when the Spaniards, in the reign of Ferdinand and Isabella, built upon it the fine Cathedral. In the interior, the Tribuna de la Puorta Mayor is much visited for its lofty and beautiful sunlight effects, and there are several precious Murillos. The ascent of the Giralda is usually made by tourists -an agreeable variety in European climbing, as there are no stairs, the whole progress being by an easy series of inclined planes of brick masonry. Queen Isabella, not long ago, made the entire ascent and return upon horseback. From the summit, one views the whole of Seville, with its dark-green rim of orange gardens, set in the great flat barrens that stretch out towards Cadiz. A comic sight usual at the foot of the tower, significant as a sign of the complete contempt in which the Catholic Spaniard holds all things Moslem and Moorish, is that of a goat belonging to one of the custodians, tethered from morning till night to a fine old Muezzin bell. Another noted building is the Tower of Gold, on the banks of the Guadal- quiver, opposite the Gypsy quarter. Tourists visit it to get the fine architectural effect of the Cathedral, also for its view of the Bull Ring. It stands on the site of the old Inquisition, where hosts of Moorish captives were tortured. The Alcazar, always visited, is an ancient Moorish palace, and is considered, in point of elegance, second to only the Alhambra. It is now set aside by the government as the residence of the Queen-mother Isabella. San Telmo is also much visited. It is the palace of the Due de Montpensier, known throughout Spain as "the orange man." He owns numerous orange orchards, and lavishes much time and money on his plantations and hothouses. Another point of curiosity is known as the House of Pilate. It is said to be an exact reproduction of the celebrated House of Pilate in Jerusalem. It is remarkable for some exquisite tiles, and it bears many interesting inscriptions. Seville presents an odd aspect to the stranger between the hours of three and six i. M. During this hot interval the streets and shops are deserted, everybody, even to the beggars, being under cover and asleep. c.. III it';I~ I' I 1,1 I I I 1. I i I I r !'';s , ii'lI ~ i!_D I' ,, - /11. .Ill i'i~ - K.' r ,--- ii bI II tv - r , I till II II I I 'II~ I- K i III I.' I I - 'C----. / - K. /> *-~, ~c-~ 'L,r~~:.r ./l~i.u;c~l~t~.'_____ OST of the peasant girls in the vicinity of Spanish cities con- trive to keep a bit of flower-garden for their own personal purposes. She is a thriftless lass indeed, who has not at least one fragrant double red rose in tending, or some other red- flowered shrub. From Christmas on through the spring fete-days of the Church, they reap their tiny harvests. During this season every Spanish man and woman who can, wears a red flower in button-hole or over the ear, and the streets are thronged with bareheaded, black-tressed peasant and gypsy flower-venders. Flowers are a part of the daily marketing, and two or three centimos a centimo is one fifth of a cent--suffice to buy a fresh nosegay. New Year's is a marked fete in Seville, as then "The Old Queen" in the Alcazar rides out in state, the Alameda is thronged with carriages, and the whole populace is a-blossom with red. A custom noticed by the tourist who lingers about cathedral doors, is one most observed, perhaps, by the poorer and more superstitious classes. Men and women dip the fingers, on entrance and departure, in holy water, and wet some one of the countless crosses which are set in the wall just above the cash- boxes--the cash-box in Spain being the inevitable accompaniment of the cross. As in other Spanish cities, the noble Profession of Beggary considers itself under the protection of the Church, and the entrance to the cathedral is down a long vista of outstretched hands, the fortunate one at the far end, who holds aside the matting portiere for you to enter, feeling sure of a fee, however the others fare. The whole vicinity abounds with loathsome spectacles of disease and distress, those entirely helpless managing to be conveyed daily into holy precincts. It is often amusing to witness an adult beggar "giving points" to some young amateur in the art, the dignity of the national calling evidently being insisted upon. An agreeable sight in this city of churches and beggars, is the afternoon stroll of companies of young priests and students from the convents. They are very noticeable, as part of the panorama, with their broad, silky shovel hats and black flowing gowns. Some are scholastic and intent upon their studies even in the streets, while others evidently take a most young man-of-the-world enjoy- ment in their cigarettes and the street-sights. R 'I- .1 5r ,:.. r 3~ TLT'41 -' I -r I i --- 1 - a.. ~ ~ i '* '- -'I~, I I.t - -1 I I' III.r -. . -7i *. ~cr ' "'.4 l g:ft '. L; c ri '.' ~F~F~EBQ~E~C;F-. Ir~r~. ~--------- I ~-------------- -- -------------------~ 14 - ~u I EVENUES are collected in most primitive ways by the Span- ish City Fathers. As there are no important sources of public income, there are few transactions, however trifling, that do not pay -./> l tax and toll. Every man is suspected of smuggling and "false a- returns," and it is a small bunch of garlic that escapes. Burly officials, often in shirt-sleeves and with club, lounge at all the entrances to the town, to levy duty upon any chance donkey-pannier or cart bringing in fruit and vegetables for sale. Frequently there are scenes of confusion, sometimes of violence. The government is determined that not a turnip, not a carrot, not a cabbage shall escape the yield of -its due; and it is not to be denied that the poor farmer hopes fervently to smuggle in a wine-skin or two--a dozen of eggs, or some other article of price, among his cheaper commodities. As a rule, he fails; for, suspicious of over-much gesticulation and protestation, the official is quite likely to tumble out sacks, baskets, bundles and bales, and empty every one upon the ground, leaving the angry farmer to pick up and load again at his leisure. Andalusia is a brown region stretching gravely between Cadiz and Granada. The effect of this landscape, all in low tones, upon natives of the green lands of America and England, is most depressing. The soil itself is red, and the grass grows so sparsely that the color of the ground crops up, giving impres- sion of general sun-blight, broken here and there by the glimmering moonlight gray of an olive orchard, or the dark-green of an orange garden. The huts of the farmers are built of the red clay; the clothing of the population appears to be of the undyed wool of the brown sheep, while to add to the prevailing russet hue, the general occupation seems to be that of herding pigs on the plains -and the pigs are hideously brown also. It is said that they derive their color from feeding on the great brown bug, or beetle, which abounds in the soil. The traveller counts these feeding droves by the dozen, each with two lazy, smoking swineherds. Travelling by rail over the Andalusian levels, one passes a succession of petty stations, villages of half a dozen houses each, where the only visible business appears to be in the hands of women, in the shape of one or two open-air tables, with pitchers and glasses, and a cow or goat tethered near in order to supply travellers, as the trains stop, with drinks of fresh milk. S. ..4' /~ AT 7kI .S p4Tl Aiobm', .71-IL I-h~- * ---.-- II... I '--. i- I K- - ~"I ( ~-------~ ---=------~--- --- -- L --------- -~-~- ~---~-~-~T~ ~ry D ..L fiF -a-v" I" *,p i ANY of the public buildings of Spanish cities stand as they were captured from the Moors. Sometimes, as in Cadiz, the town has /J^"IL received a coat of whitewash; but more frequently the only Spanish additions and improvements are a few crosses-inlaid in the old cement, or a plas- ter Virgin niched, in rude contrast, beside some richly wrought Moorish door of horseshoe form. The town hall of Seville remains to-day as ten centuries ago. The Spanish towns lie, for the most part, in the valley. The Moors usually chose the site for their cities with a view to the natural defences of mountain and river. The hills of course, remain, but the rivers, once full rushing tides, are now dried into stagnant shallow waters, a natural result in a country long uncultivated. A favorite business with the young men among the mountain peasants is the- breeding of poultry; not alone of fat pullets for the Christmas markets that is a minor interest so far as enjoyment goes but of choice young game cocks. --cock-fighting being the staple, everyday national amusement, while the bull- fight is to be regarded as f6te and festival -"the taste of blood" is a wel- come ingredient in any Spanish pleasure. All poultry is taken to market alive; the Il:r -, hanging head downwards, are slung in a bunch at the saddle- bow, and the cocks are carried carefully in cages. Fowls are not a common article of food, as in France, but are, instead, a holiday luxury, and the costliest meat in the market. Looking idly abroad as he-crosses the Andalusian plains, the tourist on donkey- back notices the queer carts that take passengers from one station to another. These odd omnibuses are but rude carts, two-wheeled, and covered with coarse- mats of pampas grass, and they are drawn by two, three, four or five donkeys harnessed tandem. On the rough, movable seats, gentlemen in broadcloth, and common folk with laced canvas shoes and peasant-bags, huddle together, all eating from the garlic-pots as they are passed, and drinking from the same wine-skin; this good fellowship of travellers is one of the unwritten laws of Spain. Mean- time the sauntering boys of the roadside hop up on the cart behind with the identical vagrant joy experienced by the American urchin after a like achieve- ment. !U : I~:rV V Jr~ -. ,A ~ ---t. S . r rwY-r '-P.- (i 1rrf.l% ~m ..,.1 A I : ,t '''~ j ipU-4 t l;rt I' : r. (4 )f'' ~r i .I j .1'. I-.., *1_ I:r -. C ..1 - I' I L~-~Qp.. t4- H~ ___ *- -> .i~ _____-:~ oo - 4, -'I,, ::1 S OU never can be sure when a Spaniard will arrive. Due at noon, should he meet a guitar, he comes at nightfall; and as it is certain S that every second Spaniard, walking or riding, will have his guitar along, it is best not to look for the return of any messenger before evening. He may have chosen to alight from his donkey and dance an hour, or he may have elected to sit still and clap and snap a dance in pantomime-- either is exciting and deeply satisfactory- and a fulfilment of one of the obli- gations of daily life which no true Spaniard can be expected to neglect for any such simple considerations as promise given, command laid, or bargain made. A peculiarly gloomy look is lent to the Spanish landscape by the cypress, sometimes growing in groups, sometimes towering singly in solitude. This tree, funereal in its best aspect, has a dead, dry, white trunk, and the branches begin at a height of twenty, thirty, or forty feet, and then drape themselves in a cone-like monumental mass of purplish green. These gloomy evergreens are common, and the tourist feels, even if he does not note, the absence of the lively sunny greens of American and French landscapes, with the bowery shadows that every- where invite the wayfarer to stop and rest. The Bergh Societies would find ample range for work in Spain, for the beat- ing and prodding of the donkey is one of the national occupations. As a rule, poor Burro is overloaded. A whole family will frequently come down into the city on his back, and tired though he be with plodding and stumbling and hold- ing back, the officer at the gate is sure to give him a blow- and a bruise with his bludgeon of authority as he passes in; and the poor creature sometimes very justly lies down in the street and dies without warning, allowing his owners to climb homeward on foot. Now and then one comes unexpectedly on an example of ancient enterprise put to use. There are spots in the brown waste which are green and fertile, because the old irrigating wells have been cleaned out and set in motion-a pair of wheels studded with great cups operated by means of a pair of poles, and a pair of donkeys, and a pair of drivers. The land is cut in ditches, and often the farmer can be seen hoeing his garlic and his cabbages while he stands in water ankle-deep. r-r, TAK_ ATA, N1A j9 -- yI -~~ -' rr --- --~ --"_______________ .- -t ~I:II ; ~ -_-~r 'Ii " P /; -III r'.': I,5 1 i1- - - -- REATLY dreaded by the unmarried young Spanish woman is the Beggars' .i, Curse; and a goodly portion of the beggars' revenue is ensured by a" this superstitious national fear. The more vicious of the fraternity keep good watch upon the wealthy young sefioritas and their cavaliers when they go out for pleasure. They do not follow them, perhaps; instead they take up their stations around the doors of those restaurants -whence they never are driven where ladies and their escorts are wont to stop for chocolate, or coffee, or aguardente, on their return from calls or the theatre, or the Bull Ring. As the pair are departing, the burly beggar approaches, half barring the way perhaps, and asks for alms. It is usually bestowed; but he begs insolently for more; and if it be not forthcoming, a bony and rosaried arm is raised, "the evil eye" is fastened upon the doomed ones, and the Beggars' Curse-the Curse of the Unfortunate -which all Spaniards dread, is threatened; and if it be evening, it is quite probable that the group stand near some crucifix of the suffering Saviour, with the red light of the street lantern shining down upon its ghastli- ness, so that the feeling of pious dread is greatly heightened, and a frightened pres- sure on the cavalier's arm carries the doubled alms into the outstretched hand. The dress of Spanish people of fashion is singularly artistic and pleasing. Although Paris styles are now followed by the sefioritas, they still cling to the national black satin with its lustrous foldings and flouncings, to the effective ball fringes, and to the mantilla, draping face and shoulder with its heavy black or white laces, the national red rose set just above the ear. Nor is this too remarkable under the high broad lights of the Spanish sky, though it might seen theatrical in our cold, harsh, Northern atmosphere. The dress of the Spanish gentlemen is as picturesque. The hat is usually a curious, double-brimmed silky beaver, while the cloak is most artistic in color and in drapery. This cloak, lasting a life-time, is of fine broadcloth, lined with heavy blue or crimson velvet; and it is so disposed that the folding brings this gorgeous lining in a round collar about the neck, while another broad fold is turned over upon the whole long left side of the garment. The peasant's cloak, of the same cut, is lined with red flannel, but it is often worn as gracefully. Long trousers are becoming general, but in some districts the tight pantaloon, slashed at the knee, is still seen, with its gay garter embroidered with some fanciful motto. One just brought from Spain bears this legend: There is a girl in this town- with her love she kills me. I, - 1: 2 I'... I~ :~~~' I- -i = -r N ; _ * :A - /~~. 7 I\TT ~ ~fkS~ R;J iJQR T iO S OUTHERN Spain is so mountainous that herding naturally becomes the occupation of the peasantry, rather than tillage. Great flocks of goats browse and frolic among the rocky heights and along the steep ravines where it seems hardly possible for the tiny a L. hoofs to keep foothold; and the traveller often beholds far above him dozens of these bounding creatures, leaping down the cliffs to drink at the valley streams. They are generally followed, at the same fearless pace, by a short-frocked shepherdess as sure-footed as they. Her rough, hempen-soled shoe, however, yields her excellent support, being flexible and not slippery, like boot-leather. Along the narrow mountain highways, the traveller frequently comes upon little booths built in among the cliffy recesses, like quaint pantries hewn in the rock. Melons, and grapes, and garlic, and oranges in nets, hang against the wall, and the heavy red wine of the country is for sale by the glass, also goat's. milk. Farming processes go on at all times of year in Spain. Subsistence is a matter comparatively independent of care and calculation. Crops may be sown at any time. The whole year round the peasant lights no fire in his earthen, bowl-like hut of one room. He cooks outside his door, in gypsy fashion. His furniture consists of some rude wool mattresses, a table, and some stools with low backs. A few bowls, plates, and knives and forks suffice to set his table. A kettle and a garlic pot comprise his cooking utensils. Frequently he and his family are to be seen at meals, leaning their elbows on the table in company, and sipping like so many cats, from the huge platter of hot garlic soup, crumb- ling their slices of coarse black bread, as they need. In contrast with this crude bread of the common people, are the long, fine, sweet white loaves to be had at the Seville bakeries a bread so cake-like, so delicious, as to require no butter, even with Americans accustomed to the use of butter with every meal. The salted butter of American creameries, made to keep for months, is wholly unknown in Spain, Spanish butter being a soft mass, and always eaten unsalted. But with his strong garlic and his fine fragrant tobacco, the Spaniard hardly demands or appreciates the refinements of food, and his tobacco is of the best, coming from the Spanish plantations in Cuba, and is very cheap, as it enters the country free of duties. - 1l, -~ -a-- (. r - I a I~ * 7A /) / Al )j II 'iN * I' a * L- l I IfPI '.v A- - Ja- 'r*1 S t~. -- -I i:~ 1 " 1 -11 (L a Z ~ Z '' \ i OUSEWORK, among the sun-basking, siesta-loving Spaniards, seems to be not the formidable, systematic matter that it is made in America. Washing, as well as cookery, is of simplest form. "Blue Monday" does not follow Sunday in Spain. A necessary garment is washed when needed; superfluous ones are allowed to accumulate until it is worth while to give a day to the task. Then, among the peasants, "the washing." is carried to a mountain torrent, and the garments are rubbed and rinsed in the swift waters, while picnic fun makes the labor agreeable, as often several families wash in company. Among townspeople, the work is done in great stone tubs in the patio, or in the water-cellar. There the goods, repeatedly wetted, are laid upon a big stone table and beaten with flat wooden paddles. The snowy array of the American clothes- line is seldom seen. The washed garments are hung upon the table edges, and held fast by stones or other weights until dried. A frequent incident in mountain travel is the sight of some stout lazy peasant away up the heights, holding fast by his donkey's tail to help himself along as the poor creature scrambles up the zigzag steeps. At the base and along the face of these rocks cacti grow abundantly, often presenting a beautiful cliff-side of cacti fifty feet high. Another sight, not so agreeable, along many a Spanish roadside, is that of the ancient wooden crosses, erected on the sites where travellers have been mur- dered by banditti. These roads are often desolate and dreary beyond description, unfenced, seldom travelled, and set with the constantly recurring stones of the Moorish road-makers. Leading across brown, treeless wastes, with habitations far apart, both peasant and tourist would easily wander from these roads, were it not for those rude mile-stones, which are often the only guide-posts and land-marks. When a fence is required, a hedge of aloe is usually started. Spanish children chew sugar-cane as American children munch candy. The cane is brought from Cuba and is sold everywhere; carried about by venders in big bundles of handy lengths, to capture all stray centimos. Not so well patronized is the street dealer in soap old Castile soap for this business is recognized to be a form of beggary, and though bargains are made and money paid, the soap is seldom carried away by the purchaser. i '4 4 I i 44' I Ii i'4, 4. 4 -'l / i -b I /4-7' .4 I. p i '' : 44 r i * j ;f(, . "" 4p1^ '. :..'-': . e+'4 ;,,.?"." .. .. ,," /.1 . i i- "'" ', x , -., ' _ /4 LL14 . ---r Y-. 1 . -i' 'i) FI 4: ; t . r. -r,, .4 l,j;a ~ 4 . *I~ I 44. -. 4.4 41 4 4 .44.._ 44 A- . -.4 Ii~~l iIII 4 144 ~'/ / i4.4, Fl' r I(ii '4 i~s *44 I p/fr:,.' I, -,. i " :.; f : .. I "' "I/ ',, ',-- \ ~- i I ... , ./ // ,4,,/ .. .-. . / -/ I. - *IN T '.. .. ...' I ,.' 4 '. .'4 _.-,-.:- 4" .... il .-- .,o' .' -> --- 4. *. T 'L ,2 4 ", ', .-r *' _'- ",ll ,* ,,* /* :i' .t'f ,' ., F. ,. . .n1,. -, i i,' )_ _,,,,, .=,' -" ,, -; _.*,- ,_ -^ *- .' .: .. .,, y ,@ ,... I t. -., -- .- - .4s A, -35 *. '; -q t1y, *- ^ .'' f .'.- -, J .. + i. "-. "L f '' :* i-" .i**- ' ":-+' ;-: -:.. : *-:- 1. ._ "--... .',' : ._- .+,':,. '.,. -- Id 4. t.7,7.\ \.. .. -,i .. 'r. " ... .. tv. ++ 4 ._ -: - .- .. .. ; -_- .. -" ., .. i -. .. -. i," /2 s~~~ " -. -- . S.*.r .:. .. "'- L---di .'.' .- $ ' -4' - -4 4 .--v i 4. E,4;\ 3 / k~~h~t-;4 c~t 4A [4 ~1 * : II II' SI VERY male Spaniard is obliged to render three years of military service; but usually this is no severe hardship, and loving his ease, he leaves home cheerily enough. The government is rather embarrassed than served, in the matter of stationing this soldiery, especially since the close of the Carlist War. The conscripts are set to guard the palaces, the parks, the national buildings; they are sent to Cuba and elsewhere, whenever it is possible, in fact all opportunities and pretexts are seized to set up a soldier on duty, or rather a pair of them, as two are usually to be seen together. Leave of absence is easily obtained, and but few days of actual presence and service are required during the third year. However, the military requirements by the government never relax, as "insurrections" are indigenous to the country and climate. As the ancient Moorish doors are still frequent, so is the old form of knock and admission. The arrival raps smartly at the small door set within the great nail-studded gate. Presently an eye, a face, appears at the little wicket window to reconnoitre, to question. Should the examination reveal nothing dangerous or disagreeable, the latch-string is pulled, and entrance is permitted. "Burro" must needs appear in all Spanish picture and story, for he is prominent in all Spanish folk-life. He is to be seen everywhere, with his rude harness tufted with gay woollens, and big brass nails, moving over the landscape in town or country--the helpless slave, and abused burden-bearer, seldom petted, even by the children of the family. There are very handsome mules in Madrid and a few elsewhere; but the donkey is the national carrier. He is small, brown, brave, and always bruised. The Spaniards' "Get up!" is a brutal blow between the eyes. He is seldom stabled, seldom decently fed. He is tethered anywhere - under the grapevine, by the door, among the rocks, but always at his master's convenience; and his food is in matter and manner best known to himself. His harness is heavy and uncomfortable, and his hair is clipped close on his back where he needs protection most from the burning sun. This clipping is usually done at the blacksmith's, by a professional clipper, and is a sight of interest to the lazy populace. Under the great shears Burro's body is often decorated with half moons, eyes, monograms, garlands -whatever the fancy of his master, or the clipper, or the bystander may direct. Poor Burro! from first to last-poor Burro ! ____ _C_ .1 I , N Cordova, a sudden stir in the street often betokens "The Return S from the Chase"-not, however, the picturesque scattering of the "meet" after an English fox-hunt, but the arrival home of some I solitary mule and rider, with a pack of harriers. The huntsman has .: been riding across country all by himself, his cigarette, and his dogs, to ferret out some luckless colony of hares in a distant olive orchard. The rabbits are very mischievous in the young olive plantations, and the hunts- man and his pack are warmly welcomed by the olive-growers. These Spanish harriers are a keen-nosed race of dogs; quite as good hunters as the English fox-hounds. Nearly every breed of dog is found in Spain, except, perhaps, the Newfoundland. In most Spanish cities the dogs are one of the early morning sights as they gather in snarling, quarrelsome packs of from fifteen to twenty, before the doors of the hotels and restaurants, to devour the daily kitchen refuse -a very disagreeable spectacle; but there seems to be no other street-cleaning machinery. The chief streets of a Spanish town are usually thronged with fruit-sellers, especially the Plaza, where the great portion of the population seems to congre- gate to lounge and sleep in the sun all day long, naturally waking now and then to crave an orange, a palmete, or a pomegranate "regular meals appearing to be a regulation of daily life quite unknown. These fruit sellers are girls, for the most part, though sometimes there may be seen some old man who has not been able to procure a beggar's license. Oranges are always plenty. Palm- etes, a tender, bulbous growth, half vegetable, half fruit, are brought into the city in January, and are consumed largely by the peasants and beggars, who strip them into sections, chewing them for their rather insipid sweetish juices. The Spanish peasant cooks out-of-doors, like a gypsy. Often his kettle is his only "stove furniture;" in it he stews, boils, fries and bakes. Even in January, the cold month in Spain, he makes no change in his housekeeping. The peasants' daily bread is hardly bread at all, but rather a pudding, a batter of coarse flour, water and garlic, stirred, and boiled, and half baked in his kettle, and then pressed into a jar. This "garlic pot" he always carries about with him in his shoulder bag. In the patio apartments of some of the ancient, Moorish-built houses there are quaint arches with stone ovens, which are sometimes utilized for cookery. j~ic' ' :S\i r ; 1:11 :. I ,.r li"~Ew '. I 's Ppfqivv iqTitllM DRUNKEN Spaniard is rarely seen, although the "wine-skin" keeps constant company with the "garlic pot" in the peasant's bag. The heavy red wine of the country is used as freely as water, being sold for four cents a wine-skin ; this wine-skin holds a quart or more. Not to drink with the skin held at arms-length, is to be not Spanish, but French- their generic name for a foreigner or stranger. Fine and delicate wines are made in the neighborhood of some of the great vineyards, but they are chiefly for exportation. There is a popular saying, that Spanish ladies dress their hair but once a week. This is on Sunday, when they meet on one another's balconies to chat and gossip while their maids arrange their coiffures, each maid taking care that she pat, and pull, and puff until her mistress be taller than her friends, for height is a Spanish requisite for beauty and style. Certain it is that the tourist sometimes looks up and beholds this leisurely out-of-doors toilet-making. The glossy black hair is universal, a fair-haired woman becoming an occasion for persistent stares, although Murillo, in his time, seems to have found plenty of red-haired Spanish blondes to paint. Happy is the gazing traveller if he also may listen; for the music of a high-bred Spanish woman's voice is remarkable, holding in its flow, sometimes, the tones of a guitar, and the liquid sounds of dropping water. Spanish urchins are as noted for never combing their hair as Italian boys are for never washing their faces. The change of the yellow handkerchief dotted with big white eyes, which they knot about their heads and wear day and night, seems to be the only attention they think needful ever to bestow upon their raven locks. That Spanish peasant is very poor and unthrifty indeed, who does not con- trive to own a foot or two of land upon which to grow a choice Malaga grape- vine. Owning the vines, he erects an out-of-door cellar to preserve his crop- a simple arbor, upon the slats of which he suspends his clusters for winter use. Hanging all winter in the current of wind, the bunches of pale-green grapes may be taken down as late as February, and still be found as plump and delicious and as full of flavor as when hung. It is in this simple manner that they are preserved for the holiday markets. , . ",,' 1, ,. -.-- _. 'I I-""*';'""r' ^ 'y' '. \ I ~'^ .^ :."i r.. "- i ".. ;. -- ,, -- :.-:. _L ,- - Ys'.; ,*' I"','. ',",, .. .. ,- ... .. ., .: t: -.: ,' -- "- -i- 7 "-.- .. -.: . *-. ~- '-- -- ^ / ^, "l /'K "- ' , .^.-f -- -, . *" "-, -" ." II 4'4 t ~- I '. ( *~zaa ) -4 2-" A a 'itJ 'I-, - ii "L"'-' - -~ rIL 14 ,i i-1 rc -~ ~~tL- :y 'i t-~" :; NE of the most picturesque features of natural scenery which the : espetraveller comes upon in Southern Spain, is that of the olive orchards, especially those which cluster about Cordova. As the time of har- il-a vest draws near, the coloring of these orchards is particularly pleas- ing. The ripening fruit varies in tint, from vivid greens to gay reds and lovely purples, while the foliage, of willow-leaf shape, restless and quivering, is of a tender, shimmering, greenish gray, and the trunks often have a solemn and aged aspect. Many of these plantations are very ancient indeed, planted perhaps by the grandsires of the present owners. They are usually a source of much profit, as the best eating olives are those grown in Spain, and though the trees come into bearing late, there are orchards which have been known to yield fruit for centuries. Each orchard has a guard, or watchman, who tends it the year round, for the pruning, the tillage, and the watch upon the ripening fruit, demand constant care. In the harvest season the watch is by night as well as by day, for a vigorous shake of the branches will dislodge almost every berry, and a thief, with his donkeys and his panniers, might easily and almost noiselessly strip an entire orchard in a few hours. The olive guard lives in a hut of thatch or grass in summer, and in a sort of cave, or burrow, in winter. The crop is mainly harvested by girls and women, and the scene is like a picnic all day long, for Spanish girls turn all their labors into merry-making whenever it is possible to do so. The gray orchards are lighted up with the rainbow colors of the peasant costumes, and the air is musical with. the donkey bells, while the overseer, prone on the ground with his cigarette, "loafs and invites his soul," evidently finding great delight in the double drudgery he con- trols that of the donkeys and the damsels. In regard to the great age of olive-trees, a recent writer says: "When raised from seed it rarely bears fruit under fifty years, and when propagated in other ways it requires at least from twenty to twenty-five years. But, on the other hand, it lives for centuries. The monster olive at Beaulieu, near Nice, is supposed by Risso to be a thousand years old. Its trunk at four feet from the ground has a circumference of twenty-three feet, and it is said to have yielded five hundred pounds of oil in a single year." A'q~ I - Or? 'It 'E i 's I, AA/c'A -k I -6 4'4 Llvks r -y .,-.sr. *' Piz7 NV>- i I~ -1 ,-: AGAI- ANOLVEM-v -;i ~ .:; -I$. C~".4-.,.' -241 . 1. ;42' .r. -- .-.~ r a-; Iv' -I 'I A` ~~j; i 9~~i'r*-'-*- un ,4 *,-*. '-' ORDOVA, lying in the beautiful valley of the Guadalquiver, sur- rounded with gardens and villas, is well named the city of Age, Mellowness, and Tranquility. It abounds with antiquities, and at' S every turn memories are awakened of old Roman emperors, and the Arabian caliphs; the gates, the sculptures, the towers, the mullioned windows and nail-studded doors, the galleried houses and their beautiful patios fitted for idle life in the soft Andalusian weather, the mosques and the great bridges are all of those times. Even the streets are named after the old Roman and Spanish scholars and poets. The large bridge over the Guadalquiver was originally built by the Roman Emperor, Octavius Augustus; it was afterwards remodelled by the Arabs. The gate is very fine which leads into the gypsy quarter. The Moors had three thousand baths on the banks of the river, but in their day it was a full shining tide; now it is a muddy current, hardly in need of bridging at all. The mosques of Cordova are fine, and among them is the greatest Moslem temple in the world, with its beautiful chapels, its Court of Oranges, and its wondrous grove of marbles. This mosque, now used for Christian worship, was erected on the ruins of an old cathedral, which it is said had been built upon the site of a Roman temple. The Moslem structure was erected by the Caliph Abdurrahman, in the seventh century, and was a hundred years in building. The principal entrance is through the Court of Oranges, where beautiful palms also grow, and other tropical trees. Thence one emerges among a very forest of marble pillars, where countless magnificent naves stretch away and intersect, and the shining columns and pilasters spring upward into deli- cate double horseshoe arches. One marble is shown where a Christian captive, chained at its base, scratched a cross upon the stone with his nails. In some sections the ceiling is dazzling with arabesques and crystals. Within the mosque, in its very centre, rises a fine Catholic church, built in the time of Charles the Fifth. It contains many illuminated missals and rare old choir books. The Cordovans, like the people of other Spanish cities, are indebted to the Moors for the fine aqueducts which bring the cold mountain water across the valley into the public watering places. These great reservoirs are good points for observing some phases of folk-life. _ d RANADA, the beautiful city, with beautiful rivers, is named for a "grenade" or pomegranate. At the time of the Conquest, King Ferdinand on being assured how valiantly the Moors would defend their last stronghold, replied, "I will pick out the seeds of this grenade one by one." There is a tradition .among the Moors that when the hand carved over the principal entrance of the Alhambra shall reach down and grasp the key, also carved there, they shall regain their city, the ancient home of their caliphs. The Generalife lies across the valley from the Alhambra. It was the sum- mer palace of the Moorish sovereigns, and is built on a mountain slope by the Darro River, and its white walls gleam out from lovely terraced gardens, and groves of laurel. The grounds abound with fountains and summer houses. The Alhambra--the great royal castle -a town in itself--is built on a lovely tree-embowered height, its many towers rising high above the mass of foliage. From these towers one looks across the vale of the Vega to the spot where Columbus is said to have turned back, recalled by Isabella, on his way to seek English aid in his discovery of a New World. From these towers, too, can be seen the valley in the. distance, where Boabdil, last of the Moorish Kings, looked back on Granada for the last time; and across the river, one gazes upon the sombre region of the gypsy quarter, a swarming town of caves in the hillside. Two relics of Alhambra housekeeping still remain; a great oven, and a fine well. Both are utilized by the custodian of the palace. The palace itself has many beautiful patios. -The finest is known as the Court of Lions, named from the sculptured figures which support the fountain in the centre. Another is known sometimes as the Court of the Lake, and sometimes as the Court of the Myrtles; and still another, entered by subterranean ways, is the Hall of Divans, the special retreat of the Favorites. There are many others, and all these patios and halls are bewilderingly beautiful with arabesques, mosaics, inscriptions and wondrous arches and columns, porticos, vistas, alcoves and temples-and everywhere elegance of effect indescribable. . 'I I ,. *, ,, ',.*''ei ,, -_ I&^ ^ -- r tt =- = ', ,- -" " "- "-,- : " -7 7 1, 4 ', I i I : , j -Ii I - -' 7- 3 A I K- 'A -- .i. ni rc' ----~~ ,C1II "'''''III_ -4 r. Ii 9 II,!lc ** t 17 r1 -.' .41_ i *...t* 1 ~;ESTii~3 1. 7, Al~ / I T Granada, whenever it is desired, the proprietor of the Washington '' Irving Hotel will engage the Gypsy King to come with his daughters and dance the national dance at the house of one of S"' the guides. This dance is a most wild and weird performance. There is an incessant clapping of hands and clatter of castafiets, a sharp stamping of heels, an agonized swaying of the body and the arms; and often the castafiets and guitar are accompanied by a wild and mournful wail from the dancers. The king of the Granada gypsies is said to be the best guitar player in Spain. The climb from the city up to the vast Gypsy Quarter, known as the suburb of the Albaycin, is an adventure of a nightmare sort. The squalor and horror of the life to be witnessed on the way up along narrow streets swarm- ing with the weirdest and dirtiest of brown beggars, may not be painted, may not be written; yet now and then one goes under a superb Arab arch, passes a door rich with arabesques, or comes upon a group of elegant columns supporting a roof of mud and rock. The long hillside seems honeycombed with the den- like habitations of the gitanos, many of whom, among the men, are blacksmiths, while others work at pottery, turning out very handsome plates and water jars, while the women weave cloth, and do a rude kind of embroidery, all selling their wares in the streets in fact the spinning and weaving and sewing is often carried on in the street itself. But the little ones too (las ninas) add largely to the family income, as they dance for the visitor; the traveller and his guide being always invited to enter the caves. These gypsy children dance with much spirit, and they also sing many beautiful old ballads of Spanish prowess. The most beautiful ones among the girls are early trained to practice fortune-telling. With their dances, their songs, their fortune-telling, their importunate, imperious begging, and their rude industries, these Granada gypsies live here from century to century, in swarms of thousands, never attempting to improve their condition, but boasting, instead, of the comfort of their dismal caves as being cool in summer and warm in winter. It is plain that they consider themselves and their Quarter "a part of the show," and hardly second in interest to the Alhambra itself. r:: fT-:--------. :L. :-* i': ''~ 1 ARDLY is there a Spanish town of note, that does not possess its great Bull Ring; and there are scores of inferior Bull Circuses f throughout Spain. There is but a slight public sentiment against the brutal sport which is the favorite Sunday recreation of the whole nation. Spanish kings and queens for many centuries have sat in the royal boxes to applaud, and many of the Spanish noblemen of the present time breed choice fighting bulls on their farms, and there is the same mad admiration of the agile, skilful espado or bull slayer, as a hundred years ago. To be a fine picador or banderillo, is to be sure of the praise and the presents of the entire populace. Men, women and children go; the amphitheatre is always crowded and always the crowd will sit breathless and happy to see six or eight bulls killed, and three times that count of horses--the rich and the nobles on the shady side under the awnings, the peasants sweltering and burning in the sun. It is the picador who rides on horseback to invite with his lance the attacks of the bull as he enters the arena; it is the capeador who springs into the arena with his cloak of maddening red or yellow, to dis- tract the bull's attention from the fallen horseman ; it is the banderillo who taunts the wounded creature with metal-tipped arrows, the barbs of which cannot be extracted, or with his long pole leaps tauntingly over the back of the confused creature; but it is the gorgeous cspado with his sword, entering the arena, at last, who draws all eyes. With his red flag he plays with the bull as a cat with the mouse, until the amphitheatre is mad for life blood; then with a swift, graceful stroke he ends all, -his superb foe lies dead, and he turns from him to meet the wild shower of hats, cigars, flowers, fans, purses that beats upon him from all sides-it is a scene of unimaginable exultation, for there are glad cries and plaudits, and royalty itself throws the bull-slayer a golden purse and a pleased smile, and the beautiful Spanish sefioritas lavish upon him the most bewildering attentions. The Spanish boy is born with a thirst for this sport. Their favorite game is Toro. One lad mounts on his fellow's back to take the part of the picador and his horse; another, with horns of sticks, represents the bull; and the rest are capeadors banderillos, and escodas, while the audience of adult loungers look on with fierce excitement. It is in this fierce, popular street sport that the future champions of the Bull Ring are trained and developed -to be an escoda is usually the height of a Spanish boy's ambition. .4 t.: Vt -a'C5- I- -- I JJ* a 7 IV ".., ".YR, ',,-" - -' 1 c- l ' _r^ ; / . 6 ".. ,*; r:,:: i'il ii:!t: .... ./ .!.,. --i:,/,,a,.',/ : cI- -- - - j ' ' I Z II I 4 . S : ,' I --) I.' i .'- -.. , 7/ /V/r'DINGONHTdr(BEflT, ATRrEnH TN Nflb I1 WCoI'rozDDuE. I:.. --- o- -. -.- ,^ ~ 1 "- .' .. -- --- *i r ,t.- - / '~~ ,t -" ;+:' .- '- . ,1.r- --- / 2 u 1~.( ~.. -L. ~yc~- 8 ~'' r r .i I~ -Sko1kE4CH R Z/VRS TCP. w44iL4/Ju rlo" 1lfIt NOT rJITNECC. l, l I I I I -' t l. l l 'T, ii ,. i I 1 = i -- l 4; l 14 0* A.' 4 __ u OWHERE in Spain are you refreshed with the restful sound of water, sometimes soft, sometimes gay, as in Granada. You hear the flow of the Darro over its stones and rocks, you hear the splash of fountains, the gay hurry of mountain brooks, the soft sound of springs-everywhere flow, or gurgle, or drip. You hear it on the tree bordered and bowered Alameda in your moonlit walks, and you hear it through the windows of your fonda, or hotel, when you wake. It is everywhere about the Alhambra heights, and the Generalife terraces. The Spaniards call this continuous water-sound, "The Sigh of the Moor." Most of the young Spanish women as well as the men, are accomplished guitar-players. The guitar belongs in story to the Sefiorita, along with her mantilla and her fan. It usually hangs on her casement, brave with ribbons and gay wool tufts and all manner of decorations, and by moonlight she will come out upon the balcony to answer her cavelier's serenade with a song as sweet as his own. You feel the atmosphere of the Spanish night vibrating all about you, as you stroll along the moonlit street, with the low, soft, delicate twinkle of a hundred guitars, the players half-hidden in the dim patio balconies. It is often the custom to.drive the goats from door to door to be milked, and often an accustomed goat, tinkling its bells, will go along the street, stopping of its own will and knowledge at the doors of its customers, and knocking smartly with its horns should no one appear. The servant of the house comes out into the street and milks the desired quantity, while the "milkman" lounges near by with his cigarette. Often it is as amusing to watch the dogs of the beggars by the churches as the men themselves. While the noble Caballeros, Don Miguel and Don Pedro, exhausted with the saying of prayers and the much asking of centimos, have fallen asleep in the shade, their respective dogs remain awake to glare at each other with true professional jealousy, and to growl and snap, should a chance stranger drop a coin in one hat and not in the other. The begger is the last sight, as well as the first, which greets the traveler in Spain. '. 1 1.~1 Il' .j .~II r .*- '"9 A-i~~5 A- -~ ."p~)"L~- ;_i.,i I- ,S". d. .i Lri 22 0i ~ _?,L41N*i~~u ~ii~l;4 I 1~ :1. I ,,, -/ ,*1, -I*_ :'. ;s: ~ .,, ~~,, ALO QUEEN LOUISA AND THE CHILDREN. BY MARY STUART SMITH. UEEN LOUISA of Prussia was the mother of come, or some pretty gift. A sweet little girl ad- William I., Emperor of Germany, and although vanced to give the queen a bunch of flowers, and she has been dead over sixty years her one hun- Louisa was so struck with the child's loveliness that dredth birthday was celebrated elaborately through- she stooped down and kissed her on the forehead. out her son's do- Mein Gott!" ex- minions, with al- claimed the horrified most as many rejoic- mistress of cere- ings as we made monies. "Whathas here over the one your majesty done ?" hundredth birthday r. Louisa was as artless of these United and simple as a child States. herself. What?" When a child said she, is that Louisa was very ,r wrong? Must I beautiful, and as she never do so again ?" grew up did not dis- But the prince, appoint the promise f her husband, was no of those early days. fonder of show and She was married ceremony than her- to Frederick Wil- ----- self, and asserted liam, Crown Prince -manfully the right of Prussia,when only of his wife and him- seventeen years of :-- self to act like other age, and brought affectionate people, down upon herself a :'.- in spite of being king sharp rebuke from and queen. the proud mistress This royal pair of ceremonies for had eight children, the love she showed \ '' and upon these to a little child as :children was lav- she was making her ished every care and public entry into 1 / attention. Itissaid Berlin, preparatory -that every night the to the solmnization king and queen went of her marriage. It together to visit their happened thus: QUEEN LOUISA. sleeping children af- The streets were thronged with people who had ter they had been put into their little beds, and many come to catch a glimpse of the fair young bride, a time wer: they surprised by a bright pair of wide- while every now and then select persons would step awake eyes smiling back upon them a look of love in forward and present complimentary poems of wel- return. Queen Louisa used to say, The children's QUEEN LOUISA AND THE CHILDREN. world is my world," nor were the little creatures slow to reciprocate the love she gave. You know Christmas is observed in Germany with peculiar reverence, and is a season set apart for mirthful recreation among all classes, but more es- pecially for the enjoyment of children. Berlin is gay with Christmas trees and a brilliant array of toys etc., for at least a week beforehand. Like other parents the king and queen found de- light in preparing pleasant surprises for their little ones. While engaged in choosing presents for them, on one occasion they entered a top-shop where a citizen's wife was busy making purchases, but recog- nizing the new-comers she bowed respectfully and retired. The queen addressed her in her peculiarly winning way and sweet voice. Stop, dear lady, what will the stall-keeper say if we drive away his customers ? She then inquired if the lady had come to buy toys for her children, and asked how many little ones she had. Hearing there was a son about the age of the Crown Prince, the queen bought some toys and gave them to the mother, saying, Take them, dear lady, and give them to your crown prince in the name of mine." But I must tell you a yetprettier story, showing the queen's fondness for making children happy. There lived in Berlin a father and mother, who from some cause were so poor, and low-spirited besides, that when the holiday came which all children love best, they quietly resigned themselves to having noth- ing to give their little ones. What can be more sad than a house which no Kriss Kringle visits ? Just think of it! They told their children that there was to be.no Christmas tree for them this year. The little boy and his sister had been led to believe that the Christ-kind or Christ-child provides the tree and the gifts which are placed on tables round it; only ornaments, sweets and tapers are hung upon the branches. Under this disappointment the children, in the innocent simplicity of their faith, sought the aid of the good Christ-kind in their own way. Christmas Eve came, and the poor troubled parents looked on with wonder as they beheld their children hopping and skipping about with joy, although they were to be the only children for whom no Christ- mas tree would be lighted, nor pretty gifts provided. Still in high spirits they watched at the window, and clapped their hands when the door-bell rang, exclaim- ing: Here it comes !" The door was opened and a man-servant appeared, laden with a gay tree and several packets, each addressed to some member of the family. There must be some mistake said the mother. No, no cried the boy, "it is all right. I wrote to the good Christ-kind, and told him what we wanted, and that you could not buy anything this year." The parents enjoyed the evening with their child- ren and afterwards unravelled the mystery. The postmaster, astonished by a letter evidently written by a very young scribe and addressed to the Christ- kind, had sent it to the palace with a respectful inquiry as to what should be done with a letter so strangely directed. Queen Louisa read it and, as a handmaid of the Christ-kind, she answered his little children.* Lousia's sympathies were ever ready to flow for the sorrows of childhood, which so many grown peo- ple will not stoop to even notice. One day as the king and queen were entering a town, a band of young girls came forward to strew flowers and to present a nosegay. Her majesty in- quired how many little girls there were. "Nine- teen," replied the artless child; "there would have been twenty of us but one was sent back home be- cause she was too ugly." The kind queen feeling for the child's mortification sent for her and requested that she might by all means be allowed to join in the festivities of the day. Nor did Louisa slight the boys. She was one day walking in the streets of Char- lottenburg, attended by a lady-in-waiting; a number of boys were running and tumbling and playing somewhat rudely, and one of them ran up against the queen. Her lady reproved him sharply, and the little fellow looked frightened and abashed. The queen patted his rosy cheek, saying: "Boys will be a little wild; never mind, my dear boy, I am not angry." She then asked his name and bade him give her compliments to his mother. The child knew who the lady was, and besides having the pleasant memory of her gracious speech and looks received a lesson in politeness which he never forgot. Sometimes the royal children were allowed to have a party, and this indulgence young princes and prin- cesses enjoy just as much as other juveniles. A queer anecdote is told of the only daughter of the Mrs. Hudson's Life of Queen Louisa. QUEEN LOUISA AND THE CHILDREN. famous Madame de Stael, in relation to one of these entertainments. The little lady was about ten years of age, but had already imbibed many opinions and prejudices. At all events she had a high idea of her own im- portance, and was totally wanting in respect for her superiors in rank. She was apt to be very rude in her manners and in her remarks. On this occasion she took offence at something which the little Crown Prince said or did to her, and very coolly gave him a sharp box on the ear, upon which he ran crying to his mother and hid his face in the folds of her dress. As mademoiselle, when remonstrated with, showed not a particle of concern, and refused to say she was sorry, she was not invited again, and her learned mamma found that she must keep her daughter at home until she taught her better manners.* The annual fair at Paretz, the king's beloved coun- try home, took place during the merry harvest-time. A number of booths were then put up near the vil- lage, and besides buying and selling there was a great deal or dancing and singing going on, and all sorts of games and sports. It was then that the wheel of fortune was turned for the children's lottery. Lots of cakes and fruit were set round in order, which Sir George Jackson. were given away according to the movements of a pointer, turned by the wheel. Queen Louisa encouraged the children to crowd around her on these occasions ; she could not bear to see them afraid of her, and placed herself beside the wheel, in order to secure fair play and to watch carefully that she might make some amends for the unkindness of fortune. She had her own ample store of good things which she dispensed among the unlucky children, many of whom thought more of the sweet words and looks of the queen than of any- thing else she could give them. Moreover she was glad to have a chance of leading even one of her little subjects to be generous and self-denying. For, while she liked to see them all happy, she at the same time interested herself in giving pleasantly little hints as to conduct that might be of lasting benefit. All her life Queen Louisa watched beside the wheel in a higher sense. She overlooked the whole circle of which she was the centre, anxiously seeking to hold out a helping hand to any whom she saw likely to be ruined by losses in the great lottery of real life. Is it matter for wonder then that German chil- dren still cherish her memory, and delight to place flowers upon vase or tomb that bears her name? THE PLAYTHING OF AN EMPRESS. BY M. S. P. D OUBTLESS the readers of GRAMMAR SCHOOL have heard it said that Men and Women are only children of a larger growth." No matter how stately the grand ladies that we often meet with may ap- pear, you may be very sure that they sometimes envy the pleasures of children, who have no thoughts about fine houses and servants, and a hundred other cares. Even wearing a crown does not bring happiness; the dignity it entails often becomes burdensome. Once a young prince, who had everything that he could possibly want given him,-books, jewels, play- things of inconceivable variety, horses and dogs, in fact all the nice things that you can imagine to bring him pleasure, -was observed by his attendants to be standing by the window, crying. When asked the cause of his tears he replied that he was unhappy be- cause he could not join the boys in the street who were making mud pies ! The Indians who use the bow and arrow say that the proper way to keep the strength of their bows is to unstring them after use and let them relax. So it is with those whose minds or bodies are engaged in one long strain of work ; they must be relaxed or they be- come useless. The late Pope of Rome was a very dignified old man, and was also surrounded by learned and great men. He rode in a gilded coach drawn by four horses, and was in public a very grand and stately person. But I read the other day that the old gentleman and some of his cardinals were once seen playing ball in his garden, for the purpose of amusing a-little boy. More than a hundred years ago the great country east of Germany, known as Russia, was ruled by the Empress Anne. It is a very cold country and the winter is very long. The capital is St, Petersburg, and through it the river Neva runs. This river freezes in winter, and the ice is frequently so solid that it will bear up an army of several thousand men with all their heavy guns and mortars, and these be discharged without so much as cracking the ice, At the close of the year 1739, during an extremely cold winter, the empress ordered one of her archi- tects to build an Ice Palace. The great square in front of the royal palace was chosen for its site. Blocks of the clearest ice were selected, carefully measured,, and even ornamented with architectural designs.. They were raised with cranes and carefully placed in position, and were cemented together by the pouring: of water over them. The water soon froze and made the blocks one solid wall of ice. The palace was fifty-six feet long, seventeen and one half feet: wide, and twenty-one feet high. Can you imagine anything more beautiful than such a building made of transparent ice and sparkling in the sun ? It was surrounded by a balustrade, behind which were placed six ice cannon on carriages. These can- non were exactly like real metal ones, and were so, hard and solid that powder could be fired in them. The charge used was a quarter of a pound of pow- der and a ball of oakum. At the first trial of the cannon an iron ball was used. The empress with all her court was present, and the ball was fired. It pierced a plank two inches thick at a distance of sixty feet. Besides these six cannon in front of the palace, there were two ice mortars which carried iron balls weighing eighty pounds with a charge of one quarter of a pound of powder. Then, too, there were tNo~ ice dolphins, from whose mouths a flame of burning naptha was thrown at night with most wonderful ef- fect. Between the cannon and dolphins, in front of the palace, there was a balustrade of ice ornamented with square pillars. Along the top of the palace there was a gallery and a balustrade which was orna- mented with round balls. In the centre of this stood four beautiful ice statues. The frames of the doors and windows were painted green to imitate marble. There were two entrances THE PLAYTHING OF AN EMPRESS. to the palace, on opposite sides, leading into a square vestibule which had four windows. All the windows were made of perfectly transparent ice, and at night they were hung with linen shades on which grotesque figures were painted, and illuminated by a great num- ber of candles. Before entering the palace one naturally stopped to admire the pots of flowers on the balustrade, and the orange trees on whose branches birds were perch- ing. Think of the labor and patience required to make such perfect imitations of nature in ice ! Standing in the vestibule, facing one entrance and having another behind, one could see a door on either hand. Let us imagine ourselves in the room on the left. It is a sleeping-room apparently, but if you stop to think that every article in it is made of ice you will hardly care to spend a night there; and yet it is said that two persons actually slept on the bed there for an entire night. On one side is a toilet-table. Over it hangs a mirror, on each side of which are candelabra with ice candles. Sometimes at night these candles were lit by being dipped in naptha. On the table is a watch-pocket, and a vari- ety of vases, boxes, and ornaments of curious and beautiful design. At the other side of the room we see the bed hung with curtains, furnished with sheets and a coverlid and two pillows, on which are placed two night-caps. By the side of the bed on a foot- stool are two pairs of slippers. Opposite the bed is the fireplace which is beautifully carved and orna- mented. In the grate lie sticks of wood also made of ice, which are sometimes lighted like the candles by having naptha poured over them. The opposite room is a dining-room. In the cen- tre stands a table on which is a clock of most won- derful workmanship. The ice used is so transparent that all the wheels and works are visible. On each side of this table two beautifully carved sofas are placed, and in the corners of the room there are stat- ues. On one side we see a sideboard covered with a variety of ornaments. We open the doors and find inside a tea-set, glasses and plates which contain a variety of fruits and vegetables, all made of ice but painted in imitation of nature. Let us now go through the opposite door and no- tice the other curious things outside the palace. At each end of the balustrade we see a pyramid with an opening in each side like the dial of a clock. These pyramids are hollow, and at night a man stands in- side of them and exhibits illuminated pictures at the grand openings. Perhaps the greatest curiosity of all is the life-like elephant at the right of the palace. On his back sits. a Persian holding a battle-axe, and by his side stand two men as large as life. The elephant, too, is hol- low, and is so constructed that in the daytime a stream of water is thrown from his trunk to a height of twenty-four feet, and at night a flame of burning naptha. In addition to this, the wonderful animal is so arranged that from time to time he utters the most natural cries. This is done by means of pipes into which air is forced. On the left of the palace stands a small house, built of round blocks of ice resembling logs, inter- laced one with another. This is the bath-house, without which no Russian establishment is complete. This bath-house was actually heated and used on sev- eral occasions. When this wonderful ice-palace was completed it was thrown open to the public, and such crowds came to see it that sentinels were stationed in the house to prevent disorder. This beautiful palace stood from the beginning of January until the end of March. Then, as the weather became warmer, it began to melt on the south side; but even after it lost its beauty and symmetry as a palace it did not become entirely useless, for the largest blocks of ice were transferred to the ice- houses of the imperial palace, and thus afforded grateful refreshment during the summer, as well as a pleasant reminder of The Plaything of an Em- press." CHARLIE'S WEEK IN BOSTON. CHARLIE'S WEEK IN BOSTON. BY CHARLES E. HURD. CHARLIE was going to Boston. The ceaseless clatter of his little copper-toed boots over all the bare places in the house, and the pertinacious hammering he kept up upon everything capable of emitting sound, rendered it impossible for his mamma or the new baby to get any rest, and so it was that the decision came about. Aunt Mary, who had lent her presence to the household for the preceding fortnight, was to return home the following day, and with her, after infinite discussion, it was decided that he was to go for a week. The momentous news was withheld from Charlie until the next morning, for fear of the result upon his night's sleep, but it was injudiciously let out by Aunt Mary before breakfast, the effect being to at once plunge the young gentleman into the highest state of excitement. He had played go to Boston a thou- sand times with his little cart and wheelbarrow, but to take such a journey in reality was something he could hardly imagine possible. "Am I going to Boston, real 'live? he wildly in- quired. "Where's my rubber boots, and my little chair, and my cart, and I want my piece of gum mamma tooked away, and where's my sled ? " "But, Charlie," said Aunt Mary, persuasively, you are not going now, and you don't want to take all those things. There isn't any snow in Boston, and good little boys don't chew gum. You must have some breakfast." I don't want any breakfast. I want to go to Bos- ton. I got to go, now you said so." "Yes, but you must have something to eat first. It would make you sick to ride so far without eating. And then you must have a nice bath, and put on your new suit that papa bought last week. You've plenty of time." But Charlie, generally good to mind, was thor- oughly demoralized by the new turn in affairs, and had to be brought to the table by main force. It's like taking a horse to water," said Aunt Mary. "You can get him to the trcugh, but you can't make him drink without he likes. Charlie, have a nice large griddle-cake ? " Griddle-cakes were Charlie's weak point, but in a time like this he rose superior to the temptation. "Don't want griddle-cakes; don't want bread; don't want toast; don't want anything. I want to get right down out of my little chair, and go to Bos- ton, awful quick !" "The child will be down sick if he goes away on an empty stomach," said grandma from her bed- room, where she could see all that transpired at the table. "Can't you make him eat? " It's all very well to say 'Make him eat,' but he won't," said Aunt Mary. "You might just as well make a squirrel sit down and eat in a respectable manner." "Let him go till he gets hungry, then," said his father. "He'll come to it soon enough. There's no danger of his starving." If Charlie had been a grown man, with whiskers, and going to some European Court as Minister Ex- traordinary, he couldn't have felt the importance of his prospective journey more, or been more weighed down by the preparations for it. The train which was to carry him did not start until two o'clock, and in the six hours which intervened his little tongue was in constant motion, and his little feet tramping up and down stairs, getting ready." But you're only going to stay for a week, you know, Charlie," said Aunt Mary, dismayed at the heap of toys he had industriously gathered in a corner of the sitting-room for transportation, and you'll see so many pretty things that you won't care for any of these." I want to carry my wheelbarrow. I will be cross if I don't carry my wheelbarrow. And my cunnin' little cunnin' watlin' pot, and my high chair, and some more." "But Aunt Mary couldn't get them into her trunk, CHARLIE'S WEEK IN BOSTON. and the railroad man wouldn't let Charlie take them into the cars. Put them all away nicely, and then Charlie will have them when he comes home." It required a great deal of judicious argument, intermingled with promises, to gain the point, and final success was only achieved by a formal agreement, to which grandma was made a witness, by virtue of which Charlie was to become the possessor of "a speckled rocking-horse, just like Johnny Baker's, with real hair ears, and a tight tail, that boys couldn't pull out." This compact having been made, Charlie submitted to the washing and dressing process with comparative good grace. An exceedingly light dinner preceded the start, varied by excursions to the front door to see if the depot stage was coming. It came at last, and, after the leave-taking, Charlie and Aunt Mary were packed in among half a dozen others. The whip cracked, the coach gave a sudden lurch, and then dashed down the street at the heels of the horses, who seemed anxious to get to the station at the earliest possible moment. There was just time to get tickets and seats before the train started. If Charlie was unmanageable before, he was doubly so now. At every stopping-place he made desperate efforts to get out of the car, and once or twice, in spite of Aunt Mary's efforts, very nearly succeeded. He dropped his hat out of the window ; he dirtied his face beyond redemption with dust and cinders ; he put cake crumbs down the neck of an old lady who had fallen asleep on the seat just in front, and horrified the more staid portion of the passengers in the car by a series of acts highly inconsistent with the rules of good breeding, and the character of a nice boy. Boston was reached at last, and the perils of pro- curing a hack and getting safely home in it were surmounted. So thankful was Aunt Mary that she could have dropped upon her knees on the sidewalk in front of the door; but she managed to control her feelings, paid the hackman his dollar, still keeping a tight grip upon Charlie, and, despite his struggles to join the distant audience of a hand-organ, managed to get him safely into the house, where he was at once delivered over to the other members of the household. I never, never, never will go out of the house with that child again !" she declared, half crying, and sinking into a chair without taking her bonnet off. "He's enough to kill anyone outright. No wonder they wanted to get rid of him at home It'll be a mercy if he don't drive us all crazy before the week is out. One thing is certain, they'll have to send for him. '11 never take him home again." "Why didn't you drug him, Aunt Mary," asked Tom, with a great show of sympathy. "Iwould." I declare I would have done anything, if I had only known how he was going to act! You may laugh and think it's all very funny, but I just wish you'd some of you try it yourselves. Where is he now ? If he's out of sight a single minute he'll be in some mischief. There he goes now " The last declaration of Aunt Mary was preceded by a series of violent bumps, followed by a loud scream from the bottom of the basement stairs. A grand rush to the spot revealed Charlie lying at the foot, beating the air with his legs, with a vigor that at once dispelled all fears as to his serious injury. He was picked up and borne into the kitchen by the cook, where the gift of a doughnut soon dried his tears, and he was returned to the sitting-room to await the ringing of the bell for tea. Has he had a nap to-day? asked grandmother. "Nap I should think the child would be dead for want of sleep. I don't believe he's winked to-day! " "He looks like it now, anyway," said Tom, who was holding him in his arms. Sure enough, his eyelids were beginning to droop, and a moment after the half-eaten doughnut dropped from his loosened fingers upon the carpet. Carry him up to my room, Tom, and lay him upon my bed. Don't for mercy's sake hit his head against anything. We shan't have any peace if he gets awake again." Slowly and carefully Tom staggered under his little burden up-stairs, and laid it upon the clean white coverlet of Aunt Mary's bed. "That will do," said Aunt Mary, who had followed close behind. He's thoroughly tired out, and no wonder. You may go down now and I will take care of him, dear little fellow." With careful fingers she untied the laces of his little boots, and pulled them off. The stockings came next, and the hot little feet were released from con- finement. The tiny jacket was then removed, the tangled hair put back, and then, with a sponge wet in CHARLIE'S WEEK IN BOSTON. cool water, the dirty, sweaty little face was softly bathed until it became quite presentable again. "There she said at last, surveying him with a feeling of satisfaction, he will sleep at least a couple of hours. By that time I shall get rested, and can manage him better. I suppose it's because he's so tired, and everything is new." With this apology for Charlie in her heart, and a half remorseful feeling for her lately displayed impa- tience, she descended the stairs to the dining-room, where the rest of the family were already seated at the table. A few minutes later, and while she was deep in an account of matters and things at Charlie's home, the cook came up-stairs in something of a fluster. "Plaze, ma'am, there's something on the house." "Something on the house ? " "Yes. McKillop's boarders across the way are all at the windows, an' the men is laughing' and the women frightened." With one accord a sudden and informal adjourn- ment to the parlor window was made, the result being a verification of the cook's statement. What on earth can be the matter ? said grand- mother. At this moment Mrs. McKillop, after a series of incomprehensible gestures, which nobody could trans- late with any clearness, dispatched her girl across the street. There's a child, ma'am," she exclaimed, in breath- less excitement, a baby, walking about on the out- "tide of your house like a fly he's- Howly Father " This sudden exclamation was caused by the descent of a flower pot, which, coming with the swiftness of a meteor, missed the head of the speaker by less than a hand's-breadth, and crashed into a thousand pieces on the front steps. The situation was taken in at once. With a suc- cession of screams Aunt Mary flew up the stairs two at a time. By this a crowd was rapidly gathering. Bring out something to catch him in if he falls," shouted a fat old gentleman, pushing his way to the front. Grandmother caught a tidy from the arm of the sofa, and, snatching a volume of Tennyson from the centre-table, rushed frantically into the street, closely followed by Tom with a feather duster. A single glance told the whole story. There sat Charlie, utterly innocent of clothing save a shirt of exceeding scantness, on the very edge of the broad projection below the third-story window, his legs dan- gling in space, watching with delighted interest the proceedings of the excited crowd in the street below. No one knows what might have happened, for, at that moment, while a hot discussion was being carried on among the gathered spectators, as to the propriety of sounding a fire alarm for a hook and ladder company, the arms of Aunt Mary came through the window, and closed upon him like a pair of animated pincers. There was a brief struggle, productive of a perfect shower of flower-pots, and then, amid a hurricane of shouts and cheers, the little white body and kicking legs disappeared within the room. When, two min- utes later, the entire household, with a fair sprinkling of the McKillop boarders, had reached the scene, they found Charlie shut up in the wardrobe, and Aunt Mary in hysterics, with her back against the door. If he stays here a week we shall have to board up the windows, and keep a policeman," said grand- mother, that night, after Charlie had been guarded to sleep on the sitting-room lounge, with the door locked. "We shall have to have watchers for him, for I would no more dare to go to sleep without some one awake with him than I would trust him with a card of matches and a keg of gunpowder. And that makes me think: we musn't leave matches where he can get them; and, father, you'll have to go down town the first thing in the morning, and see about an insurance." Notwithstanding the universally expressed fears, Charlie slept like a top all night, and really behaved so well the next morning that it was deemed safe to give him an airing, and introduce him to the sights of Boston. Right after dinner he was taken in hand, and dressed and curled and frilled as he never had been before, creating serious doubts in his own mind as to whether he was really himself, or another boy of about the same size and general make. At half-past two o'clock the party set out, Aunt Mary on one side, tightly grasping Charlie's hand, and on the other a female friend, especially engaged for the occasion. Tom followed on behind as a sort ol rear guard, ready to be called upon in case of emer. agency. First the Public Garden was visited. Hardly had half'the circuit of the lake been made, when Charlie, CHARLIE'S WEEK IN BOSTON. attracted by one of the gayly painted boats which was moored a few feet from the shore, broke loose and made a sudden dash to reach it, to the utter ruin of his stockings and gaiters. In vain Aunt Mary coaxed and. remonstrated and threatened; in vain she at- tempted to hook him out with the handle of her para- sol; he was just out of reach and he kept there. He was brought out by one of the gardeners at last, who seemed to look up- on it as an excel- lent joke. Tom, who had lagged be- hind, was sent back after dry stockings and Charlie's sec- .ond-best shoes, which, when brought, were changed in the ves- tibule of the Public Library, and the line of march again ,, taken up. The ,!, , deer on the Com- ,', mon were fed, --- Punch and Judy viewed and criti- tized, and the thou- sand and one vari- .,, ous objects in the '"'l vicinity visited. ____- Charlie was de- --. lighted with every- --'----'i'- thing, but through l-- and above all one MOUNTED UPON THE BACK OF THE grand desire and determination rode rampant-the desire and deter- mination to enter into possession of the promised, but as yet unrealized, wocking-horse." Down Winter Street to Washington, in the great, sweeping crowd of men, women and children; past the gorgeous dry goods stores; past candy and apple stands; past all sorts of strange and funny and bewil- tering things, Charlie was slowly dragged, a helpless and unwilling prisoner. He only broke silence once. Passing a window filled with braids and chignons, and doubtless taking them for scalps, he inquired with considerable interest if "Indians kept store there." AR Oh what a lovely silk! ejaculated Aunt Mary's friend, coming to a sudden stop before one of the great dry goods emporiums on Washington Street. Aunt Mary stopped, too. The pattern was too gorgeous to be lightly passed. She raised her hand to remove her vail, forgot her charge for a moment, and when she looked again Charlie had disappeared. "Charlie Charlie Why, where is he? she ex- claimed, pale with fright. "I thought S"you had hold of 'N t him " s' I dropped his Sand not a minute _, .'" ago, to be sure my pocket hadn't been i' -. picked. I thought you would look out for him." S, \ In vain they searched; in vain t h e y questioned clerks and police- men and apple-wo- .men. Nobody had seen such a boy, and yet everybody SI seemed to think that they certainly should remember -i ,,;;, --- if they had. It l li ijI"" was now half past four. And Tom, 'li;'lllit'l"'~-~~7 --- L ~who might have GEST AND REALIST LOOKING HORSE." helped them so much, was gone ! "Perhaps," suggested a pitying apothecary's clerk, with a very small moustache and very smooth hair, perhaps the young man Tom has taken him home." There was a small spark of comfort in this sugges- tion and, though unbelieving, the two hurried home- wards, only to find Tom sitting on the doorstep, lazily fanning himself, and hear his surprised ejaculation: "Why what have you done with Charlie ?" He's lost said Aunt Mary, bursting into tears. "He'll get run over, or carried away, or something terrible will happen to him. I shall never have another minute's peace while I live " CHARLIE'S WEEK IN BOSTON. Tom listened impatiently to the details of the story, told by both together, and, tossing his fan into the hall, started down the steps. Don't fret till I come back. He's all right some- where, and I'll bring him home with me." I'm going back. I can't stay here. I can help search," said Aunt Mary, still in tears, and her loyal companion avowed her determination to stand by her. Tom had hurried away without stopping to listen, and was now out of sight; but the two wretched women, heated, footsore and wearied, followed reso- lutely after. The scene of the mysterious disappearance was at last reached, and again the oft repeated in- quiries were made, but with the same result. Here is where I was intending to bring him," said Aunt Mary, pausing mournfully before the window of a toy-bazar crowded with drums, guns, trumpets and wooden monkeys. "He had talked so much about his rocking-horse, the poor lost lamb And now-" The sentence was never finished, for, with a half hysterical shriek, she dropped her parasol upon the sidewalk and rushed into the store, where the appari- tion of a curly head of flaxen hair, slowly oscillating back and forth, had that instant caught her eye. It was Charlie, sure enough, in the highest feather, mounted upon the back of the largest and realest- looking horse in the entire stock of the establishment, whose speed he was endeavoring to accelerate by the aid of divers kicks and cluckings, while the proprie- tor and unemployed clerks looked admiringly on. Aunt Mary, despite her regard for appearances, hugged him and cried over him without stint, and finally made a brave attempt to scold him, but her heart failed her, at the very outset. He's been here nigh upon two hours," said the proprietor, as he made change for the coveted horse. He came in alone and went right to that horse, and there he's stuck ever since. I don't let boys handle 'em much without I know they're going to buy, but he made me think so much of a little fellow I lost a year ago that I let him do just as he liked." No mishap occurred in getting Charlie home this time. The toyman's boy was sent for a hack, and, with the rocking-horse perched up by the side of the driver, and the doors tightly closed, nothing hap- pened beyond what happens to ordinary boys who are carried about in hacks. Some little difficulty was experienced in getting him out on arrival home, for it appeared that he had formed the plan on the way of taking his horse into the coach and making a tour of the city by himself. He could not in any manner be satisfied of the impossibility of such an arrange- ment, and was at last taken out in a high state of in- dignation by the driver, who expressed a vehement wish to himself that "he had such a young one!" Nothing took place worthy of mention before bed- time, with the exception, perhaps, of the breaking of the carving-knife, and the ruin of Aunt Mary's gold pen in an attempt to vaccinate his new acquisition. For three days peace-comparative peace -reigned in the household. From morning till night, in season and out of season, Charlie was busy with his horse,, astride of it, or feeding it, or leading it to water, or punishing it for imaginary kicks and bites, and so. keeping out of mischief; but with the dawn of the: fourth he awoke, apparently for the first time, to a realization of the fact that he was not lying in his own little bed, and a sudden flood of homesickness rolled over his soul, drowning out rocking-horse, hand-organs, Tom's music-box, and each and every Bostonian de- light which, until that moment, had led him captive. From that moment his mourning was as incessant and obstinate as that of Rachael. He sat on the top stair, and filled the house with wailings. Cakes, candy and coaxings were alike in vain, and even a desperate promise of Tom's--to show him a whole drove of elephants, had no more effect upon him, to use the cook's simile, than the wind that blows." No human being can endure it any longer," declared grandma, and in that statement every mem- ber of the household cordially agreed. That fact having been established without dis- cussion, but one thing remained to do; to get him home in as good condition as when he left there. One can hardly do that," said Tom. He's got a rag on every finger but one, and I don't know how much court-plaster about him." Notwithstanding, the afternoon train saw Charlie on board, under the double guardianship of Aunt Mary and Tom, and at five o'clock he was in his mother's arms. "The silence in the house was a thousand times worse than the sound of his little feet," she said, with - her eyes full of tears, "and made me think of that possible time when I should never hear them any more." eJohimy'9 a druiner aud drms for the King.' ~Z 3E C v A WONDERFUL TRIO. BY JANE HOWARD. IN a little stone hut among the mountains lived Gredel and her son Peterkin, and this is how they lived : They kept about a dozen goats; and all they had to do was to watch them browse, milk them, and make the butter and cheese, which they partly ate and partly sold down in the village, or, rather, exchanged for bread. They were content with bread, butter, and cheese; and all they thought about was the goats. As for their clothes, it would be impossi- ble to speak of them with patience. They had no ambition, no hope, no thought beyond the day, and no sense of gratitude towards yesterday. So they lived, doing no harm, and effecting little good; care- less of the future, and not honestly proud of any- thing they had done in the past. But one day Gredel (who was the widow of a shepherd that had dropped over the edge of a cliff) sat slowly churning the previous day's milk, while Peterkin sat near her, doing nothing at all, thinking nothing at all, because head nothing to ponder over, and looking at nothing at all, for the goats were an everyday sight, and they took such capital care of themselves that Peterkin always stared away over their heads. Heigho suddenly exclaimed Gredel, stopping in her churning; and Peterkin dropped his stick, looked at his mother slowly, and obediently repeated, " Heigho " "The sun rises," said Gredel, "and the sun sets; the day comes, and the day goes ; and we were yes- terday, and we are to-day, and we shall be for some tomorrows ; and that is all, all, all." Said Peterkin, Mother, what is there in the world ? " "Men and women," repeated the wise parent; goats, and many other things." But is it the end of life to get up, watch goats, eat and drink, and fall asleep again ? Sometimes I wonder what is on the other side of the hill." Who can say what is the end of life ? asked slow-thoughted Gredel. "Are you not happy ?" Yes. But there is something more." "Do you not love me- your mother? " "Yes. But still I think think think." Love is enough," said Gredel, who had passed more than half way through life, and was content to rest. "Then it must be," said Peterkin, "that I want more than enough." "If so, you must be wicked," remarked Gredel; "for I am at peace in loving you, and you should be content in loving me. What more do you want? You have enough to eat--a warm bed in winter-- and your mother who loves you." Peterkin shook his head. "It will rain to-night," said Gredel ; and you will be warm while many will be shivering in the wet." Gredel was quite right; for when the sun had set, and the heavens were all of one dead, sad color, down came the rain, and the inside of the hut looked very warm and comfortable. Nevertheless, Peterkin still thought of the some- thing beyond the mountain,. and wondered what it might be. Had some wise one whispered in his ear, he must have learnt that it was healthy ambition, which helped the world and the worker at the same time. Soon it began to thunder, and Peterkin lazily opened the wooden shutters to look at the lightning. By this time Gredel, having thanked Providence for a large bowl of black bread steeped in hot goat's milk, was nodding and bobbing towards the flaming wood fire. Mother mother here comes something from this world !" And what comes from the world ? " Something like three aged women, older than you are a very great deal. Let me wait for another flash of lightening. Ha! The first has a big stick; the second has a great pair of round things on her A WONDERFUL TRIO. eyes ; and the third has a sack on her ba;c, bit it i; as flat as the palm of my hand, and car. h.ve rinol- ing in it." "Is there enough bread, and cheese, and n 11lI and salt in the house?- We must ci:r-i..l.r" Aye," answered Peterkin; "there is plenty of each and all." "Then let them come in, if they , will," said Gredel. "But they shall L knock at the door first, for we go not out on the highways and in the by- ways to help others. Let them come to us -good. But let us not go to them, for they have their business, and we have ours; and so the world goes round " "They are near the door," whis- pered Peterkin, "and very good old women they look." The next moment there was a very soft and civil tapping at the door. "Who goes there ?" asked Peterkin. "Three honest old women," cried a voice. "And what do three honest old women want?" called Gredel. "A bit of bread each," replied the voice, "a mug of milk each, and one corner for all three to sleep in until in the morning up comes the sweet yellow sun." "Lift up the latch," said Gredel. "Come in. There is bread, there is milk, and a corner laid with three /' sacks of thistle down. Come in, and welcome." Then up went the latch, and in stepped the three travellers. Gredel looked at them without moving; but when she saw they were pleasant in appearance that their eyes were keen in spite of their many wrinkles, and that their smiles were very fresh and pleasant notwithstanding the lines about their mouth, lazy but good-hearted Gredel got up and made a neat little bow of welcome. Are you sisters ?" she asked. "We are three sisters," answered the leader, she V r. r ::ni.: . commonly called Sister Pansy." "And I," added the third, who carried the bag, " am styled Sister Satchel." Your mother and father must have been a good- looking couple," said Gredel, smiling. "They were born handsome," quoth Trot, rearing her head proudly, and they grew handsomer." A WONDERFUL TRIO. How came they to grow handsomer?" asked Peterkin, who had been standing in a corner. "Because they were brisk and hurried about," replied Pansy, and never found the day too long. But pray, sir, who are you ?" I am Peterkin, son of Gredel." "And may I ask what you do ? inquired Trot. Watch the goats." And what do you do when you watch the goats ?" "Look about." "What do you see when you look about ?" asked Sister Pansy. "The sky, and the earth, and the goats." "Ah said Pansy, "it is very good to look at the sky, and truly wise to look at the earth, while it is clever to keep an eye on the goats ; but Peterkin - Peterkin you do not look far enough " "And when you look about," queried Sister Satchel, "what do you pick up?" "Nothing," said Peterkin. "Nothing! echoed the visitor. What! not even an idea?" "What is an idea ? asked Peterkin. "Oh, oh, oh said the three sisters. Here is Peterkin, who not only never picks up an idea, but actually does not know what one is " "This comes of not moving about," said Trot. "Of not looking about," said Pansy. "And of not picking up something every day," said Satchel. "And a worse example I, for one, never came across." "Nor I "Nor I echoed the other sisters. Whereupon they all looked at Peterkin, and seemed dreadfully serious. "Why, whatever have I done ? he demanded. "That's just it said the sisters. What have you done ?" "Nothing! exclaimed Peterkin, quite with the intention of justifying himself. Nothing at all !" Ah said Trot, that is the truth, indeed; what- ever else may be wrong done nothing at all !" "Nothing! "Nothing repeated Satchel and Pansy, in a breath. Dear me said Peterkin. Whereupon Gredel, half-frightened herself, and partly indignant that her boy should be lamented over in this uncalled-for manner, said, "Would you be pleased to take a seat?" Certainly said Trot. Still I, for one, would not think of such a thing until your stools were dusted." Gredel could not believe her eyes, for actually Trot raised one end of her stick and it became a brush, with which she dusted three stools. "I think, too," said Sister Pansy, looking out sharp through her spectacles, "that if we were to stop up that hole in the corner we should have less draught. As a rule, holes are bad things in a house." So off she went, and stopped up the hole'with a handful of dried grass she took from a corner. Bless me !" said Satchel; "here are four pins on the floor!" Whereupon she picked up the pins and popped them into her wallet. Meanwhile Gredel looked on, much astonished at these proceedings. "I may as well have a rout while I am about it," said Trot, beginning at once to sweep up. "Cobwebs in every corner!" cried Pansy; and away she went, looking after the walls. No wonder you could not find your wooden spoon," remarked Satchel; "why, here it is, most mysteriously up the chimney " There was such a dusting, sweeping, and general cleaning as the place had never seen before. "This is great fun! said Peterkin; "but how it makes you sneeze " "Here, dame Gredel," cried Satchel; "I have picked up all the things you must have lost for the last three years. Here is your thimble; and now you can take the bit of leather off your finger. Here are your scissors, which will cut cloth better than that knife; and here is the lost leg of the third stool -so that I can now sit down in safety." Why," exclaimed Peterkin, the place looks twice as large as it did, and ten times brighter. Mother, I am glad the ladies have come." "I am sure, ladies," said the good woman, "I shall never forget your visit." To tell the truth, however, there was something very ambiguous in Gredel's words. There said Trot; and now I can sit down in comfort to my bread and milk." And very good bread and milk, too," said Satchel. I think, sisters, we are quite fortunate to fall upon this goodly cot." "Yes," remarked Trot, they are not bad souls, A WONDERFUL TRIO. this Gredel and Peterkin; but, they sadly want mend- A good lad," remarked Pansy to Gredel, "but he ing. However, they have good hearts, and you know must look about him." that those who love much are forgiven much; and "Truly," said Satchel. "And, above all, he must indeed I would sooner eat my supper here than in pick up everything he comes *.vross, when he can do some palaces you and I, sisters, know something so without robbing a neighbor, and he may steal all about." his neighbor knows, without depriving the gentle- Quite true !" assented the others, "quite true I" man of anything." And so they went on talking as though they had Then Peterkin, feeling as light as a feather, started been in their own house and no one ,ut themselves off down the hillside, the three old sisters chatting, in the room. Gredel listened w.;: astonishment, and whispering, and chuckling in a very wonderful man- Peterkin with all his ears. .oo delighted even to be ner. So, when they were quite in the valley, Peter- astonished. kin said, Please you, I will leave you now, ladies; "Now this," thought 'e, "' homes of their knowing and many thanks for your coming." Then he very something of what goes cni beyond the Great Hill as civilly touched his tattered cap, and was turning on far away as I can see." his battered heels, when Sister Trot said, "Stop!" "Time for bed," suddenly said Dame Trot, who and he turned. evidently was the leader, "if we are to see the sun Peterkin," she said, "thou art worth loving and rise." thinking about, and for your kindness to us wander- The sisters then made themselves quite comfort- ers we must ask you to keep something in remem- able, and tucked up their thistle-down beds and brance of our visit. Here, take my wonderful stick home-spun sheets with perfect good humor, and believe in it. You know me as Trot, but grown- up men call me the Fairy Work-o'-Day." Peterkin Peterkin awoke cheerily, and he was dressed even made his obeisance, and took the stick. before the sun appeared. He made the fire, set the "I will never lose it! said he. table, gave the place a cheerful air, and then opened "You never will," said Trot, "after once you know the door to look after the goats, wondering why he how to use it." felt so light and happy. He was soon joined by the "Well," said sister Pansy, I am not to be beaten three sisters, who made a great to-do with some cold by my sister, and so here are my spectacles." water and their washing. I shall look very funny in them," said Peterkin, "Is it good to put your head souse in a pail?" eyeing them doubtfully. asked Peterkin. "Nay; nobody will see them on your nose as you Try it," replied Dame Trot. mark them on mine. The world will observe their So by this time, quite trusting the old women, he wisdom in your eyes, but the wires will be invisible. did so, and found his breath gone in a moment. By-the-by, sister Pansy is only my home-name; men However, he enjoyed breathing all the more when he call me Fairy See-far; and so be good." found his head once more out of the pail, and after "As for me," said the third sister, "I am but the Pansy had rubbed him dry with a rough towel, younger of the family. I could not be in existence which she took out of Satchel's wallet, he thought he had not my sisters been born into the world. I am had never experienced such a delightful feeling as going to give you my sack; but take heed, it were then took possession of him. Even since the previ- better that you had no sack at all than that you should ous night he felt quite a new being, and alas! he fill it too full; than that you should fling into it all found himself forgetting Gredel-his mother Gredel, that you see; than that you should pass by on the who loved him and taught him only to live for to-day. other side when, your sack being full, another human And shall I show you down the hill-side ? asked being, fallen amongst thieves, lies bleeding and want- Peterkin, when the three sisters had taken their por- ing help! And now know that, though I am some- ridge and were sprucing themselves for departure. times called Satchel, my name amongst the good "Yes," said dame Trot, "and glad am I thou hast people is the Fairy Save-some." saved us the trouble of asking thee." Good by," suddenly said the three sisters. They A WONDERFUL TRIO. smiled, and instantly they were gone--just like Three Thoughts. So he turned his face towards home, with sorrow in his heart as he thought of the three sisters, while hope was mixed with the sadness as he glanced towards the far-off mountain which was called Mons Futura. Now, Peterkin had never cared to climb hiilsides, and, therefore he rarely went down them if he could help it, always lazily stopping at the top. But now the wonderful stick, as he pressed it upon the ground, seemed to give him a light heart, and a lighter pair of heels, and he danced up the hillside just as though he were holiday-making, soon reaching home. "See, mother," said Peterkin, "the good women have given me each a present- the one her stick, the second her glasses, and the third her wallet." "Ho !" said Gredel. "Well, I am not sorry they" are gone, for I am afraid they would soon have made you despise your mother. They are very pleasant old people no doubt, but rude and certainly ill-bred, or they would not have put my house to rights." "But it looked all the better for it." "It looked very well as it was." "But the world goes on and on," said Peterkin. Gredel shook her head. Humph she said, a stick, an old pair of spectacles, and a sack not worth a dime When people give gifts, let them be gifts and not cast-offs." "Anyhow," said Peterkin, "I can tell you that the stick is a good stick, and helps you over the hill famously. I will keep it, and you may have the sack and the spectacles." "Let us try your spectacles," cried Gredel. Oh /" ,he said, trying them on carelessly. "These are the most wonderful spectacles in the world," she went on; "but no more civil than those three old women." What do you mean, mother? " "I see you, Peterkin -and a very sad sight, too. Why, you are lazy, careless, unwashed, and stupid ; and a more deplorable object was never seen by hon- est woman." Poor Peterkin blushed very much ; but'at this point, his mother taking off the glasses, he seized and placed them before his own eyes. Oh!" he exclaimed. What now ?" asked Gredel in some alarm. "Now I see you as you are and a very bad example are you to set before your own son Why, you are careless, and love me not for myself but your- self, or you would do your best for me, and send me out in the world." What ? and dare you talk to your mother in such fashion? Give me the spectacles once more!" and she clapped them on again. "Bless me she con- tinued, the boy is quite right, and I see I am selfish, and that I am making him selfish a very pretty business, indeed! This is to be thought over," she said, laying aside the spectacles. By this time Peterkin had possessed himself of the stick, and then, to his amazement, he found it had taken the shape of a spade. "Well," said he, as here is a spade I think I will turn over the potato-patch." This he did; and com- ing in to breakfast he was admonished to find how fine the milk tasted. "Mother," said he, "here is a penny I have found in the field." "Put it in the bag," said Gredel. He did so, and immediately there was a chink. Over he turned the sack, and lo! there were ten pennies sprinkled on the table. "Ho, ho said Peterkin, "if, now, the bag increases money after such a pleasant manner, I have but to take out one coin and cast it in again, and soon I shall have a fortune." He did so; but he heard no chinking. He inverted the bag again, and out fell the one coin he had picked up while digging the potato-patch. "This, now, is very singular," he said; "let me put on the spectacles." This done, Ha !" he cried, " I see now how it is. The money will never grow in the sack, unless one works hard; and then it increases whether one will or not." Meanwhile Gredel, taking up the stick, it took the shape of a broom, and upon the hint she swept the floor. Next, sitting down before Peterkin's clothes, the stick became a needle, and she stitched away with a will. So time rolled on. The cottage flourished, and the garden was beautiful. Then a cow was brought home, and it was wonderful how often fresh money changed in the wallet. Gredel had grown handsomer, and so also had Peterkin. But one day it came to pass that Peterkin said: Mother, it is time I went over the great hill." "What! canst thou leave me ?" "Thou didst leave thy father and mother." Gredel was wiser than she had been, and so she A WONDERFUL TRIO. quietly said : "Let us put on the spectacles. Ah 1 I see," she then said, a mother may love her son, but she must not stand in his way as he goes on in the world, or she becomes his enemy." Then Peterkin put on the spectacles. "Ah! I see," said he, a son may love his mother, but his love must not interfere with his duty to other men. The glasses say that every man should try and leave the world something the better for his coming; that many fail and but few succeed, yet that all must strive." "So be it," said Gredel. Go forth into the world, my son, and leave me hopeful here alone." "The glasses say that the sense of duty done is the greatest happiness in the world," said Peterkin. Then Gredel looked again through the glasses. I see," said she; "the glasses say it is better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all. Go forth into the world, my son: we shall both be the happier for having done our duty." So out into the world went Peterkin. What else is there to tell? Why, who can write of to-morrow ? By the way, you should know that amongst the very wise folk sister Trot is known as Industry," sister Pansy as "Foresight," while honest Satchel is generally called Economy." - -- --- Oti LLi __ ___ IbJ "%__ i Q;lr ~ )KL ~PL;I.1L TWO FORTUNE-SEEKERS. BY ROSSITER JOHNSON. ONE afternoon I went over to see Fred Bar- nard, and found him sitting on the back steps, apparently meditating. What are you doing?" said I. Waiting for that handkerchief to dry," said he, pointing to a red one with round white spots, which hung on the clothes-line. "And what are you going to do when it's dry?" said I. Tie up my things in it," said he. Things! What things ? " 0, such things as a fellow needs when he's trav- eling. I'm going to seek my fortune." Where are you going to seek it ? said I. "I can't tell exactly- anywhere and everywhere. I'm going till I find it." "But," said I, "do you really expect to turn over a stone, or pull up a bush, or get to the end of a rainbow, and find a crock full of five-dollar gold pieces ?" O, no !" said Fred. Such things are gone by long ago. You can't do that nowadays, if you ever could. But people do get rich nowadays, and there must be some way to do it." Don't they get rich mostly by staying at home, and minding their business," said I, "instead of going off tramping about the world ? " Maybe some of them do," said Fred; "but my father has always staid at home, and minded his busi- ness, and he hasn't got rich; and I don't believe he ever will. But there's uncle Silas, he's always on the go, so you never know where to direct a letter to him; and he has lots of money. Sometimes mother tells him he ought to settle down; but he always says, if he did he's afraid he wouldn't be able to settle up by and by." I thought of my own father, and my mother's brother. They both staid at home and minded their own business, yet neither of them was rich. This seemed to confirm Fred's theory, and I was inclined to think he was more than half right. I don't know but I'd like to go with you," said I. I don't want you to," said Fred. Why," said I, in astonishment; "are we not good friends ? " 0, yes, good friends as ever," said Fred; "but you're not very likely to find two fortunes close to- gether ; and I think it's better for every one to go alone." Then why couldn't I start at the same time you do, and go a different way ? " That would do," said Fred. I'm going to start to-morrow morning." And he walked to the line, and felt of the handkerchief. TWO FORTUNE-SEEKERS. I can take mother's traveling-bag," said I. "That will be handier to carry than a bundle tied up." "Take it if you like," said Fred; "but I believe there's luck in an old-fashioned handkerchief. In all the pictures of boys going to seek their fortunes, they have their things tied up in a handkerchief, and a stick put through it and over their shoulder." I did not sympathize much with Fred's belief in luck, though I thought it was possible there might be something in it; but the bundle in the handker- chief seemed to savor a little more of romance, and I determined that I would conform to the ancient style. Does your father know about it ? said I. Yes; and he says I may go." Just then Fred's father drove around from the barn. I'm going away," said he to Fred, "to be gone several days. So, if you go in the morning, I shall not see you again until you return from your travels." And he laughed a little. "Well, I'm certainly going to-morrow morning," said Fred, in answer to the "if." "You ought to have a little money with you," said Mr. Barnard, taking out his wallet. No, sir, I thank you," said Fred; "but I'd rather not have it." His father looked surprised. I think it's luckier to start without it," said Fred, in explanation. Very well! Luck go with you !" said Mr. Bar- nard, as he drove off. Do you think it best to go without any money at all ? said I. It seems to me it would be better to have a little." "No," said Fred; "a fellow ought to depend on himself, and trust to luck. It wouldn't be any fun at all to stop at taverns and pay for meals and lodging, just like ordinary travelers. And then, if people saw I had money to pay for things, they wouldn't believe I was going to seek my fortune." Why, do we want them to know that ?" said I. Ido," said he. "That isn't the way the boys in the stories do," said I. And that's just where they missed it," said Fred "or would, if they lived nowadays. Don't you see that everybody that wants anything lets everybody know it ? When I'm on my travels, I'm going to tell every one what I'm after. That's the way to find out where to go and what to do." Won't some of them fool you," said I, "and tell you lies, and send you on the wrong road ? " "A fellow's got to look out for that," said Fred, knowingly. "We needn't believe all they say." What must we take in our bundles ? said I. I'm going to take some cookies, and a Bible, and a tin cup, and a ball of string, and a pint of salt," said Fred. "What's the salt for ?" said I. "We may have to camp out some nights," said Fred, and live on what we can find. There are lots of things you can find in the woods and fields to live on ; but some of them ain't good without salt - mushrooms, for instance." Fred was very fond of mushrooms. And is the string to tie up the bags of money ? " said I not meaning to be at all sarcastic. 0, no said Fred ; "but string's always handy to. have. We may want to set snares for game, or tie up. things that break, or catch fish. And then if you have to stay all night in a house where the people look suspicious, you can fix a string so that if any one opens the door of your room, it'll wake you up." If that happened, you'd want a pistol -wouldn't you ?" said I. "Or else it wouldn't do much good to be waked up." I'd take a pistol, if I had one," said Fred ; "but I can get along without it. You can always hit 'emr over the head with a chair, or a pitcher, or something. You know you can swing a pitcher full of water around quick, and not spill a drop; and if you should hit a man a fair blow with it, wouldd knock him senseless. Besides, it's dangerous using a pistol in a house. Sometimes the bullets go through the wall, and kill innocent persons." We don't want to do that," said I. No," said Fred ; "that would be awful unlucky." Then he felt of the handkerchief again, said he guessed it was dry enough, and took it off from the line. Fred," said I, "how much is a fortune ?" That depends on your ideas," said Fred, as he smoothed the handkerchief over his knee. "I should not be satisfied with less than a hundred thousand dollars." TWO FORTUNE-SEEKERS. I ought to be going home to get ready," said I. "What time do we start ? " Five o'clock exactly," said Fred. So we agreed to meet at the horse-block, in front of the house, a minute or two before five the next morning, and start simultaneously on the search for fortune. I went home, and asked mother if there was a red handkerchief, with round white spots on it, in the house. I think there is," said she. "What do you want with it ?" I told her all about our plan, just as Fred and I had arranged it. She smiled, said she hoped we would be successful, and went to get the handkerchief. It proved to be just like Fred's, except that the spots were yellow, and had little red dots in the mid- dle. I thought that would do, and then asked her for the salt, the cup, and the cookies. She gave me her pint measure full of salt, and as she had no cookies in the house, she substituted four sandwiches. But," said I, "won't you want to use this cup before I get back?" I think not," said she, with a twinkle in her eye, which puzzled me then, but which afterward I under- stood. I got my little Bible, and some twine, and then went into the yard to hunt up a stick to carry the bundle on. I found a slender spoke from an old carriage- wheel, and adopted it at once. "That," said I to myself, as I handled and "hefted it, would be just the thing to hit a burglar over the head with." I fixed the bundle all ready for a start, and went to bed in good season. Mother rose early, got me a nice breakfast, and called me at half past four. "Mother," said I, as feelings of gratitude rose within me at the excellence of the meal, how does a camel's-hair shawl look ? " I don't know, my son," said she. I never saw one." Never saw one said I. "Well, you shall sce one, a big one, if I find my fortune." Thank you," said mother, and smiled again that peculiar smile. Fred and I met promptly at the horse-block. He greatly admired my stick ; his was an old hoe-handie, sawed short. I gave him two of my sandwiches for half of his cookies, and we tied up the bundles snugly,. and slung them over our shoulders. How long do you think it will take us ? said I. Maybe three or four years maybe more," said he. Let us agree to meet again on this spot five years. from to-day," said I. All right! said Fred; and he took out a bit of lead pencil, and wrote the date on the side of the block. The rains and snows will wash that off before the five years are up," said I. Never mind we can remember," said Fred. "And now," he continued, as he shook hands with me, "don't look back. I'm not going to; it isn't lucky, and it'll make us want to be home again. Good-bye " "Good-bye Remember, five years," said I. He took the east road, I the west, and neither looked back. I think I must have walked about four miles with- out seeing any human being. Then I fell in with a boy, who was driving three cows to pasture, and we scraped acquaintance. Where y' goin' ? said he, eyeing my bundle. A long journey," said I. Chiny ? said he. Maybe so -maybe not," said I. What y' got 't sell ? said he. "Nothing," said I; "I'm only a traveler not a peddler. Can you tell me whose house that is ?" That big white one ? said he; that's Hath- away's." It looks new," said I. Yes, 'tis, spick an' span," said he. Hathaway's jest moved into it; used to live in that little brown one over there." Mr. Hathaway must be rich," said I. Jolly I guess he is wish I was half as rich," said the boy. Made 's money on the rise of prop'ty. Used to own all this land round here, when 'twas a howlin' wilderness. I've heard dad say so lots o' times. There he is now." Who ? -your father ? said I. No ; Hathaway." And the boy pointed to a very old, white-headed man, who was leaning on a cane, and looking up at the cornice of the house. He looks old," said I. He is, awful old," said the boy. "'Can't live TWO FORTUNE-SEEKERS. much longer. His daughter Nancy '11 take the hull. Ain't no other relations." How old is Nancy ? said I; and if I had been a few years older myself, the question might have been significant; but among all the methods I had thought over of acquiring a fortune, that of marrying one was not included. "0, she's gray-headed too," said the boy, "'n deafer 'n a post, 'nd blind 's a bat. I wish the old man couldn't swaller a mouthful o' breakfast till he'd give me ,alf what he's got." And with this charitable expression he tmarLer with the cows into the lane, and I saw him no more. While I was meditating on the venerable but not venerated Mr. Hathaway and his property, a wagon came rumblin; along behind me. : Do:'t you want to ride ? said the driver, as I stepped aside to let it pass. I thanked him, and climbed to a place beside him -on the rough seat. He was in his shirt-sleeves, and wore a torn straw hat. He had reddish side-whiskers, and has chin needed shaving, badly. Got far to go ?" said he, as the team started up ,again. I expect to walk all day," said I. Then you must get a lift when you can," said he. "' Don't be afraid to ask. A good many that wouldn't invite you, as I did, would let you ride if you asked them." I promised to remember his advice. Ever drive a team ? said he. Not much," said I. I want a good boy to drive team," said he. Sup- pose you could learn." And then he began to talk to the horses, and to whistle. How much would you pay? said I. I'd give a good smart boy ten dollars a month and board," said he. Git ap, Doc " How much of that could he save? said I. Save eight dollars a month easy enough, if he's careful of his clothes, and don't want to go to every circus that comes along," said he. I made a mental calculation : Eight times twelve are ninety-six-into a hundred thousand -one thou- sand and forty-one years, and some months. 0, yes ! interest-well, nearly a thousand years." Then I said aloud, "I guess I won't hire; don't believe I'd anake a very good teamster." "I think you would ; and it's good wages," said he. Nobody but Methuselah could get rich at it," said I. "Rich?" said he. "Of course you couldn't get rich teaming. If that's what you're after, I'll tell you what you do: plant a forest. Timber's good property. The price of it's more than doubled in ten years past, and it '11 be higher yet. You plant a tree, and it '11 grow while you sleep. Chess won't choke it, and the weevil can't eat it. "You don't have to hoe it, nor mow it, nor pick it, nor rotate it, nor feed it, nor churn it, nor nothing. That's the beauty of it. And you plant a forest of trees, and in time it '1 make you a rich man." How much time ?" said I. "Well, that piece of timber you see over there,- that's Eph Martin's; he's going to cut it next season. The biggest trees must be-well, perhaps eighty years old. You reckon up the interest on the cost of the land, and you'll see it's a good investment. I wish I had such a piece." Why don't you plant one ?" said I, O, I'm too old My grandfather ought to have done it for me. Whoa! Doc. Whoa! Tim." He drew up at a large, red barn, where a man and a boy were grinding a scythe. I jumped down, and trudged on. After I had gone a mile or two, I began to feel hungry, and sat done on a stone, under a great oak tree, to eat a sandwich. Before I knew it I had eaten two, and then I was thirsty. There was a well in a door-yard close by, and I went to it. The bucket was too heavy for me to lift, and so I turned the salt out of my cup in a little pile on a clean-looking corner of the well-curb, and drank. The woman of the house came to the door, and took a good look at me; then she asked if I would not rather have a drink of milk. I said I would, and she brought a large bowlful, which I sat down on the door-step to enjoy. Presently a sun-browned, barefooted boy, wearing a new chip hat, and having his trousers slung by a single suspender, came around the corner of the house, and stopped before me. Got any Shanghais at your house ? said he. No !" Any Cochins? " No " TWO FORTUNE-SEEKERS. Any Malays? " No !" "What have you got ?" "About twenty common hens," said I, perceiving that his thoughts were running on fancy breeds of fowls. Don't want to buy a nice pair of Shanghais -do you?" said he. I couldn't take them to-day," said I. Let's go look at them," said he; and I followed him toward the barn. This is my hennery," said he, with evident pride, as we came to a small yard which was inclosed with a fence made of long, narrow strips of board, set up endwise, and nailed to a slight railing. Inside was a low shed, with half a dozen small entrances near the ground. "Me and Jake built this," said he. "Jake's my brother." He unbuckled a strap-that fastened the gate, and we went inside. A few fowls, of breeds unfamiliar to me, were scratching about the yard. Don't you call them nice hens ? said he. "I guess they are," said I; "but I don't know much about hens." Don't you ? said he. "' Then I'll tell you some- thing about them. There's money in hens. Father says so, and I know it's so. I made fifty-one dollars and thirteen cents on these last year. I wish I had a million." "A million dollars," said I, "is a good deal of money. I should be satisfied with one tenth of that." I meant a million hens," said he. "I'd rather have a million hens than a million dollars." I went through a mental calculation similar to the one I had indulged in while riding with the teamster : "Fifty-one, thirteen almost two thousand years. Great Caesar! Yes, Great Caesar sure enough! I ought to have begun keeping hens about the time Cassius was egging on the conspirators to lay out that gentleman. But I forgot the interest again. Call it fifteen hundred." Let's go in and look at the nests," said the boy, opening the door of the shed. The nests were in a row of boxes nailed to the wall. He took out some of the eggs, and showed them to me. Several had pencil-writing on the shell, intended to denote the breed. I remember Gaim, Schanghy, and Cotching. "There's a pair of Shanghais," said he as he went out, pointing with one hand while he tightened the gate-strap with the other, "that I'll sell you for five dollars. Or I'll sell you half a dozen eggs for six dollars." I told him I couldn't trade that day, but would cer- tainly come and see him when I wanted to buy any- fancy hens. If you see anybody," said he, as we parted, "that wants a nice pair of Shanghais reasonable, you tell 'em where I live." I will," said I, and pushed on. Money in hens, eh ?" said I to myself. "Then.. if they belonged to me, I'd kill them, and get it out of them at once, notwithstanding the proverb about. the goose." After some further journeying I came to a roadside tavern. A large, square sign, with a faded picture of a horse, and the words SCHUYLER'S HOTEL, faintly legible, hung from an arm that extended over the road. from a high post by the pump. I sat down on the steps, below a group of men who. were tilted back in chairs on the piazza. One, who. wore a red shirt, and chewed a very large quid of tobacco, was just saying, - Take it by and through, a man can make wages, at the mines, and that's all he can make." Unless he strikes a big nugget," said a little man with one eye. He might be there a hundred years, and not do that," said Red Shirt. I never struck one." And again he might strike it the very first day," said One Eye. Again he might," said Red Shirt; "but I'd rather take my chances keeping tavern. Look at Schuyler, now. He'll die a rich man." The one who seemed to be Schuyler was well worth looking at. I had never seen so much man packed into so much chair; and it was an exact fit--just enough chair for the man, just enough man for the chair. Schuyler's boundary from his chin to his toe was nearly, if not exactly, a straight line. Die rich ? said One Eye. He's a livin' rich ; he's rich to-day." If any of you gentlemen want to make your for- tune keeping a hotel," said Schuyler, I'll sell onr easy terms." How much, 'squire ? said Red Shirt. TWO FORTUNE-SEEKERS. " O H ET E OAD, I THE NVLST, AND N.lTHER LOOKiD BACK. -See page 61. Fifteen," answered Schuyler. Fifteen thousand-furniture and all ? said One -Eye. Everything," said Schuyler. Your gran'f'ther bought the place for fifteen hun- dred," said One Eye. But money was wuth more then." While listening to this conversation, I had taken out my cookies, and I was eating the last of them, when One Eye made his last recorded remark. Won't you come in, sonny, and stay over night ? " said Schuyler. Thank you, sir," said I ; "but I can't stop." "Then don't be mussing up my clean steps," said he. I looked at him to see if he was in earnest for I was too hungry to let a single crum fall, and could not conceive what should make a muss. The whole 'company were staring at me most uncomfortably. Without saying another word, I picked up my stick and bundle, and walked off. Thirteen thousand five hundred," said I to myself, slowly, in three generations four thousand five hundred to a generation. I ought to have come over with Christopher Columbus, and set up a tavern for the red-skins to lounge around. Then maybe if I never let any little Indian boys eat their lunches on the steps, I'd be a rich man now. Fifteen thou- sand dollars-and so mean, so abominably mean- and such a crowd of loafers for company. No, I wouldn't keep tavern if I could get rich in one gen- eration." At the close of this soliloquy, I found I had in- stinctively turned towards home when I left Schuyler's Hotel. "It's just as well," said I, "just as well! I'd rather stay at home and mind my business, like father, and not have any fortune, if that's the way people get them nowadays." I had the good luck to fall in with my friend the teamster, who gave me a longer lift than before, and sounded me once more on the subject of hiring out to drive team for him. As I passed over the crest of the last hill in the road, I saw something in the distance that looked very much like another boy with a bundle over his shoulder. I waved my hat. It waved its hat. We met at the horse-block, each carrying a broad grin the last few rods of the way. TWO FORTUNE-SEEKERS. "Let's see your fortune," said I, as I laid my bundle on the block. "Let's see yours," said he, as he laid his beside it. "You started the plan," said I; so you tell your adventures first." Thereupon Fred told his story, which I give nearly in his own words.. He traveled a long distance before he met with any incident. Then he came to a house that had several windows boarded up, and looked as if it might not be inhabited. While Fred stood looking at it, and wondering about it, he saw a shovelful of earth come out of one of the cellar windows. It was fol- lowed in a few seconds by another, and another, at regular intervals. I know how it is," said Fred. Some old miser has lived and died in that house. He used to bury his money in the cellar; and now somebody's digging for it. I mean to see if I can't help him." Going to the window, he stooped down and looked in. At first he saw nothing but the gleam of a new shovel. But when he had looked longer he discerned the form of the man who wielded it. Hello said Fred, as the digger approached the window to throw out a shovelful. Hello Who are you ? said the man. I'm a boy going to seek my fortune," said Fred. " What are you digging for ? " Digging for a fortune," said the man, taking up another shovelful. May I help you ? said Fred. Yes, if you like." "And have half ? " "Have all you find," said the man, forcing down his shovel with his foot. Fred ran around to the cellar door, laid down his bundle on the grass beside it, and entered. The man pointed to an old shovel with a large corner broken off, and Fred picked it up and went to work. Nearly half of the cellar bottom had been lowered about a foot by digging, and the man was lowering the remainder. With Fred's help, after about two hours of hard work, it was all cut down to the lower level. Fred had kept his eyes open, and scrutinized every shovelful; but nothing like a coin had gladdened his sight. Once he thought he had one, and ran to the light with it. But it proved to be only the iron ear broken off from some old bucket. I guess that'll do," said the man, wiping his brow, when the leveling was completed. Do ? said Fred, in astonishment. Why, we haven't found any of the money yet." "What money ? " "The money the old miser buried, of course." The man laughed heartily. "I wasn't digging for any miser's money," said he. "You said so," said Fred. "0, no! said the man. I said I was digging for a fortune. Come and sit down, and I'll tell you all about it." They took seats on the highest of the cellar steps that led out of doors. You see," continued the man, my wife went down cellar one day, and struck her forehead against one of those beams ; and she died of it. If she had lived a week longer, she'd have inherited a very pretty property. So I've lowered the cellar floor; and if I should have another wife, her head couldn't reach the beams, unless she was very tall -taller than I am. So if she inherits a fortune, the cellar won't prevent us getting it. That's the fortune I was digging for." "It's a mean trick to play on a boy; and if I was a man, I'd lick you," said Fred, as he shouldered his bundle and walked away. Two or three miles farther down the road he came to a small blacksmith shop. The smith, a stout, mid- dle-aged man, was sitting astride of a small bench with long legs, making horseshoe nails on a little anvil that rose from one end of it. Fred went in, and asked if he might sit there a while to rest. "Certainly," said the blacksmith, as he threw a finished nail into an open drawer under the bench. "How far have you come ? " I can't tell," said Fred ; "it must be as much as ten miles." "Got far to go ?" I don't know how far. I'm going to seek my for- tune." The smith let his hammer rest on the anvil, and took a good look at Fred. "You seem to be in earnest," said he. "I am," said Fred. Don't you know that gold dollars don't go rolling TWO FORTUNE-SEEKERS. up hill in these days, for boys to chase them, and we haven't any fairies in this country, dancing by moon- light over buried treasure ? said the smith. 0, yes, I know that," said Fred. "But people get rich in these days as much as ever they did. And I want to find out the best way to do it." "What is that nail made of ? said the smith, hold- ing out one. Iron," said Fred, wondering what that had to do with a boy seeking his fortune. "And that hammer ?" "Iron." "And that anvil?" Iron." Well, don't you see," said the smith, resting his hammer on the anvil, and leaning over it toward Fred, don't you see that everything depends on iron ? A farmer can't cultivate the ground until he has a plow; and that plow is made of iron. A butcher can't cut up a critter until he has a knife; and that knife is made of iron. A tailor can't make a garment without a needle; and that needle is made of iron. You can't build a ship without iron, nor start a mill, nor arm a regiment. The stone age, and the brass age, and the golden age are all gone by. This is the iron age; and iron is the basis of all wealth. The richest man is the man that has the most iron. Railroads are made of iron, and the rich- est men are those that own railroads." "How can one man own a railroad?" said Fred, amazed at the vastness of such wealth. Wel1, he can't exactly, unless he steals it," said the smith. I should like to own a railroad," said Fred ; and he -:... i,_.: what fun he might have, as well as profit, being conductor on his own train; but I didn't come to steal; I want to find a fortune honestly." Then look for it in iron," said the smith. Iron in some form always paves the road to prosperity." "Would blacksmithing be a good way?" said Fred. Now you've hit it," said the smith. "I haven't got rich myself, and probably never shall. But I didn't take the right course. I was a sailor when I was young, and spent half my life wandering around the world, before I settled down and turned black- smith. I dare say if I had learned the trade early enough, and had gone and set up a shop in some large place, or some rising place, and hadn't always been so low in my charges, I might be a rich man." Fred thought the blacksmith must be a very enter- taining and learned man, whom it would be pleasant as well as profitable to work with. So, after thinking it over a few minutes, he said, - Do you want to hire a boy to learn the business ? " I'll give you a chance," said the smith, "and see what you can do." Then he went outside and drew in a wagon, which was complete except part of the iron-work, and started up his fire, and thrust in some: small bars of iron. Fred laid aside his bundle, threw off his jacket, and announced that he was ready for work. The smith set him to blowing the bellows, and afterward gave him a light sledge, and showed him how to strike the red-hot bar on the anvil, alternating with the blows of the smith's own hammer. At first it was very interesting to feel the soft iron give at every blow, and see the sparks fly, and the bars, and rods taking the well-known shapes of carriage-irons. But either the smith had reached the end of his polit- ical economy, or else he was too much in earnest about his work to deliver orations; his talk now was of saggingg" and "upsetting," and countersink- ing," and taps," and dies "- all of which terms he taught Fred the use of. Fred was quick enough to learn, but had never been fond of work; and this was work that made the sweat roll down his whole body. After an hour or two, he gave it up. I think I'll look further for my fortune," said he;: this is too hard work." "All right," said the smith; "but maybe you'll fare worse. You've earned a little something, any- way ;" and he drew aside his leather apron, thrust his hand into his pocket, and brought out seven cents; which Fred accepted with thanks, and resumed his journey. His next encounter was with a farmer, who sat in the grassy corner of a field, under the shade of a maple tree, eating his dinner. This reminded Fred that it was noon, and that he was hungry. How d'e do, mister ? said Fred, looking through the rail-fence. I should like to come over and take dinner with you." You'll have to furnish your own victuals," said the farmer. TWO FORTUNE-SEEKERS. That I can do," said Fred, and climbed over the fence, and sat down by his new acquaintance. Where you bound for ?" said the farmer, as Fred opened his bundle, and took out a sandwich. Going to seek my fortune," said Fred. You don't look like a runaway 'prentice," said the farmer; "but that's a curious answer to a civil question." It's true," said Fred. "I am going to seek my fortune." Where do you expect to find it ? " I can't tell I suppose I must hunt for it." Well, I can tell you where to look for it, if you're in earnest; and 'tain't so very far off, either," said the farmer, as he raised the jug of milk to his mouth. Fred indicated by his attitude that he was all-atten- tion, while the farmer took a long drink. In the ground," said he, as he sat down the jug with one hand, and brushed the other across his mouth. "There's no wealth but what comes out of the ground in some way. All the trees and plants, all the grains, and grasses, and garden-sass, all the brick and stone, all the metals--iron, gold, silver, copper-everything comes out of the ground. That's where man himself came from, according to the Bible: 'Dust thou art, and unto dust shalt thou return.' And the first primary foundation of it all is agri- culture. Hewson, the blacksmith, pretends to say it's iron; and he maintained that side in the debat- ing club at the last meeting. But I maintained it was agriculture, and I maintain so still. Says I, 'Mr. President, what's your tailor, and your sailor, and your ship-builder, and your soldier, and your black- smith going to do without something to eat ? [Here the farmer made a vigorous gesture by bringing down his fist upon his knee.] They can't eat needles, nor spikes, nor guns, nor anvils. The farmer's got to feed 'em, every one on 'em. And they've got to have a good breakfast before they can do a good day's work, and a dinner in the middle of it, and a supper at the end of it. Can't plow without iron ?' says I. 'Why, Mr. President, in Syria and there- abouts they plow with a crooked limb of a tree to this day. The gentleman can see a picture of it in Barnes's Notes, if he has access to that valuable work.' And says I, 'Mr. President, who was first in the order of time Adam the farmer, or Tubal Cain the blacksmith ? No, sir ; Adam was the precursor of Tubal Cain; Adam had to be created before Tubal Cain could exist. First the farmer, and then the blacksmith ;- that, Mr. President, is the divine order in the great procession of creation.' " Here the farmer stopped, and cut a piece of meat with his pocket-knife. "Boy," he continued, "if you want a fortune, you must dig it out of the ground. You won't find one anywhere else." Fred thought of his recent unpleasant experience in digging for a fortune, and asked, Isn't digging generally pretty hard work." "Yes," said the farmer, as he took up his hoe, and rose to his feet ; "it is hard work ; but it's a great: deal more respectable than wandering around like a vagrant, picking up old horse-shoes, and hollering 'Money !' at falling stars." Fred thought the man was somehow getting per-- sonal. So he took his bundle, climbed the fence, and' said good-bye to him. He walked on until he came to a fork of the road, and there he stopped, considering which road he would take. He could find no sign-board of any sort, and was about to toss one of his pennies to determine the question, when he saw a white steeple at some dis- tance down the right hand road. It's always good luck to pass a church," said he, and took that road. When he reached the church, he sat down on the steps to rest. While he sat there, thinking over all he had seen and heard that day, a gentleman wearing a black coat, a high hat, and a white cravat, came through the gate of a little house almost buried in vines and bushes, that stood next to the church. He saw Fred, and approached him, saying, - Whither away, my little pilgrim ? " I am going to seek my fortune," said Fred. Haven't you a home ?" Yes, sir." Parents ?" Yes, sir." Are they good to you ?" 0, yes, sir." Then you are fortunate already," said the gentle- man. "When I was at your age, I had neither home nor parents, and the people where I lived were very unkind." "But my father isn't rich," said Fred; "and he never will be." TWO FORTUNE-SEEKERS. "And you want to be rich ?" said the gentleman. Yes, sir. I thought I'd try to be," said Fred. What for ? " 'What for? Why why so as to have the money." And what would you do with the money, if you had it?" I'd- I'd use it," said Fred, beginning to feel that he had come to debating school without sufficiently understanding the question. "Do you see that pile of large stones near my barn ?" said the gentleman. "I'll give you those, and lend you a wheelbarrow to get them home." I thank you," said Fred ; "but I don't want them. They're of no use." 0, yes, they are You can build a house with them," said the gentleman. But I'm not ready to build a house," said Fred. "I haven't any land to build it on, nor any other materials, nor anything to put into it; and I'm not old enough to be married and keep house." Very true, my son and if you had a cart-load of money now, it wouldn't be of any more value to you than a cart-load of those building stones. But, after you have been to school a few years longer, and trained yourself to some business, and made a man of yourself, and developed your character, then you will have tastes, and capacities, and duties that require money; and if you get it as you go along, and always have enough to satisfy them, and none in excess to encumber you, that will be the happiest fortune you can find." Fred took a few minutes to think of it. Then he said, - I believe you have told me the truth, and set me on the right track. I will go home again, and try to make a man of myself first, and a rich man afterward." Before you start, perhaps you would like to come into my house and get rested, and look at some pictures." Fred accepted the invitation. The lady of the house gave him a delicious lunch, and he spent an hour in the clergyman's study, looking over two or three portfolios of prints and drawings, which they explained to him. Then he bade them good-bye, shouldered his bundle, and started for home, having the good fortune to catch a long ride, and arriving just as I did. What I've learned," said he, as he finished his story, is, that you can get rich if you don't care for anything else; but you've either got to work yourself to death for it, or else cheat somebody. You can get it out of the ground by working, or you can get it out of men by cheating. But who wants to do either ? I don't. And I believe it isn't much use being rich, any wa6y." Then I told Fred my adventures. "And what I've learned," said I, "is, that you can get rich without much trouble, if you're willing to wait all your life for forests to grow and property to rise. But what's the use of money to an old man or an old woman that's blind and deaf, and just ready to die ? Or what good does it do a mean man, with a lot of loafers round him? It can't make him a gentleman." And meditating upon this newly-acquired philoso- phy, Fred and I went to our homes. Mother," said I, I've got back." Yes, my son, I expected you about this time." But I haven't found a fortune, nor brought your camel's-hair shawl." It's just as well," said she; "for I haven't any- thing else that would be suitable to wear with it." 1 ';;; THE LITTLE CHRISTMAS PIES. THE LITTLE CHRISTMAS PIES. BY E. F. F LORIS shut up her book, and looked at mam- ma. "Mamma, I wish we could be s'prised Christmas " Surprised." It was a moment before mamma understood. "It is somewhat difficult," she said then, "to surprise little girls who feel at liberty to go to mamma's drawers at any time, and to untie all the packages when the delivery-man comes. In a small house like this people have to help surprise themselves." Who wants to help surprise theirselves !" ex- claimed little Katy. You ought to be cunning, mamma, and hide things ; a 'truly' hide you know-and not just in bureau drawers." "That's not what I mean at all, Katy," said Floris. " Mamma, I mean a surprise, and not our Christmas presents. Of course, Katy and I know what they'll be, or most know. It'll be our new hats, or some aprons, or something we'd had to have any way, and just one of the every-day Christmas presents besides 3 a book, or a horn of candy. I most know mine'll be a silver thimble this year, 'cause I lost my old one, and I heard you tell papa that Katy 'd better have a workbox, so's to s'courage her to learn sewing more. Now, see 'f 'tain't so." Mamma sat before her little daughters, her guilt confessed in her looks. Not that we blame you, mamma," added Floris, kindly. "I'm old enoughh now to know that if Santa Klaus brings us anything, he comes round before- hand, and gets every cent they cost out of papa-- great Santa Klaus, that is " But what did you mean by a surprise, Floris ?" "0, I d'no, quite," answered Floris. "But I thought I sh'd like to have something happen that never had before; something planned for me 'n' Katy that we didn't know a breath about, and there was no chance of prying into, so that wouldd honestly s'prise us. I never was s'prised in my life yet, mamma. I always found out some way." Mrs. Dewey smiled. She went out to prepare dinner, and nothing more was said; and Miss Floris took up her book with a sigh. But at night, while she was buttoning the two white night-dresses, Mrs. Dewey returned to the subject. "My little daughters, if you will keep out of the kitchen to-morrow, all day, I think I can promise that something very strange and delightful shall happen on Christmas." Four little feet jumped right up and down, two little faces flew up in her own, four little hands caught hold of her, four bright eyes transfixed her indeed, they came pretty near having the secret right out of her on the spot. "O,mamma! Whatisit?" You must be very anxious to be 'truly s'prised,' " remarked mamma. Floris saw the point. She subsided at once. She smiled at mamma with the first elder-daughter smile that had ever crossed the bright child-face. "I guess I shall be 'truly s'prised' if we arn s'prised," she said, with a funny little grimace, as she laid her head on the pillow. Now, remember, it is to be a 'truly keep-out,' " warned Mrs. Dewey. "You are not to enter the kitchen at all-not once all day to-morrow." Why, surely, mamma Dewey, you are not to do anything towa'ds it before breakfast," reasoned little Katy. I shall at least notice whether I am obeyed." What'll happen if we don't ? inquired Katy. Nothing'll happen then," said mamma, quietly. The little voices said no more, and mamma went down stairs. They said not a single word more, be- cause the little Deweys were so constructed that had there not been a standing command that they should not speak after mamma closed the door, their little pink tongues would have run all night; but they squeezed each other's hands very tightly, and also remained awake somewhat longer than usual. Mrs. Dewey smiled next morning to see her daugh- ters seated at their lessons in that part of the sitting- THE LITTLE CHRISTMAS PIES. room furthest from the door that opened into the hall and thus into the kitchen. They never once directly referred to last night's conversation ; but they were extremely civil to her personally, most charm- ingly civil, obedient, and thoughtful. Indeed, Katy's little round shingled head would bob out into the hall almost every time mamma's step was heard. "You must let me bring you anything I can, mamma- any- thing I can, 'thout going into the kitchen, I mean." But, to Katy's disappointment, mamma wished no assistance. Floris offered to go down town, if mamma needed. But mamma wished-nothing that Floris could do. However, to their delight, they saw the delivery- man, when he came, taking down lots of orders in his book. "Would it be w'ong to listen in the hall ?" Katy whispered. "'Cause I could hear everything she told him, 'f I was a-mind to." Floris told her it would be very wrong. The elder little girl studied, and played, and sang, and amused her doll all the morning, and refused to listen to any pleasant sound she heard from the kitchen. She shut her little nose, also, against a sud- den whiff of deliciousness as some door opened. She even went to the well, and brought hard water for her room, because the rain water would have taken her near the forbidden regions. But little Katy was as restless as a bee. She had a thousand errands through the hall. When Floris reprimanded her, she said she didn't 'tend to go a-near the kitchen door. Floris looked out often; but, at last, the little one settled on the hall stairs with her paint-box, and the elder sister felt at rest. But even to her it finally grew a long forenoon. Be- fore ten o'clock she found herself infected with the same restlessness. Then the various sounds which she heard distracted her, such busy sounds she would, at last, have given almost anything to know what was going on out there. The mantel clock was just striking eleven when the hall door unclosed, and Katy's plump little person partially appeared. Come here, quick, quick or she'll be back. I've found out, Flory !" 0, have you Why, Katy Dewey I Floris over- curned the music-stool as she ran. Katy, her head turned listeningly toward the kitchen door, blindly crowded a spoonful of something into her mouth. "There isn't that 'licious good ? 0, Floris, such things as I have seen out there the box of raisins is down on the table, and all her extrach Lubin bottles. I couldn't stay to look much; but, Floris, there's twelve of the most beautiful mince patties- 0, the most beautiful! all iced, and 'Merry Christ- mas,' in pink sand, on every one, and there's twelve more in the iron ready to fill -wasn't that I gave you crammed with raisins !" Floris's eyes danced. Kit Dewey, I'll bet we're going to have a Christmas party--a party of little boys and girls What else was there, do tell rhe " "O, I d'no; there was heaps of raisins and, mebbe, there was ice cream ;" suddenly remembering Floris's fondness for that delectable. Floris knew better than that; but still her eyes danced. Suddenly they heard the back kitchen door, and, as suddenly, Floris turned white. The mince- spoon, Katy! You've brought the mince-spoon! Mamma'll know! " Katy's little mouth dropped open. Quick! She's coming this way !" Floris softly got into the sitting-room, so did Katy. "Where is the spoon ?" hurriedly whispered the elder girl. I stuffed it under the stair carpet, where that rod was up." They could hear mamma coming through the hall. But she came only part way. After a pause, she returned to the kitchen. Katy, what if she's found it ? " She couldn't." They stole out into the hall. The spoon was gone! O, Katy I'll bet you left it sticking out said Floris, and burst into tears. Katy did the same. With one accord they ascended the stairs to their room. When, with red eyes, they came down to dinner, they found mamma in the dining-room as placid as usual. The kitchen door was wide open. After dinner Floris was requested to wipe the dishes. Her work took her into every part of the kitchen domains, and her red eyes peered about sharply ; but nothing unusual was to be seen- not one trace of the beau- tiful patties, not a raisin-stem, even ! Christmas day came and went. Floris had her silver thimble, and Katy her work-box. The dinner table was in the usual holiday trim. But the little frosted pies, with the pink greetings, were not brought THE STRANGERS FROM THE SOUTH. forward -no, and not one word was said concerning them, not even by mamma's eyes. At night they cried softly in their little white bed, after mamma had gone down. And, Floris, I 'mem- ber now, there was something else, under a white cloth, like a plate of kisses, I thought," sobbed Katy, her wet little face pressed into the pillows; "and I shall always think she was going to make fruit- cake, for there was citron all cut up, and there was almonds -" Don't, Katy! I don't want to hear it! I can't hear it!" said Floris, in a thick voice; "and don't let us disobey mamma more by talking." But what did become of the beautiful, frosted, pink- lettered little pies would you like to know ? Floris and Katy cannot tell you; for never yet have mamma and her little daughters exchanged a word upon the subject -but I think I can. At least I was told that a factory-weaver's family, where there were several little girls, had the most lovely of patties, and kisses, and sugar-plums sent them for their Christmas dinner last year. THE STRANGERS FROM THE SOUTH. BY ELLA FARMAN. UNLESS I take a long half mile circle, my daily walk to the post-office leads me down through an unsavory, wooden-built portion of town. I am obliged to pass several cheap groceries, which smell horribly of sauer-krait and Limburg cheese, a res- taurant steamy with Frenchy soups, a livery stable, besides two or three barns, and some gloomy, window- less, shut-up buildings, of whose use I haven't the slightest idea. Of course, when I go out in grand toilet, I take the half mile circle. But, being a business woman, and generally in a hurry, I usually go this short way in my short walking-dress and big parasol ; and, prob- ably, there is an indescribable expression to my nose, just as Mrs. Jack Graham says. Well, one morning I was going down town in the greatest hurry. I was trying to walk so fast that I needn't breathe once going by the Dutch groceries; and I was almost to the open space which looks away off to the sparkling river, and the distant park, and the forenoon sun, I always take a good, long, sweet breath there, coming and going, when my eye was caught by a remarkable group across the street. Yes, during the night, evidently, while the town was asleep, there had been an arrival--strangers direct from the Sunny South. And there the remarkable-looking strangers sat, in a row, along the narrow step of one of the mysterious buildings I have alluded to. They were sunning themselves with all the delightful carelessness of the experienced traveler. Though, evidently, they had been presented with the liberty of the city, it was just as evident that they didn't care a fig for sightseeing- not a fig, either, for the inhabitants. All they asked of our town was its sunshine. They had selected the spot where they could get the most of it. Through the open space opposite the sun streamed broadly; and the side of a weather-colored building is so warm ! What a picture of dolce far niente, of "sweet-do- nothing," it was I stopped, hung my parasol over my shoulder, there was a little too much sunshine for me, -- and gazed at it. O, how you do love it You bask like animals I That fullness of enjoyment is denied to us white-skins. What a visible absorption of luster and heat You are the true lotus-eaters " The umber-colored creatures I suppose they are as much warmer for being brown, as any brown sur- face is warmer than a white one. I never did see sunshine drank, and absorbed, and enjoyed as that was. It was a bit of Egypt and the Nile life. I could not bear to go on. Finally, I crossed the street to them. Not one of THE STRANGERS FROM THE SOUTH. them stirred. The eldest brother was standing, lean- ing against the building. He turned one eye on me, and kept it there. At his feet lay a bulging, ragged satchel. Evidently he was the protector. The elder sister, with hands tucked snugly under her folded arms, winked and blinked at me dozily. The little boy with the Nubian lips was sound asleep, -a baby Osiris, his chubby hands hiding together between his knees for greater warmth. The youngest sister, wrapped in an old woolen shawl, was the only uncomfortable one of the lot. There was no doze nor dream in her eyes yet -poor thing, she was cold I I didn't believe they had had where to lay their heads during the night. Liberty of a city, to one kind of new arrivals, means just that, you know. Sundry crumbs indicated an absence of the conven- tional breakfast table. Poor little darkies I "Children," I said, like a benevolently-disposed city marshal, "you mustn't sit here in the street." "We's gwine on soon, mistis," said the protector, meekly. "I 'low we ain't, Jim The big sister said this without any diminution of the utter happiness of her look. It's powerful cold coming' up fru the norf, mistis. I mls' let 'em warm up once a day," said Jim. Up through the north! Pray, where are you going? " Jim twisted about. He looked down at the toe of his boot, reflectively. I ex-pect, I ex-pect-" "You spec, Jim! You allers spectin'! Mistis, we's free-we kin go anywhars " I suspect there had been a great deal of long- suffering on the part of Jim. He burst out like flame from a smoldering fire,- "Anlywhzars / That's what ails niggas Freedom means anywhars to 'em, and so they're nuffin' nor nobody. You vagabon', Rose Moncton, you kin't go anywhars much longer-not 'long o' me! "0, you white folksy Jim I 'low this trompin' was yer own plan. When you finds a town whar it's THE STRANGERS FROM THE SOUfH. any show of warm, I'll hang up my things and stay, and not afore--ye hyar that! I 'low I won't see Peyty and Kit a-freezin' " She scowled at me, she actually did, as if I froze her with my pale face and cool leaf-green dress, and kept the sun off her, talking with that "white folksy Jim." I fancied Jim was hoping I would say something more to them. I fancied he, at least, was in great need of a friend's advice. Where did you come from ?" I asked him. But the other head of the family answered, - Come from nuff sight warmer place than we's goin' anywhars." Rose is allers techy when she's cold, mistis," Jim apologized. "Ole Maum Phillis used fer to say as Rose's temper goose-pimpled when the cold air struck it. We kim from Charleston, mistis. We's speckin' to work out some land for ourselves, and hev a home. We kim up norf to git wages, so as we kin all help at it. I'd like to stop hyar, mistis." Hyar! I 'low we's going' soufard when we gits from dis yer, you Jim," sniffed "Rose Moncton," her face up to the sunshine. Poor Jim looked care-worn. I dare say my face was tolerably sympathetic. It felt so, at least. Mistis," the fellow said, she's kep us tackin' souf an' norf, souf an' norf, all dis yer week, or we'd been somewhars. She don't like de looks of no town yet. We's slep' roun' in sheds six weeks now. I gits sawin' an' choppin', an' sich, to do once a day, while dey warms up in de sun, an' eats a bite. Den up we gits, an' tromps on. We's got on so fur, but Rose ain't clear at all yit whar we'll stop. Mistis, whar is de warmest place you knows on ? " I thought better and better of myself as the heavy- faced fellow thus appealed to me. I felt flattered by his confidence in me. I always feel flattered when a strange kitty follows me, or the birdies hop near for my crumbs. But I will confess that no human vaga- bond had ever before so skillfully touched the soft place in my heart. Poor, dusky wanderer he looked so hungry, he looked so worn-out, too, as a head of a family will when the other head pulls the other way. "Well, Jim, the warmest place I know of is in my kitchen. I left a rousing fire there ten minutes ago. You all stay here until I come back, which will be in about seven minutes; then you shall go hcie with me, and I will give you a good hot dinner. You may stay all night, if you like, and perhaps I can advise you. You will be rested, at the least, for a fresh start." Rose Moncton lifted her listless head, and looked in my face. Laws said she. "Laws! said she again. Jim pulled his forelock to me, vailed the flash in his warm umbery eyes with a timely wink of the heavy lids. He composed himself at once into a waiting attitude. I heard another "Laws!" as I hastened away. "That young mistis is done crazy. She'll nebber kim back hyar, 'pend on dat!" Such was Rose's opinion of me. I opened my ears for Jim's. But Jim made nc reply. Father and mother had gone out of town for two days. Our hired girl had left. I really was "mistis' of the premises. If I chose to gather in a circle o6 shivering little niggas" around my kitchen stove, and heat that stove red-hot, there was nobody to say I better not. I was back in five minutes, instead of seven. Jirr stood straight up on his feet the moment he dis- covered me coming. Rose showed some faint signs of life and interest. "'Clar, now, mistis Kim along, den, Jim, and see ye look to that there verlise. Hyar, you Kit!" She managed to rouse her sister with her foot, still keeping her hands warmly hidden, and her face to the sun. But the other head took the little ones actively.in charge. Come, Peyty, boy! come, Kit! we's gwine now " Peyty opened his eyes how starry they were 1 "O, we goin', mo' ? Jim, I don't want to go no mo' !' "Ain't gwine clar thar no, Peyty, boy; come, Kit- only to a house to warm the Peyty boy come, Kit !" Kit was coming fast enough. Eut Peyty had to be taken by the arm and pulled up. Then he stepped slowly, the tears coming. The movement revealed great swollen welts, where his stiff, tattered, leather shoes had chafed and worn into the fat, black little legs. Is dat ar Mistis Nelly ?" he asked, opening his eyes, wonderingly, at the white lady. Rose had got up now. A sudden quiver ran over Ier face. No, Peyty. Mis't' Nelly's dead, you THE STRANGERS FROM THE SOUTH. know. Wish we's back to Mas'r Moncton's, and Mist' Nelly libbin', an' Linkum sojers dead afore dey cum! " There was a long sigh from everybody, even from Jim. But he drew in his lips tightly the next moment. Some niggas nebber was worf freein'. Come along, Peyty, boy-ready, mistis." I walked slowly along at the head of the strangers from the south. Little feet were so sore, Peyty couldn't walk fast. Kit's big woman's size shoes were so stiff she could only shuffle along. Jim's toes were protruding, and I fancied he and Rose were as foot-sore as the little ones. I dare say people looked and wondered ; but I am not ashamed to be seen with any kind of children. I took them around to the back door, into the kitchen, which I had found unendurable while baking my bread and pies. The heated air rushed out against my face as I opened the door. It was a delicious May-day ; but the procession behind me, entering, proceeded direct to the stove, and surrounded it in winter fashion, holding their hands out to the heat. Even from Jim I heard a soft sigh of satisfaction. Poor, shivering children of the tropics I drew up the shades. There were no outer blinds, and the sun streamed in freely. There, now. Warm yourselves, and take your own time for it. Put in wood, Jim, and keep as much fire as you like. I am going to my room to rest for an hour. Be sure that you don't go off, for I wish you to stay here until you are thoroughly rested. I have plenty of wood for you to saw, Jim." I brought out a pan of cookies. I set them on the table. Here, Rose, see that Peyty and Kit have all they want. When I come down, I'll get you some dinner." The poor children in stories, and in real life, too, for that matter, always get only bread and butter-- dear me, poor dears When I undertake a romance for these waifs in real life, or story, I always give.them cookies cookies, sweet, golden, and crusty, with sifted sugar. I left them all, even to Jim, looking over into the pan. My rich, sugary jumbles, and plummy queen's cakes? When I saw their eyes dance-no sleep in those eyes now -I was glad it wasn't simply whole- some sandwiches and plain fried cakes, as somebody at my elbow says now it ought to have been. I would have set out a picnic table, with ice-cream and candies, for those wretched little niggas," if I could ! I nodded to them, and went away. It is so nice, after you have made a child happy, to add some unmistaka- ble sign that it is quite welcome to the happiness ! I knew there was nothing which they could steal. I expected they would explore the pantry. I judged them by some of my little white friends. But the silver was locked up. China and glass would hardly be available. If, after they had stuffed themselves with those cookies, they could want cold meat, and bread and butter, I surely shouldn't begrudge it. Then I thought of my own especial lemon tart, which stood cooling on the shelf before the window; but I was not going back to insult that manly Jim Moncton by removing it. Just as I was slipping on my dressing-gown up in my own cool, quiet chamber, I caught a faint sound of the outside door of the kitchen. Something like a shriek, or a scream, followed. Then there was an unmistakable and mighty overturning of chairs. I rushed down. At the very least I expected to see my romantic "Rose Moncton with her hands clenched in brother Jim's kinky hair. With loosened tresses, without belt or collar, I appeared on the scene. What did I see ? Why, I saw Phillis, Mrs. Jack Graham's black cook, with every one of my little 'niggas in her arms -heads of the family and all ! There they were, sobbing and laughing together, the portly Phillis the loudest of the whole. One of Mrs. Jack's favorite china bowls lay in fragments on the floor. Phillis called out hysterically as she saw me. Jim discovered me the same moment. He detached him- self, went up to the window, and bowed his head down upon the sash. I saw the tears roll down his cheek and drop. Laws, Miss Carry dese my ole mas'r's niggers ! dey's Mas'r Moncton's little nigs, ebery one dey's runned roun' under my feet in Mas'r Moncton's kitchen many a day down in ole Carline bress em souls She hugged them again, and sobbed afresh, The children clung to the old cook's neck,and waist, and arms like so many helpless, frightened black kittens. Phillis at last recovered her dignity. She pointed them to their chairs. She picked up the pieces of china in her apron. "Done gone, anyhow -dese pickaninnies gib ole Phillis sich a turn It mose like WI' WEE WINKERS BLINKIN'. seeing' Mas'r Moncton an' Miss Nelly demselves. Whar you git 'em, Miss Carry?" I told her. Bress your heart, Miss Carry Len' me a cup, and git me some yeast, and I'll bring Misfis Graham ober, an' I'll be boun', when she sees dat ar lubly little Peyty, she'll hire him to to- to- lor I she'll hire him to look into his diamint eyes." I know she herself kissed tears out of more than one pair of "diamint eyes" while I was getting the yeast. I heard her. O, Maum Phillis I heard Jim say. "You think we'll hire out roun' hyar ?" Could we, Maum Phillis ?" pleaded Rose, her voice soft and warm now. "We's done tired out. I'm clean ready to drop down in my tracks long this yer blessed stove, and nebber stir anywhars " Bress you, chilluns You hev tromped like sojers, clar from ole Carline Spec it seems like home, finding' one of de old place hands- Phillis knows. Dar, dar don't take on so. Miss Carry, she'll bunk you down somewhar it's warm, and thar you stay an" rest dem feet. I'll send my mistis ober, and dey two'll pervide fer ye on dis yer street; dis yer one ob de Lord's own streets." Well, do you think Mistis Graham and Mistis Carry- dishonored Maum Phillis's faith in them ? No, indeed! The family found homes on "de Lord's own street." Jam is coachman at Squire Lee's. Peyty is at the same place, taken in at first. for his sweet disposition, and "diamint eyes," I sus- pect. He is now a favorite table-waiter. Kit is Maum Phillis's right-hand woman. Rose is our own hired girl. She is somewhat given to sleep- iness, and to idling in sunny windows, and to scorch- ing her shoes and aprons against the stove of a winter's evening. But, on the whole, she is a good servant; and we have built her a bedroom out of the kitchen. I have never regretted crossing the street to speak to the strangers from the south. WI' WEE WINKERS BLINKIN'. BY J. E. RANKIN, D. D. WI' wee winkers blinkin', Blinkin' like the starn, What's wee tottie thinking ? Tell her mither, bairn. On night's downy dream-wings, Where's the bairnie been, That she has sic seeming In her blinkin' een ? Let her mither brood her, Like the mither-doe; When enough she's woo'd her, She maun prie her mou': Let her mither shake her, Like an apple bough, Frae her dreams to wake her: - That's our bairnic now! There! I've got her crowin' Like the cock at dawn; Mou' wi' fistie stowin', When she tries to yawn : She'll na play the stranger Drappit frae the blue, Lest there might be danger Back she sud gae through ! She's our little mousie, In this house born, That I tumble tousie, Ilka, ilka morn: She's her mither's bairne, Only flesh an' blood; Blinkin' like the starnie Through a neebor cloud. LUCY'S PET. THE CHILDREN' SHOES. BY BLANCHE B. BAKER (nineyears' old). F OUR pairs of little shoes All in a row; Four pairs of little shoes For to-morrow. Four pairs of little shoes Worn every day; Four pairs of little shoes Ready for play. Four pairs of little shoes By the fire's glow; Four pairs of little shoes White at the toe. Four pairs of little shoes Travelling all day; Four pairs of little shoes Resting from play. Four pairs of little shoes Waiting for day; Four pairs of little shoes Never go astray! ETHEL'S EXPERIMENT. BY I3. E. E. WHITE flakes on the upland, white flakes on the plain, Frost bon-bons in meadow, in garden, in lane; And wise little Ethel the strangest of girls - Puts on her grave thinking-cap, shakes her brown curls, And talks to herself, in a curious way, Of snow and a ball aud a hot summer's day! " Then, down to the brook, where the gnarled willows grow, And the ice-covered reeds stand like soldiers in row, Our brave little girl trudges off all alone, And rolls a large snow-ball just under the stone That lies on the brink of the streamlet, and then In this wise begins her soliloquy: When The Fourth of July comes, what fun it will be To have all this snow tucked away, for you see Nobody will guess how it came there, but me " Green leaves on the upland, green leaves on the plain, And bluebirds and robins and south winds again. The brook in the meadow is wide awake now, And fragrant bloom drops from the old willows bough, When Ethel remembers her treasure, her prize, That under the edge of the great boulder lies; And stealthily creeping close down to the brink, Where the slender reeds quiver now what do you think Our little girl found ? Why, never a trace Of the snow-ball-- 0 no but just in its place A tiny white violet, sweetest of sweet, Because of the coverlid over its feet Through all the long winter And Ethel's mamma, When she heard the whole story said, Truly we are No wiser than children. We bury our grief, And find in its hiding-place Hope's tender leaf " CINDERS: THE FORTUNE CARL FOUND IN THE ASHES. CINDERS: THE FORTUNE CARL FOUND IN THE ASHES. BY MADGE ELLIOT. HOW artful the wind was that cold March morn- ing, hiding away every now and then, pretend- ing to be quite gone, only to rush out with a fearful howl at such unexpected moments that Carl was nearly blown off his feet each time. But he struggled bravely forward, bending his head to the blast, and holding his brimless hat on with one hand, while he carried his battered tin pail in the other. There was not a gleam of fire in the wretched room he had just left; and Tony and Lena, his little sisters, wrapped in the old piece of carpet that served them for a blanket, were almost crying with hunger and with cold. They would have cried outright if Carl had not kissed them, and said, Never mind, young uns - wait till I can give you each a regular bang-up lace hankercher to cry on, then you may cry as much as you please." Father and mother had died within a week of each other, when February's snows were upon the ground, leaving these three poor children without money and without friends a bad way for even grown-ups to be left. So Carl, poor boy, found himself, at ten years of age, the head of a family. Of course he became a newsboy. Almost all heads of families ten years and under, become newsboys. Twenty-five cents given him by an old woman who sold apples and peanuts, and who, by the way, was not much better off than he was himself, started him in business. But the business, I am sorry to say, scarcely paid the rent, leaving nothing for clothing, food and fire, three very necessary things,-be a home ever so humble. So every morning, almost as soon as the day dawned and I can tell you day dawns very quickly in a room where the window hasn't a scrap of shade or curtain before he went down town for his stock of morning papers, Carl started out to bring homir the family fuel. This consisted of whatever sticks and bits of wool he could find lying about the streets, and whatever cinders and pieces of coal he could pick from th ash-barrels and boxes. If the weather was at all mild, Tony, the eldest sister, and the housekeeper, went with him, and helped him fill the old pail. She carried a forlorn-looking basket, that seemed ashamed of the old piece of rope that served for its handle, and stopped on her way home at several houses, where the servant girls had taken a fancy to the gray-eyed, shy little thing, to get the family mar- keting. But alas! very very often the supply fell far short of the demand, for the winter had been a very sever 2 one, and everybody had such a number of calls from all sorts of needy people, that they could afford t3 give but little to each one. This particular March morning Carl wentout alone, wondering as he went when the fortune was going to turn up." For these poor children, shut out from dolls, fairy-books, and all things that make childhood merry and bright, used to while away many an hour, talking of a fortune which the brother had prophesied would one day be found in the ashes. At different times this dream took different shapes. Sometimes it was a pocket-book, oh! so fat with greenbacks, sometimes a purse of gold, sometimes a diamint ring: but, whatever it should prove to be, Carl was convinced, "felt it in his bones," he said, it would be found, and found hidden among the cinders. CINDERS: THE FORTUNE CARL FOUND IN THE ASHES. Once he had brought home a silver fork, scooped," as he called it in newsboy's slang, from an ash-heap in an open lot. On this fork the family had lived for three days. Once he rescued a doll, which would have been .lovely if it had had a head ; and at various times there were scraps of ribbon, lace and silk, all of which served to strengthen the belief that something wonder- ful must "turn up at last. Cricky how that old wind does holler," said Carl to himself, as he toiled along, an' it cuts right through me, my jacket's so thin an' torn I'd mend it myself if I only knew how, and somebody'd lend me a needle and thread. Don't I wish I'd find the fortune this morning! I dreamt of it last night-dreamt it was a bar of gold, long as my arm, and precious thick, too. "Guess I'll go to that big bar'l afore them orful high flat houses that's allus full of cinders. "It's lucky for us them big bugs don't sift their ashes! Wewouldn't have no fire if they did, -that's what's the matter." So he made his way to the "big bar'l," hoping no ,one had been there before him, and, leaning over without looking, put his cold, red hand into the ashes, but he drew it out again in a hurry, for, cold as it was, it had touched something colder. "Hello cried Carl, "what's that? It don't feel 'zactly like the bar of gold," and, dropping on his knees, he peeped in. A dirty little, shaggy, once-white dog raised a pair of soft, dark, wistful eyes to his face. "Why I'm blessed," said Carl, in great surprise, "if it ain't a dog. Poor little beggar! that was his nose I felt, an' wasn't it cold ?" "I s'pose he's got in among the ashes to keep warm; wot pooty eyes he's got, just like that woman's wot give me a ten cent stamp for the Tribune the other day, and wouldn't take no change. Poor old feller Are you lost? " The dog had risen to its feet, and still looking pleadingly at Carl, commenced wagging its tail in a friendly manner. "Oh! you want me to take you home," continued Carl. I can't 'cause I dunno where you live, and my family eats all they can git theirselves they're awful pigs, they are," and he laughed softly, an' *couldn't board a dog nohow." But the dog kept on wagging his tail, and as soon as Carl ceased speaking, as though grateful for even a few kind words, it licked the cold hand that rested on the side of the barrel. That dog-kiss won the poor boy's heart completely. "You shall go with me," he cried impulsively. "Jest come out of that barrel till I fill this pail with cin- ders, and then we'll be off. He kin have the bones we can't crack with our teeth ennyhow," he said to himself, not a very cheerful prospect, it must be confessed, for the boarder. The dog, as though he understood every word, jumped from the box, and seated himself on the icy pavement to wait for his new landlord and master. In a few moments the pail was full, and the boy turned toward his home, running as fast as he could, with the dog trotting along by his side. See wot I foun' in the ashes,' he cried, bounding into the room. Here's the fortune alive an' kickin'. Wot you think of it?" Oh, wot a funny fortune! said Tony, and "Wot a funny fortune repeated little Lena. "It's kinder queer, -the pocket-book an' the di- mint ring a-turnin' into a dog!" Tony continued. " But no matter, if we can't buy nothing' with him, we can love him, poor little feller " "Poor littlee feller repeated Lina. "He nicer than dollie'ithout a head, ennyhow. Wecan lub him." An' now, Carl," said the housekeeper, "you make the fire, an' I'll run to market, for it's most time you went after your papers." And away she sped, to return in a few minutes with five or six cold potatoes, a few crusts of bread, and one bone, with very little meat and that gristle - clinging to it. And this bone think if you can of a greater act of self-denial and charity-the children decided with one accord should be given to Cinders," as they had named the dog on the spot. That night, after Carl had sold his papers, and come home tired but hopeful, for he had made thirty cents clear profit to save toward the rent, they all huddled together, with doggie in the midst of them, around the old iron furnace that held their tiny fire. Presently the Head of the Family began whistling a merry tune, which was a great favorite with the newsboys. Imagine the astonishment of the children when CINDERS: THE FORTUNE CARL FOUND IN THE ASHES. Cinders pricked up his ears, rose on his hind legs, and, after gravely walking across the room once, began to walk round and round, keeping perfect time to the music ! "Hurrah! hurrah!" shouted Carl, his eyes spark- ling. "Look at that! look at that! Tony, it 'tis the fortune after all an' I did find it in the ash-box! " "Why, wot do you mean, Bub ?" cried Tony, al- most as excited as her brother. Wot do you mean, .an' ware's 'the fortune ?'" "Why there, right afore your eyes. I mean Cin- ,ders is one o' them orful smart hundred-dollar dogs wot does tricks. He's bin lost by that circus wot went away night afore last, an' he's bin lost a-purpose to make my dreams come true I'll take him out the fust fine day, an' we'll bring home lots of stamps. You see if we don't! " I'll sell the papers," said Tony, by this time quite as excited as her brother; I kin do it, Carl. 'Ere's the morning' Herald, Sun, Times an' Tri-bune!'" imitating the shrill cry of the newsboy, and doing it very well, too, an' the fellers'll be good to me, 'cos I'm your sister, an' they like you." You're a brick, Tony said Carl, an, for sich a :small brick the brickiest brick I ever knowed; but I kin sell 'em myself in the morning an' you kin take 'em in the afternoon, for that's the time Cinders an' me must perform. 'Monseer Carlosky an' his werry talented dog Cinders, son of the well-known French performing poodle Cinderella.' How's that, Tony ? O I've read all about 'em on the circus bills, and that's the way they do it. Yes, you'll have to take the papers in the afternoon, cos then's when the swell boys an' gals is home from school, -'cept Saturdays, then we'll be out most all day." Dance more, Tinders, dance more i here broke in little Lena; but Cinders stood looking at his master, evidently waiting for the music. So Carl commenced whistling--did I tell you he whistled like a bird ? and Cinders once more marched gravely across the room, and then began waltzing again in the most comical manner. He had evidently been trained to perform his tricks just twice ; for when the music ceased this time he proceeded to stand on his head, and then sitting up on his hind legs, he nodded politely to the audience, and held out one of his paws, as much as to say, "Now pay if you please." The poor children forgot hunger and cold in their delight, and that miserable room resounded to more innocent, merry laughter that night than it had heard for many long years, perhaps ever before. Cinders got another bone for his supper-the others had nothing and then they all went to bed, if lying on the bare floor, with nothing for a pillow can be called going to bed, and dreamed of "the fortune found at last in the ashes. The next afternoon, which fortunately was a fine one, for March having come in like a lion was pre- paring to go out like a lamb," Carl came racing up the crazy stairs, taking two steps at a time, and, toss- ing a bundle of evening papers to Tony, he whistled to Cinders, and away they went. Poor Carl looked shabby enough, with his toes sticking out of a pair of old shoes a part of the treasures "scooped" from the ash-heap and not mates at that, one being as much too large as the other was too small, his tattered jacket and his brim- less hat. But Cinders followed him as faithfully as though he had been clad in a costly suit of the very latest style. Turning into a handsome, quiet street, Carl stopped at last before a house where three or four rosy-cheeked children were flattening their noses against the panes of the parlor windows, trying to see a doll which another rosy-cheeked child was holding up at a win- dow just opposite. Now Cinders, ole feller said Carl, while his heart beat fast, "do your best. BONES! and he began to whistle. At the first note Cinders stood up on his hind legs, at the second he took his first step forward. At the beginning of the fourth bar the waltz began; and by this time the rosy-cheeked children had lost all interest in the doll over the way, and were all shouting and calling "Mamma!" and the cook and chambermaid had made their appearance at the area gate. The march and waltz having been gone through with twice, Cinders stood on his head suree" said the cook, "I couldn't do it better myself "-tumbled quickly to his feet again, nodded affably once to the right, once to the left, and once to the front of him, and held out his right paw. He's the cliverest baste ever I seen," said the CINDERS: THE F( RTUNE CARL FOUND IN THE ASHES. chambermaid, "so he is and she threw a five cent piece in Carl's old hat; and, at the same moment the window was opened, and out flew a perfect shower of pennies, while the little girl across the way kept shout- ing, "Come here, ragged little boy! Come here, funny doggie! Oh, why don't you come here? " And, making his best bow to his first audience, Carl went over to the doll's house, and was received by the whole family, including grandpa and grandma, with great delight and laughter, and was rewarded at the end of his entertainment with much applause, three oranges, and a new ten cent stamp. That afternoon Cinders earned one dollar and three cents for his little master; and I can't describe to you the joy that reigned in that small bare room when Carl, in honor of his debut as Monseer Carl- osky" brought in, and spread out on a newspaper on the floor, a wonderful feast! Real loaf of bread, bought at the baker's, bottle of sarsaparilla at the grocer's, and peanuts, apples, and a hunk of some extraordinary candy from the old woman who kept a stand at the corner, and who had started Carl as a newsboy. She also received her twenty-five cents again, with five cents added by way of interest. "Why! didn't they look when they see me a-order- in' things, and payin' for 'em on the spot!" said "Monseer," with honest pride, as he carved the loaf with an old jackknife. As for Cinders, no meatless bone, but half a pound of delicious liver, did that remarkable dog receive, and more kisses on his cold, black nose than he knew what to do with. After that, as the weather grew finer and finer, and the days longer, Carl and his dog wandered farther and farther, and earned more and more money every day, until the little sisters rejoiced in new shoes, hats and dresses, and the housekeeper had a splendid bas- ket- not very large, of course- with a handle that any basket could be proud of, and actually did go to m, .'et, fair and square, and no make believe about it. And Carl presented himself with a brand-new suit of clothes, from the second-hand shop next door, in- cluding shoes that were made for each other, and a hat with a brim. By-and-by the cheerless room was exchanged for a pleasanter one; and the story of the fair-haired Head of the Family, and the fortune he found in the ashes, took wings, and returned to him laden with blessings. And five years from that bleak March morning, when Cinder looked up so pleadingly in the boy's face, Carl found himself a clerk in the counting-room of a generous, kind-hearted merchant. "A boy who worked so hard and so patiently to take care of his little sisters," this gentleman said to his wife, "and who was ready to share his scanty meals with a vagrant dog, must be a good boy, and good boys make good men." And Tony and Lena, both grown to be bright, healthy, merry girls, befriended by many good women, were going to school, taking care of the house, earn- ing a little in odd moments by helping the seamstress who lived on the floor below, and still looking up with love and respect to the Head of the Family. Cinders, petted and beloved by all, performed in public no more, but spent most of his time lying by the fire in winter, and on the door-step in summer, waiting and listening for the step of his master. So you see Carl was right. He did find his fortune among the ashes. But would it have proved a fortune had he been a cruel, selfish, hard-hearted boy ? Ah! that's the question. 1:,,, "- 7" i '' TOM'S CENTENNIAL. TOM'S CENTENNIAL. A FOURTH OF JULY STORY. BY MARGARET EYTINGE. 00,-; -..4 $ ,- 2. ._.,- - S"AL cent-tennial" said his little sister 4 4 r V .\ .x .- P Caddy, that won't be anything great." S,- Pooh! you don't understand - -' *' ne o Centennial don't ,mean anything about money. Centennial means 'per- taining to, or happening every hundred years'-if SYa hundred years ago this magnificent Republic of I America, gentlemen of the jury," he continued, mount- ing a garden-chair, and making the most absurd gest- .: .-ures, was declared free and independent, and its -, brave citizens determined not to drink tea unless they Atlantic went marching home to the tune the old cow -~died on." X"'.1 ,' a tune was that ? asked Caddy. S"Gentlemen of the jury," said Tom, "I'm aston- ... ished to find such ignorance in this great and enlight- ened country. The name of that memorable tune was S URRAH To-morrow's the Fourth of July and still is, as eYour Honor well knows, Yankee Doo- i l the glorious Fourth! shouted Tom Wallace, dle ;" and the orator, descending from the chair, careering wildly around [ne flower garden, as a Roman commenced whistling that famous melody. candle he held in his hand, evidently unable to contain Well, then," said Caddy, after a moment' itself until the proper time, went off with a fizz and a thought, "if a Centinal is something about a hundred pop and flashed against the evening sky, and it's years old, Aunt Patience is one, for she's a hundred going to be the greatest Fourth that ever was known, years old to-morrow she told me so and she feels ---- ilYY-iY I TOM'S CENTENNIAL. real bad 'cause she can't go to the green to see the fire-works, on 'count of the pain in her back, and Faith ain't got any shoes or hat, and the flour's 'most gone, and so's the tea, and she says 'the poor-house looms.' " "'The poor-house looms,' does it?" said Tom laughing ; and then he stuck his hands in his pockets, and hummed "Hail Columbia in a thoughtful man- ner. I say, Frank," he called out at last, going up on the porch, and poking his head in at a window, what are you doing ? " 'The king was in the parlor, counting out his money,'" answered Frank. How much, king ? " Twenty thirty thirty-five," said Frank, one dollar and thirty-five cents. How do you figure ? " "Two, fifteen. Come out here, I want to tell you something." Frank, who was two years younger than Tom. ap peared. What's up ? he asked, throwing himself into the hammock which hung from the roof of the porch, and swinging lazily. Would it break your heart, and smash the fellows generally, if we didn't go to the meeting on the green to-morrow evening, after all the fuss we've made about it?" That? asked Frank, in a tone of surprise, as- suming a sitting position so suddenly that the ham- mock-hammocks are treacherous things-gave a sudden lurch, and landed him on the floor. Tom's laughter woke all the echoes around. "Forgive these tears," he said, as he wiped his eyes, and now to business. You know not, perhaps, my gentle brother, that we have a centenarian, or as Caddy says, a centinal among us ? " A centinal ? said Frank, stretching himself out on the floor where he had fallen. "A centenarian, or centinal, whichever you choose, most noble kinsman, and she lives on the outskirts of this town. Her name- a most admirable one -is Patience. Her granddaughter's another admirable one Faith. "Patience has the rheumatism. Faith has no shoes. They want to see some fire-works, and hear some Fourth of July being centinals they naturally would. "What say you? Shall we and our faithful clan, instead of swelling the ranks of the militia on the green, march to the humble cottage behind the hill, and gladden the hearts of old Patience and young Faith with a pyr-o-tech-nic display?" "Good! said Frank, who always followed the lead of his elder brother. And Good echoed Caddy; but don't spend all your money for fire-works. Give some to Aunt Pa- tience, 'cause she's the only centinal we've got." And she'll never be another," said Tom, "' While the star-spangled banner in triumph doth wave, O'er the land of the free and the home of the brave.' " So on the evening of the Fourth the people of Tomstown were somewhat astonished to see the young Centennial Guards march down the principal street, pass the green, where extensive preparations for festivities had been made, and keep on up the hill until, beginning to descend on the other side, they were lost to sight. At the head marched Frank with his drum. Caddy came directly behind him with a bunch of brilliant flowers. The others carried flags, Chinese lanterns, and boxes of fire-works, while Captain Tom flew here and there and everywhere, trying to keep an almost hopeless task the mischievous company in some- thing like order. Where away ? shouted Uncle Al an old sailor home for the holiday--as the guards passed his door. To Aunt Patience-our own special Centennial," Frank shouted back with a tremendous roll of the drum. Uncle Al, always ready for fun, pipe in mouth, fell in line, waving his tarpaulin on the end of a stick, and Ex, his yellow dog, and Ander, his black one, followed after, grinning and wagging their tails. Then the butcher's boy, and his chum the baker's boy, who were going by, turned and joined the pro- cession, and away they all went, hurrahing, laughing and drumming, to the door of the very small cottage. Bless my heart !" said Aunt Patience, who was sitting in a wooden arm-chair on the stoop, and who, hearing faintly, poor, dear, deaf old soul, the noise of TOM'S CENTENNIAL. the approaching "guards," had been thinking the frogs croaked much louder than usual, "what's this ?" And bare-footed, brown-eyed Faith came out with wonder written all over her pretty face. Three cheers for our special Centennial !" shouted the boys; and they gave three with a will, as Caddy placed her flowers in the old woman's hand. Now for the pyr-o-tech-nic display! commanded Captain Tom ; and for nearly an hour Roman candles fizzed, blue-lights popped, torpedoes cracked, pin- wheels whizzed, and fire-crackers banged. Old Patience said it was worth living a hundred years to see. And as the last fire-work went up a rocket and came down a stick, the gallant company formed in single file, and, marching past Aunt Patience, each member bade her "good-night," and dropped some money in her lap. As for Uncle Al that generous, jolly, warm- hearted old sailor, his gift was three old-fashioned silver dollars ; one for himself, one for Ex, and one for Ander. "No one should think," he said, "that his dogs were mean dogs." Then away they all went again, hurrahing, shouting, and drumming like mad! |