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| author | Roger Frank <rfrank@pglaf.org> | 2025-10-15 04:48:18 -0700 |
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| committer | Roger Frank <rfrank@pglaf.org> | 2025-10-15 04:48:18 -0700 |
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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6833f05 --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,3 @@ +* text=auto +*.txt text +*.md text diff --git a/16171-8.txt b/16171-8.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..5aca135 --- /dev/null +++ b/16171-8.txt @@ -0,0 +1,5088 @@ +The Project Gutenberg eBook, Our Boys, by Various + + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + + + + +Title: Our Boys + Entertaining Stories by Popular Authors + + +Author: Various + + + +Release Date: July 1, 2005 [eBook #16171] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + + +***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK OUR BOYS*** + + +E-text prepared by Marilynda Fraser-Cunliffe, William Flis, and the +Project Gutenberg Online Distributed Proofreading Team +(https://www.pgdp.net) + + + +Note: Project Gutenberg also has an HTML version of this + file which includes the original illustrations. + See 16171-h.htm or 16171-h.zip: + (https://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/1/6/1/7/16171/16171-h/16171-h.htm) + or + (https://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/1/6/1/7/16171/16171-h.zip) + + + + + +OUR BOYS + +Entertaining Stories by Popular Authors + +by + +GEORGE CARY EGGLESTON, MARY E. WILKINS, FRANCES A. HUMPHREY, MARGARET +EYTINGE, MRS. A. D. T. WHITNEY, MARY D. BRINE, ETC., ETC., ETC. + +Profusely Illustrated + +The Saalfield Publishing Company, Akron, Ohio + +1904 + + + + + + + +[Illustration] + + + +[Illustration] + + + +[Illustration] + + + + +THE CAT-TAIL ARROW + +BY CLARA DOTY BATES + + + Little Sammie made a bow, + Well indeed he loved to whittle, + Shaped it like the half of O-- + How he could I scarcely know, + For his fingers were so little. + As he whittled came a sigh: + "If I only had an arrow; + Something light enough to fly + To the tree-tops or the sky! + Then I'd have such fun tomorrow." + + Then he thought of all the slim + Things that grow--the hazel bushes, + Willow branches, poplars trim-- + And yet nothing suited him + Till he chanced to think of rushes. + He knew well a quiet pool + Where he always paused a minute + On his way to district school, + Just to see the waters cool + And his own bright face within it. + + There the cat-tails thickly grew, + With their heads so brown and furry; + They were straight and slender too, + Plenty strong enough he knew, + And he sought them in a hurry. + Such an arrow as he wrought-- + Almost passed a boy's believing. + When he drew the bow-string taut, + Out of sight and quick as thought + Up it went, the blue air cleaving. + + Who was Sammie, would you know? + It was grandpa--he was little + Nearly eighty years ago; + But 'tis no doubt as fine a bow + As the best he still could whittle. + + + + +[Illustration: A YOUNG SALT] + +HE COULDN'T SAY NO. + + + [[I]]t was sad and it was strange! + He just was full of knowledge, + His studies swept the whole broad range + Of High School and of College; + He read in Greek and Latin too, + Loud Sanscrit he could utter, + But one small thing he couldn't do + That comes as pat to me and you + As eating bread and butter: + He couldn't say "No!" He couldn't say "No!" + I'm sorry to say it was really so! + He'd diddle, and dawdle, and stutter, but oh! + When it came to the point he could never say "No!" + + Geometry he knew by rote, + Like any Harvard Proctor; + He'd sing a fugue out, note by note; + Knew Physics like a Doctor; + He spoke in German and in French; + Knew each Botanic table; + But one small word that you'll agree + Comes pat enough to you and me, + To speak he was not able: + For he couldn't say "No!" He couldn't say "No!" + 'Tis dreadful, of course, but 'twas really so. + He'd diddle, and dawdle, and stutter, but oh! + When it came to the point he could never say "No!" + + And he could fence, and swim, and float, + And use the gloves with ease too, + Could play base ball, and row a boat, + And hang on a trapeze too; + His temper was beyond rebuke, + And nothing made him lose it; + His strength was something quite superb, + But what's the use of having nerve + If one can never use it? + He couldn't say "No!" He couldn't say "No!" + If one asked him to come, if one asked him to go, + He'd diddle, and dawdle, and stutter, but oh! + When it came to the point he could never say "No!" + + When he was but a little lad, + In life's small ways progressing, + He fell into this habit bad + Of always acquiescing; + 'Twas such an amiable trait, + To friend as well as stranger, + That half unconsciously at last + The custom held him hard and fast + Before he knew the danger, + And he couldn't say "No!" He couldn't say "No!" + To his prospects you see 'twas a terrible blow. + He'd diddle, and dawdle, and stutter, but oh! + When it came to the point he could never say "No!" + + And so for all his weary days + The best of chances failed him; + He lived in strange and troublous ways + And never knew what ailed him; + He'd go to skate when ice was thin; + He'd join in deeds unlawful, + He'd lend his name to worthless notes, + He'd speculate in stocks and oats; + 'Twas positively awful, + For he couldn't say "No!" He couldn't say "No!" + He would veer like a weather-cock turning so slow; + He'd diddle, and dawdle, and stutter, but oh! + When it came to the point he could never say "No!" + + Then boys and girls who hear my song, + Pray heed its theme alarming: + Be good, be wise, be kind, be strong-- + These traits are always charming, + But all your learning, all your skill + With well-trained brain and muscle, + Might just as well be left alone, + If you can't cultivate backbone + To help you in life's tussle, + And learn to say "No!" Yes, learn to say "No!" + Or you'll fall from the heights to the rapids below! + You may waver, and falter, and tremble, but oh! + When your conscience requires it, be sure and shout "No!" + +M.E.B. + + + + +[Illustration: Going into the Chapel.] + +THE CHRISTMAS MONKS. + + +All children have wondered unceasingly from their very first Christmas +up to their very last Christmas, where the Christmas presents come +from. It is very easy to say that Santa Claus brought them. All well +regulated people know that, of course; about the reindeer, and the +sledge, and the pack crammed with toys, the chimney, and all the rest +of it--that is all true, of course, and everybody knows about it; but +that is not the question which puzzles. What children want to know is, +where do these Christmas presents come from in the first place? Where +does Santa Claus get them? Well, the answer to that is, _In the garden +of the Christmas Monks_. This has not been known until very lately; +that is, it has not been known till very lately except in the +immediate vicinity of the Christmas Monks. There, of course, it has +been known for ages. It is rather an out-of-the-way place; and that +accounts for our never hearing of it before. + +The Convent of the Christmas Monks is a most charmingly picturesque +pile of old buildings; there are towers and turrets, and peaked roofs +and arches, and everything which could possibly be thought of the +architectural line, to make a convent picturesque. It is built +of graystone; but it is only once in a while that you can see the +graystone, for the walls are almost completely covered with mistletoe +and ivy and evergreen. There are the most delicious little arched +windows with diamond panes peeping out from the mistletoe and +evergreen, and always at all times of the year, a little Christmas +wreath of ivy and holly-berries is suspended in the centre of every +window. Over all the doors, which are likewise arched, are Christmas +garlands, and over the main entrance _Merry Christmas_ in evergreen +letters. + +The Christmas Monks are a jolly brethren; the robes of their order +are white, gilded with green garlands, and they never are seen out at +any time of the year without Christmas wreaths on their heads. Every +morning they file in a long procession into the chapel to sing a +Christmas carol; and every evening they ring a Christmas chime on the +convent bells. They eat roast turkey and plum pudding and mince-pie +for dinner all the year round; and always carry what is left in +baskets trimmed with evergreen to the poor people. There are always +wax candles lighted and set in every window of the convent at +nightfall; and when the people in the country about get uncommonly +blue and down-hearted, they always go for a cure to look at the +Convent of the Christmas Monks after the candles are lighted and the +chimes are ringing. It brings to mind things which never fail to cheer +them. + +But the principal thing about the Convent of the Christmas Monks is +the garden; for that is where the Christmas presents grow. This garden +extends over a large number of acres, and is divided into different +departments, just as we divide our flower and vegetable gardens; +one bed for onions, one for cabbages, and one for phlox, and one for +verbenas, etc. + +Every spring the Christmas Monks go out to sow the Christmas-present +seeds after they have ploughed the ground and made it all ready. + +There is one enormous bed devoted to rocking-horses. The rocking-horse +seed is curious enough; just little bits of rocking-horses so small +that they can only be seen through a very, very powerful microscope. +The Monks drop these at quite a distance from each other, so that they +will not interfere while growing; then they cover them up neatly with +earth, and put up a sign-post with "Rocking-horses" on it in evergreen +letters. Just so with the penny-trumpet seed, and the toy-furniture +seed, the skate-seed, the sled-seed, and all the others. + +Perhaps the prettiest, and most interesting part of the garden, is +that devoted to wax dolls. There are other beds for the commoner +dolls--for the rag dolls, and the china dolls, and the rubber dolls, +but of course wax dolls would look much handsomer growing. Wax dolls +have to be planted quite early in the season; for they need a good +start before the sun is very high. The seeds are the loveliest bits +of microscopic dolls imaginable. The Monks sow them pretty close +together, and they begin to come up by the middle of May. There is +first just a little glimmer of gold, or flaxen, or black, or brown, as +the case may be, above the soil. Then the snowy foreheads appear, and +the blue eyes, and the black eyes, and, later on, all those enchanting +little heads are out of the ground, and are nodding and winking and +smiling to each other the whole extent of the field; with their pinky +cheeks and sparkling eyes and curly hair there is nothing so pretty as +these little wax doll heads peeping out of the earth. Gradually, more +and more of them come to light, and finally by Christmas they are all +ready to gather. There they stand, swaying to and fro, and dancing +lightly on their slender feet which are connected with the ground, +each by a tiny green stem; their dresses of pink, or blue, or +white--for their dresses grow with them--flutter in the air. Just +about the prettiest sight in the world is the bed of wax dolls in the +garden of the Christmas Monks at Christmas time. Of course ever since +this convent and garden were established (and that was so long ago +that the wisest man can find no books about it) their glories have +attracted a vast deal of admiration and curiosity from the young +people in the surrounding country; but as the garden is enclosed on +all sides by an immensely thick and high hedge, which no boy could +climb, or peep over, they could only judge of the garden by the fruits +which were parceled out to them on Christmas-day. + +You can judge, then, of the sensation among the young folks, and older +ones, for that matter, when one evening there appeared hung upon a +conspicuous place in the garden-hedge, a broad strip of white cloth +trimmed with evergreen and printed with the following notice in +evergreen letters: + +"WANTED--By the Christmas Monks, two _good_ boys to assist in garden +work. Applicants will be examined by Fathers Anselmus and Ambrose, in +the convent refectory, on April 10th." + +This notice was hung out about five o'clock in the evening, some time +in the early part of February. By noon the street was so full of boys +staring at it with their mouths wide open, so as to see better, that +the king was obliged to send his bodyguard before him to clear the +way with brooms, when he wanted to pass on his way from his chamber of +state to his palace. + +There was not a boy in the country but looked upon this position as +the height of human felicity. To work all the year in that wonderful +garden, and see those wonderful things growing! and without doubt any +body who worked there could have all the toys he wanted, just as a boy +who works in a candy-shop always has all the candy he wants! + +But the great difficulty, of course, was about the degree of goodness +requisite to pass the examination. The boys in this country were no +worse than the boys in other countries, but there were not many of +them that would not have done a little differently if he had only +known beforehand of the advertisement of the Christmas Monks. However, +they made the most of the time remaining, and were so good all over +the kingdom that a very millennium seemed dawning. The school teachers +used their ferrules for fire wood, and the king ordered all the birch +trees cut down and exported, as he thought there would be no more call +for them in his own realm. + +[Illustration: The boys read the notice.] + +When the time for the examination drew near, there were two boys whom +every one thought would obtain the situation, although some of the +other boys had lingering hopes for themselves; if only the Monks would +examine them on the last six weeks, they thought they might pass. +Still all the older people had decided in their minds that the Monks +would choose these two boys. One was the Prince, the king's oldest +son; and the other was a poor boy named Peter. The Prince was no +better than the other boys; indeed, to tell the truth, he was not so +good; in fact, was the biggest rogue in the whole country; but all +the lords and the ladies, and all the people who admired the lords and +ladies, said it was their solemn belief that the Prince was the best +boy in the whole kingdom; and they were prepared to give in their +testimony, one and all, to that effect to the Christmas Monks. + +Peter was really and truly such a good boy that there was no excuse +for saying he was not. His father and mother were poor people; and +Peter worked every minute out of school hours to help them along. +Then he had a sweet little crippled sister whom he was never tired of +caring for. Then, too, he contrived to find time to do lots of little +kindnesses for other people. He always studied his lessons faithfully, +and never ran away from school. Peter was such a good boy, and so +modest and unsuspicious that he was good, that everybody loved him. He +had not the least idea that he could get the place with the Christmas +Monks, but the Prince was sure of it. + +When the examination day came all the boys from far and near, with +their hair neatly brushed and parted, and dressed in their best +clothes, flocked into the convent. Many of their relatives and friends +went with them to witness the examination. + +The refectory of the convent, where they assembled, was a very large +hall with a delicious smell of roast turkey and plum pudding in it. +All the little boys sniffed, and their mouths watered. + +The two fathers who were to examine the boys were perched up in a +high pulpit so profusely trimmed with evergreen that it looked like a +bird's nest; they were remarkably pleasant-looking men, and their eyes +twinkled merrily under their Christmas wreaths. Father Anselmus was +a little the taller of the two, and Father Ambrose was a little the +broader; and that was about all the difference between them in looks. + +[Illustration: The Prince & Peter are examined by the Monks.] + +The little boys all stood up in a row, their friends stationed +themselves in good places, and the examination began. + +Then if one had been placed beside the entrance to the convent, he +would have seen one after another, a crestfallen little boy with his +arm lifted up and crooked, and his face hidden in it, come out and +walk forlornly away. He had failed to pass. + +The two fathers found out that this boy had robbed birds' nests, +and this one stolen apples. And one after another they walked +disconsolately away till there were only two boys left: the Prince and +Peter. + +"Now, your Highness," said Father Anselmus, who always took the lead +in the questions, "are you a good boy?" + +"O holy Father!" exclaimed all the people--there were a good many fine +folks from the court present. "He is such a good boy! such a wonderful +boy! We never knew him to do a wrong thing in his sweet life." + +"I don't suppose he ever robbed a bird's nest?" said Father Ambrose a +little doubtfully. + +"No, no!" chorused the people. + +"Nor tormented a kitten?" + +"No, no, no!" cried they all. + +At last everybody being so confident that here could be no reasonable +fault found with the Prince, he was pronounced competent to enter upon +the Monks' service. Peter they knew a great deal about before--indeed, +a glance at his face was enough to satisfy any one of his goodness; +for he did look more like one of the boy angels in the altar-piece +than anything else. So after a few questions, they accepted him also; +and the people went home and left the two boys with the Christmas +Monks. + +The next morning Peter was obliged to lay aside his homespun coat, +and the Prince his velvet tunic, and both were dressed in some little +white robes with evergreen girdles like the Monks. Then the Prince +was set to sowing Noah's ark seed, and Peter picture-book seed. Up +and down they went scattering the seed. Peter sang a little psalm +to himself, but the Prince grumbled because they had not given him +gold-watch or gem seed to plant instead of the toy which he had +outgrown long ago. By noon Peter had planted all his picture-books, +and fastened up the card to mark them on the pole; but the Prince had +dawdled so his work was not half done. + +"We are going to have a trial with this boy," said the Monks to each +other; "we shall have to set him a penance at once, or we cannot +manage him at all." + +So the Prince had to go without his dinner, and kneel on dried peas in +the chapel all the afternoon. The next day he finished his Noah's Arks +meekly; but the next day he rebelled again and had to go the whole +length of the field where they planted jewsharps, on his knees. And so +it was about every other day for the whole year. + +One of the brothers had to be set apart in a meditating cell to invent +new penances; for they had used up all on their list before the Prince +had been with them three months. + +The Prince became dreadfully tired of his convent life, and if +he could have brought it about would have run away. Peter, on the +contrary, had never been so happy in his life. He worked like a bee, +and the pleasure he took in seeing the lovely things he had planted +come up, was unbounded, and the Christmas carols and chimes delighted +his soul. Then, too, he had never fared so well in his life. He could +never remember the time before when he had been a whole week without +being hungry. He sent his wages every month to his parents; and he +never ceased to wonder at the discontent of the Prince. + +"They grow so slow," the Prince would say, wrinkling up his handsome +forehead. "I expected to have a bushelful of new toys every month; and +not one have I had yet. And these stingy old Monks say I can only have +my usual Christmas share anyway, nor can I pick them out myself. I +never saw such a stupid place to stay in my life. I want to have my +velvet tunic on and go home to the palace and ride on my white pony +with the silver tail, and hear them all tell me how charming I am." +Then the Prince would crook his arm and put his head on it and cry. + +Peter pitied him, and tried to comfort him, but it was not of much +use, for the Prince got angry because he was not discontented as well +as himself. + +Two weeks before Christmas everything in the garden was nearly ready +to be picked. Some few things needed a little more December sun, but +everything looked perfect. Some of the Jack-in-the-boxes would not +pop out quite quick enough, and some of the jumping-Jacks were hardly +as limber as they might be as yet; that was all. As it was so near +Christmas the Monks were engaged in their holy exercises in the chapel +for the greater part of the time, and only went over the garden once a +day to see if everything was all right. + +The Prince and Peter were obliged to be there all the time. There was +plenty of work for them to do; for once in a while something would +blow over, and then there were the penny-trumpets to keep in tune; and +that was a vast sight of work. + +One morning the Prince was at one end of the garden straightening up +some wooden soldiers which had toppled over, and Peter was in the wax +doll bed dusting the dolls. All of a sudden he heard a sweet little +voice: "O, Peter!" He thought at first one of the dolls was talking, +but they could not say anything but papa and mamma; and had the merest +apologies for voices anyway. "Here I am, Peter!" and there was a +little pull at his sleeve. There was his little sister. She was not +any taller than the dolls around her, and looked uncommonly like the +prettiest, pinkest-cheeked, yellowest-haired ones; so it was no wonder +that Peter did not see her at first. She stood there poising herself +on her crutches, poor little thing, and smiling lovingly up at Peter. + +"Oh, you darling!" cried Peter, catching her up in his arms. "How did +you get in here?" + +"I stole in behind one of the Monks," said she. "I saw him going up +the street past our house, and I ran out and kept behind him all the +way. When he opened the gate I whisked in too, and then I followed him +into the garden. I've been here with the dollies ever since." + +"Well," said poor Peter, "I don't see what I am going to do with you, +now you are here. I can't let you out again; and I don't know what the +Monks will say." + +"Oh, I know!" cried the little girl gayly. "I'll stay out here in +the garden. I can sleep in one of those beautiful dolls' cradles over +there; and you can bring me something to eat." + +[Illustration: The boys at work in the Convent Garden.] + +"But the Monks come out every morning to look over the garden, and +they'll be sure to find you," said her brother, anxiously. + +"No, I'll hide! O Peter, here is a place where there isn't any doll!" + +"Yes; that doll did not come up." + +"Well, I'll tell you what I'll do! I'll just stand here in this place +where the doll didn't come up, and nobody can tell the difference." + +"Well, I don't know but you can do that," said Peter, although he was +still ill at ease. He was so good a boy he was very much afraid of +doing wrong, and offending his kind friends the Monks; at the same +time he could not help being glad to see his dear little sister. + +He smuggled some food out to her, and she played merrily about him all +day; and at night he tucked her into one of the dolls' cradles with +lace pillows and quilt of rose-colored silk. + +The next morning when the Monks were going the rounds, the father who +inspected the wax doll bed was a bit nearsighted, and he never noticed +the difference between the dolls and Peter's little sister, who swung +herself on her crutches, and looked just as much like a wax doll as +she possibly could. So the two were delighted with the success of +their plan. + +They went on thus for a few days, and Peter could not help being happy +with his darling little sister, although at the same time he could not +help worrying for fear he was doing wrong. + +Something else happened now, which made him worry still more; +the Prince ran away. He had been watching for a long time for an +opportunity to possess himself of a certain long ladder made of +twisted evergreen ropes, which the Monks kept locked up in the +toolhouse. Lately, by some oversight, the toolhouse had been left +unlocked one day, and the Prince got the ladder. It was the latter +part of the afternoon, and the Christmas Monks were all in the chapel +practicing Christmas carols. The Prince found a very large hamper, +and picked as many Christmas presents for himself as he could stuff +into it; then he put the ladder against the high gate in front of +the convent, and climbed up, dragging the hamper after him. When he +reached the top of the gate, which was quite broad, he sat down to +rest for a moment before pulling the ladder up so as to drop it on the +other side. + +He gave his feet a little triumphant kick as he looked back at his +prison, and down slid the evergreen ladder! The Prince lost his +balance, and would inevitably have broken his neck if he had not clung +desperately to the hamper which hung over on the convent side of the +fence; and as it was just the same weight as the Prince, it kept him +suspended on the other. + +He screamed with all the force of his royal lungs; was heard by a +party of noblemen who were galloping up the street; was rescued, and +carried in state to the palace. But he was obliged to drop the hamper +of presents, for with it all the ingenuity of the noblemen could not +rescue him as speedily as it was necessary they should. + +When the good Monks discovered the escape of the Prince they were +greatly grieved, for they had tried their best to do well by him; and +poor Peter could with difficulty be comforted. He had been very fond +of the Prince, although the latter had done little except torment him +for the whole year; but Peter had a way of being fond of folks. + +A few days after the Prince ran away, and the day before the one on +which the Christmas presents were to be gathered, the nearsighted +father went out into the wax doll field again; but this time he had +his spectacles on, and could see just as well as any one, and even +a little better. Peter's little sister was swinging herself on her +crutches, in the place where the wax doll did not come up, tipping her +little face up, and smiling just like the dolls around her. + +"Why, what is this!" said the father. "_Hoc credam!_ I thought that +wax doll did not come up. Can my eyes deceive me? _non verum est!_ +There is a doll there--and what a doll! on crutches, and in poor, +homely gear!" + +Then the nearsighted father put out his hand toward Peter's little +sister. She jumped--she could not help it, and the holy father jumped +too; the Christmas wreath actually tumbled off his head. + +"It is a miracle!" exclaimed he when he could speak; "the little girl +is alive! _parra puella viva est._ I will pick her and take her to the +brethren, and we will pay her the honors she is entitled to." + +Then the good father put on his Christmas wreath, for he dare not +venture before his abbot without it, picked up Peter's little sister, +who was trembling in all her little bones, and carried her into the +chapel, where the Monks were just assembling to sing another carol. +He went right up to the Christmas abbot, who was seated in a splendid +chair, and looked like a king. + +"Most holy abbot," said the nearsighted father, holding out Peter's +little sister, "behold a miracle, _vide miraculum_! Thou wilt remember +that there was one wax doll planted which did not come up. Behold, in +her place I have found this doll on crutches, which is--alive!" + +"Let me see her!" said the abbot; and all the other Monks crowded +around, opening their mouths just like the little boys around the +notice, in order to see better. + +"_Verum est_," said the abbot. "It is verily a miracle." + +"Rather a lame miracle," said the brother who had charge of the funny +picture-books and the toy monkeys; they rather threw his mind off +its level of sobriety, and he was apt to make frivolous speeches +unbecoming a monk. + +The abbot gave him a reproving glance, and the brother, who was the +leach of the convent, came forward. "Let me look at the miracle, most +holy abbot," said he. He took up Peter's sister, and looked carefully +at the small, twisted ankle. "I think I can cure this with my herbs +and simples," said he. + +"But I don't know," said the abbot doubtfully. "I never heard of +curing a miracle." + +"If it is not lawful, my humble power will not suffice to cure it," +said the father who was the leach. + +"True," said the abbot; "take her, then, and exercise thy healing art +upon her, and we will go on with our Christmas devotions, for which we +should now feel all the more zeal." + +So the father took away Peter's little sister, who was still too +frightened to speak. + +The Christmas Monk was a wonderful doctor, for by Christmas eve +the little girl was completely cured of her lameness. This may seem +incredible, but it was owing in great part to the herbs and simples, +which are of a species that our doctors have no knowledge of; and also +to a wonderful lotion which has never been advertised on our fences. + +Peter of course heard the talk about the miracle, and knew at once +what it meant. He was almost heartbroken to think he was deceiving the +Monks so, but at the same time he did not dare to confess the truth +for fear they would put a penance upon his sister, and he could not +bear to think of her having to kneel upon dried peas. + +[Illustration: The Prince Runs Away.] + +He worked hard picking Christmas presents, and hid his unhappiness +as best he could. On Christmas eve he was called into the chapel. The +Christmas Monks were all assembled there. The walls were covered with +green garlands and boughs and sprays of holly berries, and branches +of wax lights Were gleaming brightly amongst them. The altar and the +picture of the Blessed Child behind it were so bright as to almost +dazzle one; and right up in the midst of it, in a lovely white dress, +all wreaths and jewels, in a little chair with a canopy woven of green +branches over it, sat Peter's little sister. + +And there were all the Christmas Monks in their white robes and +wreaths, going up in a long procession, with their hands full of the +very showiest Christmas presents to offer them to her! + +But when they reached her and held out the lovely presents--the +first was an enchanting wax doll, the biggest beauty in the whole +garden--instead of reaching out her hands for them, she just drew +back, and said in her little sweet, piping voice: "Please, I ain't a +millacle, I'm only Peter's little sister." + +"Peter?" said the abbot; "the Peter who works in our garden?" + +"Yes," said the little sister. + +Now here was a fine opportunity for a whole convent full of monks to +look foolish--filing up in procession with their hands full of gifts +to offer to a miracle, and finding there was no miracle, but only +Peter's little sister. + +But the abbot of the Christmas Monks had always maintained that there +were two ways of looking at all things; if any object was not what you +wanted it to be in one light, that there was another light in which it +would be sure to meet your views. + +So now he brought this philosophy to bear. + +"This little girl did not come up in the place of the wax doll, and +she is not a miracle in that light," said he; "but look at her in +another light and she is a miracle--do you not see?" + +They all looked at her, the darling little girl, the very meaning and +sweetness of all Christmas in her loving, trusting, innocent face. + +"Yes," said all the Christmas Monks, "she is a miracle." And they all +laid their beautiful Christmas presents down before her. + +Peter was so delighted he hardly knew himself; and, oh! the joy there +was when he led his little sister home on Christmas-day, and showed +all the wonderful presents. + +The Christmas Monks always retained Peter in their employ--in fact he +is in their employ to this day. And his parents, and his little +sister who was entirely cured of her lameness, have never wanted for +anything. + +As for the Prince, the courtiers were never tired of discussing and +admiring his wonderful knowledge of physics which led to his adjusting +the weight of the hamper of Christmas presents to his own so nicely +that he could not fall. The Prince liked the talk and the admiration +well enough, but he could not help, also, being a little glum; for he +got no Christmas presents that year. + +MARY E. WILKINS. + + + + +[Illustration] + +TEDDY AND THE ECHO. + + + Teddy is out upon the lake; + His oars a softened click-clack make; + On all that water bright and blue, + His boat is the only one in view; + So, when he hears another oar + Click-clack along the farthest shore, + "Heigh-ho," he cries, "out for a row! + Echo is out! heigh-ho--heigh-ho!" + "Heigh-ho, heigh-ho!" + Sounds from the distance, faint and low. + + Then Teddy whistles that he may hear + Her answering whistle, soft and clear; + Out of the greenwood, leafy, mute, + Pipes her mimicking, silver flute, + And, though her mellow measures are + Always behind him half a bar, + 'Tis sweet to hear her falter so; + And Ted calls back, "Bravo, bravo!" + "Bravo, bravo!" + Comes from the distance, faint and low. + + She laughs at trifles loud and long; + Splashes the water, sings a song; + Tells him everything she is told, + Saucy or tender, rough or bold; + One might think from the merry noise + That the quiet wood was full of boys, + Till Ted, grown tired, cries out, "Oh, no! + 'Tis dinner time and I must go!" + "Must go? must go?" + Sighs from the distance, sad and low. + + When Ted and his clatter are away, + Where does the little Echo stay? + Perched on a rock to watch for him? + Or keeping a lookout from some limb? + If he were to push his boat to land, + Would he find her footprint on the sand? + Or would she come to his blithe "hello," + Red as a rose, or white as snow? + Ah no, ah no! + Never can Teddy see Echo! + +MRS. CLARA DOTY BATES. + + + + +SONG OF THE CHRISTMAS STOCKINGS. + + + Six merry stockings in the firelight, + Hanging by the chimney snug and tight: + Jolly, jolly red, + That belongs to Ted; + Daintiest blue, + That belongs to Sue; + Old brown fellow + Hanging long, + That belongs to Joe, + Big and strong; + Little, wee, pink mite + Covers Baby's toes-- + Won't she pull it open + With funny little crows! + Sober, dark gray, + Quiet little mouse, + That belongs to Sybil + Of all the house; + One stocking left, + Whose should it be? + Why, that I'm sure + Must belong to me! + Well, so they hang, packed to the brim, + Swing, swing, swing, in the firelight dim. + +[Illustration] + + 'Twas the middle of the night. + Open flew my eyes; + I started up in bed, + And stared in surprise; + I rubbed my eyes, I rubbed my ears, + I saw the stockings swing, I heard the stockings sing; + Out in the firelight + Merry and bright, + Snug and tight, + Six were swinging, + Six were singing, + Like everything! + And the red, and the blue, and the brown, and the gray, + And the pink one, and mine, had it all their own way, + And no one could stop them--because, don't you see, + Nobody heard 'em--but just poor me! + + "All day we carry toes, + To-night we carry candy; + Christmas comes once a year + Very nice and handy. + Run, run, race all day, + Mother mends us after play, + We don't care, life is gay, + Sing and swing, away, away! + + "Boots and little tired shoes, + We kick 'em off in glee; + It's fun to hang up here + And Santa Claus to see. + Run, run, race all day, + Mother mends us after play, + We don't care, life is gay, + Sing and swing, away, away! + + "To-morrow down we come, + The sweet things tumble out, + Then carrying toes again + We'll have to trot about. + Run, run, race all day, + Mother'll mend us after play, + We don't care, we'll swing so gay + While we can--away, away!" + +MARGARET SIDNEY. + + + + +JOE LAMBERT'S FERRY. + + +It was a thoroughly disagreeable March morning. The wind blew in sharp +gusts from every quarter of the compass by turns. It seemed to take +especial delight in rushing suddenly around corners and taking away +the breath of anybody it could catch there coming from the opposite +direction. The dust, too, filled people's eyes and noses and mouths, +while the damp raw March air easily found its way through the best +clothing, and turned boys' skins into pimply goose-flesh. + +It was about as disagreeable a morning for going out as can be +imagined; and yet everybody in the little Western river town who could +get out went out and stayed out. + +Men and women, boys and girls, and even little children, ran to the +river-bank: and, once there, they stayed, with no thought, it seemed, +of going back to their homes or their work. + +The people of the town were wild with excitement, and everybody told +everybody else what had happened, although everybody knew all about +it already. Everybody, I mean, except Joe Lambert, and he had been so +busy ever since daylight, sawing wood in Squire Grisard's woodshed, +that he had neither seen nor heard anything at all. Joe was the +poorest person in the town. He was the only boy there who really had +no home and nobody to care for him. Three or four years before +this March morning, Joe had been left an orphan, and being utterly +destitute, he should have been sent to the poorhouse, or "bound out" +to some person as a sort of servant. But Joe Lambert had refused to go +to the poorhouse or to become a bound boy. He had declared his ability +to take care of himself, and by working hard at odd jobs, sawing +wood, rolling barrels on the wharf, picking apples or weeding onions +as opportunity offered, he had managed to support himself "after a +manner," as the village people said. That is to say, he generally got +enough to eat, and some clothes to wear. He slept in a warehouse shed, +the owner having given him leave to do so on condition that he would +act as a sort of watchman on the premises. + +Joe Lambert alone of all the villagers knew nothing of what had +happened; and of course Joe Lambert did not count for anything in the +estimation of people who had houses to live in. The only reason I have +gone out of the way to make an exception of so unimportant a person +is, that I think Joe did count for something on that particular March +day at least. + +When he finished the pile of wood that he had to saw, and went to the +house to get his money, he found nobody there. Going down the street +he found the town empty, and, looking down a cross street, he saw the +crowds that had gathered on the river-bank, thus learning at last that +something unusual had occurred. Of course he ran to the river to learn +what it was. + +When he got there he learned that Noah Martin the fisherman who was +also the ferryman between the village and its neighbor on the other +side of the river, had been drowned during the early morning in a +foolish attempt to row his ferry skiff across the stream. The ice +which had blocked the river for two months, had begun to move on the +day before, and Martin with his wife and baby--a child about a year +old--were on the other side of the river at the time. Early on that +morning there had been a temporary gorging of the ice about a mile +above the town, and, taking advantage of the comparatively free +channel, Martin had tried to cross with his wife and child, in his +boat. + +The gorge had broken up almost immediately, as the river was rising +rapidly, and Martin's boat had been caught and crushed in the ice. +Martin had been drowned, but his wife, with her child in her arms, had +clung to the wreck of the skiff, and had been carried by the current +to a little low-lying island just in front of the town. + +What had happened was of less importance, however, than what people +saw must happen. The poor woman and baby out there on the island, +drenched as they had been in the icy water, must soon die with cold, +and, moreover, the island was now nearly under water, while the great +stream was rising rapidly. It was evident that within an hour or two +the water would sweep over the whole surface of the island, and the +great fields of ice would of course carry the woman and child to a +terrible death. + +Many wild suggestions were made for their rescue, but none that gave +the least hope of success. It was simply impossible to launch a boat. +The vast fields of ice, two or three feet in thickness, and from +twenty feet to a hundred yards in breadth, were crushing and grinding +down the river at the rate of four or five miles an hour, turning and +twisting about, sometimes jamming their edges together with so great +a force that one would lap over another, and sometimes drifting apart +and leaving wide open spaces between for a moment or two. One might as +well go upon such a river in an egg shell as in the stoutest row-boat +ever built. + +The poor woman with her babe could be seen from the shore, standing +there alone on the rapidly narrowing strip of island. Her voice could +not reach the people on the bank, but when she held her poor little +baby toward them in mute appeal for help, the mothers there understood +her agony. + +There was nothing to be done, however. Human sympathy was given +freely, but human help was out of the question. Everybody on the +river-shore was agreed in that opinion. Everybody, that is to say, +except Joe Lambert. He had been so long in the habit of finding ways +to help himself under difficulties, that he did not easily make up his +mind to think any case hopeless. + +No sooner did Joe clearly understand how matters stood than he ran +away from the crowd, nobody paying any attention to what he did. Half +an hour later somebody cried out: "Look there! Who's that, and what's +he going to do?" pointing up the stream. + +Looking in that direction, the people saw some one three quarters of +a mile away standing on a floating field of ice in the river. He had +a large farm-basket strapped upon his shoulders, while in his hands he +held a plank. + +As the ice-field upon which he stood neared another, the youth ran +forward, threw his plank down, making a bridge of it, and crossed to +the farther field. Then picking up his plank, he waited for a chance +to repeat the process. + +As he thus drifted down the river, every eye was strained in his +direction. Presently some one cried out: "It's Joe Lambert; and he's +trying to cross to the island!" + +There was a shout as the people understood the nature of Joe's heroic +attempt, and then a hush as its extreme danger became apparent. + +Joe had laid his plans wisely and well, but it seemed impossible that +he could succeed. His purpose was, with the aid of the plank to cross +from one ice-field to another until he should reach the island; but +as that would require a good deal of time, and the ice was moving down +stream pretty rapidly, it was necessary to start at a point above the +town. Joe had gone about a mile up the river before going on the ice, +and when first seen from the town he had already reached the channel. + +After that first shout a whisper might have been heard in the crowd on +the bank. The heroism of the poor boy's attempt awed the spectators, +and the momentary expectation that he would disappear forever amid +the crushing ice-fields, made them hold their breath in anxiety and +terror. + +His greatest danger was from the smaller cakes of ice. When it became +necessary for him to step upon one of these, his weight was sufficient +to make it tilt, and his footing was very insecure. After awhile as +he was nearing the island, he came into a large collection of these +smaller ice-cakes. For awhile he waited, hoping that a larger field +would drift near him; but after a minute's delay he saw that he +was rapidly floating past the island, and that he must either trust +himself to the treacherous broken ice, or fail in his attempt to save +the woman and child. + +[Illustration: Joe Saves Mrs. Martin and Baby Martin.] + +Choosing the best of the floes, he laid his plank and passed across +successfully. In the next passage, however, the cake tilted up, and +Joe Lambert went down into the water! A shudder passed through the +crowd on shore. + +"Poor fellow!" exclaimed some tender-hearted spectator; "it is all +over with him now." + +"No; look, look!" shouted another. "He's trying to climb upon the +ice. Hurrah! he's on his feet again!" With that the whole company of +spectators shouted for joy. + +Joe had managed to regain his plank as well as to climb upon a cake +of ice before the fields around could crush him, and now moving +cautiously, he made his way, little by little toward the island. + +"Hurrah! Hurrah! he's there at last!" shouted the people on the shore. + +"But will he get back again?" was the question each one asked himself +a moment later. + +Having reached the island, Joe very well knew that the more difficult +part of his task was still before him, for it was one thing for an +active boy to work his way over floating ice, and quite another to +carry a child and lead a woman upon a similar journey. + +But Joe Lambert was quick-witted and "long-headed," as well as brave, +and he meant to do all that he could to save these poor creatures for +whom he had risked his life so heroically. Taking out his knife he +made the woman cut her skirts off at the knees, so that she might walk +and leap more freely. Then placing the baby in the basket which was +strapped upon his back, he cautioned the woman against giving way to +fright, and instructed her carefully about the method of crossing. + +On the return journey Joe was able to avoid one great risk. As it +was not necessary to land at any particular point, time was of little +consequence, and hence when no large field of ice was at hand, he +could wait for one to approach, without attempting to make use of the +smaller ones. Leading the woman wherever that was necessary, he slowly +made his way toward shore, drifting down the river, of course, while +all the people of the town marched along the bank. + +When at last Joe leaped ashore in company with the woman, and bearing +her babe in the basket on his back, the people seemed ready to trample +upon each other in their eagerness to shake hands with their hero. + +Their hero was barely able to stand, however. Drenched as he had been +in the icy river, the sharp March wind had chilled him to the marrow, +and one of the village doctors speedily lifted him into his carriage +which he had brought for that purpose, and drove rapidly away, while +the other physician took charge of Mrs. Martin and the baby. + +Joe was a strong, healthy fellow, and under the doctor's treatment of +hot brandy and vigorous rubbing with coarse towels, he soon warmed. +Then he wanted to saw enough wood for the doctor to pay for his +treatment, and thereupon the doctor threatened to poison him if he +should ever venture to mention pay to him again. + +Naturally enough the village people talked of nothing but Joe +Lambert's heroic deed, and the feeling was general that they had never +done their duty toward the poor orphan boy. There was an eager wish to +help him now, and many offers were made to him; but these all took the +form of charity, and Joe would not accept charity at all. Four years +earlier, as I have already said, he had refused to go to the poorhouse +or to be "bound out," declaring that he could take care of himself; +and when some thoughtless person had said in his hearing that he would +have to live on charity, Joe's reply had been: + +"I'll never eat a mouthful in this town that I haven't worked for if +I starve." And he had kept his word. Now that he was fifteen years old +he was not willing to begin receiving charity even in the form of a +reward for his good deed. + +One day when some of the most prominent men of the village were +talking to him on the subject Joe said: + +"I don't want anything except a chance to work, but I'll tell you what +you may do for me if you will. Now that poor Martin is dead the ferry +privilege will be to lease again, I'd like to get it for a good long +term. Maybe I can make something out of it by being always ready to +row people across, and I may even be able to put on something better +than a skiff after awhile. I'll pay the village what Martin paid." + +The gentlemen were glad enough of a chance to do Joe even this small +favor, and there was no difficulty in the way. The authorities gladly +granted Joe a lease of the ferry privilege for twenty years, at twenty +dollars a year rent, which was the rate Martin had paid. + +At first Joe rowed people back and forth, saving what money he got +very carefully. This was all that could be required of him, but it +occurred to Joe that if he had a ferry boat big enough, a good many +horses and cattle and a good deal of freight would be sent across the +river, for he was a "long-headed" fellow as I have said. + +One day a chance offered, and he bought for twenty-five dollars a +large old wood boat, which was simply a square barge forty feet long +and fifteen feet wide, with bevelled bow and stern, made to hold cord +wood for the steamboats. With his own hands he laid a stout deck +on this, and, with the assistance of a man whom he hired for that +purpose, he constructed a pair of paddle wheels. By that time Joe was +out of money, and work on the boat was suspended for awhile. When +he had accumulated a little more money, he bought a horse power, and +placed it in the middle of his boat, connecting it with the shaft of +his wheels. Then he made a rudder and helm, and his horse-boat was +ready for use. It had cost him about a hundred dollars besides his own +labor upon it, but it would carry live stock and freight as well as +passengers, and so the business of the ferry rapidly increased, and +Joe began to put a little money away in the bank. + +After awhile a railroad was built into the village, and then a second +one came. A year later another railroad was opened on the other side +of the river, and all the passengers who came to one village by rail +had to be ferried across the river in order to continue their journey +by the railroads there. The horse-boat was too small and too slow for +the business, and Joe Lambert had to buy two steam ferry-boats to take +its place. These cost more money than he had, but, as the owner of +the ferry privilege, his credit was good, and the boats soon paid for +themselves, while Joe's bank account grew again. + +Finally the railroad people determined to run through cars for +passengers and freight, and to carry them across the river on large +boats built for that purpose; but before they gave their orders +to their boat builders, they were waited upon by the attorneys of +Joe Lambert, who soon convinced them that his ferry privilege gave +him alone the right to run any kind of ferry-boats between the two +villages which had now grown to such size that they called themselves +cities. The result was that the railroads made a contract with Joe to +carry their cars across, and he had some large boats built for that +purpose. + +All this occurred a good many years ago, and Joe Lambert is not called +Joe now, but Captain Lambert. He is one of the most prosperous men in +the little river city, and owns many large river steamers besides his +ferry-boats. Nobody is readier than he to help a poor boy or a poor +man; but he has his own way of doing it. He will never toss so much as +a cent to a beggar, but he never refuses to give man or boy a chance +to earn money by work. He has an odd theory that money which comes +without work does more harm than good. + +GEORGE CARY EGGLESTON. + + + + +THE CHRISTMAS GIFT. + + + O you dear little dog, all eyes and fluff! + How can I ever love you enough? + How was it, I wonder, that any one knew + I wanted a little dog, just like you? + With your jet black nose, and each sharp-cut ear, + And the tail you wag--O you _are_ so dear! + Did you come trotting through all the snow + To find my door, I should like to know? + Or did you ride with the fairy team + Of Santa Claus, of which children dream, + Tucked all up in the furs so warm, + Driving like mad over village and farm, + O'er the country drear, o'er the city towers, + Until you stopped at this house of ours? + Did you think 'twas a little girl like me + You were coming so fast thro' the snow to see? + Well, whatever way you happened here, + You are my pet and my treasure dear-- + _Such_ a Christmas present! O such a joy! + Better than any kind of a toy! + Something that eats and drinks and walks, + And looks so lovely and _almost_ talks; + With a face so comical and wise, + And such a pair of bright brown eyes! + I'll tell you something: The other day + I heard papa to my mamma say + Very softly, "I really fear + Our baby may be quite spoiled, my dear, + We've made of our darling such a pet, + I think the little one may forget + There's any creature beneath the sun + Beside herself to waste thought upon." + I'm going to show him what I can do + For a dumb little helpless thing like you. + I'll not be selfish and slight you, dear; + Whenever I can I shall keep you near. + +CELIA THAXTER. + + + + +SOME EDUCATED HORSES. + + +[Illustration: A NOD OF GREETING.] + +One of the most pleasing of modern English authors, Philip Gilbert +Hamerton, who is an artist as well as writer, and who loves animals +almost as he does art, says that it would be interesting for a man to +live permanently in a large hall into which three or four horses, of a +race already intelligent, should be allowed to go and come freely from +the time they were born, just as dogs do in a family where they are +pets, or something to that effect. They should have full liberty to +poke their noses in their master's face, or lay their heads on his +shoulder at meal-time, receiving their treat of lettuce or sugar or +bread, only they must understand that they would be punished if they +knocked off the vases or upset furniture, or did other mischief. He +would like to see this tried, and see what would come of it; what +intelligence a horse would develop, and what love. + +The plan looks quixotic, does it not? But one thing you may be sure +of; he might have worse associates. There are grades of intellect--we +will call it intellect, for it comes very near, _so_ near that we +never can know just where the fine shading off begins between a +horse's brain and that of a man; and there are warm, loving equine +hearts. Many horses are superior to many men; nobler, more honorable, +quicker-witted, more loyal, and a thousand times more companionable. +Would you not rather, if you had to live on Robinson Crusoe's island, +have an intelligent, sympathetic horse and a devoted bright dog than +some people you know? One is inclined to favor Hamerton's notion after +seeing the Bartholomew Educated Horses, who can do almost anything but +speak. + +[Illustration: BUCEPHALUS TAKES THE HAT.] + +I am writing this for boys and girls who love animals, and for those +elderly people who are fond of them too, including the lady whom I +overheard saying that she had been nine times to see the remarkable +exhibition. The young folks were enthusiastic patrons of that little +theatre in Boston, where for more than a hundred afternoons and +evenings the "Professor," as he was called, showed off his four-footed +pupils. One forenoon he set apart for a free entertainment of as many +poor children as the house would hold, who went under the charge of +the truant officers and had an overwhelming good time. + +There were sixteen of the animals, counting a donkey; grays, bays, +chestnut-colored beauties, and one who looked buff in the gaslight. In +recalling them, I cannot say that there was a white-footed one. What +consequence about white feet, you ask! Perhaps you know that they +make that of some account in the horse bazaars of the East. The Turks +say "two white fore feet are lucky; one white fore and hind foot are +unlucky;" and they have a rhyme that runs-- + + One white foot, buy a horse, + Two white feet, try a horse, + Three white feet, look well about him, + Four white feet, do without him. + +[Illustration: THE CHAIR IS BROUGHT.] + +They were all named. There was a Chevalier, a Prince, and a Pope; a +little pet, Miss Nellie, who looked as if she would be ready to drink +tea out of your saucer and kiss you after her fashion; Mustang, an +irrepressible and rude savage from the Rio Grande region; Brutus, +Cæsar, and Draco; a Broncho beauty; a Sprite; a stately stepping +Abdallah; Jim, who was a character; and a Bucephalus, after that +storied steed who would suffer no one to ride but his master, the +Great Alexander, but for him to mount, would kneel and wait. + +It is perhaps needless and an insult to their intelligence for me to +say that they all know their own names as well as you know yours. They +know, too, their numbers when they are acting as soldiers formed in +line waiting orders; the Professor passes along and checking them off +with his forefinger numbers them, then falling back, calls out for +certain ones to form into platoons, and they make no mistake. Their +ears are alert, their senses sharp, their memory good. "Number Two," +"Number Four," and so on, answer by advancing, as a soldier would +respond to the roll-call. + +They came around from the stable an hour before the performance and +went up the stairs by which the audience went; and a crowd used to +gather every afternoon and evening to see that remarkable and free +feat. + +[Illustration: PRINCE.] + +When the curtain rose there was to be seen a small stage carpeted +ankle deep with saw-dust, where Professor Bartholomew purposed to have +his horses act; first the part of a school, then of a court room, last +a military drill and taking of a fort. They came in one after another, +pretending, if that is not too strong a word, that they were on the +way to school, and that was the playground; and there they played +together, with such soft, graceful action, such caressing ways, and +trippings as dainty as in "Pinafore," until at the ringing of a bell +they came at once to order from their mixed-up, mazy pastime, and +waited the arrival of their teacher, the Professor, who entered with a +schoolmaster air, and gave the order. + +"Bucephalus, take my hat, and bring me a chair!" as you might tell +James or John to do the same, and with more promptness than they would +have shown, Bucephalus came forward, took the hat between his teeth, +carried it across the stage and placed it on a desk, and brought a +chair. + +[Illustration: SPRITE AS A MATHEMATICIAN.] + +The master, seating himself, began the business of the day, saying, +"The school will now form two classes; the large scholars will go to +the left, the small ones to the right;" and six magnificent creatures +separated themselves from the group huddled together and went as they +were bid, while Nellie, the mustang, and other little ones, filed off +to the opposite side, and placed themselves in a row, with their heads +turned away from the stage. And there they remained, generally minding +their business, though sometimes one would get out of position, look +around, or give his neighbor a nudge which brought out a reprimand: +"Pope, what are you doing?" "Brutus, you need not look around to see +what I am about!" "Sprite, you let Mustang alone!" "Mustang, keep in +your place!" + +He then called for some one to come forward and be monitor, and Prince +volunteered, was sent to the desk for some papers, tried to raise the +lid, and let it drop, pretending that he couldn't, but after being +sharply asked what he was so careless for, did it, and then brought a +handkerchief and made a great ado about wanting to have something done +with it, which proved to be tying it around his leg. Meanwhile one +of the horses behaved badly, whereupon the teacher said, "I see you +are booked for a whipping," and the culprit came out in the floor, +straightened himself, and received without wincing what seemed to be +a severe whipping; but in reality it was all done with a soft cotton +snapper, which made more sound than anything else. + +[Illustration: ABDALLAH PACES.] + +Mustang was called upon to ring the bell, a good-sized dinner-bell, +for the blackboard exercises by Sprite. He, too, made believe he +couldn't, seized it the wrong way, dropped it, picked it up wrong end +first, was scolded at, then took it by the handle, gave it a vigorous +shake, and after letting it fall several times, set it on the table. +Meanwhile a platform was brought in supporting a tall post, at the +top of which, higher than a horse could reach, was a blackboard having +chalked on it a sum which was not added up correctly. Sprite, being +requested to wipe it out, took the sponge from the table, and planting +her fore-feet on the platform, stretched her head up, and by desperate +passes succeeded in wiping out a part of the figures, and started to +leave, but seeing that some remained, went back and erased them. + +One day she went through a process which showed conclusively that +horses can reason. She dropped the sponge the first thing, and it fell +down behind the platform out of her sight. She got down, and looked +about in the saw-dust for it, the audience curiously watching to see +what she would do next. She was evidently much perplexed. She knew +perfectly well that her duty would not be fulfilled until she had +rubbed the figures out, and the sponge was not to be found. Mr. +Bartholomew said nothing, gave her no look or hint or sign to help her +out of her predicament, but sat in his chair and waited. At last she +deliberately stepped on the platform again, stretched her head up and +wiped the figures out with her mouth, at which the audience applauded +as if they would bring the roof down. That was something clearly not +in the programme, but a bit of independent reasoning. Yet, having +done so much, she knew that something was not right. About that +sponge--what had become of it? It was her business to lay it on the +table when she was through using it. She hesitated, looked this way +and that, started to go, came back, dreadfully puzzled and uncertain, +suddenly spied it, set her teeth in it, put it on the table, and +went to her place, with a clear conscience, no doubt, and the people +cheered more wildly than before. + +[Illustration: A GAME OF LEAP-FROG.] + +This was to me one of the most interesting things I witnessed; and +connecting it with some facts Mr. Bartholomew communicated, it was +doubly so. + +[Illustration: NELLIE ROLLS THE BARREL OVER THE "TETER."] + +He said that it was his practice not to interfere or help; the horse +knew just what she was to do, and he preferred to wait and let her +think it out for herself. The other horses all knew too if there was +any failure or mistake, and the offender was closely watched by them, +and in some way reproved by them if they could get the opportunity, +and at times this little by-play became very amusing. + +After this was most exquisite dancing by Bucephalus, and by Cæsar, +whose steppings were in perfect rhythm to the music. Then the latter +turned in a circle to the right or the left and walked around defining +the figure eight, just as any one in the audience chose to request; +and Abdallah came in with a string of bells around her, and paced, +cantered, galloped, trotted, marched or walked as the word was given. +The horses were generally expected to come to the footlights and +bow to the audience at the close of any feat; occasionally one would +forget to do this, and then some of his comrades would shoulder or +buffet him, or Mr. Bartholomew would give a reminder, "That is not +all, is it?" and back would come the delinquent, and bow and bow +twenty times as fast as he could, as if there could not be enough of +it. At the close of one scene all the horses came up to the front in a +line, and leaning over the rope which was stretched there to keep them +from coming down on the people's heads, would bow, and bow again, and +it was a wonderfully pretty sight to see. + +A game of leap frog was announced. "There are four of the horses that +jump," said Mr. Bartholomew. They like this least of any of their +feats, and those who can do it best are most timid. At first one horse +is jumped over, then two, three, are packed closely together, and +little Sprite clears them all at one flying leap, broad-backed and +much taller than herself though they are. Those who do not want to +try it beg off by a pretty pantomime, and Sprite is encouraged by her +master, who pats her first and seems to be saying something in her +ear. They like to get approval in the way of a caress, but beyond that +they are in no way rewarded. + +[Illustration: PRINCE AND POPE PLAY AT SEE-SAW.] + +Next Nellie rolled a barrel over a "teter plank" with her fore-feet, +and Prince and Pope performed the difficult feat, and one which +required mutual understanding and confidence, of see-sawing away up +in air on the plank; first face to face, carefully balancing, and then +the latter slowly turned on the space less than twenty inches wide, +without disturbing the delicate poise. This he considers one of the +most remarkable, because each horse must act with reference to the +other, and the understanding between them must be so perfect that no +fatal false movement can be made. + +One of the grand tableaux represents a court scene with the donkey +set up in a high place for judge, the jury passing around from mouth +to mouth a placard labelled "Not Guilty," and the releasing of the +prisoner from his chain. But the military drill exceeds all else by +the brilliance of the display and the inspiring movements and martial +air. Mr. Bartholomew in military uniform advancing like a general, +disciplined twelve horses who came in at bugle call, with a crimson +band about their bodies and other decorations, and went through +evolutions, marchings, counter-marchings, in single file, by twos, in +platoons, forming a hollow square with the precision of old soldiers. +They liked it too, and were proud of themselves as they stepped to the +music. The final act was a furious charge on a fort, the horses firing +cannon, till in smoke and flame, to the sound of patriotic strains, +the structure was demolished, the country's flag was saved, caught up +by one horse, seized by another, waved, passed around, and amidst the +excitement and confusion of a great victory, triumphant horses rushing +about, the curtain fell. + +[Illustration: THE GREAT COURT SCENE.] + +It was from first to last a wonderful exhibition of horse +intelligence. + +Trained horses, that is, trained for circus feats at given signals, +are no novelty. Away back in the reign of one of the Stuarts, a horse +named Morocco was exhibited in England, though his tricks were only as +the alphabet to what is done now. And long before Rarey's day, there +was here and there a man who had a sort of magnetic influence, and +could tame a vicious horse whom nobody else dared go near. When George +the Fourth was Prince of Wales, he had a valuable Egyptian horse who +would throw, they said, the best rider in the world. Even if a man +could succeed in getting on his back, it was not an instant he could +stay there. But there came to England on a visit a distinguished +Eastern bey, with his mamelukes, who, hearing of the matter which +was the talk of the town, declared that the animal should be ridden. +Accordingly many royal personages and noblemen met the Orientals at +the riding house of the Prince, in Pall Mall, a mameluke's saddle was +put on the vicious creature, who was led in, looking in a white heat +of fury, wicked, with danger in his eyes, when, behold, the bey's +chief officer sprung on his back and rode for half an hour as easily +as a lady would amble on the most spiritless pony that ever was +bridled. + +[Illustration: STRETCHING HIMSELF.] + +Some men have a tact, a way with animals, and can do anything with +them. It is a born gift, a rare one, and a precious one. There was a +certain tamer of lions and tigers, Henri Marten by name, who lately +died at the age of ninety, who tamed by his personal influence alone. +It was said of him in France, that at the head of an army he "might +have been a Bonaparte. Chance has made a man of genius a director of a +menagerie." + +Professor Bartholomew was ready to talk about his way, but a part of +it is the man himself. He could not make known to another what is the +most essential requisite. He, too, brought genius to his work; besides +that, a certain indefinable mastership which animals recognize, love +for them, and a vast amount of perseverance and patient waiting. It is +a thing that is not done in a day. + +He was fond of horses from a boy, and began early to educate one, +having a remarkable faculty for handling them; so that now, after +thirty years of it, there is not much about the equine nature that +he does not understand. He trained a company of Bronchos, which were +afterwards sold; and since then he has gradually got together the +fifteen he now exhibits, and he has others in process of training. He +took these when they were young, two or three years old; and not one +of them, except Jim, who has a bit of outside history, has ever been +used in any other way. They know nothing about carriages or carts, +harness or saddle; they have escaped the cruel curb-bits, the check +reins and blinders of our civilization. Fortunate in that respect. And +they never have had a shoe on their feet. Their feet are perfect, firm +and sound, strong and healthy and elastic; natural, like those of the +Indians, who run barefoot, who go over the rough places of the wilds +as easily as these horses can run up the stairs or over the cobble +stones of the pavement if they were turned loose in the street. + +[Illustration: MILITARY DRILL.] + +It was a pleasure to know of their life-long exemption from all +such restraints. That accounted in great measure for their beautiful +freedom of motion, for that wondrous grace and charm. Did you ever +think what a complexity of muscles, bones, joints, tendons and other +arrangements, enter into the formation of the knees, hoofs, legs of a +horse; what a piece of mechanism the strong, supple creature is? + +These have never had their spirits broken; have never been scolded at +or struck except when a whip was necessary as a rod sometimes is for +a child. The hostlers who take care of them are not allowed to speak +roughly. "Be low-spoken to them," the master says. In the years when +he was educating them he groomed and cared for them himself, with no +other help except that of his two little sons. No one else was allowed +to meddle with them; and, necessarily, they were kept separate from +other horses. Now, wherever they are exhibiting, he always goes out +the first thing in the morning to see them. He passes from one to +another, and they are all expecting the little love pats and slaps +on their glossy sides, the caressings and fondlings and pleasant +greetings of "Chevalier, how are you, old fellow?" "Abdallah, +my beauty," and, "Nellie, my pet!" Some are jealous, Abdallah +tremendously so, and if he does not at once notice her, she lays her +ears back, shows temper, and crowds up to him, determined that no +other shall have precedence. + +[Illustration: A PRETTY TABLEAU.] + +They are not "thorough-breds." Those, he said, were for racers or +travellers; yet of fine breeds, some choice blood horses, some mixed, +one a mustang, who at first did not know anything that was wanted of +him. + +"Why," said he, "at first some of them would go up like pop corn, +higher than my head. But I never once have been injured by one of them +except perhaps an accidental stepping on my foot. They never kick; +they don't know how to kick. You can go behind them as well as before, +and anywhere." + +In buying he chose only those whose looks showed that they were +intelligent. "But how did he know, by what signs?" queried an +all-absorbed "Dumb Animals" woman. + +"Oh, dear," he said, "why, every way; the eyes, the ears, the whole +face, the expression, everything. No two horses' faces look alike. +Just as it is with a flock of sheep. A stranger would say, 'Why, they +are all sheep, and all alike, and that is all there is to it;' but the +owner knows better; he knows every face in the flock. He says, 'this +is Jenny, and that is Dolly, there is Jim, and here's Nancy.' Oh, +land, yes! they are no more alike than human beings are, disposition +or anything. Some have to be ordered, and some coaxed and flattered. +Yes, flattered. Now if two men come and want to work for me, I can +tell as soon as I cast my eyes on them. I say to one, 'Go and do such +a thing;' but if I said it to the other, he'd answer 'I won't; I'm not +going to be ordered about by any man.' Horses are just like that. A +horse can read you. If you get mad, he will. If you abuse him, he will +do the same by you, or try to. You must control yourself, if you would +control a horse." + +They must be of superior grade, "for it's of no use to spend one's +time on a dull one. It does not pay to teach idiots where you want +brilliant results, though all well enough for a certain purpose." + +Some of these he had been five years in educating to do what we saw. +Some he had taught to do their special part in one year, some in two. +The first thing he did was to give the horse opportunity and time to +get well acquainted with him; in his words, "to become friends. Let +him see that you are his friend, that you are not going to whip him. +You meet him cordially. You are glad to see him and be with him, and +pretty soon he knows it and likes to be with you. And so you establish +comradeship, you understand each other. Caress him softly. Don't make +a dash at him. Say pleasant things to him. Be gentle; but at the same +time you must be _master_." That is a good basis. And then he teaches +one thing at a time, a simple thing, and waits a good while before +he brings forward another; does not perplex or puzzle the pupil by +anything else till that is learned, and some of the first words are +"come," "stand," "remain." + +What a horse has once learned he never or seldom forgets. Mr. +Bartholomew thinks it is not as has sometimes been said, because a +horse has a memory stronger than a man, "but because he has fewer +things to learn. A man sees a million things. A horse's mind cannot +accommodate what a man's can, so those things he knows have a better +chance. Those few things he fixes. His memory fastens on them. I once +had a pony I had trained, which was afterwards gone from me three +years. At the end of that time I was in California exhibiting, and saw +a boy on the pony. I tried to buy him, but the boy who had owned him +all that time, refused to part with him; however, I offered such a +price that I got him, and that same evening I took him into the tent +and thought I would see what he remembered. He went through all his +old tricks (besides a few I had myself forgotten) except one. He could +not manage walking on his hind feet the distance he used to. Another +time I had a trained horse stolen from me by the Indians, and he was +off in the wilds with them a year and a half. One day, in a little +village--that was in California too--I saw him and knew him, and the +horse knew me. I went up to the Indian who had him and said, 'That is +my horse, and I can prove it.' Out there a stolen horse, no matter how +many times he has changed hands, is given up, if the owner can prove +it. The Indian said, 'If you can, you shall have him, but you won't +do it.' I said, 'I will try him in four things; I will ask him to trot +three times around a circle, to lie down, to sit up, and to bring me +my handkerchief. If he is my horse, he will do it.' The Indian said, +'You shall have him if he does, but he won't!' By this time a crowd +had got together. We put the horse in an enclosure, he did as he was +told, and I had him back." + +Mr. Bartholomew said, "My motto in educating them is, 'Make haste +slowly;' I never require too much, and I never ask a horse to do what +he _can't_ do. That is of no use. A horse _can't_ learn what horses +are not capable of learning; and he can't do a thing until he +understands what you mean, and how you want it done. What good would +it do for me to ask a man a question in French if he did not know a +word of the language? I get him used to the word, and show him what +I want. If it is to climb up somewhere, I gently put his foot up and +have him keep it there until I am ready to have it come down, and +then I take it down myself. I never let the horse do it. The same with +other things, showing him how, and by words. They know a great number +of words. My horses are not influenced by signs or motions when they +are on the stage. They use their intelligence and memory, and they +associate ideas and are required to obey. They learn a great deal by +observing one another. One watches and learns by seeing the others. +I taught one horse to kneel, by first bending his knee myself, and +putting him into position. After he had learned, I took another in +who kept watch all the time, and learned partly by imitation. They are +social creatures; they love each other's company." + +Most of these horses have been together now for several years, and +are fond of one another. They appear to keep the run of the whole +performance, and listen and notice like children in a school when +one or more of their number goes out to recite. It was extremely +interesting to observe them when the leap-frog game was going on. +Owing to the smallness of the stage, it was difficult for the horse +who was to make the jump to get under headway, and several times +poor Sprite, or whichever it was, would turn abruptly to make another +start, upon which every horse on her side would dart out for a chance +at giving her a nip as she went by. They all seemed throughout the +entire exhibition to feel a sort of responsibility, or at least a +pride in it, as if "this is _our_ school. See how well Bucephalus +minds, or how badly Brutus behaves! This is _our_ regiment. Don't +we march well? How fine and grand, how gallant and gay we are!" And +the wonder of it all is, not so much what any one horse can do, or +the sense of humor they show, or the great number of words they +understand, but the mental processes and nice calculation they show +in the feats where they are associated in complex ways, which require +that each must act his part independently and mind nothing about it if +another happens to make a mistake. + +[Illustration: VICTORY.] + +To obtain any adequate representation of these horses while +performing, it was necessary that it be done by process called +instantaneous photographing. You are aware that birds and insects are +taken by means of an instrument named the "photographic revolver," +which is aimed at them. Recently an American, Mr. Muybridge, has been +able to photograph horses while galloping or trotting, by his "battery +of cameras," and a book on "the Horse in Motion" has for its subject +this instantaneous catching a likeness as applied to animals. But how +could any process, however swift, or ingenious, or admirable, do full +justice to the grace and spirit, the all-alive attitudes and varieties +of posture, the dalliance and charm, the freedom in action? + +[Illustration: THE STORMING OF THE FORT.] + +Professor Bartholomew gave his performances the name of "The Equine +Paradox." He now has his beautiful animals in delightful summer +quarters at Newport, where they are counted among the "notable +guests." He has the Opera House there for his training school for +three months, preparing new ones for next winter's exhibition, and +keeping the old ones in practice. It is pleasant to know that he cares +so faithfully for their health as to give them a home through the warm +weather in that cool retreat by the sea. + +[Illustration: AFTER THE PLAY.] + + + + +QUESTIONS. + + + Can you put the spider's web back in its place, that once has been + swept away? + Can you put the apple again on the bough, which fell at our feet + to-day? + Can you put the lily-cup back on the stem, and cause it to live + and grow? + Can you mend the butterfly's broken wing, that you crushed with a + hasty blow? + Can you put the bloom again on the grape, or the grape again on + the vine? + Can you put the dewdrops back on the flowers, and make them + sparkle and shine? + Can you put the petals back on the rose? If you could, would it + smell as sweet? + Can you put the flour again in the husk, and show me the ripened + wheat? + Can you put the kernel back in the nut, or the broken egg in its + shell? + Can you put the honey back in the comb, and cover with wax each + cell? + Can you put the perfume back in the vase, when once it has sped + away? + Can you put the corn-silk back on the corn, or the down on the + catkins--say? + You think that my questions are trifling, dear? Let me ask you + another one: + Can a hasty word ever be unsaid, or a deed unkind, undone? + +KATE LAWRENCE. + + + + +THE BRAVEST BOY IN TOWN. + + + He lived in the Cumberland Valley, + And his name was Jamie Brown; + But it changed one day, so the neighbors say, + To the "Bravest Boy in Town." + + 'Twas the time when the Southern soldiers, + Under Early's mad command, + O'er the border made their dashing raid + From the north of Maryland. + + And Chambersburg unransomed + In smouldering ruins slept, + While up the vale, like a fiery gale, + The Rebel raiders swept. + + And a squad of gray-clad horsemen + Came thundering o'er the bridge, + Where peaceful cows in the meadows browse, + At the feet of the great Blue Ridge; + + And on till they reached the village, + That fair in the valley lay, + Defenseless then, for its loyal men, + At the front, were far away. + + "Pillage and spoil and plunder!" + This was the fearful word + That the Widow Brown, in gazing down + From her latticed window, heard. + + 'Neath the boughs of the sheltering oak-tree, + The leader bared his head, + As left and right, until out of sight, + His dusty gray-coats sped. + + Then he called: "Halloo! within there!" + A gentle, fair-haired dame + Across the floor to the open door + In gracious answer came. + + "Here! stable my horse, you woman!"-- + The soldier's tones were rude-- + "Then bestir yourself and from yonder shelf + Set out your store of food!" + + For her guest she spread the table; + She motioned him to his place + With a gesture proud; then the widow bowed, + And gently--asked a grace. + + "If thine enemy hunger, feed him! + I obey, dear Christ!" she said; + A creeping blush, with its scarlet flush, + O'er the face of the soldier spread. + + He rose: "You have said it, madam! + Standing within your doors + Is the Rebel foe; but as forth they go + They shall trouble not you nor yours!" + + Alas, for the word of the leader! + Alas, for the soldier's vow! + When the captain's men rode down the glen, + They carried the widow's cow. + + It was then the fearless Jamie + Sprang up with flashing eyes, + And in spite of tears and his mother's fears, + On the gray mare, off he flies. + + Like a wild young Tam O'Shanter + He plunged with piercing whoop, + O'er field and brook till he overtook + The straggling Rebel troop. + + Laden with spoil and plunder, + And laughing and shouting still, + As with cattle and sheep they lazily creep + Through the dust o'er the winding hill. + + "Oh! the coward crowd!" cried Jamie; + "There's Brindle! I'll teach them now!" + And with headlong stride, at the captain's side, + He called for his mother's cow. + + "Who are _you_, and who is your mother?-- + I promised she should not miss?-- + Well! upon my word, have I never heard + Of assurance like to this!" + + "Is your word the word of a soldier?"-- + And the young lad faced his foes, + As a jeering laugh, in anger half + And half in sport, arose. + + But the captain drew his sabre, + And spoke, with lowering brow: + "Fall back into line! The joke is mine! + Surrender the widow's cow!" + + And a capital joke they thought it, + That a barefoot lad of ten + Should demand his due--and get it too-- + In the face of forty men. + + And the rollicking Rebel raiders + Forgot themselves somehow, + And three cheers brave for the hero gave, + And three for the brindle cow. + + He lived in the Cumberland Valley, + And his name _was_ Jamie Brown; + But it changed that day, so the neighbors say, + To the "Bravest Boy in Town." + +MRS. EMILY HUNTINGTON NASON. + + + + +THE WOLF AND THE GOSLINGS. + + An old gray goose walked forth with pride, + With goslings seven at her side; + A lovely yellowish-green they were, + And very dear to her. + + She led them to the river's brink + To paddle their feet awhile and drink, + And there she heard a tale that made + Her very soul afraid. + + A neighbor gabbled the story out, + How a wolf was known to be thereabout-- + A great wolf whom nothing could please + As well as little geese. + + So, when, as usual, to the wood + She went next day in search of food, + She warned them over and over, before + She turned to shut the door: + +[Illustration] + + "My little ones, if you hear a knock + At the door, be sure and not unlock, + For the wolf will eat you, if he gets in, + Feathers and bones and skin. + + "You will know him by his voice so hoarse, + By his paws so hairy and black and coarse." + And the goslings piped up, clear and shrill, + "We'll take great care, we will." + + The mother thought them wise and went + To the far-off forest quite content; + But she was scarcely away, before + There came a rap at the door. + + "Open, open, my children dear," + A gruff voice cried: "your mother is here." + But the young ones answered, "No, no, no, + Her voice is sweet and low; + + "And you are the wolf--so go away, + You can't get in, if you try all day." + He laughed to himself to hear them talk, + And wished he had some chalk, + + To smooth his voice to a tone like geese; + So he went to the merchant's and bought a piece, + And hurried back, and rapped once more. + "Open, open the door, + + "I am your mother, dears," he said. + But up on the window ledge he laid, + In a careless way, his great black paw, + And this the goslings saw. + + "No, no," they called, "that will not do, + Our mother has not black hands like you; + For you are the wolf, so go away, + You can't get in to-day." + + The baffled wolf to the old mill ran, + And whined to the busy miller man: + "I love to hear the sound of the wheel + And to smell the corn and meal." + + The miller was pleased, and said "All right; + Would you like your cap and jacket white?" + At that he opened a flour bin + And playfully dipped him in. + + He floundered and sneezed a while, then, lo, + He crept out white as a wolf of snow. + "If chalk and flour can make me sweet," + He said, "then I'm complete." + +[Illustration] + + For the third time back to the house he went, + And looked and spoke so different, + That when he rapped, and "Open!" cried, + The little ones replied, + + "If you show us nice clean feet, we will." + And straightway, there on the window-sill + His paws were laid, with dusty meal + Powdered from toe to heel. + +[Illustration] + + Yes, they were white! So they let him in, + And he gobbled them all up, feathers and skin! + Gobbled the whole, as if 'twere fun, + Except the littlest one. + + An old clock stood there, tick, tick, tick, + And into that he had hopped so quick + The wolf saw nothing, and fancied even + He'd eaten all the seven. + + But six were enough to satisfy; + So out he strolled on the grass to lie. + And when the gray goose presently + Came home--what did she see? + + Alas, the house door open wide, + But no little yellow flock inside; + The beds and pillows thrown about; + The fire all gone out; + + The chairs and tables overset; + The wash-tub spilled, and the floor all wet; + And here and there in cinders black, + The great wolf's ugly track. + + She called out tenderly every name, + But never a voice in answer came, + Till a little frightened, broad-billed face + Peered out of the clock-case. + + This gosling told his tale with grief, + And the gray goose sobbed in her handkerchief, + And sighed--"Ah, well, we will have to go + And let the neighbors know." + +[Illustration] + + So down they went to the river's brim, + Where their feathered friends were wont to swim, + And there on the turf so green and deep + The old wolf lay asleep. + + He had a grizzly, savage look, + And he snored till the boughs above him shook. + They tiptoed round him--drew quite near, + Yet still he did not hear. + + Then, as the mother gazed, to her + It seemed she could see his gaunt side stir-- + Stir and squirm, as if under the skin + Were something alive within! + + "Go back to the house, quick, dear," she said, + "And fetch me scissors and needle and thread. + I'll open his ugly hairy hide, + And see what is inside." + +[Illustration] + + She snipped with the scissors a criss-cross slit, + And well rewarded she was for it, + For there were her goslings--six together-- + With scarcely a rumpled feather. + + The wolf had eaten so greedily, + He had swallowed them all alive you see, + So, one by one, they scrambled out, + And danced and skipped about. + + Then the gray goose got six heavy stones, + And placed them in between the bones; + She sewed him deftly, with needle and thread, + And then with her goslings fled. + + The wolf slept long and hard and late, + And woke so thirsty he scarce could wait. + So he crept along to the river's brink + To get a good cool drink. + + But the stones inside began to shake, + And make his old ribs crack and ache; + And the gladsome flock, as they sped away, + Could hear him groan, and say:-- + + "What's this rumbling and tumbling? + What's this rattling like bones? + I thought I'd eaten six small geese, + But they've turned out only stones." + + He bent his neck to lap--instead, + He tumbled in, heels over head; + And so heavy he was, as he went down + He could not help but drown! + + And after that, in thankful pride, + With goslings seven at her side, + The gray goose came to the river's brink + Each day to swim and drink. + +AMANDA B. HARRIS. + +[Illustration] + + + + +THE BISHOP'S VISIT. + + + Tell you about it? Of course I will! + I thought 'twould be dreadful to have him come, + For mamma said I must be quiet and still, + And she put away my whistle and drum.-- + +[Illustration] + + And made me unharness the parlor chairs, + And packed my cannon and all the rest + Of my noisiest playthings off up-stairs, + On account of this very distinguished guest. + + Then every room was turned upside down, + And all the carpets hung out to blow; + For when the Bishop is coming to town + The house must be in order, you know. + + So out in the kitchen I made my lair, + And started a game of hide-and-seek; + But Bridget refused to have me there, + For the Bishop was coming--to stay a week-- + + And she must have cookies and cakes and pies, + And fill every closet and platter and pan, + Till I thought this Bishop, so great and wise, + Must be an awfully hungry man. + + Well! at last he came; and I do declare, + Dear grandpapa, he looked just like you, + With his gentle voice and his silvery hair, + And eyes with a smile a-shining through. + + And whenever he read or talked or prayed, + I understood every single word; + And I wasn't the leastest bit afraid, + Though I never once spoke or stirred; + + Till, all of a sudden, he laughed right out + To see me sit quietly listening so; + And began to tell us stories about + Some queer little fellows in Mexico. + + And all about Egypt and Spain--and then + He _wasn't_ disturbed by a little noise, + And said that the greatest and best of men + Once were rollicking, healthy boys. + + And he thinks it is no matter at all + If a little boy runs and jumps and climbs; + And mamma should be willing to let me crawl + Through the bannister-rails in the hall sometimes. + + And Bridget, sir, made a great mistake, + In stirring up such a bother, you see, + For the Bishop--he didn't care for cake, + And really liked to play games with me. + + But though he's so honored in word and act-- + (Stoop down, this is a secret now)-- + _He couldn't spell Boston!_ That's a fact! + But whispered to me to tell him how. + +MRS. EMMA HUNTINGTON NASON. + + + + +THE FIRST STEP. + + + To-night as the tender gloaming + Was sinking in evening's gloom, + And only the glow of the firelight + Brightened the dark'ning room, + I laughed with the gay heart-gladness + That only to mothers is known, + For the beautiful brown-eyed baby + Took his first step alone! + +[Illustration: Baby's First Step.] + + Hurriedly running to meet him + Came trooping the household band, + Joyous, loving and eager + To reach him a helping hand, + To watch him with silent rapture, + To cheer him with happy noise, + My one little fair-faced daughter + And four brown romping boys. + + Leaving the sheltering arms + That fain would bid him rest + Close to the love and the longing, + Near to the mother's breast; + Wild with laughter and daring, + Looking askance at me, + He stumbled across through the shadows + To rest at his father's knee. + + Baby, my dainty darling, + Stepping so brave and bright + With flutter of lace and ribbon + Out of my arms to-night, + Helped in thy pretty ambition + With tenderness blessed to see, + Sheltered, upheld, and protected-- + How will the last step be? + + See, we are all beside you + Urging and beckoning on, + Watching lest aught betide you + Till the safe near goal is won, + Guiding the faltering footsteps + That tremble and fear to fall-- + How will it be, my darling, + With the last sad step of all? + + Nay! Shall I dare to question, + Knowing that One more fond + Than all our tenderest loving + Will guide the weak feet beyond! + And knowing beside, my dearest, + That whenever the summons, 'twill be + But a stumbling step through the shadows, + Then rest--at the Father's knee! + +M.E.B. + + + + +BINGEN ON THE RHINE. + + + A Soldier of the Legion lay dying in Algiers, + There was lack of woman's nursing, there was dearth of woman's + tears; + But a comrade stood beside him while his life-blood ebbed away, + And bent with pitying glances to hear what he might say. + The dying soldier faltered, as he took that comrade's hand, + And he said, "I never more shall see my own, my native land; + Take a message, and a token to some distant friends of mine, + For I was born at Bingen, at Bingen on the Rhine. + + "Tell my brothers and companions when they meet and crowd around + To hear my mournful story, in the pleasant vineyard ground, + That we fought the battle bravely, and when the day was done, + Full many a corse lay ghastly pale beneath the setting sun; + And, 'mid the dead and dying, were some grown old in wars, + The death-wound on their gallant breasts, the last of many scars; + And some were young, and suddenly beheld life's morn decline, + And one had come from Bingen, fair Bingen on the Rhine. + + "Tell my mother that her other son shall comfort her old age; + For I was still a truant bird, that thought his home a cage. + For my father was a soldier, and even as a child + My heart leaped forth to hear him tell of struggles fierce and wild; + And when he died and left us to divide his scanty hoard + I let them take whate'er they would, but I kept my father's sword; + And with boyish love I hung it where the bright light used to shine + On the cottage wall at Bingen, calm Bingen on the Rhine. + + "Tell my sister not to weep for me, and sob with drooping head, + When the troops come marching home again with glad and gallant + tread, + But to look upon them proudly, with a calm and steadfast eye, + For her brother was a soldier, too, and not afraid to die; + And if a comrade seek her love, I ask her in my name, + To listen to him kindly, without regret or shame, + And to hang the old sword in its place, my father's sword and mine; + For the honor of old Bingen, dear Bingen on the Rhine. + + "There's another, not a sister, in the happy days gone by, + You'd have known her by the merriment that sparkled in her eye; + Too innocent for coquetry, too fond for idle scorning, + O, friend! I fear the lightest heart makes sometimes heaviest + mourning. + Tell her the last night of my life (for ere the moon be risen + My body will be out of pain, my soul be out of prison), + I dreamed I stood with her, and saw the yellow sunlight shine, + On the vine-clad hills of Bingen, fair Bingen on the Rhine. + +[Illustration] + + "I saw the blue Rhine sweep along; I heard, or seemed to hear, + The German songs we used to sing in chorus sweet and clear; + And down the pleasant river and up the slanting hill, + The echoing chorus sounded, through the evening calm and still; + And her glad blue eyes were on me, as we passed, with friendly talk + Down many a path beloved of yore, and well remembered walk, + And her little hand lay lightly, confidingly, in mine, + But we'll meet no more at Bingen, loved Bingen on the Rhine." + + His trembling voice grew faint and hoarse, his grasp was childish + weak, + His eyes put on a dying look, he sighed, and ceased to speak; + His comrade bent to lift him, but the spark of life had fled-- + The soldier of the Legion in a foreign land is dead; + And the soft moon rose up slowly, and calmly she looked down + On the red sand of the battle-field with bloody corses strewn; + Yet calmly on that dreadful scene her pale light seemed to shine, + As it shone on distant Bingen, fair Bingen on the Rhine. + +CAROLINE E.S. NORTON. + + + + +OSITO. + + +On the lofty mountain that faced the captain's cabin the frost had +already made an insidious approach, and the slender thickets of +quaking ash that marked the course of each tiny torrent, now stood +out in resplendent hues and shone afar off like gay ribbons running +through the dark-green pines. Gorgeously, too, with scarlet, crimson +and gold, gleamed the lower spurs, where the oak-brush grew in dense +masses and bore beneath a blaze of color, a goodly harvest of acorns, +now ripe and loosened in their cups. + +It was where one of these spurs joined the parent mountain, where the +oak-brush grew thickest, and, as a consequence, the acorns were most +abundant, that the captain, well versed in wood-craft mysteries, +had built his bear trap. For two days he had been engaged upon +it, and now, as the evening drew on, he sat contemplating it with +satisfaction, as a work finished and perfected. + +From his station there, on the breast of the lofty mountain, the +captain could scan many an acre of sombre pine forest with pleasant +little parks interspersed, and here and there long slopes brown with +bunch grass. He was the lord of this wild domain. And yet his sway +there was not undisputed. Behind an intervening spur to the westward +ran an old Indian trail long traveled by the Southern Utes in their +migrations north for trading and hunting purposes. And even now, a +light smoke wafted upward on the evening air, told of a band encamped +on the trail on their homeward journey to the Southwest. + +The captain needed not this visual token of their proximity. He +had been aware of it for several days. Their calls at his cabin in +the lonely little park below had been frequent, and they had been +specially solicitous of his coffee, his sugar, his biscuit and other +delicacies, insomuch that once or twice during his absence these +ingenuous children of Nature had with primitive simplicity, entered +his cabin and helped themselves without leave or stint. + +However, as he knew their stay would be short, the captain bore +these neighborly attentions with mild forbearance. It was guests more +graceless than these who had roused his wrath. + +From their secret haunts far back towards the Snowy Range the bears +had come down to feast upon the ripened acorns, and so doing, had +scented the captain's bacon and sugar afar off and had prowled by +night about the cabin. Nay, more, three days before, the captain, +having gone hurriedly away and left the door loosely fastened, upon +his return had found all in confusion. Many of his eatables had +vanished, his flour sack was ripped open, and, unkindest cut of all, +his beloved books lay scattered about. At the first indignant glance +the captain had cried out, "Utes again!" But on looking around he saw +a tell-tale trail left by floury bear paws. + +Hence this bear trap. + +It was but a strong log pen floored with rough-hewn slabs and fitted +with a ponderous movable lid made of other slabs pinned on stout cross +pieces. But, satisfied with his handiwork, the captain now arose, and, +prying up one end of the lid with a lever, set the trigger and baited +it with a huge piece of bacon. He then piled a great quantity of rock +upon the already heavy lid to further guard against the escape of any +bear so unfortunate as to enter, and shouldering his axe and rifle +walked homewards. + +Whatever vengeful visions of captive bears he was indulging in were, +however, wholly dispelled as he drew near the cabin. Before the +door stood the Ute chief accompanied by two squaws. "How!" said the +chieftain, with a conciliatory smile, laying one hand on his breast of +bronze and extending the other as the captain approached. + +"How!" returned the captain bluffly, disdaining the hand with a +recollection of sundry petty thefts. + +"Has the great captain seen a pappoose about his wigwam?" asked +the chief, nowise abashed, in Spanish--a language which many of the +Southern Utes speak as fluently as their own. + +The great captain had expected a request for a biscuit; he, therefore, +was naturally surprised at being asked for a baby. With an effort he +mustered together his Spanish phrases and managed to reply that he had +seen no pappoose. + +"Me pappoose lost," said one of the squaws brokenly. And there was so +much distress in her voice that the captain, forgetting instantly all +about the slight depredations of his dusky neighbors, volunteered to +aid them in their search for the missing child. + +All that night, for it was by this time nearly dark, the hills flared +with pine torches and resounded with the shrill cries of the squaws, +the whoops of the warriors, the shouts of the captain; but the search +was fruitless. + +This adventure drove the bear-trap from its builder's mind, and it +was two days before it occurred to him to go there in quest of captive +bears. + +Coming in view of it he immediately saw the lid was down. Hastily he +approached, bent over, and peeped in. And certainly, in the whole of +his adventurous life the captain was never more taken by surprise; for +there, crouched in one corner, was that precious Indian infant. + +Yes, true it was, that all those massive timbers, all that ponderous +mass of rock, had only availed to capture one very small Ute pappoose. +At the thought of it, the builder of the trap was astounded. He +laughed aloud at the absurdity. In silence he threw off the rock +and lid and seated himself on the edge of the open trap. Captor and +captive then gazed at each other with gravity. The errant infant's +attire consisted of a calico shirt of gaudy hues, a pair of little +moccasins, much frayed, and a red flannel string. This last was tied +about his straggling hair, which fell over his forehead like the +shaggy mane of a _bronco_ colt and veiled, but could not obscure, the +brightness of his black eyes. + +He did not cry; in fact, this small stoic never even whimpered, but he +held the bacon, or what remained of it, clasped tightly to his breast +and gazed at his captor in silence. Glancing at the bacon, the captain +saw it all. Hunger had induced this wee wanderer to enter the trap, +and in detaching the bait, he had sprung the trigger and was caught. + +"What are you called, little one?" asked the captain at length, in a +reassuring voice, speaking Spanish very slowly and distinctly. + +"Osito," replied the wanderer in a small piping voice, but with the +dignity of a warrior. + +"Little Bear!" the captain repeated, and burst into a hearty laugh, +immediately checked, however by the thought that now he had caught +him, what was he to do with him? The first thing, evidently, was to +feed him. + +So he conducted him to the cabin and there, observing the celerity +with which the lumps of sugar vanished, he saw at once that Little +Bear was most aptly named. Then, sometimes leading, and sometimes +carrying him, for Osito was very small, he set out for the Ute +encampment. + +Their approach was the signal for a mighty shout. Warriors, squaws and +the younger confrères of Osito, crowded about him. A few words from +the captain explained all, and Osito himself, clinging to his mother, +was borne away in triumph--the hero of the hour. Yet, no--the captain +was that, I believe. For as he stood in their midst with a very +pleased look on his sunburnt face, the chief quieting the hubbub with +a wave of his hand, advanced and stood before him. "The great captain +has a good heart," he said in tones of conviction. "What can his Ute +friends do to show their gratitude?" + +"Nothing," said the captain, looking more pleased than ever. + +"The captain has been troubled by the bears. Would it please him if +they were all driven back to their dens in the great mountains towards +the setting sun?" + +"It would," said the captain; "can it be done?" + +"It can. It shall," said the chief with emphasis. "To-morrow let the +_captain_ keep his eyes open, and as the sun sinks behind the mountain +tops he shall see the bears follow also." + +The chief kept his word. The next day the uproar on the hills was +terrific. Frightened out of their wits, the bears forsook the acorn +field and fled ingloriously to their secret haunts in the mountains to +the westward. + +[Illustration: "WHAT ARE YOU CALLED, LITTLE ONE?" ASKED THE CAPTAIN.] + +In joy thereof the captain gave a great farewell feast to his red +allies. It was spread under the pines in front of his cabin, and every +delicacy of the season was there, from bear steaks to beaver tails. +The banquet was drawing to a close, and complimentary speeches 'twixt +host and guests were in order, when a procession of the squaws was +seen approaching from the encampment. They drew near and headed for +the captain in solemn silence. As they passed, each laid some gift +at his feet--fringed leggings; beaded moccasins, bear skins, coyote +skins, beaver pelts and soft robes of the mountain lion's hide--until +the pile reached to the captain's shoulders. Last of all came Osito's +mother and crowned the heap with a beautiful little brown bear skin. +It was fancifully adorned with blue ribbons, and in the center of the +tanned side there were drawn, in red pigment, the outlines of a very +stolid and stoical-looking pappoose. + +F.L. STEALEY. + + + + +THE LITTLE LION-CHARMER. + + + Outside the little village of Katrine, + Just where the country ventures into town, + A circus pitched its tents, and on the green + The canvas pyramids were fastened down. + + The night was clear. The moon was climbing higher. + The show was over; crowds were coming out, + When, through the surging mass, the cry of "fire!" + Rose from a murmur to a wild, hoarse shout. + + "Fire! fire!" The crackling flames ran up the tent, + The shrieks of frightened women filled the air, + The cries of prisoned beasts weird horror lent + To the wild scene of uproar and despair. + + A lion's roar high over all the cries! + There is a crash--out into the night + The tawny creature leaps with glowing eyes, + Then stands defiant in the fierce red light. + + "The lion's loose! The lion! Fly for your lives!" + But deathlike silence falls upon them all, + So paralyzed with fear that no one strives + To make escape, to move, to call! + + "A weapon! Shoot him!" comes from far outside; + The shout wakes men again to conscious life; + But as the aim is taken, the ranks divide + To make a passage for the keeper's wife. + + Alone she came, a woman tall and fair, + And hurried on, and near the lion stood; + "Oh, do not fire!" she cried; "let no one dare + To shoot my lion--he is tame and good. + + "My son? my son?" she called; and to her ran + A little child, that scarce had seen nine years. + "Play! play!" she said. Quickly the boy began. + His little flute was heard by awe-struck ears. + + "Fetch me a cage," she cried. The men obeyed. + "Now go, my son, and bring the lion here." + Slowly the child advanced, and piped, and played, + While men and women held their breaths in fear. + + Sweetly he played, as though no horrid fate + Could ever harm his sunny little head. + He never paused, nor seemed to hesitate, + But went to do the thing his mother said. + + The lion hearkened to the sweet clear sound; + The anger vanished from his threatening eyes; + All motionless he crouched upon the ground + And listened to the silver melodies. + +[Illustration: The Little Lion Charmer.] + + The boy thus reached his side. The beast stirred not. + The child then backward walked, and played again, + Till, moving softly, slowly from the spot, + The lion followed the familiar strain. + + The cage is waiting--wide its opened door-- + And toward it, cautiously, the child retreats. + But see! The lion, restless grown once more, + Is lashing with his tail in angry beats. + + The boy, advancing, plays again the lay. + Again the beast, remembering the refrain, + Follows him on, until in this dread way + The cage is reached, and in it go the twain. + + At once the boy springs out, the door makes fast, + Then leaps with joy to reach his mother's side; + Her praise alone, of all that crowd so vast, + Has power to thrill his little heart with pride. + +HARRIET S. FLEMING. + + + + +THE BOY TO THE SCHOOLMASTER. + + + You've quizzed me often and puzzled me long, + You've asked me to cipher and spell, + You've called me a dunce if I answered wrong, + Or a dolt if I failed to tell + Just when to say _lie_ and when to say _lay_, + Or what nine sevens may make, + Or the longitude of Kamschatka Bay, + Or the I-forget-what's-its-name Lake, + So I think it's about _my_ turn, I do, + To ask a question or so of you. + + The schoolmaster grim, he opened his eyes, + But said not a word for sheer surprise. + + Can you tell what "phen-dubs" means? I can. + Can you say all off by heart + The "onery twoery ickery ann," + Or tell "alleys" and "commons" apart? + Can _you_ fling a top, I would like to know, + Till it hums like a bumble-bee? + Can you make a kite yourself that will go + 'Most as high as the eye can see, + Till it sails and soars like a hawk on the wing, + And the little birds come and light on its string? + + The schoolmaster looked oh! very demure, + But his mouth was twitching, I'm almost sure. + + Can you tell where the nest of the oriole swings, + Or the color its eggs may be? + Do you know the time when the squirrel brings + Its young from their nest in the tree? + Can you tell when the chestnuts are ready to drop + Or where the best hazel-nuts grow? + Can you climb a high tree to the very tip-top, + Then gaze without trembling below? + Can you swim and dive, can you jump and run, + Or do anything else we boys call fun? + + The master's voice trembled as he replied: + "You are right, my lad, I'm the dunce," he sighed. + +E.J. WHEELER. + +[Illustration: Little Mer-Folks.] + + + + +WON'T TAKE A BAFF. + + +[Illustration: ESCAPE.] + + To the brook in the green meadow dancing, + The tree-shaded, grass-bordered brook, + For a bath in its cool, limpid water, + Old Dinah the baby boy took. + + She drew off his cunning wee stockings, + Unbuttoned each dainty pink shoe, + Untied the white slip and small apron, + And loosened his petticoats, too. + + And while Master Blue Eyes undressing, + She told him in quaintest of words + Of the showers that came to the flowers, + Of the rills that were baths for the birds. + + And she said, "Dis yere sweetest of babies, + W'en he's washed, jess as hansum'll be + As any red, yaller or blue bird + Dat ebber singed up in a tree. + + "An' sweeter den rosies an' lilies, + Or wiolets eder, I guess--" + When away flew the mischievous darling, + In the scantiest kind of a dress. + + "Don't care if the birdies an' fowers," + He shouted, with clear, ringing laugh, + "Wash 'eir hands an' 'eir faces forebber + An' ebber, _me_ won't take a baff." + +MARGARET EYTINGE. + + + + +ONE WAY TO BE BRAVE. + +(_A TRUE STORY._) + + +"[[P]]apa," exclaimed six-year-old Marland, leaning against his +father's knee after listening to a true story, "I wish I could be as +brave as that!" + +"Perhaps you will be when you grow up." + +"But maybe I sha'n't ever be on a railroad train when there is going +to be an accident!" + +"Ah! but there are sure to be plenty of other ways for a brave man to +show himself." + +Several days after this, when Marland had quite forgotten about trying +to be brave, thinking, indeed, that he would have to wait anyway until +he was a man, he and his little playmate, Ada, a year younger, were +playing in the dog-kennel. It was a very large kennel, so that the two +children often crept into it to "play house." After awhile, Marland, +who, of course, was playing the papa of the house, was to go "down +town" to his business; he put his little head out of the door of the +kennel, and was just about to creep out, when right in front of him in +the path he saw a snake. He knew in a moment just what sort of a snake +it was, and how dangerous it was; he knew it was a rattlesnake, and +that if it bit Ada or him, they would probably die. For Marland had +spent two summers on his papa's big ranch in Kansas, and he had been +told over and over again, if he ever saw a snake to run away from it +as fast as he could, and this snake just in front of him was making +the queer little noise with the rattles at the end of his tail which +Marland had heard enough about to be able to recognize. + +[Illustration: THE LITTLE RANCHMAN. (From a photograph.)] + +Now you must know that a rattlesnake is not at all like a lion or a +bear, although just as dangerous in its own way. It will not chase +you; it can only spring a distance equal to its own length, and it +has to wait and coil itself up in a ring, sounding its warning all +the time, before it can strike at all. So if you are ever so little +distance from it when you see it first, you can easily escape from +it. The only danger is from stepping on it without seeing it. But +Marland's snake was already coiled, and it was hardly more than a foot +from the entrance to the kennel. You must know that the kennel was not +out in an open field, either, but under a piazza, and a lattice work +very near it left a very narrow passage for the children, even when +there wasn't any snake. If they had been standing upright, they could +have run, narrow as the way was; but they would have to crawl out of +the kennel and find room for their entire little bodies on the ground +before they could straighten themselves up and run. Fortunately, the +snake's head was turned the other way. + +"Ada," said Marland very quietly, so quietly that his grandpapa, +raking the gravel on the walk near by, did not hear, him, "there's +a snake out here, and it is a rattlesnake. Keep very still and crawl +right after me." + +"Yes, Ada," he whispered, as he succeeded in squirming himself out and +wriggling past the snake till he could stand upright. "_There's room_, +but you mustn't make any noise!" + +Five minutes later the two children sauntered slowly down the avenue, +hand in hand. + +"Grandpapa," said Marland, "there's a rattlesnake in there where Ada +and I were; perhaps you'd better kill him!" + +And when the snake had been killed, and papa for the hundredth time +had folded his little boy in his arms and murmured, "My brave boy! my +dear, brave little boy!" Marland looked up in surprise. + +"Why, it wasn't _I_ that killed the snake, papa! it was grandpapa! I +didn't do anything; I only kept very still and ran away!" + +But you see, in that case, keeping very still and running away was +just the bravest thing the little fellow could have done; and I +think his mamma--for I am his mamma, and so I know just how she did +feel--felt when she took him in her arms that night that in her little +boy's soul there was something of the stuff of which heroes are made. + +MRS. ALICE WELLINGTON ROLLINS. + + + + +THE MYSTERY OF SPRING. + + + Come, come, come, little Tiny, + Come, little doggie! We + Will "interview" all the blossoms + Down-dropt from the apple-tree; + We'll hie to the grove and question + Fresh grasses under the swing, + And learn if we can, dear Tiny, + Just what is the joy called Spring. + + Come, come, come, little Tiny; + Golden it is, I know: + Gold is the air around us, + The crocus is gold below; + Red as the golden sunset + Is robin's breast, on the wing-- + But, come, come, come, little Tiny, + This isn't the half of Spring. + + Spring's more than beautiful, Tiny; + Fragrant it is--for, see, + We catch the breath of the violets + However hidden they be; + And buds o'erhead in the greenwood + The sweetest of spices fling-- + Yet color and sweets together + Are still but a part of Spring. + + Then come, come, come, little Tiny, + Let's hear what _you_ have to tell + Learned of the years you've scampered + Over the hill and dell-- + What! Only a _bark_ for answer? + Now, Tiny, that isn't the thing + Will help unravel the riddle + Of wonderful, wonderful Spring. + + Yes, Tiny, there's something better + Than form and scent and hue, + In the grass with its emerald glory; + In the air's cerulean blue; + In the glow of the sweet arbutus; + In the daisy's perfect mould:-- + All these are delightful, Tiny, + But the secret's still untold. + + Oh, Tiny, _you'll_ never know it-- + For the mystery lies in this: + Just the fact of such warm uprising + From winter's chill abyss, + And the joy of our heart's upspringing + Whenever the Spring is born, + Because it repeats the story + Of the blessed Easter-morn! + +MRS. MARY B. DODGE. + + + + +[Illustration: ... THE LEAST LITTLE THING HATH MESSAGE SO WONDEROUS +AND TENDER.] + + +MIDSUMMER WORDS. + + + What can they want of a midsummer verse, + In the flush of the midsummer splendor? + For the Empress of Ind shall I pull out my purse + And offer a penny to lend her? + Who cares for a song when the birds are a-wing, + Or a fancy of words when the least little thing + Hath message so wondrous and tender? + + The trees are all plumed with their leafage superb, + And the rose and the lily are budding; + And wild, happy life, without hindrance or curb, + Through the woodland is creeping and scudding; + The clover is purple, the air is like mead, + With odor escaped from the opulent weed + And over the pasture-sides flooding. + + Every note is a tune, every breath is a boon; + 'Tis poem enough to be living; + Why fumble for phrase while magnificent June + Her matchless recital is giving? + Why not to the music and picturing come, + And just with the manifest marvel sit dumb + In silenced delight of receiving? + + Ah, listen! because the great Word of the Lord + That was born in the world to begin it, + Makes answering word in ourselves to accord, + And was put there on purpose to win it. + And the fulness would smother us, only for this: + We _can_ cry to each other, "How lovely it is! + And how blessed it is to be in it!" + +MRS. A. D. T. WHITNEY. + + + + +PAUL REVERE'S RIDE. + + + Listen, my children, and you shall hear + Of the midnight ride of Paul Revere, + On the eighteenth of April, in Seventy-Five: + Hardly a man is now alive + Who remembers that famous day and year. + + He said to his friend--"If the British march + By land or sea from the town to-night, + Hang a lantern aloft in the belfry-arch + Of the North-Church tower, as a signal-light-- + One if by land, and two if by sea; + And I on the opposite shore will be, + Ready to ride and spread the alarm + Through every Middlesex village and farm, + For the country-folk to be up and to arm." + +[Illustration] + + Then he said good-night, and with muffled oar + Silently rowed to the Charlestown shore, + Just as the moon rose over the bay, + Where swinging wide at her moorings lay + The Somerset, British man-of-war: + A phantom ship, with each mast and spar + Across the moon, like a prison-bar, + And a huge, black hulk, that was magnified + By its own reflection in the tide. + + Meanwhile, his friend, through alley and street + Wanders and watches with eager ears, + Till in the silence around him he hears + The muster of men at the barrack-door, + The sound of arms, and the tramp of feet, + And the measured tread of the grenadiers + Marching down to their boats on the shore. + + Then he climbed to the tower of the church, + Up the wooden stairs, with stealthy tread, + To the belfry-chamber overhead, + And startled the pigeons from their perch + On the sombre rafters, that round him made + Masses and moving shapes of shade-- + Up the light ladder, slender and tall, + To the highest window in the wall, + Where he paused to listen and look down + A moment on the roofs of the quiet town, + And the moonlight flowing over all. + + Beneath, in the church-yard lay the dead + In their night-encampment on the hill, + Wrapped in silence so deep and still, + That he could hear, like a sentinel's tread + The watchful night-wind as it went + Creeping along from tent to tent, + And seeming to whisper, "All is well!" + A moment only he feels the spell + Of the place and the hour, the secret dread + Of the lonely belfry and the dead; + For suddenly all his thoughts are bent + On a shadowy something far away, + Where the river widens to meet the bay-- + A line of black, that bends and floats + On the rising tide, like a bridge of boats. + + Meanwhile, impatient to mount and ride, + Booted and spurred with a heavy stride, + On the opposite shore walked Paul Revere. + Now he patted his horse's side, + Now gazed on the landscape far and near, + Then impetuous stamped the earth, + And turned and tightened his saddle-girth; + But mostly he watched with eager search + The belfry-tower of the old North Church, + As it rose above the graves on the hill, + Lonely, and spectral, and sombre, and still. + + And lo! as he looks, on the belfry's height, + A glimmer, and then a gleam of light! + He springs to the saddle, the bridle he turns, + But lingers and gazes, till full on his sight + A second lamp in the belfry burns. + + A hurry of hoofs in a village-street, + A shape in the moonlight, a bulk in the dark, + And beneath from the pebbles, in passing, a spark + Struck out by a steed that flies fearless and fleet: + That was all! And yet, through the gloom and the light, + The fate of a nation was riding that night; + And the spark struck out by that steed, in his flight, + Kindled the land into flame with its heat. + + It was twelve by the village-clock, + When he crossed the bridge into Medford town, + He heard the crowing of the cock, + And the barking of the farmer's dog, + And felt the damp of the river-fog, + That rises when the sun goes down. + + It was one by the village-clock, + When he rode into Lexington. + He saw the gilded weathercock + Swim in the moonlight as he passed, + And the meeting-house windows, blank and bare, + Gaze at him with a spectral glare, + As if they already stood aghast + At the bloody work they would look upon. + + It was two by the village-clock, + When he came to the bridge in Concord town. + He heard the bleating of the flock, + And the twitter of birds among the trees, + And felt the breath of the morning-breeze + Blowing over the meadows brown. + And one was safe and asleep in his bed, + Who at the bridge would be first to fall, + Who that day would be lying dead, + Pierced by a British musket-ball. + + You know the rest. In the books you have read + How the British regulars fired and fled-- + How the farmers gave them ball for ball, + From behind each fence and farmyard-wall, + Chasing the red-coats down the lane, + Then crossing the fields to emerge again + Under the trees at the turn of the road, + And only pausing to fire and load. + + So through the night rode Paul Revere; + And so through the night went his cry of alarm + To every Middlesex village and farm-- + A cry of defiance, and not of fear-- + A voice in the darkness, a knock at the door, + And a word that shall echo for evermore! + For, borne on the night-wind of the Past, + Through all our history, to the last, + In the hour of darkness, and peril, and need, + The people will waken and listen to hear + The hurrying hoof-beat of that steed, + And the midnight-message of Paul Revere. + +HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW. + + + + +TWO PERSIAN SCHOOLBOYS. + + +[Illustration] + +"Wake, Otanes, wake, the Magi are singing the morning hymn to Mithras. +Quick, or we shall be late at the exercises, and father promised, if +we did well, we should go to the chase with him to-day." + +"And perhaps shoot a lion. What a feather in our caps that would be! +Is it pleasant?" + +Smerdis pulled open the shutters that closed the windows, and the +first rays of the sun sparkled on the trees and fountains of a +beautiful garden beyond whose lofty walls appeared the dwellings and +towers of a mighty city. Already the low roar of its traffic reached +them while hurrying on their clothes to join their companions in the +spacious grounds where they were trained in wrestling, throwing blocks +of wood at each other to acquire agility in dodging the missiles, +the skilful use of the bow, and various other exercises for the +development of bodily strength and grace. + +A few minutes later the two brothers, Smerdis and Otanes, with scores +of other lads, ranging in age from seven to fourteen years, were +assembled in a vast playground, surrounded on all sides by a lofty +wall. + +The playground of a large boarding-school? + +It almost might be called so, but the pupils of this boarding-school +were educated free of expense to their parents, and it received +only the sons of the highest nobles in the land. This playground +was attached to the palace of Darius, King of Persia, who reigned +twenty-four hundred years ago, and these chosen boys had been taken +from their homes, as they reached the age of six years, to be reared +"at his gate," as the language of the country expressed it. + +Otanes and Smerdis were sons of one of the highest officers of the +court, the "ear of the king," or, as he would now be called, the +Minister of Police. Handsome little fellows of eleven and twelve, +with blue eyes, fair complexions, and curling yellow locks, their long +training in all sorts of physical exercises had made them stronger +and hardier than most lads of their age in our time. Though reared +in a palace, at one of the most splendid courts the world has ever +seen, the boys were expected to endure the hardships of the poorest +laborer's children. Instead of the gold and silver bedsteads used by +the nobles, they were obliged to sleep on the floor; if the court was +at Babylon, they were forced to make long marches under the burning +sun of Asia, and if, to escape the intense heat, the king removed +to his summer palaces at Ecbatana and Pasargadæ, situated in the +mountainous regions of Persia, where it was often bitterly cold, the +boys were ordered to bathe in the icy water of the rivers flowing from +the heights. In place of the dainty dishes and sweetmeats for which +Persian cooks were famous, they were allowed nothing but bread, water, +and a little meat; sometimes to accustom them to hardships they were +deprived entirely of food for a day or even longer. + +[Illustration: THE BOYS HURRIED OFF TOWARD HOME.] + +On this morning the exercises seemed specially long to the two +brothers, full of anticipations of pleasure; but finally the last +block of wood was hurled, the last arrow shot, the last wrestling +match ended, and the boys, bearing a sealed roll of papyrus, +containing a leave of absence for one day, hurried off towards home. + +Their father's palace stood at no great distance from the royal +residence, on the long, wide street extending straight to the city +gates, and like the houses of all the Persian nobles, was surrounded +by a beautiful walled garden called a paradise, laid out with +flower-beds of roses, poppies, oleanders, ornamental plants, adorned +with fountains, and shaded by lofty trees. + +The hunting party was nearly ready to start, and the courtyard was +thronged. Servants rushed to and fro bearing shields, swords, lances, +bows and lassos, for a hunter was always equipped with bow and arrows, +two lances, a sword and a shield. Others held in leash the dogs to be +used in starting the game. + +The enormous preserves in the neighborhood of Babylon were well +stocked with animals, including stags, wild boars, and a few lions. +Several noblemen clad in the plain hunting costume always worn in the +chase, were already mounted, among them the father of the two lads, +who greeted them affectionately as they respectfully approached and +kissed his hand. + +"Make haste, boys, your horses are ready. Take only bows and +shields--the swords and lances will be in your way; you must not try +to deal with larger game than you can manage with your arrows." + +"May we not carry daggers in our belts, too, father?" cried Otanes +eagerly. "They can't be in our way, and if we should meet a lion--" + +A laugh from the group of nobles interrupted him. "Your son seeks +large game, Intaphernes!" exclaimed a handsome officer. "He must have +better weapons than a bow and dagger, if--" + +The rest of the sentence was drowned by the noise in the courtyard, +but as the party rode towards the gate Intaphernes looked back: "Yes, +take the daggers, it can do no harm. Keep with Candaules." + +The old slave, a gray-haired, but muscular man, with several other +attendants, joined the lads, and the long train passed out into the +street and toward the city gates. Otanes hastily whispered to his +brother: "Keep close by me, Smerdis; if only we catch sight of a lion, +we'll show what we can do with bows and arrows." + +The sun was now several hours high, and the streets, lined with tall +brick houses, were crowded with people--artisans, slaves, soldiers, +nobles and citizens, the latter clad in white linen shirts, gay +woollen tunics and short cloaks. Two-wheeled wooden vehicles, drawn by +horses decked with bells and tassels, litters containing veiled women +borne by slaves, and now and then, the superb gilded carriage, hung +with silk curtains, of some royal princess passed along. Here and +there a heavily laden camel moved slowly by, and the next instant a +soldier of the king's bodyguard dashed past in his superb uniform--a +gold cuirass, purple surcoat, and high Persian cap, the gold scabbard +of his sword and the gold apple on his lance-tip flashing in the sun. + +[Illustration: THE HUNTING PARTY WERE NEARLY READY TO START.] + +High above the topmost roofs of even the lofty towers on the walls +rose the great sanctuary of the Magi,[1] the immense Temple of Bel, +visible in all quarters of the city, and seen for miles from every +part of the flat plain on which Babylon stood. The huge staircase +wound like a serpent round and round the outside of the building to +the highest story, which contained the sanctuary itself and also the +observatory whence the priests studied the stars. + +[Footnote 1: The Magi were the Persian priests.] + +Otanes and Smerdis, chatting eagerly together, rode on as fast as +the crowd would permit, and soon reached one of the gates in the huge +walls that defended the city. These walls, seventy-five feet high, and +wide enough to allow two chariots to drive abreast, were strengthened +by two hundred and fifty towers, except on one side, where deep +marshes extended to their base. Beyond these marshes lay the +hunting-grounds, and the party, turning to the left, rode for a time +over a smooth highway, between broad tracts of land sown with wheat, +barley and sesame. Slender palm-trees covered with clusters of golden +dates were seen in every direction, and the sunbeams shimmered on the +canals and ditches which conducted water from the Euphrates to all +parts of the fields. + +Otanes' horse suddenly shied violently as a rider, mounted on a fleet +steed, and carrying a large pouch, dashed by like the wind. + +"One of the Augari bearing letters to the next station!" exclaimed +Smerdis. "See how he skims along. Hi! If I were not to be one of the +king's bodyguard, I'd try for an Augar's place. How he goes! He's +almost out of sight already." + +"How far apart are the stations?" asked Otanes. + +"Eighteen miles. And when he gets there, he'll just toss the letter +bag to the next man, who is sitting on a fresh horse waiting for it, +and away _he'll_ go like lightning. That's the way the news is carried +to the very end of the empire of our lord the King." + +"Must be fine fun," replied Otanes. "But see, there's the gate of the +hunting-park. Now for the lion," he added gayly. + +"May Ormuzd[2] save you from meeting one, my young master," said the +old servant, Candaules. "Luckily it's broad daylight, and they are +more apt to come from their lairs after dark. Better begin with +smaller game and leave the lion and wild boars to your father." + +[Footnote 2: The principal god of the Persians.] + +"Not if we catch sight of them," cried Otanes, settling his shield +more firmly on his arm, and urging his horse to a quicker pace, for +the head of the long train of attendants had already disappeared amid +the dark cypress-trees of the hunting park. The immense enclosure +stretching from the edge of the morasses that bordered the walls +of Babylon far into the country, soon echoed with the shouts of the +attendants beating the coverts for game, the baying of the dogs, the +hiss of lances and whir of arrows. Bright-hued birds, roused by +the tumult, flew wildly hither and thither, now and then the superb +plumage of a bird of paradise flashing like a jewel among the dense +foliage of cypress and nut-trees. + +Hour after hour sped swiftly away; the party had dispersed in +different directions, following the course of the game; the sun was +sinking low, and the slaves were bringing the slaughtered birds and +beasts to the wagons used to convey them home. A magnificent stag was +among the spoil, and a fierce wild boar, after a long struggle, had +fallen under a thrust from Intaphernes's lance. + +The shrill blast of the Median trumpet sounded thrice, to give the +first of the three signals for the scattered hunters to meet at the +appointed place, near the entrance of the park, and the two young +brothers who, attended by Candaules and half a dozen slaves, had +ridden far into the shady recesses of the woods, reluctantly turned +their horses' heads. No thought of disobeying the summons entered +their minds--Persian boys were taught that next to truth and +courage, obedience was the highest virtue, and rarely was a command +transgressed. + +They had had a good day's sport; few arrows remained in their quivers, +and the attendants carried bunches of gay plumaged birds and several +small animals, among them a pretty little fawn. "Let's go nearer the +marshes; there are not so many trees, and we can ride faster," said +Otanes as the trumpet-call was repeated, and the little party turned +in that direction, moving more swiftly as they passed out upon the +strip of open ground between the thicket and the marshes. The sun was +just setting. The last crimson rays, shimmering on the pools of water +standing here and there in the morasses, cast reflections on the tall +reeds and rushes bordering their margins. + +Suddenly a pretty spotted fawn darted in front of the group, and +crossing the open ground, vanished amid a thick clump of reeds. "What +a nice pet the little creature would make for our sister Hadassah!" +cried Otanes eagerly. "See! it has hidden among the reeds; we might +take it alive. Go with Candaules and the slaves, Smerdis, and form +a half-circle beyond the clump. When you're ready, whistle, and I'll +ride straight down and drive it towards you; you can easily catch it +then. We are so near the entrance of the park now that we shall have +plenty of time; the third signal hasn't sounded yet." + +Smerdis instantly agreed to the plan. The horses were fastened to some +trees, and the men cautiously made a wide circuit, passed the bed of +reeds, and concealed themselves, behind the tall rushes beyond. A low +whistle gave Otanes the signal to drive out the fawn. + +Smerdis and the slaves saw the lad straighten himself in the saddle, +and with a shout, dash at full speed towards the spot where the fawn +had vanished. He had almost reached it when the stiff stalks shook +violently, and a loud roar made them all spring to their feet. They +saw the brave boy check his horse and fit an arrow to the string, but +as he drew the bow, there was a stronger rustle among the reeds; a +tawny object flashed through the air, striking Otanes from his saddle, +while the horse free from its rider, dashed, snorting with terror, +towards the park entrance. + +"A lion! A lion!" shrieked the trembling slaves, but Smerdis, drawing +his dagger, ran towards the place where his brother had fallen, +passing close by the body of the fawn which lay among the reeds with +its head crushed by a blow from the lion's paw. Candaules followed +close at the lad's heels. + +Parting the thick growth of stalks, they saw, only a few paces off, +Otanes, covered with blood, lying motionless on the ground, and beside +him the dead body of a half-grown lion, the boy's arrow buried in +one eye, while the blood still streamed from the lance-wound in the +animal's side. + +Smerdis, weeping, threw himself beside his brother, and at the same +moment Intaphernes, with several nobles and attendants, attracted +by the cries, dashed up to the spot. The father, springing from the +saddle, bent, and laid his hand on the boy's heart. + +"It is beating still, and strongly too," he exclaimed. "Throw water in +his face! perhaps--" + +Without finishing the sentence, he carefully examined the motionless +form. "Ormuzd be praised! He has no wound; the blood has flowed from +the lion. See, Prexaspes, there is a lance-head sticking in its side. +I believe it's the very beast you wounded early in the day." + +The officer whose laugh had so vexed Otanes, stooped over the dead +lion and looked at the broken shaft. + +"Ay, it's my weapon; the beast probably made its way to the morass for +water; but, by Mithras![3] the lad's arrow killed the brute; the barb +passed through the eyeball into the brain." + +[Footnote 3: The Persian god of the sun.] + +"Yes, my lord," cried old Candaules eagerly, "and doubtless it was +only the weight of the animal, which, striking my young master as it +made its spring, hurled him from the saddle and stunned him. See! he +is opening his eyes. Otanes, Otanes, you've killed the lion!" + +The boy's eyelids fluttered, then slowly rose, his eyes wandered over +the group, and at last rested on the dead lion. The old slave's words +had evidently reached his ear, for with a faint smile he glanced +archly at Prexaspes, and raising himself on one elbow, said: + +"You see, my lord--even with a bow and dagger!" + +MARY J. SAFFORD. + + + + +DO YOU KNOW HIM? + + +[Illustration: COULDN'T BEAR TO BE LAUGHED AT.] + + There was once a small boy--he might measure four feet; + His conduct was perfectly splendid, + His manners were good, and his temper was sweet, + His teeth and his hair were uncommonly neat, + In fact he could not be amended. + + His smile was so bright, and his word was so kind, + His hand was so quick to assist it, + His wits were so clever, his air so refined, + There was something so nice in him, body and mind, + That you never could try to resist it. + + + + +THE WEAVER OF BRUGES. + + +[Illustration] + + The strange old streets of Bruges town + Lay white with dust and summer sun, + The tinkling goat bells slowly passed + At milking-time, ere day was done. + + An ancient weaver, at his loom, + With trembling hands his shuttle plied, + While roses grew beneath his touch, + And lovely hues were multiplied. + + The slant sun, through the open door, + Fell bright, and reddened warp and woof, + When with a cry of pain a little bird, + A nestling stork, from off the roof, + + Sore wounded, fluttered in and sat + Upon the old man's outstretched hand; + "Dear Lord," he murmured, under breath, + "Hast thou sent me this little friend?" + + And to his lonely heart he pressed + The little one, and vowed no harm + Should reach it there; so, day by day, + Caressed and sheltered by his arm, + + The young stork grew apace, and from + The loom's high beams looked down with eyes + Of silent love upon his ancient friend, + As two lone ones might sympathize. + + At last the loom was hushed: no more + The deftly handled shuttle flew; + No more the westering sunlight fell + Where blushing silken roses grew. + + And through the streets of Bruges town + By strange hands cared for, to his last + And lonely rest, 'neath darkening skies, + The ancient weaver slowly passed; + + Then strange sight met the gaze of all: + A great white stork, with wing-beats slow, + Too sad to leave the friend he loved, + With drooping head, flew circling low, + + And ere the trampling feet had left + The new-made mound, dropt slowly down, + And clasped the grave in his white wings + His pure breast on the earth so brown. + + Nor food, nor drink, could lure him thence, + Sunrise nor fading sunsets red; + When little children came to see, + The great white stork--was dead. + +M.M.P. DINSMOOR. + + + + +THE MAN IN THE TUB. + + + Come here, little folks, while I rub and I rub! + O, there once was a man who lived in a tub, + In a classical town far over the seas; + The name of this fellow was Diogenes. + + And this is the story: it happened one day + That a wonderful king came riding that way; + Said he, to the man in the tub, "How d'ye do? + I'm Great Alexander; now, pray, who are you?" + + O, yes, to be clean you must rub, you must rub! + Though he lived and he slept and ate in a tub, + This singular man, in towns where he halted, + History tells us was greatly exalted. + + He rose in his tub: "I am Diogenes." + "Dear me," quoth the king, who'd been over the seas, + "I've heard of you often; now, what can I do + To aid such a wise individual as you?" + + Could one expect manners, I ask, as I rub, + From a man quite content to live in a tub? + "Get out of my sunlight," growled Diogenes + To this affable king who'd been o'er the seas. + +MAY E. STONE. + + + + +THE LITTLE GOLD MINERS OF THE SIERRAS. + + +Their mother had died crossing the plains, and their father had had +a leg broken by a wagon wheel passing over it as they descended +the Sierras, and he was for a long time after reaching the mines +miserable, lame and poor. + +The eldest boy, Jim Keene, as I remember him, was a bright little +fellow, but wild as an Indian and full of mischief. The next eldest +child, Madge, was a girl of ten, her father's favorite, and she was +wild enough too. The youngest was Stumps. Poor, timid, starved Little +Stumps! I never knew his real name. But he was the baby, and hardly +yet out of petticoats. And he was very short in the legs, very short +in the body, very short in the arms and neck; and so he was called +Stumps because he looked it. In fact he seemed to have stopped +growing entirely. Oh, you don't know how hard the old Plains were on +everybody, when we crossed them in ox-wagons, and it took more than +half a year to make the journey. The little children, those that did +not die, turned brown like the Indians, in that long, dreadful journey +of seven months, and stopped growing for a time. + +For the first month or two after reaching the Sierras, old Mr. Keene +limped about among the mines trying to learn the mystery of finding +gold, and the art of digging. But at last, having grown strong enough, +he went to work for wages, to get bread for his half-wild little ones, +for they were destitute indeed. + +Things seemed to move on well, then. Madge cooked the simple meals, +and Little Stumps clung to her dress with his little pinched brown +hand wherever she went, while Jim whooped it over the hills and chased +jack-rabbits as if he were a greyhound. He would climb trees, too, +like a squirrel. And, oh!--it was deplorable--but how he could swear! + +At length some of the miners, seeing the boy must come to some bad +end if not taken care of, put their heads and their pockets together +and sent the children to school. This school was a mile away over +the beautiful brown hills, a long, pleasant walk under the green +California oaks. + +Well, Jim would take the little tin dinner bucket, and his slate, and +all their books under his arm and go booming ahead about half a mile +in advance, while Madge with brown Little Stumps clinging to her side +like a burr, would come stepping along the trail under the oak-trees +as fast as she could after him. + +But if a jack-rabbit, or a deer, or a fox crossed Jim's path, no +matter how late it was, or how the teacher had threatened him, he +would drop books, lunch, slate and all, and spitting on his hands and +rolling up his sleeves, would bound away after it, yelling like a +wild Indian. And some days, so fascinating was the chase, Jim did +not appear at the schoolhouse at all; and of course Madge and Stumps +played truant too. Sometimes a week together would pass and the +Keene children would not be seen at the schoolhouse. Visits from the +schoolmaster produced no lasting effect. The children would come for a +day or two, then be seen no more. The schoolmaster and their father at +last had a serious talk about the matter. + +"What _can_ I do with him?" said Mr. Keene. + +"You'll have to put him to work," said the schoolmaster. "Set him to +hunting nuggets instead of bird's-nests. I guess what the boy wants is +some honest means of using his strength. He's a good boy, Mr. Keene; +don't despair of him. Jim would be proud to be an 'honest miner.' +Jim's a good boy, Mr. Keene." + +"Well, then, thank you, Schoolmaster," said Mr. Keene. "Jim's a good +boy; and Madge is good, Mr. Schoolmaster; and poor starved and stunted +motherless Little Stumps, he is good as gold, Mr. Schoolmaster. And I +want to be a mother to 'em--I want to be father and mother to 'em all, +Mr. Schoolmaster. And I'll follow your advice. I'll put 'em all to +work a-huntin' for gold." + +The next day away up on the hillside under a pleasant oak, where +the air was sweet and cool, and the ground soft and dotted over with +flowers, the tender-hearted old man that wanted to be "father and +mother both," "located" a claim. The flowers were kept fresh by a +little stream of waste water from the ditch that girded the brow of +the hill above. Here he set a sluice-box and put his three little +miners at work with pick, pan and shovel. There he left them and +limped back to his own place in the mine below. + +And how they did work! And how pleasant it was here under the broad +boughs of the oak, with the water rippling through the sluice on the +soft, loose soil which they shoveled into the long sluice-box. They +could see the mule-trains going and coming, and the clouds of dust far +below which told them the stage was whirling up the valley. But Jim +kept steadily on at his work day after day. Even though jack-rabbits +and squirrels appeared on the very scene, he would not leave till, +like the rest of the honest miners, he could shoulder his pick and pan +and go down home with the setting sun. + +Sometimes the men who had tried to keep the children at school, would +come that way, and with a sly smile, talk very wisely about whether +or not the new miners would "strike it" under the cool oak among the +flowers on the hill. But Jim never stopped to talk much. He dug and +wrestled away, day after day, now up to his waist in the pit. + +One Saturday evening the old man limped up the hillside to help the +young miners "clean up." + +[Illustration: "COLOR! TWO COLORS! THREE, FOUR, FIVE--A DOZEN!"] + +He sat down at the head of the sluice-box and gave directions how they +should turn off the most of the water, wash down the "toilings" very +low, lift up the "riffle," brush down the "apron," and finally set the +pan in the lower end of the "sluice-toil" and pour in the quicksilver +to gather up and hold the gold. + +"What for you put your hand in de water for, papa?" queried Little +Stumps, who had left off his work, which consisted mainly of pulling +flowers and putting them in the sluice-box to see them float away. He +was sitting by his father's side, and he looked up in his face as he +spoke. + +"Hush, child," said the old man softly, as he again dipped his thumb +and finger in his vest pocket as if about to take snuff. But he did +not take snuff. Again his hand was reached down to the rippling water +at the head of the sluice-box. And this time curious but obedient +Little Stumps was silent. + +Suddenly there was a shout, such a shout from Jim as the hills had not +heard since he was a schoolboy. + +He had found the "color." "Two colors! three, four, five--a dozen!" +The boy shouted like a Modoc, threw down the brush and scraper, and +kissed his little sister over and over, and cried as he did so; then +he whispered softly to her as he again took up his brush and scraper, +that it was "for papa; all for poor papa; that he did not care for +himself, but he did want to help poor, tired, and crippled papa." But +papa did not seem to be excited so very much. + +The little miners were now continually wild with excitement. They +were up and at work Monday morning at dawn. The men who were in the +father's tender secret, congratulated the children heartily and made +them presents of several small nuggets to add to their little hoard. + +In this way they kept steadily at work for half the summer. All the +gold was given to papa to keep. Papa weighed it each week, and I +suppose secretly congratulated himself that he was getting back about +as much as he put in. + +Before quite the end of the third month, Jim struck a thin bed of blue +gravel. The miners who had been happily chuckling and laughing among +themselves to think how they had managed to keep Jim out of mischief, +began to look at each other and wonder how in the world blue gravel +ever got up there on the hill. And in a few days more there was a +well-defined bed of blue gravel, too; and not one of the miners could +make it out. + +One Saturday evening shortly after, as the old man weighed their gold +he caught his breath, started, and stood up straight; straighter than +he had stood since he crossed the Plains. Then he hastily left the +cabin. He went up the hill to the children's claim almost without +limping. Then he took a pencil and an old piece of a letter, and wrote +out a notice and tacked it up on the big oak-tree, claiming those +mining claims according to miners' law, for the three children. A +couple of miners laughed as they went by in the twilight, to see what +he was doing; and he laughed with them. But as he limped on down the +hill he smiled. + +That night as they sat at supper, he told the children that as they +had been such faithful and industrious miners, he was going to give +them each a present, besides a little gold to spend as they pleased. + +So he went up to the store and bought Jim a red shirt, long black and +bright gum boots, a broad-brimmed hat, and a belt. He also bought each +of the other children some pretty trappings, and gave each a dollar's +worth of gold dust. Madge and Stumps handed their gold back to "poor +papa." But Jim was crazy with excitement. He put on his new clothes +and went forth to spend his dollar. And what do you suppose he bought? +I hesitate to tell you. But what he bought was a pipe and a paper of +tobacco! + +That red shirt, that belt and broad-brimmed hat, together with the +shiny top boots, had been too much for Jim's balance. How could a +man--he spoke of himself as a man now--how could a man be an "honest +miner" and not smoke a pipe? + +And now with his manly clothes and his manly pipe he was to be so +happy! He had all that went to make up "the honest miner." True, he +did not let his father know about the pipe. He hid it under his pillow +at night. He meant to have his first smoke at the sluice-box, as a +miner should. + +Monday morning he was up with the sun and ready for his work. His +father, who worked down the Gulch, had already gone before the +children had finished their breakfast. So now Jim filled his bran-new +pipe very leisurely; and with as much calm unconcern as if he had been +smoking for forty years, he stopped to scratch a match on the door as +he went out. + +From under his broad hat he saw his little sister watching him, and +he fairly swelled with importance as Stumps looked up at him with +childish wonder. Leaving Madge to wash the few tin dishes and follow +as she could with Little Stumps, he started on up the hill, pipe in +mouth. + +He met several miners, but he puffed away like a tug-boat against the +tide, and went on. His bright new boots whetted and creaked together, +the warm wind lifted the broad brim of his _sombrero_, and his bright +new red shirt was really beautiful, with the green grass and oaks +for a background--and so this brave young man climbed the hill to his +mine. Ah, he was so happy! + +Suddenly, as he approached the claim, his knees began to smite +together, and he felt so weak he could hardly drag one foot after the +other. He threw down his pick; he began to tremble and spin around. +The world seemed to be turning over and over, and he trying in vain to +hold on to it. He jerked the pipe from his teeth, and throwing it down +on the bank, he tumbled down too, and clutching at the grass with both +hands tried hard, oh! so hard, to hold the world from slipping from +under him. + +"Oh, Jim! you are white as snow," cried Madge as she came up. + +"White as 'er sunshine, an' blue, an' green too, sisser. Look at +brurrer 'all colors,'" piped Little Stumps pitifully. + +"O, Jim, Jim--brother Jim, what is the matter?" sobbed Madge. + +"Sunstroke," murmured the young man, smiling grimly, like a true +Californian. "No; it is not sunstroke, it's--it's cholera," he added +in dismay over his falsehood. + +Poor boy! he was sorry for this second lie too. He fairly groaned in +agony of body and soul. + +Oh, how he did hate that pipe! How he did want to get up and jump on +it and smash it into a thousand pieces! But he could not get up or +turn around or move at all without betraying his unmanly secret. + +A couple of miners came up, but Jim feebly begged them to go. + +"Sunstroke," whispered the sister. + +"No; tolera," piped poor Little Stumps. + +"Get out! Leave me!" groaned the young red-shirted miner of the +Sierras. + +The biggest of the two miners bent over him a moment. + +"Yes; it's both," he muttered. "Cholera-nicotine-fantum!" Then he +looked at his partner and winked wickedly. Without a word, he took +the limp young miner up in his arms and bore him down the hill to his +father's cabin, while Stumps and Madge ran along at either side, and +tenderly and all the time kept asking what was good for "cholera." + +The other old "honest miner" lingered behind to pick up the baleful +pipe which he knew was somewhere there; and when the little party +was far enough down the hill, he took it up and buried it in his own +capacious pocket with a half-sorrowful laugh. "Poor little miner," he +sighed. + +"Don't ever swear any more, Windy," pleaded the boy to the miner who +had carried him down the hill, as he leaned over him, "and don't never +lie. I am going to die, Windy, and I should like to be good. Windy, it +_ain't_ sunstroke, it's" ... + +[Illustration: HE TOOK THE LIMP YOUNG MINER IN HIS ARMS.] + +"Hush yer mouth," growled Windy. "I know what 'tis! We've left it on +the hill." + +The boy turned his face to the wall. The conviction was strong upon +him that he was going to die, The world spun round now very, very fast +indeed. Finally, half-rising in bed, he called Little Stumps to his +side: + +"Stumps, dear, good Little Stumps, if I die don't you never try for to +smoke; for that's what's the matter with me. No, Stumps--dear little +brother Stumps--don't you never try for to go the whole of the 'honest +miner,' for it can't be did by a boy! We're nothing but boys, you and +I, Stumps--Little Stumps." + +He sank back in bed and Little Stumps and his sister cried and cried, +and kissed him and kissed him. + +The miners who had gathered around loved him now, every one, for +daring to tell the truth and take the shame of his folly so bravely. + +"I'm going to die, Windy," groaned the boy. + +Windy could stand no more of it. He took Jim's hand with a cheery +laugh. "Git well in half an hour," said he, "now that you've out with +the truth." + +And so he did. By the time his father came home he was sitting up; and +he ate breakfast the next morning as if nothing had happened. But he +never tried to smoke any more as long as he lived. And he never lied, +and he never swore any more. + +Oh, no! this Jim that I have been telling you of is "Moral Jim," of +the Sierras. The mine? Oh, I almost forgot. Well, that blue dirt was +the old bed of the stream, and it was ten times richer than where the +miners were all at work below. Struck it! I should say so! Ask any of +the old Sierras miners about "The Children's Claim," if you want to +hear just how rich they struck it. + +JOAQUIN MILLER. + + + + +OLD GODFREY'S RELIC. + + + A simple, upright man was he, + Of spirit undefiled, + Cheerful and hale at seventy-three, + As any blithesome child. + + Old Godfrey's friends and neighbors felt + His due was honest praise; + Ofttimes how fervently they dwelt + On his brave words and ways! + + He had no foeman in the land + Whose deeds or tongue would gall; + Of guileless heart, of liberal hand, + He smiled on one and all. + + But most, I think, he smiled on me; + "Your eyes, dear boy," he said, + "Remind me, though not mournfully, + Of eyes whose light is dead." + + How oft beneath his roof I've been + On eves of wintry blight, + And heard his magic violin + Make musical the night. + + No consort by his board was set, + No child his hearth had known, + Yet of all souls I've ever met, + His seemed the least alone. + +[Illustration: Keen Memories of the Thrilling Years That Thronged His +Ocean Life.] + + What stories in my eager ears + He poured of peace or strife; + Keen memories of the thrilling years + That thronged his ocean life. + + And oh, he showed such marvellous things + From unknown sea and shore, + That, brimmed with strange imaginings, + My boy's brain bubbled o'er! + + It wandered back o'er many a track + Of his old life-toil free; + The enchanted calm, the fiery wrack, + Far off, far off at sea! + + For once he dared the watery world, + O'er wild or halcyon waves, + And saw his snow-white sails unfurled + Above a million graves. + + Northward he went, thro' ice and sleet, + Where soon the sunbeams fail, + And followed with an armed fleet + The wide wake of the whale. + + Southward he went through airs serene + Of soft Sicilian noon, + And sang, on level decks, between + The twilight and the moon. + + But once--it was a tranquil time, + An evening half divine, + When the low breeze like murmurous rhyme + Sighed through the sunset fine. + + Once, Godfrey from the secret place + Wherein his treasures lay, + Brought forth, with calmly museful face, + This relic to the day-- + + A soft tress with a silken tie, + A brightly shimmering curl; + Such as might shadow goldenly + The fair brow of a girl. + + "Oh, lovelier," cried I, "than the dawn + Auroral mists enfold, + The long and luminous threadlets drawn + Through this rich curl of gold! + + "Tell, tell me, o'er whose graceful head + You saw the ringlet shine?" + Thereon the old man coolly said, + "_Why, lad, the tress is mine!_ + + "Look not amazed, but come with me, + And let me tell you where + And how, one morning fearfully, + I lost that lock of hair." + + He led me past his cottage screen + Of flowers, far down the wood + Where, towering o'er the landscape green, + A centuried oak-tree stood. + + "Here is the place," he said, "whereon + Heaven helped me in sore strait, + And in a March morn's radiance wan + Turned back the edge of fate! + + "My father a stout yeoman was, + And I, in childish pride, + That morning through the dew-drenched grass, + Walked gladly by his side, + + "Till _here_ he paused, with glittering steel, + A prostrate trunk to smite; + How the near woodland seemed to reel + Beneath his blows of might! + + "And round about me viciously + The splinters flashed and flew; + Some sharply grazed the shuddering eye, + Some pattered down the dew. + + "Childlike, I strove to pick them up, + But stumbling forward, sunk, + O'er the wild pea and buttercup, + Across the smitten trunk. + + "Just then, with all its ponderous force + The axe was hurtling down; + What spell could stay its savage course? + What charm could save my crown? + + "Too late, too late to stop the blow; + I shrieked to see it come; + My father's blood grew cold as snow; + My father's voice was dumb. + + "He staggered back a moment's space, + Glaring on earth and skies; + Blank horror in his haggard face, + Dazed anguish in his eyes. + + "He searched me close to find my wound; + He searched with sobbing breath; + But not the smallest gateway found + Opened to welcome death. + + "He thanked his God in ardent wise, + Kneeling 'twixt shine and shade; + Then lowered his still half-moistened eyes + O'er the keen axe's blade. + + "_Two hairs clung to it!_... thence, he turned + Where the huge log had rolled, + And there in tempered sunlight burned + A quivering curl of gold. + + "The small thing looked alive!... it stirred + By breeze and sunbeam kissed, + And fluttered like an Orient bird, + Half-glimpsed through sunrise mist. + + "Oh! keen and sheer the axe-edge smote + The perfect curl apart! + Even _now_, through tingling head and throat, + I feel the old terror dart. + + "My father kept his treasure long, + 'Mid seasons grave or gay, + Till to death's plaintive curfew-song, + Calmly he passed away. + + "I, too, the token still so fair, + Have held with tendance true; + And dying, this memorial hair + I'll leave, dear lad, to you!" + +PAUL H. HAYNE. + + + + +EVAN COGWELL'S ICE FORT. + + +In the early days of Northern Ohio, when settlers were few and far +between, Evan Cogswell, a Welsh lad of sixteen years, found his way +thither and began his career as a laborer, receiving at first but two +dollars a month in addition to his board and "home-made" clothing. He +possessed an intelligent, energetic mind in a sound and vigorous body, +and had acquired in his native parish the elements of an education in +both Welsh and English. + +The story of his life, outlined in a curious old diary containing +the records of sixty-two years, and an entry for more than twenty-two +thousand days, would constitute a history of the region, and some of +its passages would read like high-wrought romance. + +His first term of service was with a border farmer on the banks of a +stream called Grand River, in Ashtabula County. It was rather crude +farming, however, consisting mostly of felling trees, cutting wood and +saw-logs, burning brush, and digging out stumps, the axe and pick-axe +finding more use than ordinary farm implements. + +Seven miles down the river, and on the opposite bank, lived the +nearest neighbors, among them a blacksmith who in his trade served +the whole country for twenty miles around. One especial part of his +business was the repairing of axes, called in that day "jumping," or +"upsetting." + +In midwinter Evan's employer left a couple of axes with the blacksmith +for repairs, the job to be done within a week. At this time the +weather was what is termed "settled," with deep snow, and good +"slipping" along the few wildwood roads. + +But three or four days later, there came a "January thaw." Rain and a +warmer temperature melted away much of the snow, the little river was +swelled to a great torrent, breaking up the ice and carrying it down +stream, and the roads became almost impassable. When the week was up +and the farmer wanted the axes, it was not possible for the horse to +travel, and after waiting vainly for a day or two for a turn in the +weather, Evan was posted off on foot to obtain the needed implements. +Delighting in the change and excitement of such a trip, the boy +started before noon, expecting to reach home again ere dark, as it was +not considered quite safe to journey far by night on account of the +wolves. + +Three miles below, at a narrow place in the river, was the bridge, +consisting of three very long tree-trunks reaching parallel from bank +to bank, and covered with hewn plank. When Evan arrived here he found +that this bridge had been swept away. But pushing on down stream +among the thickets, about half a mile below, he came upon an immense +ice-jam, stretching across the stream and piled many feet high. Upon +this he at once resolved to make his way over to the road on the +other side, for he was already wearied threading the underbrush. Grand +River, which is a narrow but deep and violent stream, ran roaring +and plunging beneath the masses of ice as if enraged at being so +obstructed; but the lad picked his path in safety and soon stood on +the opposite bank. + +Away he hurried now to the blacksmith's, so as to complete his errand +and return by this precarious crossing before dark. + +But the smith had neglected his duty and Evan had to wait an hour or +more for the axes. At length they were done, and with one tied at each +end of a strong cord and this hung about his neck, he was off on the +homeward trip. To aid his walking, he procured from the thicket a +stout cane. He had hardly gone two miles when the duskiness gathering +in the woods denoted the nearness of night; yet as the moon was riding +high, he pushed on without fear. + +[Illustration: HOMEWARD. SAFELY INTRENCHED.] + +But as he was skirting a wind-fall of trees, he came suddenly upon two +or three wolves apparently emerging from their daytime hiding place +for a hunting expedition. Evan was considerably startled; but as +they ran off into the woods as if afraid of him, he took courage in +the hope that they would not molest him. In a few minutes, however, +they set up that dismal howling by which they summon their mates and +enlarge their numbers; and Evan discovered by the sounds that they +were following him cautiously at no great distance. + +Frequent responses were also heard from more distant points in the +woods and from across the river. By this time it was becoming quite +dark, the moonlight penetrating the forest only along the roadway +and in occasional patches among the trees on either side. The rushing +river was not far away, but above its roar arose every instant +the threatening howl of a wolf. Finally, just as he reached the +ice-bridge, the howling became still, a sign that their numbers +emboldened them to enter in earnest on the pursuit. The species +of wolf once so common in the central States, and making the early +farmers so much trouble, were peculiar in this respect; they were +great cowards singly, and would trail the heels of a traveler howling +for recruits, and not daring to begin the attack until they had +collected a force that insured success; then they became fierce and +bold, and more to be dreaded than any other animal of the wilderness. +And at this point, when they considered their numbers equal to the +occasion, the howling ceased. + +Evan had been told of this, and when the silence began, he knew its +meaning, and his heart shuddered at the prospect. His only hope lay +in the possibility that they might not dare to follow him across the +ice-bridge. But this hope vanished as he approached the other shore, +and saw by the moonlight several of the gaunt creatures awaiting +him on that side. What should he do? No doubt they would soon muster +boldness to follow him upon the ice, and then his fate would be sealed +in a moment. + +In the emergency he thought of the axes, and taking them from his +neck, cut the cord, and thrust his walking-stick into one as a helve, +resolved to defend himself to the last. + +At this instant he espied among the thick, upheaved ice-cakes two +great fragments leaning against each other in such a way as to form a +roof with something like a small room underneath. Here he saw his only +chance. Springing within, he used the axe to chip off other fragments +with which to close up the entrance, and almost quicker than it can +be told, had thus constructed a sort of fort, which he believed would +withstand the attack of the wolves. At nightfall the weather had +become colder, and he knew that in a few minutes the damp pieces of +ice would be firmly cemented together. + +Hardly had he lifted the last piece to its place, when the pack came +rushing about him, snapping and snarling, but at first not testing the +strength of his intrenchment. When soon they began to spring against +it, and snap at the corners of ice, the frost had done its work, and +they could not loosen his hastily built wall. + +Through narrow crevices he could look out at them, and at one time +counted sixteen grouped together in council. As the cold increased he +had to keep in motion in order not to freeze, and any extra action on +his part increased the fierceness of the wolves. At times they would +gather in a circle around him, and after sniffing at him eagerly, set +up a doleful howling, as if deploring the excellent supper they had +lost. + +Ere long one of them found an opening at a corner large enough to +admit its head; but Evan was on the alert, and gave it such a blow +with the axe as to cause its death. Soon another tried the same thing, +and met with the same reception, withdrawing and whirling around +several times, and then dropping dead with a broken skull. + +One smaller than the rest attempting to enter, and receiving the fatal +blow, crawled, in its dying agony, completely into the enclosure, and +lay dead at Evan's feet. Of this he was not sorry, as his feet were +bitterly cold, and the warm carcass of the animal served to relieve +them. + +In the course of the night six wolves were killed as they sought to +creep into his fortress, and several others so seriously hacked as +to send them to the woods again; and, however correct the notion that +when on the hunt they devour their fallen comrades, in this case they +did no such thing, as in the morning the six dead bodies lay about +on the ice, and Evan had the profitable privilege of taking off their +skins. + +Of his thoughts during the night, a quotation from his diary is +quaintly suggestive and characteristic. + +"I bethought me of the wars of Glendower, which I have read about, and +the battle of Grosmont Castle; and I said, 'I am Owen Glendower; +this is my castle; the wolves are the army of Henry; but I will never +surrender or yield as did Glendower.'" + +Toward morning, as the change of weather continued, and the waters of +the river began to diminish, there was suddenly a prodigious crack and +crash of the ice-bridge, and the whole mass settled several inches. +At this the wolves took alarm, and in an instant fled. Perhaps they +might have returned had not the crackling of the ice been repeated +frequently. + +At length Evan became alarmed for his safety, lest the ice should +break up in the current, and bringing his axe to bear, soon burst +his way out and fled to the shore. But not seeing the ice crumble, he +ventured back to obtain the other axe, and then hastened home to his +employer. + +During the day he skinned the wolves, and within a fortnight pocketed +the bounty money, amounting in all to about one hundred and fifty +dollars. With this money he made the first payment on a large farm, +which he long lived to cultivate and enjoy, and under the sod of which +he found a quiet grave. + +IRVING L. BEMAN. + + + + +HOW THEY BROUGHT THE GOOD NEWS FROM GHENT TO AIX. + + + I sprang to the stirrup, and Joris and he: + I galloped, Dirck galloped, we galloped all three; + "Good speed!" cried the watch as the gate-bolts undrew, + "Speed!" echoed the wall to us galloping through. + Behind shut the postern, the lights sank to rest, + And into the midnight we galloped abreast. + + Not a word to each other; we kept the great pace-- + Neck by neck, stride by stride, never changing our place; + I turned in my saddle and made its girths tight, + Then shortened each stirrup and set the pique right, + Rebuckled the check-strap, chained slacker the bit, + Nor galloped less steadily Roland a whit. + + 'Twas moonset at starting; but while we drew near + Lokeren, the cocks crew and twilight dawned clear; + At Boom a great yellow star came out to see; + At Düffeld 'twas morning as plain as could be; + And from Mechlin church-steeple we heard the half-chime-- + So Joris broke silence with "Yet there is time!" + + At Aerschot up leaped of a sudden the sun, + And against him the cattle stood black every one, + To stare through the mist at us galloping past; + And I saw my stout galloper Roland at last + With resolute shoulders, each butting away + The haze, as some bluff river headland its spray; + + And his low head and crest, just one sharp ear bent back + For my voice, and the other pricked out on his track, + And one eye's black intelligence--ever that glance + O'er its white edge at me, his own master, askance; + And the thick heavy spume-flakes, which aye and anon + His fierce lips shook upwards in galloping on. + + By Hasselt, Dirck groaned; and cried Joris, "Stay spur! + Your Roos galloped bravely, the fault's not in her; + We'll remember at Aix"--for one heard the quick wheeze + Of her chest, saw the stretched neck and staggering knees, + And sunk tail, and horrible heave of the flank, + As down on her haunches she shuddered and sank. + + So we were left galloping, Joris and I, + Past Looz and past Tongres, no cloud in the sky; + The broad sun above laughed a pitiless laugh; + 'Neath our feet broke the brittle bright stubble like chaff; + Till over by Delhem a dome-spire sprung white, + And "Gallop," gasped Joris, "for Aix is in sight! + + "How they'll greet us!" and all in a moment his roan + Rolled neck and croup over, lay dead as a stone; + And there was my Roland to bear the whole weight + Of the news which alone could save Aix from her fate, + With his nostrils like pits full of blood to the brim, + And with circles of red for his eye-sockets' rim. + + Then I cast loose my buff-coat, each holster let fall, + Shook off both my jack-boots, let go belt and all, + Stood up in the stirrup, leaned, patted his ear, + Called my Roland his pet name, my horse without peer-- + Clapped my hands, laughed and sung, any noise, bad or good, + Till at length into Aix, Roland galloped and stood. + + And all I remember is friends flocking round, + As I sate with his head twixt my knees on the ground; + And no voice but was praising this Roland of mine + As I poured down his throat our last measure of wine, + Which (the burgesses voted by common consent) + Was no more than his due who brought good news from Ghent. + +ROBERT BROWNING. + + + + +A HERO. + +(_A STORY OF THE AMERICAN REVOLUTION._) + + +They were sitting by the great blazing wood-fire. It was July, but +there was an east wind and the night was chilly. Besides, Mrs. Heath +had a piece of fresh pork to roast. Squire Blake had "killed" the +day before--that was the term used to signify the slaughter of any +domestic animal for food--and had distributed the "fresh" to various +families in town, and Mrs. Heath wanted hers for the early breakfast. +Meat was the only thing to be had in plenty--meat and berries. Wheat +and corn, and vegetables even, were scarce. There had been a long +winter, and then, too, every family had sent early in the season all +they could possibly spare to the Continental army. As to sugar and tea +and molasses, it was many a day since they had had even the taste of +them. + +The piece of pork was suspended from the ceiling by a stout string, +and slowly revolved before the fire, Dorothy or Arthur giving it a +fresh start when it showed signs of stopping. There was a settle +at right angles with the fireplace, and here the little cooks sat, +Dorothy in the corner nearest the fire, and Arthur curled up on the +floor at her feet, where he could look up the chimney and see the +moon, almost at the full, drifting through the sky. At the opposite +corner sat Abram, the hired man and faithful keeper of the family in +the absence of its head, at work on an axe helve, while Bathsheba, or +"Basha," as she was briefly and affectionately called, was spinning in +one corner of the room just within range of the firelight. + +There was no other light--the firelight being sufficient for their +needs--and it was necessary to economize in candles, for any day a +raid from the royal army might take away both cattle and sheep, +and then where would the tallow come from for the annual fall +candle-making? There was a rumor--Abram had brought it home that very +day--that the royal army were advancing, and red coats might make +their appearance in Hartland at any time. Arthur and Dorothy were +talking about it, as they turned the roasting fork. + +"Wish I was a man," said Arthur, glancing towards his mother, who was +sitting in a low splint chair knitting stockings for her boy's winter +wear. "I'd like to shoot a red coat." + +"O Arty!" exclaimed Dorothy reproachfully; "you're always thinking of +shooting! Now _I_ should like to nurse a sick soldier and wait upon +him. Poor soldiers! it was dreadful what papa wrote to mamma about +them." + +"Would you nurse a red coat?" asked Arthur, indignantly. + +"Yes," said Dorothy. "Though of course I should rather, a great deal +rather, nurse one of our own soldiers. But, Arty," continued the +little elder sister, "papa says if we must fight, why, we must fight +bravely, but that we can be brave without fighting." + +"Well, I mean to be a hero, and heroes always fight. King Arthur +fought. Papa said so. He and his knights fought for the Sangreal, +and liberty is our Sangreal. I'm glad my name is Arthur, anyhow, for +Arthur means noble and high," he said, lifting his bright boyish face +with its steadfast blue eyes, and glancing again towards his mother. +She gave an answering smile. + +"I hope my boy will always be noble and high in thought and deed. But, +as papa said, to be a hero one does not need to fight, at least, not +to fight men. We can fight bad tempers and bad thoughts and cowardly +impulses. They who fight these things successfully are the truest +heroes, my boy." + +"Ah, but mamma, didn't I hear you tell grandmamma how you were proud +of your hero. That's what you called papa when General Montgomery +wrote to you, with his own hand, how he drove back the enemy at the +head of his men, while the balls were flying and the cannons roaring +and flashing; and when his horse was shot under him how he struggled +out and cheered on his men, on foot, and the bullets whizzed and the +men fell all around him, and he wasn't hurt and"--Here the boy stopped +abruptly and sprang impulsively forward, for his mother's cheek had +suddenly grown pale. + +"True grit!" remarked Abram to Basha, in an undertone, as she paused +in her walk to and fro by the spinning-wheel to join a broken thread. +"But there never was a coward yet, man or woman, 'mong the Heaths, +an' I've known 'em off an' on these seventy year. Now there was ole +Gineral Heath," he continued, holding up the axe helve and viewing it +critically with one eye shut, "he was a marster hand for fightin'. Fit +the Injuns 's though he liked it. That gun up there was his'n." + +"Tell us about the 'sassy one,'" said Arthur, turning at the word gun. + +"Youngster, 'f I've told yer that story once, I've told yer fifty +times," said Abram. + +"Tell it again," said the boy eagerly. "And take down the gun, too." + +Abram got up as briskly as his seventy years and his rheumatism would +permit, and took down the gun from above the mantel-piece. It was a +very large one. + +"Not quite so tall as the old Gineral himself," said Abram, "but a +purty near to it. This gun is 'bout seven feet, an' yer gran'ther was +seven feet two--a powerful built man. Wall, the Injuns had been mighty +obstreperous 'long 'bout that time, burnin' the Widder Brown's house +and her an' her baby a-hidin' in a holler tree near by, an' carryin' +off critters an' bosses, an' that day yer gran'ther was after 'em with +a posse o' men, an' what did that pesky Injun do but git up on a rock +a quarter o' a mile off an' jestickerlate in an outrigerous manner, +like a sarcy boy, an' yer grand'ther, he took aim and fired, an' that +impident Injun jest tumbel over with a yell; his last, mind ye, and +good enough for him!" + +"I like to hear about old gran'ther," said Arthur. + +As Abram was restoring the gun to its place upon the hooks, a sound +was heard at the side door--a sound as of a heavy body falling against +it, which startled them all. The dog Cæsar rose, and going to the door +which opened into the side entry, sniffed along the crack above the +threshold. Apparently satisfied, he barked softly, and rising on his +hind legs lifted the latch and sprang into the entry. Abram followed +with Basha. As he lifted the latch of the outer door--the string had +been drawn in early, as was the custom in those troublous time--and +swung it back, the light from the fire fell upon the figure of a man +lying across the doorstone. + +"Sakes alive!" exclaimed Abram, drawing back. But at a word from the +mistress, they lifted the man and brought him in and laid him down on +the braided woollen mat before the fire. Then for a moment there was +silence, for he wore the dress of a British soldier, and his right arm +was bandaged. He had fainted from loss of blood, apparently--perhaps +from hunger. Basha loosened his coat at the throat, and tried to force +a drop or two of "spirits" into his mouth, while Mrs. Heath rubbed his +hands. + +"He ain't dead," said Basha, in a grim tone, "and mind you, we'll +see trouble from this." Basha was an arrant rebel, and hated the +very sight of a red coat. "What are you doing here," she continued, +addressing him, "killin' honest folks, when you'd better 've staid +cross seas in yer own country?" + +"Basha!" said Mrs. Heath reprovingly, "he is helpless." + +But Basha as she unwound the tight bandage from the shattered arm, +kept muttering to herself like a rising tempest, until at length the +man having come quite to himself, detected her feeling, and with great +effort said, "I am _not_ a British soldier." + +"Then what to goodness have you got on their uniform for?" queried +Basha. + +Little by little the pitiful story was told. He was an American +soldier who had been doing duty as a spy in the British camp. Up to +the very last day of his stay he had not been suspected; but trying to +get away he was suspected, challenged, and fired at. The shot passed +through his arm. He was certain his pursuers had followed him till +night, and they would be likely to continue the search the next day, +and he begged Mrs. Heath to secrete him for a day or two, if possible. + +"I wouldn't mind being shot, marm," he said, "but you know they'll +hang me if they get me. Of course I risked it when I went into their +camp, but it's none the pleasanter for all that." + +Now in the old Heath house there was a secret chamber, built in the +side of the chimney. Most of those old colonial houses had enormous +chimneys, that took up, sometimes, a quarter of the ground occupied +by the house, so it was not a difficult thing to enclose a small +space with slight danger of its existence being detected. This chimney +chamber in the Heath house was little more than a closet eight feet by +four. It was entered from the north chamber, Abram's room, through a +narrow sliding panel that looked exactly like the rest of the wall, +which was of cedar boards. An inch-wide shaft running up the side +of the chimney ventilated the closet, and it was lighted by a window +consisting of three small panes of glass carefully concealed under the +projecting roof. In a sunny day one could see to read there easily. + +A small cot-bed was now carried into this room, and up there, after +his wound had been dressed by Basha, who, like many old-time women, +was skilful in dressing wounds and learned in the properties of herbs +and roots, and he had been fed and bathed, the soldier was taken; and +a very grateful man he was as he settled himself upon the comfortable +bed and looked up with a smiling "thank you," into Basha's face, which +was no longer grim and forbidding. + +All this time no special notice had been taken of Dorothy and Arthur. +They had followed about to watch the bathing, feeding and tending, +and when Mrs. Heath turned to leave the secret chamber, she found +them behind her, staring in with very wide-open eyes indeed; for, if +you can believe it, they never before had even heard of, much less +seen, this lovely little secret chamber. It was never deemed wise in +colonial families to talk about these hiding-places, which sometimes +served so good a purpose, and I doubt if many adults in the town of +Hartland knew of this secret chamber in the Heath house. + +The panel was closed, and Abram was left to care for the wounded +soldier through the night. It was nine o'clock, the colonial hour for +going to bed, and long past the children's hour, and Dotty and Arthur +in their prayers by their mother's knee, put up a petition for the +safety of the stranger. + +"_Would_ they hang him if they could get him, mamma?" asked Arty. + +"Certainly," she replied. "It is one of the rules of warfare. A spy is +always hung." + +In the morning, from nine to eleven, Mrs. Heath always devoted to the +children's lessons. Arthur, who was eleven, was a good Latin scholar. +He was reading _Cæsar's Commentaries_, and he liked it--that is, he +liked the story part. He found some of it pretty tough reading, and +I need not tell you boys who have read Cæsar, what parts those were. +They had English readings from the _Spectator_, and from Bishop +Leighton's works, books which you know but little about. Dotty had +a daily lesson in botany, and very pleasant hours those school hours +were. + +After dinner, at twelve, they had the afternoon for play. That +afternoon, the day after the soldier came, they went berrying. They +did this almost every day during berry time, so as to have what they +liked better than anything for supper--berries and milk. Occasionally +they had huckleberry "slap-jacks," also a favorite dish, for +breakfast; not often, however, as flour was scarce. + +They went for berries down the road known as South Lane, a lonely +place, but where berries grew plentifully. Their mother had cautioned +them not to talk about the occurrence of the night before, as some one +might overhear, and so, though they talked about their play and their +studies, about papa and his soldiers, they said nothing about _the_ +soldier. + +[Illustration: "Tell Me, My Little Man," Said He, "Where You Saw the +British Uniform."] + +They had nearly filled their baskets, when a growl from Cæsar startled +them, and turning, they saw two horsemen who had stopped near by, +one of whom was just springing from his horse. They were in British +uniform, and the children at once were sure what they wanted. + +"O Arty, Arty!" whispered Dorothy. "They've come, and we mustn't +tell." + +The man advanced with a smile meant to be pleasant, but which was in +reality so sinister that the children shrank with a sensation of fear. + +"How are you, my little man? Picking berries, eh? And where do you +live?" he asked. + +"With mamma," answered Arthur promptly. + +"And who is mamma? What is her name?" + +"Mrs. Heath," said Arty. + +"And don't you live with papa too? Where is papa?" the man asked. + +Arthur hesitated an instant, and then out it came, and proudly too. +"In the Continental army, sir." + +"Ho! ho! and so we are a little rebel, are we?" laughed the man. "And +who am I? Do you know?" + +"Yes, sir; a British soldier." + +"How do you know that?" + +"Because you wear their uniform, sir?" + +"You cannot have seen many British soldiers here," said the man. "Did +you ever see the British uniform before?" + +"Yes, sir," replied Arty. + +"And where did you see it?" he asked, glancing sharply at Arthur and +then at Dorothy. Upon the face of the latter was a look of dismay, for +she had foreseen the drift of the man's questions and the trap into +which Arty had fallen. He, too, saw it, now he was in. The only +British uniform he had ever seen was that worn by the American spy. +For a brief moment he was tempted to tell a lie. Then he said firmly, +"I cannot tell you, sir." + +"Cannot! Does that mean will not?" said the man threateningly. Then +he put his hand into his pocket and took out a bright gold sovereign, +which he held before Arthur. + +"Come, now, my little man, tell me where you saw the British soldier's +uniform, and you shall have this gold piece." + +But all the noble impulses of the boy's nature, inherited and +strengthened by his mother's teachings, revolted at this attempt to +bribe him. His eyes flashed. He looked the man full in the face. "I +will not!" said he. + +"Come, come!" cried out the man on horseback. "Don't palter any longer +with the little rebel. We'll find a way to make him tell. Up with +him!" + +In an instant the man had swung Arthur into his saddle, and leaping up +behind him, struck spurs to his horse and dashed away. Cæsar, who had +been sniffing about, suspicious, but uncertain, attempted to leap upon +the horseman in the rear, but he, drawing his pistol from his saddle, +fired, and Cæsar dropped helpless. + +The horsemen quickly vanished, and for a moment Dorothy stood pale and +speechless. Then she knelt down by Cæsar, examined his wound--he was +shot in the leg--and bound it up with her handkerchief, just as she +saw Basha do the night before, and then putting her arms around his +neck she kissed him. "Be patient, dear old Cæsar, and Abram shall come +for you!" + +Covered with dust, her frock stained with Cæsar's blood, a pitiful +sight indeed was Dorothy as she burst into the kitchen where Basha was +preparing supper. + +"O mamma, they've carried off Arty and shot Cæsar, those dreadful, +dreadful British!" + +Between her sobs she told the whole fearful story to the two +women--fearful, I say, for Mrs. Heath knew too well the reputed +character of the British soldiery, not to fear the worst if her boy +should persist in refusing to tell where he had seen the British +soldier's uniform. But even in her distress she was conscious of a +proud faith that he would not betray his trust. + +As to Basha, who shall describe her horror and indignation? "The +wretches! ain't they content to murder our men and burn our houses, +that they must take our innercent little boys?" and she struck the +spit into the chicken she was preparing for supper vindictively, as +though thus she would like to treat the whole British army. "The dear +little cretur! what'll he do to-night without his mamma, and him never +away from her a night in his blessed life. 'Pears to me the Lord's +forgot the Colonies. O dearie, dearie me!" utterly overcome she +dropped into a chair, and throwing her homespun check apron over +her head, she gave way to such a fit of weeping as astonished and +perplexed Abram, one of whose principal articles of faith it was that +Basha couldn't shed a tear, even if she tried, "more'n if she's made +o' cast iron." + +It indeed looked hopeless. Who was to follow after these men and +rescue Arthur? There was hardly any one left in town but old men, +women and children. + +Mrs. Heath thought of this as she soothed Dorothy, coaxed her to eat a +little supper, and then sat by her side until she fell asleep. She sat +by the fire while the embers died out, or walked up and down the long, +lonely kitchen, wrestling, like Jacob, in prayer, for her boy, until +long after midnight. + +And now let us follow Arthur's fortunes. The men galloped hard and +long over hills, through valleys and woods, so far away it seemed +to the little fellow he could never possibly see mamma or Dorothy +again. At last they drew up at a large white house, evidently the +headquarters of the officers, and Arthur was put at once into a dark +closet and there left. He was tired and dreadfully hungry, so hungry +that he could think of hardly anything else. He heard the rattling of +china and glasses, and knew they were at supper. By and by a servant +came and took him into the supper room. His eyes were so dazzled at +first by the change from the dark closet to the well-lighted room, +that he could scarcely see. But when the daze cleared he found himself +standing near the head of the table, where sat a stout man with a red +face, a fierce mustache, and an evil pair of eyes. + +He looked at Arthur a moment. Then he poured out a glass of wine and +pushed it towards him: "Drink!" + +But Arthur did not touch the glass. + +"Drink, I say," he repeated impatiently. "Do you hear?" + +"I have promised mamma never to drink wine," was the low response. + +It seemed to poor Arthur as though everything had combined against +him. It was bad enough to have to say no to the question about the +uniform, and now here was something else that would make the men still +more angry with him. But the officer did not push his command; he +simply thrust the glass one side and said, "Now, my boy, we're going +to get that American spy and hang him. You know where he is and you've +got to tell us, or it will be the worse for you. Do you want to see +your mother again?" + +Arthur did not answer. He could not have answered just then. A big +bunch came into his throat. Cry? Not before these men. So he kept +silence. + +"Obstinate little pig! speak!" thundered the officer, bringing his +great brawny fist down upon the table with a blow that set the glasses +dancing. "Will you tell me where that spy is?" + +"No, sir," came in very low, but very firm tones. I will not tell +you the dreadful words of that officer, as he turned to his servant +with the command, "Put him down cellar, and we'll see to him in the +morning. They're all alike, men, women and children. Rebellion in the +very blood. The only way to finish it is to spill it without mercy." + +Now there was one thing that Arthur, brave as he was, feared, and that +was--rats! Left on a heap of dry straw, he began to wonder if there +were rats there. Presently he was sure he heard something move, but +he was quickly reassured by the touch of soft, warm fur on his hand, +and the sound of a melodious "pur-r." The friendly kitty, glad of a +companion, curled herself by his side. What comfort she brought to +the lonely little fellow! He lay down beside her, and saying his _Our +Father_, and _Now I Lay Me_, was soon in a profound sleep, the purring +little kitty nestling close. + +The sounds of revelry in the rooms above did not disturb him. The +boisterous songs and laughter, the stamping of many feet, continued +far into the night. At last they ceased; and when everything had been +for a long time silent, the door leading to the cellar was softly +opened and a lady came down the stairway. I have often wished that +I might paint her as she looked coming down those stairs. Arthur was +afterwards my great-grandfather, you know, and he told me this story +when I was a young girl in my teens. He told me how lovely this lady +was. + +Her gown was of some rich stuff that shimmered in the light of the +candle she carried, and rustled musically as she walked. There was +a flash of jewels at her throat and on her hands. She had wrapped a +crimson mantle about her head and shoulders. Her eyes were like stars +on a summer's night, sparkling with a veiled radiance, and as she +stood and looked down upon the sleeping boy, a smile, sweet, but full +of a profound sadness, played upon her lips. Then a determined look +came into her bright eyes. + +He stirred in his sleep, laughed out, said "mamma," and then opened +his eyes. She stooped and touched his lips with her finger. "Hush! +Speak only in a whisper. Eat this, and then I will take you to your +mother." + +After he had eaten, she wrapped a cloak about him, and together they +stole up and out past the sleeping, drunken sentinel, to the stables. +She lead out a white horse, her own horse, Arthur was sure, for the +creature caressed her with his head, and as she saddled him she talked +to him in low tones, sweet, musical words of some foreign tongue. The +handsome horse seemed to understand the necessity of silence, for +he did not even whinny to the touch of his mistress' hand, and trod +daintily and noiselessly as she led him to the mounting block, his +small ears pricking forward and backward, as though knowing the need +of watchful listening. + +Leaping to the saddle and stooping, she lifted Arthur in front of her, +and with a word they were off. A slow walk at first, and then a rapid +canter. Arthur never forgot that long night ride with the beautiful +lady on the white horse, over the country flooded with the brilliancy +of the full moon. Once or twice she asked him if he was cold, as she +drew the cloak more closely about him, and sometimes she would murmur +softly to herself words in that silvery, foreign tongue. As they drew +near Hartland, she asked him to point out his father's house, and +when they were quite near, only a little distance off, she stopped the +horse. + +"I leave you here, you brave, darling boy," she said. "Kiss me once, +and then jump down. And don't forget me." + +Arthur threw his arms around her neck and kissed her, first on one +cheek and then on the other, and looking up into the beautiful face +with its starry eyes, said: + +"I will never, never forget you, for you are the loveliest lady I ever +saw--except mamma." + +She laughed a pleased laugh, like a child, then took a ring from her +hand and put it on one of Arthur's fingers. Her hand was so slender it +fitted his chubby little hand very well. + +"Keep this," she said, "and by and by give it to some lady good and +true, like mamma." + +"Will you be punished?" he said, keeping her hand. She laughed again, +with a proud, daring toss of her dainty head, and rode away. + +Arthur watched her out of sight, and then turned towards home. Mrs. +Heath was still keeping her lonely watch, when the latch of the outer +door was softly lifted--nobody had the heart to take in the string +with Arty outside--the inner door swung noiselessly back, and the +blithe voice said, "Mamma! mamma! here I am, and I didn't tell." + +All that day, and the next, and the next, the Heath household were in +momentary expectation of the coming of the red coats to search for the +spy. Dorothy and Arthur, and sometimes Abram, did picket duty to give +seasonable warning of their approach. But they never came. In a few +days news was brought that the British forces, on the very morning +after Arthur's return, had made a rapid retreat before an advance of +the Federal troops, and never again was a red coat seen in Hartland. +The spy got well in great peace and comfort under Basha's nursing, and +went back again to do service in the Continental army, and Dotty used +to say, "You did learn, didn't you, Arty, how a person, even a little +boy, can be a hero without fighting, just as mamma said?" + + + + +[Illustration: Teddy the Teazer, A Moral Story with a Velocipede +Attachment, by M.E.B.] + +TEDDY THE TEAZER + +A MORAL STORY WITH A VELOCIPEDE ATTACHMENT + + + He wanted a velocipede, + And shook his saucy head; + He thought of it in daytime, + He dreamed of it in bed, + He begged for it at morning, + He cried for it at noon, + And even in the evening + He sang the same old tune. + + He wanted a velocipede! + It was no use to say + He was too small to manage it, + Or it might run away, + Or crack his little occiput, + Or break his little leg-- + It made no bit of difference, + He'd beg, and beg, and beg. + + He wanted a velocipede, + A big one with a gong + To startle all the people, + As they saw him speed along; + A big one, with a cushion, + And painted red and black, + To make the others jealous + And clear them off the track. + + He wanted a velocipede, + The largest ever built, + Though he was only five years old + And wore a little kilt, + And hair in curls a-waving, + And sashes by his side, + And collars wide as cart-wheels, + Which hurt his manly pride! + + He wanted a velocipede + With springs of burnished steel; + He knew the way to work it-- + The treadle for the wheel, + The brake to turn and twist it, + The crank to make it stop, + My! hadn't he been riding + For days, with Jimmy Top? + + He wanted a velocipede! + Why, he was just as tall + As six-year-old Tom Tucker, + Who wasn't very small! + And feel his muscle, will you? + And tell him, if you dare, + That he's the sort of fellow + To get a fall, or scare? + + They got him a velocipede; + I really do not know + How they could ever do it, + But then, he teased them so, + And so abused their patience, + And dulled their nerves of right, + That they just lost their senses + And brought it home one night. + + They bought him a velocipede-- + O woe the day and hour! + When proudly seated on it, + In pomp of pride and power, + His foot upon the treadle, + With motion staid and slow + He turned upon his axle, + And made the big thing go. + + Alas, for the velocipede! + The way ran down a hill-- + The whirling wheels went faster, + And fast, and faster still, + Until, like flash of rocket, + Or shooting star at night, + They crossed the dim horizon + And rattled out of sight. + + So vanished the velocipede, + With him who rode thereon; + And no one, since that dreadful day, + Has found out where 'tis gone! + Except a floating rumor + Which some stray wind doth blow. + When the long nights of winter + Are white with frost and snow, + Of a small fleeting shadow, + That seems to run astray + Upon a pair of flying wheels, + Along the Milky Way. + + And this they think is Teddy! + Doomed for all time to speed-- + A wretched little phantom boy, + On a velocipede! + +M.E.B. + +[Illustration] + + + + +JOJO'S PETITION. + + + Golden-haired Jojo, at his mother's knee, + Nestles each night his baby prayer to say: + "Bless papa and mamma! make Ned and me + Good little boys!" he has been taught to pray. + + Grandmamma was very sick one weary day, + And Jojo shared with us our anxious care; + So the dear child, when he knelt down to pray, + Seemed to think Grandma must be in his prayer. + + And sure the dear Lord did not fail to hear + Sharer alike of sorrows and of joys-- + When he said, "Bless papa and my mamma dear, + And make me an' Gran'ma an' Neddy good boys!" + +RUTH HALL. + + + +***END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK OUR BOYS*** + + +******* This file should be named 16171-8.txt or 16171-8.zip ******* + + +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: +https://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/1/6/1/7/16171 + + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at <a href = "https://www.gutenberg.org">www.gutenberg.org</a></pre> +<p>Title: Our Boys</p> +<p> Entertaining Stories by Popular Authors</p> +<p>Author: Various</p> +<p>Release Date: July 1, 2005 [eBook #16171]</p> +<p>Language: English</p> +<p>Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1</p> +<p>***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK OUR BOYS***</p> +<p> </p> +<h3>E-text prepared by Marilynda Fraser-Cunliffe, William Flis,<br /> + and the Project Gutenberg Online Distributed Proofreading Team<br /> + (<a href="https://www.pgdp.net/">https://www.pgdp.net/</a>)</h3> +<p> </p> +<hr class="full" /> +<p> </p> +<div class="figcenter" style="width:80%;"><a href="images/1.jpg"> +<img width="100%" src="images/1.jpg" alt="Cover" /></a></div> +<p> </p> + +<h1>OUR BOYS</h1> + +<h3>GEORGE CARY EGGLESTON, MARY E. WILKINS,<br /> +FRANCES A. HUMPHREY, MARGARET EYTINGE,<br /> +MRS. A. D. T. WHITNEY, MARY D. BRINE, Etc., Etc., Etc.</h3> + +<p> </p> +<h4><i>Profusely Illustrated.</i></h4> +<p> </p> +<p> </p> + +<center>THE SAALFIELD PUBLISHING COMPANY<br /> +AKRON, OHIO</center> + +<h4>1904</h4> +<p> </p> +<p> </p> +<div class="figcenter" style="width:80%;"><a href="images/2.jpg"> +<img width="100%" src="images/2.jpg" alt="Frontispiece" /></a></div> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width:100%;"><a href="images/5.png"><img width="100%" src="images/5.png" alt="" /></a></div> + +<h2>The Cat-tail Arrow</h2> + +<h3>BY CLARA DOTY BATES</h3> + + +<div class="poem"> <div class="stanza"> +<p><img width="10%" src="images/ltr-l.png" alt="[Illuminated letter] L" />ittle Sammie made a bow,</p> +<p class="i2">Well indeed he loved to whittle,</p> +<p>Shaped it like the half of O—</p> +<p>How he could I scarcely know,</p> +<p class="i2">For his fingers were so little.</p> +<p>As he whittled came a sigh:</p> +<p class="i2">"If I only had an arrow;</p> +<p>Something light enough to fly</p> +<p>To the tree-tops or the sky!</p> +<p class="i2">Then I'd have such fun tomorrow."</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>Then he thought of all the slim</p> +<p class="i2">Things that grow—the hazel bushes,</p> +<p>Willow branches, poplars trim—</p> +<p>And yet nothing suited him</p> +<p class="i2">Till he chanced to think of rushes.</p> +<p>He knew well a quiet pool</p> +<p class="i2">Where he always paused a minute</p> +<p>On his way to district school,</p> +<p>Just to see the waters cool</p> +<p class="i2">And his own bright face within it.</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>There the cat-tails thickly grew,</p> +<p class="i2">With their heads so brown and furry;</p> +<p>They were straight and slender too,</p> +<p>Plenty strong enough he knew,</p> +<p class="i2">And he sought them in a hurry.</p> +<p>Such an arrow as he wrought—</p> +<p class="i2">Almost passed a boy's believing.</p> +<p>When he drew the bow-string taut,</p> +<p>Out of sight and quick as thought</p> +<p class="i2">Up it went, the blue air cleaving.</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>Who was Sammie, would you know?</p> +<p class="i2">It was grandpa—he was little</p> +<p>Nearly eighty years ago;</p> +<p>But 'tis no doubt as fine a bow</p> +<p class="i2">As the best he still could whittle.</p> + </div> </div> + + + + +<div class="figcenter" style="width:100%;"><a href="images/7.png"><img width="100%" src="images/7.png" alt="A YOUNG SALT" /></a>A YOUNG SALT.</div> + +<h2>HE COULDN'T SAY NO.</h2> + + +<div class="poem"> <div class="stanza"> +<p class="i2"><img width="10%" src="images/ltr-i.png" alt="[Illuminated letter] I" />t was sad and it was strange!</p> +<p class="i4">He just was full of knowledge,</p> +<p class="i2">His studies swept the whole broad range</p> +<p class="i4">Of High School and of College;</p> +<p class="i2">He read in Greek and Latin too,</p> +<p class="i4">Loud Sanscrit he could utter,</p> +<p class="i6">But one small thing he couldn't do</p> +<p class="i6">That comes as pat to me and you</p> +<p class="i4">As eating bread and butter:</p> +<p>He couldn't say "No!" He couldn't say "No!"</p> +<p>I'm sorry to say it was really so!</p> +<p>He'd diddle, and dawdle, and stutter, but oh!</p> +<p>When it came to the point he could never say "No!"</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p class="i6">Geometry he knew by rote,</p> +<p class="i8">Like any Harvard Proctor;</p> +<p class="i6">He'd sing a fugue out, note by note;</p> +<p class="i8">Knew Physics like a Doctor;</p> +<p class="i6">He spoke in German and in French;</p> +<p class="i8">Knew each Botanic table;</p> +<p class="i10">But one small word that you'll agree</p> +<p class="i10">Comes pat enough to you and me,</p> +<p class="i8">To speak he was not able:</p> +<p>For he couldn't say "No!" He couldn't say "No!"</p> +<p>'Tis dreadful, of course, but 'twas really so.</p> +<p>He'd diddle, and dawdle, and stutter, but oh!</p> +<p>When it came to the point he could never say "No!"</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p class="i6">And he could fence, and swim, and float,</p> +<p class="i8">And use the gloves with ease too,</p> +<p class="i6">Could play base ball, and row a boat,</p> +<p class="i8">And hang on a trapeze too;</p> +<p class="i6">His temper was beyond rebuke,</p> +<p class="i8">And nothing made him lose it;</p> +<p class="i10">His strength was something quite superb,</p> +<p class="i10">But what's the use of having nerve</p> +<p class="i8">If one can never use it?</p> +<p>He couldn't say "No!" He couldn't say "No!"</p> +<p>If one asked him to come, if one asked him to go,</p> +<p>He'd diddle, and dawdle, and stutter, but oh!</p> +<p>When it came to the point he could never say "No!"</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p class="i6">When he was but a little lad,</p> +<p class="i8">In life's small ways progressing,</p> +<p class="i6">He fell into this habit bad</p> +<p class="i8">Of always acquiescing;</p> +<p class="i6">'Twas such an amiable trait,</p> +<p class="i8">To friend as well as stranger,</p> +<p class="i10">That half unconsciously at last</p> +<p class="i10">The custom held him hard and fast</p> +<p class="i8">Before he knew the danger,</p> +<p>And he couldn't say "No!" He couldn't say "No!"</p> +<p>To his prospects you see 'twas a terrible blow.</p> +<p>He'd diddle, and dawdle, and stutter, but oh!</p> +<p>When it came to the point he could never say "No!"</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p class="i6">And so for all his weary days</p> +<p class="i8">The best of chances failed him;</p> +<p class="i6">He lived in strange and troublous ways</p> +<p class="i8">And never knew what ailed him;</p> +<p class="i6">He'd go to skate when ice was thin;</p> +<p class="i8">He'd join in deeds unlawful,</p> +<p class="i10">He'd lend his name to worthless notes,</p> +<p class="i10">He'd speculate in stocks and oats;</p> +<p class="i8">'Twas positively awful,</p> +<p>For he couldn't say "No!" He couldn't say "No!"</p> +<p>He would veer like a weather-cock turning so slow;</p> +<p>He'd diddle, and dawdle, and stutter, but oh!</p> +<p>When it came to the point he could never say "No!"</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p class="i6">Then boys and girls who hear my song,</p> +<p class="i8">Pray heed its theme alarming:</p> +<p class="i6">Be good, be wise, be kind, be strong—</p> +<p class="i8">These traits are always charming,</p> +<p class="i6">But all your learning, all your skill</p> +<p class="i8">With well-trained brain and muscle,</p> +<p class="i10">Might just as well be left alone,</p> +<p class="i10">If you can't cultivate backbone</p> +<p class="i8">To help you in life's tussle,</p> +<p>And learn to say "No!" Yes, learn to say "No!"</p> +<p>Or you'll fall from the heights to the rapids below!</p> +<p>You may waver, and falter, and tremble, but oh!</p> +<p>When your conscience requires it, be sure and shout "No!"</p> + </div> </div> + +<p class="author">M.E.B.</p> + + + + +<div class="figcenter" style="width:100%;"><a href="images/10.png"><img width="100%" src="images/10.png" alt="Going into the Chapel." /></a></div> + +<h2>THE CHRISTMAS MONKS.</h2> + + +<p><img width="10%" src="images/ltr-a.png" alt="[Illuminated letter] A" />ll children have wondered unceasingly from their very +first Christmas up to their very last Christmas, where +the Christmas presents come from. It is very easy to +say that Santa Claus brought them. All well regulated people +know that, of course; about the reindeer, and the sledge, and +the pack crammed with toys, the chimney, and all the rest of it—that +is all true, of course, and everybody knows about it; but that +is not the question which puzzles. What children want to know +is, where do these Christmas presents come from in the first +place? Where does Santa Claus get them? Well, the answer +to that is, <i>In the garden of the Christmas Monks</i>. This has not +been known until very lately; that is, it has not been known till +very lately except in the immediate vicinity of the Christmas +Monks. There, of course, it has been known for ages. It is +rather an out-of-the-way place; and that accounts for our never +hearing of it before.</p> + +<p>The Convent of the Christmas Monks is a most charmingly +picturesque pile of old buildings; there are towers and turrets, +and peaked roofs and arches, and everything which could possibly +be thought of in the architectural line, to make a convent +picturesque. It is built of graystone; but it is only once in a +while that you can see the graystone, for the walls are almost +completely covered with mistletoe and ivy and evergreen. There +are the most delicious little arched windows with diamond panes +peeping out from the mistletoe and evergreen, and always at all +times of the year, a little Christmas wreath of ivy and holly-berries +is suspended in the centre of every window. Over all +the doors, which are likewise arched, are Christmas garlands, +and over the main entrance <i>Merry Christmas</i> in evergreen letters.</p> + +<p>The Christmas Monks are a jolly brethren; the robes of +their order are white, gilded with green garlands, and they never +are seen out at any time of the year without Christmas wreaths +on their heads. Every morning they file in a long procession +into the chapel to sing a Christmas carol; and every evening +they ring a Christmas chime on the convent bells. They eat +roast turkey and plum pudding and mince-pie for dinner all the +year round; and always carry what is left in baskets trimmed +with evergreen to the poor people. There are always wax candles +lighted and set in every window of the convent at nightfall; +and when the people in the country about get uncommonly blue +and down-hearted, they always go for a cure to look at the Convent +of the Christmas Monks after the candles are lighted and +the chimes are ringing. It brings to mind things which never +fail to cheer them.</p> + +<p>But the principal thing about the Convent of the Christmas +Monks is the garden; for that is where the Christmas presents +grow. This garden extends over a large number of acres, and +is divided into different departments, just as we divide our flower +and vegetable gardens; one bed for onions, one for cabbages, and +one for phlox, and one for verbenas, etc.</p> + +<p>Every spring the Christmas Monks go out to sow the Christmas-present +seeds after they have ploughed the ground and made +it all ready.</p> + +<p>There is one enormous bed devoted to rocking-horses. The +rocking-horse seed is curious enough; just little bits of rocking-horses +so small that they can only be seen through a very, very +powerful microscope. The Monks drop these at quite a distance +from each other, so that they will not interfere while growing; +then they cover them up neatly with earth, and put up a sign-post +with "Rocking-horses" on it in evergreen letters. Just so +with the penny-trumpet seed, and the toy-furniture seed, the +skate-seed, the sled-seed, and all the others.</p> + +<p>Perhaps the prettiest, and most interesting part of the garden, +is that devoted to wax dolls. There are other beds for the +commoner dolls—for the rag dolls, and the china dolls, and the +rubber dolls, but of course wax dolls would look much handsomer +growing. Wax dolls have to be planted quite early in the +season; for they need a good start before the sun is very high. +The seeds are the loveliest bits of microscopic dolls imaginable. +The Monks sow them pretty close together, and they begin to +come up by the middle of May. There is first just a little glimmer +of gold, or flaxen, or black, or brown, as the case may be, +above the soil. Then the snowy foreheads appear, and the blue +eyes, and the black eyes, and, later on, all those enchanting little +heads are out of the ground, and are nodding and winking and +smiling to each other the whole extent of the field; with their +pinky cheeks and sparkling eyes and curly hair there is nothing +so pretty as these little wax doll heads peeping out of the earth. +Gradually, more and more of them come to light, and finally by +Christmas they are all ready to gather. There they stand, swaying +to and fro, and dancing lightly on their slender feet which +are connected with the ground, each by a tiny green stem; their +dresses of pink, or blue, or white—for their dresses grow with +them—flutter in the air. Just about the prettiest sight in the +world is the bed of wax dolls in the garden of the Christmas +Monks at Christmas time. Of course ever since this convent and +garden were established (and that was so long ago that the wisest +man can find no books about it) their glories have attracted a +vast deal of admiration and curiosity from the young people in +the surrounding country; but as the garden is enclosed on all +sides by an immensely thick and high hedge, which no boy could +climb, or peep over, they could only judge of the garden by the +fruits which were parceled out to them on Christmas-day.</p> + +<p>You can judge, then, of the sensation among the young +folks, and older ones, for that matter, when one evening +there appeared hung upon a conspicuous place in the garden-hedge, +a broad strip of white cloth trimmed with evergreen +and printed with the following notice in evergreen letters:</p> + +<p>"<span class="sc">Wanted</span>—By the Christmas Monks, two <i>good</i> boys to +assist in garden work. Applicants will be examined by +Fathers Anselmus and Ambrose, in the convent refectory, on +April 10th."</p> + +<p>This notice was hung out about five o'clock in the evening, +some time in the early part of February. By noon the street was +so full of boys staring at it with their mouths wide open, so as to +see better, that the king was obliged to send his bodyguard before +him to clear the way with brooms, when he wanted to pass on his +way from his chamber of state to his palace.</p> + +<p>There was not a boy in the country but looked upon this +position as the height of human felicity. To work all the year +in that wonderful garden, and see those wonderful things growing! +and without doubt any body who worked there could have +all the toys he wanted, just as a boy who works in a candy-shop +always has all the candy he wants!</p> + +<p>But the great difficulty, of course, was about the degree of +goodness requisite to pass the examination. The boys in this +country were no worse than the boys in other countries, but there +were not many of them that would not have done a little differently +if he had only known beforehand of the advertisement of +the Christmas Monks. However, they made the most of the time +remaining, and were so good all over the kingdom that a very +millennium seemed dawning. The school teachers used their +ferrules for fire wood, and the king ordered all the birch trees +cut down and exported, as he thought there would be no more +call for them in his own realm.</p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width:100%;"><a href="images/14.png"><img width="100%" src="images/14.png" alt="The boys read the notice." /></a></div> + +<p>When the time for the examination drew near, there were +two boys whom every one thought would obtain the situation, +although some of the other boys had lingering hopes for themselves; +if only the Monks would examine them on the last six +weeks, they thought they might pass. Still all the older people +had decided in their minds that the Monks would choose these +two boys. One was the Prince, the king's oldest son; and the +other was a poor boy named Peter. The Prince was no better +than the other boys; indeed, to tell the truth, he was not so good; +in fact, was the biggest rogue in the whole country; but all the +lords and the ladies, and all the people who admired the lords +and ladies, said it was their solemn belief that the Prince was the +best boy in the whole kingdom; and they were prepared to give +in their testimony, one and all, to that effect to the Christmas +Monks.</p> + +<p>Peter was really and truly such a good boy that there was no +excuse for saying he was not. His father and mother were poor +people; and Peter worked every minute out of school hours to +help them along. Then he had a sweet little crippled sister +whom he was never tired of caring for. Then, too, he contrived +to find time to do lots of little kindnesses for other people. He +always studied his lessons faithfully, and never ran away from +school. Peter was such a good boy, and so modest and unsuspicious +that he was good, that everybody loved him. He had not +the least idea that he could get the place with the Christmas +Monks, but the Prince was sure of it.</p> + +<p>When the examination day came all the boys from far and +near, with their hair neatly brushed and parted, and dressed in +their best clothes, flocked into the convent. Many of their relatives +and friends went with them to witness the examination.</p> + +<p>The refectory of the convent, where they assembled, was a +very large hall with a delicious smell of roast turkey and plum +pudding in it. All the little boys sniffed, and their mouths +watered.</p> + +<p>The two fathers who were to examine the boys were perched +up in a high pulpit so profusely trimmed with evergreen that it +looked like a bird's nest; they were remarkably pleasant-looking +men, and their eyes twinkled merrily under their Christmas +wreaths. Father Anselmus was a little the taller of the two, and +Father Ambrose was a little the broader; and that was about all +the difference between them in looks.</p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width:100%;"><a href="images/16.png"><img width="100%" src="images/16.png" alt="The Prince & Peter are examined by the Monks." /></a></div> + +<p>The little boys all stood +up in a row, their friends stationed +themselves in good +places, and the examination began.</p> + +<p>Then if one had been +placed beside the entrance to +the convent, he would have +seen one after another, a crestfallen +little boy with his arm +lifted up and crooked, and his +face hidden in it, come out +and walk forlornly away. He had failed to pass.</p> + +<p>The two fathers found out that this boy had robbed birds' +nests, and this one stolen apples. And one after another they +walked disconsolately away till there were only two boys left: +the Prince and Peter.</p> + +<p>"Now, your Highness," said Father Anselmus, who always +took the lead in the questions, "are you a good boy?"</p> + +<p>"O holy Father!" exclaimed all the people—there were a +good many fine folks from the court present. "He is such a good +boy! such a wonderful boy! We never knew him to do a wrong +thing in his sweet life."</p> + +<p>"I don't suppose he ever robbed a bird's nest?" said Father +Ambrose a little doubtfully.</p> + +<p>"No, no!" chorused the people.</p> + +<p>"Nor tormented a kitten?"</p> + +<p>"No, no, no!" cried they all.</p> + +<p>At last everybody being so confident that here could be no +reasonable fault found with the Prince, he was pronounced competent +to enter upon the Monks' service. Peter they knew a great +deal about before—indeed, a glance at his face was enough to +satisfy any one of his goodness; for he did look more like one of +the boy angels in the altar-piece than anything else. So after a +few questions, they accepted him also; and the people went home +and left the two boys with the Christmas Monks.</p> + +<p>The next morning Peter was obliged to lay aside his homespun +coat, and the Prince his velvet tunic, and both were dressed +in some little white robes with evergreen girdles like the Monks. +Then the Prince was set to sowing Noah's ark seed, and Peter +picture-book seed. Up and down they went scattering the seed. +Peter sang a little psalm to himself, but the Prince grumbled +because they had not given him gold-watch or gem seed to plant +instead of the toy which he had outgrown long ago. By noon +Peter had planted all his picture-books, and fastened up the card +to mark them on the pole; but the Prince had dawdled so his +work was not half done.</p> + +<p>"We are going to have a trial with this boy," said the Monks +to each other; "we shall have to set him a penance at once, or +we cannot manage him at all."</p> + +<p>So the Prince had to go without his dinner, and kneel on +dried peas in the chapel all the afternoon. The next day he finished +his Noah's Arks meekly; but the next day he rebelled again +and had to go the whole length of the field where they planted +jewsharps, on his knees. And so it was about every other day +for the whole year.</p> + +<p>One of the brothers had to be set apart in a meditating cell +to invent new penances; for they had used up all on their list +before the Prince had been with them three months.</p> + +<p>The Prince became dreadfully tired of his convent life, and +if he could have brought it about would have run away. Peter, +on the contrary, had never been so happy in his life. He worked +like a bee, and the pleasure he took in seeing the lovely things +he had planted come up, was unbounded, and the Christmas +carols and chimes delighted his soul. Then, too, he had never +fared so well in his life. He could never remember the time +before when he had been a whole week without being hungry. +He sent his wages every month to his parents; and he never +ceased to wonder at the discontent of the Prince.</p> + +<p>"They grow so slow," the Prince would say, wrinkling up +his handsome forehead. "I expected to have a bushelful of new +toys every month; and not one have I had yet. And these stingy +old Monks say I can only have my usual Christmas share anyway, +nor can I pick them out myself. I never saw such a stupid +place to stay in my life. I want to have my velvet tunic on +and go home to the palace and ride on my white pony with the +silver tail, and hear them all tell me how charming I am." Then +the Prince would crook his arm and put his head on it and cry.</p> + +<p>Peter pitied him, and tried to comfort him, but it was not +of much use, for the Prince got angry because he was not discontented +as well as himself.</p> + +<p>Two weeks before Christmas everything in the garden was +nearly ready to be picked. Some few things needed a little more +December sun, but everything looked perfect. Some of the +Jack-in-the-boxes would not pop out quite quick enough, and +some of the jumping-Jacks were hardly as limber as they might +be as yet; that was all. As it was so near Christmas the Monks +were engaged in their holy exercises in the chapel for the greater +part of the time, and only went over the garden once a day to see +if everything was all right.</p> + +<p>The Prince and Peter were obliged to be there all the time. +There was plenty of work for them to do; for once in a while +something would blow over, and then there were the penny-trumpets +to keep in tune; and that was a vast sight of work.</p> + +<p>One morning the Prince was at one end of the garden +straightening up some wooden soldiers which had toppled over, +and Peter was in the wax doll bed dusting the dolls. All of a +sudden he heard a sweet little voice: "O, Peter!" He thought +at first one of the dolls was talking, but they could not say anything +but papa and mamma; and had the merest apologies for +voices anyway. "Here I am, Peter!" and there was a little pull +at his sleeve. There was his little sister. She was not any taller +than the dolls around her, and looked uncommonly like the prettiest, +pinkest-cheeked, yellowest-haired ones; so it was no wonder +that Peter did not see her at first. She stood there poising herself +on her crutches, poor little thing, and smiling lovingly up +at Peter.</p> + +<p>"Oh, you darling!" cried Peter, catching her up in his arms. +"How did you get in here?"</p> + +<p>"I stole in behind one of the Monks," said she. "I saw him +going up the street past our house, and I ran out and kept behind +him all the way. When he opened the gate I whisked in too, +and then I followed him into the garden. I've been here with +the dollies ever since."</p> + +<p>"Well," said poor Peter, "I don't see what I am going to +do with you, now you are here. I can't let you out again; and +I don't know what the Monks will say."</p> + +<p>"Oh, I know!" cried the little girl gayly. "I'll stay out +here in the garden. I can sleep in one of those beautiful dolls' +cradles over there; and you can bring me something to eat."</p> + +<div class="figleft" style="width:60%;"><a href="images/20.png"><img width="100%" src="images/20.png" alt="The boys at work in the Convent Garden." /></a></div> + +<p>"But the Monks come out every morning to look over the +garden, and they'll be +sure to find you," said her brother, anxiously.</p> + +<p>"No, I'll hide! O Peter, here is a place +where there isn't any doll!"</p> + +<p>"Yes; that doll did not come up."</p> + +<p>"Well, I'll tell you +what I'll do! I'll just +stand here in this place +where the doll didn't +come up, and nobody +can tell the difference."</p> + +<p>"Well, I don't know but you can do that," +said Peter, although he +was still ill at ease. He +was so good a boy he was very much afraid of doing wrong, +and offending his kind friends the Monks; at the same time he +could not help being glad to see his dear little sister.</p> + +<p>He smuggled some food out to her, and she played merrily +about him all day; and at night he tucked her into one of the +dolls' cradles with lace pillows and quilt of rose-colored silk.</p> + +<p>The next morning when the Monks were going the rounds, +the father who inspected the wax doll bed was a bit nearsighted, +and he never noticed the difference between the dolls and Peter's +little sister, who swung herself on her crutches, and looked just +as much like a wax doll as she possibly could. So the two were +delighted with the success of their plan.</p> + +<p>They went on thus for a few days, and Peter could not help +being happy with his darling little sister, although at the same +time he could not help worrying for fear he was doing wrong.</p> + +<p>Something else happened now, which made him worry still +more; the Prince ran away. He had been watching for a long +time for an opportunity to possess himself of a certain long ladder +made of twisted evergreen ropes, which the Monks kept +locked up in the toolhouse. Lately, by some oversight, the toolhouse +had been left unlocked one day, and the Prince got the +ladder. It was the latter part of the afternoon, and the Christmas +Monks were all in the chapel practicing Christmas carols. +The Prince found a very large hamper, and picked as many +Christmas presents for himself as he could stuff into it; then he +put the ladder against the high gate in front of the convent, and +climbed up, dragging the hamper after him. When he reached +the top of the gate, which was quite broad, he sat down to rest +for a moment before pulling the ladder up so as to drop it on +the other side.</p> + +<p>He gave his feet a little triumphant kick as he looked back +at his prison, and down slid the evergreen ladder! The Prince +lost his balance, and would inevitably have broken his neck if +he had not clung desperately to the hamper which hung over +on the convent side of the fence; and as it was just the same +weight as the Prince, it kept him suspended on the other.</p> + +<p>He screamed with all the force of his royal lungs; was +heard by a party of noblemen who were galloping up the street; +was rescued, and carried in state to the palace. But he was +obliged to drop the hamper of presents, for with it all the ingenuity +of the noblemen could not rescue him as speedily as it was +necessary they should.</p> + +<p>When the good Monks discovered the escape of the Prince +they were greatly grieved, for they had tried their best to do +well by him; and poor Peter could with difficulty be comforted. +He had been very fond of the Prince, although the latter had +done little except torment him for the whole year; but Peter +had a way of being fond of folks.</p> + +<p>A few days after the Prince ran away, and the day before +the one on which the Christmas presents were to be gathered, +the nearsighted father went out into the wax doll field again; +but this time he had his spectacles on, and could see just as well +as any one, and even a little better. Peter's little sister was +swinging herself on her crutches, in the place where the wax +doll did not come up, tipping her little face up, and smiling just +like the dolls around her.</p> + +<p>"Why, what is this!" said the father. "<i>Hoc credam!</i> I +thought that wax doll did not come up. Can my eyes deceive +me? <i>non verum est!</i> There is a doll there—and what a doll! on +crutches, and in poor, homely gear!"</p> + +<p>Then the nearsighted father put out his hand toward +Peter's little sister. She jumped—she could not help it, and the +holy father jumped too; the Christmas wreath actually tumbled +off his head.</p> + +<p>"It is a miracle!" exclaimed he when he could speak; "the +little girl is alive! <i>parra puella viva est.</i> I will pick her and +take her to the brethren, and we will pay her the honors she is +entitled to."</p> + +<p>Then the good father put on his Christmas wreath, for he +dare not venture before his abbot without it, picked up Peter's +little sister, who was trembling in all her little bones, and carried +her into the chapel, where the Monks were just assembling +to sing another carol. He went right up to the Christmas abbot, +who was seated in a splendid chair, and looked like a king.</p> + +<p>"Most holy abbot," said the nearsighted father, holding out +Peter's little sister, "behold a miracle, <i>vide miraculum</i>! Thou +wilt remember that there was one wax doll planted which did +not come up. Behold, in her place I have found this doll on +crutches, which is—alive!"</p> + +<p>"Let me see her!" said the abbot; and all the other Monks +crowded around, opening their mouths just like the little boys +around the notice, in order to see better.</p> + +<p>"<i>Verum est</i>," said the abbot. "It is verily a miracle."</p> + +<p>"Rather a lame miracle," said the brother who had charge +of the funny picture-books and the toy monkeys; they rather +threw his mind off its level of sobriety, and he was apt to make +frivolous speeches unbecoming a monk.</p> + +<p>The abbot gave him a reproving glance, and the brother, +who was the leach of the convent, came forward. "Let me look +at the miracle, most holy abbot," said he. He took up Peter's +sister, and looked carefully at the small, twisted ankle. "I think +I can cure this with my herbs and simples," said he.</p> + +<p>"But I don't know," said the abbot doubtfully. "I never +heard of curing a miracle."</p> + +<p>"If it is not lawful, my humble power will not suffice to +cure it," said the father who was the leach.</p> + +<p>"True," said the abbot; "take her, then, and exercise thy +healing art upon her, and we will go on with our Christmas +devotions, for which we should now feel all the more zeal."</p> + +<p>So the father took away Peter's little sister, who was still +too frightened to speak.</p> + +<p>The Christmas Monk was a wonderful doctor, for by +Christmas eve the little girl was completely cured of her lameness. +This may seem incredible, but it was owing in great part +to the herbs and simples, which are of a species that our doctors +have no knowledge of; and also to a wonderful lotion which +has never been advertised on our fences.</p> + +<p>Peter of course heard the talk about the miracle, and knew +at once what it meant. He was almost heartbroken to think he +was deceiving the Monks so, but at the same time he did not +dare to confess the truth for fear they would put a penance upon +his sister, and he could +not bear to think of her +having to kneel upon +dried peas.</p> + +<div class="figleft" style="width:60%;"><a href="images/24.png"><img width="100%" src="images/24.png" alt="The Prince Runs Away." /></a></div> + +<p>He worked hard +picking Christmas +presents, and hid his unhappiness +as best he +could. On Christmas +eve he was called into +the chapel. The Christmas +Monks were all assembled +there. The +walls were covered with +green garlands and +boughs and sprays of +holly berries, and branches of wax lights Were gleaming brightly +amongst them. The altar and the picture of the Blessed Child +behind it were so bright as to almost dazzle one; and right up +in the midst of it, in a lovely white dress, all wreaths and jewels, +in a little chair with a canopy woven of green branches over it, +sat Peter's little sister.</p> + +<p>And there were all the Christmas Monks in their white +robes and wreaths, going up in a long procession, with their +hands full of the very showiest Christmas presents to offer them +to her!</p> + +<p>But when they reached her and held out the lovely presents—the +first was an enchanting wax doll, the biggest beauty in the +whole garden—instead of reaching out her hands for them, she +just drew back, and said in her little sweet, piping voice: +"Please, I ain't a millacle, I'm only Peter's little sister."</p> + +<p>"Peter?" said the abbot; "the Peter who works in our garden?"</p> + +<p>"Yes," said the little sister.</p> + +<p>Now here was a fine opportunity for a whole convent full +of monks to look foolish—filing up in procession with their +hands full of gifts to offer to a miracle, and finding there was +no miracle, but only Peter's little sister.</p> + +<p>But the abbot of the Christmas Monks had always maintained +that there were two ways of looking at all things; if any +object was not what you wanted it to be in one light, that there +was another light in which it would be sure to meet your views.</p> + +<p>So now he brought this philosophy to bear.</p> + +<p>"This little girl did not come up in the place of the wax +doll, and she is not a miracle in that light," said he; "but look +at her in another light and she is a miracle—do you not see?"</p> + +<p>They all looked at her, the darling little girl, the very meaning +and sweetness of all Christmas in her loving, trusting, innocent +face.</p> + +<p>"Yes," said all the Christmas Monks, "she is a miracle." +And they all laid their beautiful Christmas presents down before +her.</p> + +<p>Peter was so delighted he hardly knew himself; and, oh! +the joy there was when he led his little sister home on Christmas-day, +and showed all the wonderful presents.</p> + +<p>The Christmas Monks always retained Peter in their employ—in +fact he is in their employ to this day. And his parents, +and his little sister who was entirely cured of her lameness, have +never wanted for anything.</p> + +<p>As for the Prince, the courtiers were never tired of discussing +and admiring his wonderful knowledge of physics which led +to his adjusting the weight of the hamper of Christmas presents +to his own so nicely that he could not fall. The Prince liked +the talk and the admiration well enough, but he could not help, +also, being a little glum; for he got no Christmas presents that +year.</p> + +<p class="author">MARY E. WILKINS.</p> + + + + +<div class="figcenter" style="width:100%;"><a href="images/27.png"><img width="100%" src="images/27.png" alt="" /></a></div> + +<h2>TEDDY AND THE ECHO.</h2> + + +<div class="poem"> <div class="stanza"> +<p><img width="10%" src="images/ltr-t.png" alt="[Illuminated letter] T" />eddy is out upon the lake;</p> +<p>His oars a softened click-clack make;</p> +<p>On all that water bright and blue,</p> +<p>His boat is the only one in view;</p> +<p>So, when he hears another oar</p> +<p>Click-clack along the farthest shore,</p> +<p>"Heigh-ho," he cries, "out for a row!</p> +<p>Echo is out! heigh-ho—heigh-ho!"</p> +<p class="i4">"Heigh-ho, heigh-ho!"</p> +<p>Sounds from the distance, faint and low.</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>Then Teddy whistles that he may hear</p> +<p>Her answering whistle, soft and clear;</p> +<p>Out of the greenwood, leafy, mute,</p> +<p>Pipes her mimicking, silver flute,</p> +<p>And, though her mellow measures are</p> +<p>Always behind him half a bar,</p> +<p>'Tis sweet to hear her falter so;</p> +<p>And Ted calls back, "Bravo, bravo!"</p> +<p class="i4">"Bravo, bravo!"</p> +<p>Comes from the distance, faint and low.</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>She laughs at trifles loud and long;</p> +<p>Splashes the water, sings a song;</p> +<p>Tells him everything she is told,</p> +<p>Saucy or tender, rough or bold;</p> +<p>One might think from the merry noise</p> +<p>That the quiet wood was full of boys,</p> +<p>Till Ted, grown tired, cries out, "Oh, no!</p> +<p>'Tis dinner time and I must go!"</p> +<p class="i4">"Must go? must go?"</p> +<p>Sighs from the distance, sad and low.</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>When Ted and his clatter are away,</p> +<p>Where does the little Echo stay?</p> +<p>Perched on a rock to watch for him?</p> +<p>Or keeping a lookout from some limb?</p> +<p>If he were to push his boat to land,</p> +<p>Would he find her footprint on the sand?</p> +<p>Or would she come to his blithe "hello,"</p> +<p>Red as a rose, or white as snow?</p> +<p class="i4">Ah no, ah no!</p> +<p>Never can Teddy see Echo!</p> + </div> </div> + +<p class="author">MRS. CLARA DOTY BATES.</p> + + + + +<h2>SONG OF THE CHRISTMAS STOCKINGS.</h2> + + +<div class="poem"> <div class="stanza"> +<p><img width="10%" src="images/ltr-s.png" alt="[Illuminated letter] S" />ix merry stockings in the firelight,</p> +<p>Hanging by the chimney snug and tight:</p> +<p class="i6">Jolly, jolly red,</p> +<p class="i6">That belongs to Ted;</p> +<p class="i6">Daintiest blue,</p> +<p class="i6">That belongs to Sue;</p> +<p class="i6">Old brown fellow</p> +<p class="i6">Hanging long,</p> +<p class="i6">That belongs to Joe,</p> +<p class="i6">Big and strong;</p> +<p class="i6">Little, wee, pink mite</p> +<p class="i6">Covers Baby's toes—</p> +<p class="i6">Won't she pull it open</p> +<p class="i6">With funny little crows!</p> +<p class="i6">Sober, dark gray,</p> +<p class="i6">Quiet little mouse,</p> +<p class="i6">That belongs to Sybil</p> +<p class="i6">Of all the house;</p> +<p class="i6">One stocking left,</p> +<p class="i6">Whose should it be?</p> +<p class="i6">Why, that I'm sure</p> +<p class="i6">Must belong to me!</p> +<p>Well, so they hang, packed to the brim,</p> +<p>Swing, swing, swing, in the firelight dim.</p> + </div> </div> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width:100%;"><a href="images/30.png"><img width="100%" src="images/30.png" alt="" /></a></div> + +<div class="poem"> <div class="stanza"> +<p class="i4">'Twas the middle of the night.</p> +<p class="i6">Open flew my eyes;</p> +<p class="i4">I started up in bed,</p> +<p class="i6">And stared in surprise;</p> +<p>I rubbed my eyes, I rubbed my ears,</p> +<p>I saw the stockings swing, I heard the stockings sing;</p> +<p class="i6">Out in the firelight</p> +<p class="i6">Merry and bright,</p> +<p class="i6">Snug and tight,</p> +<p class="i6">Six were swinging,</p> +<p class="i6">Six were singing,</p> +<p class="i6">Like everything!</p> +<p>And the red, and the blue, and the brown, and the gray,</p> +<p>And the pink one, and mine, had it all their own way,</p> +<p>And no one could stop them—because, don't you see,</p> +<p>Nobody heard 'em—but just poor me!</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p class="i2">"All day we carry toes,</p> +<p class="i4">To-night we carry candy;</p> +<p class="i2">Christmas comes once a year</p> +<p class="i4">Very nice and handy.</p> +<p>Run, run, race all day,</p> +<p>Mother mends us after play,</p> +<p>We don't care, life is gay,</p> +<p>Sing and swing, away, away!</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p class="i2">"Boots and little tired shoes,</p> +<p class="i4">We kick 'em off in glee;</p> +<p class="i2">It's fun to hang up here</p> +<p class="i4">And Santa Claus to see.</p> +<p>Run, run, race all day,</p> +<p>Mother mends us after play,</p> +<p>We don't care, life is gay,</p> +<p>Sing and swing, away, away!</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p class="i2">"To-morrow down we come,</p> +<p class="i2">The sweet things tumble out,</p> +<p class="i2">Then carrying toes again</p> +<p class="i2">We'll have to trot about.</p> +<p>Run, run, race all day,</p> +<p>Mother'll mend us after play,</p> +<p>We don't care, we'll swing so gay</p> +<p>While we can—away, away!"</p> + </div> </div> + +<p class="author">MARGARET SIDNEY.</p> + + + + +<h2>JOE LAMBERT'S FERRY.</h2> + + +<p><img width="10%" src="images/ltr-i.png" alt="[Illuminated letter] I" />t was a thoroughly disagreeable March morning. The +wind blew in sharp gusts from every quarter of the +compass by turns. It seemed to take especial delight in +rushing suddenly around corners and taking away the +breath of anybody it could catch there coming from the opposite +direction. The dust, too, filled people's eyes and noses and +mouths, while the damp raw March air easily found its way +through the best clothing, and turned boys' skins into pimply +goose-flesh.</p> + +<p>It was about as disagreeable a morning for going out as +can be imagined; and yet everybody in the little Western river +town who could get out went out and stayed out.</p> + +<p>Men and women, boys and girls, and even little children, +ran to the river-bank: and, once there, they stayed, with no +thought, it seemed, of going back to their homes or their work.</p> + +<p>The people of the town were wild with excitement, and +everybody told everybody else what had happened, although everybody +knew all about it already. Everybody, I mean, except Joe +Lambert, and he had been so busy ever since daylight, sawing +wood in Squire Grisard's woodshed, that he had neither seen nor +heard anything at all. Joe was the poorest person in the town. +He was the only boy there who really had no home and nobody +to care for him. Three or four years before this March morning, +Joe had been left an orphan, and being utterly destitute, he +should have been sent to the poorhouse, or "bound out" to some +person as a sort of servant. But Joe Lambert had refused to go +to the poorhouse or to become a bound boy. He had declared +his ability to take care of himself, and by working hard at odd +jobs, sawing wood, rolling barrels on the wharf, picking apples +or weeding onions as opportunity offered, he had managed to +support himself "after a manner," as the village people said. +That is to say, he generally got enough to eat, and some clothes +to wear. He slept in a warehouse shed, the owner having given +him leave to do so on condition that he would act as a sort of +watchman on the premises.</p> + +<p>Joe Lambert alone of all the villagers knew nothing of +what had happened; and of course Joe Lambert did not count +for anything in the estimation of people who had houses to live +in. The only reason I have gone out of the way to make an exception +of so unimportant a person is, that I think Joe did count +for something on that particular March day at least.</p> + +<p>When he finished the pile of wood that he had to saw, and +went to the house to get his money, he found nobody there. +Going down the street he found the town empty, and, looking +down a cross street, he saw the crowds that had gathered on the +river-bank, thus learning at last that something unusual had +occurred. Of course he ran to the river to learn what it was.</p> + +<p>When he got there he learned that Noah Martin the fisherman +who was also the ferryman between the village and its +neighbor on the other side of the river, had been drowned during +the early morning in a foolish attempt to row his ferry skiff +across the stream. The ice which had blocked the river for two +months, had begun to move on the day before, and Martin with +his wife and baby—a child about a year old—were on the other +side of the river at the time. Early on that morning there had +been a temporary gorging of the ice about a mile above the town, +and, taking advantage of the comparatively free channel, Martin +had tried to cross with his wife and child, in his boat.</p> + +<p>The gorge had broken up almost immediately, as the river +was rising rapidly, and Martin's boat had been caught and +crushed in the ice. Martin had been drowned, but his wife, with +her child in her arms, had clung to the wreck of the skiff, and +had been carried by the current to a little low-lying island just +in front of the town.</p> + +<p>What had happened was of less importance, however, than +what people saw must happen. The poor woman and baby out +there on the island, drenched as they had been in the icy water, +must soon die with cold, and, moreover, the island was now +nearly under water, while the great stream was rising rapidly. +It was evident that within an hour or two the water would sweep +over the whole surface of the island, and the great fields of ice +would of course carry the woman and child to a terrible death.</p> + +<p>Many wild suggestions were made for their rescue, but +none that gave the least hope of success. It was simply impossible +to launch a boat. The vast fields of ice, two or three feet +in thickness, and from twenty feet to a hundred yards in breadth, +were crushing and grinding down the river at the rate of four +or five miles an hour, turning and twisting about, sometimes +jamming their edges together with so great a force that one +would lap over another, and sometimes drifting apart and leaving +wide open spaces between for a moment or two. One might +as well go upon such a river in an egg shell as in the stoutest row-boat +ever built.</p> + +<p>The poor woman with her babe could be seen from the +shore, standing there alone on the rapidly narrowing strip of +island. Her voice could not reach the people on the bank, but +when she held her poor little baby toward them in mute appeal +for help, the mothers there understood her agony.</p> + +<p>There was nothing to be done, however. Human sympathy +was given freely, but human help was out of the question. Everybody +on the river-shore was agreed in that opinion. Everybody, +that is to say, except Joe Lambert. He had been so long in the +habit of finding ways to help himself under difficulties, that he +did not easily make up his mind to think any case hopeless.</p> + +<p>No sooner did Joe clearly understand how matters stood +than he ran away from the crowd, nobody paying any attention to +what he did. Half an hour later somebody cried out: "Look +there! Who's that, and what's he going to do?" pointing up the +stream.</p> + +<p>Looking in that direction, the people saw some one three +quarters of a mile away standing on a floating field of ice in the +river. He had a large farm-basket strapped upon his shoulders, +while in his hands he held a plank.</p> + +<p>As the ice-field upon which he stood neared another, the +youth ran forward, threw his plank down, making a bridge of it, +and crossed to the farther field. Then picking up his plank, he +waited for a chance to repeat the process.</p> + +<p>As he thus drifted down the river, every eye was strained in +his direction. Presently some one cried out: "It's Joe Lambert; +and he's trying to cross to the island!"</p> + +<p>There was a shout as the people understood the nature of +Joe's heroic attempt, and then a hush as its extreme danger became +apparent.</p> + +<p>Joe had laid his plans wisely and well, but it seemed impossible +that he could succeed. His purpose was, with the aid of +the plank to cross from one ice-field to another until he should +reach the island; but as that would require a good deal of time, +and the ice was moving down stream pretty rapidly, it was +necessary to start at a point above the town. Joe had gone about +a mile up the river before going on the ice, and when first seen +from the town he had already reached the channel.</p> + +<p>After that first shout a whisper might have been heard in +the crowd on the bank. The heroism of the poor boy's attempt +awed the spectators, and the momentary expectation that he +would disappear forever amid the crushing ice-fields, made +them hold their breath in anxiety and terror.</p> + +<p>His greatest danger was from the smaller cakes of ice. +When it became necessary for him to step upon one of these, his +weight was sufficient to make it tilt, and his footing was very +insecure. After awhile as he was nearing the island, he came +into a large collection of these smaller ice-cakes. For awhile he +waited, hoping that a larger field would drift near him; but +after a minute's delay he saw that he was rapidly floating past +the island, and that he must either trust himself to the treacherous +broken ice, or fail in his attempt to save the woman and +child.</p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width:100%;"><a href="images/36.png"><img width="100%" src="images/36.png" alt="Joe Saves Mrs. Martin and Baby Martin." /></a><span class="sc">Joe Saves Mrs. Martin and Baby Martin.</span></div> + +<p>Choosing the best of the floes, he laid his plank and passed +across successfully. In the next passage, however, the cake tilted +up, and Joe Lambert went down into the water! A shudder +passed through the crowd on shore.</p> + +<p>"Poor fellow!" exclaimed some tender-hearted spectator; +"it is all over with him now."</p> + +<p>"No; look, look!" shouted another. "He's trying to climb +upon the ice. Hurrah! he's on his feet again!" With that the +whole company of spectators shouted for joy.</p> + +<p>Joe had managed to regain his plank as well as to climb +upon a cake of ice before the fields around could crush him, and +now moving cautiously, he made his way, little by little toward +the island.</p> + +<p>"Hurrah! Hurrah! he's there at last!" shouted the people +on the shore.</p> + +<p>"But will he get back again?" was the question each one +asked himself a moment later.</p> + +<p>Having reached the island, Joe very well knew that the +more difficult part of his task was still before him, for it was one +thing for an active boy to work his way over floating ice, and +quite another to carry a child and lead a woman upon a similar +journey.</p> + +<p>But Joe Lambert was quick-witted and "long-headed," as +well as brave, and he meant to do all that he could to save these +poor creatures for whom he had risked his life so heroically. +Taking out his knife he made the woman cut her skirts off at the +knees, so that she might walk and leap more freely. Then placing +the baby in the basket which was strapped upon his back, he +cautioned the woman against giving way to fright, and instructed +her carefully about the method of crossing.</p> + +<p>On the return journey Joe was able to avoid one great risk. +As it was not necessary to land at any particular point, time was +of little consequence, and hence when no large field of ice was +at hand, he could wait for one to approach, without attempting +to make use of the smaller ones. Leading the woman wherever +that was necessary, he slowly made his way toward shore, drifting +down the river, of course, while all the people of the town +marched along the bank.</p> + +<p>When at last Joe leaped ashore in company with the woman, +and bearing her babe in the basket on his back, the people seemed +ready to trample upon each other in their eagerness to shake +hands with their hero.</p> + +<p>Their hero was barely able to stand, however. Drenched +as he had been in the icy river, the sharp March wind had chilled +him to the marrow, and one of the village doctors speedily lifted +him into his carriage which he had brought for that purpose, and +drove rapidly away, while the other physician took charge of +Mrs. Martin and the baby.</p> + +<p>Joe was a strong, healthy fellow, and under the doctor's +treatment of hot brandy and vigorous rubbing with coarse +towels, he soon warmed. Then he wanted to saw enough wood +for the doctor to pay for his treatment, and thereupon the doctor +threatened to poison him if he should ever venture to mention +pay to him again.</p> + +<p>Naturally enough the village people talked of nothing but +Joe Lambert's heroic deed, and the feeling was general that they +had never done their duty toward the poor orphan boy. There +was an eager wish to help him now, and many offers were made +to him; but these all took the form of charity, and Joe would not +accept charity at all. Four years earlier, as I have already said, +he had refused to go to the poorhouse or to be "bound out," +declaring that he could take care of himself; and when some +thoughtless person had said in his hearing that he would have to +live on charity, Joe's reply had been:</p> + +<p>"I'll never eat a mouthful in this town that I haven't worked +for if I starve." And he had kept his word. Now that he was +fifteen years old he was not willing to begin receiving charity +even in the form of a reward for his good deed.</p> + +<p>One day when some of the most prominent men of the village +were talking to him on the subject Joe said:</p> + +<p>"I don't want anything except a chance to work, but I'll tell +you what you may do for me if you will. Now that poor Martin +is dead the ferry privilege will be to lease again, I'd like to +get it for a good long term. Maybe I can make something out of +it by being always ready to row people across, and I may even +be able to put on something better than a skiff after awhile. I'll +pay the village what Martin paid."</p> + +<p>The gentlemen were glad enough of a chance to do Joe even +this small favor, and there was no difficulty in the way. The +authorities gladly granted Joe a lease of the ferry privilege for +twenty years, at twenty dollars a year rent, which was the rate +Martin had paid.</p> + +<p>At first Joe rowed people back and forth, saving what +money he got very carefully. This was all that could be required +of him, but it occurred to Joe that if he had a ferry boat big +enough, a good many horses and cattle and a good deal of freight +would be sent across the river, for he was a "long-headed" fellow +as I have said.</p> + +<p>One day a chance offered, and he bought for twenty-five +dollars a large old wood boat, which was simply a square barge +forty feet long and fifteen feet wide, with bevelled bow and +stern, made to hold cord wood for the steamboats. With his +own hands he laid a stout deck on this, and, with the assistance +of a man whom he hired for that purpose, he constructed a pair +of paddle wheels. By that time Joe was out of money, and work +on the boat was suspended for awhile. When he had accumulated +a little more money, he bought a horse power, and placed +it in the middle of his boat, connecting it with the shaft of his +wheels. Then he made a rudder and helm, and his horse-boat +was ready for use. It had cost him about a hundred dollars besides +his own labor upon it, but it would carry live stock and +freight as well as passengers, and so the business of the ferry +rapidly increased, and Joe began to put a little money away in +the bank.</p> + +<p>After awhile a railroad was built into the village, and then +a second one came. A year later another railroad was opened on +the other side of the river, and all the passengers who came to +one village by rail had to be ferried across the river in order to +continue their journey by the railroads there. The horse-boat +was too small and too slow for the business, and Joe Lambert +had to buy two steam ferry-boats to take its place. These cost +more money than he had, but, as the owner of the ferry privilege, +his credit was good, and the boats soon paid for themselves, +while Joe's bank account grew again.</p> + +<p>Finally the railroad people determined to run through cars +for passengers and freight, and to carry them across the river on +large boats built for that purpose; but before they gave their +orders to their boat builders, they were waited upon by the attorneys +of Joe Lambert, who soon convinced them that his ferry +privilege gave him alone the right to run any kind of ferry-boats +between the two villages which had now grown to such size that +they called themselves cities. The result was that the railroads +made a contract with Joe to carry their cars across, and he had +some large boats built for that purpose.</p> + +<p>All this occurred a good many years ago, and Joe Lambert +is not called Joe now, but Captain Lambert. He is one of the +most prosperous men in the little river city, and owns many large +river steamers besides his ferry-boats. Nobody is readier than he +to help a poor boy or a poor man; but he has his own way of +doing it. He will never toss so much as a cent to a beggar, but +he never refuses to give man or boy a chance to earn money by +work. He has an odd theory that money which comes without +work does more harm than good.</p> + +<p class="author">GEORGE CARY EGGLESTON.</p> + + + + +<h2>THE CHRISTMAS GIFT.</h2> + + +<div class="poem"> <div class="stanza"> +<p><img width="10%" src="images/ltr-o.png" alt="[Illuminated letter] O" /> you dear little dog, all eyes and fluff!</p> +<p>How can I ever love you enough?</p> +<p>How was it, I wonder, that any one knew</p> +<p>I wanted a little dog, just like you?</p> +<p>With your jet black nose, and each sharp-cut ear,</p> +<p>And the tail you wag—O you <i>are</i> so dear!</p> +<p>Did you come trotting through all the snow</p> +<p>To find my door, I should like to know?</p> +<p>Or did you ride with the fairy team</p> +<p>Of Santa Claus, of which children dream,</p> +<p>Tucked all up in the furs so warm,</p> +<p>Driving like mad over village and farm,</p> +<p>O'er the country drear, o'er the city towers,</p> +<p>Until you stopped at this house of ours?</p> +<p>Did you think 'twas a little girl like me</p> +<p>You were coming so fast thro' the snow to see?</p> +<p>Well, whatever way you happened here,</p> +<p>You are my pet and my treasure dear—</p> +<p><i>Such</i> a Christmas present! O such a joy!</p> +<p>Better than any kind of a toy!</p> +<p>Something that eats and drinks and walks,</p> +<p>And looks so lovely and <i>almost</i> talks;</p> +<p>With a face so comical and wise,</p> +<p>And such a pair of bright brown eyes!</p> +<p>I'll tell you something: The other day</p> +<p>I heard papa to my mamma say</p> +<p>Very softly, "I really fear</p> +<p>Our baby may be quite spoiled, my dear,</p> +<p>We've made of our darling such a pet,</p> +<p>I think the little one may forget</p> +<p>There's any creature beneath the sun</p> +<p>Beside herself to waste thought upon."</p> +<p>I'm going to show him what I can do</p> +<p>For a dumb little helpless thing like you.</p> +<p>I'll not be selfish and slight you, dear;</p> +<p>Whenever I can I shall keep you near.</p> + </div> </div> + +<p class="author">CELIA THAXTER.</p> + + + + +<h2>SOME EDUCATED HORSES.</h2> + + +<div class="figleft" style="width:30%;"><a href="images/43.png"><img width="100%" src="images/43.png" alt="A NOD OF GREETING." /></a>A NOD OF GREETING.</div> + +<p><img width="10%" src="images/ltr-o.png" alt="[Illuminated letter] O" />ne of the most pleasing of modern +English authors, Philip Gilbert +Hamerton, who is an artist +as well as writer, and who loves animals +almost as he does art, says that it would +be interesting for a man to live permanently +in a large hall into which three or four horses, of a race +already intelligent, should be allowed to go and come freely +from the time they were born, just as dogs do in a family where +they are pets, or something to that effect. They should have +full liberty to poke their noses in their master's face, or lay their +heads on his shoulder at meal-time, receiving their treat of lettuce +or sugar or bread, only they must understand that they +would be punished if they knocked off the vases or upset furniture, +or did other mischief. He would like to see this tried, and +see what would come of it; what intelligence a horse would +develop, and what love.</p> + +<p>The plan looks quixotic, does it not? But one thing you +may be sure of; he might have worse associates. There are +grades of intellect—we will call it intellect, for it comes very +near, <i>so</i> near that we never can know just where the fine shading +off begins between a horse's brain and that of a man; and there +are warm, loving equine hearts. Many horses are superior to +many men; nobler, more honorable, quicker-witted, more loyal, +and a thousand times more companionable. Would you not +rather, if you had to live on Robinson Crusoe's island, have an +intelligent, sympathetic horse and a devoted +bright dog than some people you +know? One is inclined to favor Hamerton's +notion after seeing the Bartholomew +Educated Horses, who can do almost anything +but speak.</p> + +<div class="figright" style="width:30%;"><a href="images/44-1.png"><img width="100%" src="images/44-1.png" alt="BUCEPHALUS TAKES THE HAT." /></a>BUCEPHALUS TAKES THE HAT.</div> + +<p>I am writing this for boys and girls +who love animals, and for those elderly people who are fond +of them too, including the lady whom I overheard saying that +she had been nine times to see the remarkable exhibition. The +young folks were enthusiastic patrons of that little theatre in +Boston, where for more than a hundred afternoons and evenings +the "Professor," as he was called, showed off his four-footed +pupils. One forenoon he set apart for a free entertainment of as +many poor children as the house would hold, who went under the +charge of the truant officers and had an overwhelming good time.</p> + +<p>There were sixteen of the animals, counting a donkey; grays, +bays, chestnut-colored beauties, and one who looked buff in the +gaslight. In recalling them, I cannot say that there was a white-footed +one. What consequence about white feet, you ask! Perhaps +you know that they make that of some account in the horse +bazaars of the East. The Turks say "two white fore feet are +lucky; one white fore and hind foot are unlucky;" and they have +a rhyme that runs—</p> + +<div class="poem"> <div class="stanza"> +<p>One white foot, buy a horse,</p> +<p>Two white feet, try a horse,</p> +<p>Three white feet, look well about him,</p> +<p>Four white feet, do without him.</p> + </div> </div> + +<div class="figleft" style="width:30%;"><a href="images/44-2.png"><img width="100%" src="images/44-2.png" alt="THE CHAIR IS BROUGHT." /></a>THE CHAIR IS BROUGHT.</div> + +<p>They were all named. There was a Chevalier, a Prince, +and a Pope; a little pet, Miss Nellie, who looked as if she would +be ready to drink tea out of your saucer and kiss you after her +fashion; Mustang, an irrepressible and rude savage from the +Rio Grande region; Brutus, Cæsar, and Draco; a Broncho +beauty; a Sprite; a stately stepping Abdallah; Jim, who was a +character; and a Bucephalus, after that storied steed who would +suffer no one to ride but his master, the Great Alexander, but +for him to mount, would kneel and wait.</p> + +<p>It is perhaps needless and an insult to their intelligence for +me to say that they all know their own names as well as you +know yours. They know, too, their numbers when they are acting +as soldiers formed in line waiting orders; the Professor +passes along and checking them off with his forefinger numbers +them, then falling back, calls out for certain ones to form into +platoons, and they make no mistake. Their ears are alert, their +senses sharp, their memory good. "Number Two," "Number +Four," and so on, answer by advancing, as a soldier would respond +to the roll-call.</p> + +<p>They came around from the stable an hour before the performance +and went up the stairs by which the audience went; +and a crowd used to gather every afternoon and +evening to see that remarkable and free feat.</p> + +<div class="figright" style="width:25%;"><a href="images/45.png"><img width="100%" src="images/45.png" alt="PRINCE." /></a>PRINCE.</div> + +<p>When the curtain rose there was to be seen +a small stage carpeted ankle deep with saw-dust, +where Professor Bartholomew purposed to have +his horses act; first the part of a school, then of a +court room, last a military drill and taking of a fort. They +came in one after another, pretending, if that is not too strong a +word, that they were on the way to school, and that was the playground; +and there they played together, with such soft, graceful +action, such caressing ways, and trippings as dainty as in +"Pinafore," until at the ringing of a bell they came at once to +order from their mixed-up, mazy pastime, and waited the arrival +of their teacher, the Professor, who entered with a schoolmaster +air, and gave the order.</p> + +<p>"Bucephalus, take my hat, and bring me a chair!" as you +might tell James or John to do the +same, and with more promptness than +they would have shown, Bucephalus +came forward, took the hat between +his teeth, carried it across the stage and +placed it on a desk, +and brought a chair.</p> + +<div class="figleft" style="width:65%;"><a href="images/46.png"><img width="100%" src="images/46.png" alt="SPRITE AS A MATHEMATICIAN." /></a>SPRITE AS A MATHEMATICIAN.</div> + +<p>The master, seating +himself, began +the business of the +day, saying, "The +school will now form +two classes; the large +scholars will go to +the left, the small ones to the right;" and six magnificent creatures +separated themselves from the group huddled together and +went as they were bid, while Nellie, the mustang, and other little +ones, filed off to the opposite side, and placed themselves in a +row, with their heads turned away from the stage. And there +they remained, generally minding their business, though sometimes +one would get out of position, look around, or give his +neighbor a nudge which brought out a reprimand: "Pope, +what are you doing?" "Brutus, you need not look around to see +what I am about!" "Sprite, you let Mustang alone!" "Mustang, +keep in your place!"</p> + +<p>He then called for some one to come forward and be monitor, +and Prince volunteered, was sent to the desk for some +papers, tried to raise the lid, and let it drop, pretending that he +couldn't, but after +being sharply asked +what he was so careless +for, did it, and +then brought a handkerchief +and made a +great ado about +wanting to have +something done with +it, which proved to +be tying it around his leg. Meanwhile one of the horses behaved +badly, whereupon the teacher said, "I see you are booked for a +whipping," and the culprit came out in the floor, straightened +himself, and received without wincing what seemed to be a +severe whipping; but in reality it was all done with a soft cotton +snapper, which made more sound than anything else.</p> + +<div class="figleft" style="width:65%;"><a href="images/47.png"><img width="100%" src="images/47.png" alt="ABDALLAH PACES." /></a>ABDALLAH PACES.</div> + +<p>Mustang was called upon to ring the bell, a good-sized +dinner-bell, for the blackboard exercises by Sprite. He, too, +made believe he couldn't, seized it the wrong way, dropped it, +picked it up wrong end first, was scolded at, then took it by the +handle, gave it a vigorous shake, and after letting it fall several +times, set it on the table. Meanwhile a platform was brought in +supporting a tall post, at the top of which, higher than a horse +could reach, was a blackboard having chalked on it a sum which +was not added up correctly. Sprite, being requested to wipe it +out, took the sponge from the table, and planting her fore-feet +on the platform, stretched her head up, and by desperate passes +succeeded in wiping out a part of the figures, and started to leave, +but seeing that some remained, went back and erased them.</p> + +<p>One day she went through a process which showed conclusively +that horses can reason. She dropped the sponge the first +thing, and it fell down behind the platform out of her sight. +She got down, and looked about in the saw-dust for it, the audience +curiously watching to see what she would do next. She was +evidently much perplexed. She knew perfectly well that her +duty would not be fulfilled until she had rubbed the figures out, +and the sponge was not to be found. Mr. Bartholomew said +nothing, gave her no look or hint or sign to help her out of her +predicament, but sat in his chair and waited. At last she deliberately +stepped on the platform again, stretched her head up and +wiped the figures out with her mouth, at which the audience +applauded as if they would bring the roof down. That was +something clearly not in the programme, but a bit of independent +reasoning. Yet, having done so much, she knew that something +was not right. About that sponge—what had become of +it? It was her business to lay it on the table when she was +through using it. She hesitated, looked this way and that, started +to go, came back, dreadfully puzzled and uncertain, suddenly +spied it, set her teeth in it, put it on the table, and went to her +place, with a clear conscience, no doubt, and the people cheered +more wildly than before.</p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width:85%;"><a href="images/48.png"><img width="100%" src="images/48.png" alt="A GAME OF LEAP-FROG." /></a>A GAME OF LEAP-FROG.</div> + +<p>This was to me one of the most interesting things I witnessed; +and connecting it with some facts Mr. Bartholomew +communicated, it +was doubly so.</p> + +<div class="figleft" style="width:65%;"><a href="images/49.png"><img width="100%" src="images/49.png" alt="NELLIE ROLLS THE BARREL OVER THE 'TETER.'" /></a>NELLIE ROLLS THE BARREL OVER THE "TETER."</div> + +<p>He said that it +was his practice not +to interfere or help; +the horse knew just +what she was to do, +and he preferred to +wait and let her think it out for herself. The other horses all +knew too if there was any failure or mistake, and the offender +was closely watched by them, and in some way reproved by them +if they could get the opportunity, and at times this little by-play +became very amusing.</p> + +<p>After this was most exquisite dancing by Bucephalus, and +by Cæsar, whose steppings were in perfect rhythm to the music. +Then the latter turned in a circle to the right or the left and +walked around defining the figure eight, just as any one in the +audience chose to request; and Abdallah came in with a string +of bells around her, and paced, cantered, galloped, trotted, +marched or walked as the word was given. The horses were +generally expected to come to the footlights and bow to the audience +at the close of any feat; occasionally one would forget to +do this, and then some of his comrades would shoulder or buffet +him, or Mr. Bartholomew would give a reminder, "That is not +all, is it?" and back would come the delinquent, and bow and +bow twenty times as fast as he could, as if there could not be +enough of it. At the close of one scene all the horses came up +to the front in a line, and leaning over the rope which was +stretched there to keep them from coming down on the people's +heads, would bow, and bow again, and it was a wonderfully +pretty sight to see.</p> + +<p>A game of leap frog was announced. "There are four of +the horses that jump," said Mr. Bartholomew. They like this +least of any of their +feats, and those who +can do it best are +most timid. At first +one horse is jumped +over, then two, three, +are packed closely together, and little Sprite clears them all at +one flying leap, broad-backed and much taller than herself +though they are. Those who do not want to try it beg off by a +pretty pantomime, and Sprite is encouraged by her master, who +pats her first and seems to be saying something in her ear. They +like to get approval in the way of a caress, but beyond that they +are in no way rewarded.</p> + +<div class="figleft" style="width:65%;"><a href="images/50.png"><img width="100%" src="images/50.png" alt="PRINCE AND POPE PLAY AT SEE-SAW." /></a>PRINCE AND POPE PLAY AT SEE-SAW.</div> + +<p>Next Nellie rolled a barrel over a "teter plank" with her +fore-feet, and Prince and Pope performed the difficult feat, and +one which required mutual understanding and confidence, of +see-sawing away up in air on the plank; first face to face, carefully +balancing, and then the latter slowly turned on the space +less than twenty inches wide, without disturbing the delicate +poise. This he considers one of the most remarkable, because +each horse must act with reference to the other, and the understanding +between them must be so perfect that no fatal false +movement can be made.</p> + +<p>One of the grand tableaux represents a court scene with the +donkey set up in a high place for judge, the jury passing around +from mouth to mouth a placard labelled "Not Guilty," and the +releasing of the prisoner from his chain. But the military drill +exceeds all else by the brilliance of the display and the inspiring +movements and martial air. Mr. Bartholomew in military uniform +advancing like a general, disciplined twelve horses who +came in at bugle call, with a crimson band about their bodies +and other decorations, and went through evolutions, marchings, +counter-marchings, in single file, by twos, in platoons, forming +a hollow square with the precision of old soldiers. They liked +it too, and were proud of themselves as they stepped to the music. +The final act was a furious charge on a fort, the horses firing +cannon, till in smoke and flame, to the sound of patriotic strains, +the structure was demolished, the country's flag was saved, +caught up by one horse, seized by another, waved, passed around, +and amidst the excitement and confusion of a great victory, triumphant +horses rushing about, the curtain fell.</p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width:100%;"><a href="images/51.png"><img width="100%" src="images/51.png" alt="THE GREAT COURT SCENE." /></a>THE GREAT COURT SCENE.</div> + +<p>It was from first to last a wonderful exhibition of horse +intelligence.</p> + +<p>Trained horses, that is, trained for circus feats at given signals, +are no novelty. Away back in the reign of one of the +Stuarts, a horse named Morocco was exhibited in England, +though his tricks were only as the alphabet to what is done now. +And long before Rarey's day, there was here and there a man +who had a sort of magnetic influence, and could tame a vicious +horse whom nobody else dared go near. When George the +Fourth was Prince of Wales, he had a valuable Egyptian horse +who would throw, they said, the best rider in the world. Even +if a man could succeed in getting on his back, it was not an instant +he could stay there. But there came to England on a visit +a distinguished Eastern bey, with his mamelukes, who, hearing +of the matter which was the talk of the town, declared that the +animal should be ridden. Accordingly many royal personages +and noblemen met the Orientals at the riding house of the +Prince, in Pall Mall, a mameluke's saddle was put on the vicious +creature, who was led in, looking in a white heat of fury, wicked, +with danger in his eyes, when, behold, the bey's chief officer +sprung on his back and rode for half an hour as easily as a lady +would amble on the most spiritless pony that ever was bridled.</p> + +<div class="figleft" style="width:30%;"><a href="images/52.png"><img width="100%" src="images/52.png" alt="STRETCHING HIMSELF." /></a>STRETCHING HIMSELF.</div> + +<p>Some men have a tact, a way with animals, and can do anything +with them. It is a born gift, a rare +one, and a precious one. There was a +certain tamer of lions and tigers, Henri +Marten by name, who lately died at the +age of ninety, who tamed by his personal +influence alone. It was said of him in France, that at the head +of an army he "might have been a Bonaparte. Chance has made +a man of genius a director of a menagerie."</p> + +<p>Professor Bartholomew was ready to talk about his way, +but a part of it is the man himself. He could not make known +to another what is the most essential requisite. He, too, brought +genius to his work; besides that, a certain indefinable mastership +which animals recognize, love for them, and a vast amount of +perseverance and patient waiting. It is a thing that is not done +in a day.</p> + +<p>He was fond of horses from a boy, and began early to educate +one, having a remarkable faculty for handling them; so +that now, after thirty years of it, there is not much about the +equine nature that he does not understand. He trained a company +of Bronchos, which were afterwards sold; and since then +he has gradually got together the fifteen he now exhibits, and +he has others in process of training. He took these when they +were young, two or three years old; and not one of them, except +Jim, who has a bit of outside history, has ever been used in any +other way. They know nothing about carriages or carts, harness +or saddle; they have escaped the cruel curb-bits, the check +reins and blinders of our civilization. Fortunate in that respect. +And they never have had a shoe on their feet. Their feet are +perfect, firm and sound, strong and healthy and elastic; natural, +like those of the Indians, who run barefoot, who go over the +rough places of the wilds as easily as these horses can run up the +stairs or over the cobble stones of the pavement if they were +turned loose in the street.</p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width:100%;"><a href="images/53.png"><img width="100%" src="images/53.png" alt="MILITARY DRILL." /></a>MILITARY DRILL.</div> + +<p>It was a pleasure to know of their life-long exemption from +all such restraints. That accounted in great measure for their +beautiful freedom of motion, for that wondrous grace and charm. +Did you ever think what a complexity of muscles, bones, joints, +tendons and other arrangements, enter into the formation of the +knees, hoofs, legs of a horse; what a piece of mechanism the +strong, supple creature is?</p> + +<p>These have never had their spirits broken; have never been +scolded at or struck except when a whip was necessary as a rod +sometimes is for a child. The hostlers who take care of them +are not allowed to speak roughly. "Be low-spoken to them," the +master says. In the years when he was educating them he +groomed and cared for them himself, with no other help except +that of his two little sons. No one else was allowed to meddle +with them; and, necessarily, they were kept separate from other +horses. Now, wherever they are exhibiting, he always goes out +the first thing in the morning to see them. He passes from one +to another, and they are all expecting the little love pats and +slaps on their glossy sides, the caressings and fondlings and pleasant +greetings of "Chevalier, how are you, old fellow?" "Abdallah, +my beauty," and, "Nellie, my pet!" Some are jealous, +Abdallah tremendously so, and if he does not at once notice her, +she lays her ears back, shows temper, and crowds up to him, +determined that no other shall have precedence.</p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width:100%;"><a href="images/54.png"><img width="100%" src="images/54.png" alt="A PRETTY TABLEAU." /></a>A PRETTY TABLEAU.</div> + +<p>They are not "thorough-breds." Those, he said, were for +racers or travellers; yet of fine breeds, some choice blood horses, +some mixed, one a mustang, who at first did not know anything +that was wanted of him.</p> + +<p>"Why," said he, "at first some of them would go up like pop +corn, higher than my head. But I never once have been injured +by one of them except perhaps an accidental stepping on my foot. +They never kick; they don't know how to kick. You can go behind +them as well as before, and anywhere."</p> + +<p>In buying he chose only those whose looks showed that they +were intelligent. "But how did he know, by what signs?" queried +an all-absorbed "Dumb Animals" woman.</p> + +<p>"Oh, dear," he said, "why, every way; the eyes, the ears, the +whole face, the expression, everything. No two horses' faces +look alike. Just as it is with a flock of sheep. A stranger would +say, 'Why, they are all sheep, and all alike, and that is all there +is to it;' but the owner knows better; he knows every face in the +flock. He says, 'this is Jenny, and that is Dolly, there is Jim, +and here's Nancy.' Oh, land, yes! they are no more alike than +human beings are, disposition or anything. Some have to be +ordered, and some coaxed and flattered. Yes, flattered. Now if +two men come and want to work for me, I can tell as soon as I +cast my eyes on them. I say to one, 'Go and do such a thing;' +but if I said it to the other, he'd answer 'I won't; I'm not going +to be ordered about by any man.' Horses are just like that. A +horse can read you. If you get mad, he will. If you abuse him, +he will do the same by you, or try to. You must control yourself, +if you would control a horse."</p> + +<p>They must be of superior grade, "for it's of no use to spend +one's time on a dull one. It does not pay to teach idiots where +you want brilliant results, though all well enough for a certain +purpose."</p> + +<p>Some of these he had been five years in educating to do +what we saw. Some he had taught to do their special part in one +year, some in two. The first thing he did was to give the horse +opportunity and time to get well acquainted with him; in his +words, "to become friends. Let him see that you are his friend, +that you are not going to whip him. You meet him cordially. +You are glad to see him and be with him, and pretty soon he +knows it and likes to be with you. And so you establish comradeship, +you understand each other. Caress him softly. Don't +make a dash at him. Say pleasant things to him. Be gentle; +but at the same time you must be <i>master</i>." That is a good basis. +And then he teaches one thing at a time, a simple thing, and +waits a good while before he brings forward another; does not +perplex or puzzle the pupil by anything else till that is learned, +and some of the first words are "come," "stand," "remain."</p> + +<p>What a horse has once learned he never or seldom forgets. +Mr. Bartholomew thinks it is not as has sometimes been said, +because a horse has a memory stronger than a man, "but because +he has fewer things to learn. A man sees a million things. A +horse's mind cannot accommodate what a man's can, so those +things he knows have a better chance. Those few things he fixes. +His memory fastens on them. I once had a pony I had trained, +which was afterwards gone from me three years. At the end of +that time I was in California exhibiting, and saw a boy on the +pony. I tried to buy him, but the boy who had owned him all +that time, refused to part with him; however, I offered such a +price that I got him, and that same evening I took him into the +tent and thought I would see what he remembered. He went +through all his old tricks (besides a few I had myself forgotten) +except one. He could not manage walking on his hind feet the +distance he used to. Another time I had a trained horse stolen +from me by the Indians, and he was off in the wilds with them +a year and a half. One day, in a little village—that was in California +too—I saw him and knew him, and the horse knew me. I +went up to the Indian who had him and said, 'That is my horse, +and I can prove it.' Out there a stolen horse, no matter how many +times he has changed hands, is given up, if the owner can prove +it. The Indian said, 'If you can, you shall have him, but you +won't do it.' I said, 'I will try him in four things; I will ask him +to trot three times around a circle, to lie down, to sit up, and to +bring me my handkerchief. If he is my horse, he will do it.' +The Indian said, 'You shall have him if he does, but he won't!' +By this time a crowd had got together. We put the horse in an +enclosure, he did as he was told, and I had him back."</p> + +<p>Mr. Bartholomew said, "My motto in educating them is, +'Make haste slowly;' I never require too much, and I never ask a +horse to do what he <i>can't</i> do. That is of no use. A horse <i>can't</i> +learn what horses are not capable of learning; and he can't do a +thing until he understands what you mean, and how you want it +done. What good would it do for me to ask a man a question in +French if he did not know a word of the language? I get him +used to the word, and show him what I want. If it is to climb +up somewhere, I gently put his foot up and have him keep it +there until I am ready to have it come down, and then I take it +down myself. I never let the horse do it. The same with other +things, showing him how, and by words. They know a great +number of words. My horses are not influenced by signs or +motions when they are on the stage. They use their intelligence +and memory, and they associate ideas and are required to obey. +They learn a great deal by observing one another. One watches +and learns by seeing the others. I taught one horse to kneel, by +first bending his knee myself, and putting him into position. +After he had learned, I took another in who kept watch all the +time, and learned partly by imitation. They are social creatures; +they love each other's company."</p> + +<p>Most of these horses have been together now for several +years, and are fond of one another. They appear to keep the run +of the whole performance, and listen and notice like children in +a school when one or more of their number goes out to recite. It +was extremely interesting to observe them when the leap-frog +game was going on. Owing to the smallness of the stage, it was +difficult for the horse who was to make the jump to get under +headway, and several times poor Sprite, or whichever it was, +would turn abruptly to make another start, upon which every +horse on her side would dart out for a chance at giving her a nip +as she went by. They all seemed throughout the entire exhibition +to feel a sort of responsibility, or at least a pride in it, as if +"this is <i>our</i> school. See how well Bucephalus minds, or how +badly Brutus behaves! This is <i>our</i> regiment. Don't we march +well? How fine and grand, how gallant and gay we are!" And +the wonder of it all is, not so much what any one horse can do, or +the sense of humor they show, or the great number of words they +understand, but the mental processes and nice calculation they +show in the feats where they are associated in complex ways, +which require that each must act his part independently and +mind nothing about it if another happens to make a mistake.</p> + +<div class="figright" style="width:60%;"><a href="images/58.png"><img width="100%" src="images/58.png" alt="VICTORY." /></a>VICTORY.</div> + +<p>To obtain any adequate representation of these horses while +performing, it was necessary that it be done by process called +instantaneous photographing. You are aware that birds and +insects are taken by means of an instrument named the "photographic +revolver," which is aimed at them. Recently an American, +Mr. Muybridge, has been able to photograph horses while +galloping or trotting, by +his "battery of cameras," +and a book on "the Horse +in Motion" has for its +subject this instantaneous +catching a likeness as applied +to animals. But +how could any process, +however swift, or ingenious, +or admirable, do +full justice to the grace +and spirit, the all-alive +attitudes and varieties of +posture, the dalliance +and charm, the freedom +in action?</p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width:100%;"><a href="images/59-1.png"><img width="100%" src="images/59-1.png" alt="THE STORMING OF THE FORT." /></a>THE STORMING OF THE FORT.</div> + +<p>Professor Bartholomew gave his performances the name of +"The Equine Paradox." He now has his beautiful animals in +delightful summer quarters at Newport, where they are counted +among the "notable guests." He has the Opera House there for +his training school for three months, preparing new ones for next +winter's exhibition, and keeping the old ones in practice. It is +pleasant to know that he cares so faithfully for their health as to +give them a home through the warm weather in that cool retreat +by the sea.</p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width:80%;"><a href="images/59-2.png"><img width="100%" src="images/59-2.png" alt="AFTER THE PLAY." /></a>AFTER THE PLAY.</div> + + + + +<h2>QUESTIONS.</h2> + + +<div class="poem"> <div class="stanza"> +<p><img width="10%" src="images/ltr-c.png" alt="[Illuminated letter] C" />an you put the spider's web back in its place, that once has been swept away?</p> +<p>Can you put the apple again on the bough, which fell at our feet to-day?</p> +<p>Can you put the lily-cup back on the stem, and cause it to live and grow?</p> +<p>Can you mend the butterfly's broken wing, that you crushed with a hasty blow?</p> +<p>Can you put the bloom again on the grape, or the grape again on the vine?</p> +<p>Can you put the dewdrops back on the flowers, and make them sparkle and shine?</p> +<p>Can you put the petals back on the rose? If you could, would it smell as sweet?</p> +<p>Can you put the flour again in the husk, and show me the ripened wheat?</p> +<p>Can you put the kernel back in the nut, or the broken egg in its shell?</p> +<p>Can you put the honey back in the comb, and cover with wax each cell?</p> +<p>Can you put the perfume back in the vase, when once it has sped away?</p> +<p>Can you put the corn-silk back on the corn, or the down on the catkins—say?</p> +<p>You think that my questions are trifling, dear? Let me ask you another one:</p> +<p>Can a hasty word ever be unsaid, or a deed unkind, undone?</p> + </div> </div> + +<p class="author">KATE LAWRENCE.</p> + + + + +<h2>THE BRAVEST BOY IN TOWN.</h2> + + +<div class="poem"> <div class="stanza"> +<p><img width="10%" src="images/ltr-h.png" alt="[Illuminated letter] H" />e lived in the Cumberland Valley,</p> +<p class="i2">And his name was Jamie Brown;</p> +<p>But it changed one day, so the neighbors say,</p> +<p class="i2">To the "Bravest Boy in Town."</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>'Twas the time when the Southern soldiers,</p> +<p class="i2">Under Early's mad command,</p> +<p>O'er the border made their dashing raid</p> +<p class="i2">From the north of Maryland.</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>And Chambersburg unransomed</p> +<p class="i2">In smouldering ruins slept,</p> +<p>While up the vale, like a fiery gale,</p> +<p class="i2">The Rebel raiders swept.</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>And a squad of gray-clad horsemen</p> +<p class="i2">Came thundering o'er the bridge,</p> +<p>Where peaceful cows in the meadows browse,</p> +<p class="i2">At the feet of the great Blue Ridge;</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>And on till they reached the village,</p> +<p class="i2">That fair in the valley lay,</p> +<p>Defenseless then, for its loyal men,</p> +<p class="i2">At the front, were far away.</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>"Pillage and spoil and plunder!"</p> +<p class="i2">This was the fearful word</p> +<p>That the Widow Brown, in gazing down</p> +<p class="i2">From her latticed window, heard.</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>'Neath the boughs of the sheltering oak-tree,</p> +<p class="i2">The leader bared his head,</p> +<p>As left and right, until out of sight,</p> +<p class="i2">His dusty gray-coats sped.</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>Then he called: "Halloo! within there!"</p> +<p class="i2">A gentle, fair-haired dame</p> +<p>Across the floor to the open door</p> +<p class="i2">In gracious answer came.</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>"Here! stable my horse, you woman!"—</p> +<p class="i2">The soldier's tones were rude—</p> +<p>"Then bestir yourself and from yonder shelf</p> +<p class="i2">Set out your store of food!"</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>For her guest she spread the table;</p> +<p class="i2">She motioned him to his place</p> +<p>With a gesture proud; then the widow bowed,</p> +<p class="i2">And gently—asked a grace.</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>"If thine enemy hunger, feed him!</p> +<p class="i2">I obey, dear Christ!" she said;</p> +<p>A creeping blush, with its scarlet flush,</p> +<p class="i2">O'er the face of the soldier spread.</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>He rose: "You have said it, madam!</p> +<p class="i2">Standing within your doors</p> +<p>Is the Rebel foe; but as forth they go</p> +<p class="i2">They shall trouble not you nor yours!"</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>Alas, for the word of the leader!</p> +<p class="i2">Alas, for the soldier's vow!</p> +<p>When the captain's men rode down the glen,</p> +<p class="i2">They carried the widow's cow.</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>It was then the fearless Jamie</p> +<p class="i2">Sprang up with flashing eyes,</p> +<p>And in spite of tears and his mother's fears,</p> +<p class="i2">On the gray mare, off he flies.</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>Like a wild young Tam O'Shanter</p> +<p class="i2">He plunged with piercing whoop,</p> +<p>O'er field and brook till he overtook</p> +<p class="i2">The straggling Rebel troop.</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>Laden with spoil and plunder,</p> +<p class="i2">And laughing and shouting still,</p> +<p>As with cattle and sheep they lazily creep</p> +<p class="i2">Through the dust o'er the winding hill.</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>"Oh! the coward crowd!" cried Jamie;</p> +<p class="i2">"There's Brindle! I'll teach them now!"</p> +<p>And with headlong stride, at the captain's side,</p> +<p class="i2">He called for his mother's cow.</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>"Who are <i>you</i>, and who is your mother?—</p> +<p class="i2">I promised she should not miss?—</p> +<p>Well! upon my word, have I never heard</p> +<p class="i2">Of assurance like to this!"</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>"Is your word the word of a soldier?"—</p> +<p class="i2">And the young lad faced his foes,</p> +<p>As a jeering laugh, in anger half</p> +<p class="i2">And half in sport, arose.</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>But the captain drew his sabre,</p> +<p class="i2">And spoke, with lowering brow:</p> +<p>"Fall back into line! The joke is mine!</p> +<p class="i2">Surrender the widow's cow!"</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>And a capital joke they thought it,</p> +<p class="i2">That a barefoot lad of ten</p> +<p>Should demand his due—and get it too—</p> +<p class="i2">In the face of forty men.</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>And the rollicking Rebel raiders</p> +<p class="i2">Forgot themselves somehow,</p> +<p>And three cheers brave for the hero gave,</p> +<p class="i2">And three for the brindle cow.</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>He lived in the Cumberland Valley,</p> +<p class="i2">And his name <i>was</i> Jamie Brown;</p> +<p>But it changed that day, so the neighbors say,</p> +<p class="i2">To the "Bravest Boy in Town."</p> + </div> </div> + +<p class="author">MRS. EMILY HUNTINGTON NASON.</p> + + + + +<h2>THE WOLF AND THE GOSLINGS.</h2> + +<div class="poem"> <div class="stanza"> +<p><img width="10%" src="images/ltr-a.png" alt="[Illuminated letter] A" />n old gray goose walked forth with pride,</p> +<p>With goslings seven at her side;</p> +<p>A lovely yellowish-green they were,</p> +<p class="i4">And very dear to her.</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>She led them to the river's brink</p> +<p>To paddle their feet awhile and drink,</p> +<p>And there she heard a tale that made</p> +<p class="i4">Her very soul afraid.</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>A neighbor gabbled the story out,</p> +<p>How a wolf was known to be thereabout—</p> +<p>A great wolf whom nothing could please</p> +<p class="i2">As well as little geese.</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>So, when, as usual, to the wood</p> +<p>She went next day in search of food,</p> +<p>She warned them over and over, before</p> +<p class="i2">She turned to shut the door:</p> + </div> </div> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width:100%;"><a href="images/65.png"><img width="100%" src="images/65.png" alt="" /></a></div> + +<div class="poem"> <div class="stanza"> +<p>"My little ones, if you hear a knock</p> +<p>At the door, be sure and not unlock,</p> +<p>For the wolf will eat you, if he gets in,</p> +<p class="i2">Feathers and bones and skin.</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>"You will know him by his voice so hoarse,</p> +<p>By his paws so hairy and black and coarse."</p> +<p>And the goslings piped up, clear and shrill,</p> +<p class="i2">"We'll take great care, we will."</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>The mother thought them wise and went</p> +<p>To the far-off forest quite content;</p> +<p>But she was scarcely away, before</p> +<p class="i2">There came a rap at the door.</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>"Open, open, my children dear,"</p> +<p>A gruff voice cried: "your mother is here."</p> +<p>But the young ones answered, "No, no, no,</p> +<p class="i2">Her voice is sweet and low;</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>"And you are the wolf—so go away,</p> +<p>You can't get in, if you try all day."</p> +<p>He laughed to himself to hear them talk,</p> +<p class="i2">And wished he had some chalk,</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>To smooth his voice to a tone like geese;</p> +<p>So he went to the merchant's and bought a piece,</p> +<p>And hurried back, and rapped once more.</p> +<p class="i2">"Open, open the door,</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>"I am your mother, dears," he said.</p> +<p>But up on the window ledge he laid,</p> +<p>In a careless way, his great black paw,</p> +<p class="i2">And this the goslings saw.</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>"No, no," they called, "that will not do,</p> +<p>Our mother has not black hands like you;</p> +<p>For you are the wolf, so go away,</p> +<p class="i2">You can't get in to-day."</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>The baffled wolf to the old mill ran,</p> +<p>And whined to the busy miller man:</p> +<p>"I love to hear the sound of the wheel</p> +<p class="i2">And to smell the corn and meal."</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>The miller was pleased, and said "All right;</p> +<p>Would you like your cap and jacket white?"</p> +<p>At that he opened a flour bin</p> +<p class="i2">And playfully dipped him in.</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>He floundered and sneezed a while, then, lo,</p> +<p>He crept out white as a wolf of snow.</p> +<p>"If chalk and flour can make me sweet,"</p> +<p class="i2">He said, "then I'm complete."</p> + </div> </div> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width:100%;"><a href="images/67.png"><img width="100%" src="images/67.png" alt="" /></a></div> + +<div class="poem"> <div class="stanza"> +<p>For the third time back to the house he went,</p> +<p>And looked and spoke so different,</p> +<p>That when he rapped, and "Open!" cried,</p> +<p class="i2">The little ones replied,</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>"If you show us nice clean feet, we will."</p> +<p>And straightway, there on the window-sill</p> +<p>His paws were laid, with dusty meal</p> +<p class="i2">Powdered from toe to heel.</p> + </div> </div> + +<div class="figright" style="width:40%;"><a href="images/68.png"><img width="100%" src="images/68.png" alt="" /></a></div> + +<div class="poem"> <div class="stanza"> +<p>Yes, they were white! So they let him in,</p> +<p>And he gobbled them all up, feathers and skin!</p> +<p>Gobbled the whole, as if 'twere fun,</p> +<p class="i2">Except the littlest one.</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>An old clock stood there, tick, tick, tick,</p> +<p>And into that he had hopped so quick</p> +<p>The wolf saw nothing, and fancied even</p> +<p class="i2">He'd eaten all the seven.</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>But six were enough to satisfy;</p> +<p>So out he strolled on the grass to lie.</p> +<p>And when the gray goose presently</p> +<p class="i2">Came home—what did she see?</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>Alas, the house door open wide,</p> +<p>But no little yellow flock inside;</p> +<p>The beds and pillows thrown about;</p> +<p class="i2">The fire all gone out;</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>The chairs and tables overset;</p> +<p>The wash-tub spilled, and the floor all wet;</p> +<p>And here and there in cinders black,</p> +<p class="i2">The great wolf's ugly track.</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>She called out tenderly every name,</p> +<p>But never a voice in answer came,</p> +<p>Till a little frightened, broad-billed face</p> +<p class="i2">Peered out of the clock-case.</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>This gosling told his tale with grief,</p> +<p>And the gray goose sobbed in her handkerchief,</p> +<p>And sighed—"Ah, well, we will have to go</p> +<p class="i2">And let the neighbors know."</p> + </div> </div> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width:100%;"><a href="images/69.png"><img width="100%" src="images/69.png" alt="" /></a></div> + +<div class="poem"> <div class="stanza"> +<p>So down they went to the river's brim,</p> +<p>Where their feathered friends were wont to swim,</p> +<p>And there on the turf so green and deep</p> +<p class="i2">The old wolf lay asleep.</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>He had a grizzly, savage look,</p> +<p>And he snored till the boughs above him shook.</p> +<p>They tiptoed round him—drew quite near,</p> +<p class="i2">Yet still he did not hear.</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>Then, as the mother gazed, to her</p> +<p>It seemed she could see his gaunt side stir—</p> +<p>Stir and squirm, as if under the skin</p> +<p class="i2">Were something alive within!</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>"Go back to the house, quick, dear," she said,</p> +<p>"And fetch me scissors and needle and thread.</p> +<p>I'll open his ugly hairy hide,</p> +<p class="i2">And see what is inside."</p> + </div> </div> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width:100%;"><a href="images/70.png"><img width="100%" src="images/70.png" alt="" /></a></div> + +<div class="poem"> <div class="stanza"> +<p>She snipped with the scissors a criss-cross slit,</p> +<p>And well rewarded she was for it,</p> +<p>For there were her goslings—six together—</p> +<p class="i2">With scarcely a rumpled feather.</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>The wolf had eaten so greedily,</p> +<p>He had swallowed them all alive you see,</p> +<p>So, one by one, they scrambled out,</p> +<p class="i2">And danced and skipped about.</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>Then the gray goose got six heavy stones,</p> +<p>And placed them in between the bones;</p> +<p>She sewed him deftly, with needle and thread,</p> +<p class="i2">And then with her goslings fled.</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>The wolf slept long and hard and late,</p> +<p>And woke so thirsty he scarce could wait.</p> +<p>So he crept along to the river's brink</p> +<p class="i2">To get a good cool drink.</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>But the stones inside began to shake,</p> +<p>And make his old ribs crack and ache;</p> +<p>And the gladsome flock, as they sped away,</p> +<p class="i2">Could hear him groan, and say:—</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>"What's this rumbling and tumbling?</p> +<p>What's this rattling like bones?</p> +<p>I thought I'd eaten six small geese,</p> +<p class="i2">But they've turned out only stones."</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>He bent his neck to lap—instead,</p> +<p>He tumbled in, heels over head;</p> +<p>And so heavy he was, as he went down</p> +<p class="i2">He could not help but drown!</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>And after that, in thankful pride,</p> +<p>With goslings seven at her side,</p> +<p>The gray goose came to the river's brink</p> +<p class="i2">Each day to swim and drink.</p> + </div> </div> + +<p class="author">AMANDA B. HARRIS.</p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width:60%;"><a href="images/71.png"><img width="100%" src="images/71.png" alt="" /></a></div> + + + + +<h2>THE BISHOP'S VISIT.</h2> + + +<div class="poem"> <div class="stanza"> +<p>Tell you about it? Of course I will!</p> +<p>I thought 'twould be dreadful to have him come,</p> +<p>For mamma said I must be quiet and still,</p> +<p>And she put away my whistle and drum.—</p> + </div> </div> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width:100%;"><a href="images/72.png"><img width="100%" src="images/72.png" alt="" /></a></div> + +<div class="poem"> <div class="stanza"> +<p>And made me unharness the parlor chairs,</p> +<p>And packed my cannon and all the rest</p> +<p>Of my noisiest playthings off up-stairs,</p> +<p>On account of this very distinguished guest.</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>Then every room was turned upside down,</p> +<p>And all the carpets hung out to blow;</p> +<p>For when the Bishop is coming to town</p> +<p>The house must be in order, you know.</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>So out in the kitchen I made my lair,</p> +<p>And started a game of hide-and-seek;</p> +<p>But Bridget refused to have me there,</p> +<p>For the Bishop was coming—to stay a week—</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>And she must have cookies and cakes and pies,</p> +<p>And fill every closet and platter and pan,</p> +<p>Till I thought this Bishop, so great and wise,</p> +<p>Must be an awfully hungry man.</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>Well! at last he came; and I do declare,</p> +<p>Dear grandpapa, he looked just like you,</p> +<p>With his gentle voice and his silvery hair,</p> +<p>And eyes with a smile a-shining through.</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>And whenever he read or talked or prayed,</p> +<p>I understood every single word;</p> +<p>And I wasn't the leastest bit afraid,</p> +<p>Though I never once spoke or stirred;</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>Till, all of a sudden, he laughed right out</p> +<p>To see me sit quietly listening so;</p> +<p>And began to tell us stories about</p> +<p>Some queer little fellows in Mexico.</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>And all about Egypt and Spain—and then</p> +<p>He <i>wasn't</i> disturbed by a little noise,</p> +<p>And said that the greatest and best of men</p> +<p>Once were rollicking, healthy boys.</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>And he thinks it is no matter at all</p> +<p>If a little boy runs and jumps and climbs;</p> +<p>And mamma should be willing to let me crawl</p> +<p>Through the bannister-rails in the hall sometimes.</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>And Bridget, sir, made a great mistake,</p> +<p>In stirring up such a bother, you see,</p> +<p>For the Bishop—he didn't care for cake,</p> +<p>And really liked to play games with me.</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>But though he's so honored in word and act—</p> +<p>(Stoop down, this is a secret now)—</p> +<p><i>He couldn't spell Boston!</i> That's a fact!</p> +<p>But whispered to me to tell him how.</p> + </div> </div> + +<p class="author">MRS. EMMA HUNTINGTON NASON.</p> + + + + +<h2>THE FIRST STEP.</h2> + + +<div class="poem"> <div class="stanza"> +<p><img width="10%" src="images/ltr-t.png" alt="[Illuminated letter] T" />o-night as the tender gloaming</p> +<p class="i2">Was sinking in evening's gloom,</p> +<p>And only the glow of the firelight</p> +<p class="i2">Brightened the dark'ning room,</p> +<p>I laughed with the gay heart-gladness</p> +<p class="i2">That only to mothers is known,</p> +<p>For the beautiful brown-eyed baby</p> +<p class="i2">Took his first step alone!</p> + </div> </div> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width:100%;"><a href="images/75.png"><img width="100%" src="images/75.png" alt="Baby's First Step." /></a><span class="sc">Baby's First Step.</span></div> + +<div class="poem"> <div class="stanza"> +<p>Hurriedly running to meet him</p> +<p class="i2">Came trooping the household band,</p> +<p>Joyous, loving and eager</p> +<p class="i2">To reach him a helping hand,</p> +<p>To watch him with silent rapture,</p> +<p class="i2">To cheer him with happy noise,</p> +<p>My one little fair-faced daughter</p> +<p class="i2">And four brown romping boys.</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>Leaving the sheltering arms</p> +<p class="i2">That fain would bid him rest</p> +<p>Close to the love and the longing,</p> +<p class="i2">Near to the mother's breast;</p> +<p>Wild with laughter and daring,</p> +<p class="i2">Looking askance at me,</p> +<p>He stumbled across through the shadows</p> +<p class="i2">To rest at his father's knee.</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>Baby, my dainty darling,</p> +<p class="i2">Stepping so brave and bright</p> +<p>With flutter of lace and ribbon</p> +<p class="i2">Out of my arms to-night,</p> +<p>Helped in thy pretty ambition</p> +<p class="i2">With tenderness blessed to see,</p> +<p>Sheltered, upheld, and protected—</p> +<p class="i2">How will the last step be?</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>See, we are all beside you</p> +<p class="i2">Urging and beckoning on,</p> +<p>Watching lest aught betide you</p> +<p class="i2">Till the safe near goal is won,</p> +<p>Guiding the faltering footsteps</p> +<p class="i2">That tremble and fear to fall—</p> +<p>How will it be, my darling,</p> +<p class="i2">With the last sad step of all?</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>Nay! Shall I dare to question,</p> +<p class="i2">Knowing that One more fond</p> +<p>Than all our tenderest loving</p> +<p class="i2">Will guide the weak feet beyond!</p> +<p>And knowing beside, my dearest,</p> +<p class="i2">That whenever the summons, 'twill be</p> +<p>But a stumbling step through the shadows,</p> +<p class="i2">Then rest—at the Father's knee!</p> + </div> </div> + +<p class="author">M.E.B.</p> + + + + +<h2>BINGEN ON THE RHINE.</h2> + + +<div class="poem"> <div class="stanza"> +<p><img width="10%" src="images/ltr-a.png" alt="[Illuminated letter] A" /> Soldier of the Legion lay dying in Algiers,</p> +<p>There was lack of woman's nursing, there was dearth of woman's tears;</p> +<p>But a comrade stood beside him while his life-blood ebbed away,</p> +<p>And bent with pitying glances to hear what he might say.</p> +<p>The dying soldier faltered, as he took that comrade's hand,</p> +<p>And he said, "I never more shall see my own, my native land;</p> +<p>Take a message, and a token to some distant friends of mine,</p> +<p>For I was born at Bingen, at Bingen on the Rhine.</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>"Tell my brothers and companions when they meet and crowd around</p> +<p>To hear my mournful story, in the pleasant vineyard ground,</p> +<p>That we fought the battle bravely, and when the day was done,</p> +<p>Full many a corse lay ghastly pale beneath the setting sun;</p> +<p>And, 'mid the dead and dying, were some grown old in wars,</p> +<p>The death-wound on their gallant breasts, the last of many scars;</p> +<p>And some were young, and suddenly beheld life's morn decline,</p> +<p>And one had come from Bingen, fair Bingen on the Rhine.</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>"Tell my mother that her other son shall comfort her old age;</p> +<p>For I was still a truant bird, that thought his home a cage.</p> +<p>For my father was a soldier, and even as a child</p> +<p>My heart leaped forth to hear him tell of struggles fierce and wild;</p> +<p>And when he died and left us to divide his scanty hoard</p> +<p>I let them take whate'er they would, but I kept my father's sword;</p> +<p>And with boyish love I hung it where the bright light used to shine</p> +<p>On the cottage wall at Bingen, calm Bingen on the Rhine.</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>"Tell my sister not to weep for me, and sob with drooping head,</p> +<p>When the troops come marching home again with glad and gallant tread,</p> +<p>But to look upon them proudly, with a calm and steadfast eye,</p> +<p>For her brother was a soldier, too, and not afraid to die;</p> +<p>And if a comrade seek her love, I ask her in my name,</p> +<p>To listen to him kindly, without regret or shame,</p> +<p>And to hang the old sword in its place, my father's sword and mine;</p> +<p>For the honor of old Bingen, dear Bingen on the Rhine.</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>"There's another, not a sister, in the happy days gone by,</p> +<p>You'd have known her by the merriment that sparkled in her eye;</p> +<p>Too innocent for coquetry, too fond for idle scorning,</p> +<p>O, friend! I fear the lightest heart makes sometimes heaviest mourning.</p> +<p>Tell her the last night of my life (for ere the moon be risen</p> +<p>My body will be out of pain, my soul be out of prison),</p> +<p>I dreamed I stood with her, and saw the yellow sunlight shine,</p> +<p>On the vine-clad hills of Bingen, fair Bingen on the Rhine.</p> + </div> </div> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width:90%;"><a href="images/79.png"><img width="100%" src="images/79.png" alt="" /></a></div> + +<div class="poem"> <div class="stanza"> +<p>"I saw the blue Rhine sweep along; I heard, or seemed to hear,</p> +<p>The German songs we used to sing in chorus sweet and clear;</p> +<p>And down the pleasant river and up the slanting hill,</p> +<p>The echoing chorus sounded, through the evening calm and still;</p> +<p>And her glad blue eyes were on me, as we passed, with friendly talk</p> +<p>Down many a path beloved of yore, and well remembered walk,</p> +<p>And her little hand lay lightly, confidingly, in mine,</p> +<p>But we'll meet no more at Bingen, loved Bingen on the Rhine."</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>His trembling voice grew faint and hoarse, his grasp was childish weak,</p> +<p>His eyes put on a dying look, he sighed, and ceased to speak;</p> +<p>His comrade bent to lift him, but the spark of life had fled—</p> +<p>The soldier of the Legion in a foreign land is dead;</p> +<p>And the soft moon rose up slowly, and calmly she looked down</p> +<p>On the red sand of the battle-field with bloody corses strewn;</p> +<p>Yet calmly on that dreadful scene her pale light seemed to shine,</p> +<p>As it shone on distant Bingen, fair Bingen on the Rhine.</p> + </div> </div> + +<p class="author">CAROLINE E.S. NORTON.</p> + + + + +<h2>OSITO.</h2> + + +<p><img width="10%" src="images/ltr-o.png" alt="[Illuminated letter] O" />n the lofty mountain that faced the captain's cabin the +frost had already made an insidious approach, and the +slender thickets of quaking ash that marked the course +of each tiny torrent, now stood out in resplendent hues +and shone afar off like gay ribbons running through the dark-green +pines. Gorgeously, too, with scarlet, crimson and gold, +gleamed the lower spurs, where the oak-brush grew in dense +masses and bore beneath a blaze of color, a goodly harvest of +acorns, now ripe and loosened in their cups.</p> + +<p>It was where one of these spurs joined the parent mountain, +where the oak-brush grew thickest, and, as a consequence, the +acorns were most abundant, that the captain, well versed in wood-craft +mysteries, had built his bear trap. For two days he had +been engaged upon it, and now, as the evening drew on, he sat +contemplating it with satisfaction, as a work finished and perfected.</p> + +<p>From his station there, on the breast of the lofty mountain, +the captain could scan many an acre of sombre pine forest with +pleasant little parks interspersed, and here and there long slopes +brown with bunch grass. He was the lord of this wild domain. +And yet his sway there was not undisputed. Behind an intervening +spur to the westward ran an old Indian trail long traveled +by the Southern Utes in their migrations north for trading +and hunting purposes. And even now, a light smoke wafted +upward on the evening air, told of a band encamped on the trail +on their homeward journey to the Southwest.</p> + +<p>The captain needed not this visual token of their proximity. +He had been aware of it for several days. Their calls at his +cabin in the lonely little park below had been frequent, and they +had been specially solicitous of his coffee, his sugar, his biscuit +and other delicacies, insomuch that once or twice during his +absence these ingenuous children of Nature had with primitive +simplicity, entered his cabin and helped themselves without leave +or stint.</p> + +<p>However, as he knew their stay would be short, the captain +bore these neighborly attentions with mild forbearance. It was +guests more graceless than these who had roused his wrath.</p> + +<p>From their secret haunts far back towards the Snowy Range +the bears had come down to feast upon the ripened acorns, and +so doing, had scented the captain's bacon and sugar afar off and +had prowled by night about the cabin. Nay, more, three days +before, the captain, having gone hurriedly away and left the door +loosely fastened, upon his return had found all in confusion. +Many of his eatables had vanished, his flour sack was ripped +open, and, unkindest cut of all, his beloved books lay scattered +about. At the first indignant glance the captain had cried out, +"Utes again!" But on looking around he saw a tell-tale trail left +by floury bear paws.</p> + +<p>Hence this bear trap.</p> + +<p>It was but a strong log pen floored with rough-hewn slabs +and fitted with a ponderous movable lid made of other slabs +pinned on stout cross pieces. But, satisfied with his handiwork, +the captain now arose, and, prying up one end of the lid with a +lever, set the trigger and baited it with a huge piece of bacon. +He then piled a great quantity of rock upon the already heavy +lid to further guard against the escape of any bear so unfortunate +as to enter, and shouldering his axe and rifle walked homewards.</p> + +<p>Whatever vengeful visions of captive bears he was indulging +in were, however, wholly dispelled as he drew near the cabin. +Before the door stood the Ute chief accompanied by two squaws. +"How!" said the chieftain, with a conciliatory smile, laying one +hand on his breast of bronze and extending the other as the captain +approached.</p> + +<p>"How!" returned the captain bluffly, disdaining the hand +with a recollection of sundry petty thefts.</p> + +<p>"Has the great captain seen a pappoose about his wigwam?" +asked the chief, nowise abashed, in Spanish—a language which +many of the Southern Utes speak as fluently as their own.</p> + +<p>The great captain had expected a request for a biscuit; he, +therefore, was naturally surprised at being asked for a baby. +With an effort he mustered together his Spanish phrases and +managed to reply that he had seen no pappoose.</p> + +<p>"Me pappoose lost," said one of the squaws brokenly. And +there was so much distress in her voice that the captain, forgetting +instantly all about the slight depredations of his dusky neighbors, +volunteered to aid them in their search for the missing child.</p> + +<p>All that night, for it was by this time nearly dark, the hills +flared with pine torches and resounded with the shrill cries of the +squaws, the whoops of the warriors, the shouts of the captain; +but the search was fruitless.</p> + +<p>This adventure drove the bear-trap from its builder's mind, +and it was two days before it occurred to him to go there in quest +of captive bears.</p> + +<p>Coming in view of it he immediately saw the lid was down. +Hastily he approached, bent over, and peeped in. And certainly, +in the whole of his adventurous life the captain was never more +taken by surprise; for there, crouched in one corner, was that +precious Indian infant.</p> + +<p>Yes, true it was, that all those massive timbers, all that ponderous +mass of rock, had only availed to capture one very small +Ute pappoose. At the thought of it, the builder of the trap was +astounded. He laughed aloud at the absurdity. In silence he +threw off the rock and lid and seated himself on the edge of the +open trap. Captor and captive then gazed at each other with +gravity. The errant infant's attire consisted of a calico shirt of +gaudy hues, a pair of little moccasins, much frayed, and a red +flannel string. This last was tied about his straggling hair, which +fell over his forehead like the shaggy mane of a <i>bronco</i> colt and +veiled, but could not obscure, the brightness of his black eyes.</p> + +<p>He did not cry; in fact, this small stoic never even whimpered, +but he held the bacon, or what remained of it, clasped +tightly to his breast and gazed at his captor in silence. Glancing +at the bacon, the captain saw it all. Hunger had induced this +wee wanderer to enter the trap, and in detaching the bait, he had +sprung the trigger and was caught.</p> + +<p>"What are you called, little one?" asked the captain at +length, in a reassuring voice, speaking Spanish very slowly and +distinctly.</p> + +<p>"Osito," replied the wanderer in a small piping voice, but +with the dignity of a warrior.</p> + +<p>"Little Bear!" the captain repeated, and burst into a hearty +laugh, immediately checked, however by the thought that now +he had caught him, what was he to do with him? The first thing, +evidently, was to feed him.</p> + +<p>So he conducted him to the cabin and there, observing the +celerity with which the lumps of sugar vanished, he saw at once +that Little Bear was most aptly named. Then, sometimes leading, +and sometimes carrying him, for Osito was very small, he set +out for the Ute encampment.</p> + +<p>Their approach was the signal for a mighty shout. Warriors, +squaws and the younger confrères of Osito, crowded about +him. A few words from the captain explained all, and Osito +himself, clinging to his mother, was borne away in triumph—the +hero of the hour. Yet, no—the captain was that, I believe. +For as he stood in their midst with a very pleased look on his +sunburnt face, the chief quieting the hubbub with a wave of his +hand, advanced and stood before him. "The great captain has a +good heart," he said in tones of conviction. "What can his Ute +friends do to show their gratitude?"</p> + +<p>"Nothing," said the captain, looking more pleased than ever.</p> + +<p>"The captain has been troubled by the bears. Would it +please him if they were all driven back to their dens in the great +mountains towards the setting sun?"</p> + +<p>"It would," said the captain; "can it be done?"</p> + +<p>"It can. It shall," said the chief with emphasis. "To-morrow +let the <i>captain</i> keep his eyes open, and as the sun sinks behind +the mountain tops he shall see the bears follow also."</p> + +<p>The chief kept his word. The next day the uproar on the +hills was terrific. Frightened out of their wits, the bears forsook +the acorn field and fled ingloriously to their secret haunts in the +mountains to the westward.</p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width:100%;"><a href="images/85.png"><img width="100%" src="images/85.png" alt="'WHAT ARE YOU CALLED, LITTLE ONE?' ASKED THE CAPTAIN." /></a>"WHAT ARE YOU CALLED, LITTLE ONE?" ASKED THE CAPTAIN.</div> + +<p>In joy thereof the captain gave a great farewell feast to his +red allies. It was spread under the pines in front of his cabin, +and every delicacy of the season was there, from bear steaks to +beaver tails. The banquet was drawing to a close, and complimentary +speeches 'twixt host and guests were in order, when a +procession of the squaws was seen approaching from the encampment. +They drew near and headed for the captain in solemn +silence. As they passed, each laid some gift at his feet—fringed +leggings; beaded moccasins, bear skins, coyote skins, beaver pelts +and soft robes of the mountain lion's hide—until the pile reached +to the captain's shoulders. Last of all came Osito's mother and +crowned the heap with a beautiful little brown bear skin. It +was fancifully adorned with blue ribbons, and in the center of +the tanned side there were drawn, in red pigment, the outlines +of a very stolid and stoical-looking pappoose.</p> + +<p class="author">F.L. STEALEY.</p> + + + + +<h2>THE LITTLE LION-CHARMER.</h2> + + +<div class="poem"> <div class="stanza"> +<p><img width="10%" src="images/ltr-o.png" alt="[Illuminated letter] O" />utside the little village of Katrine,</p> +<p class="i2">Just where the country ventures into town,</p> +<p>A circus pitched its tents, and on the green</p> +<p class="i2">The canvas pyramids were fastened down.</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>The night was clear. The moon was climbing higher.</p> +<p class="i2">The show was over; crowds were coming out,</p> +<p>When, through the surging mass, the cry of "fire!"</p> +<p class="i2">Rose from a murmur to a wild, hoarse shout.</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>"Fire! fire!" The crackling flames ran up the tent,</p> +<p class="i2">The shrieks of frightened women filled the air,</p> +<p>The cries of prisoned beasts weird horror lent</p> +<p class="i2">To the wild scene of uproar and despair.</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>A lion's roar high over all the cries!</p> +<p class="i2">There is a crash—out into the night</p> +<p>The tawny creature leaps with glowing eyes,</p> +<p class="i2">Then stands defiant in the fierce red light.</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>"The lion's loose! The lion! Fly for your lives!"</p> +<p class="i2">But deathlike silence falls upon them all,</p> +<p>So paralyzed with fear that no one strives</p> +<p class="i2">To make escape, to move, to call!</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>"A weapon! Shoot him!" comes from far outside;</p> +<p class="i2">The shout wakes men again to conscious life;</p> +<p>But as the aim is taken, the ranks divide</p> +<p class="i2">To make a passage for the keeper's wife.</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>Alone she came, a woman tall and fair,</p> +<p class="i2">And hurried on, and near the lion stood;</p> +<p>"Oh, do not fire!" she cried; "let no one dare</p> +<p class="i2">To shoot my lion—he is tame and good.</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>"My son? my son?" she called; and to her ran</p> +<p class="i2">A little child, that scarce had seen nine years.</p> +<p>"Play! play!" she said. Quickly the boy began.</p> +<p class="i2">His little flute was heard by awe-struck ears.</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>"Fetch me a cage," she cried. The men obeyed.</p> +<p class="i2">"Now go, my son, and bring the lion here."</p> +<p>Slowly the child advanced, and piped, and played,</p> +<p class="i2">While men and women held their breaths in fear.</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>Sweetly he played, as though no horrid fate</p> +<p class="i2">Could ever harm his sunny little head.</p> +<p>He never paused, nor seemed to hesitate,</p> +<p class="i2">But went to do the thing his mother said.</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>The lion hearkened to the sweet clear sound;</p> +<p class="i2">The anger vanished from his threatening eyes;</p> +<p>All motionless he crouched upon the ground</p> +<p class="i2">And listened to the silver melodies.</p> + </div> </div> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width:100%;"><a href="images/88.png"><img width="100%" src="images/88.png" alt="The Little Lion Charmer." /></a><span class="sc">The Little Lion Charmer.</span></div> + +<div class="poem"> <div class="stanza"> +<p>The boy thus reached his side. The beast stirred not.</p> +<p class="i2">The child then backward walked, and played again,</p> +<p>Till, moving softly, slowly from the spot,</p> +<p class="i2">The lion followed the familiar strain.</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>The cage is waiting—wide its opened door—</p> +<p class="i2">And toward it, cautiously, the child retreats.</p> +<p>But see! The lion, restless grown once more,</p> +<p class="i2">Is lashing with his tail in angry beats.</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>The boy, advancing, plays again the lay.</p> +<p class="i2">Again the beast, remembering the refrain,</p> +<p>Follows him on, until in this dread way</p> +<p class="i2">The cage is reached, and in it go the twain.</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>At once the boy springs out, the door makes fast,</p> +<p class="i2">Then leaps with joy to reach his mother's side;</p> +<p>Her praise alone, of all that crowd so vast,</p> +<p class="i2">Has power to thrill his little heart with pride.</p> + </div> </div> + +<p class="author">HARRIET S. FLEMING.</p> + + + + +<h2>THE BOY TO THE SCHOOLMASTER.</h2> + + +<div class="poem"> <div class="stanza"> +<p><img width="10%" src="images/ltr-y.png" alt="[Illuminated letter] Y" />ou've quizzed me often and puzzled me long,</p> +<p class="i2">You've asked me to cipher and spell,</p> +<p>You've called me a dunce if I answered wrong,</p> +<p class="i2">Or a dolt if I failed to tell</p> +<p>Just when to say <i>lie</i> and when to say <i>lay</i>,</p> +<p class="i2">Or what nine sevens may make,</p> +<p>Or the longitude of Kamschatka Bay,</p> +<p class="i2">Or the I-forget-what's-its-name Lake,</p> +<p>So I think it's about <i>my</i> turn, I do,</p> +<p>To ask a question or so of you.</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>The schoolmaster grim, he opened his eyes,</p> +<p>But said not a word for sheer surprise.</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>Can you tell what "phen-dubs" means? I can.</p> +<p class="i2">Can you say all off by heart</p> +<p>The "onery twoery ickery ann,"</p> +<p class="i2">Or tell "alleys" and "commons" apart?</p> +<p>Can <i>you</i> fling a top, I would like to know,</p> +<p class="i2">Till it hums like a bumble-bee?</p> +<p>Can you make a kite yourself that will go</p> +<p class="i2">'Most as high as the eye can see,</p> +<p>Till it sails and soars like a hawk on the wing,</p> +<p>And the little birds come and light on its string?</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>The schoolmaster looked oh! very demure,</p> +<p>But his mouth was twitching, I'm almost sure.</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>Can you tell where the nest of the oriole swings,</p> +<p class="i2">Or the color its eggs may be?</p> +<p>Do you know the time when the squirrel brings</p> +<p class="i2">Its young from their nest in the tree?</p> +<p>Can you tell when the chestnuts are ready to drop</p> +<p class="i2">Or where the best hazel-nuts grow?</p> +<p>Can you climb a high tree to the very tip-top,</p> +<p class="i2">Then gaze without trembling below?</p> +<p>Can you swim and dive, can you jump and run,</p> +<p>Or do anything else we boys call fun?</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>The master's voice trembled as he replied:</p> +<p>"You are right, my lad, I'm the dunce," he sighed.</p> + </div> </div> + +<p class="author">E.J. WHEELER.</p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width:100%;"><a href="images/91.png"><img width="100%" src="images/91.png" alt="Little Mer-Folks." /></a><span class="sc">Little Mer-Folks.</span></div> + + + + +<h2>WON'T TAKE A BAFF.</h2> + + +<div class="figright" style="width:55%;"><a href="images/92.png"><img width="100%" src="images/92.png" alt="ESCAPE." /></a>ESCAPE.</div> + +<div class="poem"> <div class="stanza"> +<p>To the brook in the green meadow dancing,</p> +<p class="i2">The tree-shaded, grass-bordered brook,</p> +<p>For a bath in its cool, limpid water,</p> +<p class="i2">Old Dinah the baby boy took.</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>She drew off his cunning wee stockings,</p> +<p class="i2">Unbuttoned each dainty pink shoe,</p> +<p>Untied the white slip and small apron,</p> +<p class="i2">And loosened his petticoats, too.</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>And while Master Blue Eyes undressing,</p> +<p class="i2">She told him in quaintest of words</p> +<p>Of the showers that came to the flowers,</p> +<p class="i2">Of the rills that were baths for the birds.</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>And she said, "Dis yere sweetest of babies,</p> +<p class="i2">W'en he's washed, jess as hansum'll be</p> +<p>As any red, yaller or blue bird</p> +<p class="i2">Dat ebber singed up in a tree.</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>"An' sweeter den rosies an' lilies,</p> +<p class="i2">Or wiolets eder, I guess—"</p> +<p>When away flew the mischievous darling,</p> +<p class="i2">In the scantiest kind of a dress.</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>"Don't care if the birdies an' fowers,"</p> +<p class="i2">He shouted, with clear, ringing laugh,</p> +<p>"Wash 'eir hands an' 'eir faces forebber</p> +<p class="i2">An' ebber, <i>me</i> won't take a baff."</p> + </div> </div> + +<p class="author">MARGARET EYTINGE.</p> + + + + +<h2>ONE WAY TO BE BRAVE.</h2> + +<h4>(<i>A True Story.</i>)</h4> + + +<p>"<img width="10%" src="images/ltr-p.png" alt="[Illuminated letter] P" />apa," exclaimed six-year-old Marland, leaning against +his father's knee after listening to a true story, "I wish +I could be as brave as that!"</p> + +<p>"Perhaps you will be when you grow up."</p> + +<p>"But maybe I sha'n't ever be on a railroad train when there +is going to be an accident!"</p> + +<p>"Ah! but there are sure to be plenty of other ways for a +brave man to show himself."</p> + +<p>Several days after this, when Marland had quite forgotten +about trying to be brave, thinking, indeed, that he would have +to wait anyway until he was a man, he and his little playmate, +Ada, a year younger, were playing in the dog-kennel. It was a +very large kennel, so that the two children often crept into it to +"play house." After awhile, Marland, who, of course, was +playing the papa of the house, was to go "down town" to his +business; he put his little head out of the door of the kennel, and +was just about to creep out, when right in front of him in the +path he saw a snake. He knew in a moment just what sort of a +snake it was, and how dangerous it was; he knew it was a rattlesnake, +and that if it bit Ada or him, they would probably die. +For Marland had spent two summers on his papa's big ranch in +Kansas, and he had been told over and over again, if he ever +saw a snake to run away from it as fast as he could, and this +snake just in front of him was making the queer little noise with +the rattles at the end of his tail which Marland had heard +enough about to be able to recognize.</p> + +<div class="figleft" style="width:60%;"><a href="images/94.png"><img width="100%" src="images/94.png" alt="THE LITTLE RANCHMAN. (From a photograph.)" /></a><span class="sc">The Little Ranchman.</span><br />(From a photograph.)</div> + +<p>Now you must know that a rattlesnake is not at all like a +lion or a bear, although +just as dangerous in its +own way. It will not +chase you; it can only +spring a distance equal +to its own length, and +it has to wait and coil +itself up in a ring, +sounding its warning +all the time, before it +can strike at all. So if +you are ever so little +distance from it when +you see it first, you can +easily escape from it. +The only danger is +from stepping on it without seeing it. But Marland's snake +was already coiled, and it was hardly more than a foot from the +entrance to the kennel. You must know that the kennel was not +out in an open field, either, but under a piazza, and a lattice +work very near it left a very narrow passage for the children, +even when there wasn't any snake. If they had been standing +upright, they could have run, narrow as the way was; but they +would have to crawl out of the kennel and find room for their +entire little bodies on the ground before they could straighten +themselves up and run. Fortunately, the snake's head was +turned the other way.</p> + +<p>"Ada," said Marland very quietly, so quietly that his +grandpapa, raking the gravel on the walk near by, did not hear, +him, "there's a snake out here, and it is a rattlesnake. Keep +very still and crawl right after me."</p> + +<p>"Yes, Ada," he whispered, as he succeeded in squirming +himself out and wriggling past the snake till he could stand +upright. "<i>There's room</i>, but you mustn't make any noise!"</p> + +<p>Five minutes later the two children sauntered slowly down +the avenue, hand in hand.</p> + +<p>"Grandpapa," said Marland, "there's a rattlesnake in there +where Ada and I were; perhaps you'd better kill him!"</p> + +<p>And when the snake had been killed, and papa for the +hundredth time had folded his little boy in his arms and murmured, +"My brave boy! my dear, brave little boy!" Marland +looked up in surprise.</p> + +<p>"Why, it wasn't <i>I</i> that killed the snake, papa! it was grandpapa! +I didn't do anything; I only kept very still and ran +away!"</p> + +<p>But you see, in that case, keeping very still and running +away was just the bravest thing the little fellow could have +done; and I think his mamma—for I am his mamma, and so I +know just how she did feel—felt when she took him in her arms +that night that in her little boy's soul there was something of +the stuff of which heroes are made.</p> + +<p class="author">MRS. ALICE WELLINGTON ROLLINS.</p> + + + + +<h2>THE MYSTERY OF SPRING.</h2> + + +<div class="poem"> <div class="stanza"> +<p><img width="10%" src="images/ltr-c.png" alt="[Illuminated letter] C" />ome, come, come, little Tiny,</p> +<p class="i2">Come, little doggie! We</p> +<p>Will "interview" all the blossoms</p> +<p class="i2">Down-dropt from the apple-tree;</p> +<p>We'll hie to the grove and question</p> +<p class="i2">Fresh grasses under the swing,</p> +<p>And learn if we can, dear Tiny,</p> +<p class="i2">Just what is the joy called Spring.</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>Come, come, come, little Tiny;</p> +<p class="i2">Golden it is, I know:</p> +<p>Gold is the air around us,</p> +<p class="i2">The crocus is gold below;</p> +<p>Red as the golden sunset</p> +<p class="i2">Is robin's breast, on the wing—</p> +<p>But, come, come, come, little Tiny,</p> +<p class="i2">This isn't the half of Spring.</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>Spring's more than beautiful, Tiny;</p> +<p class="i2">Fragrant it is—for, see,</p> +<p>We catch the breath of the violets</p> +<p class="i2">However hidden they be;</p> +<p>And buds o'erhead in the greenwood</p> +<p class="i2">The sweetest of spices fling—</p> +<p>Yet color and sweets together</p> +<p class="i2">Are still but a part of Spring.</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>Then come, come, come, little Tiny,</p> +<p class="i2">Let's hear what <i>you</i> have to tell</p> +<p>Learned of the years you've scampered</p> +<p class="i2">Over the hill and dell—</p> +<p>What! Only a <i>bark</i> for answer?</p> +<p class="i2">Now, Tiny, that isn't the thing</p> +<p>Will help unravel the riddle</p> +<p class="i2">Of wonderful, wonderful Spring.</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>Yes, Tiny, there's something better</p> +<p class="i2">Than form and scent and hue,</p> +<p>In the grass with its emerald glory;</p> +<p class="i2">In the air's cerulean blue;</p> +<p>In the glow of the sweet arbutus;</p> +<p class="i2">In the daisy's perfect mould:—</p> +<p>All these are delightful, Tiny,</p> +<p class="i2">But the secret's still untold.</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>Oh, Tiny, <i>you'll</i> never know it—</p> +<p class="i2">For the mystery lies in this:</p> +<p>Just the fact of such warm uprising</p> +<p class="i2">From winter's chill abyss,</p> +<p>And the joy of our heart's upspringing</p> +<p class="i2">Whenever the Spring is born,</p> +<p>Because it repeats the story</p> +<p class="i2">Of the blessed Easter-morn!</p> + </div> </div> + +<p class="author">MRS. MARY B. DODGE.</p> + + + + +<div class="figcenter" style="width:100%;"><a href="images/98.png"><img width="100%" src="images/98.png" alt="... THE LEAST LITTLE THING HATH MESSAGE SO WONDEROUS AND TENDER." /></a>... THE LEAST LITTLE THING HATH MESSAGE SO WONDEROUS AND TENDER.</div> + + +<h2>MIDSUMMER WORDS.</h2> + + +<div class="poem"> <div class="stanza"> +<p><img width="10%" src="images/ltr-w.png" alt="[Illuminated letter] W" />hat can they want of a midsummer verse,</p> +<p class="i2">In the flush of the midsummer splendor?</p> +<p>For the Empress of Ind shall I pull out my purse</p> +<p class="i2">And offer a penny to lend her?</p> +<p>Who cares for a song when the birds are a-wing,</p> +<p>Or a fancy of words when the least little thing</p> +<p class="i2">Hath message so wondrous and tender?</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>The trees are all plumed with their leafage superb,</p> +<p class="i2">And the rose and the lily are budding;</p> +<p>And wild, happy life, without hindrance or curb,</p> +<p class="i2">Through the woodland is creeping and scudding;</p> +<p>The clover is purple, the air is like mead,</p> +<p>With odor escaped from the opulent weed</p> +<p class="i2">And over the pasture-sides flooding.</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>Every note is a tune, every breath is a boon;</p> +<p class="i2">'Tis poem enough to be living;</p> +<p>Why fumble for phrase while magnificent June</p> +<p class="i2">Her matchless recital is giving?</p> +<p>Why not to the music and picturing come,</p> +<p>And just with the manifest marvel sit dumb</p> +<p class="i2">In silenced delight of receiving?</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>Ah, listen! because the great Word of the Lord</p> +<p class="i2">That was born in the world to begin it,</p> +<p>Makes answering word in ourselves to accord,</p> +<p class="i2">And was put there on purpose to win it.</p> +<p>And the fulness would smother us, only for this:</p> +<p>We <i>can</i> cry to each other, "How lovely it is!</p> +<p class="i2">And how blessed it is to be in it!"</p> + </div> </div> + +<p class="author">MRS. A. D. T. WHITNEY.</p> + + + + +<h2>PAUL REVERE'S RIDE.</h2> + + +<div class="poem"> <div class="stanza"> +<p><img width="10%" src="images/ltr-l.png" alt="[Illuminated letter] L" />isten, my children, and you shall hear</p> +<p>Of the midnight ride of Paul Revere,</p> +<p>On the eighteenth of April, in Seventy-Five:</p> +<p>Hardly a man is now alive</p> +<p>Who remembers that famous day and year.</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>He said to his friend—"If the British march</p> +<p>By land or sea from the town to-night,</p> +<p>Hang a lantern aloft in the belfry-arch</p> +<p>Of the North-Church tower, as a signal-light—</p> +<p>One if by land, and two if by sea;</p> +<p>And I on the opposite shore will be,</p> +<p>Ready to ride and spread the alarm</p> +<p>Through every Middlesex village and farm,</p> +<p>For the country-folk to be up and to arm."</p> + </div> </div> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width:80%;"><a href="images/100.png"><img width="100%" src="images/100.png" alt="" /></a></div> + +<div class="poem"> <div class="stanza"> +<p>Then he said good-night, and with muffled oar</p> +<p>Silently rowed to the Charlestown shore,</p> +<p>Just as the moon rose over the bay,</p> +<p>Where swinging wide at her moorings lay</p> +<p>The Somerset, British man-of-war:</p> +<p>A phantom ship, with each mast and spar</p> +<p>Across the moon, like a prison-bar,</p> +<p>And a huge, black hulk, that was magnified</p> +<p>By its own reflection in the tide.</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>Meanwhile, his friend, through alley and street</p> +<p>Wanders and watches with eager ears,</p> +<p>Till in the silence around him he hears</p> +<p>The muster of men at the barrack-door,</p> +<p>The sound of arms, and the tramp of feet,</p> +<p>And the measured tread of the grenadiers</p> +<p>Marching down to their boats on the shore.</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>Then he climbed to the tower of the church,</p> +<p>Up the wooden stairs, with stealthy tread,</p> +<p>To the belfry-chamber overhead,</p> +<p>And startled the pigeons from their perch</p> +<p>On the sombre rafters, that round him made</p> +<p>Masses and moving shapes of shade—</p> +<p>Up the light ladder, slender and tall,</p> +<p>To the highest window in the wall,</p> +<p>Where he paused to listen and look down</p> +<p>A moment on the roofs of the quiet town,</p> +<p>And the moonlight flowing over all.</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>Beneath, in the church-yard lay the dead</p> +<p>In their night-encampment on the hill,</p> +<p>Wrapped in silence so deep and still,</p> +<p>That he could hear, like a sentinel's tread</p> +<p>The watchful night-wind as it went</p> +<p>Creeping along from tent to tent,</p> +<p>And seeming to whisper, "All is well!"</p> +<p>A moment only he feels the spell</p> +<p>Of the place and the hour, the secret dread</p> +<p>Of the lonely belfry and the dead;</p> +<p>For suddenly all his thoughts are bent</p> +<p>On a shadowy something far away,</p> +<p>Where the river widens to meet the bay—</p> +<p>A line of black, that bends and floats</p> +<p>On the rising tide, like a bridge of boats.</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>Meanwhile, impatient to mount and ride,</p> +<p>Booted and spurred with a heavy stride,</p> +<p>On the opposite shore walked Paul Revere.</p> +<p>Now he patted his horse's side,</p> +<p>Now gazed on the landscape far and near,</p> +<p>Then impetuous stamped the earth,</p> +<p>And turned and tightened his saddle-girth;</p> +<p>But mostly he watched with eager search</p> +<p>The belfry-tower of the old North Church,</p> +<p>As it rose above the graves on the hill,</p> +<p>Lonely, and spectral, and sombre, and still.</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>And lo! as he looks, on the belfry's height,</p> +<p>A glimmer, and then a gleam of light!</p> +<p>He springs to the saddle, the bridle he turns,</p> +<p>But lingers and gazes, till full on his sight</p> +<p>A second lamp in the belfry burns.</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>A hurry of hoofs in a village-street,</p> +<p>A shape in the moonlight, a bulk in the dark,</p> +<p>And beneath from the pebbles, in passing, a spark</p> +<p>Struck out by a steed that flies fearless and fleet:</p> +<p>That was all! And yet, through the gloom and the light,</p> +<p>The fate of a nation was riding that night;</p> +<p>And the spark struck out by that steed, in his flight,</p> +<p>Kindled the land into flame with its heat.</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>It was twelve by the village-clock,</p> +<p>When he crossed the bridge into Medford town,</p> +<p>He heard the crowing of the cock,</p> +<p>And the barking of the farmer's dog,</p> +<p>And felt the damp of the river-fog,</p> +<p>That rises when the sun goes down.</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>It was one by the village-clock,</p> +<p>When he rode into Lexington.</p> +<p>He saw the gilded weathercock</p> +<p>Swim in the moonlight as he passed,</p> +<p>And the meeting-house windows, blank and bare,</p> +<p>Gaze at him with a spectral glare,</p> +<p>As if they already stood aghast</p> +<p>At the bloody work they would look upon.</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>It was two by the village-clock,</p> +<p>When he came to the bridge in Concord town.</p> +<p>He heard the bleating of the flock,</p> +<p>And the twitter of birds among the trees,</p> +<p>And felt the breath of the morning-breeze</p> +<p>Blowing over the meadows brown.</p> +<p>And one was safe and asleep in his bed,</p> +<p>Who at the bridge would be first to fall,</p> +<p>Who that day would be lying dead,</p> +<p>Pierced by a British musket-ball.</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>You know the rest. In the books you have read</p> +<p>How the British regulars fired and fled—</p> +<p>How the farmers gave them ball for ball,</p> +<p>From behind each fence and farmyard-wall,</p> +<p>Chasing the red-coats down the lane,</p> +<p>Then crossing the fields to emerge again</p> +<p>Under the trees at the turn of the road,</p> +<p>And only pausing to fire and load.</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>So through the night rode Paul Revere;</p> +<p>And so through the night went his cry of alarm</p> +<p>To every Middlesex village and farm—</p> +<p>A cry of defiance, and not of fear—</p> +<p>A voice in the darkness, a knock at the door,</p> +<p>And a word that shall echo for evermore!</p> +<p>For, borne on the night-wind of the Past,</p> +<p>Through all our history, to the last,</p> +<p>In the hour of darkness, and peril, and need,</p> +<p>The people will waken and listen to hear</p> +<p>The hurrying hoof-beat of that steed,</p> +<p>And the midnight-message of Paul Revere.</p> + </div> </div> + +<p class="author">HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW.</p> + + + + +<h2>TWO PERSIAN SCHOOLBOYS.</h2> + + +<div class="figleft" style="width:35%;"><a href="images/104.png"><img width="100%" src="images/104.png" alt="" /></a></div> + +<p>"Wake, Otanes, wake, the Magi are singing +the morning hymn to Mithras. +Quick, or we shall be late at the exercises, +and father promised, if we +did well, we should go to the chase +with him to-day."</p> + +<p>"And perhaps shoot a lion. What +a feather in our caps that would be! Is it pleasant?"</p> + +<p>Smerdis pulled open the shutters that closed the windows, +and the first rays of the sun sparkled on the trees and fountains +of a beautiful garden beyond whose lofty walls appeared the +dwellings and towers of a mighty city. Already the low roar +of its traffic reached them while hurrying on their clothes to join +their companions in the spacious grounds where they were +trained in wrestling, throwing blocks of wood at each other to +acquire agility in dodging the missiles, the skilful use of the +bow, and various other exercises for the development of bodily +strength and grace.</p> + +<p>A few minutes later the two brothers, Smerdis and Otanes, +with scores of other lads, ranging in age from seven to fourteen +years, were assembled in a vast playground, surrounded on all +sides by a lofty wall.</p> + +<p>The playground of a large boarding-school?</p> + +<p>It almost might be called so, but the pupils of this boarding-school +were educated free of expense to their parents, and it received +only the sons of the highest nobles in the land. This playground +was attached to the palace of Darius, King of Persia, who +reigned twenty-four hundred years ago, and these chosen boys +had been taken from their homes, as they reached the age of +six years, to be reared "at his gate," as the language of the country +expressed it.</p> + +<p>Otanes and Smerdis were sons of one of the highest officers +of the court, the "ear of the king," or, as he would now be called, +the Minister of Police. Handsome little fellows of eleven and +twelve, with blue eyes, fair complexions, and curling yellow +locks, their long training in all sorts of physical exercises had +made them stronger and hardier than most lads of their age +in our time. Though reared in a palace, at one of the most +splendid courts the world has ever seen, the boys were expected +to endure the hardships of the poorest laborer's children. Instead +of the gold and silver bedsteads used by the nobles, they +were obliged to sleep on the floor; if the court was at Babylon, +they were forced to make long marches under the burning sun +of Asia, and if, to escape the intense heat, the king removed to +his summer palaces at Ecbatana and Pasargadæ, situated in the +mountainous regions of Persia, where it was often bitterly cold, +the boys were ordered to bathe in the icy water of the rivers +flowing from the heights. In place of the dainty dishes and +sweetmeats for which Persian cooks were famous, they were +allowed nothing but bread, water, and a little meat; sometimes +to accustom them to hardships they were deprived entirely of +food for a day or even longer.</p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width:100%;"><a href="images/106.png"><img width="100%" src="images/106.png" alt="THE BOYS HURRIED OFF TOWARD HOME." /></a>THE BOYS HURRIED OFF TOWARD HOME.</div> + +<p>On this morning the exercises seemed specially long to the +two brothers, full of anticipations of pleasure; but finally the +last block of wood was hurled, the last arrow shot, the last wrestling +match ended, and the boys, bearing a sealed roll of papyrus, +containing a leave of absence for one day, hurried off towards +home.</p> + +<p>Their father's palace stood at no great distance from the +royal residence, on the long, wide street extending straight to +the city gates, and like the houses of all the Persian nobles, was +surrounded by a beautiful walled garden called a paradise, laid +out with flower-beds of roses, poppies, oleanders, ornamental +plants, adorned with fountains, and shaded by lofty trees.</p> + +<p>The hunting party was nearly ready to start, and the courtyard +was thronged. Servants rushed to and fro bearing shields, +swords, lances, bows and lassos, for a hunter was always +equipped with bow and arrows, two lances, a sword and a shield. +Others held in leash the dogs to be used in starting the game.</p> + +<p>The enormous preserves in the neighborhood of Babylon +were well stocked with animals, including stags, wild boars, and +a few lions. Several noblemen clad in the plain hunting costume +always worn in the chase, were already mounted, among +them the father of the two lads, who greeted them affectionately +as they respectfully approached and kissed his hand.</p> + +<p>"Make haste, boys, your horses are ready. Take only bows +and shields—the swords and lances will be in your way; you +must not try to deal with larger game than you can manage with +your arrows."</p> + +<p>"May we not carry daggers in our belts, too, father?" cried +Otanes eagerly. "They can't be in our way, and if we should +meet a lion—"</p> + +<p>A laugh from the group of nobles interrupted him. "Your +son seeks large game, Intaphernes!" exclaimed a handsome officer. +"He must have better weapons than a bow and dagger, +if—"</p> + +<p>The rest of the sentence was drowned by the noise in the +courtyard, but as the party rode towards the gate Intaphernes +looked back: "Yes, take the daggers, it can do no harm. Keep +with Candaules."</p> + +<p>The old slave, a gray-haired, but muscular man, with several +other attendants, joined the lads, and the long train passed out +into the street and toward the city gates. Otanes hastily whispered +to his brother: "Keep close by me, Smerdis; if only we +catch sight of a lion, we'll show what we can do with bows and +arrows."</p> + +<p>The sun was now several hours high, and the streets, lined +with tall brick houses, were crowded with people—artisans, +slaves, soldiers, nobles and citizens, the latter clad in white linen +shirts, gay woollen tunics and short cloaks. Two-wheeled +wooden vehicles, drawn by horses decked with bells and tassels, +litters containing veiled women borne by slaves, and now and +then, the superb gilded carriage, hung with silk curtains, of +some royal princess passed along. Here and there a heavily +laden camel moved slowly by, and the next instant a soldier +of the king's bodyguard dashed past in his superb uniform—a +gold cuirass, purple surcoat, and high Persian cap, the gold +scabbard of his sword and the gold apple on his lance-tip flashing +in the sun.</p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width:100%;"><a href="images/108.png"><img width="100%" src="images/108.png" alt="THE HUNTING PARTY WERE NEARLY READY TO START." /></a>THE HUNTING PARTY WERE NEARLY READY TO START.</div> + +<p>High above the topmost roofs of even the lofty towers on +the walls rose the great sanctuary of the Magi,<a id="footnotetag1" name="footnotetag1"></a><a href="#footnote1"><sup>1</sup></a> the immense +Temple of Bel, visible in all quarters of the city, and seen for +miles from every part of the flat plain on which Babylon stood. +The huge staircase wound like a serpent round and round the +outside of the building to the highest story, which contained +the sanctuary itself and also the observatory whence the priests +studied the stars.</p> + +<p>Otanes and Smerdis, chatting eagerly together, rode on as +fast as the crowd would permit, and soon reached one of the +gates in the huge walls that defended the city. These walls, +seventy-five feet high, and wide enough to allow two chariots +to drive abreast, were strengthened by two hundred and fifty +towers, except on one side, where deep marshes extended to their +base. Beyond these marshes lay the hunting-grounds, and the +party, turning to the left, rode for a time over a smooth highway, +between broad tracts of land sown with wheat, barley and +sesame. Slender palm-trees covered with clusters of golden dates +were seen in every direction, and the sunbeams shimmered on +the canals and ditches which conducted water from the Euphrates +to all parts of the fields.</p> + +<p>Otanes' horse suddenly shied violently as a rider, mounted +on a fleet steed, and carrying a large pouch, dashed by like the +wind.</p> + +<p>"One of the Augari bearing letters to the next station!" exclaimed +Smerdis. "See how he skims along. Hi! If I were +not to be one of the king's bodyguard, I'd try for an Augar's +place. How he goes! He's almost out of sight already."</p> + +<p>"How far apart are the stations?" asked Otanes.</p> + +<p>"Eighteen miles. And when he gets there, he'll just toss +the letter bag to the next man, who is sitting on a fresh horse +waiting for it, and away <i>he'll</i> go like lightning. That's the way +the news is carried to the very end of the empire of our lord the +King."</p> + +<p>"Must be fine fun," replied Otanes. "But see, there's the +gate of the hunting-park. Now for the lion," he added gayly.</p> + +<p>"May Ormuzd<a id="footnotetag2" name="footnotetag2"></a><a href="#footnote2"><sup>2</sup></a> save you from meeting one, my young +master," said the old servant, Candaules. "Luckily it's broad +daylight, and they are more apt to come from their lairs after +dark. Better begin with smaller game and leave the lion and +wild boars to your father."</p> + +<p>"Not if we catch sight of them," cried Otanes, settling his +shield more firmly on his arm, and urging his horse to a quicker +pace, for the head of the long train of attendants had already +disappeared amid the dark cypress-trees of the hunting park. +The immense enclosure stretching from the edge of the morasses +that bordered the walls of Babylon far into the country, soon +echoed with the shouts of the attendants beating the coverts for +game, the baying of the dogs, the hiss of lances and whir of +arrows. Bright-hued birds, roused by the tumult, flew wildly +hither and thither, now and then the superb plumage of a bird +of paradise flashing like a jewel among the dense foliage of +cypress and nut-trees.</p> + +<p>Hour after hour sped swiftly away; the party had dispersed +in different directions, following the course of the game; the +sun was sinking low, and the slaves were bringing the slaughtered +birds and beasts to the wagons used to convey them home. +A magnificent stag was among the spoil, and a fierce wild boar, +after a long struggle, had fallen under a thrust from Intaphernes's +lance.</p> + +<p>The shrill blast of the Median trumpet sounded thrice, to +give the first of the three signals for the scattered hunters to +meet at the appointed place, near the entrance of the park, and +the two young brothers who, attended by Candaules and half a +dozen slaves, had ridden far into the shady recesses of the woods, +reluctantly turned their horses' heads. No thought of disobeying +the summons entered their minds—Persian boys were taught +that next to truth and courage, obedience was the highest virtue, +and rarely was a command transgressed.</p> + +<p>They had had a good day's sport; few arrows remained in +their quivers, and the attendants carried bunches of gay plumaged +birds and several small animals, among them a pretty little +fawn. "Let's go nearer the marshes; there are not so many trees, +and we can ride faster," said Otanes as the trumpet-call was repeated, +and the little party turned in that direction, moving +more swiftly as they passed out upon the strip of open ground +between the thicket and the marshes. The sun was just setting. +The last crimson rays, shimmering on the pools of water standing +here and there in the morasses, cast reflections on the tall reeds +and rushes bordering their margins.</p> + +<p>Suddenly a pretty spotted fawn darted in front of the group, +and crossing the open ground, vanished amid a thick clump of +reeds. "What a nice pet the little creature would make for our +sister Hadassah!" cried Otanes eagerly. "See! it has hidden +among the reeds; we might take it alive. Go with Candaules +and the slaves, Smerdis, and form a half-circle beyond the +clump. When you're ready, whistle, and I'll ride straight down +and drive it towards you; you can easily catch it then. We are +so near the entrance of the park now that we shall have plenty +of time; the third signal hasn't sounded yet."</p> + +<p>Smerdis instantly agreed to the plan. The horses were fastened +to some trees, and the men cautiously made a wide circuit, +passed the bed of reeds, and concealed themselves, behind the +tall rushes beyond. A low whistle gave Otanes the signal to +drive out the fawn.</p> + +<p>Smerdis and the slaves saw the lad straighten himself in the +saddle, and with a shout, dash at full speed towards the spot +where the fawn had vanished. He had almost reached it when +the stiff stalks shook violently, and a loud roar made them all +spring to their feet. They saw the brave boy check his horse +and fit an arrow to the string, but as he drew the bow, there +was a stronger rustle among the reeds; a tawny object flashed +through the air, striking Otanes from his saddle, while the +horse free from its rider, dashed, snorting with terror, towards +the park entrance.</p> + +<p>"A lion! A lion!" shrieked the trembling slaves, but +Smerdis, drawing his dagger, ran towards the place where his +brother had fallen, passing close by the body of the fawn which +lay among the reeds with its head crushed by a blow from the +lion's paw. Candaules followed close at the lad's heels.</p> + +<p>Parting the thick growth of stalks, they saw, only a few +paces off, Otanes, covered with blood, lying motionless on the +ground, and beside him the dead body of a half-grown lion, the +boy's arrow buried in one eye, while the blood still streamed +from the lance-wound in the animal's side.</p> + +<p>Smerdis, weeping, threw himself beside his brother, and at +the same moment Intaphernes, with several nobles and attendants, +attracted by the cries, dashed up to the spot. The father, +springing from the saddle, bent, and laid his hand on the boy's +heart.</p> + +<p>"It is beating still, and strongly too," he exclaimed. "Throw +water in his face! perhaps—"</p> + +<p>Without finishing the sentence, he carefully examined the +motionless form. "Ormuzd be praised! He has no wound; the +blood has flowed from the lion. See, Prexaspes, there is a lance-head +sticking in its side. I believe it's the very beast you +wounded early in the day."</p> + +<p>The officer whose laugh had so vexed Otanes, stooped over +the dead lion and looked at the broken shaft.</p> + +<p>"Ay, it's my weapon; the beast probably made its way to +the morass for water; but, by Mithras!<a id="footnotetag3" name="footnotetag3"></a><a href="#footnote3"><sup>3</sup></a> the lad's arrow killed +the brute; the barb passed through the eyeball into the brain."</p> + +<p>"Yes, my lord," cried old Candaules eagerly, "and doubtless +it was only the weight of the animal, which, striking my +young master as it made its spring, hurled him from the saddle +and stunned him. See! he is opening his eyes. Otanes, Otanes, +you've killed the lion!"</p> + +<p>The boy's eyelids fluttered, then slowly rose, his eyes wandered +over the group, and at last rested on the dead lion. The +old slave's words had evidently reached his ear, for with a faint +smile he glanced archly at Prexaspes, and raising himself on one +elbow, said:</p> + +<p>"You see, my lord—even with a bow and dagger!"</p> + +<p class="author">MARY J. SAFFORD.</p> + +<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote1" name="footnote1"></a><b>Footnote 1: </b><a href="#footnotetag1">(return) </a><p>The Magi were the Persian priests.</p></blockquote> + +<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote2" name="footnote2"></a><b>Footnote 2: </b><a href="#footnotetag2">(return) </a><p>The principal god of the Persians.</p></blockquote> + +<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote3" name="footnote3"></a><b>Footnote 3: </b><a href="#footnotetag3">(return) </a><p>The Persian god of the sun.</p></blockquote> + + + + +<h2>DO YOU KNOW HIM?</h2> + + +<div class="figright" style="width:60%;"><a href="images/114.png"><img width="100%" src="images/114.png" alt="COULDN'T BEAR TO BE LAUGHED AT." /></a>COULDN'T BEAR TO BE LAUGHED AT.</div> + +<div class="poem"> <div class="stanza"> +<p>There was once a small boy—he might measure four feet;</p> +<p class="i2">His conduct was perfectly splendid,</p> +<p>His manners were good, and his temper was sweet,</p> +<p>His teeth and his hair were uncommonly neat,</p> +<p class="i2">In fact he could not be amended.</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>His smile was so bright, and his word was so kind,</p> +<p class="i2">His hand was so quick to assist it,</p> +<p>His wits were so clever, his air so refined,</p> +<p>There was something so nice in him, body and mind,</p> +<p class="i2">That you never could try to resist it.</p> + </div> </div> + + + + +<h2>THE WEAVER OF BRUGES.</h2> + + +<div class="figright" style="width:55%;"><a href="images/115.png"><img width="100%" src="images/115.png" alt="" /></a></div> + +<div class="poem"> <div class="stanza"> +<p>The strange old streets of Bruges town</p> +<p class="i2">Lay white with dust and summer sun,</p> +<p>The tinkling goat bells slowly passed</p> +<p class="i2">At milking-time, ere day was done.</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>An ancient weaver, at his loom,</p> +<p class="i2">With trembling hands his shuttle plied,</p> +<p>While roses grew beneath his touch,</p> +<p class="i2">And lovely hues were multiplied.</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>The slant sun, through the open door,</p> +<p class="i2">Fell bright, and reddened warp and woof,</p> +<p>When with a cry of pain a little bird,</p> +<p class="i2">A nestling stork, from off the roof,</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>Sore wounded, fluttered in and sat</p> +<p class="i2">Upon the old man's outstretched hand;</p> +<p>"Dear Lord," he murmured, under breath,</p> +<p class="i2">"Hast thou sent me this little friend?"</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>And to his lonely heart he pressed</p> +<p class="i2">The little one, and vowed no harm</p> +<p>Should reach it there; so, day by day,</p> +<p class="i2">Caressed and sheltered by his arm,</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>The young stork grew apace, and from</p> +<p class="i2">The loom's high beams looked down with eyes</p> +<p>Of silent love upon his ancient friend,</p> +<p class="i2">As two lone ones might sympathize.</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>At last the loom was hushed: no more</p> +<p class="i2">The deftly handled shuttle flew;</p> +<p>No more the westering sunlight fell</p> +<p class="i2">Where blushing silken roses grew.</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>And through the streets of Bruges town</p> +<p class="i2">By strange hands cared for, to his last</p> +<p>And lonely rest, 'neath darkening skies,</p> +<p class="i2">The ancient weaver slowly passed;</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>Then strange sight met the gaze of all:</p> +<p class="i2">A great white stork, with wing-beats slow,</p> +<p>Too sad to leave the friend he loved,</p> +<p class="i2">With drooping head, flew circling low,</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>And ere the trampling feet had left</p> +<p class="i2">The new-made mound, dropt slowly down,</p> +<p>And clasped the grave in his white wings</p> +<p class="i2">His pure breast on the earth so brown.</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>Nor food, nor drink, could lure him thence,</p> +<p class="i2">Sunrise nor fading sunsets red;</p> +<p>When little children came to see,</p> +<p class="i2">The great white stork—was dead.</p> + </div> </div> + +<p class="author">M.M.P. DINSMOOR.</p> + + + + +<h2>THE MAN IN THE TUB.</h2> + + +<div class="poem"> <div class="stanza"> +<p><img width="10%" src="images/ltr-c.png" alt="[Illuminated letter] C" />ome here, little folks, while I rub and I rub!</p> +<p>O, there once was a man who lived in a tub,</p> +<p>In a classical town far over the seas;</p> +<p>The name of this fellow was Diogenes.</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>And this is the story: it happened one day</p> +<p>That a wonderful king came riding that way;</p> +<p>Said he, to the man in the tub, "How d'ye do?</p> +<p>I'm Great Alexander; now, pray, who are you?"</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>O, yes, to be clean you must rub, you must rub!</p> +<p>Though he lived and he slept and ate in a tub,</p> +<p>This singular man, in towns where he halted,</p> +<p>History tells us was greatly exalted.</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>He rose in his tub: "I am Diogenes."</p> +<p>"Dear me," quoth the king, who'd been over the seas,</p> +<p>"I've heard of you often; now, what can I do</p> +<p>To aid such a wise individual as you?"</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>Could one expect manners, I ask, as I rub,</p> +<p>From a man quite content to live in a tub?</p> +<p>"Get out of my sunlight," growled Diogenes</p> +<p>To this affable king who'd been o'er the seas.</p> + </div> </div> + +<p class="author">MAY E. STONE.</p> + + + + +<h2>THE LITTLE GOLD MINERS OF THE SIERRAS.</h2> + + +<p><img width="10%" src="images/ltr-t.png" alt="[Illuminated letter] T" />heir mother had died crossing the plains, and their +father had had a leg broken by a wagon wheel passing +over it as they descended the Sierras, and he was for +a long time after reaching the mines miserable, lame +and poor.</p> + +<p>The eldest boy, Jim Keene, as I remember him, was a bright +little fellow, but wild as an Indian and full of mischief. The +next eldest child, Madge, was a girl of ten, her father's favorite, +and she was wild enough too. The youngest was Stumps. Poor, +timid, starved Little Stumps! I never knew his real name. But +he was the baby, and hardly yet out of petticoats. And he was +very short in the legs, very short in the body, very short in the +arms and neck; and so he was called Stumps because he looked +it. In fact he seemed to have stopped growing entirely. Oh, +you don't know how hard the old Plains were on everybody, +when we crossed them in ox-wagons, and it took more than half +a year to make the journey. The little children, those that did +not die, turned brown like the Indians, in that long, dreadful +journey of seven months, and stopped growing for a time.</p> + +<p>For the first month or two after reaching the Sierras, old +Mr. Keene limped about among the mines trying to learn the +mystery of finding gold, and the art of digging. But at last, +having grown strong enough, he went to work for wages, to get +bread for his half-wild little ones, for they were destitute indeed.</p> + +<p>Things seemed to move on well, then. Madge cooked the +simple meals, and Little Stumps clung to her dress with his little +pinched brown hand wherever she went, while Jim whooped it +over the hills and chased jack-rabbits as if he were a greyhound. +He would climb trees, too, like a squirrel. And, oh!—it was +deplorable—but how he could swear!</p> + +<p>At length some of the miners, seeing the boy must come to +some bad end if not taken care of, put their heads and their +pockets together and sent the children to school. This school +was a mile away over the beautiful brown hills, a long, pleasant +walk under the green California oaks.</p> + +<p>Well, Jim would take the little tin dinner bucket, and his +slate, and all their books under his arm and go booming ahead +about half a mile in advance, while Madge with brown Little +Stumps clinging to her side like a burr, would come stepping +along the trail under the oak-trees as fast as she could after him.</p> + +<p>But if a jack-rabbit, or a deer, or a fox crossed Jim's path, +no matter how late it was, or how the teacher had threatened him, +he would drop books, lunch, slate and all, and spitting on his +hands and rolling up his sleeves, would bound away after it, +yelling like a wild Indian. And some days, so fascinating was +the chase, Jim did not appear at the schoolhouse at all; and of +course Madge and Stumps played truant too. Sometimes a +week together would pass and the Keene children would not be +seen at the schoolhouse. Visits from the schoolmaster produced +no lasting effect. The children would come for a day or two, +then be seen no more. The schoolmaster and their father at last +had a serious talk about the matter.</p> + +<p>"What <i>can</i> I do with him?" said Mr. Keene.</p> + +<p>"You'll have to put him to work," said the schoolmaster. +"Set him to hunting nuggets instead of bird's-nests. I guess +what the boy wants is some honest means of using his strength. +He's a good boy, Mr. Keene; don't despair of him. Jim would +be proud to be an 'honest miner.' Jim's a good boy, Mr. Keene."</p> + +<p>"Well, then, thank you, Schoolmaster," said Mr. Keene. +"Jim's a good boy; and Madge is good, Mr. Schoolmaster; and +poor starved and stunted motherless Little Stumps, he is good as +gold, Mr. Schoolmaster. And I want to be a mother to 'em—I +want to be father and mother to 'em all, Mr. Schoolmaster. And +I'll follow your advice. I'll put 'em all to work a-huntin' +for gold."</p> + +<p>The next day away up on the hillside under a pleasant oak, +where the air was sweet and cool, and the ground soft and dotted +over with flowers, the tender-hearted old man that wanted to be +"father and mother both," "located" a claim. The flowers were +kept fresh by a little stream of waste water from the ditch that +girded the brow of the hill above. Here he set a sluice-box and +put his three little miners at work with pick, pan and shovel. +There he left them and limped back to his own place in the mine +below.</p> + +<p>And how they did work! And how pleasant it was here +under the broad boughs of the oak, with the water rippling +through the sluice on the soft, loose soil which they shoveled +into the long sluice-box. They could see the mule-trains going +and coming, and the clouds of dust far below which told them +the stage was whirling up the valley. But Jim kept steadily on +at his work day after day. Even though jack-rabbits and squirrels +appeared on the very scene, he would not leave till, like the +rest of the honest miners, he could shoulder his pick and pan +and go down home with the setting sun.</p> + +<p>Sometimes the men who had tried to keep the children at +school, would come that way, and with a sly smile, talk very +wisely about whether or not the new miners would "strike it" +under the cool oak among the flowers on the hill. But Jim never +stopped to talk much. He dug and wrestled away, day after +day, now up to his waist in the pit.</p> + +<p>One Saturday evening the old man limped up the hillside to +help the young miners "clean up."</p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width:100%;"><a href="images/121.png"><img width="100%" src="images/121.png" alt="'COLOR! TWO COLORS! THREE, FOUR, FIVE—A DOZEN!'" /></a>"COLOR! TWO COLORS! THREE, FOUR, FIVE—A DOZEN!"</div> + +<p>He sat down at the head of the sluice-box and gave directions +how they should turn off the most of the water, wash down +the "toilings" very low, lift up the "riffle," brush down the +"apron," and finally set the pan in the lower end of the "sluice-toil" +and pour in the quicksilver to gather up and hold the gold.</p> + +<p>"What for you put your hand in de water for, papa?" +queried Little Stumps, who had left off his work, which consisted +mainly of pulling flowers and putting them in the sluice-box +to see them float away. He was sitting by his father's side, +and he looked up in his face as he spoke.</p> + +<p>"Hush, child," said the old man softly, as he again dipped +his thumb and finger in his vest pocket as if about to take snuff. +But he did not take snuff. Again his hand was reached down to +the rippling water at the head of the sluice-box. And this time +curious but obedient Little Stumps was silent.</p> + +<p>Suddenly there was a shout, such a shout from Jim as the +hills had not heard since he was a schoolboy.</p> + +<p>He had found the "color." "Two colors! three, four, five—a +dozen!" The boy shouted like a Modoc, threw down the brush +and scraper, and kissed his little sister over and over, and cried as +he did so; then he whispered softly to her as he again took up +his brush and scraper, that it was "for papa; all for poor papa; +that he did not care for himself, but he did want to help poor, +tired, and crippled papa." But papa did not seem to be excited +so very much.</p> + +<p>The little miners were now continually wild with excitement. +They were up and at work Monday morning at dawn. +The men who were in the father's tender secret, congratulated +the children heartily and made them presents of several small +nuggets to add to their little hoard.</p> + +<p>In this way they kept steadily at work for half the summer. +All the gold was given to papa to keep. Papa weighed it each +week, and I suppose secretly congratulated himself that he was +getting back about as much as he put in.</p> + +<p>Before quite the end of the third month, Jim struck a thin +bed of blue gravel. The miners who had been happily chuckling +and laughing among themselves to think how they had managed +to keep Jim out of mischief, began to look at each other and +wonder how in the world blue gravel ever got up there on the +hill. And in a few days more there was a well-defined bed of +blue gravel, too; and not one of the miners could make it out.</p> + +<p>One Saturday evening shortly after, as the old man weighed +their gold he caught his breath, started, and stood up straight; +straighter than he had stood since he crossed the Plains. Then +he hastily left the cabin. He went up the hill to the children's +claim almost without limping. Then he took a pencil and an old +piece of a letter, and wrote out a notice and tacked it up on the +big oak-tree, claiming those mining claims according to miners' +law, for the three children. A couple of miners laughed as they +went by in the twilight, to see what he was doing; and he laughed +with them. But as he limped on down the hill he smiled.</p> + +<p>That night as they sat at supper, he told the children that as +they had been such faithful and industrious miners, he was going +to give them each a present, besides a little gold to spend as they +pleased.</p> + +<p>So he went up to the store and bought Jim a red shirt, long +black and bright gum boots, a broad-brimmed hat, and a belt. +He also bought each of the other children some pretty trappings, +and gave each a dollar's worth of gold dust. Madge and Stumps +handed their gold back to "poor papa." But Jim was crazy +with excitement. He put on his new clothes and went forth to +spend his dollar. And what do you suppose he bought? I hesitate +to tell you. But what he bought was a pipe and a paper of +tobacco!</p> + +<p>That red shirt, that belt and broad-brimmed hat, together +with the shiny top boots, had been too much for Jim's balance. +How could a man—he spoke of himself as a man now—how +could a man be an "honest miner" and not smoke a pipe?</p> + +<p>And now with his manly clothes and his manly pipe he was +to be so happy! He had all that went to make up "the honest +miner." True, he did not let his father know about the pipe. He +hid it under his pillow at night. He meant to have his first +smoke at the sluice-box, as a miner should.</p> + +<p>Monday morning he was up with the sun and ready for his +work. His father, who worked down the Gulch, had already +gone before the children had finished their breakfast. So now +Jim filled his bran-new pipe very leisurely; and with as much +calm unconcern as if he had been smoking for forty years, he +stopped to scratch a match on the door as he went out.</p> + +<p>From under his broad hat he saw his little sister watching +him, and he fairly swelled with importance as Stumps looked up +at him with childish wonder. Leaving Madge to wash the few +tin dishes and follow as she could with Little Stumps, he started +on up the hill, pipe in mouth.</p> + +<p>He met several miners, but he puffed away like a tug-boat +against the tide, and went on. His bright new boots whetted and +creaked together, the warm wind lifted the broad brim of his +<i>sombrero</i>, and his bright new red shirt was really beautiful, with +the green grass and oaks for a background—and so this brave +young man climbed the hill to his mine. Ah, he was so happy!</p> + +<p>Suddenly, as he approached the claim, his knees began to +smite together, and he felt so weak he could hardly drag one foot +after the other. He threw down his pick; he began to tremble +and spin around. The world seemed to be turning over and +over, and he trying in vain to hold on to it. He jerked the pipe +from his teeth, and throwing it down on the bank, he tumbled +down too, and clutching at the grass with both hands tried hard, +oh! so hard, to hold the world from slipping from under him.</p> + +<p>"Oh, Jim! you are white as snow," cried Madge as she +came up.</p> + +<p>"White as 'er sunshine, an' blue, an' green too, sisser. Look +at brurrer 'all colors,'" piped Little Stumps pitifully.</p> + +<p>"O, Jim, Jim—brother Jim, what is the matter?" sobbed +Madge.</p> + +<p>"Sunstroke," murmured the young man, smiling grimly, +like a true Californian. "No; it is not sunstroke, it's—it's cholera," +he added in dismay over his falsehood.</p> + +<p>Poor boy! he was sorry for this second lie too. He fairly +groaned in agony of body and soul.</p> + +<p>Oh, how he did hate that pipe! How he did want to get +up and jump on it and smash it into a thousand pieces! But he +could not get up or turn around or move at all without betraying +his unmanly secret.</p> + +<p>A couple of miners came up, but Jim feebly begged them +to go.</p> + +<p>"Sunstroke," whispered the sister.</p> + +<p>"No; tolera," piped poor Little Stumps.</p> + +<p>"Get out! Leave me!" groaned the young red-shirted +miner of the Sierras.</p> + +<p>The biggest of the two miners bent over him a moment.</p> + +<p>"Yes; it's both," he muttered. "Cholera-nicotine-fantum!" +Then he looked at his partner and winked wickedly. Without +a word, he took the limp young miner up in his arms and bore +him down the hill to his father's cabin, while Stumps and Madge +ran along at either side, and tenderly and all the time kept asking +what was good for "cholera."</p> + +<p>The other old "honest miner" lingered behind to pick up +the baleful pipe which he knew was somewhere there; and when +the little party was far enough down the hill, he took it up and +buried it in his own capacious pocket with a half-sorrowful +laugh. "Poor little miner," he sighed.</p> + +<p>"Don't ever swear any more, Windy," pleaded the boy to the +miner who had carried him down the hill, as he leaned over +him, "and don't never lie. I am going to die, Windy, and I +should like to be +good. Windy, it +<i>ain't</i> sunstroke, +it's" ...</p> + +<div class="figleft" style="width:60%;"><a href="images/126.png"><img width="100%" src="images/126.png" alt="HE TOOK THE LIMP YOUNG MINER IN HIS ARMS." /></a>HE TOOK THE LIMP YOUNG MINER IN HIS ARMS.</div> + +<p>"Hush yer +mouth," growled +Windy. "I know +what 'tis! We've left +it on the hill."</p> + +<p>The boy turned +his face to the wall. +The conviction was +strong upon him that +he was going to die, +The world spun +round now very, +very fast indeed. +Finally, half-rising +in bed, he called +Little Stumps to his +side:</p> + +<p>"Stumps, dear, +good Little Stumps, +if I die don't you +never try for to +smoke; for that's +what's the matter +with me. No, Stumps—dear little brother Stumps—don't you +never try for to go the whole of the 'honest miner,' for it can't be +did by a boy! We're nothing but boys, you and I, Stumps—Little +Stumps."</p> + +<p>He sank back in bed and Little Stumps and his sister cried +and cried, and kissed him and kissed him.</p> + +<p>The miners who had gathered around loved him now, every +one, for daring to tell the truth and take the shame of his folly +so bravely.</p> + +<p>"I'm going to die, Windy," groaned the boy.</p> + +<p>Windy could stand no more of it. He took Jim's hand with +a cheery laugh. "Git well in half an hour," said he, "now that +you've out with the truth."</p> + +<p>And so he did. By the time his father came home he was +sitting up; and he ate breakfast the next morning as if nothing +had happened. But he never tried to smoke any more as long as +he lived. And he never lied, and he never swore any more.</p> + +<p>Oh, no! this Jim that I have been telling you of is "Moral +Jim," of the Sierras. The mine? Oh, I almost forgot. Well, +that blue dirt was the old bed of the stream, and it was ten times +richer than where the miners were all at work below. Struck it! +I should say so! Ask any of the old Sierras miners about "The +Children's Claim," if you want to hear just how rich they +struck it.</p> + +<p class="author">JOAQUIN MILLER.</p> + + + + +<h2>OLD GODFREY'S RELIC.</h2> + + +<div class="poem"> <div class="stanza"> +<p><img width="10%" src="images/ltr-a.png" alt="[Illuminated letter] A" /> simple, upright man was he,</p> +<p class="i2">Of spirit undefiled,</p> +<p>Cheerful and hale at seventy-three,</p> +<p class="i2">As any blithesome child.</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>Old Godfrey's friends and neighbors felt</p> +<p class="i2">His due was honest praise;</p> +<p>Ofttimes how fervently they dwelt</p> +<p class="i2">On his brave words and ways!</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>He had no foeman in the land</p> +<p class="i2">Whose deeds or tongue would gall;</p> +<p>Of guileless heart, of liberal hand,</p> +<p class="i2">He smiled on one and all.</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>But most, I think, he smiled on me;</p> +<p class="i2">"Your eyes, dear boy," he said,</p> +<p>"Remind me, though not mournfully,</p> +<p class="i2">Of eyes whose light is dead."</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>How oft beneath his roof I've been</p> +<p class="i2">On eves of wintry blight,</p> +<p>And heard his magic violin</p> +<p class="i2">Make musical the night.</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>No consort by his board was set,</p> +<p class="i2">No child his hearth had known,</p> +<p>Yet of all souls I've ever met,</p> +<p class="i2">His seemed the least alone.</p> + </div> </div> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width:100%;"><a href="images/129.png"><img width="100%" src="images/129.png" alt="Keen Memories of the Thrilling Years That Thronged His Ocean Life." /></a><span class="sc">Keen Memories of the Thrilling Years That Thronged His Ocean Life.</span></div> + +<div class="poem"> <div class="stanza"> +<p>What stories in my eager ears</p> +<p class="i2">He poured of peace or strife;</p> +<p>Keen memories of the thrilling years</p> +<p class="i2">That thronged his ocean life.</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>And oh, he showed such marvellous things</p> +<p class="i2">From unknown sea and shore,</p> +<p>That, brimmed with strange imaginings,</p> +<p class="i2">My boy's brain bubbled o'er!</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>It wandered back o'er many a track</p> +<p class="i2">Of his old life-toil free;</p> +<p>The enchanted calm, the fiery wrack,</p> +<p class="i2">Far off, far off at sea!</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>For once he dared the watery world,</p> +<p class="i2">O'er wild or halcyon waves,</p> +<p>And saw his snow-white sails unfurled</p> +<p class="i2">Above a million graves.</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>Northward he went, thro' ice and sleet,</p> +<p class="i2">Where soon the sunbeams fail,</p> +<p>And followed with an armed fleet</p> +<p class="i2">The wide wake of the whale.</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>Southward he went through airs serene</p> +<p class="i2">Of soft Sicilian noon,</p> +<p>And sang, on level decks, between</p> +<p class="i2">The twilight and the moon.</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>But once—it was a tranquil time,</p> +<p class="i2">An evening half divine,</p> +<p>When the low breeze like murmurous rhyme</p> +<p class="i2">Sighed through the sunset fine.</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>Once, Godfrey from the secret place</p> +<p class="i2">Wherein his treasures lay,</p> +<p>Brought forth, with calmly museful face,</p> +<p class="i2">This relic to the day—</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>A soft tress with a silken tie,</p> +<p class="i2">A brightly shimmering curl;</p> +<p>Such as might shadow goldenly</p> +<p class="i2">The fair brow of a girl.</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>"Oh, lovelier," cried I, "than the dawn</p> +<p class="i2">Auroral mists enfold,</p> +<p>The long and luminous threadlets drawn</p> +<p class="i2">Through this rich curl of gold!</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>"Tell, tell me, o'er whose graceful head</p> +<p class="i2">You saw the ringlet shine?"</p> +<p>Thereon the old man coolly said,</p> +<p class="i2">"<i>Why, lad, the tress is mine!</i></p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>"Look not amazed, but come with me,</p> +<p class="i2">And let me tell you where</p> +<p>And how, one morning fearfully,</p> +<p class="i2">I lost that lock of hair."</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>He led me past his cottage screen</p> +<p class="i2">Of flowers, far down the wood</p> +<p>Where, towering o'er the landscape green,</p> +<p class="i2">A centuried oak-tree stood.</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>"Here is the place," he said, "whereon</p> +<p class="i2">Heaven helped me in sore strait,</p> +<p>And in a March morn's radiance wan</p> +<p class="i2">Turned back the edge of fate!</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>"My father a stout yeoman was,</p> +<p class="i2">And I, in childish pride,</p> +<p>That morning through the dew-drenched grass,</p> +<p class="i2">Walked gladly by his side,</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>"Till <i>here</i> he paused, with glittering steel,</p> +<p class="i2">A prostrate trunk to smite;</p> +<p>How the near woodland seemed to reel</p> +<p class="i2">Beneath his blows of might!</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>"And round about me viciously</p> +<p class="i2">The splinters flashed and flew;</p> +<p>Some sharply grazed the shuddering eye,</p> +<p class="i2">Some pattered down the dew.</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>"Childlike, I strove to pick them up,</p> +<p class="i2">But stumbling forward, sunk,</p> +<p>O'er the wild pea and buttercup,</p> +<p class="i2">Across the smitten trunk.</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>"Just then, with all its ponderous force</p> +<p class="i2">The axe was hurtling down;</p> +<p>What spell could stay its savage course?</p> +<p class="i2">What charm could save my crown?</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>"Too late, too late to stop the blow;</p> +<p class="i2">I shrieked to see it come;</p> +<p>My father's blood grew cold as snow;</p> +<p class="i2">My father's voice was dumb.</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>"He staggered back a moment's space,</p> +<p class="i2">Glaring on earth and skies;</p> +<p>Blank horror in his haggard face,</p> +<p class="i2">Dazed anguish in his eyes.</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>"He searched me close to find my wound;</p> +<p class="i2">He searched with sobbing breath;</p> +<p>But not the smallest gateway found</p> +<p class="i2">Opened to welcome death.</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>"He thanked his God in ardent wise,</p> +<p class="i2">Kneeling 'twixt shine and shade;</p> +<p>Then lowered his still half-moistened eyes</p> +<p class="i2">O'er the keen axe's blade.</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>"<i>Two hairs clung to it!</i>... thence, he turned</p> +<p class="i2">Where the huge log had rolled,</p> +<p>And there in tempered sunlight burned</p> +<p class="i2">A quivering curl of gold.</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>"The small thing looked alive!... it stirred</p> +<p class="i2">By breeze and sunbeam kissed,</p> +<p>And fluttered like an Orient bird,</p> +<p class="i2">Half-glimpsed through sunrise mist.</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>"Oh! keen and sheer the axe-edge smote</p> +<p class="i2">The perfect curl apart!</p> +<p>Even <i>now</i>, through tingling head and throat,</p> +<p class="i2">I feel the old terror dart.</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>"My father kept his treasure long,</p> +<p class="i2">'Mid seasons grave or gay,</p> +<p>Till to death's plaintive curfew-song,</p> +<p class="i2">Calmly he passed away.</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>"I, too, the token still so fair,</p> +<p class="i2">Have held with tendance true;</p> +<p>And dying, this memorial hair</p> +<p class="i2">I'll leave, dear lad, to you!"</p> + </div> </div> + +<p class="author">PAUL H. HAYNE.</p> + + + + +<h2>EVAN COGWELL'S ICE FORT.</h2> + + +<p><img width="10%" src="images/ltr-i.png" alt="[Illuminated letter] I" />n the early days of Northern Ohio, when settlers were +few and far between, Evan Cogswell, a Welsh lad of +sixteen years, found his way thither and began his career +as a laborer, receiving at first but two dollars a month +in addition to his board and "home-made" clothing. He possessed +an intelligent, energetic mind in a sound and vigorous +body, and had acquired in his native parish the elements of an +education in both Welsh and English.</p> + +<p>The story of his life, outlined in a curious old diary containing +the records of sixty-two years, and an entry for more than +twenty-two thousand days, would constitute a history of the region, +and some of its passages would read like high-wrought +romance.</p> + +<p>His first term of service was with a border farmer on the +banks of a stream called Grand River, in Ashtabula County. +It was rather crude farming, however, consisting mostly of felling +trees, cutting wood and saw-logs, burning brush, and digging +out stumps, the axe and pick-axe finding more use than +ordinary farm implements.</p> + +<p>Seven miles down the river, and on the opposite bank, lived +the nearest neighbors, among them a blacksmith who in his trade +served the whole country for twenty miles around. One especial +part of his business was the repairing of axes, called in that day +"jumping," or "upsetting."</p> + +<p>In midwinter Evan's employer left a couple of axes with +the blacksmith for repairs, the job to be done within a week. +At this time the weather was what is termed "settled," with deep +snow, and good "slipping" along the few wildwood roads.</p> + +<p>But three or four days later, there came a "January thaw." +Rain and a warmer temperature melted away much of the snow, +the little river was swelled to a great torrent, breaking up the +ice and carrying it down stream, and the roads became almost +impassable. When the week was up and the farmer wanted the +axes, it was not possible for the horse to travel, and after waiting +vainly for a day or two for a turn in the weather, Evan was +posted off on foot to obtain the needed implements. Delighting +in the change and excitement of such a trip, the boy started before +noon, expecting to reach home again ere dark, as it was not +considered quite safe to journey far by night on account of the +wolves.</p> + +<p>Three miles below, at a narrow place in the river, was the +bridge, consisting of three very long tree-trunks reaching parallel +from bank to bank, and covered with hewn plank. When Evan +arrived here he found that this bridge had been swept away. +But pushing on down stream among the thickets, about half a +mile below, he came upon an immense ice-jam, stretching across +the stream and piled many feet high. Upon this he at once resolved +to make his way over to the road on the other side, for +he was already wearied threading the underbrush. Grand River, +which is a narrow but deep and violent stream, ran roaring and +plunging beneath the masses of ice as if enraged at being so obstructed; +but the lad picked his path in safety and soon stood +on the opposite bank.</p> + +<p>Away he hurried now to the blacksmith's, so as to complete +his errand and return by this precarious crossing before dark.</p> + +<p>But the smith had neglected his duty and Evan had to wait +an hour or more for the axes. At length they were done, and +with one tied at each end of a strong cord and this hung about +his neck, he was off on the homeward trip. To aid his walking, +he procured from the thicket a stout cane. He had hardly gone +two miles when the duskiness gathering in the woods denoted +the nearness of night; yet as the moon was riding high, he pushed +on without fear.</p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width:90%;"><a href="images/136.png"><img width="100%" src="images/136.png" alt="HOMEWARD. SAFELY INTRENCHED." /></a>HOMEWARD. SAFELY INTRENCHED.</div> + +<p>But as he was +skirting a wind-fall +of trees, he came suddenly +upon two or +three wolves apparently +emerging from +their daytime hiding +place for a hunting +expedition. Evan +was considerably +startled; but as they +ran off into the +woods as if +afraid of him, +he took courage +in the hope that +they would not +molest him. In +a few minutes, +however, they +set up that dismal +howling by +which they summon their mates and enlarge their numbers; and +Evan discovered by the sounds that they were following him +cautiously at no great distance.</p> + +<p>Frequent responses were also heard from more distant +points in the woods and from across the river. By this time it +was becoming quite dark, the moonlight penetrating the forest +only along the roadway and in occasional patches among the +trees on either side. The rushing river was not far away, but +above its roar arose every instant the threatening howl of a +wolf. Finally, just as he reached the ice-bridge, the howling +became still, a sign that their numbers emboldened them to enter +in earnest on the pursuit. The species of wolf once so common +in the central States, and making the early farmers so much +trouble, were peculiar in this respect; they were great cowards +singly, and would trail the heels of a traveler howling for recruits, +and not daring to begin the attack until they had collected +a force that insured success; then they became fierce and bold, +and more to be dreaded than any other animal of the wilderness. +And at this point, when they considered their numbers equal to +the occasion, the howling ceased.</p> + +<p>Evan had been told of this, and when the silence began, he +knew its meaning, and his heart shuddered at the prospect. His +only hope lay in the possibility that they might not dare to follow +him across the ice-bridge. But this hope vanished as he approached +the other shore, and saw by the moonlight several of +the gaunt creatures awaiting him on that side. What should he +do? No doubt they would soon muster boldness to follow him +upon the ice, and then his fate would be sealed in a moment.</p> + +<p>In the emergency he thought of the axes, and taking them +from his neck, cut the cord, and thrust his walking-stick into one +as a helve, resolved to defend himself to the last.</p> + +<p>At this instant he espied among the thick, upheaved ice-cakes +two great fragments leaning against each other in such a +way as to form a roof with something like a small room underneath. +Here he saw his only chance. Springing within, he +used the axe to chip off other fragments with which to close up +the entrance, and almost quicker than it can be told, had thus +constructed a sort of fort, which he believed would withstand +the attack of the wolves. At nightfall the weather had become +colder, and he knew that in a few minutes the damp pieces of +ice would be firmly cemented together.</p> + +<p>Hardly had he lifted the last piece to its place, when the +pack came rushing about him, snapping and snarling, but at +first not testing the strength of his intrenchment. When soon +they began to spring against it, and snap at the corners of ice, +the frost had done its work, and they could not loosen his hastily +built wall.</p> + +<p>Through narrow crevices he could look out at them, and at +one time counted sixteen grouped together in council. As the +cold increased he had to keep in motion in order not to freeze, +and any extra action on his part increased the fierceness of the +wolves. At times they would gather in a circle around him, +and after sniffing at him eagerly, set up a doleful howling, as +if deploring the excellent supper they had lost.</p> + +<p>Ere long one of them found an opening at a corner large +enough to admit its head; but Evan was on the alert, and gave it +such a blow with the axe as to cause its death. Soon another +tried the same thing, and met with the same reception, withdrawing +and whirling around several times, and then dropping +dead with a broken skull.</p> + +<p>One smaller than the rest attempting to enter, and receiving +the fatal blow, crawled, in its dying agony, completely into the +enclosure, and lay dead at Evan's feet. Of this he was not sorry, +as his feet were bitterly cold, and the warm carcass of the animal +served to relieve them.</p> + +<p>In the course of the night six wolves were killed as they +sought to creep into his fortress, and several others so seriously +hacked as to send them to the woods again; and, however correct +the notion that when on the hunt they devour their fallen +comrades, in this case they did no such thing, as in the morning +the six dead bodies lay about on the ice, and Evan had the profitable +privilege of taking off their skins.</p> + +<p>Of his thoughts during the night, a quotation from his diary +is quaintly suggestive and characteristic.</p> + +<p>"I bethought me of the wars of Glendower, which I have +read about, and the battle of Grosmont Castle; and I said, 'I am +Owen Glendower; this is my castle; the wolves are the army of +Henry; but I will never surrender or yield as did Glendower.'"</p> + +<p>Toward morning, as the change of weather continued, and +the waters of the river began to diminish, there was suddenly a +prodigious crack and crash of the ice-bridge, and the whole mass +settled several inches. At this the wolves took alarm, and in an +instant fled. Perhaps they might have returned had not the +crackling of the ice been repeated frequently.</p> + +<p>At length Evan became alarmed for his safety, lest the ice +should break up in the current, and bringing his axe to bear, +soon burst his way out and fled to the shore. But not seeing the +ice crumble, he ventured back to obtain the other axe, and then +hastened home to his employer.</p> + +<p>During the day he skinned the wolves, and within a fortnight +pocketed the bounty money, amounting in all to about one +hundred and fifty dollars. With this money he made the first +payment on a large farm, which he long lived to cultivate and +enjoy, and under the sod of which he found a quiet grave.</p> + +<p class="author">IRVING L. BEMAN.</p> + + + + +<h2>HOW THEY BROUGHT THE GOOD NEWS FROM GHENT TO AIX.</h2> + + +<div class="poem"> <div class="stanza"> +<p><img width="10%" src="images/ltr-i.png" alt="[Illuminated letter] I" /> sprang to the stirrup, and Joris and he:</p> +<p>I galloped, Dirck galloped, we galloped all three;</p> +<p>"Good speed!" cried the watch as the gate-bolts undrew,</p> +<p>"Speed!" echoed the wall to us galloping through.</p> +<p>Behind shut the postern, the lights sank to rest,</p> +<p>And into the midnight we galloped abreast.</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>Not a word to each other; we kept the great pace—</p> +<p>Neck by neck, stride by stride, never changing our place;</p> +<p>I turned in my saddle and made its girths tight,</p> +<p>Then shortened each stirrup and set the pique right,</p> +<p>Rebuckled the check-strap, chained slacker the bit,</p> +<p>Nor galloped less steadily Roland a whit.</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>'Twas moonset at starting; but while we drew near</p> +<p>Lokeren, the cocks crew and twilight dawned clear;</p> +<p>At Boom a great yellow star came out to see;</p> +<p>At Düffeld 'twas morning as plain as could be;</p> +<p>And from Mechlin church-steeple we heard the half-chime—</p> +<p>So Joris broke silence with "Yet there is time!"</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>At Aerschot up leaped of a sudden the sun,</p> +<p>And against him the cattle stood black every one,</p> +<p>To stare through the mist at us galloping past;</p> +<p>And I saw my stout galloper Roland at last</p> +<p>With resolute shoulders, each butting away</p> +<p>The haze, as some bluff river headland its spray;</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>And his low head and crest, just one sharp ear bent back</p> +<p>For my voice, and the other pricked out on his track,</p> +<p>And one eye's black intelligence—ever that glance</p> +<p>O'er its white edge at me, his own master, askance;</p> +<p>And the thick heavy spume-flakes, which aye and anon</p> +<p>His fierce lips shook upwards in galloping on.</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>By Hasselt, Dirck groaned; and cried Joris, "Stay spur!</p> +<p>Your Roos galloped bravely, the fault's not in her;</p> +<p>We'll remember at Aix"—for one heard the quick wheeze</p> +<p>Of her chest, saw the stretched neck and staggering knees,</p> +<p>And sunk tail, and horrible heave of the flank,</p> +<p>As down on her haunches she shuddered and sank.</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>So we were left galloping, Joris and I,</p> +<p>Past Looz and past Tongres, no cloud in the sky;</p> +<p>The broad sun above laughed a pitiless laugh;</p> +<p>'Neath our feet broke the brittle bright stubble like chaff;</p> +<p>Till over by Delhem a dome-spire sprung white,</p> +<p>And "Gallop," gasped Joris, "for Aix is in sight!</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>"How they'll greet us!" and all in a moment his roan</p> +<p>Rolled neck and croup over, lay dead as a stone;</p> +<p>And there was my Roland to bear the whole weight</p> +<p>Of the news which alone could save Aix from her fate,</p> +<p>With his nostrils like pits full of blood to the brim,</p> +<p>And with circles of red for his eye-sockets' rim.</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>Then I cast loose my buff-coat, each holster let fall,</p> +<p>Shook off both my jack-boots, let go belt and all,</p> +<p>Stood up in the stirrup, leaned, patted his ear,</p> +<p>Called my Roland his pet name, my horse without peer—</p> +<p>Clapped my hands, laughed and sung, any noise, bad or good,</p> +<p>Till at length into Aix, Roland galloped and stood.</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>And all I remember is friends flocking round,</p> +<p>As I sate with his head twixt my knees on the ground;</p> +<p>And no voice but was praising this Roland of mine</p> +<p>As I poured down his throat our last measure of wine,</p> +<p>Which (the burgesses voted by common consent)</p> +<p>Was no more than his due who brought good news from Ghent.</p> + </div> </div> + +<p class="author">ROBERT BROWNING.</p> + + + + +<h2>A HERO.</h2> + +<h4>(<i>A Story of the American Revolution.</i>)</h4> + + +<p><img width="10%" src="images/ltr-t.png" alt="[Illuminated letter] T" />hey were sitting by the great blazing wood-fire. It +was July, but there was an east wind and the night was +chilly. Besides, Mrs. Heath had a piece of fresh pork +to roast. Squire Blake had "killed" the day before—that was the +term used to signify the slaughter of any domestic animal for +food—and had distributed the "fresh" to various families in +town, and Mrs. Heath wanted hers for the early breakfast. Meat +was the only thing to be had in plenty—meat and berries. Wheat +and corn, and vegetables even, were scarce. There had been a +long winter, and then, too, every family had sent early in the +season all they could possibly spare to the Continental army. As +to sugar and tea and molasses, it was many a day since they had +had even the taste of them.</p> + +<p>The piece of pork was suspended from the ceiling by a stout +string, and slowly revolved before the fire, Dorothy or Arthur +giving it a fresh start when it showed signs of stopping. There +was a settle at right angles with the fireplace, and here the little +cooks sat, Dorothy in the corner nearest the fire, and Arthur +curled up on the floor at her feet, where he could look up the +chimney and see the moon, almost at the full, drifting through +the sky. At the opposite corner sat Abram, the hired man and +faithful keeper of the family in the absence of its head, at work +on an axe helve, while Bathsheba, or "Basha," as she was briefly +and affectionately called, was spinning in one corner of the room +just within range of the firelight.</p> + +<p>There was no other light—the firelight being sufficient for +their needs—and it was necessary to economize in candles, for +any day a raid from the royal army might take away both cattle +and sheep, and then where would the tallow come from for the +annual fall candle-making? There was a rumor—Abram had +brought it home that very day—that the royal army were advancing, +and red coats might make their appearance in Hartland +at any time. Arthur and Dorothy were talking about it, as they +turned the roasting fork.</p> + +<p>"Wish I was a man," said Arthur, glancing towards his +mother, who was sitting in a low splint chair knitting stockings +for her boy's winter wear. "I'd like to shoot a red coat."</p> + +<p>"O Arty!" exclaimed Dorothy reproachfully; "you're always +thinking of shooting! Now <i>I</i> should like to nurse a sick +soldier and wait upon him. Poor soldiers! it was dreadful what +papa wrote to mamma about them."</p> + +<p>"Would you nurse a red coat?" asked Arthur, indignantly.</p> + +<p>"Yes," said Dorothy. "Though of course I should rather, a +great deal rather, nurse one of our own soldiers. But, Arty," +continued the little elder sister, "papa says if we must fight, why, +we must fight bravely, but that we can be brave without fighting."</p> + +<p>"Well, I mean to be a hero, and heroes always fight. King +Arthur fought. Papa said so. He and his knights fought for +the Sangreal, and liberty is our Sangreal. I'm glad my name is +Arthur, anyhow, for Arthur means noble and high," he said, +lifting his bright boyish face with its steadfast blue eyes, and +glancing again towards his mother. She gave an answering +smile.</p> + +<p>"I hope my boy will always be noble and high in thought +and deed. But, as papa said, to be a hero one does not need to +fight, at least, not to fight men. We can fight bad tempers and +bad thoughts and cowardly impulses. They who fight these +things successfully are the truest heroes, my boy."</p> + +<p>"Ah, but mamma, didn't I hear you tell grandmamma how +you were proud of your hero. That's what you called papa when +General Montgomery wrote to you, with his own hand, how he +drove back the enemy at the head of his men, while the balls +were flying and the cannons roaring and flashing; and when his +horse was shot under him how he struggled out and cheered on +his men, on foot, and the bullets whizzed and the men fell all +around him, and he wasn't hurt and"—Here the boy stopped +abruptly and sprang impulsively forward, for his mother's cheek +had suddenly grown pale.</p> + +<p>"True grit!" remarked Abram to Basha, in an undertone, +as she paused in her walk to and fro by the spinning-wheel to +join a broken thread. "But there never was a coward yet, man +or woman, 'mong the Heaths, an' I've known 'em off an' on these +seventy year. Now there was ole Gineral Heath," he continued, +holding up the axe helve and viewing it critically with one eye +shut, "he was a marster hand for fightin'. Fit the Injuns 's +though he liked it. That gun up there was his'n."</p> + +<p>"Tell us about the 'sassy one,'" said Arthur, turning at the +word gun.</p> + +<p>"Youngster, 'f I've told yer that story once, I've told yer +fifty times," said Abram.</p> + +<p>"Tell it again," said the boy eagerly. "And take down the +gun, too."</p> + +<p>Abram got up as briskly as his seventy years and his rheumatism +would permit, and took down the gun from above the +mantel-piece. It was a very large one.</p> + +<p>"Not quite so tall as the old Gineral himself," said Abram, +"but a purty near to it. This gun is 'bout seven feet, an' yer +gran'ther was seven feet two—a powerful built man. Wall, the +Injuns had been mighty obstreperous 'long 'bout that time, burnin' +the Widder Brown's house and her an' her baby a-hidin' in a +holler tree near by, an' carryin' off critters an' bosses, an' that +day yer gran'ther was after 'em with a posse o' men, an' what +did that pesky Injun do but git up on a rock a quarter o' a mile +off an' jestickerlate in an outrigerous manner, like a sarcy boy, +an' yer grand'ther, he took aim and fired, an' that impident Injun +jest tumbel over with a yell; his last, mind ye, and good enough +for him!"</p> + +<p>"I like to hear about old gran'ther," said Arthur.</p> + +<p>As Abram was restoring the gun to its place upon the hooks, +a sound was heard at the side door—a sound as of a heavy body +falling against it, which startled them all. The dog Cæsar rose, +and going to the door which opened into the side entry, sniffed +along the crack above the threshold. Apparently satisfied, he +barked softly, and rising on his hind legs lifted the latch and +sprang into the entry. Abram followed with Basha. As he lifted +the latch of the outer door—the string had been drawn in early, +as was the custom in those troublous time—and swung it back, +the light from the fire fell upon the figure of a man lying across +the doorstone.</p> + +<p>"Sakes alive!" exclaimed Abram, drawing back. But at a +word from the mistress, they lifted the man and brought him in +and laid him down on the braided woollen mat before the fire. +Then for a moment there was silence, for he wore the dress of a +British soldier, and his right arm was bandaged. He had +fainted from loss of blood, apparently—perhaps from hunger. +Basha loosened his coat at the throat, and tried to force a drop +or two of "spirits" into his mouth, while Mrs. Heath rubbed his +hands.</p> + +<p>"He ain't dead," said Basha, in a grim tone, "and mind you, +we'll see trouble from this." Basha was an arrant rebel, and +hated the very sight of a red coat. "What are you doing here," +she continued, addressing him, "killin' honest folks, when you'd +better 've staid cross seas in yer own country?"</p> + +<p>"Basha!" said Mrs. Heath reprovingly, "he is helpless."</p> + +<p>But Basha as she unwound the tight bandage from the shattered +arm, kept muttering to herself like a rising tempest, until +at length the man having come quite to himself, detected her +feeling, and with great effort said, "I am <i>not</i> a British soldier."</p> + +<p>"Then what to goodness have you got on their uniform +for?" queried Basha.</p> + +<p>Little by little the pitiful story was told. He was an American +soldier who had been doing duty as a spy in the British +camp. Up to the very last day of his stay he had not been suspected; +but trying to get away he was suspected, challenged, and +fired at. The shot passed through his arm. He was certain his +pursuers had followed him till night, and they would be likely +to continue the search the next day, and he begged Mrs. Heath +to secrete him for a day or two, if possible.</p> + +<p>"I wouldn't mind being shot, marm," he said, "but you +know they'll hang me if they get me. Of course I risked it when +I went into their camp, but it's none the pleasanter for all that."</p> + +<p>Now in the old Heath house there was a secret chamber, +built in the side of the chimney. Most of those old colonial +houses had enormous chimneys, that took up, sometimes, a quarter +of the ground occupied by the house, so it was not a difficult +thing to enclose a small space with slight danger of its existence +being detected. This chimney chamber in the Heath house was +little more than a closet eight feet by four. It was entered from +the north chamber, Abram's room, through a narrow sliding +panel that looked exactly like the rest of the wall, which was of +cedar boards. An inch-wide shaft running up the side of the +chimney ventilated the closet, and it was lighted by a window +consisting of three small panes of glass carefully concealed under +the projecting roof. In a sunny day one could see to read +there easily.</p> + +<p>A small cot-bed was now carried into this room, and up +there, after his wound had been dressed by Basha, who, like +many old-time women, was skilful in dressing wounds and +learned in the properties of herbs and roots, and he had been fed +and bathed, the soldier was taken; and a very grateful man he +was as he settled himself upon the comfortable bed and looked +up with a smiling "thank you," into Basha's face, which was no +longer grim and forbidding.</p> + +<p>All this time no special notice had been taken of Dorothy +and Arthur. They had followed about to watch the bathing, +feeding and tending, and when Mrs. Heath turned to leave the +secret chamber, she found them behind her, staring in with very +wide-open eyes indeed; for, if you can believe it, they never +before had even heard of, much less seen, this lovely little secret +chamber. It was never deemed wise in colonial families to talk +about these hiding-places, which sometimes served so good a +purpose, and I doubt if many adults in the town of Hartland +knew of this secret chamber in the Heath house.</p> + +<p>The panel was closed, and Abram was left to care for the +wounded soldier through the night. It was nine o'clock, the +colonial hour for going to bed, and long past the children's hour, +and Dotty and Arthur in their prayers by their mother's knee, +put up a petition for the safety of the stranger.</p> + +<p>"<i>Would</i> they hang him if they could get him, mamma?" +asked Arty.</p> + +<p>"Certainly," she replied. "It is one of the rules of warfare. +A spy is always hung."</p> + +<p>In the morning, from nine to eleven, Mrs. Heath always +devoted to the children's lessons. Arthur, who was eleven, was +a good Latin scholar. He was reading <i>Cæsar's Commentaries</i>, +and he liked it—that is, he liked the story part. He found some +of it pretty tough reading, and I need not tell you boys who have +read Cæsar, what parts those were. They had English readings +from the <i>Spectator</i>, and from Bishop Leighton's works, books +which you know but little about. Dotty had a daily lesson in +botany, and very pleasant hours those school hours were.</p> + +<p>After dinner, at twelve, they had the afternoon for play. +That afternoon, the day after the soldier came, they went berrying. +They did this almost every day during berry time, so as to +have what they liked better than anything for supper—berries +and milk. Occasionally they had huckleberry "slap-jacks," also +a favorite dish, for breakfast; not often, however, as flour was +scarce.</p> + +<p>They went for berries down the road known as South Lane, +a lonely place, but where berries grew plentifully. Their mother +had cautioned them not to talk about the occurrence of the night +before, as some one might overhear, and so, though they talked +about their play and their studies, about papa and his soldiers, +they said nothing about <i>the</i> soldier.</p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width:100%;"><a href="images/149.png"><img width="100%" src="images/149.png" alt="'Tell Me, My Little Man,' Said He, 'Where You Saw the British Uniform.'" /></a><span class="sc">"Tell Me, My Little Man," Said He, "Where You Saw the British Uniform."</span></div> + +<p>They had nearly filled their baskets, when a growl from +Cæsar startled them, and turning, they saw two horsemen who +had stopped near by, one of whom was just springing from his +horse. They were in British uniform, and the children at once +were sure what they wanted.</p> + +<p>"O Arty, Arty!" whispered Dorothy. "They've come, and +we mustn't tell."</p> + +<p>The man advanced with a smile meant to be pleasant, but +which was in reality so sinister that the children shrank with a +sensation of fear.</p> + +<p>"How are you, my little man? Picking berries, eh? And +where do you live?" he asked.</p> + +<p>"With mamma," answered Arthur promptly.</p> + +<p>"And who is mamma? What is her name?"</p> + +<p>"Mrs. Heath," said Arty.</p> + +<p>"And don't you live with papa too? Where is papa?" the +man asked.</p> + +<p>Arthur hesitated an instant, and then out it came, and +proudly too. "In the Continental army, sir."</p> + +<p>"Ho! ho! and so we are a little rebel, are we?" laughed the +man. "And who am I? Do you know?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, sir; a British soldier."</p> + +<p>"How do you know that?"</p> + +<p>"Because you wear their uniform, sir?"</p> + +<p>"You cannot have seen many British soldiers here," said the +man. "Did you ever see the British uniform before?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, sir," replied Arty.</p> + +<p>"And where did you see it?" he asked, glancing sharply at +Arthur and then at Dorothy. Upon the face of the latter was a +look of dismay, for she had foreseen the drift of the man's questions +and the trap into which Arty had fallen. He, too, saw it, +now he was in. The only British uniform he had ever seen was +that worn by the American spy. For a brief moment he was +tempted to tell a lie. Then he said firmly, "I cannot tell you, +sir."</p> + +<p>"Cannot! Does that mean will not?" said the man threateningly. +Then he put his hand into his pocket and took out a +bright gold sovereign, which he held before Arthur.</p> + +<p>"Come, now, my little man, tell me where you saw the British +soldier's uniform, and you shall have this gold piece."</p> + +<p>But all the noble impulses of the boy's nature, inherited and +strengthened by his mother's teachings, revolted at this attempt +to bribe him. His eyes flashed. He looked the man full in the +face. "I will not!" said he.</p> + +<p>"Come, come!" cried out the man on horseback. "Don't +palter any longer with the little rebel. We'll find a way to make +him tell. Up with him!"</p> + +<p>In an instant the man had swung Arthur into his saddle, +and leaping up behind him, struck spurs to his horse and dashed +away. Cæsar, who had been sniffing about, suspicious, but uncertain, +attempted to leap upon the horseman in the rear, but he, +drawing his pistol from his saddle, fired, and Cæsar dropped +helpless.</p> + +<p>The horsemen quickly vanished, and for a moment Dorothy +stood pale and speechless. Then she knelt down by Cæsar, examined +his wound—he was shot in the leg—and bound it up +with her handkerchief, just as she saw Basha do the night before, +and then putting her arms around his neck she kissed him. "Be +patient, dear old Cæsar, and Abram shall come for you!"</p> + +<p>Covered with dust, her frock stained with Cæsar's blood, a +pitiful sight indeed was Dorothy as she burst into the kitchen +where Basha was preparing supper.</p> + +<p>"O mamma, they've carried off Arty and shot Cæsar, those +dreadful, dreadful British!"</p> + +<p>Between her sobs she told the whole fearful story to the +two women—fearful, I say, for Mrs. Heath knew too well the +reputed character of the British soldiery, not to fear the worst +if her boy should persist in refusing to tell where he had seen the +British soldier's uniform. But even in her distress she was conscious +of a proud faith that he would not betray his trust.</p> + +<p>As to Basha, who shall describe her horror and indignation? +"The wretches! ain't they content to murder our men and burn +our houses, that they must take our innercent little boys?" and +she struck the spit into the chicken she was preparing for supper +vindictively, as though thus she would like to treat the whole +British army. "The dear little cretur! what'll he do to-night +without his mamma, and him never away from her a night in +his blessed life. 'Pears to me the Lord's forgot the Colonies. O +dearie, dearie me!" utterly overcome she dropped into a chair, +and throwing her homespun check apron over her head, she gave +way to such a fit of weeping as astonished and perplexed Abram, +one of whose principal articles of faith it was that Basha couldn't +shed a tear, even if she tried, "more'n if she's made o' cast iron."</p> + +<p>It indeed looked hopeless. Who was to follow after these +men and rescue Arthur? There was hardly any one left in town +but old men, women and children.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Heath thought of this as she soothed Dorothy, coaxed +her to eat a little supper, and then sat by her side until she fell +asleep. She sat by the fire while the embers died out, or walked +up and down the long, lonely kitchen, wrestling, like Jacob, in +prayer, for her boy, until long after midnight.</p> + +<p>And now let us follow Arthur's fortunes. The men galloped +hard and long over hills, through valleys and woods, so +far away it seemed to the little fellow he could never possibly +see mamma or Dorothy again. At last they drew up at a large +white house, evidently the headquarters of the officers, and Arthur +was put at once into a dark closet and there left. He was +tired and dreadfully hungry, so hungry that he could think of +hardly anything else. He heard the rattling of china and glasses, +and knew they were at supper. By and by a servant came and +took him into the supper room. His eyes were so dazzled at +first by the change from the dark closet to the well-lighted room, +that he could scarcely see. But when the daze cleared he found +himself standing near the head of the table, where sat a stout +man with a red face, a fierce mustache, and an evil pair of eyes.</p> + +<p>He looked at Arthur a moment. Then he poured out a +glass of wine and pushed it towards him: "Drink!"</p> + +<p>But Arthur did not touch the glass.</p> + +<p>"Drink, I say," he repeated impatiently. "Do you hear?"</p> + +<p>"I have promised mamma never to drink wine," was the +low response.</p> + +<p>It seemed to poor Arthur as though everything had combined +against him. It was bad enough to have to say no to the +question about the uniform, and now here was something else +that would make the men still more angry with him. But the +officer did not push his command; he simply thrust the glass one +side and said, "Now, my boy, we're going to get that American +spy and hang him. You know where he is and you've got to tell +us, or it will be the worse for you. Do you want to see your +mother again?"</p> + +<p>Arthur did not answer. He could not have answered just +then. A big bunch came into his throat. Cry? Not before these +men. So he kept silence.</p> + +<p>"Obstinate little pig! speak!" thundered the officer, bringing +his great brawny fist down upon the table with a blow that +set the glasses dancing. "Will you tell me where that spy is?"</p> + +<p>"No, sir," came in very low, but very firm tones. I will +not tell you the dreadful words of that officer, as he turned to his +servant with the command, "Put him down cellar, and we'll see +to him in the morning. They're all alike, men, women and children. +Rebellion in the very blood. The only way to finish it is +to spill it without mercy."</p> + +<p>Now there was one thing that Arthur, brave as he was, +feared, and that was—rats! Left on a heap of dry straw, he +began to wonder if there were rats there. Presently he was sure +he heard something move, but he was quickly reassured by the +touch of soft, warm fur on his hand, and the sound of a melodious +"pur-r." The friendly kitty, glad of a companion, curled +herself by his side. What comfort she brought to the lonely little +fellow! He lay down beside her, and saying his <i>Our Father</i>, +and <i>Now I Lay Me</i>, was soon in a profound sleep, the purring +little kitty nestling close.</p> + +<p>The sounds of revelry in the rooms above did not disturb +him. The boisterous songs and laughter, the stamping of many +feet, continued far into the night. At last they ceased; and when +everything had been for a long time silent, the door leading to +the cellar was softly opened and a lady came down the stairway. +I have often wished that I might paint her as she looked coming +down those stairs. Arthur was afterwards my great-grandfather, +you know, and he told me this story when I was a young +girl in my teens. He told me how lovely this lady was.</p> + +<p>Her gown was of some rich stuff that shimmered in the light +of the candle she carried, and rustled musically as she walked. +There was a flash of jewels at her throat and on her hands. She +had wrapped a crimson mantle about her head and shoulders. +Her eyes were like stars on a summer's night, sparkling with a +veiled radiance, and as she stood and looked down upon the +sleeping boy, a smile, sweet, but full of a profound sadness, +played upon her lips. Then a determined look came into her +bright eyes.</p> + +<p>He stirred in his sleep, laughed out, said "mamma," and +then opened his eyes. She stooped and touched his lips with +her finger. "Hush! Speak only in a whisper. Eat this, and +then I will take you to your mother."</p> + +<p>After he had eaten, she wrapped a cloak about him, and +together they stole up and out past the sleeping, drunken sentinel, +to the stables. She lead out a white horse, her own horse, +Arthur was sure, for the creature caressed her with his head, and +as she saddled him she talked to him in low tones, sweet, musical +words of some foreign tongue. The handsome horse seemed to +understand the necessity of silence, for he did not even whinny +to the touch of his mistress' hand, and trod daintily and noiselessly +as she led him to the mounting block, his small ears pricking +forward and backward, as though knowing the need of +watchful listening.</p> + +<p>Leaping to the saddle and stooping, she lifted Arthur in +front of her, and with a word they were off. A slow walk at +first, and then a rapid canter. Arthur never forgot that long +night ride with the beautiful lady on the white horse, over the +country flooded with the brilliancy of the full moon. Once or +twice she asked him if he was cold, as she drew the cloak more +closely about him, and sometimes she would murmur softly to +herself words in that silvery, foreign tongue. As they drew near +Hartland, she asked him to point out his father's house, and +when they were quite near, only a little distance off, she stopped +the horse.</p> + +<p>"I leave you here, you brave, darling boy," she said. "Kiss +me once, and then jump down. And don't forget me."</p> + +<p>Arthur threw his arms around her neck and kissed her, first +on one cheek and then on the other, and looking up into the +beautiful face with its starry eyes, said:</p> + +<p>"I will never, never forget you, for you are the loveliest +lady I ever saw—except mamma."</p> + +<p>She laughed a pleased laugh, like a child, then took a ring +from her hand and put it on one of Arthur's fingers. Her hand +was so slender it fitted his chubby little hand very well.</p> + +<p>"Keep this," she said, "and by and by give it to some lady +good and true, like mamma."</p> + +<p>"Will you be punished?" he said, keeping her hand. She +laughed again, with a proud, daring toss of her dainty head, +and rode away.</p> + +<p>Arthur watched her out of sight, and then turned towards +home. Mrs. Heath was still keeping her lonely watch, when +the latch of the outer door was softly lifted—nobody had the +heart to take in the string with Arty outside—the inner door +swung noiselessly back, and the blithe voice said, "Mamma! +mamma! here I am, and I didn't tell."</p> + +<p>All that day, and the next, and the next, the Heath household +were in momentary expectation of the coming of the red +coats to search for the spy. Dorothy and Arthur, and sometimes +Abram, did picket duty to give seasonable warning of their approach. +But they never came. In a few days news was brought +that the British forces, on the very morning after Arthur's return, +had made a rapid retreat before an advance of the Federal +troops, and never again was a red coat seen in Hartland. The +spy got well in great peace and comfort under Basha's nursing, +and went back again to do service in the Continental army, and +Dotty used to say, "You did learn, didn't you, Arty, how a person, +even a little boy, can be a hero without fighting, just as +mamma said?"</p> + + + + +<div class="figcenter" style="width:100%;"><a href="images/157.png"><img width="100%" src="images/157.png" alt="Teddy the Teazer, A Moral Story with a Velocipede Attachment, by M.E.B." /></a></div> + +<h2>Teddy the Teazer</h2> + +<h4>A Moral Story with a Velocipede Attachment</h4> + + +<div class="poem"> <div class="stanza"> +<p>He wanted a velocipede,</p> +<p class="i2">And shook his saucy head;</p> +<p>He thought of it in daytime,</p> +<p class="i2">He dreamed of it in bed,</p> +<p>He begged for it at morning,</p> +<p class="i2">He cried for it at noon,</p> +<p>And even in the evening</p> +<p class="i2">He sang the same old tune.</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>He wanted a velocipede!</p> +<p class="i2">It was no use to say</p> +<p>He was too small to manage it,</p> +<p class="i2">Or it might run away,</p> +<p>Or crack his little occiput,</p> +<p class="i2">Or break his little leg—</p> +<p>It made no bit of difference,</p> +<p class="i2">He'd beg, and beg, and beg.</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>He wanted a velocipede,</p> +<p class="i2">A big one with a gong</p> +<p>To startle all the people,</p> +<p class="i2">As they saw him speed along;</p> +<p>A big one, with a cushion,</p> +<p class="i2">And painted red and black,</p> +<p>To make the others jealous</p> +<p class="i2">And clear them off the track.</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>He wanted a velocipede,</p> +<p class="i2">The largest ever built,</p> +<p>Though he was only five years old</p> +<p class="i2">And wore a little kilt,</p> +<p>And hair in curls a-waving,</p> +<p class="i2">And sashes by his side,</p> +<p>And collars wide as cart-wheels,</p> +<p class="i2">Which hurt his manly pride!</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>He wanted a velocipede</p> +<p class="i2">With springs of burnished steel;</p> +<p>He knew the way to work it—</p> +<p class="i2">The treadle for the wheel,</p> +<p>The brake to turn and twist it,</p> +<p class="i2">The crank to make it stop,</p> +<p>My! hadn't he been riding</p> +<p class="i2">For days, with Jimmy Top?</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>He wanted a velocipede!</p> +<p class="i2">Why, he was just as tall</p> +<p>As six-year-old Tom Tucker,</p> +<p class="i2">Who wasn't very small!</p> +<p>And feel his muscle, will you?</p> +<p class="i2">And tell him, if you dare,</p> +<p>That he's the sort of fellow</p> +<p class="i2">To get a fall, or scare?</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>They got him a velocipede;</p> +<p class="i2">I really do not know</p> +<p>How they could ever do it,</p> +<p class="i2">But then, he teased them so,</p> +<p>And so abused their patience,</p> +<p class="i2">And dulled their nerves of right,</p> +<p>That they just lost their senses</p> +<p class="i2">And brought it home one night.</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>They bought him a velocipede—</p> +<p class="i2">O woe the day and hour!</p> +<p>When proudly seated on it,</p> +<p class="i2">In pomp of pride and power,</p> +<p>His foot upon the treadle,</p> +<p class="i2">With motion staid and slow</p> +<p>He turned upon his axle,</p> +<p class="i2">And made the big thing go.</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>Alas, for the velocipede!</p> +<p class="i2">The way ran down a hill—</p> +<p>The whirling wheels went faster,</p> +<p class="i2">And fast, and faster still,</p> +<p>Until, like flash of rocket,</p> +<p class="i2">Or shooting star at night,</p> +<p>They crossed the dim horizon</p> +<p class="i2">And rattled out of sight.</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>So vanished the velocipede,</p> +<p class="i2">With him who rode thereon;</p> +<p>And no one, since that dreadful day,</p> +<p class="i2">Has found out where 'tis gone!</p> +<p>Except a floating rumor</p> +<p class="i2">Which some stray wind doth blow.</p> +<p>When the long nights of winter</p> +<p class="i2">Are white with frost and snow,</p> +<p>Of a small fleeting shadow,</p> +<p class="i2">That seems to run astray</p> +<p>Upon a pair of flying wheels,</p> +<p class="i2">Along the Milky Way.</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>And this they think is Teddy!</p> +<p class="i2">Doomed for all time to speed—</p> +<p>A wretched little phantom boy,</p> +<p class="i2">On a velocipede!</p> + </div> </div> + +<p class="author">M.E.B.</p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width:100%;"><a href="images/159.png"><img width="100%" src="images/159.png" alt="" /></a></div> + + + + +<h2>JOJO'S PETITION.</h2> + + +<div class="poem"> <div class="stanza"> +<p><img width="10%" src="images/ltr-g.png" alt="[Illuminated letter] G" />olden-haired Jojo, at his mother's knee,</p> +<p class="i2">Nestles each night his baby prayer to say:</p> +<p>"Bless papa and mamma! make Ned and me</p> +<p class="i2">Good little boys!" he has been taught to pray.</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>Grandmamma was very sick one weary day,</p> +<p class="i2">And Jojo shared with us our anxious care;</p> +<p>So the dear child, when he knelt down to pray,</p> +<p class="i2">Seemed to think Grandma must be in his prayer.</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>And sure the dear Lord did not fail to hear</p> +<p class="i2">Sharer alike of sorrows and of joys—</p> +<p>When he said, "Bless papa and my mamma dear,</p> +<p class="i2">And make me an' Gran'ma an' Neddy good boys!"</p> + </div> </div> + +<p class="author">RUTH HALL.</p> + +<p> </p> +<p> </p> +<hr class="full" /> +<p>***END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK OUR BOYS***</p> +<p>******* This file should be named 16171-h.txt or 16171-h.zip *******</p> +<p>This and all associated files of various formats will be found in:<br /> +<a href="https://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/1/6/1/7/16171">https://www.gutenberg.org/1/6/1/7/16171</a></p> +<p>Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed.</p> + +<p>Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + + + + +Title: Our Boys + Entertaining Stories by Popular Authors + + +Author: Various + + + +Release Date: July 1, 2005 [eBook #16171] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-646-US (US-ASCII) + + +***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK OUR BOYS*** + + +E-text prepared by Marilynda Fraser-Cunliffe, William Flis, and the +Project Gutenberg Online Distributed Proofreading Team +(https://www.pgdp.net) + + + +Note: Project Gutenberg also has an HTML version of this + file which includes the original illustrations. + See 16171-h.htm or 16171-h.zip: + (https://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/1/6/1/7/16171/16171-h/16171-h.htm) + or + (https://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/1/6/1/7/16171/16171-h.zip) + + + + + +OUR BOYS + +Entertaining Stories by Popular Authors + +by + +GEORGE CARY EGGLESTON, MARY E. WILKINS, FRANCES A. HUMPHREY, MARGARET +EYTINGE, MRS. A. D. T. WHITNEY, MARY D. BRINE, ETC., ETC., ETC. + +Profusely Illustrated + +The Saalfield Publishing Company, Akron, Ohio + +1904 + + + + + + + +[Illustration] + + + +[Illustration] + + + +[Illustration] + + + + +THE CAT-TAIL ARROW + +BY CLARA DOTY BATES + + + Little Sammie made a bow, + Well indeed he loved to whittle, + Shaped it like the half of O-- + How he could I scarcely know, + For his fingers were so little. + As he whittled came a sigh: + "If I only had an arrow; + Something light enough to fly + To the tree-tops or the sky! + Then I'd have such fun tomorrow." + + Then he thought of all the slim + Things that grow--the hazel bushes, + Willow branches, poplars trim-- + And yet nothing suited him + Till he chanced to think of rushes. + He knew well a quiet pool + Where he always paused a minute + On his way to district school, + Just to see the waters cool + And his own bright face within it. + + There the cat-tails thickly grew, + With their heads so brown and furry; + They were straight and slender too, + Plenty strong enough he knew, + And he sought them in a hurry. + Such an arrow as he wrought-- + Almost passed a boy's believing. + When he drew the bow-string taut, + Out of sight and quick as thought + Up it went, the blue air cleaving. + + Who was Sammie, would you know? + It was grandpa--he was little + Nearly eighty years ago; + But 'tis no doubt as fine a bow + As the best he still could whittle. + + + + +[Illustration: A YOUNG SALT] + +HE COULDN'T SAY NO. + + + [[I]]t was sad and it was strange! + He just was full of knowledge, + His studies swept the whole broad range + Of High School and of College; + He read in Greek and Latin too, + Loud Sanscrit he could utter, + But one small thing he couldn't do + That comes as pat to me and you + As eating bread and butter: + He couldn't say "No!" He couldn't say "No!" + I'm sorry to say it was really so! + He'd diddle, and dawdle, and stutter, but oh! + When it came to the point he could never say "No!" + + Geometry he knew by rote, + Like any Harvard Proctor; + He'd sing a fugue out, note by note; + Knew Physics like a Doctor; + He spoke in German and in French; + Knew each Botanic table; + But one small word that you'll agree + Comes pat enough to you and me, + To speak he was not able: + For he couldn't say "No!" He couldn't say "No!" + 'Tis dreadful, of course, but 'twas really so. + He'd diddle, and dawdle, and stutter, but oh! + When it came to the point he could never say "No!" + + And he could fence, and swim, and float, + And use the gloves with ease too, + Could play base ball, and row a boat, + And hang on a trapeze too; + His temper was beyond rebuke, + And nothing made him lose it; + His strength was something quite superb, + But what's the use of having nerve + If one can never use it? + He couldn't say "No!" He couldn't say "No!" + If one asked him to come, if one asked him to go, + He'd diddle, and dawdle, and stutter, but oh! + When it came to the point he could never say "No!" + + When he was but a little lad, + In life's small ways progressing, + He fell into this habit bad + Of always acquiescing; + 'Twas such an amiable trait, + To friend as well as stranger, + That half unconsciously at last + The custom held him hard and fast + Before he knew the danger, + And he couldn't say "No!" He couldn't say "No!" + To his prospects you see 'twas a terrible blow. + He'd diddle, and dawdle, and stutter, but oh! + When it came to the point he could never say "No!" + + And so for all his weary days + The best of chances failed him; + He lived in strange and troublous ways + And never knew what ailed him; + He'd go to skate when ice was thin; + He'd join in deeds unlawful, + He'd lend his name to worthless notes, + He'd speculate in stocks and oats; + 'Twas positively awful, + For he couldn't say "No!" He couldn't say "No!" + He would veer like a weather-cock turning so slow; + He'd diddle, and dawdle, and stutter, but oh! + When it came to the point he could never say "No!" + + Then boys and girls who hear my song, + Pray heed its theme alarming: + Be good, be wise, be kind, be strong-- + These traits are always charming, + But all your learning, all your skill + With well-trained brain and muscle, + Might just as well be left alone, + If you can't cultivate backbone + To help you in life's tussle, + And learn to say "No!" Yes, learn to say "No!" + Or you'll fall from the heights to the rapids below! + You may waver, and falter, and tremble, but oh! + When your conscience requires it, be sure and shout "No!" + +M.E.B. + + + + +[Illustration: Going into the Chapel.] + +THE CHRISTMAS MONKS. + + +All children have wondered unceasingly from their very first Christmas +up to their very last Christmas, where the Christmas presents come +from. It is very easy to say that Santa Claus brought them. All well +regulated people know that, of course; about the reindeer, and the +sledge, and the pack crammed with toys, the chimney, and all the rest +of it--that is all true, of course, and everybody knows about it; but +that is not the question which puzzles. What children want to know is, +where do these Christmas presents come from in the first place? Where +does Santa Claus get them? Well, the answer to that is, _In the garden +of the Christmas Monks_. This has not been known until very lately; +that is, it has not been known till very lately except in the +immediate vicinity of the Christmas Monks. There, of course, it has +been known for ages. It is rather an out-of-the-way place; and that +accounts for our never hearing of it before. + +The Convent of the Christmas Monks is a most charmingly picturesque +pile of old buildings; there are towers and turrets, and peaked roofs +and arches, and everything which could possibly be thought of the +architectural line, to make a convent picturesque. It is built +of graystone; but it is only once in a while that you can see the +graystone, for the walls are almost completely covered with mistletoe +and ivy and evergreen. There are the most delicious little arched +windows with diamond panes peeping out from the mistletoe and +evergreen, and always at all times of the year, a little Christmas +wreath of ivy and holly-berries is suspended in the centre of every +window. Over all the doors, which are likewise arched, are Christmas +garlands, and over the main entrance _Merry Christmas_ in evergreen +letters. + +The Christmas Monks are a jolly brethren; the robes of their order +are white, gilded with green garlands, and they never are seen out at +any time of the year without Christmas wreaths on their heads. Every +morning they file in a long procession into the chapel to sing a +Christmas carol; and every evening they ring a Christmas chime on the +convent bells. They eat roast turkey and plum pudding and mince-pie +for dinner all the year round; and always carry what is left in +baskets trimmed with evergreen to the poor people. There are always +wax candles lighted and set in every window of the convent at +nightfall; and when the people in the country about get uncommonly +blue and down-hearted, they always go for a cure to look at the +Convent of the Christmas Monks after the candles are lighted and the +chimes are ringing. It brings to mind things which never fail to cheer +them. + +But the principal thing about the Convent of the Christmas Monks is +the garden; for that is where the Christmas presents grow. This garden +extends over a large number of acres, and is divided into different +departments, just as we divide our flower and vegetable gardens; +one bed for onions, one for cabbages, and one for phlox, and one for +verbenas, etc. + +Every spring the Christmas Monks go out to sow the Christmas-present +seeds after they have ploughed the ground and made it all ready. + +There is one enormous bed devoted to rocking-horses. The rocking-horse +seed is curious enough; just little bits of rocking-horses so small +that they can only be seen through a very, very powerful microscope. +The Monks drop these at quite a distance from each other, so that they +will not interfere while growing; then they cover them up neatly with +earth, and put up a sign-post with "Rocking-horses" on it in evergreen +letters. Just so with the penny-trumpet seed, and the toy-furniture +seed, the skate-seed, the sled-seed, and all the others. + +Perhaps the prettiest, and most interesting part of the garden, is +that devoted to wax dolls. There are other beds for the commoner +dolls--for the rag dolls, and the china dolls, and the rubber dolls, +but of course wax dolls would look much handsomer growing. Wax dolls +have to be planted quite early in the season; for they need a good +start before the sun is very high. The seeds are the loveliest bits +of microscopic dolls imaginable. The Monks sow them pretty close +together, and they begin to come up by the middle of May. There is +first just a little glimmer of gold, or flaxen, or black, or brown, as +the case may be, above the soil. Then the snowy foreheads appear, and +the blue eyes, and the black eyes, and, later on, all those enchanting +little heads are out of the ground, and are nodding and winking and +smiling to each other the whole extent of the field; with their pinky +cheeks and sparkling eyes and curly hair there is nothing so pretty as +these little wax doll heads peeping out of the earth. Gradually, more +and more of them come to light, and finally by Christmas they are all +ready to gather. There they stand, swaying to and fro, and dancing +lightly on their slender feet which are connected with the ground, +each by a tiny green stem; their dresses of pink, or blue, or +white--for their dresses grow with them--flutter in the air. Just +about the prettiest sight in the world is the bed of wax dolls in the +garden of the Christmas Monks at Christmas time. Of course ever since +this convent and garden were established (and that was so long ago +that the wisest man can find no books about it) their glories have +attracted a vast deal of admiration and curiosity from the young +people in the surrounding country; but as the garden is enclosed on +all sides by an immensely thick and high hedge, which no boy could +climb, or peep over, they could only judge of the garden by the fruits +which were parceled out to them on Christmas-day. + +You can judge, then, of the sensation among the young folks, and older +ones, for that matter, when one evening there appeared hung upon a +conspicuous place in the garden-hedge, a broad strip of white cloth +trimmed with evergreen and printed with the following notice in +evergreen letters: + +"WANTED--By the Christmas Monks, two _good_ boys to assist in garden +work. Applicants will be examined by Fathers Anselmus and Ambrose, in +the convent refectory, on April 10th." + +This notice was hung out about five o'clock in the evening, some time +in the early part of February. By noon the street was so full of boys +staring at it with their mouths wide open, so as to see better, that +the king was obliged to send his bodyguard before him to clear the +way with brooms, when he wanted to pass on his way from his chamber of +state to his palace. + +There was not a boy in the country but looked upon this position as +the height of human felicity. To work all the year in that wonderful +garden, and see those wonderful things growing! and without doubt any +body who worked there could have all the toys he wanted, just as a boy +who works in a candy-shop always has all the candy he wants! + +But the great difficulty, of course, was about the degree of goodness +requisite to pass the examination. The boys in this country were no +worse than the boys in other countries, but there were not many of +them that would not have done a little differently if he had only +known beforehand of the advertisement of the Christmas Monks. However, +they made the most of the time remaining, and were so good all over +the kingdom that a very millennium seemed dawning. The school teachers +used their ferrules for fire wood, and the king ordered all the birch +trees cut down and exported, as he thought there would be no more call +for them in his own realm. + +[Illustration: The boys read the notice.] + +When the time for the examination drew near, there were two boys whom +every one thought would obtain the situation, although some of the +other boys had lingering hopes for themselves; if only the Monks would +examine them on the last six weeks, they thought they might pass. +Still all the older people had decided in their minds that the Monks +would choose these two boys. One was the Prince, the king's oldest +son; and the other was a poor boy named Peter. The Prince was no +better than the other boys; indeed, to tell the truth, he was not so +good; in fact, was the biggest rogue in the whole country; but all +the lords and the ladies, and all the people who admired the lords and +ladies, said it was their solemn belief that the Prince was the best +boy in the whole kingdom; and they were prepared to give in their +testimony, one and all, to that effect to the Christmas Monks. + +Peter was really and truly such a good boy that there was no excuse +for saying he was not. His father and mother were poor people; and +Peter worked every minute out of school hours to help them along. +Then he had a sweet little crippled sister whom he was never tired of +caring for. Then, too, he contrived to find time to do lots of little +kindnesses for other people. He always studied his lessons faithfully, +and never ran away from school. Peter was such a good boy, and so +modest and unsuspicious that he was good, that everybody loved him. He +had not the least idea that he could get the place with the Christmas +Monks, but the Prince was sure of it. + +When the examination day came all the boys from far and near, with +their hair neatly brushed and parted, and dressed in their best +clothes, flocked into the convent. Many of their relatives and friends +went with them to witness the examination. + +The refectory of the convent, where they assembled, was a very large +hall with a delicious smell of roast turkey and plum pudding in it. +All the little boys sniffed, and their mouths watered. + +The two fathers who were to examine the boys were perched up in a +high pulpit so profusely trimmed with evergreen that it looked like a +bird's nest; they were remarkably pleasant-looking men, and their eyes +twinkled merrily under their Christmas wreaths. Father Anselmus was +a little the taller of the two, and Father Ambrose was a little the +broader; and that was about all the difference between them in looks. + +[Illustration: The Prince & Peter are examined by the Monks.] + +The little boys all stood up in a row, their friends stationed +themselves in good places, and the examination began. + +Then if one had been placed beside the entrance to the convent, he +would have seen one after another, a crestfallen little boy with his +arm lifted up and crooked, and his face hidden in it, come out and +walk forlornly away. He had failed to pass. + +The two fathers found out that this boy had robbed birds' nests, +and this one stolen apples. And one after another they walked +disconsolately away till there were only two boys left: the Prince and +Peter. + +"Now, your Highness," said Father Anselmus, who always took the lead +in the questions, "are you a good boy?" + +"O holy Father!" exclaimed all the people--there were a good many fine +folks from the court present. "He is such a good boy! such a wonderful +boy! We never knew him to do a wrong thing in his sweet life." + +"I don't suppose he ever robbed a bird's nest?" said Father Ambrose a +little doubtfully. + +"No, no!" chorused the people. + +"Nor tormented a kitten?" + +"No, no, no!" cried they all. + +At last everybody being so confident that here could be no reasonable +fault found with the Prince, he was pronounced competent to enter upon +the Monks' service. Peter they knew a great deal about before--indeed, +a glance at his face was enough to satisfy any one of his goodness; +for he did look more like one of the boy angels in the altar-piece +than anything else. So after a few questions, they accepted him also; +and the people went home and left the two boys with the Christmas +Monks. + +The next morning Peter was obliged to lay aside his homespun coat, +and the Prince his velvet tunic, and both were dressed in some little +white robes with evergreen girdles like the Monks. Then the Prince +was set to sowing Noah's ark seed, and Peter picture-book seed. Up +and down they went scattering the seed. Peter sang a little psalm +to himself, but the Prince grumbled because they had not given him +gold-watch or gem seed to plant instead of the toy which he had +outgrown long ago. By noon Peter had planted all his picture-books, +and fastened up the card to mark them on the pole; but the Prince had +dawdled so his work was not half done. + +"We are going to have a trial with this boy," said the Monks to each +other; "we shall have to set him a penance at once, or we cannot +manage him at all." + +So the Prince had to go without his dinner, and kneel on dried peas in +the chapel all the afternoon. The next day he finished his Noah's Arks +meekly; but the next day he rebelled again and had to go the whole +length of the field where they planted jewsharps, on his knees. And so +it was about every other day for the whole year. + +One of the brothers had to be set apart in a meditating cell to invent +new penances; for they had used up all on their list before the Prince +had been with them three months. + +The Prince became dreadfully tired of his convent life, and if +he could have brought it about would have run away. Peter, on the +contrary, had never been so happy in his life. He worked like a bee, +and the pleasure he took in seeing the lovely things he had planted +come up, was unbounded, and the Christmas carols and chimes delighted +his soul. Then, too, he had never fared so well in his life. He could +never remember the time before when he had been a whole week without +being hungry. He sent his wages every month to his parents; and he +never ceased to wonder at the discontent of the Prince. + +"They grow so slow," the Prince would say, wrinkling up his handsome +forehead. "I expected to have a bushelful of new toys every month; and +not one have I had yet. And these stingy old Monks say I can only have +my usual Christmas share anyway, nor can I pick them out myself. I +never saw such a stupid place to stay in my life. I want to have my +velvet tunic on and go home to the palace and ride on my white pony +with the silver tail, and hear them all tell me how charming I am." +Then the Prince would crook his arm and put his head on it and cry. + +Peter pitied him, and tried to comfort him, but it was not of much +use, for the Prince got angry because he was not discontented as well +as himself. + +Two weeks before Christmas everything in the garden was nearly ready +to be picked. Some few things needed a little more December sun, but +everything looked perfect. Some of the Jack-in-the-boxes would not +pop out quite quick enough, and some of the jumping-Jacks were hardly +as limber as they might be as yet; that was all. As it was so near +Christmas the Monks were engaged in their holy exercises in the chapel +for the greater part of the time, and only went over the garden once a +day to see if everything was all right. + +The Prince and Peter were obliged to be there all the time. There was +plenty of work for them to do; for once in a while something would +blow over, and then there were the penny-trumpets to keep in tune; and +that was a vast sight of work. + +One morning the Prince was at one end of the garden straightening up +some wooden soldiers which had toppled over, and Peter was in the wax +doll bed dusting the dolls. All of a sudden he heard a sweet little +voice: "O, Peter!" He thought at first one of the dolls was talking, +but they could not say anything but papa and mamma; and had the merest +apologies for voices anyway. "Here I am, Peter!" and there was a +little pull at his sleeve. There was his little sister. She was not +any taller than the dolls around her, and looked uncommonly like the +prettiest, pinkest-cheeked, yellowest-haired ones; so it was no wonder +that Peter did not see her at first. She stood there poising herself +on her crutches, poor little thing, and smiling lovingly up at Peter. + +"Oh, you darling!" cried Peter, catching her up in his arms. "How did +you get in here?" + +"I stole in behind one of the Monks," said she. "I saw him going up +the street past our house, and I ran out and kept behind him all the +way. When he opened the gate I whisked in too, and then I followed him +into the garden. I've been here with the dollies ever since." + +"Well," said poor Peter, "I don't see what I am going to do with you, +now you are here. I can't let you out again; and I don't know what the +Monks will say." + +"Oh, I know!" cried the little girl gayly. "I'll stay out here in +the garden. I can sleep in one of those beautiful dolls' cradles over +there; and you can bring me something to eat." + +[Illustration: The boys at work in the Convent Garden.] + +"But the Monks come out every morning to look over the garden, and +they'll be sure to find you," said her brother, anxiously. + +"No, I'll hide! O Peter, here is a place where there isn't any doll!" + +"Yes; that doll did not come up." + +"Well, I'll tell you what I'll do! I'll just stand here in this place +where the doll didn't come up, and nobody can tell the difference." + +"Well, I don't know but you can do that," said Peter, although he was +still ill at ease. He was so good a boy he was very much afraid of +doing wrong, and offending his kind friends the Monks; at the same +time he could not help being glad to see his dear little sister. + +He smuggled some food out to her, and she played merrily about him all +day; and at night he tucked her into one of the dolls' cradles with +lace pillows and quilt of rose-colored silk. + +The next morning when the Monks were going the rounds, the father who +inspected the wax doll bed was a bit nearsighted, and he never noticed +the difference between the dolls and Peter's little sister, who swung +herself on her crutches, and looked just as much like a wax doll as +she possibly could. So the two were delighted with the success of +their plan. + +They went on thus for a few days, and Peter could not help being happy +with his darling little sister, although at the same time he could not +help worrying for fear he was doing wrong. + +Something else happened now, which made him worry still more; +the Prince ran away. He had been watching for a long time for an +opportunity to possess himself of a certain long ladder made of +twisted evergreen ropes, which the Monks kept locked up in the +toolhouse. Lately, by some oversight, the toolhouse had been left +unlocked one day, and the Prince got the ladder. It was the latter +part of the afternoon, and the Christmas Monks were all in the chapel +practicing Christmas carols. The Prince found a very large hamper, +and picked as many Christmas presents for himself as he could stuff +into it; then he put the ladder against the high gate in front of +the convent, and climbed up, dragging the hamper after him. When he +reached the top of the gate, which was quite broad, he sat down to +rest for a moment before pulling the ladder up so as to drop it on the +other side. + +He gave his feet a little triumphant kick as he looked back at his +prison, and down slid the evergreen ladder! The Prince lost his +balance, and would inevitably have broken his neck if he had not clung +desperately to the hamper which hung over on the convent side of the +fence; and as it was just the same weight as the Prince, it kept him +suspended on the other. + +He screamed with all the force of his royal lungs; was heard by a +party of noblemen who were galloping up the street; was rescued, and +carried in state to the palace. But he was obliged to drop the hamper +of presents, for with it all the ingenuity of the noblemen could not +rescue him as speedily as it was necessary they should. + +When the good Monks discovered the escape of the Prince they were +greatly grieved, for they had tried their best to do well by him; and +poor Peter could with difficulty be comforted. He had been very fond +of the Prince, although the latter had done little except torment him +for the whole year; but Peter had a way of being fond of folks. + +A few days after the Prince ran away, and the day before the one on +which the Christmas presents were to be gathered, the nearsighted +father went out into the wax doll field again; but this time he had +his spectacles on, and could see just as well as any one, and even +a little better. Peter's little sister was swinging herself on her +crutches, in the place where the wax doll did not come up, tipping her +little face up, and smiling just like the dolls around her. + +"Why, what is this!" said the father. "_Hoc credam!_ I thought that +wax doll did not come up. Can my eyes deceive me? _non verum est!_ +There is a doll there--and what a doll! on crutches, and in poor, +homely gear!" + +Then the nearsighted father put out his hand toward Peter's little +sister. She jumped--she could not help it, and the holy father jumped +too; the Christmas wreath actually tumbled off his head. + +"It is a miracle!" exclaimed he when he could speak; "the little girl +is alive! _parra puella viva est._ I will pick her and take her to the +brethren, and we will pay her the honors she is entitled to." + +Then the good father put on his Christmas wreath, for he dare not +venture before his abbot without it, picked up Peter's little sister, +who was trembling in all her little bones, and carried her into the +chapel, where the Monks were just assembling to sing another carol. +He went right up to the Christmas abbot, who was seated in a splendid +chair, and looked like a king. + +"Most holy abbot," said the nearsighted father, holding out Peter's +little sister, "behold a miracle, _vide miraculum_! Thou wilt remember +that there was one wax doll planted which did not come up. Behold, in +her place I have found this doll on crutches, which is--alive!" + +"Let me see her!" said the abbot; and all the other Monks crowded +around, opening their mouths just like the little boys around the +notice, in order to see better. + +"_Verum est_," said the abbot. "It is verily a miracle." + +"Rather a lame miracle," said the brother who had charge of the funny +picture-books and the toy monkeys; they rather threw his mind off +its level of sobriety, and he was apt to make frivolous speeches +unbecoming a monk. + +The abbot gave him a reproving glance, and the brother, who was the +leach of the convent, came forward. "Let me look at the miracle, most +holy abbot," said he. He took up Peter's sister, and looked carefully +at the small, twisted ankle. "I think I can cure this with my herbs +and simples," said he. + +"But I don't know," said the abbot doubtfully. "I never heard of +curing a miracle." + +"If it is not lawful, my humble power will not suffice to cure it," +said the father who was the leach. + +"True," said the abbot; "take her, then, and exercise thy healing art +upon her, and we will go on with our Christmas devotions, for which we +should now feel all the more zeal." + +So the father took away Peter's little sister, who was still too +frightened to speak. + +The Christmas Monk was a wonderful doctor, for by Christmas eve +the little girl was completely cured of her lameness. This may seem +incredible, but it was owing in great part to the herbs and simples, +which are of a species that our doctors have no knowledge of; and also +to a wonderful lotion which has never been advertised on our fences. + +Peter of course heard the talk about the miracle, and knew at once +what it meant. He was almost heartbroken to think he was deceiving the +Monks so, but at the same time he did not dare to confess the truth +for fear they would put a penance upon his sister, and he could not +bear to think of her having to kneel upon dried peas. + +[Illustration: The Prince Runs Away.] + +He worked hard picking Christmas presents, and hid his unhappiness +as best he could. On Christmas eve he was called into the chapel. The +Christmas Monks were all assembled there. The walls were covered with +green garlands and boughs and sprays of holly berries, and branches +of wax lights Were gleaming brightly amongst them. The altar and the +picture of the Blessed Child behind it were so bright as to almost +dazzle one; and right up in the midst of it, in a lovely white dress, +all wreaths and jewels, in a little chair with a canopy woven of green +branches over it, sat Peter's little sister. + +And there were all the Christmas Monks in their white robes and +wreaths, going up in a long procession, with their hands full of the +very showiest Christmas presents to offer them to her! + +But when they reached her and held out the lovely presents--the +first was an enchanting wax doll, the biggest beauty in the whole +garden--instead of reaching out her hands for them, she just drew +back, and said in her little sweet, piping voice: "Please, I ain't a +millacle, I'm only Peter's little sister." + +"Peter?" said the abbot; "the Peter who works in our garden?" + +"Yes," said the little sister. + +Now here was a fine opportunity for a whole convent full of monks to +look foolish--filing up in procession with their hands full of gifts +to offer to a miracle, and finding there was no miracle, but only +Peter's little sister. + +But the abbot of the Christmas Monks had always maintained that there +were two ways of looking at all things; if any object was not what you +wanted it to be in one light, that there was another light in which it +would be sure to meet your views. + +So now he brought this philosophy to bear. + +"This little girl did not come up in the place of the wax doll, and +she is not a miracle in that light," said he; "but look at her in +another light and she is a miracle--do you not see?" + +They all looked at her, the darling little girl, the very meaning and +sweetness of all Christmas in her loving, trusting, innocent face. + +"Yes," said all the Christmas Monks, "she is a miracle." And they all +laid their beautiful Christmas presents down before her. + +Peter was so delighted he hardly knew himself; and, oh! the joy there +was when he led his little sister home on Christmas-day, and showed +all the wonderful presents. + +The Christmas Monks always retained Peter in their employ--in fact he +is in their employ to this day. And his parents, and his little +sister who was entirely cured of her lameness, have never wanted for +anything. + +As for the Prince, the courtiers were never tired of discussing and +admiring his wonderful knowledge of physics which led to his adjusting +the weight of the hamper of Christmas presents to his own so nicely +that he could not fall. The Prince liked the talk and the admiration +well enough, but he could not help, also, being a little glum; for he +got no Christmas presents that year. + +MARY E. WILKINS. + + + + +[Illustration] + +TEDDY AND THE ECHO. + + + Teddy is out upon the lake; + His oars a softened click-clack make; + On all that water bright and blue, + His boat is the only one in view; + So, when he hears another oar + Click-clack along the farthest shore, + "Heigh-ho," he cries, "out for a row! + Echo is out! heigh-ho--heigh-ho!" + "Heigh-ho, heigh-ho!" + Sounds from the distance, faint and low. + + Then Teddy whistles that he may hear + Her answering whistle, soft and clear; + Out of the greenwood, leafy, mute, + Pipes her mimicking, silver flute, + And, though her mellow measures are + Always behind him half a bar, + 'Tis sweet to hear her falter so; + And Ted calls back, "Bravo, bravo!" + "Bravo, bravo!" + Comes from the distance, faint and low. + + She laughs at trifles loud and long; + Splashes the water, sings a song; + Tells him everything she is told, + Saucy or tender, rough or bold; + One might think from the merry noise + That the quiet wood was full of boys, + Till Ted, grown tired, cries out, "Oh, no! + 'Tis dinner time and I must go!" + "Must go? must go?" + Sighs from the distance, sad and low. + + When Ted and his clatter are away, + Where does the little Echo stay? + Perched on a rock to watch for him? + Or keeping a lookout from some limb? + If he were to push his boat to land, + Would he find her footprint on the sand? + Or would she come to his blithe "hello," + Red as a rose, or white as snow? + Ah no, ah no! + Never can Teddy see Echo! + +MRS. CLARA DOTY BATES. + + + + +SONG OF THE CHRISTMAS STOCKINGS. + + + Six merry stockings in the firelight, + Hanging by the chimney snug and tight: + Jolly, jolly red, + That belongs to Ted; + Daintiest blue, + That belongs to Sue; + Old brown fellow + Hanging long, + That belongs to Joe, + Big and strong; + Little, wee, pink mite + Covers Baby's toes-- + Won't she pull it open + With funny little crows! + Sober, dark gray, + Quiet little mouse, + That belongs to Sybil + Of all the house; + One stocking left, + Whose should it be? + Why, that I'm sure + Must belong to me! + Well, so they hang, packed to the brim, + Swing, swing, swing, in the firelight dim. + +[Illustration] + + 'Twas the middle of the night. + Open flew my eyes; + I started up in bed, + And stared in surprise; + I rubbed my eyes, I rubbed my ears, + I saw the stockings swing, I heard the stockings sing; + Out in the firelight + Merry and bright, + Snug and tight, + Six were swinging, + Six were singing, + Like everything! + And the red, and the blue, and the brown, and the gray, + And the pink one, and mine, had it all their own way, + And no one could stop them--because, don't you see, + Nobody heard 'em--but just poor me! + + "All day we carry toes, + To-night we carry candy; + Christmas comes once a year + Very nice and handy. + Run, run, race all day, + Mother mends us after play, + We don't care, life is gay, + Sing and swing, away, away! + + "Boots and little tired shoes, + We kick 'em off in glee; + It's fun to hang up here + And Santa Claus to see. + Run, run, race all day, + Mother mends us after play, + We don't care, life is gay, + Sing and swing, away, away! + + "To-morrow down we come, + The sweet things tumble out, + Then carrying toes again + We'll have to trot about. + Run, run, race all day, + Mother'll mend us after play, + We don't care, we'll swing so gay + While we can--away, away!" + +MARGARET SIDNEY. + + + + +JOE LAMBERT'S FERRY. + + +It was a thoroughly disagreeable March morning. The wind blew in sharp +gusts from every quarter of the compass by turns. It seemed to take +especial delight in rushing suddenly around corners and taking away +the breath of anybody it could catch there coming from the opposite +direction. The dust, too, filled people's eyes and noses and mouths, +while the damp raw March air easily found its way through the best +clothing, and turned boys' skins into pimply goose-flesh. + +It was about as disagreeable a morning for going out as can be +imagined; and yet everybody in the little Western river town who could +get out went out and stayed out. + +Men and women, boys and girls, and even little children, ran to the +river-bank: and, once there, they stayed, with no thought, it seemed, +of going back to their homes or their work. + +The people of the town were wild with excitement, and everybody told +everybody else what had happened, although everybody knew all about +it already. Everybody, I mean, except Joe Lambert, and he had been so +busy ever since daylight, sawing wood in Squire Grisard's woodshed, +that he had neither seen nor heard anything at all. Joe was the +poorest person in the town. He was the only boy there who really had +no home and nobody to care for him. Three or four years before +this March morning, Joe had been left an orphan, and being utterly +destitute, he should have been sent to the poorhouse, or "bound out" +to some person as a sort of servant. But Joe Lambert had refused to go +to the poorhouse or to become a bound boy. He had declared his ability +to take care of himself, and by working hard at odd jobs, sawing +wood, rolling barrels on the wharf, picking apples or weeding onions +as opportunity offered, he had managed to support himself "after a +manner," as the village people said. That is to say, he generally got +enough to eat, and some clothes to wear. He slept in a warehouse shed, +the owner having given him leave to do so on condition that he would +act as a sort of watchman on the premises. + +Joe Lambert alone of all the villagers knew nothing of what had +happened; and of course Joe Lambert did not count for anything in the +estimation of people who had houses to live in. The only reason I have +gone out of the way to make an exception of so unimportant a person +is, that I think Joe did count for something on that particular March +day at least. + +When he finished the pile of wood that he had to saw, and went to the +house to get his money, he found nobody there. Going down the street +he found the town empty, and, looking down a cross street, he saw the +crowds that had gathered on the river-bank, thus learning at last that +something unusual had occurred. Of course he ran to the river to learn +what it was. + +When he got there he learned that Noah Martin the fisherman who was +also the ferryman between the village and its neighbor on the other +side of the river, had been drowned during the early morning in a +foolish attempt to row his ferry skiff across the stream. The ice +which had blocked the river for two months, had begun to move on the +day before, and Martin with his wife and baby--a child about a year +old--were on the other side of the river at the time. Early on that +morning there had been a temporary gorging of the ice about a mile +above the town, and, taking advantage of the comparatively free +channel, Martin had tried to cross with his wife and child, in his +boat. + +The gorge had broken up almost immediately, as the river was rising +rapidly, and Martin's boat had been caught and crushed in the ice. +Martin had been drowned, but his wife, with her child in her arms, had +clung to the wreck of the skiff, and had been carried by the current +to a little low-lying island just in front of the town. + +What had happened was of less importance, however, than what people +saw must happen. The poor woman and baby out there on the island, +drenched as they had been in the icy water, must soon die with cold, +and, moreover, the island was now nearly under water, while the great +stream was rising rapidly. It was evident that within an hour or two +the water would sweep over the whole surface of the island, and the +great fields of ice would of course carry the woman and child to a +terrible death. + +Many wild suggestions were made for their rescue, but none that gave +the least hope of success. It was simply impossible to launch a boat. +The vast fields of ice, two or three feet in thickness, and from +twenty feet to a hundred yards in breadth, were crushing and grinding +down the river at the rate of four or five miles an hour, turning and +twisting about, sometimes jamming their edges together with so great +a force that one would lap over another, and sometimes drifting apart +and leaving wide open spaces between for a moment or two. One might as +well go upon such a river in an egg shell as in the stoutest row-boat +ever built. + +The poor woman with her babe could be seen from the shore, standing +there alone on the rapidly narrowing strip of island. Her voice could +not reach the people on the bank, but when she held her poor little +baby toward them in mute appeal for help, the mothers there understood +her agony. + +There was nothing to be done, however. Human sympathy was given +freely, but human help was out of the question. Everybody on the +river-shore was agreed in that opinion. Everybody, that is to say, +except Joe Lambert. He had been so long in the habit of finding ways +to help himself under difficulties, that he did not easily make up his +mind to think any case hopeless. + +No sooner did Joe clearly understand how matters stood than he ran +away from the crowd, nobody paying any attention to what he did. Half +an hour later somebody cried out: "Look there! Who's that, and what's +he going to do?" pointing up the stream. + +Looking in that direction, the people saw some one three quarters of +a mile away standing on a floating field of ice in the river. He had +a large farm-basket strapped upon his shoulders, while in his hands he +held a plank. + +As the ice-field upon which he stood neared another, the youth ran +forward, threw his plank down, making a bridge of it, and crossed to +the farther field. Then picking up his plank, he waited for a chance +to repeat the process. + +As he thus drifted down the river, every eye was strained in his +direction. Presently some one cried out: "It's Joe Lambert; and he's +trying to cross to the island!" + +There was a shout as the people understood the nature of Joe's heroic +attempt, and then a hush as its extreme danger became apparent. + +Joe had laid his plans wisely and well, but it seemed impossible that +he could succeed. His purpose was, with the aid of the plank to cross +from one ice-field to another until he should reach the island; but +as that would require a good deal of time, and the ice was moving down +stream pretty rapidly, it was necessary to start at a point above the +town. Joe had gone about a mile up the river before going on the ice, +and when first seen from the town he had already reached the channel. + +After that first shout a whisper might have been heard in the crowd on +the bank. The heroism of the poor boy's attempt awed the spectators, +and the momentary expectation that he would disappear forever amid +the crushing ice-fields, made them hold their breath in anxiety and +terror. + +His greatest danger was from the smaller cakes of ice. When it became +necessary for him to step upon one of these, his weight was sufficient +to make it tilt, and his footing was very insecure. After awhile as +he was nearing the island, he came into a large collection of these +smaller ice-cakes. For awhile he waited, hoping that a larger field +would drift near him; but after a minute's delay he saw that he +was rapidly floating past the island, and that he must either trust +himself to the treacherous broken ice, or fail in his attempt to save +the woman and child. + +[Illustration: Joe Saves Mrs. Martin and Baby Martin.] + +Choosing the best of the floes, he laid his plank and passed across +successfully. In the next passage, however, the cake tilted up, and +Joe Lambert went down into the water! A shudder passed through the +crowd on shore. + +"Poor fellow!" exclaimed some tender-hearted spectator; "it is all +over with him now." + +"No; look, look!" shouted another. "He's trying to climb upon the +ice. Hurrah! he's on his feet again!" With that the whole company of +spectators shouted for joy. + +Joe had managed to regain his plank as well as to climb upon a cake +of ice before the fields around could crush him, and now moving +cautiously, he made his way, little by little toward the island. + +"Hurrah! Hurrah! he's there at last!" shouted the people on the shore. + +"But will he get back again?" was the question each one asked himself +a moment later. + +Having reached the island, Joe very well knew that the more difficult +part of his task was still before him, for it was one thing for an +active boy to work his way over floating ice, and quite another to +carry a child and lead a woman upon a similar journey. + +But Joe Lambert was quick-witted and "long-headed," as well as brave, +and he meant to do all that he could to save these poor creatures for +whom he had risked his life so heroically. Taking out his knife he +made the woman cut her skirts off at the knees, so that she might walk +and leap more freely. Then placing the baby in the basket which was +strapped upon his back, he cautioned the woman against giving way to +fright, and instructed her carefully about the method of crossing. + +On the return journey Joe was able to avoid one great risk. As it +was not necessary to land at any particular point, time was of little +consequence, and hence when no large field of ice was at hand, he +could wait for one to approach, without attempting to make use of the +smaller ones. Leading the woman wherever that was necessary, he slowly +made his way toward shore, drifting down the river, of course, while +all the people of the town marched along the bank. + +When at last Joe leaped ashore in company with the woman, and bearing +her babe in the basket on his back, the people seemed ready to trample +upon each other in their eagerness to shake hands with their hero. + +Their hero was barely able to stand, however. Drenched as he had been +in the icy river, the sharp March wind had chilled him to the marrow, +and one of the village doctors speedily lifted him into his carriage +which he had brought for that purpose, and drove rapidly away, while +the other physician took charge of Mrs. Martin and the baby. + +Joe was a strong, healthy fellow, and under the doctor's treatment of +hot brandy and vigorous rubbing with coarse towels, he soon warmed. +Then he wanted to saw enough wood for the doctor to pay for his +treatment, and thereupon the doctor threatened to poison him if he +should ever venture to mention pay to him again. + +Naturally enough the village people talked of nothing but Joe +Lambert's heroic deed, and the feeling was general that they had never +done their duty toward the poor orphan boy. There was an eager wish to +help him now, and many offers were made to him; but these all took the +form of charity, and Joe would not accept charity at all. Four years +earlier, as I have already said, he had refused to go to the poorhouse +or to be "bound out," declaring that he could take care of himself; +and when some thoughtless person had said in his hearing that he would +have to live on charity, Joe's reply had been: + +"I'll never eat a mouthful in this town that I haven't worked for if +I starve." And he had kept his word. Now that he was fifteen years old +he was not willing to begin receiving charity even in the form of a +reward for his good deed. + +One day when some of the most prominent men of the village were +talking to him on the subject Joe said: + +"I don't want anything except a chance to work, but I'll tell you what +you may do for me if you will. Now that poor Martin is dead the ferry +privilege will be to lease again, I'd like to get it for a good long +term. Maybe I can make something out of it by being always ready to +row people across, and I may even be able to put on something better +than a skiff after awhile. I'll pay the village what Martin paid." + +The gentlemen were glad enough of a chance to do Joe even this small +favor, and there was no difficulty in the way. The authorities gladly +granted Joe a lease of the ferry privilege for twenty years, at twenty +dollars a year rent, which was the rate Martin had paid. + +At first Joe rowed people back and forth, saving what money he got +very carefully. This was all that could be required of him, but it +occurred to Joe that if he had a ferry boat big enough, a good many +horses and cattle and a good deal of freight would be sent across the +river, for he was a "long-headed" fellow as I have said. + +One day a chance offered, and he bought for twenty-five dollars a +large old wood boat, which was simply a square barge forty feet long +and fifteen feet wide, with bevelled bow and stern, made to hold cord +wood for the steamboats. With his own hands he laid a stout deck +on this, and, with the assistance of a man whom he hired for that +purpose, he constructed a pair of paddle wheels. By that time Joe was +out of money, and work on the boat was suspended for awhile. When +he had accumulated a little more money, he bought a horse power, and +placed it in the middle of his boat, connecting it with the shaft of +his wheels. Then he made a rudder and helm, and his horse-boat was +ready for use. It had cost him about a hundred dollars besides his own +labor upon it, but it would carry live stock and freight as well as +passengers, and so the business of the ferry rapidly increased, and +Joe began to put a little money away in the bank. + +After awhile a railroad was built into the village, and then a second +one came. A year later another railroad was opened on the other side +of the river, and all the passengers who came to one village by rail +had to be ferried across the river in order to continue their journey +by the railroads there. The horse-boat was too small and too slow for +the business, and Joe Lambert had to buy two steam ferry-boats to take +its place. These cost more money than he had, but, as the owner of +the ferry privilege, his credit was good, and the boats soon paid for +themselves, while Joe's bank account grew again. + +Finally the railroad people determined to run through cars for +passengers and freight, and to carry them across the river on large +boats built for that purpose; but before they gave their orders +to their boat builders, they were waited upon by the attorneys of +Joe Lambert, who soon convinced them that his ferry privilege gave +him alone the right to run any kind of ferry-boats between the two +villages which had now grown to such size that they called themselves +cities. The result was that the railroads made a contract with Joe to +carry their cars across, and he had some large boats built for that +purpose. + +All this occurred a good many years ago, and Joe Lambert is not called +Joe now, but Captain Lambert. He is one of the most prosperous men in +the little river city, and owns many large river steamers besides his +ferry-boats. Nobody is readier than he to help a poor boy or a poor +man; but he has his own way of doing it. He will never toss so much as +a cent to a beggar, but he never refuses to give man or boy a chance +to earn money by work. He has an odd theory that money which comes +without work does more harm than good. + +GEORGE CARY EGGLESTON. + + + + +THE CHRISTMAS GIFT. + + + O you dear little dog, all eyes and fluff! + How can I ever love you enough? + How was it, I wonder, that any one knew + I wanted a little dog, just like you? + With your jet black nose, and each sharp-cut ear, + And the tail you wag--O you _are_ so dear! + Did you come trotting through all the snow + To find my door, I should like to know? + Or did you ride with the fairy team + Of Santa Claus, of which children dream, + Tucked all up in the furs so warm, + Driving like mad over village and farm, + O'er the country drear, o'er the city towers, + Until you stopped at this house of ours? + Did you think 'twas a little girl like me + You were coming so fast thro' the snow to see? + Well, whatever way you happened here, + You are my pet and my treasure dear-- + _Such_ a Christmas present! O such a joy! + Better than any kind of a toy! + Something that eats and drinks and walks, + And looks so lovely and _almost_ talks; + With a face so comical and wise, + And such a pair of bright brown eyes! + I'll tell you something: The other day + I heard papa to my mamma say + Very softly, "I really fear + Our baby may be quite spoiled, my dear, + We've made of our darling such a pet, + I think the little one may forget + There's any creature beneath the sun + Beside herself to waste thought upon." + I'm going to show him what I can do + For a dumb little helpless thing like you. + I'll not be selfish and slight you, dear; + Whenever I can I shall keep you near. + +CELIA THAXTER. + + + + +SOME EDUCATED HORSES. + + +[Illustration: A NOD OF GREETING.] + +One of the most pleasing of modern English authors, Philip Gilbert +Hamerton, who is an artist as well as writer, and who loves animals +almost as he does art, says that it would be interesting for a man to +live permanently in a large hall into which three or four horses, of a +race already intelligent, should be allowed to go and come freely from +the time they were born, just as dogs do in a family where they are +pets, or something to that effect. They should have full liberty to +poke their noses in their master's face, or lay their heads on his +shoulder at meal-time, receiving their treat of lettuce or sugar or +bread, only they must understand that they would be punished if they +knocked off the vases or upset furniture, or did other mischief. He +would like to see this tried, and see what would come of it; what +intelligence a horse would develop, and what love. + +The plan looks quixotic, does it not? But one thing you may be sure +of; he might have worse associates. There are grades of intellect--we +will call it intellect, for it comes very near, _so_ near that we +never can know just where the fine shading off begins between a +horse's brain and that of a man; and there are warm, loving equine +hearts. Many horses are superior to many men; nobler, more honorable, +quicker-witted, more loyal, and a thousand times more companionable. +Would you not rather, if you had to live on Robinson Crusoe's island, +have an intelligent, sympathetic horse and a devoted bright dog than +some people you know? One is inclined to favor Hamerton's notion after +seeing the Bartholomew Educated Horses, who can do almost anything but +speak. + +[Illustration: BUCEPHALUS TAKES THE HAT.] + +I am writing this for boys and girls who love animals, and for those +elderly people who are fond of them too, including the lady whom I +overheard saying that she had been nine times to see the remarkable +exhibition. The young folks were enthusiastic patrons of that little +theatre in Boston, where for more than a hundred afternoons and +evenings the "Professor," as he was called, showed off his four-footed +pupils. One forenoon he set apart for a free entertainment of as many +poor children as the house would hold, who went under the charge of +the truant officers and had an overwhelming good time. + +There were sixteen of the animals, counting a donkey; grays, bays, +chestnut-colored beauties, and one who looked buff in the gaslight. In +recalling them, I cannot say that there was a white-footed one. What +consequence about white feet, you ask! Perhaps you know that they +make that of some account in the horse bazaars of the East. The Turks +say "two white fore feet are lucky; one white fore and hind foot are +unlucky;" and they have a rhyme that runs-- + + One white foot, buy a horse, + Two white feet, try a horse, + Three white feet, look well about him, + Four white feet, do without him. + +[Illustration: THE CHAIR IS BROUGHT.] + +They were all named. There was a Chevalier, a Prince, and a Pope; a +little pet, Miss Nellie, who looked as if she would be ready to drink +tea out of your saucer and kiss you after her fashion; Mustang, an +irrepressible and rude savage from the Rio Grande region; Brutus, +Caesar, and Draco; a Broncho beauty; a Sprite; a stately stepping +Abdallah; Jim, who was a character; and a Bucephalus, after that +storied steed who would suffer no one to ride but his master, the +Great Alexander, but for him to mount, would kneel and wait. + +It is perhaps needless and an insult to their intelligence for me to +say that they all know their own names as well as you know yours. They +know, too, their numbers when they are acting as soldiers formed in +line waiting orders; the Professor passes along and checking them off +with his forefinger numbers them, then falling back, calls out for +certain ones to form into platoons, and they make no mistake. Their +ears are alert, their senses sharp, their memory good. "Number Two," +"Number Four," and so on, answer by advancing, as a soldier would +respond to the roll-call. + +They came around from the stable an hour before the performance and +went up the stairs by which the audience went; and a crowd used to +gather every afternoon and evening to see that remarkable and free +feat. + +[Illustration: PRINCE.] + +When the curtain rose there was to be seen a small stage carpeted +ankle deep with saw-dust, where Professor Bartholomew purposed to have +his horses act; first the part of a school, then of a court room, last +a military drill and taking of a fort. They came in one after another, +pretending, if that is not too strong a word, that they were on the +way to school, and that was the playground; and there they played +together, with such soft, graceful action, such caressing ways, and +trippings as dainty as in "Pinafore," until at the ringing of a bell +they came at once to order from their mixed-up, mazy pastime, and +waited the arrival of their teacher, the Professor, who entered with a +schoolmaster air, and gave the order. + +"Bucephalus, take my hat, and bring me a chair!" as you might tell +James or John to do the same, and with more promptness than they would +have shown, Bucephalus came forward, took the hat between his teeth, +carried it across the stage and placed it on a desk, and brought a +chair. + +[Illustration: SPRITE AS A MATHEMATICIAN.] + +The master, seating himself, began the business of the day, saying, +"The school will now form two classes; the large scholars will go to +the left, the small ones to the right;" and six magnificent creatures +separated themselves from the group huddled together and went as they +were bid, while Nellie, the mustang, and other little ones, filed off +to the opposite side, and placed themselves in a row, with their heads +turned away from the stage. And there they remained, generally minding +their business, though sometimes one would get out of position, look +around, or give his neighbor a nudge which brought out a reprimand: +"Pope, what are you doing?" "Brutus, you need not look around to see +what I am about!" "Sprite, you let Mustang alone!" "Mustang, keep in +your place!" + +He then called for some one to come forward and be monitor, and Prince +volunteered, was sent to the desk for some papers, tried to raise the +lid, and let it drop, pretending that he couldn't, but after being +sharply asked what he was so careless for, did it, and then brought a +handkerchief and made a great ado about wanting to have something done +with it, which proved to be tying it around his leg. Meanwhile one +of the horses behaved badly, whereupon the teacher said, "I see you +are booked for a whipping," and the culprit came out in the floor, +straightened himself, and received without wincing what seemed to be +a severe whipping; but in reality it was all done with a soft cotton +snapper, which made more sound than anything else. + +[Illustration: ABDALLAH PACES.] + +Mustang was called upon to ring the bell, a good-sized dinner-bell, +for the blackboard exercises by Sprite. He, too, made believe he +couldn't, seized it the wrong way, dropped it, picked it up wrong end +first, was scolded at, then took it by the handle, gave it a vigorous +shake, and after letting it fall several times, set it on the table. +Meanwhile a platform was brought in supporting a tall post, at the +top of which, higher than a horse could reach, was a blackboard having +chalked on it a sum which was not added up correctly. Sprite, being +requested to wipe it out, took the sponge from the table, and planting +her fore-feet on the platform, stretched her head up, and by desperate +passes succeeded in wiping out a part of the figures, and started to +leave, but seeing that some remained, went back and erased them. + +One day she went through a process which showed conclusively that +horses can reason. She dropped the sponge the first thing, and it fell +down behind the platform out of her sight. She got down, and looked +about in the saw-dust for it, the audience curiously watching to see +what she would do next. She was evidently much perplexed. She knew +perfectly well that her duty would not be fulfilled until she had +rubbed the figures out, and the sponge was not to be found. Mr. +Bartholomew said nothing, gave her no look or hint or sign to help her +out of her predicament, but sat in his chair and waited. At last she +deliberately stepped on the platform again, stretched her head up and +wiped the figures out with her mouth, at which the audience applauded +as if they would bring the roof down. That was something clearly not +in the programme, but a bit of independent reasoning. Yet, having +done so much, she knew that something was not right. About that +sponge--what had become of it? It was her business to lay it on the +table when she was through using it. She hesitated, looked this way +and that, started to go, came back, dreadfully puzzled and uncertain, +suddenly spied it, set her teeth in it, put it on the table, and +went to her place, with a clear conscience, no doubt, and the people +cheered more wildly than before. + +[Illustration: A GAME OF LEAP-FROG.] + +This was to me one of the most interesting things I witnessed; and +connecting it with some facts Mr. Bartholomew communicated, it was +doubly so. + +[Illustration: NELLIE ROLLS THE BARREL OVER THE "TETER."] + +He said that it was his practice not to interfere or help; the horse +knew just what she was to do, and he preferred to wait and let her +think it out for herself. The other horses all knew too if there was +any failure or mistake, and the offender was closely watched by them, +and in some way reproved by them if they could get the opportunity, +and at times this little by-play became very amusing. + +After this was most exquisite dancing by Bucephalus, and by Caesar, +whose steppings were in perfect rhythm to the music. Then the latter +turned in a circle to the right or the left and walked around defining +the figure eight, just as any one in the audience chose to request; +and Abdallah came in with a string of bells around her, and paced, +cantered, galloped, trotted, marched or walked as the word was given. +The horses were generally expected to come to the footlights and +bow to the audience at the close of any feat; occasionally one would +forget to do this, and then some of his comrades would shoulder or +buffet him, or Mr. Bartholomew would give a reminder, "That is not +all, is it?" and back would come the delinquent, and bow and bow +twenty times as fast as he could, as if there could not be enough of +it. At the close of one scene all the horses came up to the front in a +line, and leaning over the rope which was stretched there to keep them +from coming down on the people's heads, would bow, and bow again, and +it was a wonderfully pretty sight to see. + +A game of leap frog was announced. "There are four of the horses that +jump," said Mr. Bartholomew. They like this least of any of their +feats, and those who can do it best are most timid. At first one horse +is jumped over, then two, three, are packed closely together, and +little Sprite clears them all at one flying leap, broad-backed and +much taller than herself though they are. Those who do not want to +try it beg off by a pretty pantomime, and Sprite is encouraged by her +master, who pats her first and seems to be saying something in her +ear. They like to get approval in the way of a caress, but beyond that +they are in no way rewarded. + +[Illustration: PRINCE AND POPE PLAY AT SEE-SAW.] + +Next Nellie rolled a barrel over a "teter plank" with her fore-feet, +and Prince and Pope performed the difficult feat, and one which +required mutual understanding and confidence, of see-sawing away up +in air on the plank; first face to face, carefully balancing, and then +the latter slowly turned on the space less than twenty inches wide, +without disturbing the delicate poise. This he considers one of the +most remarkable, because each horse must act with reference to the +other, and the understanding between them must be so perfect that no +fatal false movement can be made. + +One of the grand tableaux represents a court scene with the donkey +set up in a high place for judge, the jury passing around from mouth +to mouth a placard labelled "Not Guilty," and the releasing of the +prisoner from his chain. But the military drill exceeds all else by +the brilliance of the display and the inspiring movements and martial +air. Mr. Bartholomew in military uniform advancing like a general, +disciplined twelve horses who came in at bugle call, with a crimson +band about their bodies and other decorations, and went through +evolutions, marchings, counter-marchings, in single file, by twos, in +platoons, forming a hollow square with the precision of old soldiers. +They liked it too, and were proud of themselves as they stepped to the +music. The final act was a furious charge on a fort, the horses firing +cannon, till in smoke and flame, to the sound of patriotic strains, +the structure was demolished, the country's flag was saved, caught up +by one horse, seized by another, waved, passed around, and amidst the +excitement and confusion of a great victory, triumphant horses rushing +about, the curtain fell. + +[Illustration: THE GREAT COURT SCENE.] + +It was from first to last a wonderful exhibition of horse +intelligence. + +Trained horses, that is, trained for circus feats at given signals, +are no novelty. Away back in the reign of one of the Stuarts, a horse +named Morocco was exhibited in England, though his tricks were only as +the alphabet to what is done now. And long before Rarey's day, there +was here and there a man who had a sort of magnetic influence, and +could tame a vicious horse whom nobody else dared go near. When George +the Fourth was Prince of Wales, he had a valuable Egyptian horse who +would throw, they said, the best rider in the world. Even if a man +could succeed in getting on his back, it was not an instant he could +stay there. But there came to England on a visit a distinguished +Eastern bey, with his mamelukes, who, hearing of the matter which +was the talk of the town, declared that the animal should be ridden. +Accordingly many royal personages and noblemen met the Orientals at +the riding house of the Prince, in Pall Mall, a mameluke's saddle was +put on the vicious creature, who was led in, looking in a white heat +of fury, wicked, with danger in his eyes, when, behold, the bey's +chief officer sprung on his back and rode for half an hour as easily +as a lady would amble on the most spiritless pony that ever was +bridled. + +[Illustration: STRETCHING HIMSELF.] + +Some men have a tact, a way with animals, and can do anything with +them. It is a born gift, a rare one, and a precious one. There was a +certain tamer of lions and tigers, Henri Marten by name, who lately +died at the age of ninety, who tamed by his personal influence alone. +It was said of him in France, that at the head of an army he "might +have been a Bonaparte. Chance has made a man of genius a director of a +menagerie." + +Professor Bartholomew was ready to talk about his way, but a part of +it is the man himself. He could not make known to another what is the +most essential requisite. He, too, brought genius to his work; besides +that, a certain indefinable mastership which animals recognize, love +for them, and a vast amount of perseverance and patient waiting. It is +a thing that is not done in a day. + +He was fond of horses from a boy, and began early to educate one, +having a remarkable faculty for handling them; so that now, after +thirty years of it, there is not much about the equine nature that +he does not understand. He trained a company of Bronchos, which were +afterwards sold; and since then he has gradually got together the +fifteen he now exhibits, and he has others in process of training. He +took these when they were young, two or three years old; and not one +of them, except Jim, who has a bit of outside history, has ever been +used in any other way. They know nothing about carriages or carts, +harness or saddle; they have escaped the cruel curb-bits, the check +reins and blinders of our civilization. Fortunate in that respect. And +they never have had a shoe on their feet. Their feet are perfect, firm +and sound, strong and healthy and elastic; natural, like those of the +Indians, who run barefoot, who go over the rough places of the wilds +as easily as these horses can run up the stairs or over the cobble +stones of the pavement if they were turned loose in the street. + +[Illustration: MILITARY DRILL.] + +It was a pleasure to know of their life-long exemption from all +such restraints. That accounted in great measure for their beautiful +freedom of motion, for that wondrous grace and charm. Did you ever +think what a complexity of muscles, bones, joints, tendons and other +arrangements, enter into the formation of the knees, hoofs, legs of a +horse; what a piece of mechanism the strong, supple creature is? + +These have never had their spirits broken; have never been scolded at +or struck except when a whip was necessary as a rod sometimes is for +a child. The hostlers who take care of them are not allowed to speak +roughly. "Be low-spoken to them," the master says. In the years when +he was educating them he groomed and cared for them himself, with no +other help except that of his two little sons. No one else was allowed +to meddle with them; and, necessarily, they were kept separate from +other horses. Now, wherever they are exhibiting, he always goes out +the first thing in the morning to see them. He passes from one to +another, and they are all expecting the little love pats and slaps +on their glossy sides, the caressings and fondlings and pleasant +greetings of "Chevalier, how are you, old fellow?" "Abdallah, +my beauty," and, "Nellie, my pet!" Some are jealous, Abdallah +tremendously so, and if he does not at once notice her, she lays her +ears back, shows temper, and crowds up to him, determined that no +other shall have precedence. + +[Illustration: A PRETTY TABLEAU.] + +They are not "thorough-breds." Those, he said, were for racers or +travellers; yet of fine breeds, some choice blood horses, some mixed, +one a mustang, who at first did not know anything that was wanted of +him. + +"Why," said he, "at first some of them would go up like pop corn, +higher than my head. But I never once have been injured by one of them +except perhaps an accidental stepping on my foot. They never kick; +they don't know how to kick. You can go behind them as well as before, +and anywhere." + +In buying he chose only those whose looks showed that they were +intelligent. "But how did he know, by what signs?" queried an +all-absorbed "Dumb Animals" woman. + +"Oh, dear," he said, "why, every way; the eyes, the ears, the whole +face, the expression, everything. No two horses' faces look alike. +Just as it is with a flock of sheep. A stranger would say, 'Why, they +are all sheep, and all alike, and that is all there is to it;' but the +owner knows better; he knows every face in the flock. He says, 'this +is Jenny, and that is Dolly, there is Jim, and here's Nancy.' Oh, +land, yes! they are no more alike than human beings are, disposition +or anything. Some have to be ordered, and some coaxed and flattered. +Yes, flattered. Now if two men come and want to work for me, I can +tell as soon as I cast my eyes on them. I say to one, 'Go and do such +a thing;' but if I said it to the other, he'd answer 'I won't; I'm not +going to be ordered about by any man.' Horses are just like that. A +horse can read you. If you get mad, he will. If you abuse him, he will +do the same by you, or try to. You must control yourself, if you would +control a horse." + +They must be of superior grade, "for it's of no use to spend one's +time on a dull one. It does not pay to teach idiots where you want +brilliant results, though all well enough for a certain purpose." + +Some of these he had been five years in educating to do what we saw. +Some he had taught to do their special part in one year, some in two. +The first thing he did was to give the horse opportunity and time to +get well acquainted with him; in his words, "to become friends. Let +him see that you are his friend, that you are not going to whip him. +You meet him cordially. You are glad to see him and be with him, and +pretty soon he knows it and likes to be with you. And so you establish +comradeship, you understand each other. Caress him softly. Don't make +a dash at him. Say pleasant things to him. Be gentle; but at the same +time you must be _master_." That is a good basis. And then he teaches +one thing at a time, a simple thing, and waits a good while before +he brings forward another; does not perplex or puzzle the pupil by +anything else till that is learned, and some of the first words are +"come," "stand," "remain." + +What a horse has once learned he never or seldom forgets. Mr. +Bartholomew thinks it is not as has sometimes been said, because a +horse has a memory stronger than a man, "but because he has fewer +things to learn. A man sees a million things. A horse's mind cannot +accommodate what a man's can, so those things he knows have a better +chance. Those few things he fixes. His memory fastens on them. I once +had a pony I had trained, which was afterwards gone from me three +years. At the end of that time I was in California exhibiting, and saw +a boy on the pony. I tried to buy him, but the boy who had owned him +all that time, refused to part with him; however, I offered such a +price that I got him, and that same evening I took him into the tent +and thought I would see what he remembered. He went through all his +old tricks (besides a few I had myself forgotten) except one. He could +not manage walking on his hind feet the distance he used to. Another +time I had a trained horse stolen from me by the Indians, and he was +off in the wilds with them a year and a half. One day, in a little +village--that was in California too--I saw him and knew him, and the +horse knew me. I went up to the Indian who had him and said, 'That is +my horse, and I can prove it.' Out there a stolen horse, no matter how +many times he has changed hands, is given up, if the owner can prove +it. The Indian said, 'If you can, you shall have him, but you won't +do it.' I said, 'I will try him in four things; I will ask him to trot +three times around a circle, to lie down, to sit up, and to bring me +my handkerchief. If he is my horse, he will do it.' The Indian said, +'You shall have him if he does, but he won't!' By this time a crowd +had got together. We put the horse in an enclosure, he did as he was +told, and I had him back." + +Mr. Bartholomew said, "My motto in educating them is, 'Make haste +slowly;' I never require too much, and I never ask a horse to do what +he _can't_ do. That is of no use. A horse _can't_ learn what horses +are not capable of learning; and he can't do a thing until he +understands what you mean, and how you want it done. What good would +it do for me to ask a man a question in French if he did not know a +word of the language? I get him used to the word, and show him what +I want. If it is to climb up somewhere, I gently put his foot up and +have him keep it there until I am ready to have it come down, and +then I take it down myself. I never let the horse do it. The same with +other things, showing him how, and by words. They know a great number +of words. My horses are not influenced by signs or motions when they +are on the stage. They use their intelligence and memory, and they +associate ideas and are required to obey. They learn a great deal by +observing one another. One watches and learns by seeing the others. +I taught one horse to kneel, by first bending his knee myself, and +putting him into position. After he had learned, I took another in +who kept watch all the time, and learned partly by imitation. They are +social creatures; they love each other's company." + +Most of these horses have been together now for several years, and +are fond of one another. They appear to keep the run of the whole +performance, and listen and notice like children in a school when +one or more of their number goes out to recite. It was extremely +interesting to observe them when the leap-frog game was going on. +Owing to the smallness of the stage, it was difficult for the horse +who was to make the jump to get under headway, and several times +poor Sprite, or whichever it was, would turn abruptly to make another +start, upon which every horse on her side would dart out for a chance +at giving her a nip as she went by. They all seemed throughout the +entire exhibition to feel a sort of responsibility, or at least a +pride in it, as if "this is _our_ school. See how well Bucephalus +minds, or how badly Brutus behaves! This is _our_ regiment. Don't +we march well? How fine and grand, how gallant and gay we are!" And +the wonder of it all is, not so much what any one horse can do, or +the sense of humor they show, or the great number of words they +understand, but the mental processes and nice calculation they show +in the feats where they are associated in complex ways, which require +that each must act his part independently and mind nothing about it if +another happens to make a mistake. + +[Illustration: VICTORY.] + +To obtain any adequate representation of these horses while +performing, it was necessary that it be done by process called +instantaneous photographing. You are aware that birds and insects are +taken by means of an instrument named the "photographic revolver," +which is aimed at them. Recently an American, Mr. Muybridge, has been +able to photograph horses while galloping or trotting, by his "battery +of cameras," and a book on "the Horse in Motion" has for its subject +this instantaneous catching a likeness as applied to animals. But how +could any process, however swift, or ingenious, or admirable, do full +justice to the grace and spirit, the all-alive attitudes and varieties +of posture, the dalliance and charm, the freedom in action? + +[Illustration: THE STORMING OF THE FORT.] + +Professor Bartholomew gave his performances the name of "The Equine +Paradox." He now has his beautiful animals in delightful summer +quarters at Newport, where they are counted among the "notable +guests." He has the Opera House there for his training school for +three months, preparing new ones for next winter's exhibition, and +keeping the old ones in practice. It is pleasant to know that he cares +so faithfully for their health as to give them a home through the warm +weather in that cool retreat by the sea. + +[Illustration: AFTER THE PLAY.] + + + + +QUESTIONS. + + + Can you put the spider's web back in its place, that once has been + swept away? + Can you put the apple again on the bough, which fell at our feet + to-day? + Can you put the lily-cup back on the stem, and cause it to live + and grow? + Can you mend the butterfly's broken wing, that you crushed with a + hasty blow? + Can you put the bloom again on the grape, or the grape again on + the vine? + Can you put the dewdrops back on the flowers, and make them + sparkle and shine? + Can you put the petals back on the rose? If you could, would it + smell as sweet? + Can you put the flour again in the husk, and show me the ripened + wheat? + Can you put the kernel back in the nut, or the broken egg in its + shell? + Can you put the honey back in the comb, and cover with wax each + cell? + Can you put the perfume back in the vase, when once it has sped + away? + Can you put the corn-silk back on the corn, or the down on the + catkins--say? + You think that my questions are trifling, dear? Let me ask you + another one: + Can a hasty word ever be unsaid, or a deed unkind, undone? + +KATE LAWRENCE. + + + + +THE BRAVEST BOY IN TOWN. + + + He lived in the Cumberland Valley, + And his name was Jamie Brown; + But it changed one day, so the neighbors say, + To the "Bravest Boy in Town." + + 'Twas the time when the Southern soldiers, + Under Early's mad command, + O'er the border made their dashing raid + From the north of Maryland. + + And Chambersburg unransomed + In smouldering ruins slept, + While up the vale, like a fiery gale, + The Rebel raiders swept. + + And a squad of gray-clad horsemen + Came thundering o'er the bridge, + Where peaceful cows in the meadows browse, + At the feet of the great Blue Ridge; + + And on till they reached the village, + That fair in the valley lay, + Defenseless then, for its loyal men, + At the front, were far away. + + "Pillage and spoil and plunder!" + This was the fearful word + That the Widow Brown, in gazing down + From her latticed window, heard. + + 'Neath the boughs of the sheltering oak-tree, + The leader bared his head, + As left and right, until out of sight, + His dusty gray-coats sped. + + Then he called: "Halloo! within there!" + A gentle, fair-haired dame + Across the floor to the open door + In gracious answer came. + + "Here! stable my horse, you woman!"-- + The soldier's tones were rude-- + "Then bestir yourself and from yonder shelf + Set out your store of food!" + + For her guest she spread the table; + She motioned him to his place + With a gesture proud; then the widow bowed, + And gently--asked a grace. + + "If thine enemy hunger, feed him! + I obey, dear Christ!" she said; + A creeping blush, with its scarlet flush, + O'er the face of the soldier spread. + + He rose: "You have said it, madam! + Standing within your doors + Is the Rebel foe; but as forth they go + They shall trouble not you nor yours!" + + Alas, for the word of the leader! + Alas, for the soldier's vow! + When the captain's men rode down the glen, + They carried the widow's cow. + + It was then the fearless Jamie + Sprang up with flashing eyes, + And in spite of tears and his mother's fears, + On the gray mare, off he flies. + + Like a wild young Tam O'Shanter + He plunged with piercing whoop, + O'er field and brook till he overtook + The straggling Rebel troop. + + Laden with spoil and plunder, + And laughing and shouting still, + As with cattle and sheep they lazily creep + Through the dust o'er the winding hill. + + "Oh! the coward crowd!" cried Jamie; + "There's Brindle! I'll teach them now!" + And with headlong stride, at the captain's side, + He called for his mother's cow. + + "Who are _you_, and who is your mother?-- + I promised she should not miss?-- + Well! upon my word, have I never heard + Of assurance like to this!" + + "Is your word the word of a soldier?"-- + And the young lad faced his foes, + As a jeering laugh, in anger half + And half in sport, arose. + + But the captain drew his sabre, + And spoke, with lowering brow: + "Fall back into line! The joke is mine! + Surrender the widow's cow!" + + And a capital joke they thought it, + That a barefoot lad of ten + Should demand his due--and get it too-- + In the face of forty men. + + And the rollicking Rebel raiders + Forgot themselves somehow, + And three cheers brave for the hero gave, + And three for the brindle cow. + + He lived in the Cumberland Valley, + And his name _was_ Jamie Brown; + But it changed that day, so the neighbors say, + To the "Bravest Boy in Town." + +MRS. EMILY HUNTINGTON NASON. + + + + +THE WOLF AND THE GOSLINGS. + + An old gray goose walked forth with pride, + With goslings seven at her side; + A lovely yellowish-green they were, + And very dear to her. + + She led them to the river's brink + To paddle their feet awhile and drink, + And there she heard a tale that made + Her very soul afraid. + + A neighbor gabbled the story out, + How a wolf was known to be thereabout-- + A great wolf whom nothing could please + As well as little geese. + + So, when, as usual, to the wood + She went next day in search of food, + She warned them over and over, before + She turned to shut the door: + +[Illustration] + + "My little ones, if you hear a knock + At the door, be sure and not unlock, + For the wolf will eat you, if he gets in, + Feathers and bones and skin. + + "You will know him by his voice so hoarse, + By his paws so hairy and black and coarse." + And the goslings piped up, clear and shrill, + "We'll take great care, we will." + + The mother thought them wise and went + To the far-off forest quite content; + But she was scarcely away, before + There came a rap at the door. + + "Open, open, my children dear," + A gruff voice cried: "your mother is here." + But the young ones answered, "No, no, no, + Her voice is sweet and low; + + "And you are the wolf--so go away, + You can't get in, if you try all day." + He laughed to himself to hear them talk, + And wished he had some chalk, + + To smooth his voice to a tone like geese; + So he went to the merchant's and bought a piece, + And hurried back, and rapped once more. + "Open, open the door, + + "I am your mother, dears," he said. + But up on the window ledge he laid, + In a careless way, his great black paw, + And this the goslings saw. + + "No, no," they called, "that will not do, + Our mother has not black hands like you; + For you are the wolf, so go away, + You can't get in to-day." + + The baffled wolf to the old mill ran, + And whined to the busy miller man: + "I love to hear the sound of the wheel + And to smell the corn and meal." + + The miller was pleased, and said "All right; + Would you like your cap and jacket white?" + At that he opened a flour bin + And playfully dipped him in. + + He floundered and sneezed a while, then, lo, + He crept out white as a wolf of snow. + "If chalk and flour can make me sweet," + He said, "then I'm complete." + +[Illustration] + + For the third time back to the house he went, + And looked and spoke so different, + That when he rapped, and "Open!" cried, + The little ones replied, + + "If you show us nice clean feet, we will." + And straightway, there on the window-sill + His paws were laid, with dusty meal + Powdered from toe to heel. + +[Illustration] + + Yes, they were white! So they let him in, + And he gobbled them all up, feathers and skin! + Gobbled the whole, as if 'twere fun, + Except the littlest one. + + An old clock stood there, tick, tick, tick, + And into that he had hopped so quick + The wolf saw nothing, and fancied even + He'd eaten all the seven. + + But six were enough to satisfy; + So out he strolled on the grass to lie. + And when the gray goose presently + Came home--what did she see? + + Alas, the house door open wide, + But no little yellow flock inside; + The beds and pillows thrown about; + The fire all gone out; + + The chairs and tables overset; + The wash-tub spilled, and the floor all wet; + And here and there in cinders black, + The great wolf's ugly track. + + She called out tenderly every name, + But never a voice in answer came, + Till a little frightened, broad-billed face + Peered out of the clock-case. + + This gosling told his tale with grief, + And the gray goose sobbed in her handkerchief, + And sighed--"Ah, well, we will have to go + And let the neighbors know." + +[Illustration] + + So down they went to the river's brim, + Where their feathered friends were wont to swim, + And there on the turf so green and deep + The old wolf lay asleep. + + He had a grizzly, savage look, + And he snored till the boughs above him shook. + They tiptoed round him--drew quite near, + Yet still he did not hear. + + Then, as the mother gazed, to her + It seemed she could see his gaunt side stir-- + Stir and squirm, as if under the skin + Were something alive within! + + "Go back to the house, quick, dear," she said, + "And fetch me scissors and needle and thread. + I'll open his ugly hairy hide, + And see what is inside." + +[Illustration] + + She snipped with the scissors a criss-cross slit, + And well rewarded she was for it, + For there were her goslings--six together-- + With scarcely a rumpled feather. + + The wolf had eaten so greedily, + He had swallowed them all alive you see, + So, one by one, they scrambled out, + And danced and skipped about. + + Then the gray goose got six heavy stones, + And placed them in between the bones; + She sewed him deftly, with needle and thread, + And then with her goslings fled. + + The wolf slept long and hard and late, + And woke so thirsty he scarce could wait. + So he crept along to the river's brink + To get a good cool drink. + + But the stones inside began to shake, + And make his old ribs crack and ache; + And the gladsome flock, as they sped away, + Could hear him groan, and say:-- + + "What's this rumbling and tumbling? + What's this rattling like bones? + I thought I'd eaten six small geese, + But they've turned out only stones." + + He bent his neck to lap--instead, + He tumbled in, heels over head; + And so heavy he was, as he went down + He could not help but drown! + + And after that, in thankful pride, + With goslings seven at her side, + The gray goose came to the river's brink + Each day to swim and drink. + +AMANDA B. HARRIS. + +[Illustration] + + + + +THE BISHOP'S VISIT. + + + Tell you about it? Of course I will! + I thought 'twould be dreadful to have him come, + For mamma said I must be quiet and still, + And she put away my whistle and drum.-- + +[Illustration] + + And made me unharness the parlor chairs, + And packed my cannon and all the rest + Of my noisiest playthings off up-stairs, + On account of this very distinguished guest. + + Then every room was turned upside down, + And all the carpets hung out to blow; + For when the Bishop is coming to town + The house must be in order, you know. + + So out in the kitchen I made my lair, + And started a game of hide-and-seek; + But Bridget refused to have me there, + For the Bishop was coming--to stay a week-- + + And she must have cookies and cakes and pies, + And fill every closet and platter and pan, + Till I thought this Bishop, so great and wise, + Must be an awfully hungry man. + + Well! at last he came; and I do declare, + Dear grandpapa, he looked just like you, + With his gentle voice and his silvery hair, + And eyes with a smile a-shining through. + + And whenever he read or talked or prayed, + I understood every single word; + And I wasn't the leastest bit afraid, + Though I never once spoke or stirred; + + Till, all of a sudden, he laughed right out + To see me sit quietly listening so; + And began to tell us stories about + Some queer little fellows in Mexico. + + And all about Egypt and Spain--and then + He _wasn't_ disturbed by a little noise, + And said that the greatest and best of men + Once were rollicking, healthy boys. + + And he thinks it is no matter at all + If a little boy runs and jumps and climbs; + And mamma should be willing to let me crawl + Through the bannister-rails in the hall sometimes. + + And Bridget, sir, made a great mistake, + In stirring up such a bother, you see, + For the Bishop--he didn't care for cake, + And really liked to play games with me. + + But though he's so honored in word and act-- + (Stoop down, this is a secret now)-- + _He couldn't spell Boston!_ That's a fact! + But whispered to me to tell him how. + +MRS. EMMA HUNTINGTON NASON. + + + + +THE FIRST STEP. + + + To-night as the tender gloaming + Was sinking in evening's gloom, + And only the glow of the firelight + Brightened the dark'ning room, + I laughed with the gay heart-gladness + That only to mothers is known, + For the beautiful brown-eyed baby + Took his first step alone! + +[Illustration: Baby's First Step.] + + Hurriedly running to meet him + Came trooping the household band, + Joyous, loving and eager + To reach him a helping hand, + To watch him with silent rapture, + To cheer him with happy noise, + My one little fair-faced daughter + And four brown romping boys. + + Leaving the sheltering arms + That fain would bid him rest + Close to the love and the longing, + Near to the mother's breast; + Wild with laughter and daring, + Looking askance at me, + He stumbled across through the shadows + To rest at his father's knee. + + Baby, my dainty darling, + Stepping so brave and bright + With flutter of lace and ribbon + Out of my arms to-night, + Helped in thy pretty ambition + With tenderness blessed to see, + Sheltered, upheld, and protected-- + How will the last step be? + + See, we are all beside you + Urging and beckoning on, + Watching lest aught betide you + Till the safe near goal is won, + Guiding the faltering footsteps + That tremble and fear to fall-- + How will it be, my darling, + With the last sad step of all? + + Nay! Shall I dare to question, + Knowing that One more fond + Than all our tenderest loving + Will guide the weak feet beyond! + And knowing beside, my dearest, + That whenever the summons, 'twill be + But a stumbling step through the shadows, + Then rest--at the Father's knee! + +M.E.B. + + + + +BINGEN ON THE RHINE. + + + A Soldier of the Legion lay dying in Algiers, + There was lack of woman's nursing, there was dearth of woman's + tears; + But a comrade stood beside him while his life-blood ebbed away, + And bent with pitying glances to hear what he might say. + The dying soldier faltered, as he took that comrade's hand, + And he said, "I never more shall see my own, my native land; + Take a message, and a token to some distant friends of mine, + For I was born at Bingen, at Bingen on the Rhine. + + "Tell my brothers and companions when they meet and crowd around + To hear my mournful story, in the pleasant vineyard ground, + That we fought the battle bravely, and when the day was done, + Full many a corse lay ghastly pale beneath the setting sun; + And, 'mid the dead and dying, were some grown old in wars, + The death-wound on their gallant breasts, the last of many scars; + And some were young, and suddenly beheld life's morn decline, + And one had come from Bingen, fair Bingen on the Rhine. + + "Tell my mother that her other son shall comfort her old age; + For I was still a truant bird, that thought his home a cage. + For my father was a soldier, and even as a child + My heart leaped forth to hear him tell of struggles fierce and wild; + And when he died and left us to divide his scanty hoard + I let them take whate'er they would, but I kept my father's sword; + And with boyish love I hung it where the bright light used to shine + On the cottage wall at Bingen, calm Bingen on the Rhine. + + "Tell my sister not to weep for me, and sob with drooping head, + When the troops come marching home again with glad and gallant + tread, + But to look upon them proudly, with a calm and steadfast eye, + For her brother was a soldier, too, and not afraid to die; + And if a comrade seek her love, I ask her in my name, + To listen to him kindly, without regret or shame, + And to hang the old sword in its place, my father's sword and mine; + For the honor of old Bingen, dear Bingen on the Rhine. + + "There's another, not a sister, in the happy days gone by, + You'd have known her by the merriment that sparkled in her eye; + Too innocent for coquetry, too fond for idle scorning, + O, friend! I fear the lightest heart makes sometimes heaviest + mourning. + Tell her the last night of my life (for ere the moon be risen + My body will be out of pain, my soul be out of prison), + I dreamed I stood with her, and saw the yellow sunlight shine, + On the vine-clad hills of Bingen, fair Bingen on the Rhine. + +[Illustration] + + "I saw the blue Rhine sweep along; I heard, or seemed to hear, + The German songs we used to sing in chorus sweet and clear; + And down the pleasant river and up the slanting hill, + The echoing chorus sounded, through the evening calm and still; + And her glad blue eyes were on me, as we passed, with friendly talk + Down many a path beloved of yore, and well remembered walk, + And her little hand lay lightly, confidingly, in mine, + But we'll meet no more at Bingen, loved Bingen on the Rhine." + + His trembling voice grew faint and hoarse, his grasp was childish + weak, + His eyes put on a dying look, he sighed, and ceased to speak; + His comrade bent to lift him, but the spark of life had fled-- + The soldier of the Legion in a foreign land is dead; + And the soft moon rose up slowly, and calmly she looked down + On the red sand of the battle-field with bloody corses strewn; + Yet calmly on that dreadful scene her pale light seemed to shine, + As it shone on distant Bingen, fair Bingen on the Rhine. + +CAROLINE E.S. NORTON. + + + + +OSITO. + + +On the lofty mountain that faced the captain's cabin the frost had +already made an insidious approach, and the slender thickets of +quaking ash that marked the course of each tiny torrent, now stood +out in resplendent hues and shone afar off like gay ribbons running +through the dark-green pines. Gorgeously, too, with scarlet, crimson +and gold, gleamed the lower spurs, where the oak-brush grew in dense +masses and bore beneath a blaze of color, a goodly harvest of acorns, +now ripe and loosened in their cups. + +It was where one of these spurs joined the parent mountain, where the +oak-brush grew thickest, and, as a consequence, the acorns were most +abundant, that the captain, well versed in wood-craft mysteries, +had built his bear trap. For two days he had been engaged upon +it, and now, as the evening drew on, he sat contemplating it with +satisfaction, as a work finished and perfected. + +From his station there, on the breast of the lofty mountain, the +captain could scan many an acre of sombre pine forest with pleasant +little parks interspersed, and here and there long slopes brown with +bunch grass. He was the lord of this wild domain. And yet his sway +there was not undisputed. Behind an intervening spur to the westward +ran an old Indian trail long traveled by the Southern Utes in their +migrations north for trading and hunting purposes. And even now, a +light smoke wafted upward on the evening air, told of a band encamped +on the trail on their homeward journey to the Southwest. + +The captain needed not this visual token of their proximity. He +had been aware of it for several days. Their calls at his cabin in +the lonely little park below had been frequent, and they had been +specially solicitous of his coffee, his sugar, his biscuit and other +delicacies, insomuch that once or twice during his absence these +ingenuous children of Nature had with primitive simplicity, entered +his cabin and helped themselves without leave or stint. + +However, as he knew their stay would be short, the captain bore +these neighborly attentions with mild forbearance. It was guests more +graceless than these who had roused his wrath. + +From their secret haunts far back towards the Snowy Range the bears +had come down to feast upon the ripened acorns, and so doing, had +scented the captain's bacon and sugar afar off and had prowled by +night about the cabin. Nay, more, three days before, the captain, +having gone hurriedly away and left the door loosely fastened, upon +his return had found all in confusion. Many of his eatables had +vanished, his flour sack was ripped open, and, unkindest cut of all, +his beloved books lay scattered about. At the first indignant glance +the captain had cried out, "Utes again!" But on looking around he saw +a tell-tale trail left by floury bear paws. + +Hence this bear trap. + +It was but a strong log pen floored with rough-hewn slabs and fitted +with a ponderous movable lid made of other slabs pinned on stout cross +pieces. But, satisfied with his handiwork, the captain now arose, and, +prying up one end of the lid with a lever, set the trigger and baited +it with a huge piece of bacon. He then piled a great quantity of rock +upon the already heavy lid to further guard against the escape of any +bear so unfortunate as to enter, and shouldering his axe and rifle +walked homewards. + +Whatever vengeful visions of captive bears he was indulging in were, +however, wholly dispelled as he drew near the cabin. Before the +door stood the Ute chief accompanied by two squaws. "How!" said the +chieftain, with a conciliatory smile, laying one hand on his breast of +bronze and extending the other as the captain approached. + +"How!" returned the captain bluffly, disdaining the hand with a +recollection of sundry petty thefts. + +"Has the great captain seen a pappoose about his wigwam?" asked +the chief, nowise abashed, in Spanish--a language which many of the +Southern Utes speak as fluently as their own. + +The great captain had expected a request for a biscuit; he, therefore, +was naturally surprised at being asked for a baby. With an effort he +mustered together his Spanish phrases and managed to reply that he had +seen no pappoose. + +"Me pappoose lost," said one of the squaws brokenly. And there was so +much distress in her voice that the captain, forgetting instantly all +about the slight depredations of his dusky neighbors, volunteered to +aid them in their search for the missing child. + +All that night, for it was by this time nearly dark, the hills flared +with pine torches and resounded with the shrill cries of the squaws, +the whoops of the warriors, the shouts of the captain; but the search +was fruitless. + +This adventure drove the bear-trap from its builder's mind, and it +was two days before it occurred to him to go there in quest of captive +bears. + +Coming in view of it he immediately saw the lid was down. Hastily he +approached, bent over, and peeped in. And certainly, in the whole of +his adventurous life the captain was never more taken by surprise; for +there, crouched in one corner, was that precious Indian infant. + +Yes, true it was, that all those massive timbers, all that ponderous +mass of rock, had only availed to capture one very small Ute pappoose. +At the thought of it, the builder of the trap was astounded. He +laughed aloud at the absurdity. In silence he threw off the rock +and lid and seated himself on the edge of the open trap. Captor and +captive then gazed at each other with gravity. The errant infant's +attire consisted of a calico shirt of gaudy hues, a pair of little +moccasins, much frayed, and a red flannel string. This last was tied +about his straggling hair, which fell over his forehead like the +shaggy mane of a _bronco_ colt and veiled, but could not obscure, the +brightness of his black eyes. + +He did not cry; in fact, this small stoic never even whimpered, but he +held the bacon, or what remained of it, clasped tightly to his breast +and gazed at his captor in silence. Glancing at the bacon, the captain +saw it all. Hunger had induced this wee wanderer to enter the trap, +and in detaching the bait, he had sprung the trigger and was caught. + +"What are you called, little one?" asked the captain at length, in a +reassuring voice, speaking Spanish very slowly and distinctly. + +"Osito," replied the wanderer in a small piping voice, but with the +dignity of a warrior. + +"Little Bear!" the captain repeated, and burst into a hearty laugh, +immediately checked, however by the thought that now he had caught +him, what was he to do with him? The first thing, evidently, was to +feed him. + +So he conducted him to the cabin and there, observing the celerity +with which the lumps of sugar vanished, he saw at once that Little +Bear was most aptly named. Then, sometimes leading, and sometimes +carrying him, for Osito was very small, he set out for the Ute +encampment. + +Their approach was the signal for a mighty shout. Warriors, squaws and +the younger confreres of Osito, crowded about him. A few words from +the captain explained all, and Osito himself, clinging to his mother, +was borne away in triumph--the hero of the hour. Yet, no--the captain +was that, I believe. For as he stood in their midst with a very +pleased look on his sunburnt face, the chief quieting the hubbub with +a wave of his hand, advanced and stood before him. "The great captain +has a good heart," he said in tones of conviction. "What can his Ute +friends do to show their gratitude?" + +"Nothing," said the captain, looking more pleased than ever. + +"The captain has been troubled by the bears. Would it please him if +they were all driven back to their dens in the great mountains towards +the setting sun?" + +"It would," said the captain; "can it be done?" + +"It can. It shall," said the chief with emphasis. "To-morrow let the +_captain_ keep his eyes open, and as the sun sinks behind the mountain +tops he shall see the bears follow also." + +The chief kept his word. The next day the uproar on the hills was +terrific. Frightened out of their wits, the bears forsook the acorn +field and fled ingloriously to their secret haunts in the mountains to +the westward. + +[Illustration: "WHAT ARE YOU CALLED, LITTLE ONE?" ASKED THE CAPTAIN.] + +In joy thereof the captain gave a great farewell feast to his red +allies. It was spread under the pines in front of his cabin, and every +delicacy of the season was there, from bear steaks to beaver tails. +The banquet was drawing to a close, and complimentary speeches 'twixt +host and guests were in order, when a procession of the squaws was +seen approaching from the encampment. They drew near and headed for +the captain in solemn silence. As they passed, each laid some gift +at his feet--fringed leggings; beaded moccasins, bear skins, coyote +skins, beaver pelts and soft robes of the mountain lion's hide--until +the pile reached to the captain's shoulders. Last of all came Osito's +mother and crowned the heap with a beautiful little brown bear skin. +It was fancifully adorned with blue ribbons, and in the center of the +tanned side there were drawn, in red pigment, the outlines of a very +stolid and stoical-looking pappoose. + +F.L. STEALEY. + + + + +THE LITTLE LION-CHARMER. + + + Outside the little village of Katrine, + Just where the country ventures into town, + A circus pitched its tents, and on the green + The canvas pyramids were fastened down. + + The night was clear. The moon was climbing higher. + The show was over; crowds were coming out, + When, through the surging mass, the cry of "fire!" + Rose from a murmur to a wild, hoarse shout. + + "Fire! fire!" The crackling flames ran up the tent, + The shrieks of frightened women filled the air, + The cries of prisoned beasts weird horror lent + To the wild scene of uproar and despair. + + A lion's roar high over all the cries! + There is a crash--out into the night + The tawny creature leaps with glowing eyes, + Then stands defiant in the fierce red light. + + "The lion's loose! The lion! Fly for your lives!" + But deathlike silence falls upon them all, + So paralyzed with fear that no one strives + To make escape, to move, to call! + + "A weapon! Shoot him!" comes from far outside; + The shout wakes men again to conscious life; + But as the aim is taken, the ranks divide + To make a passage for the keeper's wife. + + Alone she came, a woman tall and fair, + And hurried on, and near the lion stood; + "Oh, do not fire!" she cried; "let no one dare + To shoot my lion--he is tame and good. + + "My son? my son?" she called; and to her ran + A little child, that scarce had seen nine years. + "Play! play!" she said. Quickly the boy began. + His little flute was heard by awe-struck ears. + + "Fetch me a cage," she cried. The men obeyed. + "Now go, my son, and bring the lion here." + Slowly the child advanced, and piped, and played, + While men and women held their breaths in fear. + + Sweetly he played, as though no horrid fate + Could ever harm his sunny little head. + He never paused, nor seemed to hesitate, + But went to do the thing his mother said. + + The lion hearkened to the sweet clear sound; + The anger vanished from his threatening eyes; + All motionless he crouched upon the ground + And listened to the silver melodies. + +[Illustration: The Little Lion Charmer.] + + The boy thus reached his side. The beast stirred not. + The child then backward walked, and played again, + Till, moving softly, slowly from the spot, + The lion followed the familiar strain. + + The cage is waiting--wide its opened door-- + And toward it, cautiously, the child retreats. + But see! The lion, restless grown once more, + Is lashing with his tail in angry beats. + + The boy, advancing, plays again the lay. + Again the beast, remembering the refrain, + Follows him on, until in this dread way + The cage is reached, and in it go the twain. + + At once the boy springs out, the door makes fast, + Then leaps with joy to reach his mother's side; + Her praise alone, of all that crowd so vast, + Has power to thrill his little heart with pride. + +HARRIET S. FLEMING. + + + + +THE BOY TO THE SCHOOLMASTER. + + + You've quizzed me often and puzzled me long, + You've asked me to cipher and spell, + You've called me a dunce if I answered wrong, + Or a dolt if I failed to tell + Just when to say _lie_ and when to say _lay_, + Or what nine sevens may make, + Or the longitude of Kamschatka Bay, + Or the I-forget-what's-its-name Lake, + So I think it's about _my_ turn, I do, + To ask a question or so of you. + + The schoolmaster grim, he opened his eyes, + But said not a word for sheer surprise. + + Can you tell what "phen-dubs" means? I can. + Can you say all off by heart + The "onery twoery ickery ann," + Or tell "alleys" and "commons" apart? + Can _you_ fling a top, I would like to know, + Till it hums like a bumble-bee? + Can you make a kite yourself that will go + 'Most as high as the eye can see, + Till it sails and soars like a hawk on the wing, + And the little birds come and light on its string? + + The schoolmaster looked oh! very demure, + But his mouth was twitching, I'm almost sure. + + Can you tell where the nest of the oriole swings, + Or the color its eggs may be? + Do you know the time when the squirrel brings + Its young from their nest in the tree? + Can you tell when the chestnuts are ready to drop + Or where the best hazel-nuts grow? + Can you climb a high tree to the very tip-top, + Then gaze without trembling below? + Can you swim and dive, can you jump and run, + Or do anything else we boys call fun? + + The master's voice trembled as he replied: + "You are right, my lad, I'm the dunce," he sighed. + +E.J. WHEELER. + +[Illustration: Little Mer-Folks.] + + + + +WON'T TAKE A BAFF. + + +[Illustration: ESCAPE.] + + To the brook in the green meadow dancing, + The tree-shaded, grass-bordered brook, + For a bath in its cool, limpid water, + Old Dinah the baby boy took. + + She drew off his cunning wee stockings, + Unbuttoned each dainty pink shoe, + Untied the white slip and small apron, + And loosened his petticoats, too. + + And while Master Blue Eyes undressing, + She told him in quaintest of words + Of the showers that came to the flowers, + Of the rills that were baths for the birds. + + And she said, "Dis yere sweetest of babies, + W'en he's washed, jess as hansum'll be + As any red, yaller or blue bird + Dat ebber singed up in a tree. + + "An' sweeter den rosies an' lilies, + Or wiolets eder, I guess--" + When away flew the mischievous darling, + In the scantiest kind of a dress. + + "Don't care if the birdies an' fowers," + He shouted, with clear, ringing laugh, + "Wash 'eir hands an' 'eir faces forebber + An' ebber, _me_ won't take a baff." + +MARGARET EYTINGE. + + + + +ONE WAY TO BE BRAVE. + +(_A TRUE STORY._) + + +"[[P]]apa," exclaimed six-year-old Marland, leaning against his +father's knee after listening to a true story, "I wish I could be as +brave as that!" + +"Perhaps you will be when you grow up." + +"But maybe I sha'n't ever be on a railroad train when there is going +to be an accident!" + +"Ah! but there are sure to be plenty of other ways for a brave man to +show himself." + +Several days after this, when Marland had quite forgotten about trying +to be brave, thinking, indeed, that he would have to wait anyway until +he was a man, he and his little playmate, Ada, a year younger, were +playing in the dog-kennel. It was a very large kennel, so that the two +children often crept into it to "play house." After awhile, Marland, +who, of course, was playing the papa of the house, was to go "down +town" to his business; he put his little head out of the door of the +kennel, and was just about to creep out, when right in front of him in +the path he saw a snake. He knew in a moment just what sort of a snake +it was, and how dangerous it was; he knew it was a rattlesnake, and +that if it bit Ada or him, they would probably die. For Marland had +spent two summers on his papa's big ranch in Kansas, and he had been +told over and over again, if he ever saw a snake to run away from it +as fast as he could, and this snake just in front of him was making +the queer little noise with the rattles at the end of his tail which +Marland had heard enough about to be able to recognize. + +[Illustration: THE LITTLE RANCHMAN. (From a photograph.)] + +Now you must know that a rattlesnake is not at all like a lion or a +bear, although just as dangerous in its own way. It will not chase +you; it can only spring a distance equal to its own length, and it +has to wait and coil itself up in a ring, sounding its warning all +the time, before it can strike at all. So if you are ever so little +distance from it when you see it first, you can easily escape from +it. The only danger is from stepping on it without seeing it. But +Marland's snake was already coiled, and it was hardly more than a foot +from the entrance to the kennel. You must know that the kennel was not +out in an open field, either, but under a piazza, and a lattice work +very near it left a very narrow passage for the children, even when +there wasn't any snake. If they had been standing upright, they could +have run, narrow as the way was; but they would have to crawl out of +the kennel and find room for their entire little bodies on the ground +before they could straighten themselves up and run. Fortunately, the +snake's head was turned the other way. + +"Ada," said Marland very quietly, so quietly that his grandpapa, +raking the gravel on the walk near by, did not hear, him, "there's +a snake out here, and it is a rattlesnake. Keep very still and crawl +right after me." + +"Yes, Ada," he whispered, as he succeeded in squirming himself out and +wriggling past the snake till he could stand upright. "_There's room_, +but you mustn't make any noise!" + +Five minutes later the two children sauntered slowly down the avenue, +hand in hand. + +"Grandpapa," said Marland, "there's a rattlesnake in there where Ada +and I were; perhaps you'd better kill him!" + +And when the snake had been killed, and papa for the hundredth time +had folded his little boy in his arms and murmured, "My brave boy! my +dear, brave little boy!" Marland looked up in surprise. + +"Why, it wasn't _I_ that killed the snake, papa! it was grandpapa! I +didn't do anything; I only kept very still and ran away!" + +But you see, in that case, keeping very still and running away was +just the bravest thing the little fellow could have done; and I +think his mamma--for I am his mamma, and so I know just how she did +feel--felt when she took him in her arms that night that in her little +boy's soul there was something of the stuff of which heroes are made. + +MRS. ALICE WELLINGTON ROLLINS. + + + + +THE MYSTERY OF SPRING. + + + Come, come, come, little Tiny, + Come, little doggie! We + Will "interview" all the blossoms + Down-dropt from the apple-tree; + We'll hie to the grove and question + Fresh grasses under the swing, + And learn if we can, dear Tiny, + Just what is the joy called Spring. + + Come, come, come, little Tiny; + Golden it is, I know: + Gold is the air around us, + The crocus is gold below; + Red as the golden sunset + Is robin's breast, on the wing-- + But, come, come, come, little Tiny, + This isn't the half of Spring. + + Spring's more than beautiful, Tiny; + Fragrant it is--for, see, + We catch the breath of the violets + However hidden they be; + And buds o'erhead in the greenwood + The sweetest of spices fling-- + Yet color and sweets together + Are still but a part of Spring. + + Then come, come, come, little Tiny, + Let's hear what _you_ have to tell + Learned of the years you've scampered + Over the hill and dell-- + What! Only a _bark_ for answer? + Now, Tiny, that isn't the thing + Will help unravel the riddle + Of wonderful, wonderful Spring. + + Yes, Tiny, there's something better + Than form and scent and hue, + In the grass with its emerald glory; + In the air's cerulean blue; + In the glow of the sweet arbutus; + In the daisy's perfect mould:-- + All these are delightful, Tiny, + But the secret's still untold. + + Oh, Tiny, _you'll_ never know it-- + For the mystery lies in this: + Just the fact of such warm uprising + From winter's chill abyss, + And the joy of our heart's upspringing + Whenever the Spring is born, + Because it repeats the story + Of the blessed Easter-morn! + +MRS. MARY B. DODGE. + + + + +[Illustration: ... THE LEAST LITTLE THING HATH MESSAGE SO WONDEROUS +AND TENDER.] + + +MIDSUMMER WORDS. + + + What can they want of a midsummer verse, + In the flush of the midsummer splendor? + For the Empress of Ind shall I pull out my purse + And offer a penny to lend her? + Who cares for a song when the birds are a-wing, + Or a fancy of words when the least little thing + Hath message so wondrous and tender? + + The trees are all plumed with their leafage superb, + And the rose and the lily are budding; + And wild, happy life, without hindrance or curb, + Through the woodland is creeping and scudding; + The clover is purple, the air is like mead, + With odor escaped from the opulent weed + And over the pasture-sides flooding. + + Every note is a tune, every breath is a boon; + 'Tis poem enough to be living; + Why fumble for phrase while magnificent June + Her matchless recital is giving? + Why not to the music and picturing come, + And just with the manifest marvel sit dumb + In silenced delight of receiving? + + Ah, listen! because the great Word of the Lord + That was born in the world to begin it, + Makes answering word in ourselves to accord, + And was put there on purpose to win it. + And the fulness would smother us, only for this: + We _can_ cry to each other, "How lovely it is! + And how blessed it is to be in it!" + +MRS. A. D. T. WHITNEY. + + + + +PAUL REVERE'S RIDE. + + + Listen, my children, and you shall hear + Of the midnight ride of Paul Revere, + On the eighteenth of April, in Seventy-Five: + Hardly a man is now alive + Who remembers that famous day and year. + + He said to his friend--"If the British march + By land or sea from the town to-night, + Hang a lantern aloft in the belfry-arch + Of the North-Church tower, as a signal-light-- + One if by land, and two if by sea; + And I on the opposite shore will be, + Ready to ride and spread the alarm + Through every Middlesex village and farm, + For the country-folk to be up and to arm." + +[Illustration] + + Then he said good-night, and with muffled oar + Silently rowed to the Charlestown shore, + Just as the moon rose over the bay, + Where swinging wide at her moorings lay + The Somerset, British man-of-war: + A phantom ship, with each mast and spar + Across the moon, like a prison-bar, + And a huge, black hulk, that was magnified + By its own reflection in the tide. + + Meanwhile, his friend, through alley and street + Wanders and watches with eager ears, + Till in the silence around him he hears + The muster of men at the barrack-door, + The sound of arms, and the tramp of feet, + And the measured tread of the grenadiers + Marching down to their boats on the shore. + + Then he climbed to the tower of the church, + Up the wooden stairs, with stealthy tread, + To the belfry-chamber overhead, + And startled the pigeons from their perch + On the sombre rafters, that round him made + Masses and moving shapes of shade-- + Up the light ladder, slender and tall, + To the highest window in the wall, + Where he paused to listen and look down + A moment on the roofs of the quiet town, + And the moonlight flowing over all. + + Beneath, in the church-yard lay the dead + In their night-encampment on the hill, + Wrapped in silence so deep and still, + That he could hear, like a sentinel's tread + The watchful night-wind as it went + Creeping along from tent to tent, + And seeming to whisper, "All is well!" + A moment only he feels the spell + Of the place and the hour, the secret dread + Of the lonely belfry and the dead; + For suddenly all his thoughts are bent + On a shadowy something far away, + Where the river widens to meet the bay-- + A line of black, that bends and floats + On the rising tide, like a bridge of boats. + + Meanwhile, impatient to mount and ride, + Booted and spurred with a heavy stride, + On the opposite shore walked Paul Revere. + Now he patted his horse's side, + Now gazed on the landscape far and near, + Then impetuous stamped the earth, + And turned and tightened his saddle-girth; + But mostly he watched with eager search + The belfry-tower of the old North Church, + As it rose above the graves on the hill, + Lonely, and spectral, and sombre, and still. + + And lo! as he looks, on the belfry's height, + A glimmer, and then a gleam of light! + He springs to the saddle, the bridle he turns, + But lingers and gazes, till full on his sight + A second lamp in the belfry burns. + + A hurry of hoofs in a village-street, + A shape in the moonlight, a bulk in the dark, + And beneath from the pebbles, in passing, a spark + Struck out by a steed that flies fearless and fleet: + That was all! And yet, through the gloom and the light, + The fate of a nation was riding that night; + And the spark struck out by that steed, in his flight, + Kindled the land into flame with its heat. + + It was twelve by the village-clock, + When he crossed the bridge into Medford town, + He heard the crowing of the cock, + And the barking of the farmer's dog, + And felt the damp of the river-fog, + That rises when the sun goes down. + + It was one by the village-clock, + When he rode into Lexington. + He saw the gilded weathercock + Swim in the moonlight as he passed, + And the meeting-house windows, blank and bare, + Gaze at him with a spectral glare, + As if they already stood aghast + At the bloody work they would look upon. + + It was two by the village-clock, + When he came to the bridge in Concord town. + He heard the bleating of the flock, + And the twitter of birds among the trees, + And felt the breath of the morning-breeze + Blowing over the meadows brown. + And one was safe and asleep in his bed, + Who at the bridge would be first to fall, + Who that day would be lying dead, + Pierced by a British musket-ball. + + You know the rest. In the books you have read + How the British regulars fired and fled-- + How the farmers gave them ball for ball, + From behind each fence and farmyard-wall, + Chasing the red-coats down the lane, + Then crossing the fields to emerge again + Under the trees at the turn of the road, + And only pausing to fire and load. + + So through the night rode Paul Revere; + And so through the night went his cry of alarm + To every Middlesex village and farm-- + A cry of defiance, and not of fear-- + A voice in the darkness, a knock at the door, + And a word that shall echo for evermore! + For, borne on the night-wind of the Past, + Through all our history, to the last, + In the hour of darkness, and peril, and need, + The people will waken and listen to hear + The hurrying hoof-beat of that steed, + And the midnight-message of Paul Revere. + +HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW. + + + + +TWO PERSIAN SCHOOLBOYS. + + +[Illustration] + +"Wake, Otanes, wake, the Magi are singing the morning hymn to Mithras. +Quick, or we shall be late at the exercises, and father promised, if +we did well, we should go to the chase with him to-day." + +"And perhaps shoot a lion. What a feather in our caps that would be! +Is it pleasant?" + +Smerdis pulled open the shutters that closed the windows, and the +first rays of the sun sparkled on the trees and fountains of a +beautiful garden beyond whose lofty walls appeared the dwellings and +towers of a mighty city. Already the low roar of its traffic reached +them while hurrying on their clothes to join their companions in the +spacious grounds where they were trained in wrestling, throwing blocks +of wood at each other to acquire agility in dodging the missiles, +the skilful use of the bow, and various other exercises for the +development of bodily strength and grace. + +A few minutes later the two brothers, Smerdis and Otanes, with scores +of other lads, ranging in age from seven to fourteen years, were +assembled in a vast playground, surrounded on all sides by a lofty +wall. + +The playground of a large boarding-school? + +It almost might be called so, but the pupils of this boarding-school +were educated free of expense to their parents, and it received +only the sons of the highest nobles in the land. This playground +was attached to the palace of Darius, King of Persia, who reigned +twenty-four hundred years ago, and these chosen boys had been taken +from their homes, as they reached the age of six years, to be reared +"at his gate," as the language of the country expressed it. + +Otanes and Smerdis were sons of one of the highest officers of the +court, the "ear of the king," or, as he would now be called, the +Minister of Police. Handsome little fellows of eleven and twelve, +with blue eyes, fair complexions, and curling yellow locks, their long +training in all sorts of physical exercises had made them stronger +and hardier than most lads of their age in our time. Though reared +in a palace, at one of the most splendid courts the world has ever +seen, the boys were expected to endure the hardships of the poorest +laborer's children. Instead of the gold and silver bedsteads used by +the nobles, they were obliged to sleep on the floor; if the court was +at Babylon, they were forced to make long marches under the burning +sun of Asia, and if, to escape the intense heat, the king removed +to his summer palaces at Ecbatana and Pasargadae, situated in the +mountainous regions of Persia, where it was often bitterly cold, the +boys were ordered to bathe in the icy water of the rivers flowing from +the heights. In place of the dainty dishes and sweetmeats for which +Persian cooks were famous, they were allowed nothing but bread, water, +and a little meat; sometimes to accustom them to hardships they were +deprived entirely of food for a day or even longer. + +[Illustration: THE BOYS HURRIED OFF TOWARD HOME.] + +On this morning the exercises seemed specially long to the two +brothers, full of anticipations of pleasure; but finally the last +block of wood was hurled, the last arrow shot, the last wrestling +match ended, and the boys, bearing a sealed roll of papyrus, +containing a leave of absence for one day, hurried off towards home. + +Their father's palace stood at no great distance from the royal +residence, on the long, wide street extending straight to the city +gates, and like the houses of all the Persian nobles, was surrounded +by a beautiful walled garden called a paradise, laid out with +flower-beds of roses, poppies, oleanders, ornamental plants, adorned +with fountains, and shaded by lofty trees. + +The hunting party was nearly ready to start, and the courtyard was +thronged. Servants rushed to and fro bearing shields, swords, lances, +bows and lassos, for a hunter was always equipped with bow and arrows, +two lances, a sword and a shield. Others held in leash the dogs to be +used in starting the game. + +The enormous preserves in the neighborhood of Babylon were well +stocked with animals, including stags, wild boars, and a few lions. +Several noblemen clad in the plain hunting costume always worn in the +chase, were already mounted, among them the father of the two lads, +who greeted them affectionately as they respectfully approached and +kissed his hand. + +"Make haste, boys, your horses are ready. Take only bows and +shields--the swords and lances will be in your way; you must not try +to deal with larger game than you can manage with your arrows." + +"May we not carry daggers in our belts, too, father?" cried Otanes +eagerly. "They can't be in our way, and if we should meet a lion--" + +A laugh from the group of nobles interrupted him. "Your son seeks +large game, Intaphernes!" exclaimed a handsome officer. "He must have +better weapons than a bow and dagger, if--" + +The rest of the sentence was drowned by the noise in the courtyard, +but as the party rode towards the gate Intaphernes looked back: "Yes, +take the daggers, it can do no harm. Keep with Candaules." + +The old slave, a gray-haired, but muscular man, with several other +attendants, joined the lads, and the long train passed out into the +street and toward the city gates. Otanes hastily whispered to his +brother: "Keep close by me, Smerdis; if only we catch sight of a lion, +we'll show what we can do with bows and arrows." + +The sun was now several hours high, and the streets, lined with tall +brick houses, were crowded with people--artisans, slaves, soldiers, +nobles and citizens, the latter clad in white linen shirts, gay +woollen tunics and short cloaks. Two-wheeled wooden vehicles, drawn by +horses decked with bells and tassels, litters containing veiled women +borne by slaves, and now and then, the superb gilded carriage, hung +with silk curtains, of some royal princess passed along. Here and +there a heavily laden camel moved slowly by, and the next instant a +soldier of the king's bodyguard dashed past in his superb uniform--a +gold cuirass, purple surcoat, and high Persian cap, the gold scabbard +of his sword and the gold apple on his lance-tip flashing in the sun. + +[Illustration: THE HUNTING PARTY WERE NEARLY READY TO START.] + +High above the topmost roofs of even the lofty towers on the walls +rose the great sanctuary of the Magi,[1] the immense Temple of Bel, +visible in all quarters of the city, and seen for miles from every +part of the flat plain on which Babylon stood. The huge staircase +wound like a serpent round and round the outside of the building to +the highest story, which contained the sanctuary itself and also the +observatory whence the priests studied the stars. + +[Footnote 1: The Magi were the Persian priests.] + +Otanes and Smerdis, chatting eagerly together, rode on as fast as +the crowd would permit, and soon reached one of the gates in the huge +walls that defended the city. These walls, seventy-five feet high, and +wide enough to allow two chariots to drive abreast, were strengthened +by two hundred and fifty towers, except on one side, where deep +marshes extended to their base. Beyond these marshes lay the +hunting-grounds, and the party, turning to the left, rode for a time +over a smooth highway, between broad tracts of land sown with wheat, +barley and sesame. Slender palm-trees covered with clusters of golden +dates were seen in every direction, and the sunbeams shimmered on the +canals and ditches which conducted water from the Euphrates to all +parts of the fields. + +Otanes' horse suddenly shied violently as a rider, mounted on a fleet +steed, and carrying a large pouch, dashed by like the wind. + +"One of the Augari bearing letters to the next station!" exclaimed +Smerdis. "See how he skims along. Hi! If I were not to be one of the +king's bodyguard, I'd try for an Augar's place. How he goes! He's +almost out of sight already." + +"How far apart are the stations?" asked Otanes. + +"Eighteen miles. And when he gets there, he'll just toss the letter +bag to the next man, who is sitting on a fresh horse waiting for it, +and away _he'll_ go like lightning. That's the way the news is carried +to the very end of the empire of our lord the King." + +"Must be fine fun," replied Otanes. "But see, there's the gate of the +hunting-park. Now for the lion," he added gayly. + +"May Ormuzd[2] save you from meeting one, my young master," said the +old servant, Candaules. "Luckily it's broad daylight, and they are +more apt to come from their lairs after dark. Better begin with +smaller game and leave the lion and wild boars to your father." + +[Footnote 2: The principal god of the Persians.] + +"Not if we catch sight of them," cried Otanes, settling his shield +more firmly on his arm, and urging his horse to a quicker pace, for +the head of the long train of attendants had already disappeared amid +the dark cypress-trees of the hunting park. The immense enclosure +stretching from the edge of the morasses that bordered the walls +of Babylon far into the country, soon echoed with the shouts of the +attendants beating the coverts for game, the baying of the dogs, the +hiss of lances and whir of arrows. Bright-hued birds, roused by +the tumult, flew wildly hither and thither, now and then the superb +plumage of a bird of paradise flashing like a jewel among the dense +foliage of cypress and nut-trees. + +Hour after hour sped swiftly away; the party had dispersed in +different directions, following the course of the game; the sun was +sinking low, and the slaves were bringing the slaughtered birds and +beasts to the wagons used to convey them home. A magnificent stag was +among the spoil, and a fierce wild boar, after a long struggle, had +fallen under a thrust from Intaphernes's lance. + +The shrill blast of the Median trumpet sounded thrice, to give the +first of the three signals for the scattered hunters to meet at the +appointed place, near the entrance of the park, and the two young +brothers who, attended by Candaules and half a dozen slaves, had +ridden far into the shady recesses of the woods, reluctantly turned +their horses' heads. No thought of disobeying the summons entered +their minds--Persian boys were taught that next to truth and +courage, obedience was the highest virtue, and rarely was a command +transgressed. + +They had had a good day's sport; few arrows remained in their quivers, +and the attendants carried bunches of gay plumaged birds and several +small animals, among them a pretty little fawn. "Let's go nearer the +marshes; there are not so many trees, and we can ride faster," said +Otanes as the trumpet-call was repeated, and the little party turned +in that direction, moving more swiftly as they passed out upon the +strip of open ground between the thicket and the marshes. The sun was +just setting. The last crimson rays, shimmering on the pools of water +standing here and there in the morasses, cast reflections on the tall +reeds and rushes bordering their margins. + +Suddenly a pretty spotted fawn darted in front of the group, and +crossing the open ground, vanished amid a thick clump of reeds. "What +a nice pet the little creature would make for our sister Hadassah!" +cried Otanes eagerly. "See! it has hidden among the reeds; we might +take it alive. Go with Candaules and the slaves, Smerdis, and form +a half-circle beyond the clump. When you're ready, whistle, and I'll +ride straight down and drive it towards you; you can easily catch it +then. We are so near the entrance of the park now that we shall have +plenty of time; the third signal hasn't sounded yet." + +Smerdis instantly agreed to the plan. The horses were fastened to some +trees, and the men cautiously made a wide circuit, passed the bed of +reeds, and concealed themselves, behind the tall rushes beyond. A low +whistle gave Otanes the signal to drive out the fawn. + +Smerdis and the slaves saw the lad straighten himself in the saddle, +and with a shout, dash at full speed towards the spot where the fawn +had vanished. He had almost reached it when the stiff stalks shook +violently, and a loud roar made them all spring to their feet. They +saw the brave boy check his horse and fit an arrow to the string, but +as he drew the bow, there was a stronger rustle among the reeds; a +tawny object flashed through the air, striking Otanes from his saddle, +while the horse free from its rider, dashed, snorting with terror, +towards the park entrance. + +"A lion! A lion!" shrieked the trembling slaves, but Smerdis, drawing +his dagger, ran towards the place where his brother had fallen, +passing close by the body of the fawn which lay among the reeds with +its head crushed by a blow from the lion's paw. Candaules followed +close at the lad's heels. + +Parting the thick growth of stalks, they saw, only a few paces off, +Otanes, covered with blood, lying motionless on the ground, and beside +him the dead body of a half-grown lion, the boy's arrow buried in +one eye, while the blood still streamed from the lance-wound in the +animal's side. + +Smerdis, weeping, threw himself beside his brother, and at the same +moment Intaphernes, with several nobles and attendants, attracted +by the cries, dashed up to the spot. The father, springing from the +saddle, bent, and laid his hand on the boy's heart. + +"It is beating still, and strongly too," he exclaimed. "Throw water in +his face! perhaps--" + +Without finishing the sentence, he carefully examined the motionless +form. "Ormuzd be praised! He has no wound; the blood has flowed from +the lion. See, Prexaspes, there is a lance-head sticking in its side. +I believe it's the very beast you wounded early in the day." + +The officer whose laugh had so vexed Otanes, stooped over the dead +lion and looked at the broken shaft. + +"Ay, it's my weapon; the beast probably made its way to the morass for +water; but, by Mithras![3] the lad's arrow killed the brute; the barb +passed through the eyeball into the brain." + +[Footnote 3: The Persian god of the sun.] + +"Yes, my lord," cried old Candaules eagerly, "and doubtless it was +only the weight of the animal, which, striking my young master as it +made its spring, hurled him from the saddle and stunned him. See! he +is opening his eyes. Otanes, Otanes, you've killed the lion!" + +The boy's eyelids fluttered, then slowly rose, his eyes wandered over +the group, and at last rested on the dead lion. The old slave's words +had evidently reached his ear, for with a faint smile he glanced +archly at Prexaspes, and raising himself on one elbow, said: + +"You see, my lord--even with a bow and dagger!" + +MARY J. SAFFORD. + + + + +DO YOU KNOW HIM? + + +[Illustration: COULDN'T BEAR TO BE LAUGHED AT.] + + There was once a small boy--he might measure four feet; + His conduct was perfectly splendid, + His manners were good, and his temper was sweet, + His teeth and his hair were uncommonly neat, + In fact he could not be amended. + + His smile was so bright, and his word was so kind, + His hand was so quick to assist it, + His wits were so clever, his air so refined, + There was something so nice in him, body and mind, + That you never could try to resist it. + + + + +THE WEAVER OF BRUGES. + + +[Illustration] + + The strange old streets of Bruges town + Lay white with dust and summer sun, + The tinkling goat bells slowly passed + At milking-time, ere day was done. + + An ancient weaver, at his loom, + With trembling hands his shuttle plied, + While roses grew beneath his touch, + And lovely hues were multiplied. + + The slant sun, through the open door, + Fell bright, and reddened warp and woof, + When with a cry of pain a little bird, + A nestling stork, from off the roof, + + Sore wounded, fluttered in and sat + Upon the old man's outstretched hand; + "Dear Lord," he murmured, under breath, + "Hast thou sent me this little friend?" + + And to his lonely heart he pressed + The little one, and vowed no harm + Should reach it there; so, day by day, + Caressed and sheltered by his arm, + + The young stork grew apace, and from + The loom's high beams looked down with eyes + Of silent love upon his ancient friend, + As two lone ones might sympathize. + + At last the loom was hushed: no more + The deftly handled shuttle flew; + No more the westering sunlight fell + Where blushing silken roses grew. + + And through the streets of Bruges town + By strange hands cared for, to his last + And lonely rest, 'neath darkening skies, + The ancient weaver slowly passed; + + Then strange sight met the gaze of all: + A great white stork, with wing-beats slow, + Too sad to leave the friend he loved, + With drooping head, flew circling low, + + And ere the trampling feet had left + The new-made mound, dropt slowly down, + And clasped the grave in his white wings + His pure breast on the earth so brown. + + Nor food, nor drink, could lure him thence, + Sunrise nor fading sunsets red; + When little children came to see, + The great white stork--was dead. + +M.M.P. DINSMOOR. + + + + +THE MAN IN THE TUB. + + + Come here, little folks, while I rub and I rub! + O, there once was a man who lived in a tub, + In a classical town far over the seas; + The name of this fellow was Diogenes. + + And this is the story: it happened one day + That a wonderful king came riding that way; + Said he, to the man in the tub, "How d'ye do? + I'm Great Alexander; now, pray, who are you?" + + O, yes, to be clean you must rub, you must rub! + Though he lived and he slept and ate in a tub, + This singular man, in towns where he halted, + History tells us was greatly exalted. + + He rose in his tub: "I am Diogenes." + "Dear me," quoth the king, who'd been over the seas, + "I've heard of you often; now, what can I do + To aid such a wise individual as you?" + + Could one expect manners, I ask, as I rub, + From a man quite content to live in a tub? + "Get out of my sunlight," growled Diogenes + To this affable king who'd been o'er the seas. + +MAY E. STONE. + + + + +THE LITTLE GOLD MINERS OF THE SIERRAS. + + +Their mother had died crossing the plains, and their father had had +a leg broken by a wagon wheel passing over it as they descended +the Sierras, and he was for a long time after reaching the mines +miserable, lame and poor. + +The eldest boy, Jim Keene, as I remember him, was a bright little +fellow, but wild as an Indian and full of mischief. The next eldest +child, Madge, was a girl of ten, her father's favorite, and she was +wild enough too. The youngest was Stumps. Poor, timid, starved Little +Stumps! I never knew his real name. But he was the baby, and hardly +yet out of petticoats. And he was very short in the legs, very short +in the body, very short in the arms and neck; and so he was called +Stumps because he looked it. In fact he seemed to have stopped +growing entirely. Oh, you don't know how hard the old Plains were on +everybody, when we crossed them in ox-wagons, and it took more than +half a year to make the journey. The little children, those that did +not die, turned brown like the Indians, in that long, dreadful journey +of seven months, and stopped growing for a time. + +For the first month or two after reaching the Sierras, old Mr. Keene +limped about among the mines trying to learn the mystery of finding +gold, and the art of digging. But at last, having grown strong enough, +he went to work for wages, to get bread for his half-wild little ones, +for they were destitute indeed. + +Things seemed to move on well, then. Madge cooked the simple meals, +and Little Stumps clung to her dress with his little pinched brown +hand wherever she went, while Jim whooped it over the hills and chased +jack-rabbits as if he were a greyhound. He would climb trees, too, +like a squirrel. And, oh!--it was deplorable--but how he could swear! + +At length some of the miners, seeing the boy must come to some bad +end if not taken care of, put their heads and their pockets together +and sent the children to school. This school was a mile away over +the beautiful brown hills, a long, pleasant walk under the green +California oaks. + +Well, Jim would take the little tin dinner bucket, and his slate, and +all their books under his arm and go booming ahead about half a mile +in advance, while Madge with brown Little Stumps clinging to her side +like a burr, would come stepping along the trail under the oak-trees +as fast as she could after him. + +But if a jack-rabbit, or a deer, or a fox crossed Jim's path, no +matter how late it was, or how the teacher had threatened him, he +would drop books, lunch, slate and all, and spitting on his hands and +rolling up his sleeves, would bound away after it, yelling like a +wild Indian. And some days, so fascinating was the chase, Jim did +not appear at the schoolhouse at all; and of course Madge and Stumps +played truant too. Sometimes a week together would pass and the +Keene children would not be seen at the schoolhouse. Visits from the +schoolmaster produced no lasting effect. The children would come for a +day or two, then be seen no more. The schoolmaster and their father at +last had a serious talk about the matter. + +"What _can_ I do with him?" said Mr. Keene. + +"You'll have to put him to work," said the schoolmaster. "Set him to +hunting nuggets instead of bird's-nests. I guess what the boy wants is +some honest means of using his strength. He's a good boy, Mr. Keene; +don't despair of him. Jim would be proud to be an 'honest miner.' +Jim's a good boy, Mr. Keene." + +"Well, then, thank you, Schoolmaster," said Mr. Keene. "Jim's a good +boy; and Madge is good, Mr. Schoolmaster; and poor starved and stunted +motherless Little Stumps, he is good as gold, Mr. Schoolmaster. And I +want to be a mother to 'em--I want to be father and mother to 'em all, +Mr. Schoolmaster. And I'll follow your advice. I'll put 'em all to +work a-huntin' for gold." + +The next day away up on the hillside under a pleasant oak, where +the air was sweet and cool, and the ground soft and dotted over with +flowers, the tender-hearted old man that wanted to be "father and +mother both," "located" a claim. The flowers were kept fresh by a +little stream of waste water from the ditch that girded the brow of +the hill above. Here he set a sluice-box and put his three little +miners at work with pick, pan and shovel. There he left them and +limped back to his own place in the mine below. + +And how they did work! And how pleasant it was here under the broad +boughs of the oak, with the water rippling through the sluice on the +soft, loose soil which they shoveled into the long sluice-box. They +could see the mule-trains going and coming, and the clouds of dust far +below which told them the stage was whirling up the valley. But Jim +kept steadily on at his work day after day. Even though jack-rabbits +and squirrels appeared on the very scene, he would not leave till, +like the rest of the honest miners, he could shoulder his pick and pan +and go down home with the setting sun. + +Sometimes the men who had tried to keep the children at school, would +come that way, and with a sly smile, talk very wisely about whether +or not the new miners would "strike it" under the cool oak among the +flowers on the hill. But Jim never stopped to talk much. He dug and +wrestled away, day after day, now up to his waist in the pit. + +One Saturday evening the old man limped up the hillside to help the +young miners "clean up." + +[Illustration: "COLOR! TWO COLORS! THREE, FOUR, FIVE--A DOZEN!"] + +He sat down at the head of the sluice-box and gave directions how they +should turn off the most of the water, wash down the "toilings" very +low, lift up the "riffle," brush down the "apron," and finally set the +pan in the lower end of the "sluice-toil" and pour in the quicksilver +to gather up and hold the gold. + +"What for you put your hand in de water for, papa?" queried Little +Stumps, who had left off his work, which consisted mainly of pulling +flowers and putting them in the sluice-box to see them float away. He +was sitting by his father's side, and he looked up in his face as he +spoke. + +"Hush, child," said the old man softly, as he again dipped his thumb +and finger in his vest pocket as if about to take snuff. But he did +not take snuff. Again his hand was reached down to the rippling water +at the head of the sluice-box. And this time curious but obedient +Little Stumps was silent. + +Suddenly there was a shout, such a shout from Jim as the hills had not +heard since he was a schoolboy. + +He had found the "color." "Two colors! three, four, five--a dozen!" +The boy shouted like a Modoc, threw down the brush and scraper, and +kissed his little sister over and over, and cried as he did so; then +he whispered softly to her as he again took up his brush and scraper, +that it was "for papa; all for poor papa; that he did not care for +himself, but he did want to help poor, tired, and crippled papa." But +papa did not seem to be excited so very much. + +The little miners were now continually wild with excitement. They +were up and at work Monday morning at dawn. The men who were in the +father's tender secret, congratulated the children heartily and made +them presents of several small nuggets to add to their little hoard. + +In this way they kept steadily at work for half the summer. All the +gold was given to papa to keep. Papa weighed it each week, and I +suppose secretly congratulated himself that he was getting back about +as much as he put in. + +Before quite the end of the third month, Jim struck a thin bed of blue +gravel. The miners who had been happily chuckling and laughing among +themselves to think how they had managed to keep Jim out of mischief, +began to look at each other and wonder how in the world blue gravel +ever got up there on the hill. And in a few days more there was a +well-defined bed of blue gravel, too; and not one of the miners could +make it out. + +One Saturday evening shortly after, as the old man weighed their gold +he caught his breath, started, and stood up straight; straighter than +he had stood since he crossed the Plains. Then he hastily left the +cabin. He went up the hill to the children's claim almost without +limping. Then he took a pencil and an old piece of a letter, and wrote +out a notice and tacked it up on the big oak-tree, claiming those +mining claims according to miners' law, for the three children. A +couple of miners laughed as they went by in the twilight, to see what +he was doing; and he laughed with them. But as he limped on down the +hill he smiled. + +That night as they sat at supper, he told the children that as they +had been such faithful and industrious miners, he was going to give +them each a present, besides a little gold to spend as they pleased. + +So he went up to the store and bought Jim a red shirt, long black and +bright gum boots, a broad-brimmed hat, and a belt. He also bought each +of the other children some pretty trappings, and gave each a dollar's +worth of gold dust. Madge and Stumps handed their gold back to "poor +papa." But Jim was crazy with excitement. He put on his new clothes +and went forth to spend his dollar. And what do you suppose he bought? +I hesitate to tell you. But what he bought was a pipe and a paper of +tobacco! + +That red shirt, that belt and broad-brimmed hat, together with the +shiny top boots, had been too much for Jim's balance. How could a +man--he spoke of himself as a man now--how could a man be an "honest +miner" and not smoke a pipe? + +And now with his manly clothes and his manly pipe he was to be so +happy! He had all that went to make up "the honest miner." True, he +did not let his father know about the pipe. He hid it under his pillow +at night. He meant to have his first smoke at the sluice-box, as a +miner should. + +Monday morning he was up with the sun and ready for his work. His +father, who worked down the Gulch, had already gone before the +children had finished their breakfast. So now Jim filled his bran-new +pipe very leisurely; and with as much calm unconcern as if he had been +smoking for forty years, he stopped to scratch a match on the door as +he went out. + +From under his broad hat he saw his little sister watching him, and +he fairly swelled with importance as Stumps looked up at him with +childish wonder. Leaving Madge to wash the few tin dishes and follow +as she could with Little Stumps, he started on up the hill, pipe in +mouth. + +He met several miners, but he puffed away like a tug-boat against the +tide, and went on. His bright new boots whetted and creaked together, +the warm wind lifted the broad brim of his _sombrero_, and his bright +new red shirt was really beautiful, with the green grass and oaks +for a background--and so this brave young man climbed the hill to his +mine. Ah, he was so happy! + +Suddenly, as he approached the claim, his knees began to smite +together, and he felt so weak he could hardly drag one foot after the +other. He threw down his pick; he began to tremble and spin around. +The world seemed to be turning over and over, and he trying in vain to +hold on to it. He jerked the pipe from his teeth, and throwing it down +on the bank, he tumbled down too, and clutching at the grass with both +hands tried hard, oh! so hard, to hold the world from slipping from +under him. + +"Oh, Jim! you are white as snow," cried Madge as she came up. + +"White as 'er sunshine, an' blue, an' green too, sisser. Look at +brurrer 'all colors,'" piped Little Stumps pitifully. + +"O, Jim, Jim--brother Jim, what is the matter?" sobbed Madge. + +"Sunstroke," murmured the young man, smiling grimly, like a true +Californian. "No; it is not sunstroke, it's--it's cholera," he added +in dismay over his falsehood. + +Poor boy! he was sorry for this second lie too. He fairly groaned in +agony of body and soul. + +Oh, how he did hate that pipe! How he did want to get up and jump on +it and smash it into a thousand pieces! But he could not get up or +turn around or move at all without betraying his unmanly secret. + +A couple of miners came up, but Jim feebly begged them to go. + +"Sunstroke," whispered the sister. + +"No; tolera," piped poor Little Stumps. + +"Get out! Leave me!" groaned the young red-shirted miner of the +Sierras. + +The biggest of the two miners bent over him a moment. + +"Yes; it's both," he muttered. "Cholera-nicotine-fantum!" Then he +looked at his partner and winked wickedly. Without a word, he took +the limp young miner up in his arms and bore him down the hill to his +father's cabin, while Stumps and Madge ran along at either side, and +tenderly and all the time kept asking what was good for "cholera." + +The other old "honest miner" lingered behind to pick up the baleful +pipe which he knew was somewhere there; and when the little party +was far enough down the hill, he took it up and buried it in his own +capacious pocket with a half-sorrowful laugh. "Poor little miner," he +sighed. + +"Don't ever swear any more, Windy," pleaded the boy to the miner who +had carried him down the hill, as he leaned over him, "and don't never +lie. I am going to die, Windy, and I should like to be good. Windy, it +_ain't_ sunstroke, it's" ... + +[Illustration: HE TOOK THE LIMP YOUNG MINER IN HIS ARMS.] + +"Hush yer mouth," growled Windy. "I know what 'tis! We've left it on +the hill." + +The boy turned his face to the wall. The conviction was strong upon +him that he was going to die, The world spun round now very, very fast +indeed. Finally, half-rising in bed, he called Little Stumps to his +side: + +"Stumps, dear, good Little Stumps, if I die don't you never try for to +smoke; for that's what's the matter with me. No, Stumps--dear little +brother Stumps--don't you never try for to go the whole of the 'honest +miner,' for it can't be did by a boy! We're nothing but boys, you and +I, Stumps--Little Stumps." + +He sank back in bed and Little Stumps and his sister cried and cried, +and kissed him and kissed him. + +The miners who had gathered around loved him now, every one, for +daring to tell the truth and take the shame of his folly so bravely. + +"I'm going to die, Windy," groaned the boy. + +Windy could stand no more of it. He took Jim's hand with a cheery +laugh. "Git well in half an hour," said he, "now that you've out with +the truth." + +And so he did. By the time his father came home he was sitting up; and +he ate breakfast the next morning as if nothing had happened. But he +never tried to smoke any more as long as he lived. And he never lied, +and he never swore any more. + +Oh, no! this Jim that I have been telling you of is "Moral Jim," of +the Sierras. The mine? Oh, I almost forgot. Well, that blue dirt was +the old bed of the stream, and it was ten times richer than where the +miners were all at work below. Struck it! I should say so! Ask any of +the old Sierras miners about "The Children's Claim," if you want to +hear just how rich they struck it. + +JOAQUIN MILLER. + + + + +OLD GODFREY'S RELIC. + + + A simple, upright man was he, + Of spirit undefiled, + Cheerful and hale at seventy-three, + As any blithesome child. + + Old Godfrey's friends and neighbors felt + His due was honest praise; + Ofttimes how fervently they dwelt + On his brave words and ways! + + He had no foeman in the land + Whose deeds or tongue would gall; + Of guileless heart, of liberal hand, + He smiled on one and all. + + But most, I think, he smiled on me; + "Your eyes, dear boy," he said, + "Remind me, though not mournfully, + Of eyes whose light is dead." + + How oft beneath his roof I've been + On eves of wintry blight, + And heard his magic violin + Make musical the night. + + No consort by his board was set, + No child his hearth had known, + Yet of all souls I've ever met, + His seemed the least alone. + +[Illustration: Keen Memories of the Thrilling Years That Thronged His +Ocean Life.] + + What stories in my eager ears + He poured of peace or strife; + Keen memories of the thrilling years + That thronged his ocean life. + + And oh, he showed such marvellous things + From unknown sea and shore, + That, brimmed with strange imaginings, + My boy's brain bubbled o'er! + + It wandered back o'er many a track + Of his old life-toil free; + The enchanted calm, the fiery wrack, + Far off, far off at sea! + + For once he dared the watery world, + O'er wild or halcyon waves, + And saw his snow-white sails unfurled + Above a million graves. + + Northward he went, thro' ice and sleet, + Where soon the sunbeams fail, + And followed with an armed fleet + The wide wake of the whale. + + Southward he went through airs serene + Of soft Sicilian noon, + And sang, on level decks, between + The twilight and the moon. + + But once--it was a tranquil time, + An evening half divine, + When the low breeze like murmurous rhyme + Sighed through the sunset fine. + + Once, Godfrey from the secret place + Wherein his treasures lay, + Brought forth, with calmly museful face, + This relic to the day-- + + A soft tress with a silken tie, + A brightly shimmering curl; + Such as might shadow goldenly + The fair brow of a girl. + + "Oh, lovelier," cried I, "than the dawn + Auroral mists enfold, + The long and luminous threadlets drawn + Through this rich curl of gold! + + "Tell, tell me, o'er whose graceful head + You saw the ringlet shine?" + Thereon the old man coolly said, + "_Why, lad, the tress is mine!_ + + "Look not amazed, but come with me, + And let me tell you where + And how, one morning fearfully, + I lost that lock of hair." + + He led me past his cottage screen + Of flowers, far down the wood + Where, towering o'er the landscape green, + A centuried oak-tree stood. + + "Here is the place," he said, "whereon + Heaven helped me in sore strait, + And in a March morn's radiance wan + Turned back the edge of fate! + + "My father a stout yeoman was, + And I, in childish pride, + That morning through the dew-drenched grass, + Walked gladly by his side, + + "Till _here_ he paused, with glittering steel, + A prostrate trunk to smite; + How the near woodland seemed to reel + Beneath his blows of might! + + "And round about me viciously + The splinters flashed and flew; + Some sharply grazed the shuddering eye, + Some pattered down the dew. + + "Childlike, I strove to pick them up, + But stumbling forward, sunk, + O'er the wild pea and buttercup, + Across the smitten trunk. + + "Just then, with all its ponderous force + The axe was hurtling down; + What spell could stay its savage course? + What charm could save my crown? + + "Too late, too late to stop the blow; + I shrieked to see it come; + My father's blood grew cold as snow; + My father's voice was dumb. + + "He staggered back a moment's space, + Glaring on earth and skies; + Blank horror in his haggard face, + Dazed anguish in his eyes. + + "He searched me close to find my wound; + He searched with sobbing breath; + But not the smallest gateway found + Opened to welcome death. + + "He thanked his God in ardent wise, + Kneeling 'twixt shine and shade; + Then lowered his still half-moistened eyes + O'er the keen axe's blade. + + "_Two hairs clung to it!_... thence, he turned + Where the huge log had rolled, + And there in tempered sunlight burned + A quivering curl of gold. + + "The small thing looked alive!... it stirred + By breeze and sunbeam kissed, + And fluttered like an Orient bird, + Half-glimpsed through sunrise mist. + + "Oh! keen and sheer the axe-edge smote + The perfect curl apart! + Even _now_, through tingling head and throat, + I feel the old terror dart. + + "My father kept his treasure long, + 'Mid seasons grave or gay, + Till to death's plaintive curfew-song, + Calmly he passed away. + + "I, too, the token still so fair, + Have held with tendance true; + And dying, this memorial hair + I'll leave, dear lad, to you!" + +PAUL H. HAYNE. + + + + +EVAN COGWELL'S ICE FORT. + + +In the early days of Northern Ohio, when settlers were few and far +between, Evan Cogswell, a Welsh lad of sixteen years, found his way +thither and began his career as a laborer, receiving at first but two +dollars a month in addition to his board and "home-made" clothing. He +possessed an intelligent, energetic mind in a sound and vigorous body, +and had acquired in his native parish the elements of an education in +both Welsh and English. + +The story of his life, outlined in a curious old diary containing +the records of sixty-two years, and an entry for more than twenty-two +thousand days, would constitute a history of the region, and some of +its passages would read like high-wrought romance. + +His first term of service was with a border farmer on the banks of a +stream called Grand River, in Ashtabula County. It was rather crude +farming, however, consisting mostly of felling trees, cutting wood and +saw-logs, burning brush, and digging out stumps, the axe and pick-axe +finding more use than ordinary farm implements. + +Seven miles down the river, and on the opposite bank, lived the +nearest neighbors, among them a blacksmith who in his trade served +the whole country for twenty miles around. One especial part of his +business was the repairing of axes, called in that day "jumping," or +"upsetting." + +In midwinter Evan's employer left a couple of axes with the blacksmith +for repairs, the job to be done within a week. At this time the +weather was what is termed "settled," with deep snow, and good +"slipping" along the few wildwood roads. + +But three or four days later, there came a "January thaw." Rain and a +warmer temperature melted away much of the snow, the little river was +swelled to a great torrent, breaking up the ice and carrying it down +stream, and the roads became almost impassable. When the week was up +and the farmer wanted the axes, it was not possible for the horse to +travel, and after waiting vainly for a day or two for a turn in the +weather, Evan was posted off on foot to obtain the needed implements. +Delighting in the change and excitement of such a trip, the boy +started before noon, expecting to reach home again ere dark, as it was +not considered quite safe to journey far by night on account of the +wolves. + +Three miles below, at a narrow place in the river, was the bridge, +consisting of three very long tree-trunks reaching parallel from bank +to bank, and covered with hewn plank. When Evan arrived here he found +that this bridge had been swept away. But pushing on down stream +among the thickets, about half a mile below, he came upon an immense +ice-jam, stretching across the stream and piled many feet high. Upon +this he at once resolved to make his way over to the road on the +other side, for he was already wearied threading the underbrush. Grand +River, which is a narrow but deep and violent stream, ran roaring +and plunging beneath the masses of ice as if enraged at being so +obstructed; but the lad picked his path in safety and soon stood on +the opposite bank. + +Away he hurried now to the blacksmith's, so as to complete his errand +and return by this precarious crossing before dark. + +But the smith had neglected his duty and Evan had to wait an hour or +more for the axes. At length they were done, and with one tied at each +end of a strong cord and this hung about his neck, he was off on the +homeward trip. To aid his walking, he procured from the thicket a +stout cane. He had hardly gone two miles when the duskiness gathering +in the woods denoted the nearness of night; yet as the moon was riding +high, he pushed on without fear. + +[Illustration: HOMEWARD. SAFELY INTRENCHED.] + +But as he was skirting a wind-fall of trees, he came suddenly upon two +or three wolves apparently emerging from their daytime hiding place +for a hunting expedition. Evan was considerably startled; but as +they ran off into the woods as if afraid of him, he took courage in +the hope that they would not molest him. In a few minutes, however, +they set up that dismal howling by which they summon their mates and +enlarge their numbers; and Evan discovered by the sounds that they +were following him cautiously at no great distance. + +Frequent responses were also heard from more distant points in the +woods and from across the river. By this time it was becoming quite +dark, the moonlight penetrating the forest only along the roadway +and in occasional patches among the trees on either side. The rushing +river was not far away, but above its roar arose every instant +the threatening howl of a wolf. Finally, just as he reached the +ice-bridge, the howling became still, a sign that their numbers +emboldened them to enter in earnest on the pursuit. The species +of wolf once so common in the central States, and making the early +farmers so much trouble, were peculiar in this respect; they were +great cowards singly, and would trail the heels of a traveler howling +for recruits, and not daring to begin the attack until they had +collected a force that insured success; then they became fierce and +bold, and more to be dreaded than any other animal of the wilderness. +And at this point, when they considered their numbers equal to the +occasion, the howling ceased. + +Evan had been told of this, and when the silence began, he knew its +meaning, and his heart shuddered at the prospect. His only hope lay +in the possibility that they might not dare to follow him across the +ice-bridge. But this hope vanished as he approached the other shore, +and saw by the moonlight several of the gaunt creatures awaiting +him on that side. What should he do? No doubt they would soon muster +boldness to follow him upon the ice, and then his fate would be sealed +in a moment. + +In the emergency he thought of the axes, and taking them from his +neck, cut the cord, and thrust his walking-stick into one as a helve, +resolved to defend himself to the last. + +At this instant he espied among the thick, upheaved ice-cakes two +great fragments leaning against each other in such a way as to form a +roof with something like a small room underneath. Here he saw his only +chance. Springing within, he used the axe to chip off other fragments +with which to close up the entrance, and almost quicker than it can +be told, had thus constructed a sort of fort, which he believed would +withstand the attack of the wolves. At nightfall the weather had +become colder, and he knew that in a few minutes the damp pieces of +ice would be firmly cemented together. + +Hardly had he lifted the last piece to its place, when the pack came +rushing about him, snapping and snarling, but at first not testing the +strength of his intrenchment. When soon they began to spring against +it, and snap at the corners of ice, the frost had done its work, and +they could not loosen his hastily built wall. + +Through narrow crevices he could look out at them, and at one time +counted sixteen grouped together in council. As the cold increased he +had to keep in motion in order not to freeze, and any extra action on +his part increased the fierceness of the wolves. At times they would +gather in a circle around him, and after sniffing at him eagerly, set +up a doleful howling, as if deploring the excellent supper they had +lost. + +Ere long one of them found an opening at a corner large enough to +admit its head; but Evan was on the alert, and gave it such a blow +with the axe as to cause its death. Soon another tried the same thing, +and met with the same reception, withdrawing and whirling around +several times, and then dropping dead with a broken skull. + +One smaller than the rest attempting to enter, and receiving the fatal +blow, crawled, in its dying agony, completely into the enclosure, and +lay dead at Evan's feet. Of this he was not sorry, as his feet were +bitterly cold, and the warm carcass of the animal served to relieve +them. + +In the course of the night six wolves were killed as they sought to +creep into his fortress, and several others so seriously hacked as +to send them to the woods again; and, however correct the notion that +when on the hunt they devour their fallen comrades, in this case they +did no such thing, as in the morning the six dead bodies lay about +on the ice, and Evan had the profitable privilege of taking off their +skins. + +Of his thoughts during the night, a quotation from his diary is +quaintly suggestive and characteristic. + +"I bethought me of the wars of Glendower, which I have read about, and +the battle of Grosmont Castle; and I said, 'I am Owen Glendower; +this is my castle; the wolves are the army of Henry; but I will never +surrender or yield as did Glendower.'" + +Toward morning, as the change of weather continued, and the waters of +the river began to diminish, there was suddenly a prodigious crack and +crash of the ice-bridge, and the whole mass settled several inches. +At this the wolves took alarm, and in an instant fled. Perhaps they +might have returned had not the crackling of the ice been repeated +frequently. + +At length Evan became alarmed for his safety, lest the ice should +break up in the current, and bringing his axe to bear, soon burst +his way out and fled to the shore. But not seeing the ice crumble, he +ventured back to obtain the other axe, and then hastened home to his +employer. + +During the day he skinned the wolves, and within a fortnight pocketed +the bounty money, amounting in all to about one hundred and fifty +dollars. With this money he made the first payment on a large farm, +which he long lived to cultivate and enjoy, and under the sod of which +he found a quiet grave. + +IRVING L. BEMAN. + + + + +HOW THEY BROUGHT THE GOOD NEWS FROM GHENT TO AIX. + + + I sprang to the stirrup, and Joris and he: + I galloped, Dirck galloped, we galloped all three; + "Good speed!" cried the watch as the gate-bolts undrew, + "Speed!" echoed the wall to us galloping through. + Behind shut the postern, the lights sank to rest, + And into the midnight we galloped abreast. + + Not a word to each other; we kept the great pace-- + Neck by neck, stride by stride, never changing our place; + I turned in my saddle and made its girths tight, + Then shortened each stirrup and set the pique right, + Rebuckled the check-strap, chained slacker the bit, + Nor galloped less steadily Roland a whit. + + 'Twas moonset at starting; but while we drew near + Lokeren, the cocks crew and twilight dawned clear; + At Boom a great yellow star came out to see; + At Dueffeld 'twas morning as plain as could be; + And from Mechlin church-steeple we heard the half-chime-- + So Joris broke silence with "Yet there is time!" + + At Aerschot up leaped of a sudden the sun, + And against him the cattle stood black every one, + To stare through the mist at us galloping past; + And I saw my stout galloper Roland at last + With resolute shoulders, each butting away + The haze, as some bluff river headland its spray; + + And his low head and crest, just one sharp ear bent back + For my voice, and the other pricked out on his track, + And one eye's black intelligence--ever that glance + O'er its white edge at me, his own master, askance; + And the thick heavy spume-flakes, which aye and anon + His fierce lips shook upwards in galloping on. + + By Hasselt, Dirck groaned; and cried Joris, "Stay spur! + Your Roos galloped bravely, the fault's not in her; + We'll remember at Aix"--for one heard the quick wheeze + Of her chest, saw the stretched neck and staggering knees, + And sunk tail, and horrible heave of the flank, + As down on her haunches she shuddered and sank. + + So we were left galloping, Joris and I, + Past Looz and past Tongres, no cloud in the sky; + The broad sun above laughed a pitiless laugh; + 'Neath our feet broke the brittle bright stubble like chaff; + Till over by Delhem a dome-spire sprung white, + And "Gallop," gasped Joris, "for Aix is in sight! + + "How they'll greet us!" and all in a moment his roan + Rolled neck and croup over, lay dead as a stone; + And there was my Roland to bear the whole weight + Of the news which alone could save Aix from her fate, + With his nostrils like pits full of blood to the brim, + And with circles of red for his eye-sockets' rim. + + Then I cast loose my buff-coat, each holster let fall, + Shook off both my jack-boots, let go belt and all, + Stood up in the stirrup, leaned, patted his ear, + Called my Roland his pet name, my horse without peer-- + Clapped my hands, laughed and sung, any noise, bad or good, + Till at length into Aix, Roland galloped and stood. + + And all I remember is friends flocking round, + As I sate with his head twixt my knees on the ground; + And no voice but was praising this Roland of mine + As I poured down his throat our last measure of wine, + Which (the burgesses voted by common consent) + Was no more than his due who brought good news from Ghent. + +ROBERT BROWNING. + + + + +A HERO. + +(_A STORY OF THE AMERICAN REVOLUTION._) + + +They were sitting by the great blazing wood-fire. It was July, but +there was an east wind and the night was chilly. Besides, Mrs. Heath +had a piece of fresh pork to roast. Squire Blake had "killed" the +day before--that was the term used to signify the slaughter of any +domestic animal for food--and had distributed the "fresh" to various +families in town, and Mrs. Heath wanted hers for the early breakfast. +Meat was the only thing to be had in plenty--meat and berries. Wheat +and corn, and vegetables even, were scarce. There had been a long +winter, and then, too, every family had sent early in the season all +they could possibly spare to the Continental army. As to sugar and tea +and molasses, it was many a day since they had had even the taste of +them. + +The piece of pork was suspended from the ceiling by a stout string, +and slowly revolved before the fire, Dorothy or Arthur giving it a +fresh start when it showed signs of stopping. There was a settle +at right angles with the fireplace, and here the little cooks sat, +Dorothy in the corner nearest the fire, and Arthur curled up on the +floor at her feet, where he could look up the chimney and see the +moon, almost at the full, drifting through the sky. At the opposite +corner sat Abram, the hired man and faithful keeper of the family in +the absence of its head, at work on an axe helve, while Bathsheba, or +"Basha," as she was briefly and affectionately called, was spinning in +one corner of the room just within range of the firelight. + +There was no other light--the firelight being sufficient for their +needs--and it was necessary to economize in candles, for any day a +raid from the royal army might take away both cattle and sheep, +and then where would the tallow come from for the annual fall +candle-making? There was a rumor--Abram had brought it home that very +day--that the royal army were advancing, and red coats might make +their appearance in Hartland at any time. Arthur and Dorothy were +talking about it, as they turned the roasting fork. + +"Wish I was a man," said Arthur, glancing towards his mother, who was +sitting in a low splint chair knitting stockings for her boy's winter +wear. "I'd like to shoot a red coat." + +"O Arty!" exclaimed Dorothy reproachfully; "you're always thinking of +shooting! Now _I_ should like to nurse a sick soldier and wait upon +him. Poor soldiers! it was dreadful what papa wrote to mamma about +them." + +"Would you nurse a red coat?" asked Arthur, indignantly. + +"Yes," said Dorothy. "Though of course I should rather, a great deal +rather, nurse one of our own soldiers. But, Arty," continued the +little elder sister, "papa says if we must fight, why, we must fight +bravely, but that we can be brave without fighting." + +"Well, I mean to be a hero, and heroes always fight. King Arthur +fought. Papa said so. He and his knights fought for the Sangreal, +and liberty is our Sangreal. I'm glad my name is Arthur, anyhow, for +Arthur means noble and high," he said, lifting his bright boyish face +with its steadfast blue eyes, and glancing again towards his mother. +She gave an answering smile. + +"I hope my boy will always be noble and high in thought and deed. But, +as papa said, to be a hero one does not need to fight, at least, not +to fight men. We can fight bad tempers and bad thoughts and cowardly +impulses. They who fight these things successfully are the truest +heroes, my boy." + +"Ah, but mamma, didn't I hear you tell grandmamma how you were proud +of your hero. That's what you called papa when General Montgomery +wrote to you, with his own hand, how he drove back the enemy at the +head of his men, while the balls were flying and the cannons roaring +and flashing; and when his horse was shot under him how he struggled +out and cheered on his men, on foot, and the bullets whizzed and the +men fell all around him, and he wasn't hurt and"--Here the boy stopped +abruptly and sprang impulsively forward, for his mother's cheek had +suddenly grown pale. + +"True grit!" remarked Abram to Basha, in an undertone, as she paused +in her walk to and fro by the spinning-wheel to join a broken thread. +"But there never was a coward yet, man or woman, 'mong the Heaths, +an' I've known 'em off an' on these seventy year. Now there was ole +Gineral Heath," he continued, holding up the axe helve and viewing it +critically with one eye shut, "he was a marster hand for fightin'. Fit +the Injuns 's though he liked it. That gun up there was his'n." + +"Tell us about the 'sassy one,'" said Arthur, turning at the word gun. + +"Youngster, 'f I've told yer that story once, I've told yer fifty +times," said Abram. + +"Tell it again," said the boy eagerly. "And take down the gun, too." + +Abram got up as briskly as his seventy years and his rheumatism would +permit, and took down the gun from above the mantel-piece. It was a +very large one. + +"Not quite so tall as the old Gineral himself," said Abram, "but a +purty near to it. This gun is 'bout seven feet, an' yer gran'ther was +seven feet two--a powerful built man. Wall, the Injuns had been mighty +obstreperous 'long 'bout that time, burnin' the Widder Brown's house +and her an' her baby a-hidin' in a holler tree near by, an' carryin' +off critters an' bosses, an' that day yer gran'ther was after 'em with +a posse o' men, an' what did that pesky Injun do but git up on a rock +a quarter o' a mile off an' jestickerlate in an outrigerous manner, +like a sarcy boy, an' yer grand'ther, he took aim and fired, an' that +impident Injun jest tumbel over with a yell; his last, mind ye, and +good enough for him!" + +"I like to hear about old gran'ther," said Arthur. + +As Abram was restoring the gun to its place upon the hooks, a sound +was heard at the side door--a sound as of a heavy body falling against +it, which startled them all. The dog Caesar rose, and going to the door +which opened into the side entry, sniffed along the crack above the +threshold. Apparently satisfied, he barked softly, and rising on his +hind legs lifted the latch and sprang into the entry. Abram followed +with Basha. As he lifted the latch of the outer door--the string had +been drawn in early, as was the custom in those troublous time--and +swung it back, the light from the fire fell upon the figure of a man +lying across the doorstone. + +"Sakes alive!" exclaimed Abram, drawing back. But at a word from the +mistress, they lifted the man and brought him in and laid him down on +the braided woollen mat before the fire. Then for a moment there was +silence, for he wore the dress of a British soldier, and his right arm +was bandaged. He had fainted from loss of blood, apparently--perhaps +from hunger. Basha loosened his coat at the throat, and tried to force +a drop or two of "spirits" into his mouth, while Mrs. Heath rubbed his +hands. + +"He ain't dead," said Basha, in a grim tone, "and mind you, we'll +see trouble from this." Basha was an arrant rebel, and hated the +very sight of a red coat. "What are you doing here," she continued, +addressing him, "killin' honest folks, when you'd better 've staid +cross seas in yer own country?" + +"Basha!" said Mrs. Heath reprovingly, "he is helpless." + +But Basha as she unwound the tight bandage from the shattered arm, +kept muttering to herself like a rising tempest, until at length the +man having come quite to himself, detected her feeling, and with great +effort said, "I am _not_ a British soldier." + +"Then what to goodness have you got on their uniform for?" queried +Basha. + +Little by little the pitiful story was told. He was an American +soldier who had been doing duty as a spy in the British camp. Up to +the very last day of his stay he had not been suspected; but trying to +get away he was suspected, challenged, and fired at. The shot passed +through his arm. He was certain his pursuers had followed him till +night, and they would be likely to continue the search the next day, +and he begged Mrs. Heath to secrete him for a day or two, if possible. + +"I wouldn't mind being shot, marm," he said, "but you know they'll +hang me if they get me. Of course I risked it when I went into their +camp, but it's none the pleasanter for all that." + +Now in the old Heath house there was a secret chamber, built in the +side of the chimney. Most of those old colonial houses had enormous +chimneys, that took up, sometimes, a quarter of the ground occupied +by the house, so it was not a difficult thing to enclose a small +space with slight danger of its existence being detected. This chimney +chamber in the Heath house was little more than a closet eight feet by +four. It was entered from the north chamber, Abram's room, through a +narrow sliding panel that looked exactly like the rest of the wall, +which was of cedar boards. An inch-wide shaft running up the side +of the chimney ventilated the closet, and it was lighted by a window +consisting of three small panes of glass carefully concealed under the +projecting roof. In a sunny day one could see to read there easily. + +A small cot-bed was now carried into this room, and up there, after +his wound had been dressed by Basha, who, like many old-time women, +was skilful in dressing wounds and learned in the properties of herbs +and roots, and he had been fed and bathed, the soldier was taken; and +a very grateful man he was as he settled himself upon the comfortable +bed and looked up with a smiling "thank you," into Basha's face, which +was no longer grim and forbidding. + +All this time no special notice had been taken of Dorothy and Arthur. +They had followed about to watch the bathing, feeding and tending, +and when Mrs. Heath turned to leave the secret chamber, she found +them behind her, staring in with very wide-open eyes indeed; for, if +you can believe it, they never before had even heard of, much less +seen, this lovely little secret chamber. It was never deemed wise in +colonial families to talk about these hiding-places, which sometimes +served so good a purpose, and I doubt if many adults in the town of +Hartland knew of this secret chamber in the Heath house. + +The panel was closed, and Abram was left to care for the wounded +soldier through the night. It was nine o'clock, the colonial hour for +going to bed, and long past the children's hour, and Dotty and Arthur +in their prayers by their mother's knee, put up a petition for the +safety of the stranger. + +"_Would_ they hang him if they could get him, mamma?" asked Arty. + +"Certainly," she replied. "It is one of the rules of warfare. A spy is +always hung." + +In the morning, from nine to eleven, Mrs. Heath always devoted to the +children's lessons. Arthur, who was eleven, was a good Latin scholar. +He was reading _Caesar's Commentaries_, and he liked it--that is, he +liked the story part. He found some of it pretty tough reading, and +I need not tell you boys who have read Caesar, what parts those were. +They had English readings from the _Spectator_, and from Bishop +Leighton's works, books which you know but little about. Dotty had +a daily lesson in botany, and very pleasant hours those school hours +were. + +After dinner, at twelve, they had the afternoon for play. That +afternoon, the day after the soldier came, they went berrying. They +did this almost every day during berry time, so as to have what they +liked better than anything for supper--berries and milk. Occasionally +they had huckleberry "slap-jacks," also a favorite dish, for +breakfast; not often, however, as flour was scarce. + +They went for berries down the road known as South Lane, a lonely +place, but where berries grew plentifully. Their mother had cautioned +them not to talk about the occurrence of the night before, as some one +might overhear, and so, though they talked about their play and their +studies, about papa and his soldiers, they said nothing about _the_ +soldier. + +[Illustration: "Tell Me, My Little Man," Said He, "Where You Saw the +British Uniform."] + +They had nearly filled their baskets, when a growl from Caesar startled +them, and turning, they saw two horsemen who had stopped near by, +one of whom was just springing from his horse. They were in British +uniform, and the children at once were sure what they wanted. + +"O Arty, Arty!" whispered Dorothy. "They've come, and we mustn't +tell." + +The man advanced with a smile meant to be pleasant, but which was in +reality so sinister that the children shrank with a sensation of fear. + +"How are you, my little man? Picking berries, eh? And where do you +live?" he asked. + +"With mamma," answered Arthur promptly. + +"And who is mamma? What is her name?" + +"Mrs. Heath," said Arty. + +"And don't you live with papa too? Where is papa?" the man asked. + +Arthur hesitated an instant, and then out it came, and proudly too. +"In the Continental army, sir." + +"Ho! ho! and so we are a little rebel, are we?" laughed the man. "And +who am I? Do you know?" + +"Yes, sir; a British soldier." + +"How do you know that?" + +"Because you wear their uniform, sir?" + +"You cannot have seen many British soldiers here," said the man. "Did +you ever see the British uniform before?" + +"Yes, sir," replied Arty. + +"And where did you see it?" he asked, glancing sharply at Arthur and +then at Dorothy. Upon the face of the latter was a look of dismay, for +she had foreseen the drift of the man's questions and the trap into +which Arty had fallen. He, too, saw it, now he was in. The only +British uniform he had ever seen was that worn by the American spy. +For a brief moment he was tempted to tell a lie. Then he said firmly, +"I cannot tell you, sir." + +"Cannot! Does that mean will not?" said the man threateningly. Then +he put his hand into his pocket and took out a bright gold sovereign, +which he held before Arthur. + +"Come, now, my little man, tell me where you saw the British soldier's +uniform, and you shall have this gold piece." + +But all the noble impulses of the boy's nature, inherited and +strengthened by his mother's teachings, revolted at this attempt to +bribe him. His eyes flashed. He looked the man full in the face. "I +will not!" said he. + +"Come, come!" cried out the man on horseback. "Don't palter any longer +with the little rebel. We'll find a way to make him tell. Up with +him!" + +In an instant the man had swung Arthur into his saddle, and leaping up +behind him, struck spurs to his horse and dashed away. Caesar, who had +been sniffing about, suspicious, but uncertain, attempted to leap upon +the horseman in the rear, but he, drawing his pistol from his saddle, +fired, and Caesar dropped helpless. + +The horsemen quickly vanished, and for a moment Dorothy stood pale and +speechless. Then she knelt down by Caesar, examined his wound--he was +shot in the leg--and bound it up with her handkerchief, just as she +saw Basha do the night before, and then putting her arms around his +neck she kissed him. "Be patient, dear old Caesar, and Abram shall come +for you!" + +Covered with dust, her frock stained with Caesar's blood, a pitiful +sight indeed was Dorothy as she burst into the kitchen where Basha was +preparing supper. + +"O mamma, they've carried off Arty and shot Caesar, those dreadful, +dreadful British!" + +Between her sobs she told the whole fearful story to the two +women--fearful, I say, for Mrs. Heath knew too well the reputed +character of the British soldiery, not to fear the worst if her boy +should persist in refusing to tell where he had seen the British +soldier's uniform. But even in her distress she was conscious of a +proud faith that he would not betray his trust. + +As to Basha, who shall describe her horror and indignation? "The +wretches! ain't they content to murder our men and burn our houses, +that they must take our innercent little boys?" and she struck the +spit into the chicken she was preparing for supper vindictively, as +though thus she would like to treat the whole British army. "The dear +little cretur! what'll he do to-night without his mamma, and him never +away from her a night in his blessed life. 'Pears to me the Lord's +forgot the Colonies. O dearie, dearie me!" utterly overcome she +dropped into a chair, and throwing her homespun check apron over +her head, she gave way to such a fit of weeping as astonished and +perplexed Abram, one of whose principal articles of faith it was that +Basha couldn't shed a tear, even if she tried, "more'n if she's made +o' cast iron." + +It indeed looked hopeless. Who was to follow after these men and +rescue Arthur? There was hardly any one left in town but old men, +women and children. + +Mrs. Heath thought of this as she soothed Dorothy, coaxed her to eat a +little supper, and then sat by her side until she fell asleep. She sat +by the fire while the embers died out, or walked up and down the long, +lonely kitchen, wrestling, like Jacob, in prayer, for her boy, until +long after midnight. + +And now let us follow Arthur's fortunes. The men galloped hard and +long over hills, through valleys and woods, so far away it seemed +to the little fellow he could never possibly see mamma or Dorothy +again. At last they drew up at a large white house, evidently the +headquarters of the officers, and Arthur was put at once into a dark +closet and there left. He was tired and dreadfully hungry, so hungry +that he could think of hardly anything else. He heard the rattling of +china and glasses, and knew they were at supper. By and by a servant +came and took him into the supper room. His eyes were so dazzled at +first by the change from the dark closet to the well-lighted room, +that he could scarcely see. But when the daze cleared he found himself +standing near the head of the table, where sat a stout man with a red +face, a fierce mustache, and an evil pair of eyes. + +He looked at Arthur a moment. Then he poured out a glass of wine and +pushed it towards him: "Drink!" + +But Arthur did not touch the glass. + +"Drink, I say," he repeated impatiently. "Do you hear?" + +"I have promised mamma never to drink wine," was the low response. + +It seemed to poor Arthur as though everything had combined against +him. It was bad enough to have to say no to the question about the +uniform, and now here was something else that would make the men still +more angry with him. But the officer did not push his command; he +simply thrust the glass one side and said, "Now, my boy, we're going +to get that American spy and hang him. You know where he is and you've +got to tell us, or it will be the worse for you. Do you want to see +your mother again?" + +Arthur did not answer. He could not have answered just then. A big +bunch came into his throat. Cry? Not before these men. So he kept +silence. + +"Obstinate little pig! speak!" thundered the officer, bringing his +great brawny fist down upon the table with a blow that set the glasses +dancing. "Will you tell me where that spy is?" + +"No, sir," came in very low, but very firm tones. I will not tell +you the dreadful words of that officer, as he turned to his servant +with the command, "Put him down cellar, and we'll see to him in the +morning. They're all alike, men, women and children. Rebellion in the +very blood. The only way to finish it is to spill it without mercy." + +Now there was one thing that Arthur, brave as he was, feared, and that +was--rats! Left on a heap of dry straw, he began to wonder if there +were rats there. Presently he was sure he heard something move, but +he was quickly reassured by the touch of soft, warm fur on his hand, +and the sound of a melodious "pur-r." The friendly kitty, glad of a +companion, curled herself by his side. What comfort she brought to +the lonely little fellow! He lay down beside her, and saying his _Our +Father_, and _Now I Lay Me_, was soon in a profound sleep, the purring +little kitty nestling close. + +The sounds of revelry in the rooms above did not disturb him. The +boisterous songs and laughter, the stamping of many feet, continued +far into the night. At last they ceased; and when everything had been +for a long time silent, the door leading to the cellar was softly +opened and a lady came down the stairway. I have often wished that +I might paint her as she looked coming down those stairs. Arthur was +afterwards my great-grandfather, you know, and he told me this story +when I was a young girl in my teens. He told me how lovely this lady +was. + +Her gown was of some rich stuff that shimmered in the light of the +candle she carried, and rustled musically as she walked. There was +a flash of jewels at her throat and on her hands. She had wrapped a +crimson mantle about her head and shoulders. Her eyes were like stars +on a summer's night, sparkling with a veiled radiance, and as she +stood and looked down upon the sleeping boy, a smile, sweet, but full +of a profound sadness, played upon her lips. Then a determined look +came into her bright eyes. + +He stirred in his sleep, laughed out, said "mamma," and then opened +his eyes. She stooped and touched his lips with her finger. "Hush! +Speak only in a whisper. Eat this, and then I will take you to your +mother." + +After he had eaten, she wrapped a cloak about him, and together they +stole up and out past the sleeping, drunken sentinel, to the stables. +She lead out a white horse, her own horse, Arthur was sure, for the +creature caressed her with his head, and as she saddled him she talked +to him in low tones, sweet, musical words of some foreign tongue. The +handsome horse seemed to understand the necessity of silence, for +he did not even whinny to the touch of his mistress' hand, and trod +daintily and noiselessly as she led him to the mounting block, his +small ears pricking forward and backward, as though knowing the need +of watchful listening. + +Leaping to the saddle and stooping, she lifted Arthur in front of her, +and with a word they were off. A slow walk at first, and then a rapid +canter. Arthur never forgot that long night ride with the beautiful +lady on the white horse, over the country flooded with the brilliancy +of the full moon. Once or twice she asked him if he was cold, as she +drew the cloak more closely about him, and sometimes she would murmur +softly to herself words in that silvery, foreign tongue. As they drew +near Hartland, she asked him to point out his father's house, and +when they were quite near, only a little distance off, she stopped the +horse. + +"I leave you here, you brave, darling boy," she said. "Kiss me once, +and then jump down. And don't forget me." + +Arthur threw his arms around her neck and kissed her, first on one +cheek and then on the other, and looking up into the beautiful face +with its starry eyes, said: + +"I will never, never forget you, for you are the loveliest lady I ever +saw--except mamma." + +She laughed a pleased laugh, like a child, then took a ring from her +hand and put it on one of Arthur's fingers. Her hand was so slender it +fitted his chubby little hand very well. + +"Keep this," she said, "and by and by give it to some lady good and +true, like mamma." + +"Will you be punished?" he said, keeping her hand. She laughed again, +with a proud, daring toss of her dainty head, and rode away. + +Arthur watched her out of sight, and then turned towards home. Mrs. +Heath was still keeping her lonely watch, when the latch of the outer +door was softly lifted--nobody had the heart to take in the string +with Arty outside--the inner door swung noiselessly back, and the +blithe voice said, "Mamma! mamma! here I am, and I didn't tell." + +All that day, and the next, and the next, the Heath household were in +momentary expectation of the coming of the red coats to search for the +spy. Dorothy and Arthur, and sometimes Abram, did picket duty to give +seasonable warning of their approach. But they never came. In a few +days news was brought that the British forces, on the very morning +after Arthur's return, had made a rapid retreat before an advance of +the Federal troops, and never again was a red coat seen in Hartland. +The spy got well in great peace and comfort under Basha's nursing, and +went back again to do service in the Continental army, and Dotty used +to say, "You did learn, didn't you, Arty, how a person, even a little +boy, can be a hero without fighting, just as mamma said?" + + + + +[Illustration: Teddy the Teazer, A Moral Story with a Velocipede +Attachment, by M.E.B.] + +TEDDY THE TEAZER + +A MORAL STORY WITH A VELOCIPEDE ATTACHMENT + + + He wanted a velocipede, + And shook his saucy head; + He thought of it in daytime, + He dreamed of it in bed, + He begged for it at morning, + He cried for it at noon, + And even in the evening + He sang the same old tune. + + He wanted a velocipede! + It was no use to say + He was too small to manage it, + Or it might run away, + Or crack his little occiput, + Or break his little leg-- + It made no bit of difference, + He'd beg, and beg, and beg. + + He wanted a velocipede, + A big one with a gong + To startle all the people, + As they saw him speed along; + A big one, with a cushion, + And painted red and black, + To make the others jealous + And clear them off the track. + + He wanted a velocipede, + The largest ever built, + Though he was only five years old + And wore a little kilt, + And hair in curls a-waving, + And sashes by his side, + And collars wide as cart-wheels, + Which hurt his manly pride! + + He wanted a velocipede + With springs of burnished steel; + He knew the way to work it-- + The treadle for the wheel, + The brake to turn and twist it, + The crank to make it stop, + My! hadn't he been riding + For days, with Jimmy Top? + + He wanted a velocipede! + Why, he was just as tall + As six-year-old Tom Tucker, + Who wasn't very small! + And feel his muscle, will you? + And tell him, if you dare, + That he's the sort of fellow + To get a fall, or scare? + + They got him a velocipede; + I really do not know + How they could ever do it, + But then, he teased them so, + And so abused their patience, + And dulled their nerves of right, + That they just lost their senses + And brought it home one night. + + They bought him a velocipede-- + O woe the day and hour! + When proudly seated on it, + In pomp of pride and power, + His foot upon the treadle, + With motion staid and slow + He turned upon his axle, + And made the big thing go. + + Alas, for the velocipede! + The way ran down a hill-- + The whirling wheels went faster, + And fast, and faster still, + Until, like flash of rocket, + Or shooting star at night, + They crossed the dim horizon + And rattled out of sight. + + So vanished the velocipede, + With him who rode thereon; + And no one, since that dreadful day, + Has found out where 'tis gone! + Except a floating rumor + Which some stray wind doth blow. + When the long nights of winter + Are white with frost and snow, + Of a small fleeting shadow, + That seems to run astray + Upon a pair of flying wheels, + Along the Milky Way. + + And this they think is Teddy! + Doomed for all time to speed-- + A wretched little phantom boy, + On a velocipede! + +M.E.B. + +[Illustration] + + + + +JOJO'S PETITION. + + + Golden-haired Jojo, at his mother's knee, + Nestles each night his baby prayer to say: + "Bless papa and mamma! make Ned and me + Good little boys!" he has been taught to pray. + + Grandmamma was very sick one weary day, + And Jojo shared with us our anxious care; + So the dear child, when he knelt down to pray, + Seemed to think Grandma must be in his prayer. + + And sure the dear Lord did not fail to hear + Sharer alike of sorrows and of joys-- + When he said, "Bless papa and my mamma dear, + And make me an' Gran'ma an' Neddy good boys!" + +RUTH HALL. + + + +***END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK OUR BOYS*** + + +******* This file should be named 16171.txt or 16171.zip ******* + + +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: +https://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/1/6/1/7/16171 + + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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