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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 |
| commit | c4fe852eecc67fac35639ead5c06d892844e60d8 (patch) | |
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diff --git a/16171-h/16171-h.htm b/16171-h/16171-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..8016643 --- /dev/null +++ b/16171-h/16171-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,5514 @@ +<!DOCTYPE html PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Transitional//EN" + "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-transitional.dtd"> +<html> +<head> +<meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html; charset=ISO-8859-1" /> +<title>The Project Gutenberg eBook of Our Boys, by Various</title> + <style type="text/css"> + <!-- + body {margin-left: 9%; margin-right: 9%;} + p {text-align: justify;} + blockquote {text-align: justify;} + h1,h2,h3,h4 {text-align: center;} + pre {font-size: 0.7em;} + .sc {font-variant: small-caps;} + + hr {text-align: center; width: 50%;} + html>body hr {margin-right: 25%; margin-left: 25%; width: 50%;} + hr.full {width: 100%;} + html>body hr.full {margin-right: 0%; margin-left: 0%; width: 100%;} + + .note + {margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%; font-size: 0.9em;} + + span.pagenum + {position: absolute; left: 1%; right: 91%; font-size: 8pt; text-indent: 0;} + + .poem + {margin-left:8%; margin-right:8%; margin-bottom: 1em; text-align: left;} + .poem .stanza {margin: 1em 0em 1em 0em;} + .poem p {margin: 0; padding-left: 3em; text-indent: -3em;} + .poem p.i2 {margin-left: 1em;} + .poem p.i4 {margin-left: 2em;} + .poem p.i6 {margin-left: 3em;} + .poem p.i8 {margin-left: 4em;} + .poem p.i10 {margin-left: 5em;} + + .figure, .figcenter, .figright, .figleft + {padding: 1em; margin: 0; text-align: center; font-size: 0.8em;} + .figure img, .figcenter img, .figright img, .figleft img + {border: none;} + .figure p, .figcenter p, .figright p, .figleft p + {margin: 0; text-indent: 1em;} + .figcenter {margin: auto;} + .figright {float: right;} + .figleft {float: left;} + + .footnote {font-size: 0.9em; margin-right: 10%; margin-left: 10%;} + + p.author {text-align: right; margin-right:10%;} + --> + </style> +</head> +<body> +<h1>The Project Gutenberg eBook, Our Boys, by Various</h1> +<pre> +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 <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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