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ANIMAL LIFE FROM EVERY ZONE.

 
 

 

Maranon STORIES

—A RARE—

COLLECTION OF STORIES

FOR BOYS AND GIRLS.

 

 

 

   

 

  
    

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SUPERBLY ILLUSTRATED.

COPYRIGHT 1892.

INTERNATIONAL PUBLISHING CO.,,

CHICAGO AND PHILADELPHIA.
 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

ining fi

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nan
= Ser/ fuss alia

 
Whom Hhall \e GFhank?

LITTLE boy had sought the
pump,
From which the sparkling
water bursts,
And drank with eager joy
that draught
That kindly quenched his raging thirst.
Then gracefully he touched his cap—
“T thank you, Mr. Pump,” he said,
“For this nice drink you’ve given me!’
(This little boy has been well-bred.)

 

Then said the Pump: “My little man,
You're welcome to what I have done;

But I am not the one to thank—
I only help the water run.” .

“Oh, then,” the little fellow said, ©
(Polite he always meant to be)

“Cold water, please accept my thanks;
You have been very kind to me.”

“Ah!” said Cold Water, “don’t thank me;
Far up the hillside lives the Spring
That sends me forth with generous hand
To gladden every living thing.”
“Tl thank thee, Spring, then,” said the
boy—
And gracefully he bowed his head.

 

“Oh, don’t thank me, my little man,”
The Spring in silvery accents said.

“Oh, don’t thank me; for what am I
Without the dew or summer rain?
Without their aid I ne’er could quench
Your thirst, my little boy, again.”’

“Oh, well, then,” said the little boy,
“I'll gladly thank the rain and dew.”

“Pray don’t thank us—without the sun,
We could not fill one cup for you.”

“Then, Mr. Sun, ten thousand thanks
For all that thou hast done for me.”
“Stop,” said the Sun, with blushing face,
“My little man, pray don’t thank me.
"Twas from the ocean’s mighty stores
I drew the draught I gave to thee.”
“Oh, Ocean, thanks!” then said the boy—
It echoed back: “Not unto me.”

“Not unto me, but unto Him
Who formed the depths in which I lie—

‘Go, give thy thanks, my little boy,

To Him who doth thy wants supply.”
The boy then took his cap and said,
In tones so gentle and subdued:
"Qh, God, I thank thee for the gift—
Thou art the giver of all good.”

 
\Ohistling [P\armots.

ANY strange animals inhabit the mountains of
the west, and it was once my pleasure to have
a pleasant experience with some of the most
curious animals that nature has produced.

A party of us had started for the mountains
on a hunt, from which we expected a great deal
of pleasure. One bright day, after enjoying our
noon-day lunch, we passed through a beautiful
piece of bottom land blooming with flowers, red
and yellow monthly musk fringing the banks of
the stream, where it spread out over the meadow
in a dozen different channels. One of our men
wanted to stop and take up a homestead there,
but one of our guards said: ‘Too much plenty
snow in winter,” and after quenching our thirst
at the creek we passed on. Another turn
brought us to the base of a steep, bare, stony

mountain. Skirting this and climbing over some big rocks we suddenly came

into a lovely, grassy country. Like a prairie in summer, every variety of flower
seemed to bloom and blossom in the grass; the place was ablaze with red, blue,
yellow and white. We must have passed several hundred acres of it, and every
here and there a rippling stream ran through it. The place was a perfect
‘Paradise, and we stood in the bright, warm sunshine thankful to’ get out of the
dark valley from which we had just come. We pushed onward until evening,
when we camped under Sentinel Rock, about a mile from the divide which
separated us from the valley beyond. After supper, while smoking our pipes
and telling stories, suddenly the mountain skies seemed to be alive with men
whistling to one another; when one would turn sharp around only to hear
another and shriller “Whew!” on the other side; and soon we saw lots of animals,

about the size of a fox, with long, bushy tails, running about from rock to rock, .

sometimes lying down, but more often sitting bolt up, erect, like a ferret. We

shot a couple of small ones that night and afterward shot several more, larger
ones. Campbell called them whistling dogs and declared they were good to
eat, but the smell was enough for us. Their odor is peculiar, but not fragrant.

They have two long teeth in front, like a beaver, and feet shaped almost like

 
- squirrel’s feet. I believe their right name is mountain beaver. Wherever we
went afterward in the mountains, as long as there was grass, we saw these
whistling dogs, as we got to call them. I liked to see them; they seemed to
make the place cheerful and lively, and were very amusing to watch. In winter
they have long burrows under the snow and their coats get a dark gray; in
summer they are yellow. Their skins should make good fur, and I think would
pay for being trapped in the winter months.

Ss
on"

Something About [)oths.

@Y little sister Allie found a chrysalis one day last fall, and brought
(e it into the house. It was a long, curious-looking thing, and we
5 examined it carefully and finally laid it away on top of the clock
in the dining-room, and forgot all about it. When the clock was
dusted Anna always put it back, not knowing what it was, but thinking it was
something she mustn’t throw away.

One Sunday in February we had all been to church, except Rob, who had
a cold, and Allie, who was too little. When we got home Allie was dancing up
and down, and Rob was so excited he could only shout: “Look there! look!”
We looked, and there on top of the clock was calmly sitting one of the most
beautiful moths we had ever seen. Its wings were gold and brown and black
and other colors, and it was over four inches from tip to tip of its wings.

We were all so excited we could scarcely eat our dinners. By and by it
spread out its wings and went ona voyage of discovery around the room, we five
children all following after; until it finally litona geranium plant inthe window.
It flew about a good deal during the afternoon, but came so near hitting the
stove-pipe and burning itself that we finally caged it under a large wire cover.
We fed it sweetened water, and it put out its tongue and ate several times.

We kept it for two days, but on the third day it refused to fly when we
took the wire cover away, and also would not eat; so, as we couldn't bear to
see it starve to death, we mercifully chloroformed it, and we have its body yet,
perched on the hanging basket. We think it came from a tomato-worm, as it
was found in the tomato-patch. We should like to know its name. Mary B.

That is a pretty story, and reminds me of a small, white butterfly which I
saw hatched from a chrysalis in March, and which was alive and doing well
when a week old. It was an object of great interest to the whole household,
but what became of it I never heard.

Now let us hear from some one else.

  

—PHEBE BIRD.
 

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the land is below the

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places they are
built of stone.
They plant trees
on the dykes of
earth, and the
roots keep the
water from
e the

m

washin
away.

On many

dykes
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ing out the water

from the inside
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In some

canals in Hol-
land.

of the cities
canals are used
asstreets. Boats
go all over the
country. Agreat
many people

great

Ca

their
whole lives on

spend

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water. Our little
ones there are often born, brought up and spend their days in boats.

The whole family of the boatman eat and sleep in the little cabin. The
children play about the deck. The Dutch women are very neat, and they keep
the cabin as nice asa parlor. The space is small on the boat, but the home is
just as it would be on the land. The growing plants and pussy eating her
milk seem to be odd sights on a boat.

Some of the vessels go out to sea. The family goes with them. The
fisherman often has his wife and children on board. . The mother
of the little. ones has to work like a man. She helps catch the fish and
land them. Sometimes mamma has to steer the boat. Sometimes she and
the boys have. to drag the boat with a rope while papa steers. In Holland dogs
have to work for their living. They are harnessed to small carts or wagons.
They draw the milk, butter and cheese, fruit and vegetables to market. The
farmer's wife usually goes with them and sells the load in the city. I have
seen carts and wagons drawn by from one to four dogs. Sometimes half a
dozen of the little ones take a ride for pleasure.

The children in Holland, as in America and England, are very fond of
flying kites. The country is flat and the winds are steady. The boys and girls
of the poorer classes wear wooden shoes. They are heavy and clumsy and
make a clumping noise when the wearer walks on the floor or pavement. Little
girls wear caps like grandmothers.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 
©randmother’s ©hristmas Gree.

OW busy the children were, knitting
and sewing
For grandmother’s Christmas-tree!
There were lace caps and wristers
and woolen shoes growing
Into beautiful objects to see!

 

It was the notion of Susie, the youngest of all,

That the surprise should be grandma’s this
year;

‘‘She’s such a nice lady, in such a nice shawl,

And her footsteps are trembling and queer!

“She’s got bonbons that nobody scolds me
for eating,

And dolls that ave tiny and stout,

Which she gives me when somebody else
has been treating

Me badly!’ Sue lisped, with a pout.

So it soon was decided to accept these rea-
sons

Why grandma should have this great honor;

And her presents were made on the sly at
all seasons

With loving delight by each donor.

Dear grandma was dressed in silken array,

When the bright Christmas Eve had come
round;

And the doors flung aside, lo! out shot a ray

From each twig on the huge fir’s dark ground!

And presents—they dangled in crowds every-
where, ;
Till it looked like a fairy’s bazar;
And the children cried out, with pride in
their air:
“This fine tree is for you, grandmamma!”

Then grandmother stared, and grandmother

laughed,

And she courtesied in old-fashioned style,

And she piped: “I declare, I believe I’ve
gone daft,

Or have fallen to dreaming awhile!

 

“Well, well, little pets, I’ll accept the bright
tree,
That shall light me far on my old way;
And now take your presents, which I hope
will be
Worthy children so kind and so gay!”

So down sat old grandma inher high-backed
old chair;

But they brought to her gift after gift,

With many a speech and well-wishing prayer,

Till her treasures she scarcely could lift.

“For nobody else,” cried the children in glee,

“Can have presents at this Christmas-tide!

Papa says perhaps that at New Year’s there’ll
be

Something for us!” (Their hope they can’t
hide).

“But, grandma, you have been so kein and
so sweet,

And asked nothing of us at all,

That no wonder we gave you these presents
so neat— .

Are you sure that you've quite seenthem all?”

And up the old lady got then with a look

That shone as a girl’s for delight;

And raising both hands, which like autumn
leaves shook,

She blessed them on left and on right,

The effect upon Sue, of the blessing, was this,

That she sang out a nursery song,

And danced down the room with a face full
of bliss,

While the others all scampered along;

And round the tall tree they joined hands in
a ring,
And capered and crowed full of glee;
Their kind thoughts had made such a capital
thing
Of their gay Christmas ye: as you see,
—Rose HawTHorne Larurop,
@he Puffin.

HAT a queer looking little bird this is! It is called the puffin,
and rightly it is named, for its head seems puffed out until it is
a good deal too large for its body. Its wings are short and the
bird is not much of a flyer, but what he lacks in this he more
than makes up in his ability to dive and swim. Were you to
visit the island home of these birds you would find on every crag a puffin, at

the entrance of every
hole another, and
though the sea would
be filled with them
their burrows would
be alive with young
birds of different ages
and sizes. The air
would be alive with
them, each one hold-
ing a small fish by
the head; the island would be honeycombed with underground passages, over
which you could not walk without danger of falling through at every step. From
beneath your feet would come the sound of young puffins like voices from the
grave, and an odor almost unbearable. They areclosely allied to auks, which also
are very numerous in the Polar regions. Although the puffin has been brought
into lower latitudes he seems unable to exist outside of his home among the ice
and snow, and there we must go to find himas heis. How wonderful that these
birds can exist in such countless numbers amidst the ice and snow of the Arctic
regions!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 
 

   
  
  
 

PEASANT once went out with a pair of oxen to plough. As
soon as they were in the fields the horns of the two naimals
began to grow, and kept on growing all day, till by the time they
had returned home they had grown too large to get in at the
stable door. Luckily a butcher came by, to whom the oxen were
soon made over, and the bargain settled in thismanner. The peasant agreed
to carry to the butcher a quart of rape seed, and for every seed the butcher
promised to pay a dollar, which was a first-rate bargain, although payment for
the oxen was included in it.

The peasant went home, and very soon returned with the rape seed for
the butcher, but on the way he dropped one seed. The butcher counted the
seeds, and paid for them justly; but if the peasant had not lost that one seed
he would have had another dollar. : However, he set out to return home quite
satisfied, but on reaching the place where the seed had dropped what was
his surprise to find that it had taken root and grown into a tree, the top of
which reached to heaven!

Then thought the peasant, ‘I should like to have a peep at what they are
about up there, and see what the angels are doing, and here is a splendid
opportunity.” So heclimbed up the tree, and, peeping in, saw the angels at
work threshing oats, and stood watching them for some time.

Presently, as he stood there, he felt the tree on which he stood totter
under him. He looked through the branches, and saw that they were cutting
it down. “If I should fall from such a terrible height as this it would be ter-
rible,” he thought; and in his trouble he scarcely knew what to do.

There seemed, however, nothing better than take a piece of cord which lay
near the heaps of chaff, and let himself down by it. But before he did so he’
laid hold of a hatchet and a flail which the angels had left behind them, and,
tying them both to the rope, slid gently down from the tree. When he reached
the earth, however, he sunk into a hole so deep that it was fortunate he hada
hatchet with him, for with it he was able to cut stepsin the sideof the hole and

_ climb once more into daylight.

He took care to carry the hatchet and the flail with him, that no one might
doubt his story when he related it.

XX
Boys [M\ay \Mhistle.

   

A RANDMA GOFF said a curious | “Boys may whistle, but girls may not.”
5 YF. thing— A whistle’s a song with the noise knocked
LM “Boys may whistle but girls must out;
Para sing.” Strayed off somewhere down ‘in the throat,
That’s the very thing I heard her say Everything lost but the changeful note.

To Kate, no longer than yesterday. ° ;
eed e ee a So if the boys.can whistle and do it well,

“Boys may whistle.” Of course they may, | Why cannot girls, will somebody tell?
If they pucker their lips the proper way, Why can’t they do what a boy can do?
But for the life of me I can’t see That is the thing I should like to know.

Why Kate can't whistle as well as me. ;
I went to father and asked him why

“Boys may whistle, but girls must sing.” | Girls couldn’t whistle as well as I.
Now I call that a curious thing. And he said: “The reason that girls must sing
If boys can whistle, why can’t girls too? Is because a girl’s a sing—ular thing.”

It’s the easiest thing in the world to do ‘
And grandma laughed till I knew she’d ache,

First you do that, and then you do this— When I said I thought it all a mistake.

Just like you were fixing up for a kiss. “Never mind, little man,” I heard her say;
It’s a very poor girl, that’s all I say, “They will make you whistle enough some
Who can’t make out to do that way. day.”

     
   

 
 

   
     
 

    

     

 

 
 

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@ fLaithful Mog.

gy ITTLE MAY lived with her parents in a small cottage just outside

3 the village. The railroad track was but a short distance from
her home, and May had often been told not to go near there.
While May was a good little girl in many ways she had one
naughty habit ofrunning off from her home. Her mamma had
tried to break her of this, but with no success.

In all her wanderings her constant companion was her good
dog, Carlo, a large Newfoundland, which had been given to
her by her father when she was three years old.

Carlo seemed to know that May ought not to go away from home, and
when she started he always tried his best to bring her back. He would grasp
her dress in his mouth and pull, as much as to say: ‘Don’t go, May, but stay
and play with me.” Sometimes he succeeded, and then his joyful bark rang
out. At such times May's mamma knew that her little girl was playing safely

   

in the yard.

One bright, sunny morning May went out to play with Carlo and her
dollies, but becoming weary, and noticing that the gate was open, she passed
through and went down the road. Old Carlo was in great trouble. He placed
himself in her way and barked, but to no purpose; little May was bound to have
her way. May wandered on, picking flowers by the road-side, singing gayly
to herself, until she reached the railroad track. Here she sat down and began
to play with the pebbles which she found there. Tired with her walk, she soon
fell asleep, and lay down upon the track, unconscious of any danger. Carlo lay
by her side, watching her carefully, when the roar of a coming train was heard.
Carlo sprang to his feet; the train came dashing around the curve at full speed.
Little May slept on. Carlo barked as loud as he could and did his. utmost to
stop the train. The engineer saw the little girl, reversed the engine, put on the
brakes and closed his eyes, for he could not bear to see the little thing crushed
to pieces. Suddenly Carlo turned, grasped little May in his mouth and threw
her off the track. Little May was unhurt, but alas! poor Carlo was caught by
the passing train and crushed todeath. Poorlittle May went home crying with
terror, and at last succeeded in telling her mamma that poor Carlo was dead.
May’s papa went to the track, brought back the remains of poor Carlo and
buried him beneath the apple-tree in the yard. Long and lovingly little May
attended his grave; flowers were planted upon it and watered daily. But you
may be sure that little May was cured of her habit of running away.
 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

ROVER TO THE RESCUE.
@he @euids.

“ENTURIES ago there flourished in Gaul and Britain a sect of
Pagan priests named Druids. Wehave no complete history
of them, but in England and France are many relics of their life
in the shape of ruins of their rude stone temples. One of these

@ which has attracted much attention is foundin a deep, rocky glen
in London. A picture of itis before you.

Czesar, the Roman general who invaded Britain in the early part of the
Christian era, has given the clearest account of themthatwe have. He tells us
that they attended worship, performed sacrifices and explained matters of re-

ligion. They fixed re-
wards and punishment,
settled nearly all pub-
lic and private punish-
ments, and woe beun-
tothe man who dared to
dispute their decrees,
whether his station was
high or low. Many of
the youths af that day
gathered around them
for the sake of educa-
tion. These priests en-
joyed the highest honor
in the nation. They
had one chief who pos-
sessed full authority over them. Upon his death he was succeeded by the
most prominent member of the order. If there were several equally promi-
nent the chief was elected by the remainder. Notwithstanding their power
in settling quarrels between individuals and communities the election of the
chief sometimes led to war among themselves.

They assembled at some sacred place once a year, and thence journeyed
all who had disputes or questions which they wished to settle.

They took no part in war; they paid no taxes, and were not called upon
for military services or any public burden. It was these privileges, undoubt-
edly, which led many to join them.

It is said that a great part of the education given the youth of that day,

 

 

 

 
 

 

 

by the Druids, consisted in committing to memory a large number of verses.
They did not use writing. In fact, they considered it an unholy thing to com-
mit their knowledge to writing. They believed men’s souls after death did
not perish, but passed from one individual to another.

They lived mostly in groves of oak timber, the oak being with them a
sacred tree. If mistletoe was found upon the oak it added to its sacredness,
as the mistletoe was considered the highest of all plants, an antidote for poi-
sons, anda cure for almost all diseases.

They knew something of astronomy, but little of other branches of know-
ledge.

For some reason the Romans took a strong dislike to them, possibly be-
cause they refused to pay taxes and to perform public services. Whatever
was the cause the Romans took active steps to destroy them, and with success.
Nevertheless their superstition continued to hold power over many of the peo-
ple, and there is little doubt that even to this day they have an influence over
the descendants of the Celtic tribes, among whom the Druids flourished.

 
AQ Had Story.

~/ H me!” said the sponge. ‘Dear! dear! dear! well-a-day!”

‘‘Whatisthe matter?” askedthebath-tub. ‘Have
you been squeezed too hard, or has the nurse rubbed
soap on you again? I know soap never agrees with
you.”

“Tam rather exhausted by the squeezing, I con-
fess, replied the sponge; “but it wasnot for that I
sighed. Iam gradually getting used to these daily

wa?) tortures.

“But I was thinking about the past; about my beau-
tiful home, from which I was so cruelly torn, and about the happy,
happy life I led there.”

“Tell me about it,” said the bath-tub. ‘You have told me before, but I
always find it interesting. My home was in a tin-shop, as you are aware. The
BOrIeLy was good, but it was rather a dull place, on the whole. You lived, you
say’ —

“On the coast of Syria,” said the sponge, with a sigh—‘‘the coast of beau-
tiful Syria. There is a tiny bay, where the shore is bold androcky. The rocks
are bare above the water, but down below they are covered with lovely plants,
and fringed with gay mosses, beautiful to behold. The bottom of the sea is
covered with silver sand, and over it move the crimson and gold colored jelly-
fish, the scarlet star-fish, and a thousand other brilliant creatures, making the
neighborhood always attractive and delightful. On a certain ledge of oer
close by the bottom, I lived, as happy an nial as could be found in the Med-
iterranean Sea.”

“What do you mean?” interrupted the nail-brush, which was new, and very
ignorant. “You, an animal? I don’t believe it. If your back were bone, and
your hair pig-bristles, like mine, you might at least call yoursclt an animal
product; but you have no back that I can see, nor hair either.”

“You are extremely rude,” said the sponge. “But you know no better,
and ignorance should always be pitied rather than blamed. Iwas an animal,
my. young friend, though now, alas! I am only the skeleton of one.

“T lived, as I said, a very happy life on my rocky ledge. I never moved
from it. I had no occasion to do so, even if [had been provided with legs, as
many animals are. I never had any fancy fora roving life. To draw in the
warm, delicious water through the thousand small holes and canals of my

  
  
 
frame, and spout it out again through my large holes, was my chief occupation,
and one of which I was never weary. The water was full of tiny creatures of
all kinds, and these formed my food, and gave me always plenty to eat. In
the spring I was always busy with my maternal duties. I brought out hun-
dreds of lovely little, round eggs, yellow and white,—the prettiest eggs you
ever saw. Ina short time they put out tiny feelers, a sort of fringe of waving
lashes, like those things
on the nurse’s eyes; as
soon as they appeared
I knew my babies were
ready tocome out; and,
sure enough, they soon
broke through the egg-
covering, and, waving
their lashes, swam out
into the sea.

“At first they
stayed near me, de-
lighting my heart with
their pretty tricks; but
very soon they felt the
need of homes of their
own, and went off to
fix themselves on rocks
or coral-trees, and be-
come, in their turn,
full grown sponges,
like myself. I could
not complain, for I had
left my own mother in
the same way. I never
saw any of them again,
except one dear child,
who made his home on
the shell of a largecrab. sina
He grew finely; and became a noble sponge; but the crab never seemed to
mind him in the least, and carried him about with him wherever he went. In
this way he often passed near my ledge, and as the crab was a friendly and
sensible fellow we often had a pleasant chat together.

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“One day, one dreadful, dreadful day, I was talking thus with my son and
his landlord, when suddenly something huge anddark was seen above us, swim-
ming slowly downward through the clear water. At first] paidno attention to
it, Supposing it to be a shark, or some other large fish; but as it drew nearer I
saw that it was no fish, but a strange and horrible monster, the like of which
had never been seen under the sea. It had four long arms, something like those
of a cuttle-fish, only much less graceful, and divided at the end into five claws,
or feelers. (I have since learned that two of these arms are called legs, and
that the feelers are fingers and toes.) It had gleaming eyes, and in one claw
it had something bright and shining. Ah! it makes me cold to think of it. To
my horror the monster fixed his shining eyes on me, and swam directly toward _
my ledge. The crab scuttled off with my son on his back, and I was left alone
and helpless. I saw one of the long arms extended; the five feelers clutched
me in their grasp. I shrank down, and clung with all my might to the rock:
but in vain. The shining thing in the monster’s other claw was slipped under
me. It cut my delicate fibres; I felt them give way one by one; and at last,
with one terrible cut and a violent wrench, I was torn from my peaceful home;
torn from it, alas! forever!

“T was thrown into a bag full of other sponges, which the monster had slung
- about his middle; and then he pursued his path of destruction. I will pass
briefly over the dark days that followed—the drying in the sun, till all the life
was dried out of me; the fearful squeezing, with thousands of other wretches
like myself, into wooden cases; the voyage over seas; finally the exposure of
my bleached and miserable skeleton in the window of a druggist’s shop. All
of these things are too painful to be dwelt upon, and, as you know, I am now
resigned to my lot. I find in you a sympathizing friend. I have water given
me (though of very inferior quality) morning and night, and, were it not for the
soap and the squeezing, I should make nocomplaint. But often, as I hang
idly in my wire basket, my thoughts go back to my own dear home under the
Syrian shores; and I long for a draught of the warm, delicious water, for the
cool retirement of my rocky ledge, and for the sight of my dear son, riding

gracefully about on the back of his crab.”
—Laura E, RICHARDS.

 
G@he Pare and the P\edgehog.

T was a beautiful morning, about harvest time, the buckwheat was in
flower, the sun shining in the heavens, and the morning breeze
waving the golden corn-fields, while the lark sang blithely in the
clear, blue sky, and the bees were buzzing about the flowers. The
villagers seemed all alive; many of them were dressed in their best
clothes, hastening to the fair.

It was a lovely day, and all nature seemed happy, even to a
little hedgehog, who stood at his own door. He had his arms
folded, and was singing as merrily as little hedgehogs can do on a
pleasant morning. While he thus stood amusing himself, his little wife was
washing and dressing the children, and he thought he might as well go and see
how the field of turnips was getting on; for, as he and his family fed upon
them, they appeared like his own property. No sooner said than done. He
shut the house door after him and started off.

He had not gone farther than the little hedge bordering the turnip field
when he met a hare, who was on his way to inspect the cabbages, which he also
considered belonged to him. When the hedgehog saw the hare he wished him
“Good morning!” very pleasantly.

But the hare, who was a grand gentteman in his way, and not very good-
tempered, took no notice of the hedgehog’s greeting, but said in a most imper-
tinent manner: “How is it that you are running about the fields so early this
morning?”

“Tam taking a walk,” said the hedgehog.

“Taking a walk,” cried the hare, with a laugh; “I don’t think your legs are
much suited for walking.”

This answer made the hedgehog very angry. He could bear anything but
a reference to his bandy legs, so he said: “ You consider your legs are better
than mine, I suppose?”

‘Well, I rather think they are,” replied the hare.

‘I should like to prove it,” said the hedgehog. “I will wager anything
that if we were to run a race I should beat.”

“That is a capital joke,” cried the hare, ‘to think you could beat me with
your bandy legs. However, if you wish it, I have no objection to try. What
will you bet?”

‘A golden louis d’or and a bottle of wine.”

“Agreed,” said the hare: “and we may as well begin at once.”

   
“No, no,” said the hedgehog, “not in such a hurry as that. I must ge
home first and get something to eat. In half an hour I will be here again.”

The hare agreed to wait, and away went the hedgehog, thinking to himself:
“The hare trusts in his long legs, but I will conquer him. He thinks himself
a very grand gentleman, but he is only a stupid fellow, after all, and he will
have to pay for his pride.” .

On arriving at home, the hedgehog said to his wife: ‘‘ Wife, dress yourself
as quickly as possible; you must go to the field with me.”

‘‘What for?” she asked.

«Well, I have made a bet with the hare of a louis d’or and a bottle of
wine that I will: beat him in a race, which we are going to run.”

“Why, husband,” cried Mrs. Hedgehog, with a scream, “what are you:
thinking of? Have you lost your senses?”

“Hold your noise, ma’am,” said the hedgehog, “and don’t interfere with
my affairs. What do you know about a man’s business? Get ready at once to
go with me.” 3

What could Mrs. Hedgehog say after this? She could only obey and fol-
low her husband, whether she liked it or not. As they walked along, he said to
her: “Now, pay attention to what I say. You see that large field? Welt,
we are going to race across it. The hare will race in one furrow, and I in
another. All you have to do is to hide yourself in the furrow at the opposite
end of the field from which we start, and when the hare comes up to you, pop
up your head and say: ‘Here I ai.”

As they talked, the hedgehog and his wife reached the place in the field
where he wished her to stop, and then went back and found the hare at the
starting-place, ready to receive him.

“Do you really mean it?” he asked.

“Yes, indeed,” replied the hedgehog, “I am quite ready.”

“Then let us start at once,” and each placed himself in his furrow as. the
hare spoke. The hare counted ‘‘One, two, three,” and started like a whirlwind
across the field. The hedgehog, however, only rana few steps, and then popped
down in the furrow and remained still.

When the hare, at full speed, reached the end of the field the hedgehog’s
wife raised her head and cried: ‘‘Here I am.”

The hare stood still in wonder, for the wife was so like her husband that
he thought itmustbehim. “ There is something wrong about this,” he thought
“However, we'll have another try.” So he turned and flew across the field at
such a pace that his ears floated behind him.
The hedgehog’s wife, however, did not move, and, when the hare reached
_the other end, the husband was there, and cried: “Here I am.”

The hare was half beside himself with vexation, and he cried: “One more
_ try, one more.”

“T don’t mind,” said the hedgehog. “I will go on as long as you like.”

Upon this the hare set off running, and actually crossed the field seventy-
three times; and atone end the husband said: “Here am IJ,” and at the other
end the wife said the same. But at the seventy-fourth run the hare’s strength
came to an end, and he fell to the ground and owned himself beaten.

The hedgehog won the louis d’or and the bottle of wine, and, after calling
his wife out of the furrow, they went home together in very good spirits, toenjoy
it together; and, if they are not dead, they are living still.

The lesson to be learnt from this story is, first, that however grand a
person may think himself, he should never laugh at others whom he considers
inferior until he knows what they can do; and, secondly, that when a man
chooses a wife, he should take her from the class to which he himself belongs;
and if he isa hedgehog she should be one also.

 
@ Pip in the rook.

PNSe7| HEN childhood’s scenes before me
rise—
At twilight oft they will,—
Of all my memory quickest flies
To the brook beneath the hill
I see it sparkling on its way
Beneath the summer sun,
I hear it singing still its lay—
Journey and lay ne’er done.

 

Again a bare-footed boy Iam,
With ruddy cheeks and tanned,

Again I drive the wayward cows
Down to the pasture land;

Again I hear the piping quails
Amid the rustling corn,

Or pause to see the thrush’s nest

Again I loiter slowly home
Beside the rippling brook,

Stop at the old-time resting place,
All in a quiet nook.

And kneeling on the reedy brink,
Icool my heated brow—

Sweet memories, like summer rain,
Come and refresh e’en now.

Could I but tread that path again,
As once in boyhood’s glee,

Could I but lave within the brook,
And shake its bright drops free—

If memory can so cool my brow,
And ease this throbbing pain,

A dip beneath its sparkling wave
Would make me young again.

Hid in the spreading thorn. —S. 1. M.
Ce

GSS

Ghe Homeless Singer.

N acold, dark night, when the wind was biowing hard, Conrad, a worthy

 

   

} citizen of a little town in Germany, sat playing his flute, while Ursula,
a)

| his wife, was preparing supper. They heard a voice singing outside.
Tears filled the good man’s eyes as he said: ‘‘ What a fine, sweet voice!
What a pity it should be spoiled by being tried in such weather!”

“] think it is a voice of a child. Let us open the door and see,” said his
_ wife, who had lost a little boy not long before.

Conrad opened the door and saw a ragged child, who said, ‘Charity, good
sir, for Christ’s sake!”

“Come in, my little one,” said he; ‘you shall rest with me for the night.”

The boy said, “Thank God!” and entered. He was given some supper
and then he told them that he was the son of a poor miner, and wanted to b
a priest. He wandered about and sang, and lived on the money people gav
him. His kind friends would not let him talk much, but sent him to bed
When he was asleep they looked in upon him and were so pleased that the
determined to keep him, if he was willing. |

They sent him to school, and afterward he entered a monastery. Ther
he found a Bible, which he read, and from which he learned the way of life
He became the great preacher and reformer, Martin Luther.

 
 

HAPPY COUNTRY BOYS,
 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

@A Pifle-|Mateh.

   

|HE soldiers at the fort where Hal lived had a rifle-
| match. They had their targets set up on a long, level
piece of ground near the fort. Each soldier tried to see
how many times he could hit the center of the target.
The one who could hit it the greatest number of times
was to get a gold medal.

Hal went with his mother to see them shoot. All
the ladies who lived at the fort went. There were
some visitors there, and they went also.

It was a very gay sight. The ladies all wore their.
finest dresses and the officers their uniforms. The
targets were bright-colored and flags were flying.

The rifles would go crack, crack, crack! At first Hal kept close by his
mamma’s side. He was just a little afraid, But pretty soon he got so inter-
ested that he forgot all about being timid.

Sometimes one of the men would hit the target right in the center. Then
 

every one would shout and wave their handkerchiefs. Hal never could find
his handkerchief in time to wave it, so he would clap his hands.

After the match was finished the men did some fancy shooting. They
held their rifles in-a great many queer ways. Sometimes they would fire from
‘under one arm, sometimes from over their shoulder. Hal wished that he could
. shoot like the men. He resolved that when he grew older he would practice
shooting until he could hit the center of the target.

The men did not seem to get tired of shooting, for they kept it up until it
grew. so dark they could not see the targets.

Hal was so tired that he had to be carried to the fort on his papa’s

shoulder
—Mrs. BusyHAND.

A
Siw 8@_ wv
~~ =e
am, aoe!

hat [P\ary Cave.

» HE gave an hour of patient care to her little baby sister, who was
cutting teeth.

- p She gave a string, and a crooked pin, and a great deal of good
advice, to the three-year-old brother who wanted to play at fishing.

She gave Ellen, the maid, a precious hour to go and visit her sick baby at
home, for Ellen was a widow, and left her child with its grandmother while she
worked to get bread for both.

She could not have seen them very often if our Mary had not offered to
attend the door while she was away.

But this is not all that Mary gave. She dressed herself so neatly and
looked so bright and kind and obliging, that she gave her mother a thrill of
pleasure whenever she caught sight of the young, pleasant face.

She wrote’a letter to her father, who was absent on business, and gave
patient attention to a long story by her grandmother, and when it was ended
made the old lady happy by a good-night kiss.

Thus she -had given valuable presents to six people, in one day, and yet
she had not a cent.

 

 
Jelly fish.

@ HILE all of our little readers are acquainted with many of
the living creatures upon the earth, we wonder if they are
as well informed upon the curious and interesting living
things which live beneath the waves of the ocean. In fact

the animal life of water is far more wonderful than that of

the earth. In the ocean are found living creatures of all
sizes, from those so small that they cannot be seen with the naked eye, to
monsters so large that we can hardly believe they exist. Someare wonderfully
beautiful, alive with all possible colors and tints of colors, while others have
the most unsightly and ugly forms. Perhaps, among the most interesting of
these animals living in the water, are Jelly-Fish, as they are called, of which
there are a great many different species, and yet, each specie keeps itself sep-
arate from the others, and millions upon millions of a kind are found together.
So numerous are they in some places that they not only crowd the surface
of the sea, but the water is full of them from the depth of six feet to the
surface.

The Jelly-Fish are so called from the spongy nature of their bodies. In
calm weather they come to the upper surface of the sea in great numbers, but
they are so delicate they cannot stand the dashing, tumbling waves. When
the water becomes rough they quickly descend to the quiet ocean depths,
They do this by letting the umbrella or mushroom-like top of their bodies fal
down the side of their tentacles, in the manner of the one shown in the picture.
These tentacles, as they are called, are the arms of the Jelly-Fish and are used
just as people use their arms to convey food to their mouth, but the mouth of -
the Jelly-Fish is in a strange place, being underneath the body. The stomach
is under the umbrella-like top. There is one specie, also, which has no mouth
whatever, food being absorbed through the branching vessels. The Jelly-Fish
is fortunate in having a great many eyes, and these are placed around the rim
of the umbrella-like top. The Jelly-Fish are sometimes called Sea-Nettles,
because when they touch human flesh they leave a keen, stinging pain, similar
to that one feels when stung by nettles, only it is sharper and with more of a
tingling sensation. The feeling is very disagreeable and increases until the
whole nervous system is affected, sometimes causing a pain to dart through the
body as if a rifle ball had passed there. People who have come in contact with
Jelly-Fish have been greatly alarmed, sometimes believing death would follow,
though this is seldom the case. This uncomfortable feeling may last for

  
 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

THER JELLY FISH,
several days, and you may be sure that people who bathe in the sea and
meet the Jelly-Fish once are very careful to keep out of his way after-
ward.

Another name the Jelly-Fish bear, and a very appropriate one, too, is that
of Sea-Lantern. They are so called because they have the power to send out
a light which looks beautiful in the night, and which always attracts the at-
tention of mariners when they come in sight of the shining object. If you can
imagine the surface of a large body of water covered with millions upon mil-
lions of fire-flies, each one sending out his little light, you can imagine faintly
thé beauty of the ocean when lighted up by the Jelly-Fish. When the sunlight
strikes upon these fish they reflect all the colors and tints of the rainbow, yet
such a sight is not so grand and imposing as when viewed in the darkness and
stillness of the night. It is, indeed, a wonderful sight to watch the silent
waters shining with Jelly-Fish in the night and contrast it with the surrounding
gloom. It also fills one with rapture to stand at mid-day and watch these
wonderful creatures pressing in great shoals through the clear waters, trailing
behind them their delicate fringes of waving cilia and rolling gently over as if in

excess of happiness.
~<a

(ong Argo.

WO IN her lap gran’ma did hol’ me;
Smoothed my apron down—just so;

 

She’s a May queen—long ago;
W’en they had May queens, you know,
Long ago, long, l-o-n-g ago.

Gran’ma’s hair is thin, an’ so white,
An’ her face is—puckered so;

But she’s sweeter, by enuff sight,
Than some younger folks I know.
Don’t you see how dandeli’ns blow—
Turn their gold all into snow?
Gran’ma’s hair—it done jes’ so,
Long ago, long, l-o-n-g ago.

Hair was golden, like the sunlight,
Eyes wuz blue, an’ cheeks wuz red.
An’ her skin wuz smooth an’ so white—
That is jes’ w’at gran’ma said.

All in white from tip to toe,
She was May queen, long ago,
Long ago, l-o-n-g, long ago.

Jes’ like fairies in green bowers,

Singin’, dancin’ on the green,
Pickin’ out the brightest flowers
Fur to deck their little queen,
Lads and lassies, ’round they go,
Dancin’, singin’, bowin’ low,
Long ago, long, l-o-n-g ago.

Gran’ma stops. “Im tired,” says she;
“Now go away, dearie.” An’ I go—
But it’s queer what she can see now,
Lookin’ far off an’ sighin’ so;
An’ I hear her whisperin’ low;
“Polly, Betsey, John an’ Jo
Gone, all gone, so long ago,
Long ago, long, !-o-n-g ago.”
—By Lrssie C. BAER
HE largest volcano in the world is found in the Sandwich Islands.
This is called ““Mauna Loa.” It rises nearly fourteen thousand
feet above the level of the sea and looks like an immense dome.

The crater of this volcano is two and one-half miles in
length by one in width. This can be considered as divided up
into a number of smaller craters. he most noted one is
called “Kilanea” and is situated on a plain far above the sea

level. This is nine miles in circumference and fourteen hundred feet deep.

The lava at
the outer edge is
cooled to a dis-
tance of | several
hundred feet. Dur-
ing the day the}
bottom of this cra-
ter looks like a
heap of smoulder-
ing ruins, but at
night it shows two
immense pools of
a cherry-red liquid
which illuminates
the entire bottom
and flows in all di-
rections like water.
There are also a
large number of small craters throwing out stones, ashes, lava, smoke and
flame. We visited this at night and were almost blinded and. suffocated by
sulphurous steam which came from the many craters. Our picture is a striking
one of this great crater, though nothing can properly represent a boiling
spouting lake of fire.

Several times while trying to sketch this crater our artist was compelled
to move on account of an eruptionnear him. In one instance, hearing a noise
close at hand, he hastily ran and got out of the way just in time to see a par-
ticular rock upon which he had been standing plunge into the fiery mass
below.

  

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 
Gle f€ox and the Geese.

FOX came once to a meadow, where a herd of fine fat geese
were enjoying themselves. ‘‘Ah,” he said, laughing, “I am juse
in time. They are so close together that I can come and fetch
them one after another easily ”
The geese, when they saw him, began to cackle with fear,
sprang up, and, with much complaining and murmuring, begged for their lives.
The fox, however, would not listen, and said, ‘There is no hope of mercy—
you must die.”
At last one of them took heart, and said: “It would be very hard for us
poor geese to lose our young, fresh lives so suddenly as this; but if you will

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

grant us only one favor, afterward we will place ourselves in a row, so that you
may choose the fattest and best.”

‘“‘And what is this favor?” asked the fox.

“Why, that we may have one hour to pray in before we die.”

“Well, that is only fair,” replied the fox; “it isa harmless request. Pray
away, then, and I will wait for you.”

Immediately they placed themselves in a row, and began to pray after
their own fashion, which, however, was a most deafening and alarming cackle.
In fact, they were praying for their lives, and so efficaciously that they were
heard at the farm, and, long before the hour had ended, the master and his ser-
vants appeared in the field to discover what was the matter, and the fox, ina
terrible fright, quickly made his escape, not, however, without being seen,
“We must hunt that fox to-morrow,” said the master, as they drove the
geese home to safe quarters, And so the cunning fox was outwitted by a

goose,

bs

 

Ss)

| WE
@& family Mrum Corps.

  

LITTLE man bought him a big
Ah brass drum;
Y 9 Boom—boom—boom!
oleed “Who knows,” said he, “when a
war will come?”
Boom—boom—boom!
“Tm not at all frightened, you understand.
But, if I am called on to fight for my land,
I want to be ready to play in the band.”
Boom—boom—boom!

fle got all his children little snare drums;
Boom—tidera—da—boom!
And they’d practice as soon as they’d fin-
ished their sums.
Boom—tidera—da—boom!
“We're just like our papa!” in chorus said
they,
“Andif we should ever get into the fray,
Why, it’s safer to thump than to fight any
day!”
Boom—tidera—da—boom!

And, showing her spirit, the little man’s
wife—
Boom—tidera—da—boom!
With some of her pin-money purchased a
fife;
Boom—tidera—da—boom!
And, picking out tunes that were not very
hard,
They'd play them while marching around
the back yard,
Without for one’s feelings the slightest re-
gard,
Boom—tidera—da—boom-a-diddle-dee—
Boom—tidera-da—boom!

2 P

 

The little old parson, who lived next door—
Boom—tidera—da—boom!
Would throw up his hands, as he walked the
floor;
Boom—tidera-da—boom!
“Wont you stop it, lbeg you?” he often said,
“lm trying to think of a text, but instead
The only thing I can get into my head
Is your boom—tidera-da—boom-a-diddle-~
dee—
Boom—tidera-da-——boom

?

All of the people for blocks around—
Boom—tidera—~da—boom!
Kept time at their tasks to the martial
sound;
Boom—tidera-da—boom!
While children to windows and stoops would
fly,
Expecting to see a procession pass by,
And they couldn’t make out why it never

drew nigh,
With its bobom—tidera-da—boom-—a-diddle—
dee—

Boom—tidera—da—boom!

It would seem such vigor would soon abate;
Boom—tidera-da—boom!

But they still keep at it, early and late;
Boom—tidera—-da—boom!

So, if it should be that a war breaks out,

They'll all be ready, I have no doubt,

To help in putting the foe to rout,

With their bbom—tidera-da—boom—
Boom—tideva-da—boom—
Boom—tidera~-da—boom-—a-diddle--dee—
Boom—soom—BOOM!

—MaLcotm Doue.as.
@Q Poll’s Story.

OU needn’t laugh at me just because] am yellow and covered
with tiny cracks and don’t happen tobe dressed like your other
dolls. I know I look funny and old-fashioned to you, but really
my heart is as young as ever it was.

And when your grandmama was a little girl this way of wear-
ing the hair was very fashionable, and it was considered quite

“ vulgar to wear heels on one’s shoes, and so mine were made as
you see, and were thought very genteel, indeed.

I was so happy yesterday, for Miss Martha said that we were to have com-
pany, and she took me out of my box, where I had been laid away for so long
that itis a treat to get out of my paper wrappings.

Her “grand-niece,” she said. So you are her grand-niece! Well! you favor
your grandmama, child. You are very like what she was at your age: the
same yellow hair and laughing mouth, only your eyes are not so blue nor your
skin so fair as hers was. Or aml forgetting? Was it her sister Betsy who
waslight? Yes, it was Betsy; I remember now, your grandmama was quite dark.
How one does forget in seventy years!

Iam a little stiff, you notice, but it’s no wonder, forit is fully twenty years
since I was last out of my box; then, too, we were taught in my time to stand
or sit very straight and stiff, and habits grow very strong upon one, you know.

How well I remember the last time Miss Martha had me out. Twenty
years ago—that was long before you were born, mydear. They gave me to your
Aunt Lucy to play with, I recollect. I don’t like to speak ill of your kinfolk,
child, but really your Aunt Lucy was a very rude girl. She laughed at my
oddly-dressed hair and made fun of my flat feet, and made the most odious
comparisons between me and an ill-bred china doll that she carried; and she
stuck pins into me to such an extent that I assure you I had a pain in my in-
side for hours.

She is a woman now and I understand that she is very well mannered and
gentle, but somehow it always gives me a turn even to think of her.

And your Uncle Rob, your great-uncle 1 mean, he used to tease me too.
He once tied me to the cat’s back and I was terribly frightened. To this day I
am afraid of cats and china dogs.

I know it sounds silly, but Icannot overcome my fear of china dogs. Now
your grandmama had one, a brown and white one, that used to sit upon the
parlor mantel, and he looked very gentle indeed, when, really, he was a most

 

 

 
ferocious beast. I had it froma friend of mine who heard him growl savagely
at the cat worked upon your grandmama’s sampler. My friend fainted with
fright and remained unconscious for fully forty minutes, until she was aroused
by the striking of your great-grandfather’s clock and the whirring of the wheels.
as the heavy weights ran down.

But I was telling you how your great-uncle, Rob, tied me to the cat’s back.
I was wearing a pink muslin frock anda buff pelisse and a tippet that your
grandmama had just finished. I always tried to keep my clothes neat and tidy
and so I was lying quite still upon the shelf, that my new finery should not be-
come mussed.

Robespied meand he called the cat. I can hear his voice now as he called,
‘‘Puss, nice pussy, come here, puss.” Strange how one can recalla voice after
seventy years! Puss came, suspecting no mischief, and in a twinkling Rob had
tied me to herback with a stout piece of pack-thread, and she was tearing
across the yard at such a mad pace that I was breathless with fear.

I think that Rob was frightened when he saw this, for he had meant no harm,
but only to have a bit of sport. Away we flew into the barn and upon the hay-
mow, when the string broke and I felt myself slipping down—down toward the
horses’ manger. My love, I cannot tell you my sensations asI felt the hot
breath of the great monsters, but they only pushed me to one side, where Rob
soon found me.

He carried me back and laidmeon my shelf, but my tippet was lost and my
pelisse torn and ruined; and there was a large ugly crack across my neck; lift
up my gold beads, dear, and you can see it now.

Rob bought these beads as a peace-offering, and your grandmama tied
them on with her own hands. I havenever had them off since then. Be careful,
dear, the silk thread may have become tender with age and it might break easily,
and I should not like anything to happen to them.

It may sound sentimental, but I should like always to keep them on ac-
count of Rob. Poor lad! it must be fifty odd years since he was drowned.

I can’t tell you the story, child, for whenever I think of him such a lump
comes in my throat that it opens the old crack, and I cannot speak at all.

Well! well how I have run on, and really my throat begins to ache, and you
must notice that my voice is growing husky. I dare say it’s because I can’t help
thinking of your great-uncle, dear, but I think I must stop talking now.

Lay me down carefully, child, for Iam not so young as I once was, and 1
feel quite fatigued. There! that will donicely. How gentle youare, my dear,

quite like what your grandmama was seventy years ago.

8 L
@\n |ndian [P\oving.

ARRY’S papa is an officer in the army, so Harry lives in a fort
out on the plains. Hesees a great many queer sights.

One day he saw some Indians moving. Indians live in
wigwams, and do not have any furniture. They do not move
from one wigwam to another. They move wigwam and all

from place to place. They do not have any wagons, so they

have to carry their things on the backs of horses.

gs The Indians rode on horses, with the pappooses on their backs
: and the half-grown children sitting before or behind them. The

skins and blankets belonging ° the wigwams were tied up, and the bundles

  
  
 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

were fastened to the backs of pack-horses. The lodge-poles were tied to the
sides of the horses, so that one end of them dragged on the ground.

The Indians stopped a few hours not a great distance from the fort, so
Hal went out with the soldiers to see them. They were friendly Indians; that
is, they were friendly just then. Perhaps the next time they would see them
the Indians would be ready to fight about something. Hal thought at first
that it would be great fun to live like the Indians, but he soon changed his
mind. When he saw still more of them he was very certain he would not like
it. He was sure he would not like to sleep among such dirty skins and blank-
ets, or to eat such food as they did.

The moving party Hal went to see were cooking their dinner. They had
built fires on the ground. They cooked their meat on sticks over the fire, and
stewed a good many queer things in large earthen pots.

One of the officers told Hal that the Indians were very fond of stewed
puppies. Hal didnot know whether to believe that or not. The Indians all
helped themselves out of the same dish. They seemed to think it quite right
to dip their fingers in and fish out the piece they liked best.

Some of the little Indians were almost pretty. There was one came up
to Hal and looked him over. He was interested in his clothes. After a while
he went away and brought two large feathers for Hal to putin his hat. Hal
stuck them in and laughed. The little Indian laughed, too; but they could
not talk to each other, for neither could understand what the other said. The
Indians stayed near the fort until after dinner, then they moved off toward

their new home.
—Mks. BUSYHAND.

he

f©aithful «“@ld Pon.”

 
 

old horse!
“We'll see his like no more!”
No more will mistress ride be-
hind
While master rides before.

oe

y
AY

[

Old Don was once a frisky colt
And, twenty years ago,

’Twixt farm and village carried oft
His master to and fro.

With sprightly gait and lofty head
He pranced upon his way,

And showed impatience of restraint
By many a rousing neigh.

With mane and tail outfloating far
Upon the morning breeze,

Attached to sleigh or buggy, then,
He jogged along with ease.

But, as old age came creeping on,
His pace became more slow;

4LD DON” is dead! that good | And he responded readily

To the command of “Whoa!”

With downcast look and drooping tail
He slowly hobbled on;.

But faithful ever, to the last,
They say was poor old Don.

Perhaps if we could understand
The language of an eye

Some message kind old Don had left
When he lay down to die.

But though “horse sense” has often proved
Of worth in time of need,

And horses have played noble parts
In many a daring deed,

_ Their language is not understood,

And since the world began
Full many tales they might have told
Have thus been lost to man.

—ANNA B. ELMSLIE.
Ghe ©row Court.

a. NY stories are told relating the intelligence of birds and
% animals, yet there isa general disposition on the part of
t people, generally, to doubt that birds and animals are moved
by any higher power than what we term “instinct.” Many
instances can be related, showing that the lower animals
xis possess something very closely allied to intelligence. I
had often heard stories told about “crow justice,” and I could
never believe them until I had a chance one beautiful day in De-
cember to attend their court. As I was riding on the public road,
two miles north of a little town in Kansas, I noticed great flocks
of crows flying about me, and, when nearing a cottonwood grove,
in making a turn to the right, I saw hundreds of them perched in
¢» the trees in solid lines to the end of the rows. At once there
@ came to me the stories I had heard that crows were well-governed
birds, and when I saw this fine-looking body I concluded that it sat there to
give a trial to some offender of some sort. I stopped my horse, half fearing the
crafty birds would fly—adjourn court, or continue the case. What was my
delight to find that no attention was paidto me. It takes a man with a gun to
disturb these mocking blacklegs.

From a tree at the head of a row, where ten crows sat, there came such
loud and rapid cawing as I never heard before from so few throats, and every
now and then all the flock joined in making the noise, and the chorus thus
furnished was all that could have been asked if noise was desired. After two
or three minutes of this racket a silent rest was taken, which was broken by a
single crow, who made a little talk in the crow dialect, followed quickly by
others.

Things became more dignified, and my interest in the proceedings was so
intense that when a fine, fat bird submitted a few remarks and was applauded
by general cawing from every bird present, I could scarcely keep from clap-
ping my hands.

Suddenly twelve crows few down the lines twice and back, and all was
still as they didso. I was amusedand startled. This might be a jury of crows
on parade. Andl believe it was. After two or three crows had again spoken
the twelve flew down the lines once more; but this time there were fierce caws
from every crow in answer to caws from the twelve. My fancy explained: The
jury was seeking its verdict in public opinion, and the excited crows, like revo-

     
 

ai
lutionary mobs, demanded blood. Back to their perches for the last time flew
the crows, and again a silence fell, not unlike the abrupt hush of court-room
whispers as the prisoner steps forward to learn the worst. But I could dis-
tinguish no criminal. As I looked for the poor fellow there was a great angry
caw from every crow, and all flew to the center of the line, where they tore
three of their unsuspecting kind in shreds, leaving only a few feathers to float
upward and outof sight, as they separated andnoiselessly flew away, seemingly

satisfied with what they had done.

Wy

pee ee oy b
A say a

@eing a [@\an.

EFORE a boy has doffed his kilt
He wants asword with a flashing
hilt;
He must manage a train, though
it be of chairs,
He must beat a drum, he must hunt for bears.
In fact, his highest ambition and plan,
His dearest wish, is to be a man.

 

But many a boy is unmanly to-day,

Because there are so many “ifs” in the way:
He scorns this “if,” and he frowns at that,
He shirks his lesson to wield a bat;

Andso he will go, as best he can,

From youth to old age, without being a man.

Oh, there are so many “ifs” in the road
That leads to manhood’s highest abode!
Kindness, purity, courage and truth,
Stumbling-blocks these to many a youth,
For he who will not make these his own,
Can never reach manhood’s glorious throne.

So who would be manly should keep in mind
He must ever be gentle, and brave and kind.
Obedient always to Right’s fair laws,

A brother to every noble cause;

Thus shall he serve God’s cherished plan,
And come to the stature of a man.

—Emma C. Dowpb.

 

to
he \Bolf and the fOox.

WOLF once made friends with a fox, and kept him always by
him, so that whatever the wolf wanted the fox was obliged
to do, because he was the weakest, and could not, therefore,
be master. It happened, one day, that they were both
passing through a wood, and the wolf said: “Red fox, find
me something to eat or I shall eat you.”

“Well,” replied the fox, ‘I know a farm-yard near, in
which there are two young lambs; if you like I will go and
fetch one.” The wolf was quite agreeable, so the fox went
to the field, stole the lamb, and brought it to the wolf. He
then returned to find something for himself.

The wolf soon ate up the lamb but he was not satisfied, and began to long
so much for the other lamb that he went to fetch it himself. But he managed
so awkwardly that the mother of the lamb saw him, and began to cry and
bleat fearfully; and the farmer came running out to see what was the matter.
The wolf got so terribly beaten that he ran limping and howling back to the
fox. ‘You have led me into a pretty mess,” he said. ‘I wanted the other
lamb, and because I went to fetch it the farmer has nearly killled me.”

«Why are you such a glutton, then?” replied the fox.

Another day, as they were ina field, the greedy wolf exclaimed: “Red
fox, if you don’t find me something to eat, I shall eat you up.”

“Oh! Ican get you some pancakes, if you like,” he said, “for I know a
farm-house where the wife is frying them now.’

So they went on together and the fox sneaked into the house, sniffed, and
smelt about for some time, till he at last found out where the dish stood. Then
he dragged six pancakes from it, and brought them to the wolf.

“Now you have something to eat,” said the fox, and went away to find his
own dinner.

The wolf, however, swallowed the pancakes in the twinkling of an eye, and
said to himself: ‘They taste so good I.must have some more,” So he went
into the farm-kitchen and, while pulling down the pancakes, upset the dish, and
broke it in pieces.

The farmer’s wife Heard the crash and came rushing in, ha when she saw
the wolf she called loudly for the farm servants, who came rushing in and beat
him with whatever they could lay their hands on, so that he ran back to the fox
in the wood with two lame legs, howling terribly.

  
  
“How could you serve me such a dirty trick?” he said. ‘‘The farmer
nearly caught me, and he has given me such a thrashing!”

“Well, then,” replied the fox, “‘you should not be such a glutton.”

' Another day, when the wolf and fox were out together, and the wolf
was limping with fatigue, he said: ‘Red fox, find me something toeat, or I shall
eat you.”

' The fox replied: ‘(I know a man who has been slaughtering cattle to-day,
and there isa quantity of salted meat lying ina tubin the cellar. I can fetch
some of that.”

“No,” said the wolf, ‘‘let me go with you this time, You can help me if I
cannot run away fast enough.” .

«“ You may come for aught I care,” replied Reynard, and showed him on
the way many of his tricks, and at last they reached the cellar safely.

There was meat in abundance. The wolf made himself quite at home,
and said: “ There will be time to stop when I hear any sound.”

The fox also enjoyed himself, but he kept looking round now and then, and
ran often to the hole through which they had entered to try if it was still large
enough for his body to slip through.

“Dear fox,” said the wolf, ‘why are you running about and jumping here
and there so constantly.”

‘“‘T must see if any one is coming,” replied the cunning animal, ‘and I ad-
vise you not to eat too much.”

The wolf replied: “I am not going away from here until the tub is empty.”

At this moment in came the farmer, who had heard the fox jumping about
in the cellar. The fox no sooner saw him than with a spring he was through
the hole. The wolf made an attempt to follow him, but he had eaten so much,
and was so fat that he stuck fast. The farmer, on seeing this, fetched a cudgel
and killed him on the spot. The fox ran home to his den full of joy that he was

at last set free from the old glutton’s company.

 
Ghe Stolen eaves.

   

HO stole my beautiful leaves?”

g Whispered the old Oak-tree;

“West-wind, South-wind, look
for the thieves!

Find them, and bring them to me.”

“Not I,” said North-wind; ‘oh, no,

I would not treat an old friend so;

I found them lying upon the ground,
Brown and dead, and I carried them round
To bring them to life
In the autumn sun,

But I did not steal
A single one.”
“Not I,” said North-wind; “oh! no,
I would not treat an old tree so.”

  

“Who stole my beautiful leaves?”
Said the weeping Willow tree;
*“West-wind, South-wind, look for the thieves!
Find them, and bring them to me,”
“Not I,” said the Frost; ‘oh! no,
I would not treat an old friend so;
I covered them over with crystals white,
And talked with them in the cold moonlight,
Till I felt the breath
Of the morning sun,
But I did not take
A single one.”
“Not I,” said the Frost; ‘oh! no,
I would not treat an old tree so.”

“Who stole my beautiful leaves?”

Said the shivering Maple-tree;

“West-wind, South-wind, look for the thieves!
Find them, and bring them to me.”

“Not I,” said the Sun; “oh! no,

I would not treat an old friend so;

I painted-your leaves all scarlet and green, ©
With rows of crimson and gold between,

And I saw them fade
Ere my work was done,
But I did not take
A single one.”
“Not I,” said the Sun; ‘“‘oh! no,
I would not treat an old tree so.”

“Who stole my beautiful leaves?”
Echoed the Poplar-tree;
“West-wind, South-wind,
thieves! ,
Find them, and bring them to me.” —
“Not I,” said the Rain; ‘oh! no,
T would not treat an old friend so;
I mixed the shades of green and of gold
For the Sun to use, and I always told
The little rain-drops
Which way to run,
But I did not take
A single one.”
“Not I,” said the Rain; “oh! no, .
I would not treat an old tree so.”

look for the

“O Maple, Willow, and Oak,
No one stole your beautiful leaves;”
West-wind, South-wind, pitying said;
‘“North-wind, Frost, Sun, are not thieves;
They are dead, the Snow-flakes say;
I tell the tale another way:
Waiting in silence under the snow,
Are the souls of the leaves that shall upward
grow :
In the resurrection
Of the spring;

When violets bloom

And robins sing,
And new life your heart receives, gem
To your arms will spring the beautiful leaves!’,

 

Q
 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 
gunday Syehools.

ZOHNNIE is ‘‘going on to nine years old,” and being asked by his
teacher to write a “piece” on the benefits of Sunday-schools gave
the following views:

Benneyfit. Sunday-sckools is a grate benneyfit to children’s
fathers and mothers. It gives ’m peace and happyness. Every
Sunday mornin’ my pa and ma gets up late coz pa is always tired
Sundays. After breakfast pa always says, come hussel round
children and go to Sunday-sckool, for pa is tired and wants a
little piece and rest Sundays. Then pa goes and lays down on the sofy and
smokes and reads papers all the forenoon. Ma she sees to getting dinner, for
pa says he must have a good dinner on Sunday anyway. Ma has to take
care of the baby too,-for the hired gal is a cathlick and says she won't stay
home from church fer nobody, and ma being a protestan has to mind her.

Benneyfit 2. Sunday-sckools save children’s pas and mas from going to
church. One day the minister was up to our house and he told pa and ma
they ort to go to church. And pa says O, I always send all my children to
Sunday-sckool, and guess that will have todo. And so ma and pa don’t go to
church but ma says she would like to.

Benneyfit 3. Sunday-sckools saves children’s payrents a great deal of
money. When the minister told pa he ort to help pay the church expenses,
pa said, O I give my children a nickel a piece every Sunday to take to
Sunday-sckool. But the minister said, yes, but the children gets it all back
again in cards and books and picnics and Krismas trees. And pa said, well,
it is all I can afford.

Benneyfit 4. Sunday-school saves the big boys-and girls from going to
church. When the boys get big enuf to smoke and to not mind their pas then
they stop going to’ Sunday-sckool. Only they go to church some nites when
the girls go along, and then they all sit in back seats and chew gum. My pa
told Jim, my big brother, that he ort to go to church reglar. But Jim said
there aint no need of my going mor’n there is of your going. I have as much
rite to stay at home as you have. But pa said he was tired on Sundays. Pa
keeps a store, but every day he says times is SO. hard . he don’t sell, much
and don’t. have much to do. —

Benneyfit. 5. . Sunday- -sckools - do « a | great deal ak good to. ‘children, If
it warnt for: them ‘they woulda’t know nothing. ° Fer their’ payrents haint got
no time to teach em. Children learn songs and verses and things. ‘If they

   
go reglar and don’t miss they get big pay for learning to be goed. But
when I ama little bigger I am going to do as pa does and stay at home Sun-
days, and smoke and read the papers and have some of ma’s big dinners.
Ma gets awfully tired too all. the time, and would like to have a little rest.
But then ma is a woman, and pa says it is her duty to betired. Iam glad I

ain’t a woman.

Benneyfit 6. There is a great many more benneyfits to Sunday-sckools

but I don’t know any more.

WG

i

Ghe @ootblack’s @hristmas.

’'M rich! I’ve got a dollar all my own
To spend for Crismus—b’en a-save-
in’ some
Since Fourth July, a little at a time
Doin’ odd jobs, an’ swearin’ off on gum.
An’ now what shall I spend it fer? My stars!
The show-cases is full an’ heapin’ up
With presents fer to give the folks you like;
There’s Mamie now—she'd like a chiny cup.
I know she would—poor'little sickly thing!
She cried one day because she had to drink
Out o’ that mug that’s cracked like anything!
‘Yes, I'll buy that for her. Now le’mme
think—
That’s twenty cents, an’ I'll have eighty left,
An’ Billy’s crazy for a top to spin,
I'll get him one—that’s ten cents more—now
what,
I wonder, shall I buy for Jim?
I guess he’d like a jack-knife best of all—
I'll get one, an’ a good mouth organ too—
(Jim—he’s my pard—he’s got a crippled
foot,
An’ a drunken dad that beats him black an’
blue).

 
 

 

Now I’ve got forty left, and mother wants—

I know she does—a thimble—her’n is old

An full o’ holes, and bent all out o’ shape—

I wish I could get one of solid gold/

That wouldn’t be half good enough for her.

Not if twas edged with diamonds all around,

Best mother ever lived—-I tell you what

The’ ain’t many kids so lucky’s me, I’m
bound!

Now, I’ve got twenty left—Ill buy some
gum

An’ candy ’n popcorn an’ some apples too,

An’ I'll be Santa Claus, an’ have some fun

A fillin’ stockin’s Crismus eve—tell you

Th’ ain’t no picnic in this livin’ world

That’s half so jolly as the one there’ll be

When all the kids come shiverin’ round the
stove

On Crismus mornin’, when they come to see

Them stuffed-out stockin’s hangin’ on the
wall,

Oh, Zow Tl holler “Merry Crismus” then!

How s'prised they'll be! Yes, Merry Crismus
all!

—By HARRIET FRANCENE CROCKER.

 
   

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

®eath of Old Charlie.

RANDPA BROWN had invited little May and her papa and

mamma to visit him New Year’s Day. Little May was so
delighted when papa and mamma said they would go.
She looked longingly forward to the day, and not the least
of her enjoyment was the thought that she would have such
a jolly, jolly ride. Grandpa Brown lived some twenty miles
away, and as there were no cars they would have to go
with a horse and sleigh.

May’s papa had a large, bay horse, which was called Old Charlie. He
was kind and gentle and May and her mamma could drive him anywhere. As
there was plenty of snow on the ground, and the roads were well broken, papa
said they would drive over the day before New Year.

The day came, bright and sunny. May was so excited she could hardly
eat her breakfast. When her papa came in from the barn, he said Old Charlie
did not seem well, and if he had another horse he would let Old Charlie rest, as
he did not think him fit to drive. May’s face grew cloudy, and she said: “Oh,
papa, do go!” So her papa concluded that they would start. After breakfast
the horse was brought round, and May and her parents climbed into the sleigh,
the robes were drawn snugly around them, and they started off. On the road
to Grandpa’s they must cross quite a river, but as the ice was frozen hard and
teams were crossing, there was no danger there. Old Charlie went along rath-
er slowly, but he bid fair to get them to Grandpa’s before noon. When they
reached the river, they plainly saw that the horse was very tired. He seemed
scarcely able to walk, but as it was only a few miles further, they urged him on,
when he slipped on the ice and fell, as we see him in the picture. They all got
out. May and her mamma stood looking at him, while papa cut the harness
and tried to get him up, but it was no use. Poor Old Charlie could never draw
another sleigh.

What to do papa did not know. There was no house in sight.. The day
had grown cold, and he could not leave May and her mamma there, so they left
poor Old Charlie and sleigh and started off on foot. After walking nearly a
mile they came to a house. May’s papa went in and told the good old farmer
who lived there that his horse had been taken sick and had died on the ice, and
that he was anxious to get to Mr. Brown’sas early as possible. The old farmer
said: ‘Well, well, well, this is too bad. But you can take one of my horses
and send it back to-morrow.” So papa and the farmer went back to the sleigh,
where they found everything safe. They took the harness off poor Old Charlie,
then cut a large hole in the ice, dragged him there, and buried him in the water.
Then they hitched the farmer's horse to the sleigh and went on. When they
teached the farmer’s house May and her mamma got in, and they all went on
to Grandpa’s. They reached there without any further accident, but May’s
New Year was a sad one, because she loved Old Charlie so.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 
@eicket.

E have said elsewhere that foot-ball is the national game of
England; yet vieing with it in interest and exceeding it in
number of persons playing it is the game of “cricket.”
The origin of this game is lost in the past. The word
itself is foundin the Saxon language and means a “crooked
stick,” and old prints of the game now in existence show
that it was formerly played with a stick, quite crooked.. Its earlier English name
was “Handoute,” a title which is more significant than the present term.
In the first years of its existence it was played very rudely, but as far
back as 1740 it was looked upon as a fashionable sport, guarded by careful

rules, dignified by printed scores, and = —
possessing skillful exponents. To-day
it is played as freely as base-ball in our
own country, every town and hamlet
having its clubs, and in England no
school is complete without its private
cricket grounds.

Some attempt has been made to
introduce it into America, but so far it
has not met with large favor, yet every
large city has its cricket clubs, though
most of its players are Englishmen.

The game is played somewhat like
our own base-ball. The bat, instead of
being round, is flat and wide, thus giv-
ing the batter a tar better chance to hit
the ball. The game is played with
eleven men upon a side; two strikers
coming in at a time, one at each wicket,
and the object of the fielders is to dislodge them according to the rules of the
game. When a ball is hit, the striker, if he can reach the opposite wicket be-
fore the wicket is thrown down, scoresarun. This you will see is something
like the game of ‘Two old cat,” in which the batters change places when one
of them hits the ball; that one failing to reach his position before the ball is
returned being put out; it is the business of the fielders to stop and catch the
ball and return it to each of the wickets with all possible haste.

 
The ballitself must weigh not less than five and one-half nor more than
five and three-fourths ounces. It must measure not less than nine nor more
than nine and one-half inches around,

The bat must not exceed four and one-fourth inches in width nor more
than thirty-eight inches in length.

There are a great many rules governing the game but they are tecnnical,
and would be of but little use to us. The ball must be “bowled;” that is, it
must not be thrown either overhand or underhand. The game is one in which
good judgment and headwork are of great advantage.

It also requires good physical qualities, such as broad shoulders, stout
arms, quick legs, and a ready eye, to make it a success.

 

 

 
(Caerosse.

ACROSSE in its origin is an Indian game, being played by
them, especially in Canada, when this country was first dis-
covered. In its old simplicity whole tribes took part, each
brave carrying two curious looking sticks with which he caught,
stopped and threw the ball with wonderful skill. The squaws

aided ina way that enabled them to taste the sweets of authority, and gave an
opportunity to pay back some of the indignity heaped upon them by their
husbands and brothers, as it was their duty to attend the players and apply the
lash to the wearied or weak-hearted who lagged behind. For miles and miles
over the prairie the game went on, and fast and furious was the fun. The
game as played by the Indians was a simple one.as compared with its present
form. Then there were fewrules. Each man was a law unto himself, and
team work was unheard of. The game is played with twelve players on a side,
each armed with astick in the shape of a shepherd’s crook. Thestick is strung
from the crook half-way down the side with string usually made of strong
leather. This forms a net by which the ball is caught and thrown; in fact, the
ball must not be touched by the hand of a player during the game.

There is also a captain, who gives directions to his men, but who is not
allowed to interfere with the ball or carry a stick. The men are arranged and
named as follows: Goal-keeper, point, cover point, three defence fielders,
center fielder, three home fielders, outside home and inside home. The game
is started by the two center fielders kneeling in the center of the field facing the
opposing goals. Their sticks are laid flat upon the ground with the backs to
each other and the ball between the crooks. The umpire gives the command
to “Play!” and the fielders strive for the ball, the one getting it throwing it to his
side, where some one is ready to stop it, and then the fun begins. The object
is to get the ball past the opponents’ goal, which consists of two upright posts
six feet high and six feet apart. The goals are 120 feet apart. A score is
counted when the ball is driven through the goal, no matter whether it be done
by an opposing player or by the defence. The ball is about three-fourths the
size of a base-ball, is made of solid sponge rubber, and is a dangerous missile
in the hands of an inexperienced player. Each side is entitled to an umpire,
or referee, who is the sole judge of all points in dispute in his field, each ampire
being allotted one-half of the ground. No runner is allowed to wear spikes in his
shoes, as, at its best, the game is a dangerous one. Lacrosse has not gained
much of a foothold among the Americans, though nearly every large city has
its clubs. In Canada the game is played in its best form, and to the Canadians
it is what base-ball is to the Americans. A match game of lacrosse is the
occasion of a gala day among them and always draws crowds of admirers from
the surrounding towns. There is no doubt but lacrosse is one of the most
exciting games ever played, and always arouses the highest enthusiasm. If
properly handled it would be a success in the United States, though the fact
that it is not a game for amateurs has probably prevented its more rapid

introduction.
Gwo \Ways of Obeying.

ESSIE, dear, I want you to come in the house and amuse Baby
Paul a little while,” mamma called from the window.

“Oh, dear!” Bessie pouted, impatiently, throwing down
her hoop angrily; “I never havea nice time that I don’t have to
stop and mind baby. I think it’s too bad!” .

Baby did not find this little nurse very patient and pleas-
ant that afternoon. ;

He put his chubby fingers in his mouth and cooed and
laughed in his sweetest fashion, but Bessie would not play with
him; and presently he began to cry so hard that mamma had
to lay aside her work and soothe him.

Just about the same time Bessie’s cousin was called away
from her play to amuse her little sister. Though she was just

as fond of play as Bessie was, she laid aside her toys cheerfully and frolicked
with baby till she was in the best of good humors. When mamma was ready
to take baby she kissed her little daughter and said: ‘You have been my dear
little helper this morning, Mamie.”

Which way of obeying was the right way?

 

—MINNIE E. KENNEY.

 

M
ports of Sandwich |slanders.

WHE simple natives of the Sandwich Islands do not have as many
means of amusement as do the more favored people of greater
civilization, yet one who has been among them wonders at the

 

= == = ——— =

=

 

 

 

     

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

contentment
which they get
out of life. Their
favorite sport is
swimming, and
they seem as
much at home in
the water as on
the land. Not
only the men but
the women as
well spend hours
ata time in the
surf of the ocean,
‘sporting like na-
‘tives of the deep.
From their in-
fancy children
play in the water
and early learn
to have no fear of it. Itawakens admiration to wit-
ness these little ones in the surf. Over and over
they go, rolling, tumbling, splashing, diving, in a
most merry mood. Boys of ten and twelve become
expert swimmers, and it appears to make but little
difference to the Sandwich Islander whether he is
in the water or on the land so far as locomotion is
concerned, By constant practice they are enabled
to remain under water a long time. In this way

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 
they obtain many valuable things from the ocean which by those less expert
could be secured only by means of diving bells. They dive in the water from
heights that to others would seem very dangerous. So skillful do they be-
come at diving that if a piece of silver be cast into the water they will dive for
it and seize it before it reaches the bottom.

They undertake journeys to some of the neighboring islands or to some of
the distant parts of the same island, swimming the entire distance and perform-
ing their task with as much ease as we could walk the same distance by land

In all other parts of the world the man-eating shark fills bathers with ter-
ror. Not so with the Sandwich islanders. Armed with a knife and stick
sharpened at each end they boldly start out to meet this terror of the sea.
When the shark springs up to grasp its intended victim the native skillfully
thrusts this sharpened stick in its mouthand so prevents the shark from closing
its jaw. Then the islander plunges his knife into the shark and kills him at his
leigure. This sport would seem a dangerous one, but it does not lack excite-
ment, and the islander gets as much enjoyment out of it as does the lover of
hunting or fishing get from his favorite sport.

The first appearance of ships among these simple people filled them with
amusement. They gave them the name “Moku,” meaning “islands,” and see-
ing them moving about they looked upon them as living beings and remained
near them much of the time in the water.

The islanders seem to have no means of amusement upon the land.
Games, such as are often found among savages, are entirely wanting with them.
If pleasure is desired a plunge in the surf seems to meet their desires and they »

seek nothing further.
Ba ee Eee
Fa ol

@ Piddle for the \Writing-C@lass.

HERE'S a one-legged. elf in a
white rubber cap
That dances before yeu, or liesin
yonr lap;
Tho’ you say not a word, yet as quick asa
wink

 

This gay littke gad-about tells what you think,

He follows your fancy; he goes or he stops,
He scrambles or gambols, he glides or he
‘hops;

Tho’ loaded with lead, yet he hasn’t his
match;

The spry little skip-away “comes to the
scratch.”

‘If ever his words appear out of the way

Just collar him gently, but firmly, and say,

“Come, now you shall walk on your head,
little chap,

Till you rub out your work with your funny
white cap!”
Mh
Hh
a

a

 

@he f€ox and the {p)\orse.

PEASANT once had a faithful horse who had grown old and could
not serve his master any longer, and therefore he did not care to

"i provide him with food, so he said to him: “I really do not want

K\ you any more, for you are of no use to me, but if you can prove

your strength by bringing me a lion I will keep you as long as you

live; but now just walk out of my stable and go and make yourself a home in
the fields.”

The horse, feeling very sad, wandered away till he came to a wood, that
he might shelter himself under the trees in bad weather. A fox met him and
said: “Friend, why do you hang your head and look so lonely?” |

“Ah,” replied the horse, “my master has forgotten for how many years I
have served him and borne him safely from place to place, and now that | am
unable to plough any longer he will not provide me with food and has sent me
away. He told me that if 1 was strong enough to bring him a lion he would
take me back and keep me, but he knows very well that I could not possibly
do that.” , .

Then said the fox: “Don’t be down-hearted, I can help you; sojust lie down
here, stretch yourself out as if you were dead, and do not move.”

The horse did as the fox desired, while the fox went to a lion, not far off,
and said to him: “Yonder lies a dead horse; come with me and you can have a
good feast.”

The lion went with him, but when they reached the spot the fox said:
“You cannot make a meal comfortably here. I'll tell you what I will do; I will
tie the horse on to you by the tail, and then you can drag him to your den and
consume him at your leisure.”
The lion was pleased with this advice; he placed himself near the horse
and stood quite still to enable the fox to tie the tail securely. But in doing so
he contrived to twist it round the lion’s legs so tightly that with all his strength
he could not move them. Then the fox struck the horse on the shoulder and

cried: ‘Gee up, old horse, gee up. «

Up sprang the horse and started off at full speed, dragging the lion with
him. As they dashed through the wood the lion began to roar, and roared so

loud that all the birds flew away in a fright.
dragged him along over field and me

the master saw him ‘he said to him:
food and shelter as long as you live.”

But the horse let him roar, and
adow to his master’s door. As soon as

“You shall now stay with me and have

sw ee vy he
se ~~

| Ghe Giant \Mho

N a little Scotch kitchen, with raft-
ers above,
And the wide open fire-place that
grandmothers love,
The kettle was making a terrible din—
Would you guess that a giant was prisoned
within?

 

No one knew what he said; no one heeded
the noise;

People don’t when they live in a house full
of boys,

And, with grandma asleep, and James onthe
settle,

Small wonder they heard not the voice in

the kettle.

“Ym a giant imprisoned!” the cry came
again,
“J have strength for the work of a million
of men.
Your ships I will carry, your carriages draw!”
(Jamie looked in surprise, but no giant he
saw).

 

\Panted to \Worke.

“can print all your books, and your cloth I
could weave;

Your grain I will grind, if you'll but give me
leave;

Great weights I can lift, as you- quickly will
see,

Only give me more room. Come, my lad,
set me free!”

Just then grandma awoke, and she cried:
“Lazy thing,

Have you nothing to do but hear the kettle
sing?”

But he answered her gently, and told her his
plan—

More room for the giant to do all he can.

Just a dream? No, indeed! You will own it
was not
When I tell you the name of the lad was
James Watt.
’Twas the giant who’s working for you and
’ for me;
Aren’t you glad that he listened, and then
set him free?

—By S, E. EASTMAN.
Polo.

LTHOUGH polo is only a new game in this country, it origi-

nated many centuries ago in Japan. It was first played in the

United States in the year 1874, coming from England here.

While it has not spread rapidly, it isa game that will stay with

us. Itis not agame for the masses for the reason that not every

one can afford to play it. The game requires plenty of leisure

and plenty of money, to say nothing of pluck, endurance and agility. The

latter qualities will be worth nothing if the first two are lacking, and for that
reason it will always be a game for the few.

There is no game, however, which is more interesting to spectators than
agameof polo. To play the game properly, the players must all be mounted,
and you can imagine, perhaps, some of the excitement aroused by a number of
mounted players rushing hither and thither over the field, each armed with a
long stick or crook, and intent upon the game. The horses add not a little to
the interest. The skill and intelligence shown by trained polo horses is wonder-
ful indeed. To judge by their actions they really enter into the game and play
it with vim and interest. To play polo properly each player must have two or
three horses. It-is this feature which makes it so expensive. The rules re-
quire that the horse used in the game must be small. This has been done to
prevent the game from becoming too dangerous. Then, too, the smaller the
horse the nearer the rider is to the ground, and hence the better chance he
has to display his skillin the game. Perhaps more attention is given to the
selection of the ponies than to anything else. It is necessary that the pony be
not only well trained, but that he be hardy and intelligent, and above all he
must “mind the bit.” A great many of the best polo ponies received their first
training in herding cattle, for the fact that good herding ponies are very easily
converted into good polo ponies. They come from the plainsof Wyoming,
Indian Territory, Texas, etc.

The game is played something like lacrosse. The ballis placed upon the
ground, and at a given signal the opposing parties make a rush for it. The
successful one throws it into the territory of the opponents, and then the
scramble is free for all. The goals are placed quite a distance apart, and
when the ball is put past the opponent’s goal a score is counted. The
game is found mostly in eastern states. It is indeed a magnificent sight to
see a pony going at full speed, the rider dexterously catching the ball with his
crook, and hurling it far away. Thena rush is made for it by all the players,

8
 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

A GAME OF POLO,
as is done in foot-ball. Notwithstanding the fact that the game is played on
horseback and seems so dangerous, but few accidents occur. This is due to
the superior skill and training of the players and horses.

= EE

Ghe Old Grandfather's Corner.

NCE upon a time there was a very old man who lived with his
son and daughter-in-law. His eyes were dim, his knees tot-
tered under him when he walked, and he was very deaf. As
he sat at table, his hand shook so that he would often spill the
soup over the table-cloth, or on hisclothes, and sometimes even

he could not keep it in his mouth whenit got there. His son and daughter
were so annoyed to see his conduct at the table that at last they placeda chair
for him in a corner behind the screen, and gave him his meals in an earthen-
ware basin, quite away from the rest. He would often look sorrowfully at the
table, with tears in his eyes, but he did not complain.

One day, thinking sadly of the past,
the earthenware basin, which he could 2
scarcely hold in his trembling hands, fell to =
the floor and was broken. The young wife
scolded him well for being so careless, but <fyr
he did not reply, only sighed deeply. Then
she bought him a wooden bowl for a penny,
and gave him his meals in it.

Some days afterward his son and
daughter saw their little boy, who was
about four years old, sitting on the ground
and trying to fasten together some pieces
of wood.

“What are you making, my boy?”
asked his father.

“Tam making a little bowl for papa
and mamma to eat their food in when I
grow up,” he replied.

The husband and wife looked at each other without speaking for some
minutes. At last they began to shed tears, and went and brought their old
father back to the table, and from that day he always took his meals with them,
and was never again treated unkindly. ; ;

 

 
 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

, see that pretty moss!
t is like a star!”

It was clinging to a
rock by the sea-shore.
It was not moss, but an animal.

“Tt is a sea-star, Nellie, or a
star-fish, as some people call it.
Take it in your hand. You will
not be hurt.”

“Why, Uncle John, he is all
legs. Where are his eyes and
nose?”

“The sea-star has neither eyes, nose, nor ears, Nellie.
In fact he has no head at all. Those little feelers on what

you call his legs are really all the legs and arms he has.
His mouth and stomach are all the same.”

“Oh, how funny!”

“Yes, he is a curious animal. When he has finished one meal some of
those little arms sweep his stomach clean, and then he is ready for another.”

“And what does he have to eat?”

“Well, Miss Nellie, he is as fond of oysters as you are. Though he seems
so feeble, the strongest shell-fish cannot escape him. He sends a poisonous
juice through the valves of the oyster, which makes him open his shell. Then
the sea-star has a fine feast!”

“The wicked creature!”

“Yes, the oyster fishermen are no friends of the star-fish. But he makes
a pretty ornament when dried. Do you want to take him home?”

“T am afraid of being poisoned.”

“T will tell you what to do. Place him in this little wooden box. I will
bore some holes in it. Then put him down over anant’snest. They will
prepare him nicely for you. His poison does not harm the ants. Perhaps
there are ant doctors who cure them.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

  

 

   

,

—KuHAM.

 
eyomething G\bout Spiders.

f NE afternoon Cora came running to her Aunt Sarah and said,
“Oh, Auntie, there is the funniest thing in the window I ever
saw. Do come and see what it is.”

‘Where is it, Cora?” said Aunt Sarah.

“In the parlor window, and I am sure it was not there yester-
day! I never saw anything like it before, and I want you to
come and see it too.” So Aunt Sarah went with Cora to the

window,and there, sure
enough, was the object
of Cora’s surprise, and
what do you think it
was? Only a spider's
web.

Aunt Sarah was a
neat housekeeper, and
did not like to see a
spider's web in her
window, so she said;
“Oh, my! Cora, run
and get the broom so
that we can sweep it
down. I don’t want
anyspider’swebaround
the house.”

“But what is a
spiders web, Aunt
Sarah?” asked Cora.

“A spider's web,
child, is something that
aspider makes to catch |
flies.”

“But how does it
put it in the window,
Aunt Sarah?” asked
Cora. 5: :

Cora seemed so THR WEB IN THR WINDOW.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 
interested in the web that Aunt Sarah thought it a good opportunity to tell
‘her something about spiders, so seating herself in an easy chair and drawing
Cora to her knee, she said:

“And would my little girl like to know something about spiders?”

“Yes, indeed, Aunt Sarah,’ said Cora. ‘I should like to know how they
build those funny little things. They look just like lace, don’t they?”

“Yes,” said Aunt Sarah. “‘A spider’s web does look something like lace, and
the threads from which they are spun are as fine as those of any lace you ever
saw.

“But how did the spider make his web in the window?” said Cora.

“The spider,” said Aunt Sarah, “spins his web from material which he car-
ries in his body. The spider picked out this place to weave the web. Crawl-
ing along the window, he fastened a single thread to the wall; then dropped

downward, spinning a singlethread as he dropped. After going some little dis-
tance he began to swing back and forth, farther and farther each time, until
he finally reached the wall. Clinging to this he fastened the thread there, so
you see he then had arope upon which to travel back and forth. Starting from
another point, he wove another thread, and dropped down until he reached this
“rope, or could reach it by swinging. So he worked until he had a large number
of these single threads, which form the framework of his web. These threads
all cross at some point. Using this asa centre, he worked round and round
until he finished the thicker part which you see in the centre. His hope was
that some fly might be caught in the meshes of the web, and be held there
until he could devour it. The spider’s web is a wonderful piece of work.

“Think, Cora, how strong these little threads must be to support the weight
of the spider as he swings back and forth. But get the broom now, and we
will sweep it away.” Cora got the broom, but not with very good grace. She
was much interested in the spider’s web, and it was with sorrow that she saw
Aunt Sarah sweep it to the floor.

 
he fairies (all.

RANDMA, there are lots of fairies where we live, for I have
heard them laugh and sing and play in the moonlight. You
know we have no dreary winters where my fairies live; no cold,
white snow covers the pretty, green grass, the wind is not
chilly, and the flowers never die; the leaves never turn brown,

@ nor are the trees ever bare, and the birds sing all the year
round. The fairies are perfectly happy, for, of course, they could not live
without flowers, birds, and moonlight.

Sometimes, when the moon is so bright, it makes me think it is time to get
up. I go to the window and listen. The wind that comes from where the sun
has gone to bed begins to sing just like the organinchurch. First the fire-flies
and the glow-worms light up the fairy ball-room, until the lovely pine-woods

look like the place God makes the stars in. Then the grasshoppers and crick-
ets, bugs and bees begin to: tune up their horns and fiddles, while some of the
birds join in the fairies’ orchestra. “One funny old bird keeps tap-tapping on
an old tree and thinks he is playing the drum. A pretty black-bird, with a red
breast and yellow wings, has a flageolet; the other instruments are all taken
by the mocking-bird, and whenever he sings, or plays, a solo, everybody hushes
to listen. There is a chorus of voices, too, one big bird singing quite distinct-
ly the words ‘‘Ever more, ever more,” and the other birds sing out whenever
they have a chance.

- After the band are all in their places, the leat -dids and katy-didn’ts begin
scolding, and making the fairies hurry up; soon they begin to tiptoe, tiptoe o over
the grass, making ready for dancing and ring-around-a-rosy.

The old owl is floor-manager, and he says: “To which, to who, to which,
to who?”

Another bird, who wants to help manage, says: ‘ Choose Will’s widow!
choose Will’s widow!” while everybody looks at a pretty little fairy, all in
green and gold, with the tiniest little feet, standing pouting ata little boy fairy,
who is teasing her, and I can just hear her say:

 

“ Blow, breezes, blow,

Let Colin’s hat go;

O’er hills and dale let it be whirled,

Till I get my hair all curled and curled.”

Then a bird sings out loud, “ Whip-poor-will! whip-poor-will!” and every-
body turns to look at a boy fairy, who is naughty and cross, because hecan not
have the first chance to dance with the pretty widow; the bugs and beetles
begin to scold, and say:
“Huzzy, huzzy, huzzy;”
some others answer:
“Busy, busy, busy;” the
ball seems in danger of
breaking up in a quarrel,
until the cricket sings out
loud: “Cheer up, cheer up,
cheer up,” and the dance
begins.

The big spider over in
an old tree-top is the fairies’
spinner; his wheel goes:

Whiz, whiz, whirl, whirl,

Lo, and behold

Reel away, reel away,
Straw into gold.

   
 
 
  
     
 
        

G. The fairies’ pretty dresses are made of his gold and
i silver threads; they sparkle and glisten so, as they dance,
that my eyes are dazzled by looking at them.
Well, grandma, they dance and dance till they're tired,
i i 7 then they have supper; eating violets and
: lily-bells, and drinking dew-drops from
| acorn-cups. They are so merry with their
laughing and_ singing,
that some little bunnies,
who have not gone to
bed, scamper away
home to tell their mam-
mas; the quail wake up
i and call: ‘““Bob White,
ot Bob White,” and that
| | starts the squirrels, who
/ chatter: “Chestnut,
abes chestnut, they'll eat ‘em
all up!” Jennie Wren, who was taking a nap with her head under her wing,
says: “ Tweet, tweet;” the fairies, startled by all this noise, run away home,

 

    
  

i

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 
except a few, who have drank too much dew-drop. Anold robin flies round
mocking them with the words: “Kill ’em, cure em, physic; kill’em, cure ’em,
physic.” Then I know it is morning, and creep shivering to bed. As I nestle
in my pillow, I hear the turkey hens say: “I’m up, up,” and the old gobbler
answers: ‘Talk, talk, talk, gabble, gabble, gabble,” and this is why I slept so

late in the morning.

With a single eye,
She always does my bidding
Very faithfully;
But she eats me no meat,
And she drinks me no drink,
A very clever servant, as you well may think.

 

Another little servant
On my finger sits,
She the one-eyed little servant
Very neatly fits;
But she eats me no meat,
And she drinks me no drink,
A very clever servant, as you well may think.

Now, one more little servant,
Through the single eye,
Does both the other's bidding
Very faithfully;
But she eats me no meat,
And she drinks me no drink,
A very clever servant, as you well may think.

A needle and a thimble,
And a spool of thread,
Without the fingers nimble,
And the knowing head,
They would never make out,
If they tried the whole day,
To sew a square of patchwork, as you well

may say.
—Mary J. JAcquzs,

 

 

hilt,
He must manage a train, though it
be of chairs,
He must beat a drum, he must hunt for
bears;
In fact, his highest ambition and plan,
His dearest wish, is to be a man.

But many a boy is unmanly to-day

Because there are so many “ifs” in the
way;

He scorns this “if,” and he frowns at that,

He shirks his lesson to wield a bat;

And so he will go, as best he can,

From youth to old age without being a man.

Oh, there are so many “ifs” in the road
That leads to manhood’s highest abode!
Kindness, purity, courage and truth,
Stumbling-blocks these to many a youth,
For he who will not make these his own,
Can never reach manhood’s glorious throne.

So who would be manly should keep in mind
He must ever be gentle, and brave, and kind,
Obedient always to Right’s fair laws,

A brother to every noble cause;

Thus shall he serve God’s cherished plan,
And come to the stature of a man.

~Emma C. Down.
    

Ghe Strife of Seasons.

a} PRING, Summer, Autumn, and Winter once had a great quarrel
| with each other. Each one wished to be considered the best
and to possess more attractions than the other; but they
wished especially to push Winter away because he wore an
ugly dress, and they thought he could be pleasing to no
one. This troubled Winter very much, and looked very
enviously at the others. He saw how the good Lord had
clothed Spring in a green dress, adorned with the most beautiful buds and
flowers, so that all the birds came back again and sang their songs to him, and
the sun came out every day from behind the clouds and smiled kindly at him.

He saw Summer, too, with the warm sun which ripened the strawberries
and cherries, with the beautiful clover and corn-fields, and the reapers with
their merry songs. Hesaw how Autumn, with its purple grapes, its red-cheeked
apples and pears, was kindly greeted by everybody; how everything rejoiced
and received with gratitude the gifts which Autumn so richly offered. When, »
however, Autumn passed away the Winter came with his gray dress, then the ©
swallows and other birds flew away. No bird wished to sing asong to Winter,
no flower to bloom for him; and the sun came very seldom from behind the
clouds.

This made Winter so unhappy that he wept bitterly for many days, so that
his tears fell down upon the earth. When the good God saw this he said to
Winter: “Do not weep. Why are you so mournful? Look into the houses,
and see how cosily the people sit together, and how mothers tell their children
stories of the dear Christ-child, whom you bring to them.”

Then Winter quickly dried his tears, and noticed for the first time what he
had entirely overlooked in his grief. Soon God gave him a white garment, in
- which he looked more cheerful. Children ran quickly out in the snow, sleds
were drawn out, snowballs were thrown, a snow man was made, and there were
joy and gladness everywhere. When Christmas came and the lovely trees were
hung with so many beautiful things, the children called loudly: ““Welike Winter
best, because he brings us the dear Christ-child.”. And Winter rejoiced with
them, for he had learned to know that he had received much that could give
pleasure to others, and all the seasons thanked God for his love.

—Miss Lucy WHEELOCK,
@hased by Savages.

ee AWRENCE NORTON was a young man of twenty-two. He
had finished his education, and was desirous of seeing ‘‘some-
thing of the world,” as he expressed it. His uncle, who wasa
large ranchman in Montana, had frequently written Lawrence,
urging that he visit the west and make his home there. Law-
rence was anxious to go, and in a few short weeks found himself
safe in his uncle’s home.

The house in which his uncle lived was not such as Lawrence
had been used to. Neither
was life on the plains as [=
luxurious asin the eastern §

   

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

cities, yet Lawrence en-|}~
joyed it all. It was a}

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

change to him, and the
wildand free life which he
led there was so pleasant |
that he thought he should
like always to remain.

On his uncle’s ranch
were many hundreds of
horses and of cattle. Only
a few days after his ar-
rival his uncle presented B=.
him with a fine horse and| Af
saddle and told him to
make the most of it. Day |
after day Lawrence went }
out to help herd the cat-
tle. On one occasion, he &
thought he would ride to
the hills some distance A RACK FOR LIFR.
away and explore them. His horse was fresh, and he galloped rapidly forward.
The air was bracing and Lawrence felt every nerve thrill with life and vigor.
Reaching the hills he dismounted, and, staking out his horse, he started out on
foot in search of whatever adventure might befall him.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

   
Like every other herdsman, he carried his trusty rifle with him. s As he
reached the summit of a little hill he saw a band of Indians encamped in the
vale below him. Lawrence thought it would be great fun to send a rifle ball
over their heads and terrify them. He did not think of the danger there would:
be in such a course for himself, so, raising his rifle to his shoulder, he fired in
the direction of the encampment. No sooner was the gun discharged than
the Indians sprang to their feet in great commotion. They ran hither and.
thither, gathered their arms together, and hastily mounted their ponies. Then
_ Lawrence realized what he had done. Hisown horse was some distance away,
and the Indians were coming in the direction from which the gun had been
fired. Lawrence ran rapidly to the spot where he had left his horse, and
reached him none too soon. As he was mounting, the Indians appeared on the
summit of the hill, and seeing him, at once gave chase. Then began a race
for life. Lawrence knew that if he fell into the hands of the Indians there was
little hope forhim. He had had no time to reload his gun, and so was unable
to defend himself. He urged his gallant steed to the utmost, and started off
across the plains, hoping that he might escape them. But the ponies of the
Indians were fresh, and although Lawrence had some rods the start, yet he felt
that there was but little hope of escape. Knowing that his gun was of no use
to him, and that it added so much weight to his horse, he threw it away.
Then he threw away his coat and hat, and sped onward.

For miles and miles they raced. At one time the Indians were close upon
him, but his horse seemed to know that life depended on his efforts, and that
another mile would bring him within reach of assistance. So springing for-
ward with renewed vigor, he soon placed a safe distance between him and his
pursuers. Lawrence reached his companions badly frightened, and it was with
difficulty that he could tell them of his escape. Although they rejoiced that
Lawrence had gotten off unharmed, yet none of them felt like blaming the
Indians for chasing a man who, without any cause whatever, had fired upon
them.

 

51
HERE was once a poor farmer who owned a small field of corn. He

had planted and cultivated it with great care, for it was all he could
AAS depend upon for the support of his large family. The little blades of
corn had come up, but the ground was parched and dry for the want of rain.
One day, as_he was out in his field looking anxiously for a shower, two little

 
       
  

 

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rain drops up in the sky saw him, and one said to the other, “Look at that poor
farmer, he looks so sad and discouraged, I do wish that I could help him.”
“What would you do,” said the other; “you are only one little rain drop you
could not even wet one hill of corn?” “True,” said the other, ‘‘but, then I
could go and cheer hima little. I believe I'll try. So here I go,” and dbwen
went the little rain drop, and fell on the farmer’s nose. ‘Dear me!’ said the
farmer, ‘I do believe we are going tohave a shower—I’m so glad!”
No sooner had the first rain drop left, than the other said, “Well, if you
go, I believe I’ll go too.” So down came the second little rain drop and fell on
a hill of corn by the farmer's feet.

By this time another rain drop said to his companions, as they came to-
gether: ‘‘What is this I hear about going to cheer some poor farmer—that isa
good errand, I believe I'll go too.” “And I, and I, and I,” said the others. So
they all went—faster, and faster they came, till the whole field was watered,
and the corn grew and ripened, all because one little rain drop did what it could,
which encouraged many others to do the same.

Dear friends, that is just what our mission bands in the churches are try-

ing to do.
A BOery Odd Girl.

She cares for baby brother;

She fashions balls and kites for Nate,
And runs for tired mother,
“She’s just.as odd as odd can be!”

¢|N school she ranks above her mates,
And wins the highest prizes;

bi) She bounds correctly all the states,
And tells what each one’s size is;

 

In class she will not prompt a friend,
For she doesn’t believe in telling;
She heeds the rules from end to end,

And never fails in spelling.
“She’s just as odd as odd can be!”
Say all the school of Esther Lee.

She keeps her room as neat as wax,
And laughs at Peter’s mockings;

She mends Priscilla’s gloves and sacques,
And darns the family stockings;

She dusts the sitting-room for Kate,

 

Say all at home of Esther Lee.

For little, crippled Mary Betts
She saves her brightest pennies;

She never, never, sulks or frets
T£ she doesn’t beat at tennis;

With happy words she is sure to greet
Children in lowly by-ways;

She guides unsteady, aged feet
Across the bustling highways.
“She’s just as odd as odd can be!”
Say all the town of Esther Lee.

 

 
fOoot-Hall, 7 S

&> HE origin of foot-ball is lost in the past. In the days when the
I Greeks were writing text-books to distress the youth of the
19th century the Grecian boys played foot-ball, but not as we
see it to-day. All that we know was that the ball used was
an inflated bladder, and that it could be touched only by
the foot. Ata later day the Romans adopted the game, and
added the feature of seizing and carrying the ball. From the
Romans it was introduced into Great Britain, where it has long
been the national game. In fact, the interest of the American people in the
game of base-ball is insignificant ascompared to the interest the English people
take in foot-ball. In 1175 one wfiter mentions it as ‘‘a game much indulged in
by young men after dinner.” In the 14th century Edward III. and Richard II.
made it a crime to play foot-ball, in the hope that the young men would pay
more attention to archery. Ata later date James I. objected to the game on
account of its roughness, and in forbidding his sons to play it he said that the
“game was meeter for laming than making able the users thereof.” And,
indeed, there is good ground for his objection to it. Early in the present
century in England Shrove Tuesday was recognized as foot-ball day. Every-
body played it, old and young, men, women and children, and it is indeed
amusing to read of the precautions that were taken to prevent accidents. The.
people living near the grounds barricaded their doors and put heavy shutters
against the windows. As the ball itself could not be dangerous, we are forced
to conclude that the trouble was entirely with the players. Imagine, if you
can, several hundred and even thousands of people scrambling, running, push-
ing, jumping, falling over one another, in wild pursuit of the ball, anxious only
to send it out of reach again by a vigorous kick! Imagine, too, several balls
flying about in the same field! Think of the collision between two groups of
players! What aturmoil must haveensued! Surely the opportunity for elbows.
to burst through windows, for sensitive shins to come in contact with mis-
directed toes, for clumsy bodies to tumble to the earth and be tramped upon by »
the crowd was great indeed! This festival disappeared some time between 1825.
and 1830. Fora quarter of a century after that the game was played mostly in
academies. The famous school of Rugby made a game of its own, and, by the
way, should any of our readers desire an account of the excitement of a foot-ball
game, we know of none better than that given in “Tom Brown at Rugby.”
The game at the present time is played with eleven men ona side. The

   
field must be 330 feet long by 160 feet in width, the goal posts placed at the
end 18% feet apart, and the cross-bars ten feet from the ground. There are
two sets of rules governing the game. Inone the ball cannot be touched except
by the foot, which is far less dangerous than the other one, and, on the other
hand, far less exciting than the one in which the player is allowed to seize the
ball and run with it, in which scrimmages are common. The game is in favor
with all who love vigorous and manly sports. The training it offers is highly
valuable from a physical standpoint. Undoubtedly one reason why foot-ball
has less popularity in America than in England is due to the fact that its season
is short. Contests in America are mostly between college teams. The game
is, however, growing in importance, and a college championship contest always
draws large crowds. The men are divided into seven rushers, one quarter
back, two half backs and one full back. The players must possess agility,
strength, endurance and pluck, and perhaps in no other game does swift run-
ning count as much as in this.

 

@€A Boy's Gssay on @obaceo.

OBACCO grows something like cabbage, but I never saw one
cooked. I have heard men say that cigars that was given them
election day for nothing was mostly cabbage leaves. Tobacco
stores are mostly kept by wooden Injuns, who stand at the door
and fool little boys by offering them a bunch of cigars which is
glued into the Injuns’ hands, and is made of wood also. I tried
to smoke a cigar once, and I felt like Epsom salts. Tobacco was
invented by a man named Walter Raleigh. When the people
first saw him smoking they thought he was asteamboat, and were
frightened. My sister Nancy isagirl. I don’t know whether she

‘EY likes tobacco or not. There is a young man named Leroy who
comes to see her. I guess she likes Leroy. He was standing on the steps one
night, and he had a cigar in his mouth, and he said he didn’t know as she would
like it, and she said: “Leroy, the perfume is agreeable.” But when my big
brother Tom lighted his pipe, Nancy said: ‘Get out of the house, you horrid
creature; the smell of tobacco makes me sick.” Snuff is Injun meal made out
of tobacco. I took a little snuff once, and then I sneezed.

  
     

black eyes, and feet that looked as if they might have corns
on them. They dressed alike, too, in lovely green coats and
hoods edged with red. Their woiges were not at all sweet, but
they loved to sing, and never seemed to mind if people did
laugh.

They lived in a cigar store, where they were often spoken
to and given pieces of candy or sugar.

They liked to be talked to and admired, but if anybody tried to touch
them they would scratch or bite.

This seems very naughty, but Polly and Patty were not little giris, but
parrots.

Mr. Peters, the man who kept the store, bought them of a sailor. They
could only speak Spanish then, but they soon learned English. As they were
very tame he did not keep them ina cage, but let them perch on a pair of
large deer-horns near the front of the store. They never tried to get away,
but would say, ‘‘How do you do? Glad to see you!” when any one came in,
and ‘‘Good-by! come again,” when they went.

One day Mrs. Peters, who was a very prim old lady, thought she would
take Patty home with her, as she was often very lonesome. But Patty missed
Polly so much that she would not talk at all, She moped on her perch all
day, with her feathers ruffled up.
An old friend of Mrs. Peters called to see her.

She was French, and

could not speak very good English. She tried to tell about the old fat poodle

she had had so many years,

and that had just died. She cried as she talked,
and Patty must have thought it very funny,

for she opened her beady eyes

and straightened up to listen. In a few moments she began to imitate the

French lady—sniffing and sobbing, and saying,

“Mon poor Flore! So sweet dog i

in the same broken English:

Prim Mrs. Peters was very much shocked at Patty. She was alarmed for
fear her friend would be offended, so she took a piece of green baize and threw

it over the naughty bird, thinking that in the dark she would be quiet.

And

so she was; for some time she did not make a sound; but all the time she was
pecking and pulling at the baize until she had made a hole large enough for

her bill and one eye.

Then she cried out, “Hooray!” in loud tones, and at once

began to sniffle and sob and talk about “poor Flore” more than ever.
Mrs. Peters hurried her into another room. She sent her back to the
cigar store the next morning, where Polly welcomed her back by cackling like

a hen.

But the French lady has never liked Mrs. Peters since, nor does Mrs.

Peters like parrots.

—CLARA G. DOLLIVER,

3.2 —

Ghorn of Pris Cocks.

PLACED my boy in the barber’s chair,
To be shorn of his ringlets gay;
And soon the wealth of his golden hair
On the floor in a circle lay.

Twas a trifling thing of daily life,
And to many unworthy of thought—
Too small a theme ’mid the toil and strife
Of this world’s changing lot.

But the ringing out of the cruel shears
To my heart-strings caused a pang,
For they changed the child of my hope and
fears
With the scornful tune they sang.

My thoughts were bent on the little cap,
‘And the curls that round it twined

Like golden clasps with which to trap
The sunbeam and the wind.

No more I shall see those flying curls,
And my homeward steps I wend;

Another stage of his life unfurled,
Where youth and childhood blend.

So when from his chair he stepped at
length,
He stood, with his artless smile,
Like Samson shorn of his locks of strength
By Delilah’s treacherous wile.

Thus one by one will vanish away
The charms of his childish life,

And each bring nearer his manhood’s day,
With its scenes of toil and strife.

God grant that my lease of life may last
Through his changing years of youth;

Till the danger rapids of life are passed
And a Samson stands in truth.
  
   
  

their door every morning, or can get it by simply calling at
the post-office, ever think of the way in which letters and
papers were carried across the continent before railroads were
built there ?Up to the year 1867 the only means of carrying
mail from the Mississippi River to the coast was by means
of coaches, or horsemen. The stage coaches of those days were very
largeand strong, as they needed to be to stand the rough usage which
they received. They were drawn by six horses and traveled at a rapid
rate; about every fifteen miles were relays—as they were termed—
that is, horses were kept at these points, and when the coach dashed
up with its six foaming steeds, fresh horses were attached, and the
‘ coach went on tothe next post. These coaches carried not only mail,
valuable packages, but passengersas well. The coach would carry twenty pas-
sengers very comfortably inside and out. The route lay through a country full
_ of savages and the stage was frequently attacked by them. At such times
driver and passenger knew that they could expect no mercy and fierce battles
often ensued. The coach, however, contained a guard of armed men to pro-
tect the passengers from the savages, yet in many instances this was not suffi-
cient, and oftentimes nota single passenger escaped to tell the story.

It was my lot once to ride on the overland coach from Omaha to Denver.
‘We had but about two days journey before us, and we were all congratulating
ourselves upon our good fortune in having escaped the savages so far. The driver
was asilent man, somewhat past middle age, and seemed to have but little to
say; his whole attention seemed to be directed to his steeds. As we were roll-
ing merrily along one morning chatting gaily, the driver said, ‘There are tracks
on the roadside and you may all look for a little brush with the savages before
the day closes.” The guards seemed to believe there were savages before us,
and as we saw them looking carefully to the priming of their guns and examin-
ing their cartridge boxes to see that they were full, we became somewhat sober.
We did not, héwever, forget to look to our arms—such as we had. But a short
time passed ere the driver spied a single savage some distance ahead. He said
nothing—but gathering the reins carefully in his hands, and putting his big
whip where he could use it, he urged the horses onward; after a few moments
we saw another savage, then another—and in less time than it takes to tell the
story we saw ahead of us a large band of mounted savages. ‘There was noth-
7

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 
ing todo but to make the most of it, and whipping up the horses to their utmost
speed he undertook to go past the terrible foe.

The savages were armed with bows and arrows and, of course, could stand
but little show against the superior weapons of the guards. A single volley
from the guards scattered them somewhat, and it was with real pleasure we
saw several of their number fall from their horses. The savages did not pro-
pose to let us off so easily, however, and soon returned; then began a hand to
hand fight. There were at least two hundred of them and only a dozen of us.
Their arrows fell thick and fast among us, but the savages were too wary to
come too close to the death-dealing guns of our men. We soon saw that if our
horses could only. hold out that all would be well, and it was indeed a sight to
see the care with which the driver handled them. He did not seem to notice
the savages or their arrows, but gave his whole attention to his team. The
chase continued for some miles and we thought we would surely escape, but
the savages seemed to realize thaf it was now or never with them, andagain
came on with the most unearthly yells and a volley of arrows to which all
their previous assaults had been light indeed.

We met them resolutely. Finding that they could not capture us in any
other way they turned their attention tothe horses and soon one of the leaders
fell to the ground wounded with some of their arrows; as he fell the other horses
ran over him, and in an instant all was contusion. The driver succeeded in
stopping his team and we doubled our efforts to keep the savages away. As
soon as the coach was stopped and our men could aim more carefnlly the savages
realized there was no hope for them, and a few volleys put them to flight, leav-
ing a score of dead and wounded behind them. When the coast was clear we
dismounted, straightened out the horses as best we could and went on after
shooting the horse which the Indians had wounded so severely.’ We reached
our journey’s end without further danger, but you can rest assured that no one
of us ever cared to again ride on the Overland Mail.

 

 
Gle [)cddlesome oy.

HIS isa bad little boy. He loves to meddle with things that
do not belong to him, and sometimes he is cruel to harmless
animals. All children should obey their parents, but Iam sorry
to say that Harry is not an obedient boy.

Last summer he went into the country to spend a month
: with his grandmother, but he was so uneasy and restless that
she sent him home ina week! He loved to tease the dog, and worry the cat,
and play all kinds of tricks on the pigs and chickens.

Then he would throw stones at the birds, and sometimes climb the trees to
steal their eggs or destroy their pretty nests. Once his grandma saw him
throwing a great stone at White Betty, her best cow, and told him that such a
cruel boy ought to have no nice milk, butter, or cheese. He began to cry, and
said that he did not think that it would hurt her! Then his uncle gave him a
little tap with his cane, to show him how it feels to be hurt, and told him that
he would try the same thing whenever he saw him ill-treat any animal!

One day, while Harry was sitting onthe porch, he spied a queer-looking
bundle hanging on a bush near by. Some pretty buzzing insects were coming
out of little holes in the sides of it, and flying all about. ‘Well, well,” said the
little boy, “I wonder who you are, and what you keep in that funny thing, any-
way? I mean to find out, and pretty quick, too! Grandma will never know!”

~ So he brought a high stool and climbed to reach the place. But, just as
he took hold of it, out flew the buzzing little creatures, and away jumped poor
Harry, nest and all. Even this did not end the matter, for the funny bundle
wasa hornets’ nest! It was fullof insects and they were very lively! Perhaps
you have been told that hornets have a stinger, long and sharp, and that they
thrust it into any one that attacks them.

They all flew at the little boy, and stung him so severely that he screamed
with pain. —

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 
©limbing the fEaleon’s ©rag.

HE hero of my story was named David Burns. He was just a
little Scottish shepherd laddie, running almost as wild over the
hills as the sheep he tended, and as happy as the lark that sang
in the blue heavens.

David worked for the great laird of Clunie, wno lived at

the castle in the valley, and owned all the country round about.

One fine morning, late in the spring, as young Burns was

about his work on the hill-side, he heard a voice call from above,

“Hallo, David!” and looking up, saw standing there a lad of about his.own age,

at sight of whom our hero snatched off his weather-stained cap and stood bare-

headed, his eyes glistening with pleasure, for this was Master Willie of Clunie,
whose father David served.

“I’m home for the holidays,” the young laird said, “and I’ve been hunting
for you everywhere to know if you have kept your promise, and found an
eagle’s nest for us to visit together ?”

“I’m blithe to see ye hame an’ lookin’ sa bonnie. As for the nest I ken
the whereabouts of one. I was just waiting till the wee birdies was grown a
bit before I climbed down an’ gathered one for ye, sir,’ David replied.

‘Well, we'll go together this morning; that will be better fun.”

“Na; it’s naa gude day for the likes of you, sir, to be amongst the hill-tops.
See how thick the mistslay there. We maunwaita clearer day, an’ take some
of the men folks alang.”

‘Where is the place?” questioned the other.

“Amongst the Falcons’ Crag, up Ben Clunie.”

“Why, that’s not so far,” Willie answered. ‘It’s much better sport to go
by ourselves.” And then, when David sturdily shook his head, he added,
‘Well, I’m going, at any rate. [Pm not afraid. You can do as you please;”
and turning on his heel, the boy stalked angrily away.

David stood looking after the retreating figure somewhat sadly, for he loved
his young master most devotedly, and would willingly have risked life and
limb for hissake. What was he to do? Sit quietly there and let Master Willie
climb the Falcons’ Crag by himself, and perhaps get lost in the white mist that
hung about the mountain-top so thickly?

For David knew how many ashepherd had lost his life amongst the hills |
at such atime by falling into some deep gap, and been dashed to pieces hundreds
of feet below. Yethis young master had, in his usual headstrong fashion, started
by himself, and was already far out of sight. .

It took but a few moments for Davidto decide. Wrapping his tartan plaid —
around him, and seizing his shepherd’s crook, he was soon hastening over the
uneven ground, and hurrying up the hill-side as fast as he could in the direction
Will Clunie had taken.

Presently he came up with the other, and saying humbly, “Sir, if ye maun
gang, I'll gang with ye,” walked along beside him.

“Ah, that’s your true self, Dave!” the other joyfully exclaimed. “Ihad an
idea you were going to show the white feather.”

David made no remark, only a hot flush came into his honest, sunburnt
little face. ;

So up they climbed, higher and higher, and nearer the white cloud that
rested on the mountain-top, so silent and so still.

At last they reached the place called the Falcons’ Crag, and went more
cautiously, for the spot was very dangerous, overhanging as it dida deep loch,
or lake, below. Above them, creeping lower each moment, hung the cloud of
white mist.

“We must hurry and find the nest,” Willie said, pointing to the sky above.

“Hist, sir! see yonder!” exclaimed David, excitedly pointing. ‘‘Lie down,
sir, lie down; ye maun let them get wind of ye.”

The boys hastily crouched behind a boulder, and eagerly looked below,
where a pair of fine eagles hovered over a ledge of rock, upon which evidently
their nest was built. The rocks around were strewn with the bones of sheep
and lambs, and David whispered to Will that they must lie quiet till the
old birds flew away in search of food, as it would be dangerous to go nearer
the nest, in case they attacked them.

Will forgot everything in his anxiety to possess an eaglet and carry it
back with him to the castle. They watched with much excitement the two
noble birds as they swept round and round in wide circles. Now and again
they would rest on their great brown wings without further movement, and then
swoop down without apparent effort, calling to one another, and circling as be-
fore.

At last they seemed to decide that it was time to go in search of dinner for
themselves and their young ones, and, rising high in the air above the mountain-
tops, were lost to sight in the mist.

The opportunity was not to be lost. Telling his young master ‘“‘to bide
stilla while,” and keep a sharp look-out in case the old birds returned, when
he was to shout, David unwound the plaid from his body and prepared to de-
my
hh

er

 

A FIGHT WITH AN EAGLE.
scend to the nest, armed only with his shepherd's crook. In another moment
he had disappeared over the steep side, and was lost to sight, justas the mist
suddenly rolled down, and shut out the rest of the hill from view.

How long he lay there Willie could never decide, but it seemed to him
hours that he clung anxiously, waiting to hear some sound that would tell what
had become of David. He began to wish he had not over-persuaded the brave
lad to undertake such atask. He dared not shout, for fear the two eagles
might hasten back to protect their little ones. He crept to the edge and looked
for David, but the mist prevented him from seeing what was below.

He could bear the suspense no longer; with caution he lowered himself
down toa spot some way beneath, and shouted.

Imagine his terror if you can when the shrill, peculiar cry of the king of _
birds greeted his ear, and, the mist clearing at the same moment, he saw that
David was making violent efforts to climb toward him, but that an overhang-
ing rock prevented him from doing so.

‘Help, help!” cried Will, half frantic at the dangerous position of his
friend, not realizing how impossible it was that in so lonely a spot such a cry
should receive an answer. Buttwo shepherds happened to be near, and came
hurrying to the rescue.

They saw ata glance poor David’s plight, and fortunately having with
them a short coil of rope, they hastily descended to rescue him.

It was only just in time, for the eagles were becoming furious, and as the
men lowered the rope to the boy and he slipped his foot into the running loop,
_ they darted toward him, tearing his shirt and lacerating his flesh with their
beaks and talons, and screaming loudly. The men both shouted, and while
one pelted the birds with pieces of rock and stones, the other, with Will’s help,
drew our hero to the ledge, bleeding but triumphant, a tiny eaglet clasped in
one arm.

After much risk, they succeeded in getting out of their perilous position,
but David was too: weak from loss of blood to walk, so they hoisted him on
their shoulders, and carried him down Ben Clunie and right into Clunie Castle,
for Will would have it'so.

Of course the laird was very angry at the foolish risk the lads had run in
attempting so daring a feat without more assistance. But his eyes sparkled
with pleasure as he listened to Will’s account of David's courage.

As for that brave lad, he soon recovered from his wounds, and was as happy
as before. But to Willie the adventure taught a lesson he never forgot—how
nearly a life had been lost simply to gratify his selfish whim.

—EpitTH A. FINDLAY.
(Cavwn Gennis.

4 AWN TENNIS, while comparatively a new game in the United
States, isa very old one in England. For more than five hun-
dred years some variety has been played in England. Even
Chaucer referred to it, in 1380, as a “popular game.” Before
that time lawn tennis was a favorite game in France, Spain, and
Italy. It was not until about 15 years ago that the game at-
tained any prominence in America. About that time the ath-
letic circles of Boston introduced the game. Requiring as it does a high
degree of intelligence and skill, offering a most excellent opportunity for phy-
sical exercise and cultivation of judgment, it has rapidly won its way into
popular favor. Undoubtedly one of the reasons which has led to the popular-
ity of lawn tennis lies in the fact that the game can be played by both sexes
and by old and young. Were one to enter the parks of any of our large cities
he would be satisfied that the game is popular. Acres of lawn marked with the
rectangular court of lawn tennis are given up to that sport and abound
with graceful players of both sexes. They present a most enchanting ap-
pearance.

A lawn tennis court should be 78 feet in length and should extend from
north to south, as this arrangement least interferes with the sun. The court
should be 36 feet wide; the ends are termed base lines. The net, which should be
3% feet high at the ends and three feet in the middle, extends across through
the centre of the ground. Two lines, termed the service lines, are placed
21 feet from the net on each side, parallel to it, and are 27 feet in length,
A line is also drawn through the middle of the court and length-ways, and is
termed the half court line. The game is usually played by two or four players,
though what is known as the three-handed game has a great many followers.
There are quite a number of rules governing the game; however, the principal
points can be mastered ina single afternoon. It is not necessary to give the
rules here. The ball should weigh not over 2 ounces—not less than 2 15-16.
It must not be over 2% inches in diameter, nor less than 2 15-32. These di-
mensions have been established by the Lawn Tennis Associationas best adapted
to the wants of the game. While a suitable costume adds much to the ap-
pearance of the players, and affords freer movement than regular dress, yet it
is not absolutely necessary. The bat or racquet should not be over 14 inches.
in length, and should be grasped at the end. The players must stand on
opposite sides of the net.

 
The player who first delivers the ball is called the server, the other the
striker out. The server shall serve the ball with one foot on base line, and the
other foot behind that line. The ball served must drop between service line,
half court line, and side line of the court diagonally opposite to that from which
it was served. If the server fails to strike a ball, or if the ball served drops in
the net, or beyond the service line, or out of court, or in the wrong court, or if
the server does not stand as directed, it is termed a fault. The server shall
not serve again from
the same court from’
which he served that
fault, unless it wasa
fault because he
served from the
wrong court. If the
striker out is not
ready and a service

or fault is delivered
A

4 |
LITT Ait © | it counts for nothing,
CHEE ry) The service shall ae
HALT TF be volleyed; that is,
returned before it
has touched the
ground. The server
wins a stroke if the
striker out volleys a
service, if he fails to
return service or ball
in play, or if he re-
turns service or ball
in play so that it

 
 
 
 
 
  
 

   
 

 

 

drops outside of his opponent’s court.

The player who first wins six games wins the set. If both players win five
games the score is called games all, and the next game won by either player is
scored advantage game for that player. If the same player wins the next game
he wins the set; if he loses the score returns to games all, and so on until either
player wins the two games immediately following the score games all, when he
wins the set. This rule may be modified at the desire of individual clubs,
however. In matches the decision of the umpire shall be final. If two umpires
are called upon they shall divide the court between them, and the decision of
each shall be final in his share of the court.

Every year competitive games are played by the different clubs belonging
to the Tennis Association. There is wonderful interest shown in the matches.
There is a regular circuit of games the same as in base-ball. The credit for
introducing and developing the game in Americais due to Dr. Dwight, one of
our oldest and most expert players. Where the members of the club are
wealthy a vast amount of money is expended in laying out and equipping the
grounds. The Casino at Newport is probably one of the finest grounds in the
country. The prominence that the game has attained among us in so short a
time undoubtedly lies in the merits of the game. It is said that amusement,
skill, strength, and agility are happily united in this game. It would seem that
a game played by both sexes, and by young and old as well, could not afford
an opportunity for physical exercise, yet there is no game, perhaps, which calls
into play a greater number of muscles, or which taxes the entire physical sys-
tem of the body, more than lawn tennis.

It is about the only out-door sport of an athletic nature that invites the
skill of lady contestants and at the same time assures perfect conformity with
the rules of propriety and etiquette. The graceful exercise makes the game
wonderfully popular with ladies, so that in point of numbers little difference
exists between the players of each sex, though in tournament and match play-
ing we find they figure less prominently in consequence of the violence of ex-
ercise required at such times. This feature, however, is not true of English
lady players. English girls begin tennis playing while very young and reach
high skill in it; in fact, the champion player of England is a lady. The game
is also a sociable one, allowing opportunities for chatting and talking which
cannot be allowed in any other athletic game. There is also indoor tennis,
indulged in through the winter. Much pleasure and amusement is derived
from this, though indoor tennis cannot hope to rank with the game on
the lawn.

Everything connected with lawn tennis points to a great future for the
game in this country, although it is not likely that the general public will ever
rave over the game of tennis as they have over base-ball, nor is it desirable they
should. The strictly amateur character of the game, combined with great care,
has kept this beautiful and healthful sport free from contamination and raised
it to its present high position in popular esteem. This esteem will continueand
we feel assured that the game will increase in popularity in the future as in the
past, and that the players and lovers of the game will make it the best game in
the country in which both sexes can engage.
 

~T was long after supper time.
had cleared off the table, and gone into the kitchen to write a let-
ter home to Sweden; and there was no one in the dining-room ex-
cepting a mouse that was lazily picking up crumbs the baby had
dropped. Besides all this, I know in another way, too; for the

Iam sure of this, because Hannah

baby was fast asleep in his bed up-stairs.
It is perfectly ridiculous for me to call him the baby, because he was really
a big boy half-past five years old, but everybody called him that, so I must, I

suppose.

Mamma came into the hall, and what do you suppose she saw there the

  

seen eee

But nothing stirred under the bed-clothes.

“ Ba-by!”

“Ump!”

“Are you awake?”
“Perhaps so; to-morrow.”
‘*No, now.”

 

very firstthing? Itwas nothing more or
less than a big iron engine, with ared
smokestack, and only three wheels. It
must have had four wheels at first, but
now it just got along the best way ‘it
could on three. Now, that engine did
not belong to baby at all; andmamma
guessed just right when she suspected
that her boy had taken it that very
afternoon when he was over playing
with Jim Boggs. I tell you what
mamma did not like that at all, so
she started up-stairs with all her
might.

“Baby!”

By this time he was sitting up in bed, trying to rub his eyes open with his

eight fingers and two thumbs.

Mamma was standing there with the candle, and looking just as savage as
that particular mamma could possibly look. '
“Baby, whose engine is that down-stairs?”
“You mean, mamma, the one with the red smokestack, and only three
iegs?” é

“Yes,” said mamma, “that’s the very one.”

“Well, then,” replied the baby, as he settled down into bed again, “‘that
b’longs to Jim.”

“Did he say you could have it?”

The baby thought for quite a long time, and then said: ‘Seems to me he
didn’t; I expect I just took it.”

“Come,” said mamma, putting down the candle, “you must get right up
and take it back.”

“But I haven’t got any clothes on,” said the baby.

“No difference,” said mamma, “you can dress, and I'll stay here to button
your shoes.”

““Oh, dear!” é

But he had to do it, I can tell you; and, when he came down-stairs, there
was the engine quite ready to be taken home.

“Have I got to go all alone >” And the little boy opened the front door,
and looked out. The lights were burning in the streets, but, phew! wasn’t it
dark between them?

“T tell you what,” said mamma as her cold, stony heart softened a little at
last, ‘I'll stay here by the window, and perhaps you can see all the way over.”
Well, and so—Oh, yes, then the baby clattered down the front steps; and,
after running straight into the big lilac bush at the corner of the house, and
almost going head-first over the big stone down in the driveway, he looked
around, and there was mamma, sure enough, standing and waving good-by.

“ Pretty tough!” said baby to himself; but he tramped on over the hill, and
down to the fence that ran across Jim’s back yard. He crawled through, and
went on tiptoe up the steps to the door.

“Guess I'll just leave it and run home,” said the little boy to himself, but
he looked across and there was mamma still standing in the window. |

‘No, I guess I wont,” he said; and so he rang the bell. The minute the
girl opened the door, he heard Jim crying almost like mad, way up-stairs.
“Here’s Jim's engine, and I stold it; and I guess he’s crying for that, and I’m
sorry, and I’m going home—”

And the next thing they saw was a little boy scurrying across the back-
yard, through the fence, and over the hill. And I tell you another thing, too—
that little chap did not stop till he was safe in his mamma’sarmsagain. ‘This
makes two times that I’m gone to bed in only one night,” said the baby. “And,
mamma, I’m sorry "bout that engine.”
“That s all right now, my little man, and I don’t believe all this will hap-
pen again.”

“Well, I rather ’spect not.”

So mamma leaned over and kissed him softly, for she saw his eyes were
almost shut up tight.

“Had only three legs, anyway,” said the baby, as he tucked the clothes
close up under his chin, and so fell asleep.

@Josie’s @rouble.

et ITTLE Josie Brown was sent to the store fora bottle of shoe-

fe dressing. He didn’t care to go just then, so he rushed out of
the house ina bad temper. After getting the bottle he was re-
turning in the same ugly fashion, not looking at all where he was
going. He happened to come toa slippery part of the pave-
ment, and down he fell, dropping the bottle on the ground. Of
course it broke,.and the contents splashed all over his face, his
hands and his clothes. In terror he flew home, and ran scream-
ing to his mother. Seeing that he was about to throw himself on her lap, she
cried out in alarm: “Don’t come near me.’

Mrs. Brown was making a new silk dress, and she naturally objected to it
being soiled by shoe-dressing.

Then Josie screamed all the more, and his two little brothers, who were
present, thinking that their mother was frightened, began to scream too. This
woke the baby, who joined in the dismal chorus.

The sound was heard in the street, and some foolish people quickly gave
an alarm of fire. In a very short time engines were in front of the house.
This made such an uproar that Mrs. Brown wondered for a moment what it all
meant. When she did understand it herself she found it difficult to make
every body else understand what had happened. Then she found it still more
difficult to quiet her three frightened little children.

Don’t you think that was a great deal of trouble for one boy to cause his
dear mamma? Josie thought so when he was calm enough to think at all, and
I believe he tries to be more careful now when he is sent to the store.

—S. JENNIE SMITH.

   
@® Buffalo Hunt.

Rex NE day Hal saw a buffalo-hunt. Indeed, he was at the hunt
; but he did not take part in it.

This is the way it happened. Hal’s papa was going
from the fort where he lived to another, two hundred miles
away. Hal and his mamma went with him. They rode
in a covered carriage, called an ambulance.

There was an escort of soldiers with them, to protect
them if they should meet any Indians. Their road was called a trail,
and it led over the prairie. There were no houses on it except one or
two lonely cabins, and they were not near the trail.

There was danger of meeting Indians, so the scouts kept a sharp lookout.

  
    

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The Indians in that part of the country were very fierce and war-like. They
fought all the white people they met. Hal did not feel afraid, for he knew the
soldiers could drive them away.

It was very delightful to ride over the wide prairie. There were a great
many showy flowers. Hal would often get out of the ambulance and gather
his arms full of them. He thought it was great fun atnight, when they stopped.
The soldiers always cooked their suppers over a fire made in the open air.
 

 

 

 

Sane a ere a anc ern geen ner — ~ Soo snreeter te trrnan Sat tenement Sreerene te see gs a

One night they did not cook any supper, for they did not dare make a fire.
The scouts had seen a party of Indians, away off on their left. They knew
the Indians would see the smoke if they made a fire: and if they saw the
smoke they would come over there to get up a fight.

The day after the scouts had seen the Indians they came riding back as
hard as their horses could gallop... Everybody thought the Indians were
coming. 3

When the scouts got near enough they called out: “ Buffaloes! Buffaloes!
The soldiers all turned to look in the direction the scouts pointed. They
saw a cloud of dust behind a rise in the prairie, and in a few minutes they
could see a great herd of buffaloes. They were coming almost directly
toward the party.

The buffaloes made such a noise, as they came near, that Hal was fright-
ened. He was not so frightened but that he watched them all the time. On
they came—trot, trot. There were a great many of them. It seemed to Hal °
there were hundreds. As the buffaloes came near, the men were ready. Bang!
bang! went their guns. Over tumbled four or five large buffaloes. Hal’s papa
would not let the men give chase. He said the buffaloes might lead them
farther than they would have time to go. He was afraid, too, that the men
might run against some Indians. Another reason was that he did not think it
was right to kill more buffaloes than they could make use of.

The buffaloes had large, bushy heads, and large horns. Hal got out of

the ambulance and went up close to one of the dead ones. He patted it on
the head, and was not at all ae of it, though he thought it looked very wild,
even if it was dead.

Hal’s papa promised to have two of the horns polished for him so he could
keep them. He said he would keep them always, to remember his first buf-
falo-hunt by.

1"

—Mrs. BUSYHAND,

 
(ase Bait

O GAME of to-day is more popular than that of base ball; it is
indeed our national game, and where almost every boy is a
player, it seems hardly necessary to give any explanation of it,”
It stands without a rival in the opinion of all save a few follow-
ers of horse-racing, but were gambling taken away from the
latter sport it would disappear like mist before the summer's
sun. Fortunately base ball needs no such element to endear -
it to the people. It depends only upon local pride for its hold upon the peo-
ple. It furnishes its own attractions, its own excite-
ment; it affords the best of exercises, and has its fol-
lowers in every home.’

Base ball was not born; like Topsy, it “growed.”
The boys of Greece and Rome played a kind of hand
ball, the lads of England played “rounders” centuries
ago, but base ballas we know it is an American evo-
lution from “one old cat” and “town ball,” which our
fathers played a generation ago. The first organized
was the “Knickerbockers” of New York in 1845. The
Tules of those days were very simple. The pitcher,
instead of being the power he is to-day, was of little
importance. The only restriction put upon him was
that he pitch the ball, not throw it. Masks, gloves,
chest-protectors, spikes and the many accessories of
to-day were unknown. The best batter was the king
then, and the harder the ball was hit and the busier
fielders were kept in chasing the ball, the more fun
for the spectators.

The game made headway rapidly, but it was not
WL by, Until 1858 that there was anything like organization.

RAY} At a convention held in New York this year, twenty-
five clubs sent delegates, and base ball took its place

= at the head of American sports. In 1866 the number
Bounb For Fon of clubs had increased to two hundred and two, while
in 1891 the number was countless, every city, town and hamlet having its
“nine” and many places several. The city of Chicago alone had nearly three
hundred organized clubs, including amateurs.

 

 

 
 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 
Every boy knows how to lay off a “diamond,” and understands the main
rules of the game and the terms, ‘‘assist,” “error,” “battery,” ‘fly ball,” “foul,”
“dead ball,” “block ball,” “muff,” “double play,” “wild throw,” and hosts of
other base ball vernacular are apart of his vocabulary. In a scoresheet, A. B.
means times at bat. R. means rums scored. B. H. means base hits. P. O.
means put out. E. means errors made. A. means assists rendered. S. B.
means stolen bases. S. O. means struck out, and other terms may be used.
but these are most common.

It is a question if the youth of to-day get the fun out of ball that the youth
of a generation ago did. Then the ball was pitched to the batter, who, if skill-
ful, drove it far out into the field. How well I remember games which lasted
from three to five hours, games in which the score reached thirty to seventy on
aside. What yells greeted the boy who rushed panting over the plate and
cried “Tally!” What a hero was he who caught a “fly,” and did a side fail to
score during an inning it was hooted at mercilessly! How we farmer boys
worked through the week to finish our allotted tasks by Saturday noon so that
we might have the afternoon to play in. What vim, what energy we put into
the game! The “error” column was not kept then—nothing but the “runs,” and
these were usually counted by notches cut into one side of a stick. The um-
pire knew little of the game, but as the players knew less no harm was done.
We played for fun and fun we had until the evening shades warned us that we
must drop our loved sport. No thought of weariness came to us while we
played, but there were often bumps and bruises and soreness on our bodies
that a week’s respite could scarce allay. We who played the game in its in-
fancy go out to-day and witness the science, the strategy, the skill, which are
shown, the lightning-like speed with which the ball goes to the batter, the mar-
vellous dexterity with which a fielder pulls down a seemingly impossible ball,
the daring base running, and lastly the small score, with an intense longing for

the game as we knewit, and go home convinced that base ball, like everything
else, was better when we were boys.

 
Ghe Best \May.

OW hot the July sun poured down! Will rested on his hoe
handle, and drew his sleeve across his face to wipe off the mois-
ture. Such a lot of potatoes to hoe! He looked back at the
rows he had hoed, and then over at what there was still to hoe.
A sullen look crept into his face, but he worked on. At the end
of the long row he halted and, flinging the hoe in the furrow, sat

down in the shade of the tall corn that was nodding its tassels in the fitful
breeze:

“T don't believe there ever was a boy that had such hard times as I do,”
he muttered to himself. ‘It’s just work, work, work, work, from morning till
night. I’m sick of it,” and Will pushed back his hat and leaned against the
old basket to think it over, and build castles about what he meant to do by
and by. When he grew to bea man, he wouldn't work on a farm all day; he
would live in a fine house like Mr. Brown's, with a great spreading lawn and
tall shade trees in front; he knew just how it looked, for he went by there
almost every time on his way to town. Once he had seen a little boy just his
own size out inthe yard, reading in a book, and how he wished he could change
places with him. He would havea span of gray ponies, too, such as he had seen
Mr. Brown driving out of the great gate. So he went on planning and thinking,
till the minutes crept into half an hour—a whole hour—or more. Suddenly
Will was startled at a rustle near him in the corn, and springing up, he saw
Uncle Esek looking at him with a peculiar twinkle in his eyes.

Uncle Esek was no real relation to Will. He was an old, weatherbeaten
man who lived in a little log house a mile up the road from Will's home. He
was shrewd and keen, and by his kindly words, spoken at just the right moment,
he often helped many a perplexed boy out of his troubles.

“Well, what is it?” said Uncle Esek, glancing down at the hoe and then
at Will’s flushed face, from which the discontented look had not yet faded
away.

Will looked as if he would rather not tell, not feeling sure what answer
Uncle Esek would give him; but at last he said: ‘Don’t you think it’s mean to
make a boy work all the while, anyhow? When I get to be a man, I shan’t do
anything I don’t want to,” and he looked up rather defiantly; then he told what

he had been planning.
“Well,” said Uncle Esek in his aot quiet way, “I can remember when
Mr. Brown was a little boy like you, and didn’t live in half as good a house as
yours. He had to work justas hard as you do, too.”

Will looked surprised.

“Yes,” continued the old man, “he worked just as hard; but he didn’t fret
about it, and stop to build castles in the air when he ought to have been at
work. ‘The hand of the diligent maketh rich,’ the good Book says, and I
think you will find this true. And there is another verse: ‘Seest thou a man
diligent in his business, he shall stand before kings, he shall not stand before
mean men.” :

“But Mr. Brown don’t ‘stand before kings,’” urged Will.

“No,” said Uncle Esek, “but everybody respects him and values his good
Opinion.”

Will picked up his hoe thoughtfully, while Uncle Esek continued: “Every-
thing in this world worth the having costs something. We always have to pay
all that a thing is worth before we getit. If we want money we must work for
it; if we want to be wise, we must study hard and think a great deal; if we
want to have an easy time when we are old we must work for it when we are
boys.”

“Maybe that’s so,” said Will. “I never thought of it before. But anyhow
you can fix it, I don’t like to hoe potatoes, though I suppose it will have to be
done,” and he moved slowly toward his unfinished work,

“That’s right,” said the old man, looking after him; “do the things that are
waiting right at hand to be done. And after all, my boy, it doesn’t make so
much difference what we work at, though it isa great deal pleasanter to do -
what we enjoy; butitis the way in which we do the work that makes men of
us.

/ 3 -SSte

(Cove One Another.

ren small
is) Sat on the stairs in a lighted hall,
coed Vexed and troubled and sore per-
plexed
To learn the Sunday’s forgotten text;
Only three words ona gilded card,
But both children declared it hard.

| > a. was Saturday night, and two child-
A 44
B

‘Love,’ that is easy—it means, why, this’—
(A warm embrace and a loving kiss);

“But ‘one another,’ I don’t see who
Is meant by ‘another’—now, May, do your”

Very grandly she raised her head,
Our thoughtful darling, and slowiy said,
As she fondly smiled on the little brother:

‘Why, Iam one, and you are another,

And this is the meaning—don’t you see?—
That I must love you, and you must love me,”

Wise little preacher, could any sage
Interpret better the sacred page?
P\e ost Something.

Ore OTHER, can we go sliding on Red Run this afternoon? You
g needn't be afraid, mother; the ice is as hard as—as—”
“As hard as what, Rob: at
' “ As your head,” prompted mischievous Rob; and there
‘was a little scuffle between the boys as to which had the
hardest head—a scuffle full of fun to them, but rather too
noisy for mother.
“T don’t know about that, boys,” answered the mother; “I wanted
you to take care of Rosa this afternoon.”

“Oh, what a bother!” cried Foster, “we wont have a bit of fun.”

“Never mind, mother,” spoke up Rob, quickly, ‘let us have the little kid;
we'll take care of her.”

“T want to go to see poor Mrs. Belt,” said the mother, “and try to help her
with her sick children; Rosa would be in my way, but I wont let her go with
you, Foster, if you are not willing to take her.”

‘Oh, I'll take her,” said the little boy, ungraciously, “but it wont be any
fun; it will be a lost afternoon.”

When twilight_fell over the white, snow-covered world the children’s mother
hurried home, and found little Rosa and her two brothers sitting before the
glowing coal-fire in the nursery. :

‘‘Oh, mamma,” they all cried, together, springing up from the-rug and
hanging on to her snowy cloak, “we had just lots of fun.” And while the
mother dried her damp wraps and boots all three little tongues wagged at once.

‘We p’ayed I was a pwis’ner,” said Baby Rosa, “and Wobb and Foster
put me in pwison; and den I wunned away, and they taught me and slided me
back to pwison.”

“We most died laughing, mamma, to see the tot try to run on ice.”

‘And sometimes her little feet would fly from under her, and down she
would come like a thousand of brick; but she was real plucky—she didn’t cry
at all.”

‘‘How about your afternoon, Foster?” asked the mother, ‘‘was it lost?” —

“Fossy was weal nice to me, mamma,” said Rosa, putting her little fat
arms around him.

“Yes,” said mamma, looking very pleased, ‘““my boy lost something after
all—not his afternoon, I am glad to see, but a selfish, ugly little temper.”

  
   
(aby Gay and (Jaby Grey.

O little, green apples grew side by side on a great, big
tree.

Baby Gay and Baby Grey were happy little apples until
6) one day rough Mr. Hail rushed by them and in his hurry he let

» two of his little hailstones strike them. Mr. Hail was in too
much haste to say ‘Excuse me,” so rushed on.

The baby apples cried a moment with pain, but it was soon over and
they nestled down in their mamma's comfortable arms and went to sleep.

* These babies grew until they were large, round, green apples. The place
where the hailstones hurt them made a bruised spot on their cheeks.

Baby Grey thought of her scar a moment, then began to cry and said: “No
use in living; I have a great, ugly spot on my cheek; no one will ever love me;
Iam just tired of living. I can never be pretty, nor can I ever be sweet
and nice as my sister on that long, beautiful branch. I am just going to give

up.

So she did, and pouted herself into a shriveled, dried-up apple.

Not so with Baby Gay. She said: “I know I can never be pretty on one
side, for the hail made such a large hole in my cheek, but I am not going to
give up in that way.

“Am I not put into the world to do something toward making some one
happy, if is only to be a mouthful of good apple for a hungry little boy?

“Tam going to turn my good cheek to the sunshine and make it grow so
fat and rosy that when little girls and boys see me they will forget all about my
bruised side, and will love me for what there is good in me. I will ask the
sunbeams to shine and shine on me so warm and bright that my coat will
grow as red as Mary’s cheeks, and my meat will be as juicy and sweet as
is possible for an apple’s to be. God made me to be a happy Baby Gay,
for He wishes all of His babies to be happy, and I am not goin’ to give up
and be cross and ugly just because Mr. Hail made a mistake and let some -
of his little stones hurt me. So much more is the reason that I should try to
be happy.”

The dear Baby Gay did as she said, and she grew, and grew, ‘and grew,
until her good cheek was as round, red, and juicy as a pippin could be. It
puffed around the bruised spot so closely that Hattie had to open her great
blue eyes pretty wide to find the scar when she came to pluck the apple for
little lame Carl.

  
 
 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

3 TROUBLE,

A SCHOOLBOY?

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

tf
4
y i

 

),
Wf

yy
Ghe Wross Rox.

T was arainy day and all the children had to stayin the house. Ned
had planned to go fishing, and Johnny wanted to set up a wind-mill he
had made. Susie wanted to gather her flower-seeds, and Pet was
anxious to hunt for her white kitten in the barns. So all were disap-
pointed, and, before the night, had become cross and peevish and

snappish. Mamma called all to her, and talked very gravely. They were
quiet for a while after it. In half an hour Ned brought a small box and showed
his mother. He had cut a little hole in the top, just large enough to let a cent
through, and under it were the words “cross box.”

“Look, mamma,” he said, “supposing whenever any of us speak cross we
make ourselves pay a cent fora fine? Susie and Johnny and Pet are so cross,
it would be a good thing. We'll try whocan keep out of the box the longest.”

Mamma laughed, and said it might be a very good plan if they all aes
to it; but if they did agree they must do as they promised.

“Tll agree,” said Susie, “I’m not going to be cross any more.”

“And I,” said Johnny.

“And I,” added Pet.

“What shall we do with all the money?” asked Susie.

“We'll buy a magic lantern,” replied Ned.

“No, we'll buy a whole lot of candy,” said Johnny.

“No,” added Susie, ‘“we’ll send it for a bed in thechildren’s hospital.”

“T tell you,” said Ned, angrily, “if you don’t do asI want to, I’ll pitch the
box out of the window.”

“Where's your penny, Ned?” asked mamma.

Ned looked very foolish, but brought the first penny and dropped it into
the box.

Mamma thought the box really did some good. The children learned to
watch against getting angry, and little lips would be shut tight to keep the ugly
words from coming through. When school began, they were so busy that the ~
box was forgotten. Weeks later mamma was putting a closet in order on Sat-
urday.

“Here's the cross box,” she said. |

_ “I’m going to see how much money there is,’ cried Ned “Seventeen cents.
That’s enough to buy lemons and nuts, and play peanut stand. Let’s do it.”

“Oh,” said Susie, ‘there goes poor littlelame Jimmy. I think it would be

hice to give it to him.”
“T say,” whimpered Pet.
“I wont!” whined Jonnny.
opr

No one knows what Ned was going to say, ina very crabbed voice, for just
then he clapped one hand on his mouth and with the other held up a warning

finger.

“Look out,” he half whispered, “or there’ll be more cents in the cross-box

for Jimmy.”

——=
ee (ene
SES———_—
Se

\Mhat Could the farmer Ho?

  
    
 
 

CNS TEN
\Wayey HERE was an old farmer who
Ei had a cow,
i Moo, moo, moo!
ot & She used to stand on the pump
po aS and bow,

And what could the farmer do?
Moo, moo, moo, moo,

Moo, moo, moo!
She used to stand on the pump and bow,
And what could the farmer do?

 
   

There was an old farmer who owned some
sheep,
‘Baa, baa, baa!
They used to play cribbage when he was
asleep,
And laugh at the farmer’s ma,
Baa, baa, baa, baa!
Moo, moo, moo!
He owned a cow and he owned some sheep,
And what could the poor man do?

There was an old farmer who owned a pig,
Whoof, whoof, whoof!
He used to dress up in the farmer's wig,
And dance on the pig-pen roof.
Whoof, whoof! Baa, baa!
Moo moo, moo!
“sia

Oe ——

He owned a pig, some sheep, and a cow,
And what could the poor man do?

There was an old farmer who owned a hen,
Cuk-a-ca-doo, ca-doo!

She used to lay eggs for the three hired men,
And some for the weasel, too.

Cuk-a-ca-doo! Whoof, whoof!
Baa, baa! Moo!

He owned a hen, pig, sheep, and a cow,
And what could the poor man do?

There was an old farmer who had a duck,
Quack, quack, quack!

She waddled under a two-horse truck
For four long miles andjback.

Quack, quack! Cuk-a-ca-doo!
Whoof! Baa! Moo!

With a duck, hen, pig, a sheep, and a cow,
Pray what could the poor man do?

There was an old farmer who owned a cat,
Mee-ow, mee-ow, mee-ow!

She used to waltz with a gray old rat
By night in the farmer’s mow,

Mee-ow! Quack! Cuk-a-ca-doo!
Whoof! Baa! moo!

With a cat, duck, hen, pig, sheep and a cow-
Pray what could the poor man do?

2
Snowball.

' EW! mew!” came a soft little cry from the porch by the
dining-room door. .

Minnie Vine, in the room all alone, eating her breakfast,
dropped her spoonful of bread and milk back into her mug
S and listened.

A little louder came the cry again—“Mew! mew! mew!”
Then Minnie ran and opened the door and caught up in her arms the

  

Cee
caret Il

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

little kitten she found there. It stopped crying and curled down in her arms,
purring softly.

Minnie ran to her mamma and asked her if she might keep the kitty for
her own. Mamma said she thought it was alittle runaway, but she might keep
it until she found the owner.

“Well, mamma, I want to give it some breakfast and name it,” said
Minnie.
“What will you name it?” asked mamma, smiling.

“It was so white, it looked lke a little snowball when I first saw it, and I
think Snowball would be a pretty name.”

For three days Minnie kept the kitten, and was beginning to think it was
really her own. She was sitting by the fire, rocking Snowball to sleep, when
some one knocked at the door. She went to open it, still holding the kitty in
her arms. A little boy stood there, who said: “I heard my kitten was here and
I came after it.”

“But are you sure it’s yours?” asked Minnie, tightening her hold of Snow-
ball.

“Yes, I’m sure, and I want it.”

When Minnie saw she must really let it go she thrust it into the boy’s
hands, saying: ‘‘Good-by, my poor little Snowball.” Running to her mamma
she climbed into her lap and cried very hard for her lost pet.

The next morning when Minnie came into the dining-room she heard that
same little cry at the door. Opening it, there was her dear little Snowball
come back to her.

She clapped her hands with delight, and said she should hide it if any one
came after it again; but mamma said: ‘When its owner comes after it again
perhaps he will sell it to you, for it seems to wish to stay here.”

And it was not long before the owner came. This time Minnie’s mamma
went to the door and asked him if he would let them keep his kitten, as she
seemed to want to stay with them.

“T will buy it,” she said, “aif you will sell it.”

Minnie held Snowball tightly while she waited for his answer.

“Well,” he said, after a little, ‘I don’t care much for a kitten that will run
away all the time. You may have her for ten cents.”

“Please give him more, mamma,” whispered Minnie, and Mrs. Vine handed
the delighted little boy a bright twenty-five cent piece.

“You are worth a great deal more than that,” said Minnie. Snowball
looked up at her and purred softly, as if she would say she knew that Minnie

was right.
6 —L. C.

 

 
Ghe Swallow-Gailed Hen.

WO dear little girls went out to
play,
And mamma said, as
skipped away,
“Don’t go to the barn, now

 
 

they

mind!
For we’ve shut up the chickens that came
to-day,
From the nest old Swallow-tail hid in the
hay

That nobody ever could find;
And the mother is clucking with all her
might,
Clucking and strutting and ready to fight:
Why even the men
Are afraid of the hen!
Don’t go to the barn, I say.”

“No! no!” cried the good little girls; “Not
wel”
So out they scampered the world to see;
Such a great big place for play!
The bird and the bee flew far and free,
And the children followed, so full of glee
They never noticed the way;
They leaped the logs near the buzzing mill,
Went over the fence and under the hill,
Waded the pond
To the barn beyond,
And the grand old “acorn-tree.’

Oh, and the sun was warm that day!
The dear little girls were tired of play,
So down they sat in the shade.
“Just hear hear old Swallow-tail cluck!”
Fay;
“Come on! Let’s go in the barn,” said May.
“Tt’s silly to be so ’fraid!”
So up she ran and took out the pin
From the staple that fastens the chickens in;
“Oh, oh!” cried she;
“Do come and see!
Come into the barn, I say

said

{?

Right in went the bold little girlies then,
In spite of the fowl that fought the men—
That grave old, brave old bird.
They counted the little ones, “eight, nine,
ten.”
They kissed them over and over again,
But the hen said never a word.
Puzzled and bothered and filled with doubt,
She walked and stalked and circled about
All ’round the floor,
Till she reached the door,
Then off went the swallow-tailed hen.

“Good-bye! good riddance
with a frown;
And she tucked the birdies all up in her
gown—
Wee roosters and comical pullets!
Such dear little, queer little balls of down,
Puffy and fluffy and yellow and brown,
With eyes as round as bullets!
Set a thousand like them up in a row
Not one could cackle, or cluck or crow’
But out they’d pop
And away they’d hop.
Just cunning from claw to crown!

quoth May

“But Swallow-tail’s gone, she’s gone!” sighed
Fay;

‘She'll never come back, she’s gone to stay, -
The poor little chicks will die!’
“Oh, ho! what a goose to be frightened away
By two little, kind little girls!” laughed May,
“That never would hurt a fly.
We'll just run out and shoo her back in,
And shut up the door, and put in the pin

So nobody’ll know,

Then off we'll go

To the saw-mill yard and play.”

Now where had Swallow-tail gone,oh, where
They hunted here, and they hunted there,
But the fowl had hidden well;
“We can't go way, it wouldn’t be fair,”
Said May, half crying; “I do declare.
I never should dare to tell!”
“] wish, I wish,” wept sorrowful Fay,
“We'd minded mamma, and kept away!
No use to talk!
Some terrible hawk
-Has carried her up in the air!”

But that was a great mistake of hers,
For, still as a mouse when Tabby stirs,
From the roof she peered below;
And a mother, as all the world avers,
Whether in satin, or feathers, or furs
Is a match for every foe.
But the very minute they came in sight
She pounced on May, like a flash of light;

Like the teeth of saws

Were the sharp, sharp claws,

And they clung to the child like burs.

Oh, the hen had whetted her horny beak!
‘And she pecked and pecked the pretty red
cheek

Till down the red blood rolled,
All the birds of the air heard little May
shriek!
Looked down and saw how a maiden meek,
Could fight like a soldier bold!
For Fay, with her little fat hands doubled
tight,
Went hitting old Swallow-tail, left and right,
Vet the hen stuck fast,
Till over at last
Fell May, all blinded and weak!

Away to her chickens, “eight, nine, ten,”
Went the terrible bird that scared the men,
And whipped disobedient girls;
And the children, safely at home again,
Owned all their naughtiness there and then,
While mamma smoothed the curls
And bathed the wounds all swollen and red;
But, though not an angry word she said,

To see her so sad,

Hurt ’most as bad

As the beak of the swallow-tailed hen!
—AMANDA T. JONES.

 

©hristmas ve.

ND ah! hark there!

41 On the midnight air

Comes the faintest tingle of fairy
bells.

They are coming near,

They are coming here,

And their sweet sound swelling of joy fore-

tells.

 

It is Santa Claus,

And he cannot pause;

But down the chimney he quickly slides;
Each stocking fills,

Till it almost spills,

Then gaily chuckles, and off he glides.

How happy he,

The saint to be

Of all the girls and all the boys!

He hears his praise

Thro’ the holidays,

As they eat their sweets, and break theiz
toys.

So still he smiles,

| And the time beguiles

Concocting schemes our hearts to cheer;

He loves us all,

And great and small

Regret that he comes but once a year.
—WILLIAM BARCLAY DUNHAM.
 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Diving the fees.

"HE bees have swarmed,” said Hal, as he rushed into the
kitchen where his mother was at work.

“What shall we do? Your father will not be at
home for several hours,” said the mother.

“Do! Why, I can hive them, ” said Hal. “I
watched papa hive the other swarm.”
“Do!” said the house-maid, before Hal had finished—<I'll tell you what to

 
do! Drum on pans and pails. Make all the noise you can, so they will alight.
That’s the way Carrie Barnes did when her bees swarmed. Her mother and
all the rest drummed on tin pans.”

Hal went to the barn for a new hive, and the children got pans and pails
and went to drumming with sticks. The house-maid got an old stove-pipe and
laid it across a broken cart-wheel and she drummed, making more noise than
all the rest.

“Oh, what a racket!” said Hal, as he dusted the hive and wet the inside
with sweetened water.

What the bees thought of the noise I do not know, but they soon began to
settle upon a raspberry-bush. I really think they went there because their
queen led them, but the house-maid thought it was because of the noise they
made.

While the children saw that the dark bunch grew larger and larger on the
raspberry-bush Hal put his father’s bee-veil over his hat, buttoned his coat to
the chin over it, and then drew on long gauntlet gloves.

“Now I’m ready for the bees,” said Hal.

“J wish I had a veil,” said Ruby.

“Tm going to crawl into this gunny-sack,” said little Ned, “and look
through the holes.”

Then all the little children pulled gunny-sacks over their heads, arms and
hands, and ran up close to the bees while Hal was hiving them.

Hal worked very gently. He pried up the bush. Taking hold of the top
of it with one hand he put the other hand under the roots and lifted the whole
mass of bees over the hive. He gave ita quick shake, which dropped the most
of them into the hive.

With great care and delicate touches he brushed the bees away from the
edge of the hive and replaced the cover.

“] don’t believe I have killed three bees,” said Hal, delighted with his
success. ‘‘I believe we should have lost that swarm if it had not been for you,
Hal,” added his mother.

“You mean if we hadn't drummed on the pans,” cried the house-maid.

When Hal’s father came his boy tried to look sober as he said: ‘‘Papa,
the bees swarmed two hours ago!”

His father looked at him a minute, adding: “And you have hived them?”

“Yes, sir,” said Hal, with sparkling eyes.

“You have done a good thing,” replied his father, proudly.

His father gave him that hive of bees, from which he has raised many

others.
—Mrs. O. HowaRD.
  
    

y HAT an ill-shapen monster is shown in this picture! It is
called the devil fish, and it is certainly well named. It is
called by this title not only on account of its ugly shape, but
because of its fierce attacks upon other inmates of the sea,
The real name of this fish is the Octopus, which means
eight-footed, though it is also known as the cuttle fish and
the squid. With its picture before us it is not necessary to
describe its shape. Indeed, this would be hard to do. The most
striking feature is the great staring eyes—which are said to be
larger than those of any other animal. They have been known to measure
eight inches in diameter. Think re
of two great eyes eight inches
across staring you in the face! Its®
eight arms are furnished with
little fleshy cups with shell-like
edges; these fasten to any object
coming within their reach and
cling so tightly that no victim can
escape the monster’s clasp until
its arms are cut off. Some kinds
of these fish have long feelers, or
tentacles, about three times the
length of the body of the fish. Its
width is nearly as great. Its
mouth is situated in the center of
the body and food is carried to it
by the arms, and it has not only
one but several rows of teeth. It
has a very funny way of moving;
instead of using its arms to help itself, as we would think, it breathes in large
quantities of water through its gills and then by a sudden motion Squirts the
water out of a tube near the head. This drives the fish backward like an
arrow. The Octopus is usually found in deep water, often-times among the
rocks on the bottom; although frequently found floating on the surface it seems
to prefer to live beneath the water. The color is black above and white be-
neath, though it possesses the strange power of changing its color so as to

 
appear like surrounding objects. When watching for prey it lies with arms rest-
ing and tenacles flying, looking much like sea-weed, but let a careless fish draw
near and it will be instantly dragged down by its terrible arms, which fold them-
selves about it and draw it to the central mouth, and all is over.

The Octopus has not been studied as carefully as many other sea mon-
sters. Living as it does in deep water it is not so easy to study. Many won-
derful stories are told by sailors of their lying upon the ocean looking like small
islands and of even taking hold of small ships and of drawing the vessel with
all its crew to the depthsbelow. Some of the smaller species have been driven
ashore even on our own coast. In theearly part of this century one was driven
ashore at the entrance of Delaware Bay and was so heavy as to require four
pair of oxen to bring it tothe shore. It was said to weigh about five tons, that
is, as much as ten good sized horses. It was seventeen feet long and eight-
teen feet wide. Its mouth was nearly three feet across. Do you wonder at its
strength?

During gales of wind, or in places where there is a small current, fishermen
often drive them into shallow water where they are usually captured, large
quantities of oil are then taken from their livers; so we see that even the
ugly devil fish, hideous as he is, may be made to serve the purpose of man.

Only five [M\inutes.

IVE minutes late and the table is| Five minutes late and school has begun,

 

spread, What are rules for, if you break every one?
~%| The children are seated and grace | Just as the scholars are seated and quiet
has been said; You hurry in with disturbance and riot.

Even the baby, all sparkling and rosy,

Sits in her chair by mamma, so Seay Five minutes late on this bright Sabbath
1ts 1n ’ .

morn;
Five minutes late and your hair all askew, All the good people to church have now

There is your chairand your tumbler and plate, Ah, when you stand at the Beautiful Gate,

Just as the comb was drawn hastily through. | gone.
Cold cheer for those who are five minutes late. What would you do if five minutes late?
: O)lga’s [P\armozets.

“BOVE all things keep the child amused,” said the Doctor ina
decided tone to Mrs. Wrangham, who had followed him out
of her little daughter’s sick-room to receive his latest directions.
“Good morning!’ and the busy doctor was down-stairs and driv-
ing away in his brougham before another word could be said.
af Poor Mrs. Wrangham! MHer’s was indeed a difficult task
She had but just lost [Byes cE Z

her husband, when her
only child, Olga, fell
ill, and as her malady
seemed to baffle the
country doctors she
was brought to the city
to beunderacelebrated
physician. He at once
pronounced the little
girl tobe suffering from
disease of the spine,
and whilst ordering her
very careful treatment,
he was most anxious,
as we have heard, that
she should have cheer-
ful surroundings.

 

    

“If only we were at
home,” sighed the poor
mother to herself, ‘I
couldthenasktheneigh-
bor’s children to look in
now and then. Theyare
always so good to Ol-
ga; but here I know
absolutely no one, and how can I amuse my poor child?”

She was tired out with grief and anxiety, and could no longer restrain her
tears, though she would gladly haveconcealed them, as she heard her landlady
tap at the door.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 
“Is the young lady worse, m’m?” asked the woman.

‘No, not exactly worse,” said Mrs. Wrangham; “but it will be a long case,
and the Doctor has just told me that my child must be amused, and I am
fairly puzzled to know how to doit.” She was nearly breaking down again.

“Don’t fret, m’m,” said the kind-hearted landlady. ‘Miss Olga is only a
child, and children are not difficult to amuse. Let me go and sit with her a little
bit, whilst you rest,” and without waiting for an answer she went up-stairs, and
Mrs. Wrangham gladly availed herself of the opportunity of washing away all-
traces of tears.

Olga was lying perfectly straight on her invalidcouch, but she looked wist-
fully up as the landlady entered the room. ‘‘Where’s mother?” she asked; “‘is
she with the Doctor still?”

“Doctor! Oh, dear, no; he’s been gone some time, Miss Olga. Your
mamma will be here ina minute, I’m sure, but she said I might come and see
you first, for I wanted to tell you about some queer pets my sailor nephew has
just brought me from Brazil—marmozets he calls them. Such soft, loving
little things—sort of monkeys they are, and I was wondering if you would like
to see them.”

“Oh, do bring them up here!” exclaimed Olga, eagerly. “I should so like
tosee them.” _

“Tl fetch them at once,” said the landlady good-naturedly; and in a few
minutes she was back again, and in her arms were two little marmozets, who
were uttering little shrieks something like the shrill singing of a bird. “They
always make that noise when they’re frightened,” explained the woman; “for
they are timid little creatures, but so loving and affectionate.”

“Oh, the little beauties!” cried Olga, her eyes beaming with delight. ‘Oh,
please let, me have them—put them here inthe shawl. Oh, see how they cud-
dle up tome! They are almost like tiny kittens, only they have monkey’s
faces, and such long, skinny hands, and very long tails. Oh, I do love these
dear little things!”

Mrs. Wrangham just.now entered the room, and could hardly believe it
was Olga who was speaking so eagerly and looking so interested—she who gen-
erally was,still and listless.

“See, mother!” cried: the: child, “look at the httle dears! What do you
give them to eat?” she asked, suddenly speaking to the landlady. ‘Woulda
bit of sponge-cake hurt them?”

“No, they’d enjoy that, and they like fruit, too. See here, Miss Olga! Let
me put them on the table here, and.if they may have a cherry or two off this
dish, you'll see how they'll eat.”
So some cherries and currants were put on the table that stood by Olga’s
couch, and the two little marmozets pounced hastily upon them, even throwing
down Olga’s delicate sponge-cakes in their anxiety to begin on the fruit.

In a minute or two, however, they again uttered their comical little cry of
terror, and, clinging together, they retreated against a pot of geraniums which
stood on the edge of the table.

“T see what's the matter,” cried Olga; “it’sthose wasps! They must have
come in by the window after the fruit. The marmozets are afraid of them;
drive them away, please, mother dear.”

Mrs. Wrangham and the landlady both got up to chase away the intruders,
but the wasps were loth to leave the fruit, and gave a great deal of trouble
before they were finally driven out of the window. Meanwhile, Olga lay back
on her pillows and fairly laughed out loud at all the fuss and bustle!

When the little animals were at last taken down-stairs again Olga asked
her mother for a book on natural history, and Mrs. Wrangham, only too glad
to gratify any wish of her child, at once borrowedone. It was, however, rather
a disappointment, for it said very little about marmozets, merely stating that
they were of the genus Hapale, from the Greek, meaning soft and gentle, and
that they were chiefly found in the forests of Brazil, where they lived on nuts
and fruit, and on fish and eels, which they could catch for themselves, for,
though small, they were very strong and active.

* * % & * * * * *

When, at the end of the month, the little girl was sufficiently recovered to
be able to return home, both little marmozets went with her, for the landlady

declared it would be a shame to separate such friends.
—E. AB,

 

 

 

 

4d
fifty Sears PAgo. .

~H, the battles we fought in
the olden times,
The snow-balls and bloody
noses,
As worthyto be rehearsed
in rhymes
Asthe Britishers’ “Wars of the Roses!”

  
 
 

How the weird, white, whizzing missiles flew,
Like shot from a Gatling gun;

As the battle fierce and fiercer grew—
Wa'n’t it fun!

At mornings, our baskets with ample supply
Of goodies, a plentiful store;

Doughnuts and sausage and pie—pumpkin

pie!

And when empty we all wanted more.

Then hurrah! for the sport and the glee;
The wrestle ring, tripping with heel and
with toe—
Now doubling, now twisting, now pinioned,
now free;
Now all in a heap in the snow,
Rough and tumble we go!

_ And do you remember the spelling school
bees, :
And Marshall’s old speller, our pride,
When “phthisic” and “heifer” and “victuals”
and “frieze”
Were the stunners so few could abide?
And so we went down on each side!

Then the bragging and betting and boasting,
Over sleds, in those old bygone days;

And the marvelous speed of the coasting
That would stir up a clamor or craze?

Down “iilside dashing,
Through snow spray flashing,

Into deep hollows crashing,

Midst the mealy snow banks splashing——
Gracious! how we sped!

A dozen on a sled.

The lusty shouting of the boys;
The half scared daring of the girls;
The grand, tumultuous, healthful joys,
The flash and flutter of wanton curls—
O,’twas fun! wa’n’t it,boys—wa’'n’t it, girls?
When plump into snowdrifts like lightning
we flew,
With a thug and a whirl;
And for three glorious minutes we none of
us knew
Which was boy; which was girl!
Aye, wa’n't it fun! .

But the “girls” are to grandmothers grown,
And we “boys” are grandfathers, too;
We bow to the marvel and own
The incredible true.

But there is something that never grows old
In the man who has acted his part;

In the woman who lives to unfold

The blossom God plants in her heart.

Full fifty years, and can it be!
Five rounded decades told;
Ploughed with the deeds of history,
And sown with seeds—-a hundredfold
Of glorious harvest yet to reap,
In coming decades, when
From graves where our great martyrs sleep
Shall grow a race of men
Whose lives shall make the state
And nation great,
From Plymouth Rock to Golden Gate.
Purging the land!

 
Gn |nquiring [D\ind.

ACN inquiring mind, they say, is a great blessing. Benedict was
blessed with more than the usual amount of curiosity gener-
ally attributed to the young Americans of every generation.

  
 
    

“3 o Wir] say “blessed,” but lam notsure but those who knew him
Ke le a would have said “cursed,” for it led him into all sorts of
“x Re mischief and trouble.

a his From his earliest lisp his life was to those around him one huge

Soy

Ct interrogation point—he must know the whys and wherefores of every-
thing. From the time he cried for the moon and could not be made to

understand why he could not have it, his PUEDE’ seemed formed to devote

all his energies to scientific research.

At a very tender age he had ruined his sister's large wax doll in the vain
attempt to discover the philosophy of its “crying” and “going to sleep,” had
smashed the best mirror to see how his reflection got between the glass and the
wooden back, had amputated the cat’s tail to see if another would grow and if
she really had nine, had helped a brood of chickens prematurely from their
shell, and the kittens to get their eyes open at a very early period of their
existence, and had carried out other devices fully as original.

He soon became a terror to his brothers and sisters, and to all his young
playmates. He never kept a toy fora day himself, nor allowed them to do
so. They must all be sacrificed to his propensity for finding out the mechan-
ism of everything.

On this account he never could be left at home alone, and must accompany
his parents everywhere, much to the annoyance of their friends. But his fond
parents would say that their Allan wes so ingenious, he was sure to be a great
philosopher or inventor some day. Had they tried, they at first might have
directed his “ingenuity” in the proper channel, but they feared to restrain it,
lest they should nip his future philosophical experimentsin the bud. But when
he ruined his father’s fine gold chronometer to see ‘‘what made the wheels go
‘round,” and his mother’s new sewing machine for the same purpose—the bud
nipped him.

‘But the halcyon time in Allen’s existence was the week between the winter
holidays. This was usually spent at some of the homes of numerous uncles
and aunts, or else at his grandparents’. There different surroundings opened
a new field to him, and the numerous holiday toys proved fresh food for
thought and mischief. But one year at his grandfather's he came to grief,
 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

NG EXPERIMENT.

 

 

 

 

NTERESTI

ANI

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 
which nearly terminated his earthly career, and certainly aided in shortening |
his philosophical one. His visit was almost over, to the secret delight of nota

few. He had already opened the old-fashioned bellows which hung near the

fire-place, to see where the wind came from, and how it got there, had alter-

nately fastened chairs to the weights of the ancient clock in the hall and taken

the weights entirely off to note the different effects; and when a housemaid had

unwisely told him that the old manin the clock would get after him if he didn't

leave it alone, he was found one morning fearlessly stirring the works up witha

poker to “let the old man out.”

The week had nearly exhausted his resources, when a happy thought
struck him in theshape of Uncle John’s powder-horn on the mantel. He won-
dered if it would go off like a gun if he threw it in the fire. He tried it. The
horn didn’t go off, but he did. The report that was heard was loudér than a
gun—groans and screams aroused the whole house.

He lay embalmed in lint and salve for two weeks, the burden of his con-
versation being that he would never meddle with another thing as long as he
lived. This closed the experimental career of the Benedict family’s great phi-
losopher and inventor, for when he arrived at the prime of life his only gift to
his country had been a troop of young Benedicts, in whom he had perpetrated
as much love for research as he himself had ever possessed.

 
©raeie’s [iission.

stood a hundred in spelling to-night,” said little Gracie Elwood, joy-
ously, as she ran lightly into the sitting-room after school. ‘But oh,
mamma! Carrie Olsen wrote every one of her words at her seat, all
right you know, and then just traced them over in the class. I didw? -
think she'd do such a thing as ¢hat, did you? The teacher knew it in
a minute. But I don’t believe she'll ever doit again. The teacher talked to
her, and she felt very badly about it.”

Mrs. Elwood’s mother-heart was stirred immediately. She knew Carrie
Olsen to be a timid, quiet, sensitive little foreigner, not quite ‘‘a stranger ina
strange land,” and yet not quite at home among her American playmates. She
knew, too, that Carrie was not naturally given to deception, and she wondered
—well, she wondered if children’s faults were ever dealt with quite as carefully
as they ought to be.

“Oh, lam so sorry!” she said to Gracie. ‘Doesn't Carrie study?”

“Yes, she studies. But shehasn’t any book. She has to take mine before
recess.”

“Can you not help her? Can you not hear her spell the words at noon or
recess?”

“IT don’t believe I could. She would want to play.”

“But why not play school and all spell your lessons?”

“Oh, the girls wouldn’t. They'd spell wrong just for fun.”

“If you said to them, ‘Please let us spell them right so as to learn them,’
wouldn’t they?”

“T’d rather let some oneelse be teacher, mamma; I teach so much,” said
Gracie, still shrinking from this which her mother wished her to do.

Mrs. Elwood divined that she did not like to assume any superiority over
her little mates, and respected the instinct. But she knew, too, that her wise,
womanly, warm-hearted little daughter was a favorite in school, and had much
power to wound or gladden those: about her; a power that carried with it re-
sponsibility for both mother and child.

“At any rate, Gracie, you will be good to her? She needs some one to be
good to her now. You will play with her, and help ‘her all you can?” .

“Oh, yes, mamma. I always do.”

And mamma knew that she always meant to be kind and loving toward all,
though doubtless she sometimes failed.
The day following, when school closed, Gracie went home more sedately,
though none the less happily.

“Mamma,” she said, with a slight touch of awe, “Mrs. Olsen called me up
to the gate, this morning, and asked me if I wouldn’t help Carrie get her lessons.

‘She said Carrie came home from school last night crying, and cried all
night, and she couldn’t find out what was the matter, I didn’t tell her, mam-
ma, I thought I wouldn’t. She said she-.guessed Carrie found some one to play
with in school, but Carrie doesn’t. She can’t learn quite so easily, that’s all.
I helped her to-day, though, andshe only missed one word to-night. Wont
her mother be glad! And I’m going to help her every day now.”

So, although she was not looking for it, and would never have called it by
that name, Gracie had found a “mission,” while Mrs. Elwood thanked God for
the trust reposed in her little daughter, and prayed for wisdom to guide the

child aright, that the trust might not be violated.
—MaRI0On LISLE.
, ee tee

Boy's \Manted Fhe @ittle @ad’s Answer.
RG

AAANTED—a boy.” How often we & UR little lad came in one day
These very common words may ©) With dusty shoes and tired feet—
see. SA His playtime had been hard and long
Wanted—a boy to errands run, Out in the summer’s noontide heat.

 

Wanted for everything under the sun.
All that the men to-day can do
‘To-morrow the boys will be doing too,
For the time is ever coming when
The boys must stand in place of men.

Wanted—the world wants boys to-day,
And she offers them all she has for pay.
Honor, wealth, position, fame,

A useful life and a deathless name.
Boys to shape the paths for men,

Boys to guide the plow and pen,

Boys to forward the tasks begun,

For the world’s great work is never done.

The world is anxious to employ

Not just one but every boy

Whose heart and brain will e’er be true
To work his hands shall find to do
Honest, faithful, earnest, kind;

To good awake, to evil blind;

Heart of gold without alloy,

Wanted: The world wants such a boy.

“I’m glad I’m home,” he cried, and hung
His torn straw hat up in the hall,
While in a corner by the door
He put away his bat and ball.

“I wonder why,” his auntie said,
“This little lad always comes here,
When there are many other homes
As nice as this, and quite as near.”
He stood a moment deep in thought,
Then, with the love-light in his eye,
He pointed where his mother sat,
And said, “She lives here, that is why!”

With beaming face the mother heard;
Her mother-heart was very glad.
A true, sweet answer, he had given—
That thoughtful, loving little lad.
And wellI know that hosts of lads
Are just as loving, true, and dear;
That they would answer ashe did,
“Tis home, for mother’s living here.”
—By Susan TEALL PERRY,
me

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

@n Gast |ndian Byome.

ET your map and perhaps you can find the island of New
Guinea. Ah, here itis, lying near the equator and extending
several hundred miles south of that. This island is worth our
study. It is about four times as large as the six New England
states. Of course, no frost is known in that region—the trees
» are always green, the flowers always blooming. Here we find
the banana, the palm, the cocoanut and fruits in abundance. Our picture
shows the banana tree in front and a couple of cocoanut trees in the rear.
These trees usually surround the homes of the East India man. They are
chosen not for ornament and shade but for their fruit. These fruits are not the
most abundant and cheapest in the island, yet almost any other could be gotten
along without much better than they.

The banana is to the East India people what bread is to the Americans.

 
The cocoanut not only furnishes them food but its oil is used for light and a
cooling, pleasant drinx is also obtained from it. The houses in that part of the
world are very much alike. The poorer class—and those include nearly all the
people —build entirely with bamboo and roof with palm leaves. No sound of
hammer is heard in building these houses; a saw and hatchet is all that is
. needed. The sawcuts the poles intoa required length. The hatchet splits
and dresses those that are to be used for siding and floor. The posts are set
firmly in the grounda few feet apart and some eight feet above the surface.
The first and only floor is laid a few feet above the ground; the rafters are set
at a moderate pitch. The poles and slats are tied together when necessary.
The palm leaf shingles that are then put upon them are fastened in the same
way. The leaves which are used for this purpose are from the mangrove; they
are long and narrow and while green are bent over a stick about three feet long,
so as to lie in courses. One of these leaf roofs, when laid well, will last from
eight to ten years without leaking. The houses have no windows. Upon one
side is a door that can be opened and shut at pleasure; this door is made of
basket work and serves to let in the light. The lower story of the house is
never enclosed. This is, they say, due toa fear of the overflow of rivers, the
fear of wild beasts and serpents and also the thought that sickness results from
living and sleeping onthe ground. It would seem that this mode of building is
rather a habit than anything else, as in every locality, even where there is no
danger of overflow from water or where are no serpents or wild beasts, the houses
are builtinthe sameway. If anativeis asked why the houses are built so high,
the usual answer is, ‘Our houses are frail and we build high to keep away from
robbers.” The door is reached by a light narrow ladder, which by night is
drawn up, and with the door tied the natives feel quite secure. No fire is ever
built in one of these dwellings; the cooking is done outside.. The furniture is
very meagre indeed; it seldom exceeds two or three grass mats, a couple of rush
pillows, a rice pot and frying pan of earthenware, a betel box and a spittoon.
The cost of these houses is not very great. They seldom exceed $12 or $15,
and one native reported to his employer, after an absence of four days, “that.
he had married a wife and built and furnished a house, all atan expense of $6.00.”
Not all the people of New Guinea are fortunate enough to have houses. Thou-
sands live, year in and year out, without a roof of their own to give them shelter,
with only the ground for their bed and the sky for covering. Nature has pro-
vided soabundantly for these people that they are but little disposed to provide
for themselves.

 
Ghe [®\issing Peneil-@ase.

R( TWAS an aluminum pencil-case, ‘warranted to wear like 18-carat
gold,” which George had bought for twenty-five cents of a jeweler
in Kingsthorpe who was selling off his surplus stock. Arthur was
@> much struck with the elegance and desirability of the purchase.

“T’ll swap with you for it!” he said. “I'll give you my two-
bladed knife and a big jew’s-harp.”

“Hah! Don’t you wish you may get it?” responded Geerge.

But undisguised admiration, with, perhaps, a covetousness—for
Iam not going to make out that Arthur Hewlet was perfection—
were visible in his cousin’s eyes as they lingeringly followed the return of the
pencil to George’s breast-pocket.

The two boys, with some companions, spent the greater part of that after-
noon, which was a half-holiday, in playing “rounders” on the common. George,
who in anything of this sort displayed tremendous energy, took off his jacket
and threw it on the grass, near at hand, that he might have the freer use of his
arms.

“Oh, I say!” he observed to his chum, Parkins, as they returned home;
“you haven’t seen what I bought in Kingsthorpe yesterday.”

He felt in his breast-pocket, but no pencil was there.

“]—what—why! Where's it gone?” he queried in consternation, standing
still that he might the better search in every one of his pockets. “Why, I’ve
never gone and lost it, surely!”

“Lost what?”

“A jolly nice gold pencil-case—or as good as gold—that I gave a shilling
for!” answered George. ‘Well, it’s gone, anvhow, as clean as a whistle! Well,
now, here’s a go!”

“Tt might have fallen out when you took your coat off,” suggested Parkins.
The others were far ahead by this time, and Arthur out of sight. ‘“Let’s go
back and see.”

They did so, searching the grass upon their hands and knees for a radius
of several yards from the place where the game had been played, and so nar-
rowly that nothing larger than a needle could have escaped their sharp eyes.
But nothing did they find but a button off Percy Powell’s waistcoat—he was
continually shedding his buttons wherever he went!—and as the spring twilight
began to close in they were compelled to give up in despair.

   
 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 
“It zsa rum thing!” quoth Parkins. ‘You say you had it in your hand,
showing it to Arthur, just before you came out?”

“Yes, And I’m positively certain I put it in my left-hand breast-pocket.
A jolly shame I call it!”

Something in George’s tone caused Parkins tu glance at him curiously, but
the latter made no remark.

At home George made a grand fuss about his loss and the ‘‘shame” it was,
making himself and everybody around him quite miserable over it. At school
he adopted a somewhat different tone, and, without saying anything openly,
contrived, by hints and ominous silences, to communicate to a chosen few his
suspicions concerning the matter, which were nothing less than that Arthur
had stolen the pencil-case out of the pocket of his coat while it lay on the
ground!

It was very shocking that George should be able to think such a thing of
his cousin, and did not speak very well for his own uprightness of character.

“But I know he’s a young sneak, with his smooth, soft ways!” he said to
himself.

Not many days after Percy Powell mysteriously beckoned George into a
nice quiet corner of the play-ground, alone.

“T say,” he began confidentially and with a knowing look, ‘‘young Arthur's
got a gold pencil-case just like the one you say you've lost!”

“Has he? How do you know?” George eagerly asked.

“Saw it! I had my eye on him when he didn’t think, and he brought the
thing out of his pocket and began fingering it. But he popped it away pretty
quick when he caught sight of me!”

“The young thief!” said George, savagely, between his teeth.

“Why don’t you tax him with it?” asked Percy.

“He'd be sure to make up some tarradiddle or other,” answered George,
who shrank from openly charging his cousin with theft and giving him a chance
to vindicate himself, which would at least have been a manly thing to do, though
he was cowardly enough to blacken his character in secret. ‘Besides, he’s
mother’s pet, you know, and as I’m living with them they can make things
precious hot for me if they like!”

Rapidly the poison spread. The boys eyed Arthur askance, and. ‘“‘cold-
shouldered” him, and daily sent him farther on his lonesome journey to
“Coventry.” The poor lad was troubled and puzzled enough at this strange
behavior, as may be supposed, but from no one could he get anything like a
satisfactory explanation.

About ten days from the date of George’s loss his birthday came round.
Among numerous presents from friends and relations was one from Arthur:
an aluminum pencil-case, as nearly as possible like the one that had disap-
peared! Not its exact counterpart, however, for the chasing in this case was in
perpendicular lines, whereas that on George’s choice was in a spiral form.

“Arthur had planned to get one for himself,” his aunt privately informed
him, “but seeing how you grieved about the loss of yours he bought it for you
instead.”

How red George turned, and how mean he felt!

lam glad to say that he took the earliest opportunity of telling this fact
to allthe boys whom he had caused to share his own unworthy and uncharitable
suspicions, and George was glad, too, when, shortly afterward, spring cleaning
revealed the missing pencil-case snugly concealed beneath the edge of the
dining-room carpet, and Aunt Annie’s careful scrutiny discovered a small hole
in the corner of her nephew’s left breast-pocket, which he had declared was
quite secure.

   
 

wegen §
SS

 
 

 
 

=
=

         
Robbie's Sleigh-Ride.

OBBIE DAWSON did so hate to write compositions, and now
he must have one about ‘‘goats” ready to be handed in by the
next Thursday. It was Tuesday already, and he didn't know
any more about goats than he did the week before, when his
subject was given him. He told his Uncle Robert that all he

8 knew about them was that they were a very fine thing for a boy
to have, and he wished he had one to drive.

Finally a happy thought struck him. “I'll go and get Uncle Robert to
write it for me,” said he to himself. ‘“He’s going back to New York next
week, and it’s a pity if he can’t do a favor for a fellow before he goes.”

Uncle Robert was easily found but not so easily persuaded, as Robbie
found to his sorrow.

“Look here, Robbie, my boy,” said he, ‘“‘your schooling wont be of the
least benefit to you, as you will learn to your cost when it is too late to rectify,
if you are going to get some one else to do all the tasks set before you. You
are the one that needs the discipline, not I, but if I were to do it I would reap
all the benefits, and you would reap allthe harm. Besices, it would be cheating
your teacher. :

“But I'll tell you what I will do. Find out all you can about goats, their
home, nature, use, etc.; copy it neatly twice, once for me and once for your
teacher. Hand your teacher hers, and if she accepts hers I will mine, and will
send you a live specimen of the animal as soon as I get home, providing that
you promise hereafter to do all the tasks assigned you without seeking or re-
ceiving unlawful assistance.”

“Tt’s a bargain,” said Robbie, and off he rushed to the library for pencils,
papers, and book helps.

By Wednesday night two neatly written sheets of foolscap lay in his
desk, one addressed to his teacher, and the other to his Uncle Robert. They
were both delivered with great solemnity Thursday morning. Friday, at
close of school, the teacher returned hers so that he might practice for reading
it at the close of the term the next week. It was marked too per cent.

He took it home in high glee, and proudly showed it to his uncle, whe
seemed as much pleased as he.

Uncle Robert left the following morning for New York, and before another
week rolled round Robbie was in possession of not one goat, but two, labeled
Punch and Judy.

 
 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 
Such fun as Robbie had that winter! His father made him a neat little
sleigh, which would hold three or four, and after school Robbie would make up
a sleigh-load of school-girls, and with the boys in tow on their sleds behind, they
would have fine rides up and down the neighboring hills. Punch and Judy
seemed to enjoy it as muchas the boys and girls, and Punch especially seemed
to think he couldn’t get down the hills half fast enough, and so would go
prancing along, plowing the snow with his horns, and kicking his feet straight
out behind him, to the great danger of the dash-board.

Robbie ever thereafter wrote his own compositions, and soon excelled in
that branch. Ido not think he even thought of asking help; if he did, he
thought of Punch and Judy, too, and immediately repented.

See!

fo

Ghe Moll’s

£ 'M ’vited to the wedding, |
| And have to make a dress;
I want a lot of ’lusion,
A hundred yards I guess—
I think [H make it “princess,”
I couldn’t wear it plain;
It’s very fashionable
To have a plaited train.

It’s Rosa Burdock’s wedding,
To-morrow, just at three,

In Mamie Turnbull’s garden
Under the apple-tree;

The bridegroom's Colonel Bracebridge,
He wears a sword and plume,

To show that he’s a soldier—
zt’s stylish, I presume.

We made some sugar-water,
And Mamie’s got a cake;

I never saw such good ones
As her mamma can make.

\Dedding.

She puts on plenty frosung
And lots of sugar plums—

I guess we'll have the ’freshments
Before the min’ster comes.

We've got to pick some dandelines
To make a chain and ring—
Louise will play the jew’s-harp,
And Mamie and I will sing;
We'll have to say the ’sponses,
They couldn’t if they tried—
But Rosa is so el’gant
She’ll make a lovely bride.

We'll have to stand the Colonel
Against a piece of board,
Or maybe he can stand up
By leaning on his sword.
Come now, this is to-morrow—-
Let’s get our hats and shawls,
Bring June and Zephyrine,
And all the other dolls.

—KaTE ALLYN
EJulictte.

ID you ever own a nice horse who was full of fun and mischief
and whose eye seemed to have a laugh init? Let me tell you
about such a one. She was as black as jet; she had a
white star in her face, and a white stocking on her left hind
foot. She was roundand plump and very quick in her motions,
She could trot, rack, pace and run, and under the saddle was a
charmer. Her name was Juliette. Asa colt she took the lead
in mischief,

She could untie a bow-knot even when the end of the strap
was put through the bow and drawn up tightly. But she was not so foolish as
to do this when there was no occasion. But omit feeding her when the other

   

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

horses were fed, and then step out of the barn for a few moments; suddenly
return, and she would be found untied andin a stall with another horse, helping
herself to his grain. She had three associates, whom she led into mischief in
the night. She would open the barn-door, which was fastened with a hook and
staple; open the barn-yard gate by drawing out the pin that held it. She

’
would let down the bars with her teeth, and lead her three trusting companions
into the grain field. There they would be found in the morning, while she had
returned to the barn before the boys were up. She had such an innocent look
when she had been on these excursions that it would call forth one’s admira-_
tion. When I rode her to bring back the colts she seemed to know what we
were after. She would go quite direct to where those wicked colts could be
found, and we would chase them home in a hurry.

One night a mysterious noise was heard at the barn. Horse-thieves were
not unknown, and, as we had the best horses in the neighborhood, great anxiety
was felt. Father drew himself softly out of his warm bed. Revolver in hand,
he went carefully and quietly out of the house, followed by a courageous bull-
dog.

You can imagine his astonishment when, instead of finding horse-thieves,
he found Juliette standing with the raised pump-handle in her mouth trying to
pump water, while the three colts, with unbounded confidence in her ability,

stood at the trough watching her with expectant eyes.
—CHILION B, ALLEN,

a

4 5-7) A S

Ghe P\utting.

°/HESTNUTS are ripe—. Chestnuts are ripe—

 
 

Are ripe, and now from the prickly | Are ripe, and now when berries are few
burr The brown nuts fall,
The brown nuts fall, And here,
And bound With a cheer,
To the ground From far and near, |
With a twinkling sound, In the sparkling sun the boys appear
Where the woodlawn folk are camped around, At the end of the pasture wall;
At the end of the pasture wall, Bitten with brambles, washed in dew,
With tonguesthat chatter and wingsthat whir, Ruddy and brown, a barefoot crew,
Birds in feathers and hearts in fur— Each with his sack
Squirrel and jay, Like a peddler’s pack,
And chipmunk gay— They climb, and shake, and cudgel, and
They scrape, and scamper, and scold and play. thwack,
While the little white worm in the midst of | But the little white worm in the midst of the
the storm storm

Grows fat on his diet and laughs at them all. Feasts on the kernel and laughs at them all.

M

 
 

OUSE spiders we know all about, but there is one little brown
spider, that lives on all our rivers, more curious than any other.

In the fall of the year she builds herself a little boat, which

never upsets, let the wind be ever so high. It is made of only a
leaf/—bent together with strong cables the spider makes.

Then away she goes, down the stream, first to one side, and
then the other. On the voyage the spider catches small insects on the water,
as her tiny boat hurries on with the tide. You cannot see her unless you look
very sharp, because she is just the color of the leaf she is on!

In the point of the leaf you would find a sort of tent, loosely spun, where
she often goes. There she has hidden a precious little silken ball, filled with
very small yellow eggs. But she is so quick in her movements that before you
know it she is out of sight and on the ocean. Whether she ever gets there, or
hides away until the warm weather comes back again, nobody knows!

—Mrs. G. HALL.
@he @rows’ ©ouneil. .

We/@s) HE crows of Crow Hollow were very angry. They held indignation

) meetings on every tree and fence corner in the neighborhood, until
the air was filled with the sound of their shrill “Caw! Caw!” and the
spiteful flutter of black wings. The object of their wrath, the innocent
cause of their general uprising, was nothing but Farmer Brown's wind-
mill, that stood just back of the barn, and just within the boundary of his corn
lot.

Now this particular crow family had made its home for years in this neigh-
borhood. In fact, they made it their regular summer resort, and yearly, as
spring returned, they returned with it from their winter residence in the south.
You see that the crows of Crow Hollow were very tony birds. They had their
winter residence and theirsummer resort. These crows, by great industry and
patience in plying their trade, which was helping themselves to Farmer Brown's
corn, made anice living. Years before the family had been small, and had
lived in very plain style, but every year their numbers had grown larger and
larger, until now they looked upon themselves as a regular community. They
held their heads very high, and looked down upon the other birds in the neigh-
borhood. They looked upon men and scare-crows with contempt. In fact,
they considered that man was but a walking scare-crow, and that both were a
lower order of beings brought into existence for their benefit. It was man’s
business to provide food for them, while the scare-crow served as a very con-
venient roosting-place and a sort of look-out from which they could make
plans for future depredations. As they had lost all fear of both men and scare-
crows they naturally began to look upon the country as their own, and bye
and bye began to think that it was very generous of them to allow Farmer
Brown and his fellow farmers to till the land without payment of rent.

So it was with deep indignation and injured self-esteem that, upon their
return from the south one spring, they found that Farmer Brown had put up
the largest kind of a scare-crow upon his corn lot, and to make it worse, the
thing had only one leg, and no head to speak of, but had four arms which it
kept in constant motion, as if to hide its deformities. Oh, how the crows did
“Caw!” and flap their wings. ‘“Itis an insult!” criedone. “He shall be punished
for this!’ said another. “I wonder if he thinks we are fools, or have not cut our
eye teeth yet?” asked one hot-headed young crow. ‘We will show him,” and
with that away he flew with several companions, direct into the monster's great
whirling arms. Alas! There was more fluttering of feathers than had been

 
 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 
counted on. The wind-mill kept right on turning, and three black crows lay
stretched on the ground. Theremainder of the colony witnessed this sad dis-
aster with dismay. There was a general uplifting of claws, and a tearing of
feathers among them. Something must be done, some decisive measure
adopted. The old crows were for council, but as before the younger ones were
for war. ‘In numbers lies strength!” was their motto, and in spite of the warn-
ings and pleadings of the old crows, the younger ones formed themselves into
a body, and were off like the wind, thinking to carry the foe by storm. But the
foe carried them—at least part of them, for four ran on its big arms, then
dropped lifeless by the side of their late companions. Six were badly wounded
and hobbled back to the colony, where for years they drew a pension the same
as the veterans in any other war. The remaining body of crows, when they
saw their companions killed and wounded, beat a Hap retreat, sorrowful and
crest-fallen, and all was confusion.

At last it was decided to calla council, so a committee of twenty-five
were chosen, with their president as chairman, to discuss the matter and see
what it was best to do. But the dead crows must first be buried, so a coroner’s
inquest was called, the funeral services were held, andthe crows all came clad
in the deepest mourning. Grief was seen on every countenance. At first no
one had much to say, but after a while they began to talk and each one sug-
gested some way of ridding themselves of this terrible monster. But none of
their plans seemed likely to work. At last, the president, who was a wise old
crow, proposed to call in some of the crows who had been members of the at-
tacking party, and to cross-question them as to the conduct of the enemy at the
time of the encounter. So three young crows were brought in, and placing his
glasses securely on the bridge of his nose, the president began to question them
in the following manner:

“Didn't the enemy retreat when he saw you coming?” said the judge.

“No, it did not, your Honor,” replied the crow.

“Didn't it advance to meet you?”

“No. It stayed in just the same place from mrst to last.”

“Then this monster has not been known to leave -its place to attack any
of our numbers in the field?”

“No, your Honor. We have been in the field several times since, both to
look around and to get food, but it did not appear to see us.”

“Just as I thought, just as I thought!” said the wise old crow, as he care-
fully took off his glasses and polished them onone wing. ‘Now you may go,”
said he, turning to the witnesses, who thereupon flew off a short distance.
“Just as I thought!” he said again. ‘Now my opinion is and has been that if

9 L
we let that thing alone, it will let us alone. Our witnesses tell us that it has
never been known to move, and for my part I would as soon expect these trees
to turn about and chase us as that. Of course it swings its arms around, but
that it cannot help. It is its nature to swing its arms, and if we get within
reach of them we must expect to get hurt. I believe if we crows will let it alone
and mind our own business it will not bother us in any way.”

Approval of the judge’s decision was seen on every face. The committee
adjourned to report to the community, and the community adopted the report
with every claw uplifted, and ordered it spread on the records. After that the
crow family thrived, and though still a little afraid of the wind-mill, seeing that
it took no notice of them they finally grew so bold that they went daily to the
trough at its feet, where the cattle drank, for their morning bath, and to wash
down the corn which sometimes stuck in their greedy throats. You may be sure,
however, that they took good care to keep out of the way of its long arms and
their deadly embrace. :

Mora; —Shun evil and evil will shun you.

IG

eee ——

Iw

ome Bay.

NOPH, tell me when does Some day

come,
( That wonderful bright day,
” Where all the best times are put
off,
And pleasures hid away!
1 know the rest of all the days
Just as they read and run;
Can say and spell them week by week,
And count them one by one.

   

They bring me now and then, fine things,
Gay toys, and jolly play;
But never, never such fine things

 

As are kept hid away

In that great wonder-land, that lies
Forever out of sight,

Which I can never, never find
By any day or night.

But some time, ah! I’m very sure,
When I grow big and tall,

I'll find the way to that Some day,
And hidden there, find all

The treasures I have wanted so,
And missed from day to day—

The treasures they have always said
That I should have Some day.

 
    

HAT a wonderful little creature this is! It does all its work in
the night. It builds a comfortable home right in the side of a
bank. It is exactly round, and no bigger than a quarter of a
dollar; you would say it was done with some instrument, and
so it was; but it is on its own body. It isa sort of rake, made
of hard points, on its head. This little tunnel is then lined with
silk, and do you know why? Because dampness cannot get
through silk, and your mother’s drawing-room is not more beautifully furnished
with drapery than the mason spider’s sitting-room is. But the door is the most
curious part of it. It shuts of itself. It is about as large as a six-pence, bound
very thick, and made of thin layers of fine earth, moistened and worked together

with fine silk; attached to this little door is a silken hinge, very springy, and so
&

 
very tight that if the door is opened it springs back with a sharp snap. Even
the socket is bound with silk, and the outside covered with bits of moss, glued
on, so that no one can find it. If any one should attempt to open this door the
spider would hold it tightly at the bottom, at the same time clinging to the
walls of the house with main force.

All day the mason spider remains in this home. When night comes he
ventures out to spin a few threads on the grass to catch its prey. Carrying its
food into the tunnel it has a good feast.

—Mrs. G. HALL.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

      

Mrs. Sand-screw’s company, on Thursday evening, Septem-
ber 24th. Dancing.”

That is the way the invitations were worded. Now, we
were not invited to the party, it is true, but still, as we hap-
pen to be strolling in the neighborhood, there certainly can —
S be no harm in our looking in for a moment, to see how the"
4 dancers are enjoying themselves; and it will be very easy, for, as it

_ is a warm evening, the ball is held out of doors, on the sand-beach
here.

Dear! Dear! What a gay scene! What is it they are dancing?

“First couple forward and back, jump over each other and turn somersault
back to places! All hands jump! Second couple right and left, three back
somersaults, and hop to places! Ladies chain! All hands hop! Right claw, left
claw, down the middle! All hands somersault back to places!”

Well! I never saw a dance like that before, did you? And everybody is
dancing: no lazy people here. There must beathousand people. A thousand!
There must be a million!

“Hop! Hop! Skip! Skip! Right claw, left claw, down the middle!”

Don’t you wish we could be sand-hoppers, too, just for a few minutes?
That is Mr. Sand-hopper himself in the picture, the one who is just jumping
backward so nimbly. He is dancing with his cousin, Miss Corophium,—that
lovely creature with the long, graceful, claw-like antenne. She is not quite
used to dancing on sand, for she lives in the mud at home; but still she is en-
joying herself very much. The lady in the left-hand corner is Mrs. Sand-Screw,
who is dancing back to back with Mr. Kroyler’s Sand-screw, her third cousin.
It is quite a family party, you see, for host and guests are all related to each

other.

 

 

 
 
 

Uy

 
 
 

Soh

 

il

 

Curious people, aren't they? The biggest cannot be more than an inch
long. Their hard, shining shells are polished as bright as possible, and their
claws all neatly arranged. They have twelve legs, some of which they use in
walking and some in swimming; indeed, one of their family names is Amphi-
poda, which means “both kinds of feet.” Some of the ladies are carrying their
eggs with them, packed away under the fore-part of their bodies, just where the
legs are joinedon. Shouldn't you think they would be afraid of dropping them?

Ah! Now they are going to supper! There is the feast, spread out on
the sand. Great heaps of delicious rotten sea-weed, and plenty of worms—
a supper fit for a king, if the king happens to be a sand-hopper. They seem
very hungry, and no wonder, after dancing so hard!

They will eat anything and everything,—these tiny creatures; if you
were to drop your handkerchief now it would be bitten to rags in five
minutes.

The lovely Miss Corophium is beating the sand with her long feelers, to
see if there are any worms under it. Greedy creature! Can’t you be content
with what is given you? But look! Whatis the matter now? Oh! Oh! How

dreadful! An enemy is com-

NH ing. “The Green Crab! The
ee tira Green Crab! Run, hop, bur-

. row under ground, for your
lives!” Off they all go, hel-
ter-skelter, Hopper, Screw,
== and Corophium.

Segx The family, and as many
of the guests as they can
“7 shelter, disappear under
ground into their tiny holes;
the rest make off wherever
they can. Have all escaped?
Alas! No! The unfortunate Kroyler’s Sand-screw has a lame leg, and cannot
go as fast as the rest. He is seized by the terrible Green Crab, the enemy of
his whole race, and gobbled up before our very eyes.

The ball is over; come away! Somehow I don’t care so muchabout being
a sand-hopper now, do you?

   

—Lavura E. RIcHArpDs,

 
@€n Gsguimaux Billage.

OST of us pity those poor people of the north, whose hara rate
has placed them in one of the dreariest parts of the earth, where
only a few mosses can be found in the vegetable world; where
it would be almost impossible for human beings to live were it
not for the food and clothing which the ocean waters yield so
freely. But this land is their own and they would not exchange
it for our more comfortable one. In fact, some of these people

who have been brought here by explorers have been uneasy until they could re-

turn to their own country and their own people.

The Esquimaux who live in this region, are short of stature, but strong,
broad-shouldered men. They have narrow foreheads, broad, flat noses, with
little or no beards. The hair on the head is long, straight, coarse and black.
Both men and women possess hands and feet that are wonderfully small and
well formed. The dress of both sexes is very much alike, the object being in
that severe climate to keep warm and to have the clothing as light as possible.
They wear two pairs of trousers, the inner one of reindeer skin, with the soft
fur next the flesh, and the outer pair of sealskin. They also wear two jackets
made of the same material. The outer one has a large hood which, when drawn
up, completely covers the head, and sometimes the entire face except the eyes.
Their hoods are made of sealskin, lined with reindeer fur, or the soft, downy
coats of birds. The outer jacket of the women is usually a little larger than
that of the men, and is provided with an extra hood in which to carry the babies
when ona journey. In the summer, one of the first suits is laid aside. Some
of the Esquimau women braid their black, glossy hair with much care and taste.
They tattoo their foreheads, cheeks and chins.

_ The Esquimau’s igloo, or house, is built of snow and ice. The word means
either house or room, but as their houses never contain but one apartment, the
word applies equally to both. The Esquimaux are a wandering people, but
during the winter months occupy their igloo, built of stones, with moss piled up
around and over them, so that when covered with snow they make a very com-
fortable dwelling-place. At other times the houses are made of blocks of snow,
cut out in regular form with a snow-knife, which is made of reindeer or musk-ox
bones. The builder first clears the snow away froma space large enough for
the house, leaving the solid ice on the bottom for a floor. The house is built in
the form of a dene: usually about ten or twelve feet across. All the cracks and
openings are carefully chinked i in with snow. Then water is thrown over them

 
and allowed to freeze. The builders stand in the inside while working, so that
when the dome is finished they are completely shut in. With the snow-knife
they then cut a door about two feet high on one side. From this they build out
along, low passage-way, by which the hut is entered, and which keeps out the
wind and snow, and lets in air. This opening is seldom closed, except at night,
and then to keep out the dogs and wolves. In some instances small windows
are cut in the sides, and
thin pieces of ice used for
glass. Oftentimes covered
passages are built from
one hut toanother. When
all is done, the house is
banked up with snow for
several feet, and snow
thrown lightly over the
top. The snow which is
cut out in making the door-
way is used to make a
wide bank or shelf about
three feet high along one
side of the hut. This is the
family bed, which they call
breck. It isthe work of the
women toarrange the beds,
and prepare the lamps for
light, warmth, and cook-
ing. The bed is first cov-
ered with moss to a depth
of several inches, and then
covered with reindeer or
seal skins. Other skins
are sewed together for
covers at night. Couches
along the side are madein
the same way. The lamps are of soapstone, much like a clam-shell in shape.
They look more like a dish than a lamp, and are filled with oil from the blubber
of the whale and seal. Along the straight edge of the lamp is a wick made of
moss, which burns quite brightly. The women keep the lamp from smoking,
and keep it supplied with blubber, large pieces of which are put in the lamp.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 
About three inches from the flame is placed a pot in which the water for cook-
ing and drinking is melted and meat stewed. Still above this hangs a rack
upon which stockings, mittens, and other garments are allowed to dry. There
is no fire except what is furnished by the lamps, nor is any other needed. Indeed,
it sometimes gets so warm in the igloo that the water begins to drip from the
ceiling. At such times one of the women makes a ball of snow and presses it
against the spot, and possibly puts out one of the lamps. During their short
summer the Esquimaux live in tents made of skins. At this time they busy
themselves in laying up food for the winter, having to depend chiefly on fishing
and hunting. Spring gives them a good chance to spear and catch fish. They
also hunt the reindeer at this time, and capture large numbers of swans, ducks
and geese. During the month of July they capture a number of whales, the
blubber of which is carefully taken out and laid aside for winter use. The wal-
rus and seal are also very important to the Esquimaux. In the warm spring
days the seals come up through their. blow-holes to enjoy a quiet nap in the
sun. The Esquimau hunter creeps along on his hands and knees, and draws
himself along the ice until within easy range, when the shot is fired which, if in
the head or neck, ends that seal’s life. The Esquimaux obtain guns from ex-
ploring and whaling vessels in exchange for a supply of meat or furs. If the
hunter has no gun he must get close enough to kill the seal with aspear. This
is very difficult unless he happens to catch one asleep, as the seal is very swift
inits movements, and has wonderfully sharp eyes. As summer advances, how-
ever, the eyes of the seal are so blinded by the fierce rays of the sun that they
become slightly blinded, and are then easily taken. In the winter time the
seals do not come out on the ice, and so must be hunted through the blow-
holes. At such times, the hunter selects a blow-hole, and builds around it a
sort of an embankment of snow. There he waits for the seal, which may come
in an hour and may not come within two days. During all this time the hunter
sits perfectly still. He cannot walk or move about lest the seal be frightened.
Walruses are captured in much the same way. They are so large, however,
that two hunters generally go together. An average sized walrus weighs one
thousand or twelve hundred pounds, and we may know how valuable they are
to the Esquimaux when we remember that every particle is used, even to the
bones. The catching of a walrus is the occasion of a feast for the whole village.
During stormy weather these people busy themselves in storing away the spoils
of the hunt. For this purpose they dig a pit, inside of which the meat is
placed and covered with large stones. It is said that an Esquimau eats on an
average eight or ten pounds of meat a day. When meat is plenty they often-
times eat four or five times during the course of a night.
Among these people one family is no better off than another. All share
the spoils in common. If one village is well provided for, and a neighboring
village happens to be without food, bythe laws of hospitality the unfortunate
ones must be taken in and fed as long as they choose to stay, be it weeks or
days. Then, too, the dogs must be well taken care of, and it often hap-
pens that they get without food and must go hunting even in severe winter
weather.

The women among these people have a hard life. The men say it is right
to whip the women, as it makes them good, and when one of these strong Es-
quimaux strikes his wife it is no love tap, but a blowto staggeraman. Usually
the men have two wives. There are no wedding ceremonies, the marriage be-
tween parties being arranged while the parties are children. The father of a
boy selects a little girl to be his daughter-in-law, and buys her from her father
for something—a snow-knife, a sléd, or a dog. When the little girl is grown up
she goes to live with her husband. When going on a journey the women and
children must walk if the load is too heavy. If the dogs become tired, the
women must be put in harness and help them, while the men ride on the sled.
Among the Esquimaux a good wife is one who sleeps but little after a hard
day’s march, and who attends constantly to the wants of her husband. She
must look carefully over the clothing, and see that it is dry and properly mend-
‘ed. If at home, her whole time must be given to makingclothing, cooking, and
other household tasks. She is never idle. When other tasks are Aone she
busies herself chewing skins for clothing to make them pliable.

These people do not have any laws or officers, yet good order prevails
among them and quarrels are rare. When a difficulty arises they settle the
dispute, usually by gathering some of the old men together, who talk the matter
over until an agreement is reached. The women are not allowed to be present
at such times. Yet in spite of these hard conditions they are cheerful, good-
natured, and seem to enjoy life in that dreary region. They will not steal among
themselves, but it is no shame to rob a white man. They have, how-
ever, a wholesome fear of punishment, and can be restrained in that way.

 
 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

   

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

UU IAA

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

  
 
 
 

 

S . AW Nt

WSs SS SS
: ~.

SS NSS CRA

ADRIFT IN THE ARCTIC REGIONS,

 

   
  

  
\Ohere Fhere’s a \ill, Phere’s a \Pay.

my ( ZX RON

e aE ED BLAKE lived on a farm with his parents in one of our west-
ern states. Ned’s father had been a merchant in one of the
eastern cities, but misfortune overtook him; he failed, and after
paying his debts only a small sum of money remained. Mr.

    

 

family with him, he went into one of the western states and
bought a small farm.

Only a few acres had been cleared upon it, and here Ned found life hard
indeed. But he worked faithfully until a boy of seventeen, when he felt that
he was no longer needed at home, and asked his father if he might ‘‘do for him-
self?” Mr. Blake was sorry that Ned wanted to leave home, but knowing that
he was ambitious and to be trusted, and that he was desirous of securing an
education, readily gave his consent.

The summer before he left home his father had given him all he could
raise on a few acres of ground. Ned planted this to wheat, and after it was
harvested, Ned was in possession of what seemed to him a very large sum of
money. Some twenty miles distant was a little town favored with a most ex-
cellent academy. Here Ned resolved to go and attend school so long as his
funds lasted. He did not feel able to pay the sum demanded for board, so he
rented a simple room containing a stove, a table, a cot and a chair, and there,
during the long winter evenings, he sat alone, poring over his lessons.

Such industry as his could not go unneticed. Professor Dawson, the prin-
cipal of the school, saw in Ned a likely lad, and gave him all the assistance
within his power. One day Ned did not have his Latin lesson so well as usual.
The Professor knew that there must be some good cause for this, and resolved
to visit Ned in his room that night. He called, and upon reaching the room,
he found the door was open and peeped in. There sat Ned ina chair, fast
asleep. His head rested on his hands, and his books lay on the floor.

The Professor was touched at the sight. He knew that Ned had fallen
asleep from sheer overwork. Rousing him gently he talked with him about his
lessons, and learned with pleasure that Ned had determined to make teaching
his profession. The Professor talked with him a long time that evening, and
left him with a deep love in his heart for the boy. Among other things, the
Professor told Ned that he must not study so hard; that he should take more
exercise; live more comfortably, even if it took him longer to finish his educa-
tion. Ned heeded the advice given him.

After a year in Professor Dawson’s school, Ned was deemed fit to begin
teaching. The school-house was not suchas our readers see to-day. Imagine,

       
       

RSuuil
eee

i

ii

ASLABP OVER HIS LASSONS

if you can, a plain room, in the centre of which is a large box stove, and a desk
against the wall, along two sides of the room benches upon which the pupils
sat, and a single seat across the end where the pupils sat when reciting, and you
have a picture of Ned’s first school-room. He was not discouraged, however,
because he had so few conveniences at hand. He gave his whole heart to the
work, and when his school was finished, it was pronounced the best the district
had had for many years.

So teaching and studying, Ned went on, until after a few more years Pro-
fessor Dawson resigned, and Ned was called upon to take his place. So any
boy who desires can gain an education if he will make the most of his oppor-
tunities, for “‘where there’s a will there’s a way” is as true to-day as years ago.

D GE

~—— 4

we

Ghe Summer's Call.

OME away! The sunny hours - Dreamy, starry, greenly bright—

Woo thee far to founts and bowers! Come away!

O’er the very waters now Where the boughs with dewy gloom

In their play. Darken each thick bed of bloom.
Flowers are shedding, beauties glow— ' Come away!
Come away!

Where the lilies’ tender gleam,
Quivers on the glancing stream—
Come away! i

 

In the deep heart of the rose
- Now the crimson love-hue glows;

Now the glow-worm’s lamp by night
Sheds a ray,

Dreamy, starry, greenly bright—
Come away!

Where the fairy cup-moss lies

With the wild-wood strawberries
Come away!

All the air is filled with sound,

Soft and sultry, and profound;

Murmurs through the shadowy grass,
Lightly stray;

Faint winds whisper as,they pass,

: Come away! Now each tree by summer crown’d
Where the bee’s deep music swells Sheds its own rich twilight round;
From the trembling foxglove bells, Glancing there from sun to shade,

Come away. Bright wings play;

There the deer its couch hath made—

In the skies the sapphire blue __ Come away!
Now has won its richest hue; Where the smooth leaves of the lime
In the woods the breath of song Glisten in their honey-time—

Sheds a ray, Come away—away.

 
@ndroeles and the ion.

BSHE story of Androcles and the lion is told by Dion Cassius, a
Roman historian of undoubted veracity. Androcles was the
slave of a noble Roman, who was pro-consul of Afric, or Africa.
He had been found guilty of a fault for which his master was
) coing to put him to death, but he found an opportunity to
escape, and fled into the deserts of Numidia. As he was wandering among the
barren sands, and almost dead with heat and thirst, he saw a cave in the rock.
Finding just at the entrance a stone to sit upon which was shaded from the
fierce heat of the sun, he rested for some time.

At length, to his great surprise, a huge, overgrown lion stood before him,
and, seeing him, immediately walked toward him. Androcles gave himself up
for lost; but the lion, instead of treating him as he expected, laid his right paw
on his lap, and, with a low moan of pain, licked his hand. Androcles, after
having recovered himself a little from his fright, plucked up courage enough to
look at the paw which was laid on his lap, and observed a large thorn init. He
immediately pulled it out, and by squeezing it very gently made a great deal of
poisonous blood and matter run out, which probably freed the lion from the
great pain he wasin. The lion again licked his hand, and, with a brighter look
in his eyes, left him, soon returning, however, with a fawn he had just killed.
This he laid down at the feet of his benefactor, and went off again in pursuit of
more prey, not limping now as he did when Androcles first saw him, but bound-
ing along as if his paw had never had anything the matter with it.

Androcles, after having subsisted upon the fawn and other food which the
lion brought him for several days, at length got tired of this frightful solitude
and savage companionship, expecting that any moment the lion might forget
his act of kindness and devour him. So he resolved to deliver himself into his
master’s hands and suffer the worst effects of his displeasure.

Now his master, as was customary for the pro-consul of Africa, was at that
time collecting together a present of the largest lions that could be found in the
country in order to send them to Rome, that they might furnish a show for the
Roman people, and upon Androcles, his slave, surrendering himself, he ordered
him to be carried to Rome as soon as the lions were sent there, and that for his
crime he should be exposed to fight one of the lions in the amphitheatre for the
pleasure of the people.

This was all carried into effect. Androcles, after having been all alone in
the wilderness, with the probability of being torn.to pieces by lions, was now

   
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ANDROCLAS AND THA LION.
before a multitude of people in the arena, looking forward to the same dreadful
death.

At length a huge lion bounded out from the place where it had been kept
hungry for the show. Hewas in great rage, and in one or two great leaps he
advanced toward Androcles, who was in the center of the arena with a short
sword in hishand. But suddenly the lion stopped, regarded him with a wistful
look, and letting his tail droop, crept quietly toward him and licked and
caressed his feet. Androcles, after a short pause of great surprise, discovered
that it was his old Numidian friend, and immediately renewed his acquaintance
with him.

Their friendship was very surprising to the excited multitude, who, upon
hearing an account of the whole affair from Androcles, prayed the Emperor to
pardon him. The Emperor did so, and gave into his possession the lion, who,

through having been once kindly treated, had saved his benefactor’s life.
Androcles kept the lion and treated him well in return for the food the
faithful animal had obtained for him in the desert, and for having saved his

life.

Dion Cassius, the great historian,

says that he himself saw Androcles

leading the lion through the streets of Rome (and his word is not to be doubted),

the people gathering about them and saying to one another:

‘This is the lion

who was the man’s host; this is the man who was the lion’s physician.”

—H. S. H.

eee gy
@

hese

Ss

lf | \Were a [Dan.

Recitation for a Boy.

F I were a sailor across the blue seas,
American, German, whatever you
please;
Of whatever nation, or people, or
‘clan,
I'd hoist my true colors, if I were a man!
Be certain I would, if I were a man.

IfI were a Christian, of whatever church,

» . J never would give my religion the lurch;

Whatever its doctrines, its creed, or its plan,
I'd live by my colors if I were a man,
Wherever I was, if I were a man!
10 L

If I were in politics up to my throat,
Nobody should question or bid for my
vote.
I’d march straight ahead, with the best of
the van,
I’d follow my colors, if I wére a man,
Clear through to the front, if I were a man.

I never would wait for a minute to guess
What party was likely to win, more or less;
But choosing the right way, as any one can,
I'd stand by my colors, if I were a man,

’ As long as life lasted, if I were a man.
little May one night, as she sat in her little rocker by the fire.
“What shall we do with them? My hands must do some-
thing, and my head feels as if it would fly off just because I
ee have nothing to do.”
BOS “Why can we not have a game of authors?” said mamma.
“Oh, no, mamma, I don’t like authors,” replied May.’
“Get out your toys, then, and I am sure you will find something
to amuse you,” suggested mamma again.
“Oh, no, they are all the same old things and I have played with
them over and over again until I am tired.”
“Well,” said mamma, “this is a desperate case; what shall we
do? Why can we not make some toys ourselves—some new ones?”
“Oh, yes, mamma, that is just the thing; that is something new, and while
we are making them we can amuse ourselves, and when they are finished we
shall play with them. What shall we make first?” cried May, clapping her.
hands with joy.
“Let me think,” said mamma. ‘I believe a harlequin will be as well as
anything, as it is easy to make.”
“What is a harlequin, mamma?” said little May, aghast at the long word.
Mamma smiled a little as she replied: ‘A harlequin, May, is a dancing
image; you have seen them in the toy stores, though I do not think I ever

    
    

bought you one.”
May’s face brightened at her mamma's explanation of the word, and she

was eager to begin.

“Get me some stiff card-board and my large shears, some twine and some-
thing to make little holes with,” said mamma.

May quickly brought the desired articles and the work began.

“The first thing to do,” said mamma, ‘is to trace the outline on the card-
board. I have here some patterns which I got yesterday. These will show us
just what to do. Now trace the outline figure A on this card-board—there, that
is done. Next make the little holes which are shown in the cut—there, that is
done. The next thing is to string it; this is really the hardest part, May, and
we must be very careful. You must do this with fine twine, and tie a knot in
the twine each time you put two parts together, and rivet the joints, as a car-
penter would say. A string isa peculiar rivet, isit not? Now that we have
     

Bach view

Dancing Larleguir
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| How to make Cardlosr Foys |

    
   
it all joined together the next thing is to make the arms and legs appear
animated.” .

‘What is animated?” cried May, a little dismayed at some of the long
words her mother was using.

“Animated means lively, May. We can make the figure appear lively by
passing a string through the little holes above the rivets and fastening them
together with knots, as you see in figure B. Now that we have done this we
will pull down the string, as shown in figure C, and-our harlequin will throw out
his arms and legs, and the faster we pull the harder he will dance; there, is not
that nice?”

May was so delighted with the harlequin that the next night she wanted
her mamma to show her how to make something else. After supper was over
and they were seated around the fire her mamma said: ‘What shall we make
to-night, May?” :

“JT was reading about a bear this afternoon,” said May, ‘and I wondered if
we could not make one.”

“T think this will not be very hard,” said mamma. ‘We will need the
same kind of material that we had last night. The first thing is to cut out the
Body of the bear, and that happens to be shown in the diagram No. 2.
Then let us cut out the arms and legs; you see in making the bear we do not
have nearly so many pieces as we had in the harlequin last night. Make the
holes in the arms and legs; fasten them to the body with a rivet of string, just
as we did before; then through the little holes in the upper part of the limbs
pass another string, one on each side of the body, letting them hang down so
they can be taken hold of, and there you have the bear complete, as in figure
B. We will make this large; let us make it about twelve inches high, and at
will be quite a bear.” . ;

The bear was made and May was highly pleased with it. “But. mamma,
can we not put hair on it and make it a real bear?” said May.

“No, May, we cannot put hair onit, but we can paint it black if you wish.
Let us take a little bit of burnt sienna shaded with sepia and black, as that will
be the best color to paint the bear. We can paint all of our toys if you wish,”
said mamma; ‘‘and let me see how gay acoat you can give your harlequin to-
morrow.”

The bear and the harlequin afforded amusement for several days, but a
few nights later little May was anxious to try some other toy.

“What shall it be?” said mamma.

“Almost anything,” said May.

t
“Let us try a parrot, then; and while we eee make a sna that will
talk we can make one that will flap his wings.”

May laughed at the idea of making a parrot that could flap his.wings.

“Get my card-board and string, May,” said mamma, “and we will have a
parrot in just a jiffy. The first thing is to cut out the head, body, tail and
perch all in one piece, just as you see it here. We will have to have our parrot
ona perch, of course. Then let us cut out the wings, make the little holes,
just as we have done in the other toys, fasten them on the body by means of a
strong thread, and here we have the parrot ready to fly,” and mamma pulled
down the string and the parrot spread its wings.

“Now we must paint this nicely. Let us see, what color shall we give it?”
said mamma.

‘He must have green on his head and red on his body,” said May.

‘You may paint the parrot to suit yourself,” said mamma, ‘‘and let us see
how like a real parrot you can make it.”

The harlequin, bear and parrot furnished little M.y amusement for many
nights, but she was very much interested in making a larger number of toys,
and suggested to her mamma that they make a whole menagerie in that way.
Mamma was pleased to see the interest little May took in making toys, and so
‘readily consented to help her further. A few nights afterward, as they sat
around the fire, May said: ‘Mamma, let us make some more toys.”

“Very well,” said mamma, ‘let us make a sailor with a wooden leg, playing
on a violin.”

May laughed at the idea of asailor put wasready to begin. Material was
brought and mamma said: ‘Now first trace head and body in one piece, the
legs and arms and bow in another, as in figure A.”

“But the sailor cannot dance and fiddle, too,” said May, “can he, mamma?
He cannot fiddle and make both arms go.”

“We will easily fix that,” said mamma. ‘Fasten the legs to the body,
just as we have done before; fasten the one arm to the shoulder with a string
rivet, and then place the bow upon the fiddle; then on the back attach the legs
at the top with a string; then put a string in the hole at the upper part of the
arm, and your sailor is ready to fiddle and dance.”

“But, mamma, he can dance and he can fiddle, but he does not look like
a sailor,” said May

“Let us see 7{we can paint him so he will,’ said mamma. The paints
were brought and mamma soon changed the head so it looked like a sailor’s
head and face with a hat on it. The body was painted so as to bring out
the violin as we see it in figure B, and May added a one-legged sailor playing a
violin to her collection.
a
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The next night little May said: “Oh, mamma, I saw a horse kick a dog
to-day, and I wonder if we could make a toy like that.”

Mamma smiled and said: “After having made that one-legged sailor that
could play a violin I think we can make almost anything in the way of toys.”
So material was got ready.

“But let us make a donkey instead of a horse,” said mamma, “because
donkeys kick harder. First tet us draw head, body and the fore legs as we see
them in figure five. Then let us cut out the hind legs as we have them, let us
' fasten the hind legs to the body with our string rivet, put a hole in the little
opening we have left for it, and see our donkey kick.”

May clapped her hands with glee. ‘But where is the dog, mamma?” said
she.

“We will have to fix that,” said mamma.

So a dog was cut out in one piece, as shown in the figure, a string was
fastened behind and pulled, and the poor little dog went over and over as we
see it in the cut.

‘Now paint your donkey and dog whatever color you want,” said mamma,
“and you will have another toy.”

The next night May said: “Why can we not make an elephant—make a
regular Jumbo?”

“I think we can,” said mamma, ‘and as Jumbo was the largest elephant
that was ever seen in America we will have to make our elephant large. Let
us make him at least sixteen inches long”

May brought the card-board and mamma said: “Cut out the body and
legs all in one piece, as shown in figure six; then cut head and trunk from
another piece, the tail from another, fasten the head to the body with our
string rivet, just as we have done before, and fasten the tail in the same way.
Next put the string through the tail and through the ear, where we have left
an opening; make this string just a little bit tight; tie a thread at the middle
of this string and pull down upon it.” May did so, and was surprised to see
the elephant throw up its head and tail just as she had seen live elephants do.

Mamma took the elephant in her hand and held it between the lamp and
wall. What was little May’s surprise to see the shadow of a great big elephant
cast upon the wall, and when mamma pulled the string and the elephant threw
up its great big head and tail, little May thought it was just the finest toy she
had made yet.

Little May was proud of the toys she had made and amused herself with
them for many days, but bye and bye she wanted something new, and after
coming from the store one day with her mamma she said: “Oh, mamma,
 
could we not make a Chinaman—just’such a one as we saw in the shop to-day?”

Mamma said: ‘Perhaps we can; we will try, at least, and so you may get
the material.” ,

May brougat the shears, string and card-board as her mamma requested.
“The Chinaman we saw,” said mamma, “was drinking tea froma cup and there
was a little stand in front of him. I don’t know whether we can make this or
not, but let us try. First we will cut the stand and body of the Chinaman,
all but one arm, from one piece. Now we will cut the arm holding up the cup
from another piece, fasten the arm to the elbow with the string, attach the
thread to the little opening near the joint and pull down.” May did so, and
was more delighted than ever to see the cup of tea placed up to the Chinaman’s
mouth as though he were drinking. Her mamma painted a fancy Chinese
costume, cut out the unnecessary card-board, and the toy was complete. But
this was not enough; little May wanted something else, and something like the
Chinaman, she told her mamma. Her mamma thought that perhaps they could
make a Scotchman fishing. May laughed at the idea, but so many things had
been made from card-board she began to think it would be an easy matter to
make almost anything.

“First,” said mamma, ‘we must cut head, body and legs of the Scotchman
from one piece, just as shown in figure eight. Then we must cut one arm and
a fishing-rod from another piece. Then cut a fish from still another, tie the
fish to the rod by means of a string, fasten the arm to the elbow the same as
we did with the Chinaman, attach the thread to the opening near the joint and
pull down quickly.” May did so and up came a fish. The toy was painted,
and little May spent many happy hours playing with her Chinaman and
Scotchman

We might tell you how many other toys were made, but it is not necessary;
now we want our little readers to go right on with the making of card-board toys
and see how many can be made; horses can be made to gallop, dogs to wag
their tails; in fact, almost any animal, bird or insect can be made with just a
little care and thought. This will not only afford amusement to our young
readers, but will be a valuable study for them.

 
 
 
  

P\ow leebergs are formed.

Zier
1 OW many of our little readers have ever thought of what
becomes of the vast mountains of snowin the Polar re-
gions?

Here the sun never shines with enough power to wholly
melt the snow which has fallen and it constantly gathers..
In this way immense mountains of ice and snow are formed.
There is heat enough in the sun to moisten the snow just a
little and then the intense cold freezes it into a solid mass.
Nw In this way what are called glaciers are formed. These,

( ats then, are immense mountain chains of frozen ice and snow.
If you were to stand and look at one of these glaciers you
could not see that it moved at all, yet they do move slightly, and slide on and
on until they reach the sea and form great walls of ice, out of which pour tor-
rents of water during the Arctic summer. The noise which this falling water
makes fills the air with a continual roar, as if the mighty mass were about to
break forth into an earthquake. This seems like the voice of an imprisoned
giant struggling to be free. These walls of ice not only reach the sea, but of-
tentimes push their way out into the sea, overhanging the water. The great
body of ice, being no longer supported, partially crumbles, and immense blocks
of ice break off, fall into the sea, sounding like thunder, and after turning over
a few times with a great splash and noise, at length gain their balance and float
away in the ocean.

These blocks of ice of all sizes and shapes, broken off from the glacier in
this manner, are called icebergs. What a sight it must be to see a fleet of
these great ice ships putting out to sea, especially if lighted up by the moon or
the midnight sun! More beautiful even than this is the sight of these icebergs
when illuminated by the rays of the aurora borealis, or northern lights, as we
term them. Suchascene is beyond description. These icebergs are borne
away by the currents of the ocean, and by the winds as well, until they reach
warmer climates, where they gradually melt away.

We read of many wrecks caused by ships coming in contact with these
icebergs. Even the steamers which ply between Liverpool and New York are
oftentimes in great danger from them. Leta ship strike one of these moving
masses of ice and all is over.

Icebergs are sometimes found as far south as the coast of Maine. But ¢
upon reaching the warm Gulf currents they melt rapidly.
 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

ICHBERGS.
@ohn Pounds’ SHehool.

OHN POUNDS was born at Portsmouth in the year 1766, and
as he grew up his parents, who were in humble circumstances,
apprenticed him to a shipwright. Whilst working in the dock-
yard he met with an accident; one of his thighs was broken, he
was rendered a cripple for life and had to seek another means
ems of subsistence. He took to mending shoes, and lived ina
ener boarded house in St. Mary’s street in his native town.

Being of a gentle and humane disposition, he was fond of animals, and
kept a number of tame birds in his stall, and his good nature moved him to
take charge of a child belonging to his brother, who had a numerous family.
This poor child was acripple, his feet overlapping each other, but the ingenious
cobbler contrived an apparatus of old shoes and straps, by means of which the
boy’s feet were kept in their right position and he was soon cured. The kind-
hearted John next taught him to read, and, thinking that his little nephew would
learn better with companions, he asked a neighbor to send him his children to
be taught. Others followed, and soon the wooden booth, which was eighteen
feet long by six in width, was crowded to overflowing. His teaching was all
gratuitous, and he delighted in reclaiming and teaching ‘“‘the little blackguards,”
as he called them. He sought out the boa urchins on the quays of the town,
and bribed them with a ete apple to come to his school.

He managed to procure some fragments of old school-books, and from
these and some old hand-bills he taught the children to read, whilst with slate
and pencil they learned writing and arithmetic. His method of instruction was
by means of questions. Seated with his lapstone on his knee in the midst of
his mob of little pupils, he would go on with his work, whilst asking them the
names of different objects and then making them spell them. With the younger
ones he was very playful. He would touch a little one’s ear and say: ‘What's
this?” And when the child replied: “Ear,” he would say: ‘“Spellit.” Then,
pinching it gently, he would say: “What doI do?” “Pinch.” ‘Then spell
that,” said he. And so on with the hand or foot.

As the children grew older he adopted a stricter discipline with them, but
they all loved him; and many hundreds of persons, filling useful positions in
life, owed all the education they ever received to the poor cobbler, whose sole
reward was the joy he felt in doing good to others, and in the visit, now and
then, of some brave soldier or sailor, grown out of all remembrance, who came
to shake hands with their kind old teacher. Though he was favorably noticed

 
 

by the local authorities, he never got one penny for his services, and lived the
most frugal and self-denying life, known chiefly to his poorer neighbors.
On the rst of January, 1839, when John Pounds was seventy-two years of

Le

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

  

 

7 Vi

friend, go sorrowfully away.
John Pounds was a true benefactor to his species, though he was only a

  
 

ri ; i FIR RTA i
iy “4 NL

   

age, he and_ his
nephew determined
to have a grand din-
ner in honor of New
Year's Day, and they
bought a mug of
sprats; but before
they were cooked, as
he was looking at a
picture of his school
which had recently
been done for him,
he suddenly fell
down and expired.
Great was the
grief and consterna-
tion of the children,
and the younger ones
could hardly be made
to understand that
their kind old friend
was really gone from
them, and many of
them came to the
door next morning
and cried because
they could not be
admitted; and _ for
several days the little
ones would come in
groups of two or
three, look about the
deserted room, and,
not finding their
poor cobbler, for he was the originator of those ragged schools which have
since done so much to instruct the children of the poorest class and save them
from lives of misery and crime.

«Only @ne [P\other.”

“Hundreds of stars in the pretty sky;
Hundreds of shells on the shore together,
Hundreds of birds that go singing by;
Hundreds of bees in the sunny weather.

Hundreds of dewdrops to greet the morn;
Hundreds of lambs in the purple clover;
Hundreds of butterflies on the lawn;

But only one mother the wide world over.”

  

D of that mother, Charles Kingsley said: “She had always such

, a big ‘holiday heart!” Just what that means we may guess.

Good housebuilders and good homekeepers know that holiday

hearts make holiday faces; and to our children are priceless pic-
<i tures on the home walls.

The sun comes straight in and comes, as Ike Marvel says, ‘‘goldenly.” 4 It
begins with a cheery breakfast, and is attendant upon every hour of each day.
No everyday guest is more welcome.’ All the windows of the heart catch the
morning, with its light and air, just as the warm east sunshine should gener-
ously flush the coffee cups. Holiday hearts glorify the little bright faces, fresh
from the night’s sleep and the morning bath!

The day begins with sunshine—even when the rain come down!

Mr. Thackeray hked ‘Clive Newcome” eevee he was not such a bril-
liant boy, maybe, but always pleasant.

Pleasantness is so contagious. The good mother had been up all night
with baby, who had the croup; papa wasn't in a saintly mood, Jany looked glum;
and Stsie whimpered. Jackcame bounding in with ‘“Here’s the Morning Post,
papa,” in such an excited, cheery way papa had oe smile.

“The top of the morning to ye, polly-wog,” he shouted to whimpering
Susie, who laughed; and as Bridget came in with the cakes she “felt quite
lifted with the breeze.”. The pale mother felt the little brown fingers on her
shoulder with a thrill, as her merry boy passed her chair and took his seat at
the table.

So the sunshine came in with Jack! Enough to cover the whole family!
@ip.
“Here lies entombed beneath this sod,
Watered with tears,
The dearest, wisest, high old dog
For many years
The country ever knew—

Tippecanoe!
Died, March 3, 1862.”

   

VHIS was the inscription. We boys had spent a half-holiday
> carving it with our jack-knives on a pine slab, and when the last
“7” had been dotted with a gimlet, and the last period made,
Tom laid it down and surveyed his work a moment.

“Can't you think of something more to put at the bottom?”
he said. “I don’t feel so badly when I am at work for the old
fellow.”

Tom had already worked within half an inch of the notch cut to show how
‘deep the slab must be sunk.

“Think of something more!” said Phil, indignantly. “It would take all the
pine slabs that ever grew in Maine to say all that ought to be said about him!”

This made a happy diversion, for, used as Tom and I were to Phil’s exag-
gerations, we felt the corners of our mouths giving way.

One evening last summer father exclaimed:

“This is too hot! Let’s fill the lunch baskets to-morrow and take the
steamer for the islands.”

This was a favorite trip with us boys, down the harbor to the bay, and the
very mention of it sent us off into ecstacies.

“And take Tip?” was the chorus, as heads came uppermost.

“No,” said mother, “three boys are all [can manage! I let Tip go last
‘time, and he made so much trouble I cannot take him!”

Tip had risen eagerly at the sound of his name, but as the last sentence
was finished he dropped his head and slowly left the room.

‘‘Now you have hurt Tip’s feelings,” we cried.

‘He'll have time to get over it, for I don’t think we can get off before day
after to-morrow. Phyllis will want one day to make cake and sandwiches for
‘so many.”

Where was Tip? Noone had seen or heard him since the night before,
cand he never left the premises unless with one of us. Had someone stolen him?

\?
The question became a fear as the hours went past, and no Tip. Up and
down the city we went, inquiring of every one we knew if they had seen our
dog, but in vain. That day father sat in his office as much distressed as we.
At last, toward evening, the captain of one of the island steamers sauntered in.
“Good evening,” he said. ‘Do you know where your dog is?”

“No,” said my father. ‘I’m sorry to say I don't.”

“Needn’t trouble yourself about him,” said the captain, laughing. “T'll tell
you where he has been all day. He marched down to the wharf this morning,
half an hour before I started, and straight aboard mysteamer, and there he was

 

when | moored again, fifteen minutes ago. He’s made the round trip down to the
islands, made himself agreeable to every one, and behaved with the utmost
propriety.”

What a shout there was at home when the story came out! Tip had
determined to show that he could and would go, and that he was a perfectly
proper personage. The change in the day had been made after he had left the
room, and he had marched down a little in advance of time, expecting us to
follow. As we did not appear he would ot retreat, but had gone through the
day in solitary grandeur.
Phyllis had a cat that had in Tip an admirer of unspeakable devotion.
One friendly glance, one touch of her velvet paw, was reward enough for hours
of gazing, or the choicest morsels of his dinner.

A rival interfered, a poor little kitten, the only one Phyllis nad spared. No
more attention for Tip, not even a turn of the head or a glance as he passed
by, and as day after day went on with no change, the dog could bear it no
longer.

Suddenly,” without warning, he sprang forward, seized the kitten by the
neck and dashed like lightning from the yard, and before the cries of puss could
summon help Tip had reached the wharf and dropped his luckless rival into the
water.

We boys, though forced to confess that snatching an only child from its
mother wasn’t the truest spirit of knighthood, were all ready to pat Tip in
secret for his brilliant stroke. But father took no such view of the case. Tip
had committed robbery and murder to make room for his own selfish interests,
and should be horsewhipped. We went away that we might not witness his
disgrace nor hear his cries.

We made secret plans for comforting Tip, but he was not to be found, and
morning failed to discover him. Had he turned his back on us forever? was
the question we were asking each other, when a school-mate called over the
fence: “Saw your dog at your Cousin Tenbrook’s an hour ago.”

“At Cousin Tenbrook’s! I guess not! We took him there last summer,
when we went to the country, and he wouldn't stay aday! Hecame back and
Sat on the steps and lived on stray crusts till we came home.”

The boy was telling the truth, and we were starting to bring Tip home
when father stopped us. Tip was feeling his disgrace, and ought to feel it,
and we should let him alone. Ina fortnight, with tail erect and amid shouts of
welcome, Tip stalked into the yard.

It was not long before he redeemed his character, and did it, aS we
thought, a thousand times over.

We had him out walking with us, when a runaway horse appeared, dashing
at fearful speed, dragging behind him an elegant sleigh containing a child.

Some people stood out of the way as the sleigh sped down the street,
others stepped nearer and brandished their arms and shouted. Tip stood
beside us, his eyes fixed upon the approaching animal. Nearer, nearer! but not
a hair of Tip’s tail stirred until the sleigh was almost opposite us. Then with
a bound he reached the. horse’s side, and, seizing the bridle, hung with his
whole weight upon the bit.

The horse, frantic as he had seemed a moment before, hesitated, and in
a moment stood still. vu L
Every year added glory to Tip’s record, but he was growing old. And at
last a remark was incautiously dropped by mother that she did not know how
much longer he could be tolerated about the house.

The next morning Tip was again missing and found at Cousin Tenbrook’s,
but not to return. No entreaty or command could move him. Not a look
would he bestow on my mother. He had left us, and all previous relations
were ignored for the few days remaining to him.

Then we claimed him once more, and this time without resistance. Sol-
emnly we brought home all there was left of Tip, and committed to the one
poor pine slab the only record we knew how to make of his sagacity and
intelligence.

 

[@inds that are \Wanted.

A \NTED—a boy that is manly | And is patient, unheeding the scoff or the

  
  

and just, jeer;
AOne that you feel you may honor Who does all he can with a heart that’s elate.
and trust, He is wanted, that boy, whatsoever his state.
Who cheerfully shoulders what life to him | Wanted—a girl, not a butterfly gay,
brings, Who is gentle and sweet in a womanly way;
Its sunshine and pleasure, or troublesome | No beautiful picture, so languid and fair
things; That always seems labelled, “Please handle
Whose eye meets your own with no shadow with care;”
of fear; But one in whose heart there is hidden true
No wile on the face that is open and clear; worth,

‘Straightforward in purpose, and ready to| Who faithfully follows her mission on earth.

 

push— . Hopeful and earnest in helping and giving,
For “‘a bird in the hand is worth two in the | Finds plenty to do in the life she is living;
bush;” Filling its duties with quiet content,
Who scornfully turns from a something to} Whether adverse or pleasant, just as they
gain, are sent;
If it bring to another a sorrow or pain; In the garb of a queen, or in homespun at-
Who is willing to hold what is right ever rayed,
dear; Whatever her station—is needed that maid.

 

M
 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

BAY OF NAPLES—VASUVIUS IN THE DISTANGR.

  

Doleanoes.

NE of nature’s greatest wonders is vol-
y canoes. These are mountains which
vomit forth fire and smoke and oftentimes
carry destruction in their track. One of
the most famous volcanoes is Vesuvius—only ten miles
distant from Naples. Over 1800 years ago, at the base

 
of this mountain, were situated two cities, but the volcano sent focth its black
shroud of lava and ashes in such quantities that the cities were buried be-
neath them. This eruption has been described by an eye witness, who tells
us that volumes of white smoke, resembling balls of cotton, rose high in the
air, and in its midst was ashes, thrown to a height of not less than 2,000 feet.
A flame of fire shot up for more than two miles in the air, and by its light
small objects could be seen ata distance of six miles. Blocks of lava were
thrown out, some of them weighing many tons. To such a depth were these
cities buried that they were not unearthed until the present century, and what
a history is there revealed! Houses, bodies, implements, food, are found just
as they existed then. Much has been learned of the habits and customs of the
people of that day from the excavations made. As you enter the Bay of
Naples one of the first objects to greet the eye is Mt. Vesuvius. This island
rises from a low plane and has surely risen from the sea, the land around it
being nothing more than the gathered ashes and lava of its many eruptions.
Narrow streams of lava course down the sides of the cone here and there, and
look like rims of black pitch extending far out into the vineyards of the plains.
In going up the mountains you pass gradually from fertile soil, made by
many centuries of decay, to the black and gray expanses of lava and ashes, re-
sembling barren meadows and blasted soil that surround great iron furnaces.
When the lava stream is thrown out and starts down the mountain the outer
surface cools and becomes solid, while underneath the lava still retains its
liquid form. If you were to approach the summit of the mountain you would
see before you what looks like an immense wash-tub filled to the brim with
black, smooth coils of solid pitch; from its centre some fifty yards distant is a
raised object like a dust heap, giving access to the edge of a well some thirty
feet in diameter. Approaching the edge and looking over the crater you
will see behind the rushing jets of steam the walls, here of snowy whiteness,
there stained brown or yellow, and again as black as coal. The walls glow
with a dull red heat, and some twenty feet below the edge rise tongues of
flame. One gazes in awe upon such a scene. . The volcanoes of the earth are
found mostly around the Pacific Ocean—quite near to the coast. There are
some four hundred volcanoes upon the earth at the present time, but, for-
tunately, only a small part have shown signs of activity in modern times.

ee

eRe
[P\chammesd

OHAMMED, the Arabian prophet, lost his father and mother in
infancy, and being left an orphan his uncle became his guardian.
This uncle, whose name was Abu Taleb, treated him with great
kindness, carefully bringing him up to his own business, which
was that of amerchant trading to Syria; and when the boy was
thirteen he took him with him on his j journeys, and Mohammed
afterward conducted acaravan for his uncle to Damascus. Abu
Taleb thought so highly of his nephew’s abilities that he recommended him to
a noble and wealthy widow, as her factor, and the young man managed busi-
ness so well that she rewarded his services by marrying him.

By this marriage, Mohammed, who had been left by his parents in very
poor circumstances, was at once raised from poverty to an equality with the
richest inhabitants of his native town of Mecca. He was only in his twenty-
fifth year, and his wife was many years his senior. He had the greatest
respect for her judgment, and to her he confided his belief that he was to teach
the faith in the one living God, and to destroy the pagan idolatry of the Arabs.
She was his first convert, and they long conducted their devotions in secret;
and it was not till he was in his fortieth year that he announced his mission in
public.

When his wife died, Mohammed sincerely mourned her loss, and it was
some time before he took another wife, Ayesha, the daughter of Abu Bekr.

When Mohammed was sixty-three years old he was attacked by a fever
that some attributed to poison. When he recovered a little, feeling a convic-
tion that his end was near, he ascended the pulpit, and addressed the assem-
bled people, He asked if there was any one whom he had wronged, as if there
were, he would willingly bare his own back to the scourge. ‘Have I aspersed
the reputation of a Mussulman?” said the prophet. ‘Let him proclaim my faults
in the face of the congregation. Has any one been despoiled of his goods?
The little that I possess shall compensate the principal and interest of the
debt.”

When he paused a voice was heard from the crowd, ‘‘Yes, I am entitled to
three drachms of silver.” Mohammed satisfied the man’s demand, and thanked
him for accusing him in this world, rather than at the day of judgment. He
then freed his slaves, and gave directions for the conduct of his funeral, and
till the third day before his death he regularly performed public prayer.

At the last, surrounded by his mourning friends and relatives, the Prophet

 
of Allah lay on a carpet spread on the earthen floor of his little house, his head
supported on the lap of his beloved Ayesha. He fainted with agony. When
he recovered he raised his eyes to the roof, and with steady gaze, but failing

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

voice, he exclaimed in broken accents: ‘“O Allah—pardon my sins—yes—I
come—among my fellow-citizens on high.” Mohammed died in A. D. 632.
\Ohat Gwo Boys Pid.

f-OU'RE sure you wont. be afraid to stay alone if we don’t get
back to-night?” said Mr. Kent to his two sons, Johnnie and
Robert, aged respectively sixteen and fourteen, as he helped
Mrs. Kent into the lumber wagon, which stood before the
door.

g 2 “Of course not,” answered Johnnie, bravely. “I don’t see
wie we chould be afraid of, and I’m sure we aren’t cowards if there is anything
to look out for.”

“No, I know that,” answered Mr. Kent, “but two boys like you wouldn’t
stand much of a show with a good, stout man. I was thinking if I was gone,
whoever stole Johnson’s corn might pay us a visit and see what they could find.
But I guess there ain’t any danger. Shut up the cows and see that the chores
are done early, and we'll be back to-night if we possibly can.”

“Be sure and tend to the fire,” called out Mrs. Kent, as they drove through.
the “bars” into the road. “I always feel scary about that when I'm gone; boys
are so careless.”

Mr. and Mrs. Kent had started for “mill.” ‘Going to mill” was quite an
event in that section of the country in those days.

It generally took two days, as there were no horses and the roads were
bad; but by getting an early start, and by driving home after dark, the task
was sometimes accomplished in a day.

Mrs. Kent had not been to town for two years, and as her husband had
promised her five bushels of wheat to ‘“‘trade out” she went with him to do what
seemed to heran extensive shopping. Settlers were few and far between in
those days. Mr. Kent’s nearest neighbor, some two miles away, was the
man who had lost some corn.

Johnnie and Rob amused themselves about the house and barn all day.
When night came they attended to the chores, and then began to make their
preparations for supper. During the day Johnnie had Sige a partridge, and
they concluded to roast it.

“And we'll have some potatoes and senna Cane: ” said Rob, ‘‘and that'll be
good enough for anybody.”

So they put some potatoes in the ashes of the fire-place and covered them
over with hot coals. Then they hung the partridge over the fire, and Johnnie
kept watch of that and gave it the proper basting which he had heard his
mother say roasted fowls always required, while Rob made the johnny-cake,

 
Rob went at the johnny-cake, and soon had it baking before the fire in the
old tin box which housewives used in those days.

“I tell you what, Rob,” said Johnnie, as he turned the nicely-browning
partridge round, “we're going to havea jolly supper. Just smell this partridge,
will you? Ain't it going to be good?”

“T guess it will!’ answered Rob, whose mouth had been watering for a
slice of it for half an hour back. ‘‘Ain’t it most done?” ;

“T guess so,” answered Johnnie. “You look at the potatoes, wont you pr

Rob scratched away the ashes from the potatoes, and announced that they
were done.

The house was
divided into two
rooms below. One,
in front, wasa sort of
sitting-room, which
Mr. and Mrs. Kent
occupied, while the
boys slept up-stairs.
Up-stairs, also, was
Mr. Kent's granary.
He had thought it
safer to store his
wheat and-corn in
the house. Thieves
would be less likely
to get to it there
without being found MGaee J
out. The second lr ge
room below was used
as a kitchen and dining-room, and it was in this room the boys were cooking
their supper.

“There!” declared Johnnie at last; ‘I do b'lieve this bird’s done. You set
the table, Rob, and I'll take up the victuals.”

Just as he said this the boys started, for they heard steps at the front
door. They looked at each other in alarm. Who could their visitors be?

“I’m going to see who it is,” said Johnnie, bravely; “maybe it’s some of
Johnson’s folks.”

But their visitors were none “of Johnson's folks.” Two men had come in,
and he saw at once that they were strangers. They were rough, brutal-looking

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 
fellows, and the boys felt that they had anything but pleasant visitors to deal
with.

‘‘Where’s your folks?” demanded the foremost man, as Johnnie looked into
the room.

“Gone to mill,” answered Johnnie. “Why? Do you want to see father?”

“Not much; do we, Elder?” laughed the man who had asked the question.

“Wall, not pertickler,” answered the one addressed as “Elder,” with a
chuckle. ‘I'd like to see some o’ that supper I smell, though.”

“So’d I,” said the other. “See here, youngsters, when’s your folks comin’
back?”

“I don't know,” answered Johnnie, from his position in the door-way.
“Father said maybe he’d be back to-night, and maybe not.”

“I guess we're safe enough in stayin’ to tea,” laughed the man. “We've
come to borry some o’ that corn you've stowed away up loft. Now, while we’re
gettin’ it put up, you just put some o’ that meat an’ things you're a-cookin’ on to
the table, and we'll take supper with you. Be spry, ’cause we can’t stay all
night, an’ we wont have any foolin’, you mind that!”

The men went up the ladder leading to the chamber, and Johnnie and Rob
iooked at each other, as if questioning what they should do. :

“I tell you what. I wish we had Johnson here,” whispered Rob. ‘“Them’s
the very men that stole his corn, I'll bet anything.”

“I wish we could trap ’em some way,” said Johnnie, thoughtfully. “Every-
body wants’em tookup. Don’t yous’pose we could get 'em into the cellar, Rob 2”

‘How?’ asked Rob, in an awe-struck tone.

“If we take up the ladder, of course, they can’t get out if we get ’em down
there, can they?” said Johnnie.

“No,” answered Rob, “‘of course not, ’cause it’s all stoned up inside, and
banked with dirt and logs outside.”

“Well, now s’pose we take up the ladder and put it in the wood-shed.
Then we can lean the trap-door up against the wall and spread this piece of
old carpet over the hole, and put something heavy on the corners of it, so it'll
look just as 1f it was spread over a floor. You see this hole where we go down
cellar is right square in front of the door they'll have to come in through to eat.
Now the minute they step on this carpet down they’ll go, ’cause there ain't
anything to hold ’em up, and if we can get ’em down there and shut the trap-
door over ’em, we've got ‘em sure, and they can’t get away.”

“Yes,” answered Rob,.somewhat doubtfully; “but what if one of ’em
should go down and the other one didn’t?”

“But we've got to make 'em,” said Johnnie; “you can stand there by the
2

table, pretending youre at work, and I'll hide here by the door, and if I see
both of ’em ain’t a-going down, I'll give em a push, and you must pitch in and
help me. Will you do it?”

“Of course I will,” answered Rob, sturdily, in spite of his misgivings.
“We'd better be to work, or they'll be down before we're ready for ’em.”

They turned the trap-door up against the partition, then they dragged up
the ladder and carried it into the wood-shed; then Johnnie laid one or two light,
thin strips of pine across the opening in the floor, and Rob spread the carpet
over them. One of their mother’s flat-irons on each corner held it out smoothly,
so that any one not in the secret would never have supposed that there was no
floor under it.

“Hark! They're coming!” said Johnnie, taking his place behind the door.
“Now, for my sake, Rob, don't you get scared, and help me if there’s any
trouble. You be there at the table.” ;

The men came down the ladder, each one with a bag of corn on his back.

“Supper’s ready,” said Rob, going to the door and standing there until
both men were close to him, and one on'the heels of the other, to prevent their
being far enough apart to make the plan a failure by the hindermost man
discovering the trap his comrade had fallen into before he was into it himself.

When they were both on the threshold Rob stepped one side, and the
foremost man put out ‘his foot and supposed he was safe in putting it down.
But when he did so he discovered his mistake. Down went the carpet and he
with it, and his comrade stumbled over him; but clutched at the edges of the
opening in such a way ‘that he must have prevented himself from falling into
the cellar, where the other had brought up with a terrible thud and a volley of
fearful oaths, if Rob had not seized one of the flat-irons and given him several
unmerciful blows about the head, while Johnnie crowded the trap-door down
upon him and threw his whole weight upon it. As he had nothing to stand
upon, and could get no firm hold of anything, he had to let go his clutch and
drop after his comrade. The boys dragged the wood-box upon the trap-door,
and felt that they had trapped the thieves.

“How pale you are!” said Rob, drawing a long breath.

“] didn’t know I got so excited,” answered Johnnie. ‘‘I feel just as weak
as a baby now.”

“You're sure they can’t dig out?” said Rob, as he shuddered at the sound
oaths and curses coming up from the cellar.

“Oh, yes,” answered Johnnie; “you know how many loads of stone we put
in the walls, and the logs and dirt outside. They couldn't get out in a week.”

The boys hadn't much of an appetite for supper, you may be sure. While
they were debating about what it was best to do they heard a rumble of wheels
at the door, and—

“Father's come!” cried Rob, and away both of them ran.
their father had come.

The boys began to tell their adventure in such an excited way that for
some time Mr. Kent couldn’t understand what they were talking about. When
he did he was almost as much excited as they were.

“Mercy onus! We'll all be killed!” cried Mrs. Kent, frightened half out
of her senses. “I'll never put foot inside of that house while them men’s in
that cellar! Dear me! What did possess them boys to do such an awful
thing? I felt just as if something was going to happen! I know they’ll murder
every soul of us before morning!”

But they didn’t. Mr. Kent went after Mr. Johnson, and with his assistance
the thieves were captured and taken to the village where Mr. Kent had been
to mill. It was found out afterward, when they came to trial, that they
belonged to a gang of horse-thieves, and the corn they had stolen was to feed
horses that they had secreted in a swamp not far off. Johnnie and Rob were
heroes for a long time‘after that, and you will hear the story of how they
caught the thieves told in that neighborhood now, if you happened to visit it.

Sure enough,

—EBEN E, REXFORD.

x % #

| CN Queer Avy.

E doesn’t like to study, it “weakens
J i his eyes,”

rok But the “right sort” of book will in-
Goss sure a surprise—
Let it be about Indians, pirates or bears,
And he’s lost for the day to all mundane

affairs;
By sunlight or gaslight his vision is clear—
Now, isn’t that queer?

 

At thought of an errand, he’s “tired as a
hound,” :

Very weary of life,andof “tramping around;”

But if there’s a band or a circus in sight,

He will follow it gladly from morning till
night;

 

The showman will capture him some day, I
fear,
For he is so queer,

If there’s work in the garden, his head “aches

to split.”

And his back is so lame that he “can’t dig a
bit;”

Bat mention base-ball, and he’s cured very
soon,

And he’ll dig for a woodchuck the whole
afternoon,

Do you think he “plays ’possum?” He
seemed quite sincere;

But—zsn’¢ he queer?
—W.H.S.
_» flowers of \®inter.

0 would think that in ice and snow are found some of the
most beautiful flowers that nature has produced? Not flow-
ers that greet our senses with their sweet odor, but flowers

i4<¢ that greet our eyes with forms so beautiful that we never _

tire of looking at
them.

Our little
readers have often
watched the snow fall,
and at times,perhaps, have gathered
some of the larger flakes, and
watched them as they melted slowly
on the hand. If we could gather
some snow-flakes and they would
hold their shape until we could look
at them carefully, we would discover
forms more beautiful than one would
believe. When the snow falls in
calm air, the flakes are always in the
form of six-pointed stars, and,
strange as it may seem, no two of
these are exactly alike. We have
tried to show you in our picture some
of the many forms which snow-flakes
assume. Examine them under a
microscope, and you will be surprised
at their beauty.

But, beantiful as the snow-flakes
are, they cannot be compared to the
magic forms locked up ina block of “"* On RLOnEeS.
ice. Even the most skillful work of
man, when placed under a microscope, appears coarse and unsightly, but not
so with nature’s work. The more it is magnified the more clearly its beauties
appear. Examine a piece of ice by means of a powerful glass, and you will
find it made of tiny star crystals which look almost like flakes, in the center of
which is a little spot as bright as polished silver. Strange as it may seem, this

     
is only a bubble of air. Snow, as you know, is made up of small particles of
ice. If by pressure we squeeze the air out of them, we can soon bring these little
pieces of ice together. Then they freeze,
as we termit. Thatis, they stick together,
and form a solid block. It is in this way
that glaciers and rivers of ice are formed.
You can easily see this by placinga number
of small pieces of ice in a basin of water
and causing them to touch each other.
Wherever they come together they will
freeze. You can form a chain of such
pieces, and by taking hold of one you can
draw the whole chain after it. Inthis way,
chains of icebergs are sometimes formed in
the Arctic seas.

You have also, oftentimes, on cold
mornings, witnessed the wonderful work of
Jack Frost upon the window-pane. Here,
too, you can see the most beautiful crystal
forms, the most wonderful stars, and a
net-work to which the most delicate lace
is coarse indeed. Wonderful, wonderful are the works of nature!

 

SNOW CRYSTALS.

 
     

     

 

Gh we.
sh mee
WS

illoan tee , oa,

ne oy Wie

   
 

ITTLE ones,” said a hen to her brood one day in autumn, ‘“‘This
is the time for nuts and acorns, let us go to the mountains and
feast ourselves before they are all gone.” .v

“That will be a happy time,” said the chicks. “Yes, we
are quite ready.”
So they started off together very early in the morning, and
stayed all day feasting.

Now I cannot say whether they had eaten too much, or if they really were
tired; at all events, they could not walk home, so they made a little carriage of
nut shells. No sooner was it finished than the hen seated herself in it, and
said to the chicks, ‘“Come, you may as well harness yourself to the carriage and
draw me home; you are stronger than I am.’

“Very likely,” they replied,
“that we should be harnessed like
a horse and draw you; it would be
better to walk home than to do
that. No, if we have the carriage
at all, we shall ride, but we're not
going to draw you, so don't expect
Lee

 

While they were contending,
a duck came by. ‘You thieves,”
she quacked, “what are you doing
in my nut mountains? be off quick-
ly, or you will get the worst of it,” a
and she gave the hen a tremendous peck with ie beak.
But the hen was not going to stand that; she flew at the duck and beat her
so that she was obliged to beg for mercy, and at last allowed herself to be har-
_nessed to the little carriage as a punishment for her interference.
They all got in and drove at a furious rate, crying out, “Get on, duck! get
on!” /
After traveling some distance they overtook two foot passengers—a pin
and aneedle. ‘Halt, halt,” they cried, ‘‘do help us, we are so tired that we
cannot goa step farther; night is coming on, the roads are so dusty, and we
cannot sit down. We stopped at the door of a tailors shop and asked for
shelter, but he said he had too many like us already.”

 
The hen, seeing they were slight thin people who would not require much
room, allowed them to enter the carriage, only making them promise not to
step on the chicks’ feet.

Late at night they reached a roadside inn, and by this time the duck was
getting so tired that her legs were unsteady, and she waddled terribly. So
they stopped and asked for supper and a night’s lodging. The landlord made
many objections at first—his house was already full, and he thought these new-
comers did not look very well.

However, the hen flattered the old landlord, and promised that whatever
eggs the she and the duck might lay while they stayed should be his. So the
landlord gave them shelter, and glad enough they were of a night's rest. |

Early in the morning, while every one else was asleep, the chicks and hen
awoke, and seeing the egg which she had laid they made a good breakfast on
it, and threw the shell into the kitchen fire. Then they went to the pin-cushion,
‘where the needle and pin still lay asleep, and, carrying them away, stuck the
needle in the cushion of the landlord’s arm-chair and the pin in his towel.

After performing these tricks they flew away through the open window,
and across the heath.

The duck had roosted in the outer court, and was awakened by the rustle
of wings; rousing herself quickly, she plumed her feathers, and espying a
stream near, partly flew and partly waddled down to it, for to swim home
‘would be far better than drawing that heavy carriage.

A few hours after this, the landlord arose and prepared to wash himself;
but on taking up his towel to wipe his face, the point of a pin made a long red
“scratch right across from one ear to the other.

It was rather painful; but he dressed himself quickly, and went into the
kitchen to light his pipe. As he stooped to putin a match, out popped a piece
-of burnt egg-shell into his eye.

The pain made him start back, and sink down into his chair, which stood
near; but he started up again more quickly than he had sat down, for the
‘needle in the cushion pricked him terribly.

Then was the landlord very angry, and began to suspect his guests who
‘had arrived so late the night before. He went out to look for them, and found
they were gone. Then he took an oath that he would never again admit such
‘knaves into his house—ragamuffins who ate a great deal, paid nothing, and,
above all, instead of thanks, performed knavish tricks.

ae wee
 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

ESSONS ARE OVER

Be

EN TH

WH