initial commit of ebook 16171HEADmain

1 files changed, 5088 insertions, 0 deletions

diff --git a/16171.txt b/16171.txt
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..ebf2bb7
--- /dev/null
+++ b/16171.txt
@@ -0,0 +1,5088 @@
+The Project Gutenberg eBook, Our Boys, by Various
+
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
+
+
+
+
+
+Title: Our Boys
+       Entertaining Stories by Popular Authors
+
+
+Author: Various
+
+
+
+Release Date: July 1, 2005  [eBook #16171]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ISO-646-US (US-ASCII)
+
+
+***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK OUR BOYS***
+
+
+E-text prepared by Marilynda Fraser-Cunliffe, William Flis, and the
+Project Gutenberg Online Distributed Proofreading Team
+(https://www.pgdp.net)
+
+
+
+Note: Project Gutenberg also has an HTML version of this
+      file which includes the original illustrations.
+      See 16171-h.htm or 16171-h.zip:
+      (https://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/1/6/1/7/16171/16171-h/16171-h.htm)
+      or
+      (https://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/1/6/1/7/16171/16171-h.zip)
+
+
+
+
+
+OUR BOYS
+
+Entertaining Stories by Popular Authors
+
+by
+
+GEORGE CARY EGGLESTON, MARY E. WILKINS, FRANCES A. HUMPHREY, MARGARET
+EYTINGE, MRS. A. D. T. WHITNEY, MARY D. BRINE, ETC., ETC., ETC.
+
+Profusely Illustrated
+
+The Saalfield Publishing Company, Akron, Ohio
+
+1904
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+[Illustration]
+
+
+
+[Illustration]
+
+
+
+[Illustration]
+
+
+
+
+THE CAT-TAIL ARROW
+
+BY CLARA DOTY BATES
+
+
+  Little Sammie made a bow,
+    Well indeed he loved to whittle,
+  Shaped it like the half of O--
+  How he could I scarcely know,
+    For his fingers were so little.
+  As he whittled came a sigh:
+    "If I only had an arrow;
+  Something light enough to fly
+  To the tree-tops or the sky!
+    Then I'd have such fun tomorrow."
+
+  Then he thought of all the slim
+    Things that grow--the hazel bushes,
+  Willow branches, poplars trim--
+  And yet nothing suited him
+    Till he chanced to think of rushes.
+  He knew well a quiet pool
+    Where he always paused a minute
+  On his way to district school,
+  Just to see the waters cool
+    And his own bright face within it.
+
+  There the cat-tails thickly grew,
+    With their heads so brown and furry;
+  They were straight and slender too,
+  Plenty strong enough he knew,
+    And he sought them in a hurry.
+  Such an arrow as he wrought--
+    Almost passed a boy's believing.
+  When he drew the bow-string taut,
+  Out of sight and quick as thought
+    Up it went, the blue air cleaving.
+
+  Who was Sammie, would you know?
+    It was grandpa--he was little
+  Nearly eighty years ago;
+  But 'tis no doubt as fine a bow
+    As the best he still could whittle.
+
+
+
+
+[Illustration: A YOUNG SALT]
+
+HE COULDN'T SAY NO.
+
+
+    [[I]]t was sad and it was strange!
+      He just was full of knowledge,
+    His studies swept the whole broad range
+      Of High School and of College;
+    He read in Greek and Latin too,
+      Loud Sanscrit he could utter,
+        But one small thing he couldn't do
+        That comes as pat to me and you
+      As eating bread and butter:
+  He couldn't say "No!" He couldn't say "No!"
+  I'm sorry to say it was really so!
+  He'd diddle, and dawdle, and stutter, but oh!
+  When it came to the point he could never say "No!"
+
+        Geometry he knew by rote,
+          Like any Harvard Proctor;
+        He'd sing a fugue out, note by note;
+          Knew Physics like a Doctor;
+        He spoke in German and in French;
+          Knew each Botanic table;
+            But one small word that you'll agree
+            Comes pat enough to you and me,
+          To speak he was not able:
+  For he couldn't say "No!" He couldn't say "No!"
+  'Tis dreadful, of course, but 'twas really so.
+  He'd diddle, and dawdle, and stutter, but oh!
+  When it came to the point he could never say "No!"
+
+        And he could fence, and swim, and float,
+          And use the gloves with ease too,
+        Could play base ball, and row a boat,
+          And hang on a trapeze too;
+        His temper was beyond rebuke,
+          And nothing made him lose it;
+            His strength was something quite superb,
+            But what's the use of having nerve
+          If one can never use it?
+  He couldn't say "No!" He couldn't say "No!"
+  If one asked him to come, if one asked him to go,
+  He'd diddle, and dawdle, and stutter, but oh!
+  When it came to the point he could never say "No!"
+
+        When he was but a little lad,
+          In life's small ways progressing,
+        He fell into this habit bad
+          Of always acquiescing;
+        'Twas such an amiable trait,
+          To friend as well as stranger,
+            That half unconsciously at last
+            The custom held him hard and fast
+          Before he knew the danger,
+  And he couldn't say "No!" He couldn't say "No!"
+  To his prospects you see 'twas a terrible blow.
+  He'd diddle, and dawdle, and stutter, but oh!
+  When it came to the point he could never say "No!"
+
+        And so for all his weary days
+          The best of chances failed him;
+        He lived in strange and troublous ways
+          And never knew what ailed him;
+        He'd go to skate when ice was thin;
+          He'd join in deeds unlawful,
+            He'd lend his name to worthless notes,
+            He'd speculate in stocks and oats;
+          'Twas positively awful,
+  For he couldn't say "No!" He couldn't say "No!"
+  He would veer like a weather-cock turning so slow;
+  He'd diddle, and dawdle, and stutter, but oh!
+  When it came to the point he could never say "No!"
+
+        Then boys and girls who hear my song,
+          Pray heed its theme alarming:
+        Be good, be wise, be kind, be strong--
+          These traits are always charming,
+        But all your learning, all your skill
+          With well-trained brain and muscle,
+            Might just as well be left alone,
+            If you can't cultivate backbone
+          To help you in life's tussle,
+  And learn to say "No!" Yes, learn to say "No!"
+  Or you'll fall from the heights to the rapids below!
+  You may waver, and falter, and tremble, but oh!
+  When your conscience requires it, be sure and shout "No!"
+
+M.E.B.
+
+
+
+
+[Illustration: Going into the Chapel.]
+
+THE CHRISTMAS MONKS.
+
+
+All children have wondered unceasingly from their very first Christmas
+up to their very last Christmas, where the Christmas presents come
+from. It is very easy to say that Santa Claus brought them. All well
+regulated people know that, of course; about the reindeer, and the
+sledge, and the pack crammed with toys, the chimney, and all the rest
+of it--that is all true, of course, and everybody knows about it; but
+that is not the question which puzzles. What children want to know is,
+where do these Christmas presents come from in the first place? Where
+does Santa Claus get them? Well, the answer to that is, _In the garden
+of the Christmas Monks_. This has not been known until very lately;
+that is, it has not been known till very lately except in the
+immediate vicinity of the Christmas Monks. There, of course, it has
+been known for ages. It is rather an out-of-the-way place; and that
+accounts for our never hearing of it before.
+
+The Convent of the Christmas Monks is a most charmingly picturesque
+pile of old buildings; there are towers and turrets, and peaked roofs
+and arches, and everything which could possibly be thought of the
+architectural line, to make a convent picturesque. It is built
+of graystone; but it is only once in a while that you can see the
+graystone, for the walls are almost completely covered with mistletoe
+and ivy and evergreen. There are the most delicious little arched
+windows with diamond panes peeping out from the mistletoe and
+evergreen, and always at all times of the year, a little Christmas
+wreath of ivy and holly-berries is suspended in the centre of every
+window. Over all the doors, which are likewise arched, are Christmas
+garlands, and over the main entrance _Merry Christmas_ in evergreen
+letters.
+
+The Christmas Monks are a jolly brethren; the robes of their order
+are white, gilded with green garlands, and they never are seen out at
+any time of the year without Christmas wreaths on their heads. Every
+morning they file in a long procession into the chapel to sing a
+Christmas carol; and every evening they ring a Christmas chime on the
+convent bells. They eat roast turkey and plum pudding and mince-pie
+for dinner all the year round; and always carry what is left in
+baskets trimmed with evergreen to the poor people. There are always
+wax candles lighted and set in every window of the convent at
+nightfall; and when the people in the country about get uncommonly
+blue and down-hearted, they always go for a cure to look at the
+Convent of the Christmas Monks after the candles are lighted and the
+chimes are ringing. It brings to mind things which never fail to cheer
+them.
+
+But the principal thing about the Convent of the Christmas Monks is
+the garden; for that is where the Christmas presents grow. This garden
+extends over a large number of acres, and is divided into different
+departments, just as we divide our flower and vegetable gardens;
+one bed for onions, one for cabbages, and one for phlox, and one for
+verbenas, etc.
+
+Every spring the Christmas Monks go out to sow the Christmas-present
+seeds after they have ploughed the ground and made it all ready.
+
+There is one enormous bed devoted to rocking-horses. The rocking-horse
+seed is curious enough; just little bits of rocking-horses so small
+that they can only be seen through a very, very powerful microscope.
+The Monks drop these at quite a distance from each other, so that they
+will not interfere while growing; then they cover them up neatly with
+earth, and put up a sign-post with "Rocking-horses" on it in evergreen
+letters. Just so with the penny-trumpet seed, and the toy-furniture
+seed, the skate-seed, the sled-seed, and all the others.
+
+Perhaps the prettiest, and most interesting part of the garden, is
+that devoted to wax dolls. There are other beds for the commoner
+dolls--for the rag dolls, and the china dolls, and the rubber dolls,
+but of course wax dolls would look much handsomer growing. Wax dolls
+have to be planted quite early in the season; for they need a good
+start before the sun is very high. The seeds are the loveliest bits
+of microscopic dolls imaginable. The Monks sow them pretty close
+together, and they begin to come up by the middle of May. There is
+first just a little glimmer of gold, or flaxen, or black, or brown, as
+the case may be, above the soil. Then the snowy foreheads appear, and
+the blue eyes, and the black eyes, and, later on, all those enchanting
+little heads are out of the ground, and are nodding and winking and
+smiling to each other the whole extent of the field; with their pinky
+cheeks and sparkling eyes and curly hair there is nothing so pretty as
+these little wax doll heads peeping out of the earth. Gradually, more
+and more of them come to light, and finally by Christmas they are all
+ready to gather. There they stand, swaying to and fro, and dancing
+lightly on their slender feet which are connected with the ground,
+each by a tiny green stem; their dresses of pink, or blue, or
+white--for their dresses grow with them--flutter in the air. Just
+about the prettiest sight in the world is the bed of wax dolls in the
+garden of the Christmas Monks at Christmas time. Of course ever since
+this convent and garden were established (and that was so long ago
+that the wisest man can find no books about it) their glories have
+attracted a vast deal of admiration and curiosity from the young
+people in the surrounding country; but as the garden is enclosed on
+all sides by an immensely thick and high hedge, which no boy could
+climb, or peep over, they could only judge of the garden by the fruits
+which were parceled out to them on Christmas-day.
+
+You can judge, then, of the sensation among the young folks, and older
+ones, for that matter, when one evening there appeared hung upon a
+conspicuous place in the garden-hedge, a broad strip of white cloth
+trimmed with evergreen and printed with the following notice in
+evergreen letters:
+
+"WANTED--By the Christmas Monks, two _good_ boys to assist in garden
+work. Applicants will be examined by Fathers Anselmus and Ambrose, in
+the convent refectory, on April 10th."
+
+This notice was hung out about five o'clock in the evening, some time
+in the early part of February. By noon the street was so full of boys
+staring at it with their mouths wide open, so as to see better, that
+the king was obliged to send his bodyguard before him to clear the
+way with brooms, when he wanted to pass on his way from his chamber of
+state to his palace.
+
+There was not a boy in the country but looked upon this position as
+the height of human felicity. To work all the year in that wonderful
+garden, and see those wonderful things growing! and without doubt any
+body who worked there could have all the toys he wanted, just as a boy
+who works in a candy-shop always has all the candy he wants!
+
+But the great difficulty, of course, was about the degree of goodness
+requisite to pass the examination. The boys in this country were no
+worse than the boys in other countries, but there were not many of
+them that would not have done a little differently if he had only
+known beforehand of the advertisement of the Christmas Monks. However,
+they made the most of the time remaining, and were so good all over
+the kingdom that a very millennium seemed dawning. The school teachers
+used their ferrules for fire wood, and the king ordered all the birch
+trees cut down and exported, as he thought there would be no more call
+for them in his own realm.
+
+[Illustration: The boys read the notice.]
+
+When the time for the examination drew near, there were two boys whom
+every one thought would obtain the situation, although some of the
+other boys had lingering hopes for themselves; if only the Monks would
+examine them on the last six weeks, they thought they might pass.
+Still all the older people had decided in their minds that the Monks
+would choose these two boys. One was the Prince, the king's oldest
+son; and the other was a poor boy named Peter. The Prince was no
+better than the other boys; indeed, to tell the truth, he was not so
+good; in fact, was the biggest rogue in the whole country; but all
+the lords and the ladies, and all the people who admired the lords and
+ladies, said it was their solemn belief that the Prince was the best
+boy in the whole kingdom; and they were prepared to give in their
+testimony, one and all, to that effect to the Christmas Monks.
+
+Peter was really and truly such a good boy that there was no excuse
+for saying he was not. His father and mother were poor people; and
+Peter worked every minute out of school hours to help them along.
+Then he had a sweet little crippled sister whom he was never tired of
+caring for. Then, too, he contrived to find time to do lots of little
+kindnesses for other people. He always studied his lessons faithfully,
+and never ran away from school. Peter was such a good boy, and so
+modest and unsuspicious that he was good, that everybody loved him. He
+had not the least idea that he could get the place with the Christmas
+Monks, but the Prince was sure of it.
+
+When the examination day came all the boys from far and near, with
+their hair neatly brushed and parted, and dressed in their best
+clothes, flocked into the convent. Many of their relatives and friends
+went with them to witness the examination.
+
+The refectory of the convent, where they assembled, was a very large
+hall with a delicious smell of roast turkey and plum pudding in it.
+All the little boys sniffed, and their mouths watered.
+
+The two fathers who were to examine the boys were perched up in a
+high pulpit so profusely trimmed with evergreen that it looked like a
+bird's nest; they were remarkably pleasant-looking men, and their eyes
+twinkled merrily under their Christmas wreaths. Father Anselmus was
+a little the taller of the two, and Father Ambrose was a little the
+broader; and that was about all the difference between them in looks.
+
+[Illustration: The Prince & Peter are examined by the Monks.]
+
+The little boys all stood up in a row, their friends stationed
+themselves in good places, and the examination began.
+
+Then if one had been placed beside the entrance to the convent, he
+would have seen one after another, a crestfallen little boy with his
+arm lifted up and crooked, and his face hidden in it, come out and
+walk forlornly away. He had failed to pass.
+
+The two fathers found out that this boy had robbed birds' nests,
+and this one stolen apples. And one after another they walked
+disconsolately away till there were only two boys left: the Prince and
+Peter.
+
+"Now, your Highness," said Father Anselmus, who always took the lead
+in the questions, "are you a good boy?"
+
+"O holy Father!" exclaimed all the people--there were a good many fine
+folks from the court present. "He is such a good boy! such a wonderful
+boy! We never knew him to do a wrong thing in his sweet life."
+
+"I don't suppose he ever robbed a bird's nest?" said Father Ambrose a
+little doubtfully.
+
+"No, no!" chorused the people.
+
+"Nor tormented a kitten?"
+
+"No, no, no!" cried they all.
+
+At last everybody being so confident that here could be no reasonable
+fault found with the Prince, he was pronounced competent to enter upon
+the Monks' service. Peter they knew a great deal about before--indeed,
+a glance at his face was enough to satisfy any one of his goodness;
+for he did look more like one of the boy angels in the altar-piece
+than anything else. So after a few questions, they accepted him also;
+and the people went home and left the two boys with the Christmas
+Monks.
+
+The next morning Peter was obliged to lay aside his homespun coat,
+and the Prince his velvet tunic, and both were dressed in some little
+white robes with evergreen girdles like the Monks. Then the Prince
+was set to sowing Noah's ark seed, and Peter picture-book seed. Up
+and down they went scattering the seed. Peter sang a little psalm
+to himself, but the Prince grumbled because they had not given him
+gold-watch or gem seed to plant instead of the toy which he had
+outgrown long ago. By noon Peter had planted all his picture-books,
+and fastened up the card to mark them on the pole; but the Prince had
+dawdled so his work was not half done.
+
+"We are going to have a trial with this boy," said the Monks to each
+other; "we shall have to set him a penance at once, or we cannot
+manage him at all."
+
+So the Prince had to go without his dinner, and kneel on dried peas in
+the chapel all the afternoon. The next day he finished his Noah's Arks
+meekly; but the next day he rebelled again and had to go the whole
+length of the field where they planted jewsharps, on his knees. And so
+it was about every other day for the whole year.
+
+One of the brothers had to be set apart in a meditating cell to invent
+new penances; for they had used up all on their list before the Prince
+had been with them three months.
+
+The Prince became dreadfully tired of his convent life, and if
+he could have brought it about would have run away. Peter, on the
+contrary, had never been so happy in his life. He worked like a bee,
+and the pleasure he took in seeing the lovely things he had planted
+come up, was unbounded, and the Christmas carols and chimes delighted
+his soul. Then, too, he had never fared so well in his life. He could
+never remember the time before when he had been a whole week without
+being hungry. He sent his wages every month to his parents; and he
+never ceased to wonder at the discontent of the Prince.
+
+"They grow so slow," the Prince would say, wrinkling up his handsome
+forehead. "I expected to have a bushelful of new toys every month; and
+not one have I had yet. And these stingy old Monks say I can only have
+my usual Christmas share anyway, nor can I pick them out myself. I
+never saw such a stupid place to stay in my life. I want to have my
+velvet tunic on and go home to the palace and ride on my white pony
+with the silver tail, and hear them all tell me how charming I am."
+Then the Prince would crook his arm and put his head on it and cry.
+
+Peter pitied him, and tried to comfort him, but it was not of much
+use, for the Prince got angry because he was not discontented as well
+as himself.
+
+Two weeks before Christmas everything in the garden was nearly ready
+to be picked. Some few things needed a little more December sun, but
+everything looked perfect. Some of the Jack-in-the-boxes would not
+pop out quite quick enough, and some of the jumping-Jacks were hardly
+as limber as they might be as yet; that was all. As it was so near
+Christmas the Monks were engaged in their holy exercises in the chapel
+for the greater part of the time, and only went over the garden once a
+day to see if everything was all right.
+
+The Prince and Peter were obliged to be there all the time. There was
+plenty of work for them to do; for once in a while something would
+blow over, and then there were the penny-trumpets to keep in tune; and
+that was a vast sight of work.
+
+One morning the Prince was at one end of the garden straightening up
+some wooden soldiers which had toppled over, and Peter was in the wax
+doll bed dusting the dolls. All of a sudden he heard a sweet little
+voice: "O, Peter!" He thought at first one of the dolls was talking,
+but they could not say anything but papa and mamma; and had the merest
+apologies for voices anyway. "Here I am, Peter!" and there was a
+little pull at his sleeve. There was his little sister. She was not
+any taller than the dolls around her, and looked uncommonly like the
+prettiest, pinkest-cheeked, yellowest-haired ones; so it was no wonder
+that Peter did not see her at first. She stood there poising herself
+on her crutches, poor little thing, and smiling lovingly up at Peter.
+
+"Oh, you darling!" cried Peter, catching her up in his arms. "How did
+you get in here?"
+
+"I stole in behind one of the Monks," said she. "I saw him going up
+the street past our house, and I ran out and kept behind him all the
+way. When he opened the gate I whisked in too, and then I followed him
+into the garden. I've been here with the dollies ever since."
+
+"Well," said poor Peter, "I don't see what I am going to do with you,
+now you are here. I can't let you out again; and I don't know what the
+Monks will say."
+
+"Oh, I know!" cried the little girl gayly. "I'll stay out here in
+the garden. I can sleep in one of those beautiful dolls' cradles over
+there; and you can bring me something to eat."
+
+[Illustration: The boys at work in the Convent Garden.]
+
+"But the Monks come out every morning to look over the garden, and
+they'll be sure to find you," said her brother, anxiously.
+
+"No, I'll hide! O Peter, here is a place where there isn't any doll!"
+
+"Yes; that doll did not come up."
+
+"Well, I'll tell you what I'll do! I'll just stand here in this place
+where the doll didn't come up, and nobody can tell the difference."
+
+"Well, I don't know but you can do that," said Peter, although he was
+still ill at ease. He was so good a boy he was very much afraid of
+doing wrong, and offending his kind friends the Monks; at the same
+time he could not help being glad to see his dear little sister.
+
+He smuggled some food out to her, and she played merrily about him all
+day; and at night he tucked her into one of the dolls' cradles with
+lace pillows and quilt of rose-colored silk.
+
+The next morning when the Monks were going the rounds, the father who
+inspected the wax doll bed was a bit nearsighted, and he never noticed
+the difference between the dolls and Peter's little sister, who swung
+herself on her crutches, and looked just as much like a wax doll as
+she possibly could. So the two were delighted with the success of
+their plan.
+
+They went on thus for a few days, and Peter could not help being happy
+with his darling little sister, although at the same time he could not
+help worrying for fear he was doing wrong.
+
+Something else happened now, which made him worry still more;
+the Prince ran away. He had been watching for a long time for an
+opportunity to possess himself of a certain long ladder made of
+twisted evergreen ropes, which the Monks kept locked up in the
+toolhouse. Lately, by some oversight, the toolhouse had been left
+unlocked one day, and the Prince got the ladder. It was the latter
+part of the afternoon, and the Christmas Monks were all in the chapel
+practicing Christmas carols. The Prince found a very large hamper,
+and picked as many Christmas presents for himself as he could stuff
+into it; then he put the ladder against the high gate in front of
+the convent, and climbed up, dragging the hamper after him. When he
+reached the top of the gate, which was quite broad, he sat down to
+rest for a moment before pulling the ladder up so as to drop it on the
+other side.
+
+He gave his feet a little triumphant kick as he looked back at his
+prison, and down slid the evergreen ladder! The Prince lost his
+balance, and would inevitably have broken his neck if he had not clung
+desperately to the hamper which hung over on the convent side of the
+fence; and as it was just the same weight as the Prince, it kept him
+suspended on the other.
+
+He screamed with all the force of his royal lungs; was heard by a
+party of noblemen who were galloping up the street; was rescued, and
+carried in state to the palace. But he was obliged to drop the hamper
+of presents, for with it all the ingenuity of the noblemen could not
+rescue him as speedily as it was necessary they should.
+
+When the good Monks discovered the escape of the Prince they were
+greatly grieved, for they had tried their best to do well by him; and
+poor Peter could with difficulty be comforted. He had been very fond
+of the Prince, although the latter had done little except torment him
+for the whole year; but Peter had a way of being fond of folks.
+
+A few days after the Prince ran away, and the day before the one on
+which the Christmas presents were to be gathered, the nearsighted
+father went out into the wax doll field again; but this time he had
+his spectacles on, and could see just as well as any one, and even
+a little better. Peter's little sister was swinging herself on her
+crutches, in the place where the wax doll did not come up, tipping her
+little face up, and smiling just like the dolls around her.
+
+"Why, what is this!" said the father. "_Hoc credam!_ I thought that
+wax doll did not come up. Can my eyes deceive me? _non verum est!_
+There is a doll there--and what a doll! on crutches, and in poor,
+homely gear!"
+
+Then the nearsighted father put out his hand toward Peter's little
+sister. She jumped--she could not help it, and the holy father jumped
+too; the Christmas wreath actually tumbled off his head.
+
+"It is a miracle!" exclaimed he when he could speak; "the little girl
+is alive! _parra puella viva est._ I will pick her and take her to the
+brethren, and we will pay her the honors she is entitled to."
+
+Then the good father put on his Christmas wreath, for he dare not
+venture before his abbot without it, picked up Peter's little sister,
+who was trembling in all her little bones, and carried her into the
+chapel, where the Monks were just assembling to sing another carol.
+He went right up to the Christmas abbot, who was seated in a splendid
+chair, and looked like a king.
+
+"Most holy abbot," said the nearsighted father, holding out Peter's
+little sister, "behold a miracle, _vide miraculum_! Thou wilt remember
+that there was one wax doll planted which did not come up. Behold, in
+her place I have found this doll on crutches, which is--alive!"
+
+"Let me see her!" said the abbot; and all the other Monks crowded
+around, opening their mouths just like the little boys around the
+notice, in order to see better.
+
+"_Verum est_," said the abbot. "It is verily a miracle."
+
+"Rather a lame miracle," said the brother who had charge of the funny
+picture-books and the toy monkeys; they rather threw his mind off
+its level of sobriety, and he was apt to make frivolous speeches
+unbecoming a monk.
+
+The abbot gave him a reproving glance, and the brother, who was the
+leach of the convent, came forward. "Let me look at the miracle, most
+holy abbot," said he. He took up Peter's sister, and looked carefully
+at the small, twisted ankle. "I think I can cure this with my herbs
+and simples," said he.
+
+"But I don't know," said the abbot doubtfully. "I never heard of
+curing a miracle."
+
+"If it is not lawful, my humble power will not suffice to cure it,"
+said the father who was the leach.
+
+"True," said the abbot; "take her, then, and exercise thy healing art
+upon her, and we will go on with our Christmas devotions, for which we
+should now feel all the more zeal."
+
+So the father took away Peter's little sister, who was still too
+frightened to speak.
+
+The Christmas Monk was a wonderful doctor, for by Christmas eve
+the little girl was completely cured of her lameness. This may seem
+incredible, but it was owing in great part to the herbs and simples,
+which are of a species that our doctors have no knowledge of; and also
+to a wonderful lotion which has never been advertised on our fences.
+
+Peter of course heard the talk about the miracle, and knew at once
+what it meant. He was almost heartbroken to think he was deceiving the
+Monks so, but at the same time he did not dare to confess the truth
+for fear they would put a penance upon his sister, and he could not
+bear to think of her having to kneel upon dried peas.
+
+[Illustration: The Prince Runs Away.]
+
+He worked hard picking Christmas presents, and hid his unhappiness
+as best he could. On Christmas eve he was called into the chapel. The
+Christmas Monks were all assembled there. The walls were covered with
+green garlands and boughs and sprays of holly berries, and branches
+of wax lights Were gleaming brightly amongst them. The altar and the
+picture of the Blessed Child behind it were so bright as to almost
+dazzle one; and right up in the midst of it, in a lovely white dress,
+all wreaths and jewels, in a little chair with a canopy woven of green
+branches over it, sat Peter's little sister.
+
+And there were all the Christmas Monks in their white robes and
+wreaths, going up in a long procession, with their hands full of the
+very showiest Christmas presents to offer them to her!
+
+But when they reached her and held out the lovely presents--the
+first was an enchanting wax doll, the biggest beauty in the whole
+garden--instead of reaching out her hands for them, she just drew
+back, and said in her little sweet, piping voice: "Please, I ain't a
+millacle, I'm only Peter's little sister."
+
+"Peter?" said the abbot; "the Peter who works in our garden?"
+
+"Yes," said the little sister.
+
+Now here was a fine opportunity for a whole convent full of monks to
+look foolish--filing up in procession with their hands full of gifts
+to offer to a miracle, and finding there was no miracle, but only
+Peter's little sister.
+
+But the abbot of the Christmas Monks had always maintained that there
+were two ways of looking at all things; if any object was not what you
+wanted it to be in one light, that there was another light in which it
+would be sure to meet your views.
+
+So now he brought this philosophy to bear.
+
+"This little girl did not come up in the place of the wax doll, and
+she is not a miracle in that light," said he; "but look at her in
+another light and she is a miracle--do you not see?"
+
+They all looked at her, the darling little girl, the very meaning and
+sweetness of all Christmas in her loving, trusting, innocent face.
+
+"Yes," said all the Christmas Monks, "she is a miracle." And they all
+laid their beautiful Christmas presents down before her.
+
+Peter was so delighted he hardly knew himself; and, oh! the joy there
+was when he led his little sister home on Christmas-day, and showed
+all the wonderful presents.
+
+The Christmas Monks always retained Peter in their employ--in fact he
+is in their employ to this day. And his parents, and his little
+sister who was entirely cured of her lameness, have never wanted for
+anything.
+
+As for the Prince, the courtiers were never tired of discussing and
+admiring his wonderful knowledge of physics which led to his adjusting
+the weight of the hamper of Christmas presents to his own so nicely
+that he could not fall. The Prince liked the talk and the admiration
+well enough, but he could not help, also, being a little glum; for he
+got no Christmas presents that year.
+
+MARY E. WILKINS.
+
+
+
+
+[Illustration]
+
+TEDDY AND THE ECHO.
+
+
+  Teddy is out upon the lake;
+  His oars a softened click-clack make;
+  On all that water bright and blue,
+  His boat is the only one in view;
+  So, when he hears another oar
+  Click-clack along the farthest shore,
+  "Heigh-ho," he cries, "out for a row!
+  Echo is out! heigh-ho--heigh-ho!"
+      "Heigh-ho, heigh-ho!"
+  Sounds from the distance, faint and low.
+
+  Then Teddy whistles that he may hear
+  Her answering whistle, soft and clear;
+  Out of the greenwood, leafy, mute,
+  Pipes her mimicking, silver flute,
+  And, though her mellow measures are
+  Always behind him half a bar,
+  'Tis sweet to hear her falter so;
+  And Ted calls back, "Bravo, bravo!"
+      "Bravo, bravo!"
+  Comes from the distance, faint and low.
+
+  She laughs at trifles loud and long;
+  Splashes the water, sings a song;
+  Tells him everything she is told,
+  Saucy or tender, rough or bold;
+  One might think from the merry noise
+  That the quiet wood was full of boys,
+  Till Ted, grown tired, cries out, "Oh, no!
+  'Tis dinner time and I must go!"
+      "Must go? must go?"
+  Sighs from the distance, sad and low.
+
+  When Ted and his clatter are away,
+  Where does the little Echo stay?
+  Perched on a rock to watch for him?
+  Or keeping a lookout from some limb?
+  If he were to push his boat to land,
+  Would he find her footprint on the sand?
+  Or would she come to his blithe "hello,"
+  Red as a rose, or white as snow?
+      Ah no, ah no!
+  Never can Teddy see Echo!
+
+MRS. CLARA DOTY BATES.
+
+
+
+
+SONG OF THE CHRISTMAS STOCKINGS.
+
+
+  Six merry stockings in the firelight,
+  Hanging by the chimney snug and tight:
+        Jolly, jolly red,
+        That belongs to Ted;
+        Daintiest blue,
+        That belongs to Sue;
+        Old brown fellow
+        Hanging long,
+        That belongs to Joe,
+        Big and strong;
+        Little, wee, pink mite
+        Covers Baby's toes--
+        Won't she pull it open
+        With funny little crows!
+        Sober, dark gray,
+        Quiet little mouse,
+        That belongs to Sybil
+        Of all the house;
+        One stocking left,
+        Whose should it be?
+        Why, that I'm sure
+        Must belong to me!
+  Well, so they hang, packed to the brim,
+  Swing, swing, swing, in the firelight dim.
+
+[Illustration]
+
+      'Twas the middle of the night.
+        Open flew my eyes;
+      I started up in bed,
+        And stared in surprise;
+  I rubbed my eyes, I rubbed my ears,
+  I saw the stockings swing, I heard the stockings sing;
+        Out in the firelight
+        Merry and bright,
+        Snug and tight,
+        Six were swinging,
+        Six were singing,
+        Like everything!
+  And the red, and the blue, and the brown, and the gray,
+  And the pink one, and mine, had it all their own way,
+  And no one could stop them--because, don't you see,
+  Nobody heard 'em--but just poor me!
+
+    "All day we carry toes,
+      To-night we carry candy;
+    Christmas comes once a year
+      Very nice and handy.
+  Run, run, race all day,
+  Mother mends us after play,
+  We don't care, life is gay,
+  Sing and swing, away, away!
+
+    "Boots and little tired shoes,
+      We kick 'em off in glee;
+    It's fun to hang up here
+      And Santa Claus to see.
+  Run, run, race all day,
+  Mother mends us after play,
+  We don't care, life is gay,
+  Sing and swing, away, away!
+
+    "To-morrow down we come,
+    The sweet things tumble out,
+    Then carrying toes again
+    We'll have to trot about.
+  Run, run, race all day,
+  Mother'll mend us after play,
+  We don't care, we'll swing so gay
+  While we can--away, away!"
+
+MARGARET SIDNEY.
+
+
+
+
+JOE LAMBERT'S FERRY.
+
+
+It was a thoroughly disagreeable March morning. The wind blew in sharp
+gusts from every quarter of the compass by turns. It seemed to take
+especial delight in rushing suddenly around corners and taking away
+the breath of anybody it could catch there coming from the opposite
+direction. The dust, too, filled people's eyes and noses and mouths,
+while the damp raw March air easily found its way through the best
+clothing, and turned boys' skins into pimply goose-flesh.
+
+It was about as disagreeable a morning for going out as can be
+imagined; and yet everybody in the little Western river town who could
+get out went out and stayed out.
+
+Men and women, boys and girls, and even little children, ran to the
+river-bank: and, once there, they stayed, with no thought, it seemed,
+of going back to their homes or their work.
+
+The people of the town were wild with excitement, and everybody told
+everybody else what had happened, although everybody knew all about
+it already. Everybody, I mean, except Joe Lambert, and he had been so
+busy ever since daylight, sawing wood in Squire Grisard's woodshed,
+that he had neither seen nor heard anything at all. Joe was the
+poorest person in the town. He was the only boy there who really had
+no home and nobody to care for him. Three or four years before
+this March morning, Joe had been left an orphan, and being utterly
+destitute, he should have been sent to the poorhouse, or "bound out"
+to some person as a sort of servant. But Joe Lambert had refused to go
+to the poorhouse or to become a bound boy. He had declared his ability
+to take care of himself, and by working hard at odd jobs, sawing
+wood, rolling barrels on the wharf, picking apples or weeding onions
+as opportunity offered, he had managed to support himself "after a
+manner," as the village people said. That is to say, he generally got
+enough to eat, and some clothes to wear. He slept in a warehouse shed,
+the owner having given him leave to do so on condition that he would
+act as a sort of watchman on the premises.
+
+Joe Lambert alone of all the villagers knew nothing of what had
+happened; and of course Joe Lambert did not count for anything in the
+estimation of people who had houses to live in. The only reason I have
+gone out of the way to make an exception of so unimportant a person
+is, that I think Joe did count for something on that particular March
+day at least.
+
+When he finished the pile of wood that he had to saw, and went to the
+house to get his money, he found nobody there. Going down the street
+he found the town empty, and, looking down a cross street, he saw the
+crowds that had gathered on the river-bank, thus learning at last that
+something unusual had occurred. Of course he ran to the river to learn
+what it was.
+
+When he got there he learned that Noah Martin the fisherman who was
+also the ferryman between the village and its neighbor on the other
+side of the river, had been drowned during the early morning in a
+foolish attempt to row his ferry skiff across the stream. The ice
+which had blocked the river for two months, had begun to move on the
+day before, and Martin with his wife and baby--a child about a year
+old--were on the other side of the river at the time. Early on that
+morning there had been a temporary gorging of the ice about a mile
+above the town, and, taking advantage of the comparatively free
+channel, Martin had tried to cross with his wife and child, in his
+boat.
+
+The gorge had broken up almost immediately, as the river was rising
+rapidly, and Martin's boat had been caught and crushed in the ice.
+Martin had been drowned, but his wife, with her child in her arms, had
+clung to the wreck of the skiff, and had been carried by the current
+to a little low-lying island just in front of the town.
+
+What had happened was of less importance, however, than what people
+saw must happen. The poor woman and baby out there on the island,
+drenched as they had been in the icy water, must soon die with cold,
+and, moreover, the island was now nearly under water, while the great
+stream was rising rapidly. It was evident that within an hour or two
+the water would sweep over the whole surface of the island, and the
+great fields of ice would of course carry the woman and child to a
+terrible death.
+
+Many wild suggestions were made for their rescue, but none that gave
+the least hope of success. It was simply impossible to launch a boat.
+The vast fields of ice, two or three feet in thickness, and from
+twenty feet to a hundred yards in breadth, were crushing and grinding
+down the river at the rate of four or five miles an hour, turning and
+twisting about, sometimes jamming their edges together with so great
+a force that one would lap over another, and sometimes drifting apart
+and leaving wide open spaces between for a moment or two. One might as
+well go upon such a river in an egg shell as in the stoutest row-boat
+ever built.
+
+The poor woman with her babe could be seen from the shore, standing
+there alone on the rapidly narrowing strip of island. Her voice could
+not reach the people on the bank, but when she held her poor little
+baby toward them in mute appeal for help, the mothers there understood
+her agony.
+
+There was nothing to be done, however. Human sympathy was given
+freely, but human help was out of the question. Everybody on the
+river-shore was agreed in that opinion. Everybody, that is to say,
+except Joe Lambert. He had been so long in the habit of finding ways
+to help himself under difficulties, that he did not easily make up his
+mind to think any case hopeless.
+
+No sooner did Joe clearly understand how matters stood than he ran
+away from the crowd, nobody paying any attention to what he did. Half
+an hour later somebody cried out: "Look there! Who's that, and what's
+he going to do?" pointing up the stream.
+
+Looking in that direction, the people saw some one three quarters of
+a mile away standing on a floating field of ice in the river. He had
+a large farm-basket strapped upon his shoulders, while in his hands he
+held a plank.
+
+As the ice-field upon which he stood neared another, the youth ran
+forward, threw his plank down, making a bridge of it, and crossed to
+the farther field. Then picking up his plank, he waited for a chance
+to repeat the process.
+
+As he thus drifted down the river, every eye was strained in his
+direction. Presently some one cried out: "It's Joe Lambert; and he's
+trying to cross to the island!"
+
+There was a shout as the people understood the nature of Joe's heroic
+attempt, and then a hush as its extreme danger became apparent.
+
+Joe had laid his plans wisely and well, but it seemed impossible that
+he could succeed. His purpose was, with the aid of the plank to cross
+from one ice-field to another until he should reach the island; but
+as that would require a good deal of time, and the ice was moving down
+stream pretty rapidly, it was necessary to start at a point above the
+town. Joe had gone about a mile up the river before going on the ice,
+and when first seen from the town he had already reached the channel.
+
+After that first shout a whisper might have been heard in the crowd on
+the bank. The heroism of the poor boy's attempt awed the spectators,
+and the momentary expectation that he would disappear forever amid
+the crushing ice-fields, made them hold their breath in anxiety and
+terror.
+
+His greatest danger was from the smaller cakes of ice. When it became
+necessary for him to step upon one of these, his weight was sufficient
+to make it tilt, and his footing was very insecure. After awhile as
+he was nearing the island, he came into a large collection of these
+smaller ice-cakes. For awhile he waited, hoping that a larger field
+would drift near him; but after a minute's delay he saw that he
+was rapidly floating past the island, and that he must either trust
+himself to the treacherous broken ice, or fail in his attempt to save
+the woman and child.
+
+[Illustration: Joe Saves Mrs. Martin and Baby Martin.]
+
+Choosing the best of the floes, he laid his plank and passed across
+successfully. In the next passage, however, the cake tilted up, and
+Joe Lambert went down into the water! A shudder passed through the
+crowd on shore.
+
+"Poor fellow!" exclaimed some tender-hearted spectator; "it is all
+over with him now."
+
+"No; look, look!" shouted another. "He's trying to climb upon the
+ice. Hurrah! he's on his feet again!" With that the whole company of
+spectators shouted for joy.
+
+Joe had managed to regain his plank as well as to climb upon a cake
+of ice before the fields around could crush him, and now moving
+cautiously, he made his way, little by little toward the island.
+
+"Hurrah! Hurrah! he's there at last!" shouted the people on the shore.
+
+"But will he get back again?" was the question each one asked himself
+a moment later.
+
+Having reached the island, Joe very well knew that the more difficult
+part of his task was still before him, for it was one thing for an
+active boy to work his way over floating ice, and quite another to
+carry a child and lead a woman upon a similar journey.
+
+But Joe Lambert was quick-witted and "long-headed," as well as brave,
+and he meant to do all that he could to save these poor creatures for
+whom he had risked his life so heroically. Taking out his knife he
+made the woman cut her skirts off at the knees, so that she might walk
+and leap more freely. Then placing the baby in the basket which was
+strapped upon his back, he cautioned the woman against giving way to
+fright, and instructed her carefully about the method of crossing.
+
+On the return journey Joe was able to avoid one great risk. As it
+was not necessary to land at any particular point, time was of little
+consequence, and hence when no large field of ice was at hand, he
+could wait for one to approach, without attempting to make use of the
+smaller ones. Leading the woman wherever that was necessary, he slowly
+made his way toward shore, drifting down the river, of course, while
+all the people of the town marched along the bank.
+
+When at last Joe leaped ashore in company with the woman, and bearing
+her babe in the basket on his back, the people seemed ready to trample
+upon each other in their eagerness to shake hands with their hero.
+
+Their hero was barely able to stand, however. Drenched as he had been
+in the icy river, the sharp March wind had chilled him to the marrow,
+and one of the village doctors speedily lifted him into his carriage
+which he had brought for that purpose, and drove rapidly away, while
+the other physician took charge of Mrs. Martin and the baby.
+
+Joe was a strong, healthy fellow, and under the doctor's treatment of
+hot brandy and vigorous rubbing with coarse towels, he soon warmed.
+Then he wanted to saw enough wood for the doctor to pay for his
+treatment, and thereupon the doctor threatened to poison him if he
+should ever venture to mention pay to him again.
+
+Naturally enough the village people talked of nothing but Joe
+Lambert's heroic deed, and the feeling was general that they had never
+done their duty toward the poor orphan boy. There was an eager wish to
+help him now, and many offers were made to him; but these all took the
+form of charity, and Joe would not accept charity at all. Four years
+earlier, as I have already said, he had refused to go to the poorhouse
+or to be "bound out," declaring that he could take care of himself;
+and when some thoughtless person had said in his hearing that he would
+have to live on charity, Joe's reply had been:
+
+"I'll never eat a mouthful in this town that I haven't worked for if
+I starve." And he had kept his word. Now that he was fifteen years old
+he was not willing to begin receiving charity even in the form of a
+reward for his good deed.
+
+One day when some of the most prominent men of the village were
+talking to him on the subject Joe said:
+
+"I don't want anything except a chance to work, but I'll tell you what
+you may do for me if you will. Now that poor Martin is dead the ferry
+privilege will be to lease again, I'd like to get it for a good long
+term. Maybe I can make something out of it by being always ready to
+row people across, and I may even be able to put on something better
+than a skiff after awhile. I'll pay the village what Martin paid."
+
+The gentlemen were glad enough of a chance to do Joe even this small
+favor, and there was no difficulty in the way. The authorities gladly
+granted Joe a lease of the ferry privilege for twenty years, at twenty
+dollars a year rent, which was the rate Martin had paid.
+
+At first Joe rowed people back and forth, saving what money he got
+very carefully. This was all that could be required of him, but it
+occurred to Joe that if he had a ferry boat big enough, a good many
+horses and cattle and a good deal of freight would be sent across the
+river, for he was a "long-headed" fellow as I have said.
+
+One day a chance offered, and he bought for twenty-five dollars a
+large old wood boat, which was simply a square barge forty feet long
+and fifteen feet wide, with bevelled bow and stern, made to hold cord
+wood for the steamboats. With his own hands he laid a stout deck
+on this, and, with the assistance of a man whom he hired for that
+purpose, he constructed a pair of paddle wheels. By that time Joe was
+out of money, and work on the boat was suspended for awhile. When
+he had accumulated a little more money, he bought a horse power, and
+placed it in the middle of his boat, connecting it with the shaft of
+his wheels. Then he made a rudder and helm, and his horse-boat was
+ready for use. It had cost him about a hundred dollars besides his own
+labor upon it, but it would carry live stock and freight as well as
+passengers, and so the business of the ferry rapidly increased, and
+Joe began to put a little money away in the bank.
+
+After awhile a railroad was built into the village, and then a second
+one came. A year later another railroad was opened on the other side
+of the river, and all the passengers who came to one village by rail
+had to be ferried across the river in order to continue their journey
+by the railroads there. The horse-boat was too small and too slow for
+the business, and Joe Lambert had to buy two steam ferry-boats to take
+its place. These cost more money than he had, but, as the owner of
+the ferry privilege, his credit was good, and the boats soon paid for
+themselves, while Joe's bank account grew again.
+
+Finally the railroad people determined to run through cars for
+passengers and freight, and to carry them across the river on large
+boats built for that purpose; but before they gave their orders
+to their boat builders, they were waited upon by the attorneys of
+Joe Lambert, who soon convinced them that his ferry privilege gave
+him alone the right to run any kind of ferry-boats between the two
+villages which had now grown to such size that they called themselves
+cities. The result was that the railroads made a contract with Joe to
+carry their cars across, and he had some large boats built for that
+purpose.
+
+All this occurred a good many years ago, and Joe Lambert is not called
+Joe now, but Captain Lambert. He is one of the most prosperous men in
+the little river city, and owns many large river steamers besides his
+ferry-boats. Nobody is readier than he to help a poor boy or a poor
+man; but he has his own way of doing it. He will never toss so much as
+a cent to a beggar, but he never refuses to give man or boy a chance
+to earn money by work. He has an odd theory that money which comes
+without work does more harm than good.
+
+GEORGE CARY EGGLESTON.
+
+
+
+
+THE CHRISTMAS GIFT.
+
+
+  O you dear little dog, all eyes and fluff!
+  How can I ever love you enough?
+  How was it, I wonder, that any one knew
+  I wanted a little dog, just like you?
+  With your jet black nose, and each sharp-cut ear,
+  And the tail you wag--O you _are_ so dear!
+  Did you come trotting through all the snow
+  To find my door, I should like to know?
+  Or did you ride with the fairy team
+  Of Santa Claus, of which children dream,
+  Tucked all up in the furs so warm,
+  Driving like mad over village and farm,
+  O'er the country drear, o'er the city towers,
+  Until you stopped at this house of ours?
+  Did you think 'twas a little girl like me
+  You were coming so fast thro' the snow to see?
+  Well, whatever way you happened here,
+  You are my pet and my treasure dear--
+  _Such_ a Christmas present! O such a joy!
+  Better than any kind of a toy!
+  Something that eats and drinks and walks,
+  And looks so lovely and _almost_ talks;
+  With a face so comical and wise,
+  And such a pair of bright brown eyes!
+  I'll tell you something: The other day
+  I heard papa to my mamma say
+  Very softly, "I really fear
+  Our baby may be quite spoiled, my dear,
+  We've made of our darling such a pet,
+  I think the little one may forget
+  There's any creature beneath the sun
+  Beside herself to waste thought upon."
+  I'm going to show him what I can do
+  For a dumb little helpless thing like you.
+  I'll not be selfish and slight you, dear;
+  Whenever I can I shall keep you near.
+
+CELIA THAXTER.
+
+
+
+
+SOME EDUCATED HORSES.
+
+
+[Illustration: A NOD OF GREETING.]
+
+One of the most pleasing of modern English authors, Philip Gilbert
+Hamerton, who is an artist as well as writer, and who loves animals
+almost as he does art, says that it would be interesting for a man to
+live permanently in a large hall into which three or four horses, of a
+race already intelligent, should be allowed to go and come freely from
+the time they were born, just as dogs do in a family where they are
+pets, or something to that effect. They should have full liberty to
+poke their noses in their master's face, or lay their heads on his
+shoulder at meal-time, receiving their treat of lettuce or sugar or
+bread, only they must understand that they would be punished if they
+knocked off the vases or upset furniture, or did other mischief. He
+would like to see this tried, and see what would come of it; what
+intelligence a horse would develop, and what love.
+
+The plan looks quixotic, does it not? But one thing you may be sure
+of; he might have worse associates. There are grades of intellect--we
+will call it intellect, for it comes very near, _so_ near that we
+never can know just where the fine shading off begins between a
+horse's brain and that of a man; and there are warm, loving equine
+hearts. Many horses are superior to many men; nobler, more honorable,
+quicker-witted, more loyal, and a thousand times more companionable.
+Would you not rather, if you had to live on Robinson Crusoe's island,
+have an intelligent, sympathetic horse and a devoted bright dog than
+some people you know? One is inclined to favor Hamerton's notion after
+seeing the Bartholomew Educated Horses, who can do almost anything but
+speak.
+
+[Illustration: BUCEPHALUS TAKES THE HAT.]
+
+I am writing this for boys and girls who love animals, and for those
+elderly people who are fond of them too, including the lady whom I
+overheard saying that she had been nine times to see the remarkable
+exhibition. The young folks were enthusiastic patrons of that little
+theatre in Boston, where for more than a hundred afternoons and
+evenings the "Professor," as he was called, showed off his four-footed
+pupils. One forenoon he set apart for a free entertainment of as many
+poor children as the house would hold, who went under the charge of
+the truant officers and had an overwhelming good time.
+
+There were sixteen of the animals, counting a donkey; grays, bays,
+chestnut-colored beauties, and one who looked buff in the gaslight. In
+recalling them, I cannot say that there was a white-footed one. What
+consequence about white feet, you ask! Perhaps you know that they
+make that of some account in the horse bazaars of the East. The Turks
+say "two white fore feet are lucky; one white fore and hind foot are
+unlucky;" and they have a rhyme that runs--
+
+  One white foot, buy a horse,
+  Two white feet, try a horse,
+  Three white feet, look well about him,
+  Four white feet, do without him.
+
+[Illustration: THE CHAIR IS BROUGHT.]
+
+They were all named. There was a Chevalier, a Prince, and a Pope; a
+little pet, Miss Nellie, who looked as if she would be ready to drink
+tea out of your saucer and kiss you after her fashion; Mustang, an
+irrepressible and rude savage from the Rio Grande region; Brutus,
+Caesar, and Draco; a Broncho beauty; a Sprite; a stately stepping
+Abdallah; Jim, who was a character; and a Bucephalus, after that
+storied steed who would suffer no one to ride but his master, the
+Great Alexander, but for him to mount, would kneel and wait.
+
+It is perhaps needless and an insult to their intelligence for me to
+say that they all know their own names as well as you know yours. They
+know, too, their numbers when they are acting as soldiers formed in
+line waiting orders; the Professor passes along and checking them off
+with his forefinger numbers them, then falling back, calls out for
+certain ones to form into platoons, and they make no mistake. Their
+ears are alert, their senses sharp, their memory good. "Number Two,"
+"Number Four," and so on, answer by advancing, as a soldier would
+respond to the roll-call.
+
+They came around from the stable an hour before the performance and
+went up the stairs by which the audience went; and a crowd used to
+gather every afternoon and evening to see that remarkable and free
+feat.
+
+[Illustration: PRINCE.]
+
+When the curtain rose there was to be seen a small stage carpeted
+ankle deep with saw-dust, where Professor Bartholomew purposed to have
+his horses act; first the part of a school, then of a court room, last
+a military drill and taking of a fort. They came in one after another,
+pretending, if that is not too strong a word, that they were on the
+way to school, and that was the playground; and there they played
+together, with such soft, graceful action, such caressing ways, and
+trippings as dainty as in "Pinafore," until at the ringing of a bell
+they came at once to order from their mixed-up, mazy pastime, and
+waited the arrival of their teacher, the Professor, who entered with a
+schoolmaster air, and gave the order.
+
+"Bucephalus, take my hat, and bring me a chair!" as you might tell
+James or John to do the same, and with more promptness than they would
+have shown, Bucephalus came forward, took the hat between his teeth,
+carried it across the stage and placed it on a desk, and brought a
+chair.
+
+[Illustration: SPRITE AS A MATHEMATICIAN.]
+
+The master, seating himself, began the business of the day, saying,
+"The school will now form two classes; the large scholars will go to
+the left, the small ones to the right;" and six magnificent creatures
+separated themselves from the group huddled together and went as they
+were bid, while Nellie, the mustang, and other little ones, filed off
+to the opposite side, and placed themselves in a row, with their heads
+turned away from the stage. And there they remained, generally minding
+their business, though sometimes one would get out of position, look
+around, or give his neighbor a nudge which brought out a reprimand:
+"Pope, what are you doing?" "Brutus, you need not look around to see
+what I am about!" "Sprite, you let Mustang alone!" "Mustang, keep in
+your place!"
+
+He then called for some one to come forward and be monitor, and Prince
+volunteered, was sent to the desk for some papers, tried to raise the
+lid, and let it drop, pretending that he couldn't, but after being
+sharply asked what he was so careless for, did it, and then brought a
+handkerchief and made a great ado about wanting to have something done
+with it, which proved to be tying it around his leg. Meanwhile one
+of the horses behaved badly, whereupon the teacher said, "I see you
+are booked for a whipping," and the culprit came out in the floor,
+straightened himself, and received without wincing what seemed to be
+a severe whipping; but in reality it was all done with a soft cotton
+snapper, which made more sound than anything else.
+
+[Illustration: ABDALLAH PACES.]
+
+Mustang was called upon to ring the bell, a good-sized dinner-bell,
+for the blackboard exercises by Sprite. He, too, made believe he
+couldn't, seized it the wrong way, dropped it, picked it up wrong end
+first, was scolded at, then took it by the handle, gave it a vigorous
+shake, and after letting it fall several times, set it on the table.
+Meanwhile a platform was brought in supporting a tall post, at the
+top of which, higher than a horse could reach, was a blackboard having
+chalked on it a sum which was not added up correctly. Sprite, being
+requested to wipe it out, took the sponge from the table, and planting
+her fore-feet on the platform, stretched her head up, and by desperate
+passes succeeded in wiping out a part of the figures, and started to
+leave, but seeing that some remained, went back and erased them.
+
+One day she went through a process which showed conclusively that
+horses can reason. She dropped the sponge the first thing, and it fell
+down behind the platform out of her sight. She got down, and looked
+about in the saw-dust for it, the audience curiously watching to see
+what she would do next. She was evidently much perplexed. She knew
+perfectly well that her duty would not be fulfilled until she had
+rubbed the figures out, and the sponge was not to be found. Mr.
+Bartholomew said nothing, gave her no look or hint or sign to help her
+out of her predicament, but sat in his chair and waited. At last she
+deliberately stepped on the platform again, stretched her head up and
+wiped the figures out with her mouth, at which the audience applauded
+as if they would bring the roof down. That was something clearly not
+in the programme, but a bit of independent reasoning. Yet, having
+done so much, she knew that something was not right. About that
+sponge--what had become of it? It was her business to lay it on the
+table when she was through using it. She hesitated, looked this way
+and that, started to go, came back, dreadfully puzzled and uncertain,
+suddenly spied it, set her teeth in it, put it on the table, and
+went to her place, with a clear conscience, no doubt, and the people
+cheered more wildly than before.
+
+[Illustration: A GAME OF LEAP-FROG.]
+
+This was to me one of the most interesting things I witnessed; and
+connecting it with some facts Mr. Bartholomew communicated, it was
+doubly so.
+
+[Illustration: NELLIE ROLLS THE BARREL OVER THE "TETER."]
+
+He said that it was his practice not to interfere or help; the horse
+knew just what she was to do, and he preferred to wait and let her
+think it out for herself. The other horses all knew too if there was
+any failure or mistake, and the offender was closely watched by them,
+and in some way reproved by them if they could get the opportunity,
+and at times this little by-play became very amusing.
+
+After this was most exquisite dancing by Bucephalus, and by Caesar,
+whose steppings were in perfect rhythm to the music. Then the latter
+turned in a circle to the right or the left and walked around defining
+the figure eight, just as any one in the audience chose to request;
+and Abdallah came in with a string of bells around her, and paced,
+cantered, galloped, trotted, marched or walked as the word was given.
+The horses were generally expected to come to the footlights and
+bow to the audience at the close of any feat; occasionally one would
+forget to do this, and then some of his comrades would shoulder or
+buffet him, or Mr. Bartholomew would give a reminder, "That is not
+all, is it?" and back would come the delinquent, and bow and bow
+twenty times as fast as he could, as if there could not be enough of
+it. At the close of one scene all the horses came up to the front in a
+line, and leaning over the rope which was stretched there to keep them
+from coming down on the people's heads, would bow, and bow again, and
+it was a wonderfully pretty sight to see.
+
+A game of leap frog was announced. "There are four of the horses that
+jump," said Mr. Bartholomew. They like this least of any of their
+feats, and those who can do it best are most timid. At first one horse
+is jumped over, then two, three, are packed closely together, and
+little Sprite clears them all at one flying leap, broad-backed and
+much taller than herself though they are. Those who do not want to
+try it beg off by a pretty pantomime, and Sprite is encouraged by her
+master, who pats her first and seems to be saying something in her
+ear. They like to get approval in the way of a caress, but beyond that
+they are in no way rewarded.
+
+[Illustration: PRINCE AND POPE PLAY AT SEE-SAW.]
+
+Next Nellie rolled a barrel over a "teter plank" with her fore-feet,
+and Prince and Pope performed the difficult feat, and one which
+required mutual understanding and confidence, of see-sawing away up
+in air on the plank; first face to face, carefully balancing, and then
+the latter slowly turned on the space less than twenty inches wide,
+without disturbing the delicate poise. This he considers one of the
+most remarkable, because each horse must act with reference to the
+other, and the understanding between them must be so perfect that no
+fatal false movement can be made.
+
+One of the grand tableaux represents a court scene with the donkey
+set up in a high place for judge, the jury passing around from mouth
+to mouth a placard labelled "Not Guilty," and the releasing of the
+prisoner from his chain. But the military drill exceeds all else by
+the brilliance of the display and the inspiring movements and martial
+air. Mr. Bartholomew in military uniform advancing like a general,
+disciplined twelve horses who came in at bugle call, with a crimson
+band about their bodies and other decorations, and went through
+evolutions, marchings, counter-marchings, in single file, by twos, in
+platoons, forming a hollow square with the precision of old soldiers.
+They liked it too, and were proud of themselves as they stepped to the
+music. The final act was a furious charge on a fort, the horses firing
+cannon, till in smoke and flame, to the sound of patriotic strains,
+the structure was demolished, the country's flag was saved, caught up
+by one horse, seized by another, waved, passed around, and amidst the
+excitement and confusion of a great victory, triumphant horses rushing
+about, the curtain fell.
+
+[Illustration: THE GREAT COURT SCENE.]
+
+It was from first to last a wonderful exhibition of horse
+intelligence.
+
+Trained horses, that is, trained for circus feats at given signals,
+are no novelty. Away back in the reign of one of the Stuarts, a horse
+named Morocco was exhibited in England, though his tricks were only as
+the alphabet to what is done now. And long before Rarey's day, there
+was here and there a man who had a sort of magnetic influence, and
+could tame a vicious horse whom nobody else dared go near. When George
+the Fourth was Prince of Wales, he had a valuable Egyptian horse who
+would throw, they said, the best rider in the world. Even if a man
+could succeed in getting on his back, it was not an instant he could
+stay there. But there came to England on a visit a distinguished
+Eastern bey, with his mamelukes, who, hearing of the matter which
+was the talk of the town, declared that the animal should be ridden.
+Accordingly many royal personages and noblemen met the Orientals at
+the riding house of the Prince, in Pall Mall, a mameluke's saddle was
+put on the vicious creature, who was led in, looking in a white heat
+of fury, wicked, with danger in his eyes, when, behold, the bey's
+chief officer sprung on his back and rode for half an hour as easily
+as a lady would amble on the most spiritless pony that ever was
+bridled.
+
+[Illustration: STRETCHING HIMSELF.]
+
+Some men have a tact, a way with animals, and can do anything with
+them. It is a born gift, a rare one, and a precious one. There was a
+certain tamer of lions and tigers, Henri Marten by name, who lately
+died at the age of ninety, who tamed by his personal influence alone.
+It was said of him in France, that at the head of an army he "might
+have been a Bonaparte. Chance has made a man of genius a director of a
+menagerie."
+
+Professor Bartholomew was ready to talk about his way, but a part of
+it is the man himself. He could not make known to another what is the
+most essential requisite. He, too, brought genius to his work; besides
+that, a certain indefinable mastership which animals recognize, love
+for them, and a vast amount of perseverance and patient waiting. It is
+a thing that is not done in a day.
+
+He was fond of horses from a boy, and began early to educate one,
+having a remarkable faculty for handling them; so that now, after
+thirty years of it, there is not much about the equine nature that
+he does not understand. He trained a company of Bronchos, which were
+afterwards sold; and since then he has gradually got together the
+fifteen he now exhibits, and he has others in process of training. He
+took these when they were young, two or three years old; and not one
+of them, except Jim, who has a bit of outside history, has ever been
+used in any other way. They know nothing about carriages or carts,
+harness or saddle; they have escaped the cruel curb-bits, the check
+reins and blinders of our civilization. Fortunate in that respect. And
+they never have had a shoe on their feet. Their feet are perfect, firm
+and sound, strong and healthy and elastic; natural, like those of the
+Indians, who run barefoot, who go over the rough places of the wilds
+as easily as these horses can run up the stairs or over the cobble
+stones of the pavement if they were turned loose in the street.
+
+[Illustration: MILITARY DRILL.]
+
+It was a pleasure to know of their life-long exemption from all
+such restraints. That accounted in great measure for their beautiful
+freedom of motion, for that wondrous grace and charm. Did you ever
+think what a complexity of muscles, bones, joints, tendons and other
+arrangements, enter into the formation of the knees, hoofs, legs of a
+horse; what a piece of mechanism the strong, supple creature is?
+
+These have never had their spirits broken; have never been scolded at
+or struck except when a whip was necessary as a rod sometimes is for
+a child. The hostlers who take care of them are not allowed to speak
+roughly. "Be low-spoken to them," the master says. In the years when
+he was educating them he groomed and cared for them himself, with no
+other help except that of his two little sons. No one else was allowed
+to meddle with them; and, necessarily, they were kept separate from
+other horses. Now, wherever they are exhibiting, he always goes out
+the first thing in the morning to see them. He passes from one to
+another, and they are all expecting the little love pats and slaps
+on their glossy sides, the caressings and fondlings and pleasant
+greetings of "Chevalier, how are you, old fellow?" "Abdallah,
+my beauty," and, "Nellie, my pet!" Some are jealous, Abdallah
+tremendously so, and if he does not at once notice her, she lays her
+ears back, shows temper, and crowds up to him, determined that no
+other shall have precedence.
+
+[Illustration: A PRETTY TABLEAU.]
+
+They are not "thorough-breds." Those, he said, were for racers or
+travellers; yet of fine breeds, some choice blood horses, some mixed,
+one a mustang, who at first did not know anything that was wanted of
+him.
+
+"Why," said he, "at first some of them would go up like pop corn,
+higher than my head. But I never once have been injured by one of them
+except perhaps an accidental stepping on my foot. They never kick;
+they don't know how to kick. You can go behind them as well as before,
+and anywhere."
+
+In buying he chose only those whose looks showed that they were
+intelligent. "But how did he know, by what signs?" queried an
+all-absorbed "Dumb Animals" woman.
+
+"Oh, dear," he said, "why, every way; the eyes, the ears, the whole
+face, the expression, everything. No two horses' faces look alike.
+Just as it is with a flock of sheep. A stranger would say, 'Why, they
+are all sheep, and all alike, and that is all there is to it;' but the
+owner knows better; he knows every face in the flock. He says, 'this
+is Jenny, and that is Dolly, there is Jim, and here's Nancy.' Oh,
+land, yes! they are no more alike than human beings are, disposition
+or anything. Some have to be ordered, and some coaxed and flattered.
+Yes, flattered. Now if two men come and want to work for me, I can
+tell as soon as I cast my eyes on them. I say to one, 'Go and do such
+a thing;' but if I said it to the other, he'd answer 'I won't; I'm not
+going to be ordered about by any man.' Horses are just like that. A
+horse can read you. If you get mad, he will. If you abuse him, he will
+do the same by you, or try to. You must control yourself, if you would
+control a horse."
+
+They must be of superior grade, "for it's of no use to spend one's
+time on a dull one. It does not pay to teach idiots where you want
+brilliant results, though all well enough for a certain purpose."
+
+Some of these he had been five years in educating to do what we saw.
+Some he had taught to do their special part in one year, some in two.
+The first thing he did was to give the horse opportunity and time to
+get well acquainted with him; in his words, "to become friends. Let
+him see that you are his friend, that you are not going to whip him.
+You meet him cordially. You are glad to see him and be with him, and
+pretty soon he knows it and likes to be with you. And so you establish
+comradeship, you understand each other. Caress him softly. Don't make
+a dash at him. Say pleasant things to him. Be gentle; but at the same
+time you must be _master_." That is a good basis. And then he teaches
+one thing at a time, a simple thing, and waits a good while before
+he brings forward another; does not perplex or puzzle the pupil by
+anything else till that is learned, and some of the first words are
+"come," "stand," "remain."
+
+What a horse has once learned he never or seldom forgets. Mr.
+Bartholomew thinks it is not as has sometimes been said, because a
+horse has a memory stronger than a man, "but because he has fewer
+things to learn. A man sees a million things. A horse's mind cannot
+accommodate what a man's can, so those things he knows have a better
+chance. Those few things he fixes. His memory fastens on them. I once
+had a pony I had trained, which was afterwards gone from me three
+years. At the end of that time I was in California exhibiting, and saw
+a boy on the pony. I tried to buy him, but the boy who had owned him
+all that time, refused to part with him; however, I offered such a
+price that I got him, and that same evening I took him into the tent
+and thought I would see what he remembered. He went through all his
+old tricks (besides a few I had myself forgotten) except one. He could
+not manage walking on his hind feet the distance he used to. Another
+time I had a trained horse stolen from me by the Indians, and he was
+off in the wilds with them a year and a half. One day, in a little
+village--that was in California too--I saw him and knew him, and the
+horse knew me. I went up to the Indian who had him and said, 'That is
+my horse, and I can prove it.' Out there a stolen horse, no matter how
+many times he has changed hands, is given up, if the owner can prove
+it. The Indian said, 'If you can, you shall have him, but you won't
+do it.' I said, 'I will try him in four things; I will ask him to trot
+three times around a circle, to lie down, to sit up, and to bring me
+my handkerchief. If he is my horse, he will do it.' The Indian said,
+'You shall have him if he does, but he won't!' By this time a crowd
+had got together. We put the horse in an enclosure, he did as he was
+told, and I had him back."
+
+Mr. Bartholomew said, "My motto in educating them is, 'Make haste
+slowly;' I never require too much, and I never ask a horse to do what
+he _can't_ do. That is of no use. A horse _can't_ learn what horses
+are not capable of learning; and he can't do a thing until he
+understands what you mean, and how you want it done. What good would
+it do for me to ask a man a question in French if he did not know a
+word of the language? I get him used to the word, and show him what
+I want. If it is to climb up somewhere, I gently put his foot up and
+have him keep it there until I am ready to have it come down, and
+then I take it down myself. I never let the horse do it. The same with
+other things, showing him how, and by words. They know a great number
+of words. My horses are not influenced by signs or motions when they
+are on the stage. They use their intelligence and memory, and they
+associate ideas and are required to obey. They learn a great deal by
+observing one another. One watches and learns by seeing the others.
+I taught one horse to kneel, by first bending his knee myself, and
+putting him into position. After he had learned, I took another in
+who kept watch all the time, and learned partly by imitation. They are
+social creatures; they love each other's company."
+
+Most of these horses have been together now for several years, and
+are fond of one another. They appear to keep the run of the whole
+performance, and listen and notice like children in a school when
+one or more of their number goes out to recite. It was extremely
+interesting to observe them when the leap-frog game was going on.
+Owing to the smallness of the stage, it was difficult for the horse
+who was to make the jump to get under headway, and several times
+poor Sprite, or whichever it was, would turn abruptly to make another
+start, upon which every horse on her side would dart out for a chance
+at giving her a nip as she went by. They all seemed throughout the
+entire exhibition to feel a sort of responsibility, or at least a
+pride in it, as if "this is _our_ school. See how well Bucephalus
+minds, or how badly Brutus behaves! This is _our_ regiment. Don't
+we march well? How fine and grand, how gallant and gay we are!" And
+the wonder of it all is, not so much what any one horse can do, or
+the sense of humor they show, or the great number of words they
+understand, but the mental processes and nice calculation they show
+in the feats where they are associated in complex ways, which require
+that each must act his part independently and mind nothing about it if
+another happens to make a mistake.
+
+[Illustration: VICTORY.]
+
+To obtain any adequate representation of these horses while
+performing, it was necessary that it be done by process called
+instantaneous photographing. You are aware that birds and insects are
+taken by means of an instrument named the "photographic revolver,"
+which is aimed at them. Recently an American, Mr. Muybridge, has been
+able to photograph horses while galloping or trotting, by his "battery
+of cameras," and a book on "the Horse in Motion" has for its subject
+this instantaneous catching a likeness as applied to animals. But how
+could any process, however swift, or ingenious, or admirable, do full
+justice to the grace and spirit, the all-alive attitudes and varieties
+of posture, the dalliance and charm, the freedom in action?
+
+[Illustration: THE STORMING OF THE FORT.]
+
+Professor Bartholomew gave his performances the name of "The Equine
+Paradox." He now has his beautiful animals in delightful summer
+quarters at Newport, where they are counted among the "notable
+guests." He has the Opera House there for his training school for
+three months, preparing new ones for next winter's exhibition, and
+keeping the old ones in practice. It is pleasant to know that he cares
+so faithfully for their health as to give them a home through the warm
+weather in that cool retreat by the sea.
+
+[Illustration: AFTER THE PLAY.]
+
+
+
+
+QUESTIONS.
+
+
+  Can you put the spider's web back in its place, that once has been
+          swept away?
+  Can you put the apple again on the bough, which fell at our feet
+          to-day?
+  Can you put the lily-cup back on the stem, and cause it to live
+          and grow?
+  Can you mend the butterfly's broken wing, that you crushed with a
+          hasty blow?
+  Can you put the bloom again on the grape, or the grape again on
+          the vine?
+  Can you put the dewdrops back on the flowers, and make them
+          sparkle and shine?
+  Can you put the petals back on the rose? If you could, would it
+          smell as sweet?
+  Can you put the flour again in the husk, and show me the ripened
+          wheat?
+  Can you put the kernel back in the nut, or the broken egg in its
+          shell?
+  Can you put the honey back in the comb, and cover with wax each
+          cell?
+  Can you put the perfume back in the vase, when once it has sped
+          away?
+  Can you put the corn-silk back on the corn, or the down on the
+          catkins--say?
+  You think that my questions are trifling, dear? Let me ask you
+          another one:
+  Can a hasty word ever be unsaid, or a deed unkind, undone?
+
+KATE LAWRENCE.
+
+
+
+
+THE BRAVEST BOY IN TOWN.
+
+
+  He lived in the Cumberland Valley,
+    And his name was Jamie Brown;
+  But it changed one day, so the neighbors say,
+    To the "Bravest Boy in Town."
+
+  'Twas the time when the Southern soldiers,
+    Under Early's mad command,
+  O'er the border made their dashing raid
+    From the north of Maryland.
+
+  And Chambersburg unransomed
+    In smouldering ruins slept,
+  While up the vale, like a fiery gale,
+    The Rebel raiders swept.
+
+  And a squad of gray-clad horsemen
+    Came thundering o'er the bridge,
+  Where peaceful cows in the meadows browse,
+    At the feet of the great Blue Ridge;
+
+  And on till they reached the village,
+    That fair in the valley lay,
+  Defenseless then, for its loyal men,
+    At the front, were far away.
+
+  "Pillage and spoil and plunder!"
+    This was the fearful word
+  That the Widow Brown, in gazing down
+    From her latticed window, heard.
+
+  'Neath the boughs of the sheltering oak-tree,
+    The leader bared his head,
+  As left and right, until out of sight,
+    His dusty gray-coats sped.
+
+  Then he called: "Halloo! within there!"
+    A gentle, fair-haired dame
+  Across the floor to the open door
+    In gracious answer came.
+
+  "Here! stable my horse, you woman!"--
+    The soldier's tones were rude--
+  "Then bestir yourself and from yonder shelf
+    Set out your store of food!"
+
+  For her guest she spread the table;
+    She motioned him to his place
+  With a gesture proud; then the widow bowed,
+    And gently--asked a grace.
+
+  "If thine enemy hunger, feed him!
+    I obey, dear Christ!" she said;
+  A creeping blush, with its scarlet flush,
+    O'er the face of the soldier spread.
+
+  He rose: "You have said it, madam!
+    Standing within your doors
+  Is the Rebel foe; but as forth they go
+    They shall trouble not you nor yours!"
+
+  Alas, for the word of the leader!
+    Alas, for the soldier's vow!
+  When the captain's men rode down the glen,
+    They carried the widow's cow.
+
+  It was then the fearless Jamie
+    Sprang up with flashing eyes,
+  And in spite of tears and his mother's fears,
+    On the gray mare, off he flies.
+
+  Like a wild young Tam O'Shanter
+    He plunged with piercing whoop,
+  O'er field and brook till he overtook
+    The straggling Rebel troop.
+
+  Laden with spoil and plunder,
+    And laughing and shouting still,
+  As with cattle and sheep they lazily creep
+    Through the dust o'er the winding hill.
+
+  "Oh! the coward crowd!" cried Jamie;
+    "There's Brindle! I'll teach them now!"
+  And with headlong stride, at the captain's side,
+    He called for his mother's cow.
+
+  "Who are _you_, and who is your mother?--
+    I promised she should not miss?--
+  Well! upon my word, have I never heard
+    Of assurance like to this!"
+
+  "Is your word the word of a soldier?"--
+    And the young lad faced his foes,
+  As a jeering laugh, in anger half
+    And half in sport, arose.
+
+  But the captain drew his sabre,
+    And spoke, with lowering brow:
+  "Fall back into line! The joke is mine!
+    Surrender the widow's cow!"
+
+  And a capital joke they thought it,
+    That a barefoot lad of ten
+  Should demand his due--and get it too--
+    In the face of forty men.
+
+  And the rollicking Rebel raiders
+    Forgot themselves somehow,
+  And three cheers brave for the hero gave,
+    And three for the brindle cow.
+
+  He lived in the Cumberland Valley,
+    And his name _was_ Jamie Brown;
+  But it changed that day, so the neighbors say,
+    To the "Bravest Boy in Town."
+
+MRS. EMILY HUNTINGTON NASON.
+
+
+
+
+THE WOLF AND THE GOSLINGS.
+
+  An old gray goose walked forth with pride,
+  With goslings seven at her side;
+  A lovely yellowish-green they were,
+      And very dear to her.
+
+  She led them to the river's brink
+  To paddle their feet awhile and drink,
+  And there she heard a tale that made
+      Her very soul afraid.
+
+  A neighbor gabbled the story out,
+  How a wolf was known to be thereabout--
+  A great wolf whom nothing could please
+    As well as little geese.
+
+  So, when, as usual, to the wood
+  She went next day in search of food,
+  She warned them over and over, before
+    She turned to shut the door:
+
+[Illustration]
+
+  "My little ones, if you hear a knock
+  At the door, be sure and not unlock,
+  For the wolf will eat you, if he gets in,
+    Feathers and bones and skin.
+
+  "You will know him by his voice so hoarse,
+  By his paws so hairy and black and coarse."
+  And the goslings piped up, clear and shrill,
+    "We'll take great care, we will."
+
+  The mother thought them wise and went
+  To the far-off forest quite content;
+  But she was scarcely away, before
+    There came a rap at the door.
+
+  "Open, open, my children dear,"
+  A gruff voice cried: "your mother is here."
+  But the young ones answered, "No, no, no,
+    Her voice is sweet and low;
+
+  "And you are the wolf--so go away,
+  You can't get in, if you try all day."
+  He laughed to himself to hear them talk,
+    And wished he had some chalk,
+
+  To smooth his voice to a tone like geese;
+  So he went to the merchant's and bought a piece,
+  And hurried back, and rapped once more.
+    "Open, open the door,
+
+  "I am your mother, dears," he said.
+  But up on the window ledge he laid,
+  In a careless way, his great black paw,
+    And this the goslings saw.
+
+  "No, no," they called, "that will not do,
+  Our mother has not black hands like you;
+  For you are the wolf, so go away,
+    You can't get in to-day."
+
+  The baffled wolf to the old mill ran,
+  And whined to the busy miller man:
+  "I love to hear the sound of the wheel
+    And to smell the corn and meal."
+
+  The miller was pleased, and said "All right;
+  Would you like your cap and jacket white?"
+  At that he opened a flour bin
+    And playfully dipped him in.
+
+  He floundered and sneezed a while, then, lo,
+  He crept out white as a wolf of snow.
+  "If chalk and flour can make me sweet,"
+    He said, "then I'm complete."
+
+[Illustration]
+
+  For the third time back to the house he went,
+  And looked and spoke so different,
+  That when he rapped, and "Open!" cried,
+    The little ones replied,
+
+  "If you show us nice clean feet, we will."
+  And straightway, there on the window-sill
+  His paws were laid, with dusty meal
+    Powdered from toe to heel.
+
+[Illustration]
+
+  Yes, they were white! So they let him in,
+  And he gobbled them all up, feathers and skin!
+  Gobbled the whole, as if 'twere fun,
+    Except the littlest one.
+
+  An old clock stood there, tick, tick, tick,
+  And into that he had hopped so quick
+  The wolf saw nothing, and fancied even
+    He'd eaten all the seven.
+
+  But six were enough to satisfy;
+  So out he strolled on the grass to lie.
+  And when the gray goose presently
+    Came home--what did she see?
+
+  Alas, the house door open wide,
+  But no little yellow flock inside;
+  The beds and pillows thrown about;
+    The fire all gone out;
+
+  The chairs and tables overset;
+  The wash-tub spilled, and the floor all wet;
+  And here and there in cinders black,
+    The great wolf's ugly track.
+
+  She called out tenderly every name,
+  But never a voice in answer came,
+  Till a little frightened, broad-billed face
+    Peered out of the clock-case.
+
+  This gosling told his tale with grief,
+  And the gray goose sobbed in her handkerchief,
+  And sighed--"Ah, well, we will have to go
+    And let the neighbors know."
+
+[Illustration]
+
+  So down they went to the river's brim,
+  Where their feathered friends were wont to swim,
+  And there on the turf so green and deep
+    The old wolf lay asleep.
+
+  He had a grizzly, savage look,
+  And he snored till the boughs above him shook.
+  They tiptoed round him--drew quite near,
+    Yet still he did not hear.
+
+  Then, as the mother gazed, to her
+  It seemed she could see his gaunt side stir--
+  Stir and squirm, as if under the skin
+    Were something alive within!
+
+  "Go back to the house, quick, dear," she said,
+  "And fetch me scissors and needle and thread.
+  I'll open his ugly hairy hide,
+    And see what is inside."
+
+[Illustration]
+
+  She snipped with the scissors a criss-cross slit,
+  And well rewarded she was for it,
+  For there were her goslings--six together--
+    With scarcely a rumpled feather.
+
+  The wolf had eaten so greedily,
+  He had swallowed them all alive you see,
+  So, one by one, they scrambled out,
+    And danced and skipped about.
+
+  Then the gray goose got six heavy stones,
+  And placed them in between the bones;
+  She sewed him deftly, with needle and thread,
+    And then with her goslings fled.
+
+  The wolf slept long and hard and late,
+  And woke so thirsty he scarce could wait.
+  So he crept along to the river's brink
+    To get a good cool drink.
+
+  But the stones inside began to shake,
+  And make his old ribs crack and ache;
+  And the gladsome flock, as they sped away,
+    Could hear him groan, and say:--
+
+  "What's this rumbling and tumbling?
+  What's this rattling like bones?
+  I thought I'd eaten six small geese,
+    But they've turned out only stones."
+
+  He bent his neck to lap--instead,
+  He tumbled in, heels over head;
+  And so heavy he was, as he went down
+    He could not help but drown!
+
+  And after that, in thankful pride,
+  With goslings seven at her side,
+  The gray goose came to the river's brink
+    Each day to swim and drink.
+
+AMANDA B. HARRIS.
+
+[Illustration]
+
+
+
+
+THE BISHOP'S VISIT.
+
+
+  Tell you about it? Of course I will!
+  I thought 'twould be dreadful to have him come,
+  For mamma said I must be quiet and still,
+  And she put away my whistle and drum.--
+
+[Illustration]
+
+  And made me unharness the parlor chairs,
+  And packed my cannon and all the rest
+  Of my noisiest playthings off up-stairs,
+  On account of this very distinguished guest.
+
+  Then every room was turned upside down,
+  And all the carpets hung out to blow;
+  For when the Bishop is coming to town
+  The house must be in order, you know.
+
+  So out in the kitchen I made my lair,
+  And started a game of hide-and-seek;
+  But Bridget refused to have me there,
+  For the Bishop was coming--to stay a week--
+
+  And she must have cookies and cakes and pies,
+  And fill every closet and platter and pan,
+  Till I thought this Bishop, so great and wise,
+  Must be an awfully hungry man.
+
+  Well! at last he came; and I do declare,
+  Dear grandpapa, he looked just like you,
+  With his gentle voice and his silvery hair,
+  And eyes with a smile a-shining through.
+
+  And whenever he read or talked or prayed,
+  I understood every single word;
+  And I wasn't the leastest bit afraid,
+  Though I never once spoke or stirred;
+
+  Till, all of a sudden, he laughed right out
+  To see me sit quietly listening so;
+  And began to tell us stories about
+  Some queer little fellows in Mexico.
+
+  And all about Egypt and Spain--and then
+  He _wasn't_ disturbed by a little noise,
+  And said that the greatest and best of men
+  Once were rollicking, healthy boys.
+
+  And he thinks it is no matter at all
+  If a little boy runs and jumps and climbs;
+  And mamma should be willing to let me crawl
+  Through the bannister-rails in the hall sometimes.
+
+  And Bridget, sir, made a great mistake,
+  In stirring up such a bother, you see,
+  For the Bishop--he didn't care for cake,
+  And really liked to play games with me.
+
+  But though he's so honored in word and act--
+  (Stoop down, this is a secret now)--
+  _He couldn't spell Boston!_ That's a fact!
+  But whispered to me to tell him how.
+
+MRS. EMMA HUNTINGTON NASON.
+
+
+
+
+THE FIRST STEP.
+
+
+  To-night as the tender gloaming
+    Was sinking in evening's gloom,
+  And only the glow of the firelight
+    Brightened the dark'ning room,
+  I laughed with the gay heart-gladness
+    That only to mothers is known,
+  For the beautiful brown-eyed baby
+    Took his first step alone!
+
+[Illustration: Baby's First Step.]
+
+  Hurriedly running to meet him
+    Came trooping the household band,
+  Joyous, loving and eager
+    To reach him a helping hand,
+  To watch him with silent rapture,
+    To cheer him with happy noise,
+  My one little fair-faced daughter
+    And four brown romping boys.
+
+  Leaving the sheltering arms
+    That fain would bid him rest
+  Close to the love and the longing,
+    Near to the mother's breast;
+  Wild with laughter and daring,
+    Looking askance at me,
+  He stumbled across through the shadows
+    To rest at his father's knee.
+
+  Baby, my dainty darling,
+    Stepping so brave and bright
+  With flutter of lace and ribbon
+    Out of my arms to-night,
+  Helped in thy pretty ambition
+    With tenderness blessed to see,
+  Sheltered, upheld, and protected--
+    How will the last step be?
+
+  See, we are all beside you
+    Urging and beckoning on,
+  Watching lest aught betide you
+    Till the safe near goal is won,
+  Guiding the faltering footsteps
+    That tremble and fear to fall--
+  How will it be, my darling,
+    With the last sad step of all?
+
+  Nay! Shall I dare to question,
+    Knowing that One more fond
+  Than all our tenderest loving
+    Will guide the weak feet beyond!
+  And knowing beside, my dearest,
+    That whenever the summons, 'twill be
+  But a stumbling step through the shadows,
+    Then rest--at the Father's knee!
+
+M.E.B.
+
+
+
+
+BINGEN ON THE RHINE.
+
+
+  A Soldier of the Legion lay dying in Algiers,
+  There was lack of woman's nursing, there was dearth of woman's
+          tears;
+  But a comrade stood beside him while his life-blood ebbed away,
+  And bent with pitying glances to hear what he might say.
+  The dying soldier faltered, as he took that comrade's hand,
+  And he said, "I never more shall see my own, my native land;
+  Take a message, and a token to some distant friends of mine,
+  For I was born at Bingen, at Bingen on the Rhine.
+
+  "Tell my brothers and companions when they meet and crowd around
+  To hear my mournful story, in the pleasant vineyard ground,
+  That we fought the battle bravely, and when the day was done,
+  Full many a corse lay ghastly pale beneath the setting sun;
+  And, 'mid the dead and dying, were some grown old in wars,
+  The death-wound on their gallant breasts, the last of many scars;
+  And some were young, and suddenly beheld life's morn decline,
+  And one had come from Bingen, fair Bingen on the Rhine.
+
+  "Tell my mother that her other son shall comfort her old age;
+  For I was still a truant bird, that thought his home a cage.
+  For my father was a soldier, and even as a child
+  My heart leaped forth to hear him tell of struggles fierce and wild;
+  And when he died and left us to divide his scanty hoard
+  I let them take whate'er they would, but I kept my father's sword;
+  And with boyish love I hung it where the bright light used to shine
+  On the cottage wall at Bingen, calm Bingen on the Rhine.
+
+  "Tell my sister not to weep for me, and sob with drooping head,
+  When the troops come marching home again with glad and gallant
+          tread,
+  But to look upon them proudly, with a calm and steadfast eye,
+  For her brother was a soldier, too, and not afraid to die;
+  And if a comrade seek her love, I ask her in my name,
+  To listen to him kindly, without regret or shame,
+  And to hang the old sword in its place, my father's sword and mine;
+  For the honor of old Bingen, dear Bingen on the Rhine.
+
+  "There's another, not a sister, in the happy days gone by,
+  You'd have known her by the merriment that sparkled in her eye;
+  Too innocent for coquetry, too fond for idle scorning,
+  O, friend! I fear the lightest heart makes sometimes heaviest
+          mourning.
+  Tell her the last night of my life (for ere the moon be risen
+  My body will be out of pain, my soul be out of prison),
+  I dreamed I stood with her, and saw the yellow sunlight shine,
+  On the vine-clad hills of Bingen, fair Bingen on the Rhine.
+
+[Illustration]
+
+  "I saw the blue Rhine sweep along; I heard, or seemed to hear,
+  The German songs we used to sing in chorus sweet and clear;
+  And down the pleasant river and up the slanting hill,
+  The echoing chorus sounded, through the evening calm and still;
+  And her glad blue eyes were on me, as we passed, with friendly talk
+  Down many a path beloved of yore, and well remembered walk,
+  And her little hand lay lightly, confidingly, in mine,
+  But we'll meet no more at Bingen, loved Bingen on the Rhine."
+
+  His trembling voice grew faint and hoarse, his grasp was childish
+          weak,
+  His eyes put on a dying look, he sighed, and ceased to speak;
+  His comrade bent to lift him, but the spark of life had fled--
+  The soldier of the Legion in a foreign land is dead;
+  And the soft moon rose up slowly, and calmly she looked down
+  On the red sand of the battle-field with bloody corses strewn;
+  Yet calmly on that dreadful scene her pale light seemed to shine,
+  As it shone on distant Bingen, fair Bingen on the Rhine.
+
+CAROLINE E.S. NORTON.
+
+
+
+
+OSITO.
+
+
+On the lofty mountain that faced the captain's cabin the frost had
+already made an insidious approach, and the slender thickets of
+quaking ash that marked the course of each tiny torrent, now stood
+out in resplendent hues and shone afar off like gay ribbons running
+through the dark-green pines. Gorgeously, too, with scarlet, crimson
+and gold, gleamed the lower spurs, where the oak-brush grew in dense
+masses and bore beneath a blaze of color, a goodly harvest of acorns,
+now ripe and loosened in their cups.
+
+It was where one of these spurs joined the parent mountain, where the
+oak-brush grew thickest, and, as a consequence, the acorns were most
+abundant, that the captain, well versed in wood-craft mysteries,
+had built his bear trap. For two days he had been engaged upon
+it, and now, as the evening drew on, he sat contemplating it with
+satisfaction, as a work finished and perfected.
+
+From his station there, on the breast of the lofty mountain, the
+captain could scan many an acre of sombre pine forest with pleasant
+little parks interspersed, and here and there long slopes brown with
+bunch grass. He was the lord of this wild domain. And yet his sway
+there was not undisputed. Behind an intervening spur to the westward
+ran an old Indian trail long traveled by the Southern Utes in their
+migrations north for trading and hunting purposes. And even now, a
+light smoke wafted upward on the evening air, told of a band encamped
+on the trail on their homeward journey to the Southwest.
+
+The captain needed not this visual token of their proximity. He
+had been aware of it for several days. Their calls at his cabin in
+the lonely little park below had been frequent, and they had been
+specially solicitous of his coffee, his sugar, his biscuit and other
+delicacies, insomuch that once or twice during his absence these
+ingenuous children of Nature had with primitive simplicity, entered
+his cabin and helped themselves without leave or stint.
+
+However, as he knew their stay would be short, the captain bore
+these neighborly attentions with mild forbearance. It was guests more
+graceless than these who had roused his wrath.
+
+From their secret haunts far back towards the Snowy Range the bears
+had come down to feast upon the ripened acorns, and so doing, had
+scented the captain's bacon and sugar afar off and had prowled by
+night about the cabin. Nay, more, three days before, the captain,
+having gone hurriedly away and left the door loosely fastened, upon
+his return had found all in confusion. Many of his eatables had
+vanished, his flour sack was ripped open, and, unkindest cut of all,
+his beloved books lay scattered about. At the first indignant glance
+the captain had cried out, "Utes again!" But on looking around he saw
+a tell-tale trail left by floury bear paws.
+
+Hence this bear trap.
+
+It was but a strong log pen floored with rough-hewn slabs and fitted
+with a ponderous movable lid made of other slabs pinned on stout cross
+pieces. But, satisfied with his handiwork, the captain now arose, and,
+prying up one end of the lid with a lever, set the trigger and baited
+it with a huge piece of bacon. He then piled a great quantity of rock
+upon the already heavy lid to further guard against the escape of any
+bear so unfortunate as to enter, and shouldering his axe and rifle
+walked homewards.
+
+Whatever vengeful visions of captive bears he was indulging in were,
+however, wholly dispelled as he drew near the cabin. Before the
+door stood the Ute chief accompanied by two squaws. "How!" said the
+chieftain, with a conciliatory smile, laying one hand on his breast of
+bronze and extending the other as the captain approached.
+
+"How!" returned the captain bluffly, disdaining the hand with a
+recollection of sundry petty thefts.
+
+"Has the great captain seen a pappoose about his wigwam?" asked
+the chief, nowise abashed, in Spanish--a language which many of the
+Southern Utes speak as fluently as their own.
+
+The great captain had expected a request for a biscuit; he, therefore,
+was naturally surprised at being asked for a baby. With an effort he
+mustered together his Spanish phrases and managed to reply that he had
+seen no pappoose.
+
+"Me pappoose lost," said one of the squaws brokenly. And there was so
+much distress in her voice that the captain, forgetting instantly all
+about the slight depredations of his dusky neighbors, volunteered to
+aid them in their search for the missing child.
+
+All that night, for it was by this time nearly dark, the hills flared
+with pine torches and resounded with the shrill cries of the squaws,
+the whoops of the warriors, the shouts of the captain; but the search
+was fruitless.
+
+This adventure drove the bear-trap from its builder's mind, and it
+was two days before it occurred to him to go there in quest of captive
+bears.
+
+Coming in view of it he immediately saw the lid was down. Hastily he
+approached, bent over, and peeped in. And certainly, in the whole of
+his adventurous life the captain was never more taken by surprise; for
+there, crouched in one corner, was that precious Indian infant.
+
+Yes, true it was, that all those massive timbers, all that ponderous
+mass of rock, had only availed to capture one very small Ute pappoose.
+At the thought of it, the builder of the trap was astounded. He
+laughed aloud at the absurdity. In silence he threw off the rock
+and lid and seated himself on the edge of the open trap. Captor and
+captive then gazed at each other with gravity. The errant infant's
+attire consisted of a calico shirt of gaudy hues, a pair of little
+moccasins, much frayed, and a red flannel string. This last was tied
+about his straggling hair, which fell over his forehead like the
+shaggy mane of a _bronco_ colt and veiled, but could not obscure, the
+brightness of his black eyes.
+
+He did not cry; in fact, this small stoic never even whimpered, but he
+held the bacon, or what remained of it, clasped tightly to his breast
+and gazed at his captor in silence. Glancing at the bacon, the captain
+saw it all. Hunger had induced this wee wanderer to enter the trap,
+and in detaching the bait, he had sprung the trigger and was caught.
+
+"What are you called, little one?" asked the captain at length, in a
+reassuring voice, speaking Spanish very slowly and distinctly.
+
+"Osito," replied the wanderer in a small piping voice, but with the
+dignity of a warrior.
+
+"Little Bear!" the captain repeated, and burst into a hearty laugh,
+immediately checked, however by the thought that now he had caught
+him, what was he to do with him? The first thing, evidently, was to
+feed him.
+
+So he conducted him to the cabin and there, observing the celerity
+with which the lumps of sugar vanished, he saw at once that Little
+Bear was most aptly named. Then, sometimes leading, and sometimes
+carrying him, for Osito was very small, he set out for the Ute
+encampment.
+
+Their approach was the signal for a mighty shout. Warriors, squaws and
+the younger confreres of Osito, crowded about him. A few words from
+the captain explained all, and Osito himself, clinging to his mother,
+was borne away in triumph--the hero of the hour. Yet, no--the captain
+was that, I believe. For as he stood in their midst with a very
+pleased look on his sunburnt face, the chief quieting the hubbub with
+a wave of his hand, advanced and stood before him. "The great captain
+has a good heart," he said in tones of conviction. "What can his Ute
+friends do to show their gratitude?"
+
+"Nothing," said the captain, looking more pleased than ever.
+
+"The captain has been troubled by the bears. Would it please him if
+they were all driven back to their dens in the great mountains towards
+the setting sun?"
+
+"It would," said the captain; "can it be done?"
+
+"It can. It shall," said the chief with emphasis. "To-morrow let the
+_captain_ keep his eyes open, and as the sun sinks behind the mountain
+tops he shall see the bears follow also."
+
+The chief kept his word. The next day the uproar on the hills was
+terrific. Frightened out of their wits, the bears forsook the acorn
+field and fled ingloriously to their secret haunts in the mountains to
+the westward.
+
+[Illustration: "WHAT ARE YOU CALLED, LITTLE ONE?" ASKED THE CAPTAIN.]
+
+In joy thereof the captain gave a great farewell feast to his red
+allies. It was spread under the pines in front of his cabin, and every
+delicacy of the season was there, from bear steaks to beaver tails.
+The banquet was drawing to a close, and complimentary speeches 'twixt
+host and guests were in order, when a procession of the squaws was
+seen approaching from the encampment. They drew near and headed for
+the captain in solemn silence. As they passed, each laid some gift
+at his feet--fringed leggings; beaded moccasins, bear skins, coyote
+skins, beaver pelts and soft robes of the mountain lion's hide--until
+the pile reached to the captain's shoulders. Last of all came Osito's
+mother and crowned the heap with a beautiful little brown bear skin.
+It was fancifully adorned with blue ribbons, and in the center of the
+tanned side there were drawn, in red pigment, the outlines of a very
+stolid and stoical-looking pappoose.
+
+F.L. STEALEY.
+
+
+
+
+THE LITTLE LION-CHARMER.
+
+
+  Outside the little village of Katrine,
+    Just where the country ventures into town,
+  A circus pitched its tents, and on the green
+    The canvas pyramids were fastened down.
+
+  The night was clear. The moon was climbing higher.
+    The show was over; crowds were coming out,
+  When, through the surging mass, the cry of "fire!"
+    Rose from a murmur to a wild, hoarse shout.
+
+  "Fire! fire!" The crackling flames ran up the tent,
+    The shrieks of frightened women filled the air,
+  The cries of prisoned beasts weird horror lent
+    To the wild scene of uproar and despair.
+
+  A lion's roar high over all the cries!
+    There is a crash--out into the night
+  The tawny creature leaps with glowing eyes,
+    Then stands defiant in the fierce red light.
+
+  "The lion's loose! The lion! Fly for your lives!"
+    But deathlike silence falls upon them all,
+  So paralyzed with fear that no one strives
+    To make escape, to move, to call!
+
+  "A weapon! Shoot him!" comes from far outside;
+    The shout wakes men again to conscious life;
+  But as the aim is taken, the ranks divide
+    To make a passage for the keeper's wife.
+
+  Alone she came, a woman tall and fair,
+    And hurried on, and near the lion stood;
+  "Oh, do not fire!" she cried; "let no one dare
+    To shoot my lion--he is tame and good.
+
+  "My son? my son?" she called; and to her ran
+    A little child, that scarce had seen nine years.
+  "Play! play!" she said. Quickly the boy began.
+    His little flute was heard by awe-struck ears.
+
+  "Fetch me a cage," she cried. The men obeyed.
+    "Now go, my son, and bring the lion here."
+  Slowly the child advanced, and piped, and played,
+    While men and women held their breaths in fear.
+
+  Sweetly he played, as though no horrid fate
+    Could ever harm his sunny little head.
+  He never paused, nor seemed to hesitate,
+    But went to do the thing his mother said.
+
+  The lion hearkened to the sweet clear sound;
+    The anger vanished from his threatening eyes;
+  All motionless he crouched upon the ground
+    And listened to the silver melodies.
+
+[Illustration: The Little Lion Charmer.]
+
+  The boy thus reached his side. The beast stirred not.
+    The child then backward walked, and played again,
+  Till, moving softly, slowly from the spot,
+    The lion followed the familiar strain.
+
+  The cage is waiting--wide its opened door--
+    And toward it, cautiously, the child retreats.
+  But see! The lion, restless grown once more,
+    Is lashing with his tail in angry beats.
+
+  The boy, advancing, plays again the lay.
+    Again the beast, remembering the refrain,
+  Follows him on, until in this dread way
+    The cage is reached, and in it go the twain.
+
+  At once the boy springs out, the door makes fast,
+    Then leaps with joy to reach his mother's side;
+  Her praise alone, of all that crowd so vast,
+    Has power to thrill his little heart with pride.
+
+HARRIET S. FLEMING.
+
+
+
+
+THE BOY TO THE SCHOOLMASTER.
+
+
+  You've quizzed me often and puzzled me long,
+    You've asked me to cipher and spell,
+  You've called me a dunce if I answered wrong,
+    Or a dolt if I failed to tell
+  Just when to say _lie_ and when to say _lay_,
+    Or what nine sevens may make,
+  Or the longitude of Kamschatka Bay,
+    Or the I-forget-what's-its-name Lake,
+  So I think it's about _my_ turn, I do,
+  To ask a question or so of you.
+
+  The schoolmaster grim, he opened his eyes,
+  But said not a word for sheer surprise.
+
+  Can you tell what "phen-dubs" means? I can.
+    Can you say all off by heart
+  The "onery twoery ickery ann,"
+    Or tell "alleys" and "commons" apart?
+  Can _you_ fling a top, I would like to know,
+    Till it hums like a bumble-bee?
+  Can you make a kite yourself that will go
+    'Most as high as the eye can see,
+  Till it sails and soars like a hawk on the wing,
+  And the little birds come and light on its string?
+
+  The schoolmaster looked oh! very demure,
+  But his mouth was twitching, I'm almost sure.
+
+  Can you tell where the nest of the oriole swings,
+    Or the color its eggs may be?
+  Do you know the time when the squirrel brings
+    Its young from their nest in the tree?
+  Can you tell when the chestnuts are ready to drop
+    Or where the best hazel-nuts grow?
+  Can you climb a high tree to the very tip-top,
+    Then gaze without trembling below?
+  Can you swim and dive, can you jump and run,
+  Or do anything else we boys call fun?
+
+  The master's voice trembled as he replied:
+  "You are right, my lad, I'm the dunce," he sighed.
+
+E.J. WHEELER.
+
+[Illustration: Little Mer-Folks.]
+
+
+
+
+WON'T TAKE A BAFF.
+
+
+[Illustration: ESCAPE.]
+
+  To the brook in the green meadow dancing,
+    The tree-shaded, grass-bordered brook,
+  For a bath in its cool, limpid water,
+    Old Dinah the baby boy took.
+
+  She drew off his cunning wee stockings,
+    Unbuttoned each dainty pink shoe,
+  Untied the white slip and small apron,
+    And loosened his petticoats, too.
+
+  And while Master Blue Eyes undressing,
+    She told him in quaintest of words
+  Of the showers that came to the flowers,
+    Of the rills that were baths for the birds.
+
+  And she said, "Dis yere sweetest of babies,
+    W'en he's washed, jess as hansum'll be
+  As any red, yaller or blue bird
+    Dat ebber singed up in a tree.
+
+  "An' sweeter den rosies an' lilies,
+    Or wiolets eder, I guess--"
+  When away flew the mischievous darling,
+    In the scantiest kind of a dress.
+
+  "Don't care if the birdies an' fowers,"
+    He shouted, with clear, ringing laugh,
+  "Wash 'eir hands an' 'eir faces forebber
+    An' ebber, _me_ won't take a baff."
+
+MARGARET EYTINGE.
+
+
+
+
+ONE WAY TO BE BRAVE.
+
+(_A TRUE STORY._)
+
+
+"[[P]]apa," exclaimed six-year-old Marland, leaning against his
+father's knee after listening to a true story, "I wish I could be as
+brave as that!"
+
+"Perhaps you will be when you grow up."
+
+"But maybe I sha'n't ever be on a railroad train when there is going
+to be an accident!"
+
+"Ah! but there are sure to be plenty of other ways for a brave man to
+show himself."
+
+Several days after this, when Marland had quite forgotten about trying
+to be brave, thinking, indeed, that he would have to wait anyway until
+he was a man, he and his little playmate, Ada, a year younger, were
+playing in the dog-kennel. It was a very large kennel, so that the two
+children often crept into it to "play house." After awhile, Marland,
+who, of course, was playing the papa of the house, was to go "down
+town" to his business; he put his little head out of the door of the
+kennel, and was just about to creep out, when right in front of him in
+the path he saw a snake. He knew in a moment just what sort of a snake
+it was, and how dangerous it was; he knew it was a rattlesnake, and
+that if it bit Ada or him, they would probably die. For Marland had
+spent two summers on his papa's big ranch in Kansas, and he had been
+told over and over again, if he ever saw a snake to run away from it
+as fast as he could, and this snake just in front of him was making
+the queer little noise with the rattles at the end of his tail which
+Marland had heard enough about to be able to recognize.
+
+[Illustration: THE LITTLE RANCHMAN. (From a photograph.)]
+
+Now you must know that a rattlesnake is not at all like a lion or a
+bear, although just as dangerous in its own way. It will not chase
+you; it can only spring a distance equal to its own length, and it
+has to wait and coil itself up in a ring, sounding its warning all
+the time, before it can strike at all. So if you are ever so little
+distance from it when you see it first, you can easily escape from
+it. The only danger is from stepping on it without seeing it. But
+Marland's snake was already coiled, and it was hardly more than a foot
+from the entrance to the kennel. You must know that the kennel was not
+out in an open field, either, but under a piazza, and a lattice work
+very near it left a very narrow passage for the children, even when
+there wasn't any snake. If they had been standing upright, they could
+have run, narrow as the way was; but they would have to crawl out of
+the kennel and find room for their entire little bodies on the ground
+before they could straighten themselves up and run. Fortunately, the
+snake's head was turned the other way.
+
+"Ada," said Marland very quietly, so quietly that his grandpapa,
+raking the gravel on the walk near by, did not hear, him, "there's
+a snake out here, and it is a rattlesnake. Keep very still and crawl
+right after me."
+
+"Yes, Ada," he whispered, as he succeeded in squirming himself out and
+wriggling past the snake till he could stand upright. "_There's room_,
+but you mustn't make any noise!"
+
+Five minutes later the two children sauntered slowly down the avenue,
+hand in hand.
+
+"Grandpapa," said Marland, "there's a rattlesnake in there where Ada
+and I were; perhaps you'd better kill him!"
+
+And when the snake had been killed, and papa for the hundredth time
+had folded his little boy in his arms and murmured, "My brave boy! my
+dear, brave little boy!" Marland looked up in surprise.
+
+"Why, it wasn't _I_ that killed the snake, papa! it was grandpapa! I
+didn't do anything; I only kept very still and ran away!"
+
+But you see, in that case, keeping very still and running away was
+just the bravest thing the little fellow could have done; and I
+think his mamma--for I am his mamma, and so I know just how she did
+feel--felt when she took him in her arms that night that in her little
+boy's soul there was something of the stuff of which heroes are made.
+
+MRS. ALICE WELLINGTON ROLLINS.
+
+
+
+
+THE MYSTERY OF SPRING.
+
+
+  Come, come, come, little Tiny,
+    Come, little doggie! We
+  Will "interview" all the blossoms
+    Down-dropt from the apple-tree;
+  We'll hie to the grove and question
+    Fresh grasses under the swing,
+  And learn if we can, dear Tiny,
+    Just what is the joy called Spring.
+
+  Come, come, come, little Tiny;
+    Golden it is, I know:
+  Gold is the air around us,
+    The crocus is gold below;
+  Red as the golden sunset
+    Is robin's breast, on the wing--
+  But, come, come, come, little Tiny,
+    This isn't the half of Spring.
+
+  Spring's more than beautiful, Tiny;
+    Fragrant it is--for, see,
+  We catch the breath of the violets
+    However hidden they be;
+  And buds o'erhead in the greenwood
+    The sweetest of spices fling--
+  Yet color and sweets together
+    Are still but a part of Spring.
+
+  Then come, come, come, little Tiny,
+    Let's hear what _you_ have to tell
+  Learned of the years you've scampered
+    Over the hill and dell--
+  What! Only a _bark_ for answer?
+    Now, Tiny, that isn't the thing
+  Will help unravel the riddle
+    Of wonderful, wonderful Spring.
+
+  Yes, Tiny, there's something better
+    Than form and scent and hue,
+  In the grass with its emerald glory;
+    In the air's cerulean blue;
+  In the glow of the sweet arbutus;
+    In the daisy's perfect mould:--
+  All these are delightful, Tiny,
+    But the secret's still untold.
+
+  Oh, Tiny, _you'll_ never know it--
+    For the mystery lies in this:
+  Just the fact of such warm uprising
+    From winter's chill abyss,
+  And the joy of our heart's upspringing
+    Whenever the Spring is born,
+  Because it repeats the story
+    Of the blessed Easter-morn!
+
+MRS. MARY B. DODGE.
+
+
+
+
+[Illustration: ... THE LEAST LITTLE THING HATH MESSAGE SO WONDEROUS
+AND TENDER.]
+
+
+MIDSUMMER WORDS.
+
+
+  What can they want of a midsummer verse,
+    In the flush of the midsummer splendor?
+  For the Empress of Ind shall I pull out my purse
+    And offer a penny to lend her?
+  Who cares for a song when the birds are a-wing,
+  Or a fancy of words when the least little thing
+    Hath message so wondrous and tender?
+
+  The trees are all plumed with their leafage superb,
+    And the rose and the lily are budding;
+  And wild, happy life, without hindrance or curb,
+    Through the woodland is creeping and scudding;
+  The clover is purple, the air is like mead,
+  With odor escaped from the opulent weed
+    And over the pasture-sides flooding.
+
+  Every note is a tune, every breath is a boon;
+    'Tis poem enough to be living;
+  Why fumble for phrase while magnificent June
+    Her matchless recital is giving?
+  Why not to the music and picturing come,
+  And just with the manifest marvel sit dumb
+    In silenced delight of receiving?
+
+  Ah, listen! because the great Word of the Lord
+    That was born in the world to begin it,
+  Makes answering word in ourselves to accord,
+    And was put there on purpose to win it.
+  And the fulness would smother us, only for this:
+  We _can_ cry to each other, "How lovely it is!
+    And how blessed it is to be in it!"
+
+MRS. A. D. T. WHITNEY.
+
+
+
+
+PAUL REVERE'S RIDE.
+
+
+  Listen, my children, and you shall hear
+  Of the midnight ride of Paul Revere,
+  On the eighteenth of April, in Seventy-Five:
+  Hardly a man is now alive
+  Who remembers that famous day and year.
+
+  He said to his friend--"If the British march
+  By land or sea from the town to-night,
+  Hang a lantern aloft in the belfry-arch
+  Of the North-Church tower, as a signal-light--
+  One if by land, and two if by sea;
+  And I on the opposite shore will be,
+  Ready to ride and spread the alarm
+  Through every Middlesex village and farm,
+  For the country-folk to be up and to arm."
+
+[Illustration]
+
+  Then he said good-night, and with muffled oar
+  Silently rowed to the Charlestown shore,
+  Just as the moon rose over the bay,
+  Where swinging wide at her moorings lay
+  The Somerset, British man-of-war:
+  A phantom ship, with each mast and spar
+  Across the moon, like a prison-bar,
+  And a huge, black hulk, that was magnified
+  By its own reflection in the tide.
+
+  Meanwhile, his friend, through alley and street
+  Wanders and watches with eager ears,
+  Till in the silence around him he hears
+  The muster of men at the barrack-door,
+  The sound of arms, and the tramp of feet,
+  And the measured tread of the grenadiers
+  Marching down to their boats on the shore.
+
+  Then he climbed to the tower of the church,
+  Up the wooden stairs, with stealthy tread,
+  To the belfry-chamber overhead,
+  And startled the pigeons from their perch
+  On the sombre rafters, that round him made
+  Masses and moving shapes of shade--
+  Up the light ladder, slender and tall,
+  To the highest window in the wall,
+  Where he paused to listen and look down
+  A moment on the roofs of the quiet town,
+  And the moonlight flowing over all.
+
+  Beneath, in the church-yard lay the dead
+  In their night-encampment on the hill,
+  Wrapped in silence so deep and still,
+  That he could hear, like a sentinel's tread
+  The watchful night-wind as it went
+  Creeping along from tent to tent,
+  And seeming to whisper, "All is well!"
+  A moment only he feels the spell
+  Of the place and the hour, the secret dread
+  Of the lonely belfry and the dead;
+  For suddenly all his thoughts are bent
+  On a shadowy something far away,
+  Where the river widens to meet the bay--
+  A line of black, that bends and floats
+  On the rising tide, like a bridge of boats.
+
+  Meanwhile, impatient to mount and ride,
+  Booted and spurred with a heavy stride,
+  On the opposite shore walked Paul Revere.
+  Now he patted his horse's side,
+  Now gazed on the landscape far and near,
+  Then impetuous stamped the earth,
+  And turned and tightened his saddle-girth;
+  But mostly he watched with eager search
+  The belfry-tower of the old North Church,
+  As it rose above the graves on the hill,
+  Lonely, and spectral, and sombre, and still.
+
+  And lo! as he looks, on the belfry's height,
+  A glimmer, and then a gleam of light!
+  He springs to the saddle, the bridle he turns,
+  But lingers and gazes, till full on his sight
+  A second lamp in the belfry burns.
+
+  A hurry of hoofs in a village-street,
+  A shape in the moonlight, a bulk in the dark,
+  And beneath from the pebbles, in passing, a spark
+  Struck out by a steed that flies fearless and fleet:
+  That was all! And yet, through the gloom and the light,
+  The fate of a nation was riding that night;
+  And the spark struck out by that steed, in his flight,
+  Kindled the land into flame with its heat.
+
+  It was twelve by the village-clock,
+  When he crossed the bridge into Medford town,
+  He heard the crowing of the cock,
+  And the barking of the farmer's dog,
+  And felt the damp of the river-fog,
+  That rises when the sun goes down.
+
+  It was one by the village-clock,
+  When he rode into Lexington.
+  He saw the gilded weathercock
+  Swim in the moonlight as he passed,
+  And the meeting-house windows, blank and bare,
+  Gaze at him with a spectral glare,
+  As if they already stood aghast
+  At the bloody work they would look upon.
+
+  It was two by the village-clock,
+  When he came to the bridge in Concord town.
+  He heard the bleating of the flock,
+  And the twitter of birds among the trees,
+  And felt the breath of the morning-breeze
+  Blowing over the meadows brown.
+  And one was safe and asleep in his bed,
+  Who at the bridge would be first to fall,
+  Who that day would be lying dead,
+  Pierced by a British musket-ball.
+
+  You know the rest. In the books you have read
+  How the British regulars fired and fled--
+  How the farmers gave them ball for ball,
+  From behind each fence and farmyard-wall,
+  Chasing the red-coats down the lane,
+  Then crossing the fields to emerge again
+  Under the trees at the turn of the road,
+  And only pausing to fire and load.
+
+  So through the night rode Paul Revere;
+  And so through the night went his cry of alarm
+  To every Middlesex village and farm--
+  A cry of defiance, and not of fear--
+  A voice in the darkness, a knock at the door,
+  And a word that shall echo for evermore!
+  For, borne on the night-wind of the Past,
+  Through all our history, to the last,
+  In the hour of darkness, and peril, and need,
+  The people will waken and listen to hear
+  The hurrying hoof-beat of that steed,
+  And the midnight-message of Paul Revere.
+
+HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW.
+
+
+
+
+TWO PERSIAN SCHOOLBOYS.
+
+
+[Illustration]
+
+"Wake, Otanes, wake, the Magi are singing the morning hymn to Mithras.
+Quick, or we shall be late at the exercises, and father promised, if
+we did well, we should go to the chase with him to-day."
+
+"And perhaps shoot a lion. What a feather in our caps that would be!
+Is it pleasant?"
+
+Smerdis pulled open the shutters that closed the windows, and the
+first rays of the sun sparkled on the trees and fountains of a
+beautiful garden beyond whose lofty walls appeared the dwellings and
+towers of a mighty city. Already the low roar of its traffic reached
+them while hurrying on their clothes to join their companions in the
+spacious grounds where they were trained in wrestling, throwing blocks
+of wood at each other to acquire agility in dodging the missiles,
+the skilful use of the bow, and various other exercises for the
+development of bodily strength and grace.
+
+A few minutes later the two brothers, Smerdis and Otanes, with scores
+of other lads, ranging in age from seven to fourteen years, were
+assembled in a vast playground, surrounded on all sides by a lofty
+wall.
+
+The playground of a large boarding-school?
+
+It almost might be called so, but the pupils of this boarding-school
+were educated free of expense to their parents, and it received
+only the sons of the highest nobles in the land. This playground
+was attached to the palace of Darius, King of Persia, who reigned
+twenty-four hundred years ago, and these chosen boys had been taken
+from their homes, as they reached the age of six years, to be reared
+"at his gate," as the language of the country expressed it.
+
+Otanes and Smerdis were sons of one of the highest officers of the
+court, the "ear of the king," or, as he would now be called, the
+Minister of Police. Handsome little fellows of eleven and twelve,
+with blue eyes, fair complexions, and curling yellow locks, their long
+training in all sorts of physical exercises had made them stronger
+and hardier than most lads of their age in our time. Though reared
+in a palace, at one of the most splendid courts the world has ever
+seen, the boys were expected to endure the hardships of the poorest
+laborer's children. Instead of the gold and silver bedsteads used by
+the nobles, they were obliged to sleep on the floor; if the court was
+at Babylon, they were forced to make long marches under the burning
+sun of Asia, and if, to escape the intense heat, the king removed
+to his summer palaces at Ecbatana and Pasargadae, situated in the
+mountainous regions of Persia, where it was often bitterly cold, the
+boys were ordered to bathe in the icy water of the rivers flowing from
+the heights. In place of the dainty dishes and sweetmeats for which
+Persian cooks were famous, they were allowed nothing but bread, water,
+and a little meat; sometimes to accustom them to hardships they were
+deprived entirely of food for a day or even longer.
+
+[Illustration: THE BOYS HURRIED OFF TOWARD HOME.]
+
+On this morning the exercises seemed specially long to the two
+brothers, full of anticipations of pleasure; but finally the last
+block of wood was hurled, the last arrow shot, the last wrestling
+match ended, and the boys, bearing a sealed roll of papyrus,
+containing a leave of absence for one day, hurried off towards home.
+
+Their father's palace stood at no great distance from the royal
+residence, on the long, wide street extending straight to the city
+gates, and like the houses of all the Persian nobles, was surrounded
+by a beautiful walled garden called a paradise, laid out with
+flower-beds of roses, poppies, oleanders, ornamental plants, adorned
+with fountains, and shaded by lofty trees.
+
+The hunting party was nearly ready to start, and the courtyard was
+thronged. Servants rushed to and fro bearing shields, swords, lances,
+bows and lassos, for a hunter was always equipped with bow and arrows,
+two lances, a sword and a shield. Others held in leash the dogs to be
+used in starting the game.
+
+The enormous preserves in the neighborhood of Babylon were well
+stocked with animals, including stags, wild boars, and a few lions.
+Several noblemen clad in the plain hunting costume always worn in the
+chase, were already mounted, among them the father of the two lads,
+who greeted them affectionately as they respectfully approached and
+kissed his hand.
+
+"Make haste, boys, your horses are ready. Take only bows and
+shields--the swords and lances will be in your way; you must not try
+to deal with larger game than you can manage with your arrows."
+
+"May we not carry daggers in our belts, too, father?" cried Otanes
+eagerly. "They can't be in our way, and if we should meet a lion--"
+
+A laugh from the group of nobles interrupted him. "Your son seeks
+large game, Intaphernes!" exclaimed a handsome officer. "He must have
+better weapons than a bow and dagger, if--"
+
+The rest of the sentence was drowned by the noise in the courtyard,
+but as the party rode towards the gate Intaphernes looked back: "Yes,
+take the daggers, it can do no harm. Keep with Candaules."
+
+The old slave, a gray-haired, but muscular man, with several other
+attendants, joined the lads, and the long train passed out into the
+street and toward the city gates. Otanes hastily whispered to his
+brother: "Keep close by me, Smerdis; if only we catch sight of a lion,
+we'll show what we can do with bows and arrows."
+
+The sun was now several hours high, and the streets, lined with tall
+brick houses, were crowded with people--artisans, slaves, soldiers,
+nobles and citizens, the latter clad in white linen shirts, gay
+woollen tunics and short cloaks. Two-wheeled wooden vehicles, drawn by
+horses decked with bells and tassels, litters containing veiled women
+borne by slaves, and now and then, the superb gilded carriage, hung
+with silk curtains, of some royal princess passed along. Here and
+there a heavily laden camel moved slowly by, and the next instant a
+soldier of the king's bodyguard dashed past in his superb uniform--a
+gold cuirass, purple surcoat, and high Persian cap, the gold scabbard
+of his sword and the gold apple on his lance-tip flashing in the sun.
+
+[Illustration: THE HUNTING PARTY WERE NEARLY READY TO START.]
+
+High above the topmost roofs of even the lofty towers on the walls
+rose the great sanctuary of the Magi,[1] the immense Temple of Bel,
+visible in all quarters of the city, and seen for miles from every
+part of the flat plain on which Babylon stood. The huge staircase
+wound like a serpent round and round the outside of the building to
+the highest story, which contained the sanctuary itself and also the
+observatory whence the priests studied the stars.
+
+[Footnote 1: The Magi were the Persian priests.]
+
+Otanes and Smerdis, chatting eagerly together, rode on as fast as
+the crowd would permit, and soon reached one of the gates in the huge
+walls that defended the city. These walls, seventy-five feet high, and
+wide enough to allow two chariots to drive abreast, were strengthened
+by two hundred and fifty towers, except on one side, where deep
+marshes extended to their base. Beyond these marshes lay the
+hunting-grounds, and the party, turning to the left, rode for a time
+over a smooth highway, between broad tracts of land sown with wheat,
+barley and sesame. Slender palm-trees covered with clusters of golden
+dates were seen in every direction, and the sunbeams shimmered on the
+canals and ditches which conducted water from the Euphrates to all
+parts of the fields.
+
+Otanes' horse suddenly shied violently as a rider, mounted on a fleet
+steed, and carrying a large pouch, dashed by like the wind.
+
+"One of the Augari bearing letters to the next station!" exclaimed
+Smerdis. "See how he skims along. Hi! If I were not to be one of the
+king's bodyguard, I'd try for an Augar's place. How he goes! He's
+almost out of sight already."
+
+"How far apart are the stations?" asked Otanes.
+
+"Eighteen miles. And when he gets there, he'll just toss the letter
+bag to the next man, who is sitting on a fresh horse waiting for it,
+and away _he'll_ go like lightning. That's the way the news is carried
+to the very end of the empire of our lord the King."
+
+"Must be fine fun," replied Otanes. "But see, there's the gate of the
+hunting-park. Now for the lion," he added gayly.
+
+"May Ormuzd[2] save you from meeting one, my young master," said the
+old servant, Candaules. "Luckily it's broad daylight, and they are
+more apt to come from their lairs after dark. Better begin with
+smaller game and leave the lion and wild boars to your father."
+
+[Footnote 2: The principal god of the Persians.]
+
+"Not if we catch sight of them," cried Otanes, settling his shield
+more firmly on his arm, and urging his horse to a quicker pace, for
+the head of the long train of attendants had already disappeared amid
+the dark cypress-trees of the hunting park. The immense enclosure
+stretching from the edge of the morasses that bordered the walls
+of Babylon far into the country, soon echoed with the shouts of the
+attendants beating the coverts for game, the baying of the dogs, the
+hiss of lances and whir of arrows. Bright-hued birds, roused by
+the tumult, flew wildly hither and thither, now and then the superb
+plumage of a bird of paradise flashing like a jewel among the dense
+foliage of cypress and nut-trees.
+
+Hour after hour sped swiftly away; the party had dispersed in
+different directions, following the course of the game; the sun was
+sinking low, and the slaves were bringing the slaughtered birds and
+beasts to the wagons used to convey them home. A magnificent stag was
+among the spoil, and a fierce wild boar, after a long struggle, had
+fallen under a thrust from Intaphernes's lance.
+
+The shrill blast of the Median trumpet sounded thrice, to give the
+first of the three signals for the scattered hunters to meet at the
+appointed place, near the entrance of the park, and the two young
+brothers who, attended by Candaules and half a dozen slaves, had
+ridden far into the shady recesses of the woods, reluctantly turned
+their horses' heads. No thought of disobeying the summons entered
+their minds--Persian boys were taught that next to truth and
+courage, obedience was the highest virtue, and rarely was a command
+transgressed.
+
+They had had a good day's sport; few arrows remained in their quivers,
+and the attendants carried bunches of gay plumaged birds and several
+small animals, among them a pretty little fawn. "Let's go nearer the
+marshes; there are not so many trees, and we can ride faster," said
+Otanes as the trumpet-call was repeated, and the little party turned
+in that direction, moving more swiftly as they passed out upon the
+strip of open ground between the thicket and the marshes. The sun was
+just setting. The last crimson rays, shimmering on the pools of water
+standing here and there in the morasses, cast reflections on the tall
+reeds and rushes bordering their margins.
+
+Suddenly a pretty spotted fawn darted in front of the group, and
+crossing the open ground, vanished amid a thick clump of reeds. "What
+a nice pet the little creature would make for our sister Hadassah!"
+cried Otanes eagerly. "See! it has hidden among the reeds; we might
+take it alive. Go with Candaules and the slaves, Smerdis, and form
+a half-circle beyond the clump. When you're ready, whistle, and I'll
+ride straight down and drive it towards you; you can easily catch it
+then. We are so near the entrance of the park now that we shall have
+plenty of time; the third signal hasn't sounded yet."
+
+Smerdis instantly agreed to the plan. The horses were fastened to some
+trees, and the men cautiously made a wide circuit, passed the bed of
+reeds, and concealed themselves, behind the tall rushes beyond. A low
+whistle gave Otanes the signal to drive out the fawn.
+
+Smerdis and the slaves saw the lad straighten himself in the saddle,
+and with a shout, dash at full speed towards the spot where the fawn
+had vanished. He had almost reached it when the stiff stalks shook
+violently, and a loud roar made them all spring to their feet. They
+saw the brave boy check his horse and fit an arrow to the string, but
+as he drew the bow, there was a stronger rustle among the reeds; a
+tawny object flashed through the air, striking Otanes from his saddle,
+while the horse free from its rider, dashed, snorting with terror,
+towards the park entrance.
+
+"A lion! A lion!" shrieked the trembling slaves, but Smerdis, drawing
+his dagger, ran towards the place where his brother had fallen,
+passing close by the body of the fawn which lay among the reeds with
+its head crushed by a blow from the lion's paw. Candaules followed
+close at the lad's heels.
+
+Parting the thick growth of stalks, they saw, only a few paces off,
+Otanes, covered with blood, lying motionless on the ground, and beside
+him the dead body of a half-grown lion, the boy's arrow buried in
+one eye, while the blood still streamed from the lance-wound in the
+animal's side.
+
+Smerdis, weeping, threw himself beside his brother, and at the same
+moment Intaphernes, with several nobles and attendants, attracted
+by the cries, dashed up to the spot. The father, springing from the
+saddle, bent, and laid his hand on the boy's heart.
+
+"It is beating still, and strongly too," he exclaimed. "Throw water in
+his face! perhaps--"
+
+Without finishing the sentence, he carefully examined the motionless
+form. "Ormuzd be praised! He has no wound; the blood has flowed from
+the lion. See, Prexaspes, there is a lance-head sticking in its side.
+I believe it's the very beast you wounded early in the day."
+
+The officer whose laugh had so vexed Otanes, stooped over the dead
+lion and looked at the broken shaft.
+
+"Ay, it's my weapon; the beast probably made its way to the morass for
+water; but, by Mithras![3] the lad's arrow killed the brute; the barb
+passed through the eyeball into the brain."
+
+[Footnote 3: The Persian god of the sun.]
+
+"Yes, my lord," cried old Candaules eagerly, "and doubtless it was
+only the weight of the animal, which, striking my young master as it
+made its spring, hurled him from the saddle and stunned him. See! he
+is opening his eyes. Otanes, Otanes, you've killed the lion!"
+
+The boy's eyelids fluttered, then slowly rose, his eyes wandered over
+the group, and at last rested on the dead lion. The old slave's words
+had evidently reached his ear, for with a faint smile he glanced
+archly at Prexaspes, and raising himself on one elbow, said:
+
+"You see, my lord--even with a bow and dagger!"
+
+MARY J. SAFFORD.
+
+
+
+
+DO YOU KNOW HIM?
+
+
+[Illustration: COULDN'T BEAR TO BE LAUGHED AT.]
+
+  There was once a small boy--he might measure four feet;
+    His conduct was perfectly splendid,
+  His manners were good, and his temper was sweet,
+  His teeth and his hair were uncommonly neat,
+    In fact he could not be amended.
+
+  His smile was so bright, and his word was so kind,
+    His hand was so quick to assist it,
+  His wits were so clever, his air so refined,
+  There was something so nice in him, body and mind,
+    That you never could try to resist it.
+
+
+
+
+THE WEAVER OF BRUGES.
+
+
+[Illustration]
+
+  The strange old streets of Bruges town
+    Lay white with dust and summer sun,
+  The tinkling goat bells slowly passed
+    At milking-time, ere day was done.
+
+  An ancient weaver, at his loom,
+    With trembling hands his shuttle plied,
+  While roses grew beneath his touch,
+    And lovely hues were multiplied.
+
+  The slant sun, through the open door,
+    Fell bright, and reddened warp and woof,
+  When with a cry of pain a little bird,
+    A nestling  stork, from off the roof,
+
+  Sore wounded, fluttered in and sat
+    Upon the old man's outstretched hand;
+  "Dear Lord," he murmured, under breath,
+    "Hast thou sent me this little friend?"
+
+  And to his lonely heart he pressed
+    The little one, and vowed no harm
+  Should reach it there; so, day by day,
+    Caressed and sheltered by his arm,
+
+  The young stork grew apace, and from
+    The loom's high beams looked down with eyes
+  Of silent love upon his ancient friend,
+    As two lone ones might sympathize.
+
+  At last the loom was hushed: no more
+    The deftly handled shuttle flew;
+  No more the westering sunlight fell
+    Where blushing silken roses grew.
+
+  And through the streets of Bruges town
+    By strange hands cared for, to his last
+  And lonely rest, 'neath darkening skies,
+    The ancient weaver slowly passed;
+
+  Then strange sight met the gaze of all:
+    A great white stork, with wing-beats slow,
+  Too sad to leave the friend he loved,
+    With drooping head, flew circling low,
+
+  And ere the trampling feet had left
+    The new-made mound, dropt slowly down,
+  And clasped the grave in his white wings
+    His pure breast on the earth so brown.
+
+  Nor food, nor drink, could lure him thence,
+    Sunrise nor fading sunsets red;
+  When little children came to see,
+    The great white stork--was dead.
+
+M.M.P. DINSMOOR.
+
+
+
+
+THE MAN IN THE TUB.
+
+
+  Come here, little folks, while I rub and I rub!
+  O, there once was a man who lived in a tub,
+  In a classical town far over the seas;
+  The name of this fellow was Diogenes.
+
+  And this is the story: it happened one day
+  That a wonderful king came riding that way;
+  Said he, to the man in the tub, "How d'ye do?
+  I'm Great Alexander; now, pray, who are you?"
+
+  O, yes, to be clean you must rub, you must rub!
+  Though he lived and he slept and ate in a tub,
+  This singular man, in towns where he halted,
+  History tells us was greatly exalted.
+
+  He rose in his tub: "I am Diogenes."
+  "Dear me," quoth the king, who'd been over the seas,
+  "I've heard of you often; now, what can I do
+  To aid such a wise individual as you?"
+
+  Could one expect manners, I ask, as I rub,
+  From a man quite content to live in a tub?
+  "Get out of my sunlight," growled Diogenes
+  To this affable king who'd been o'er the seas.
+
+MAY E. STONE.
+
+
+
+
+THE LITTLE GOLD MINERS OF THE SIERRAS.
+
+
+Their mother had died crossing the plains, and their father had had
+a leg broken by a wagon wheel passing over it as they descended
+the Sierras, and he was for a long time after reaching the mines
+miserable, lame and poor.
+
+The eldest boy, Jim Keene, as I remember him, was a bright little
+fellow, but wild as an Indian and full of mischief. The next eldest
+child, Madge, was a girl of ten, her father's favorite, and she was
+wild enough too. The youngest was Stumps. Poor, timid, starved Little
+Stumps! I never knew his real name. But he was the baby, and hardly
+yet out of petticoats. And he was very short in the legs, very short
+in the body, very short in the arms and neck; and so he was called
+Stumps because he looked it. In fact he seemed to have stopped
+growing entirely. Oh, you don't know how hard the old Plains were on
+everybody, when we crossed them in ox-wagons, and it took more than
+half a year to make the journey. The little children, those that did
+not die, turned brown like the Indians, in that long, dreadful journey
+of seven months, and stopped growing for a time.
+
+For the first month or two after reaching the Sierras, old Mr. Keene
+limped about among the mines trying to learn the mystery of finding
+gold, and the art of digging. But at last, having grown strong enough,
+he went to work for wages, to get bread for his half-wild little ones,
+for they were destitute indeed.
+
+Things seemed to move on well, then. Madge cooked the simple meals,
+and Little Stumps clung to her dress with his little pinched brown
+hand wherever she went, while Jim whooped it over the hills and chased
+jack-rabbits as if he were a greyhound. He would climb trees, too,
+like a squirrel. And, oh!--it was deplorable--but how he could swear!
+
+At length some of the miners, seeing the boy must come to some bad
+end if not taken care of, put their heads and their pockets together
+and sent the children to school. This school was a mile away over
+the beautiful brown hills, a long, pleasant walk under the green
+California oaks.
+
+Well, Jim would take the little tin dinner bucket, and his slate, and
+all their books under his arm and go booming ahead about half a mile
+in advance, while Madge with brown Little Stumps clinging to her side
+like a burr, would come stepping along the trail under the oak-trees
+as fast as she could after him.
+
+But if a jack-rabbit, or a deer, or a fox crossed Jim's path, no
+matter how late it was, or how the teacher had threatened him, he
+would drop books, lunch, slate and all, and spitting on his hands and
+rolling up his sleeves, would bound away after it, yelling like a
+wild Indian. And some days, so fascinating was the chase, Jim did
+not appear at the schoolhouse at all; and of course Madge and Stumps
+played truant too. Sometimes a week together would pass and the
+Keene children would not be seen at the schoolhouse. Visits from the
+schoolmaster produced no lasting effect. The children would come for a
+day or two, then be seen no more. The schoolmaster and their father at
+last had a serious talk about the matter.
+
+"What _can_ I do with him?" said Mr. Keene.
+
+"You'll have to put him to work," said the schoolmaster. "Set him to
+hunting nuggets instead of bird's-nests. I guess what the boy wants is
+some honest means of using his strength. He's a good boy, Mr. Keene;
+don't despair of him. Jim would be proud to be an 'honest miner.'
+Jim's a good boy, Mr. Keene."
+
+"Well, then, thank you, Schoolmaster," said Mr. Keene. "Jim's a good
+boy; and Madge is good, Mr. Schoolmaster; and poor starved and stunted
+motherless Little Stumps, he is good as gold, Mr. Schoolmaster. And I
+want to be a mother to 'em--I want to be father and mother to 'em all,
+Mr. Schoolmaster. And I'll follow your advice. I'll put 'em all to
+work a-huntin' for gold."
+
+The next day away up on the hillside under a pleasant oak, where
+the air was sweet and cool, and the ground soft and dotted over with
+flowers, the tender-hearted old man that wanted to be "father and
+mother both," "located" a claim. The flowers were kept fresh by a
+little stream of waste water from the ditch that girded the brow of
+the hill above. Here he set a sluice-box and put his three little
+miners at work with pick, pan and shovel. There he left them and
+limped back to his own place in the mine below.
+
+And how they did work! And how pleasant it was here under the broad
+boughs of the oak, with the water rippling through the sluice on the
+soft, loose soil which they shoveled into the long sluice-box. They
+could see the mule-trains going and coming, and the clouds of dust far
+below which told them the stage was whirling up the valley. But Jim
+kept steadily on at his work day after day. Even though jack-rabbits
+and squirrels appeared on the very scene, he would not leave till,
+like the rest of the honest miners, he could shoulder his pick and pan
+and go down home with the setting sun.
+
+Sometimes the men who had tried to keep the children at school, would
+come that way, and with a sly smile, talk very wisely about whether
+or not the new miners would "strike it" under the cool oak among the
+flowers on the hill. But Jim never stopped to talk much. He dug and
+wrestled away, day after day, now up to his waist in the pit.
+
+One Saturday evening the old man limped up the hillside to help the
+young miners "clean up."
+
+[Illustration: "COLOR! TWO COLORS! THREE, FOUR, FIVE--A DOZEN!"]
+
+He sat down at the head of the sluice-box and gave directions how they
+should turn off the most of the water, wash down the "toilings" very
+low, lift up the "riffle," brush down the "apron," and finally set the
+pan in the lower end of the "sluice-toil" and pour in the quicksilver
+to gather up and hold the gold.
+
+"What for you put your hand in de water for, papa?" queried Little
+Stumps, who had left off his work, which consisted mainly of pulling
+flowers and putting them in the sluice-box to see them float away. He
+was sitting by his father's side, and he looked up in his face as he
+spoke.
+
+"Hush, child," said the old man softly, as he again dipped his thumb
+and finger in his vest pocket as if about to take snuff. But he did
+not take snuff. Again his hand was reached down to the rippling water
+at the head of the sluice-box. And this time curious but obedient
+Little Stumps was silent.
+
+Suddenly there was a shout, such a shout from Jim as the hills had not
+heard since he was a schoolboy.
+
+He had found the "color." "Two colors! three, four, five--a dozen!"
+The boy shouted like a Modoc, threw down the brush and scraper, and
+kissed his little sister over and over, and cried as he did so; then
+he whispered softly to her as he again took up his brush and scraper,
+that it was "for papa; all for poor papa; that he did not care for
+himself, but he did want to help poor, tired, and crippled papa." But
+papa did not seem to be excited so very much.
+
+The little miners were now continually wild with excitement. They
+were up and at work Monday morning at dawn. The men who were in the
+father's tender secret, congratulated the children heartily and made
+them presents of several small nuggets to add to their little hoard.
+
+In this way they kept steadily at work for half the summer. All the
+gold was given to papa to keep. Papa weighed it each week, and I
+suppose secretly congratulated himself that he was getting back about
+as much as he put in.
+
+Before quite the end of the third month, Jim struck a thin bed of blue
+gravel. The miners who had been happily chuckling and laughing among
+themselves to think how they had managed to keep Jim out of mischief,
+began to look at each other and wonder how in the world blue gravel
+ever got up there on the hill. And in a few days more there was a
+well-defined bed of blue gravel, too; and not one of the miners could
+make it out.
+
+One Saturday evening shortly after, as the old man weighed their gold
+he caught his breath, started, and stood up straight; straighter than
+he had stood since he crossed the Plains. Then he hastily left the
+cabin. He went up the hill to the children's claim almost without
+limping. Then he took a pencil and an old piece of a letter, and wrote
+out a notice and tacked it up on the big oak-tree, claiming those
+mining claims according to miners' law, for the three children. A
+couple of miners laughed as they went by in the twilight, to see what
+he was doing; and he laughed with them. But as he limped on down the
+hill he smiled.
+
+That night as they sat at supper, he told the children that as they
+had been such faithful and industrious miners, he was going to give
+them each a present, besides a little gold to spend as they pleased.
+
+So he went up to the store and bought Jim a red shirt, long black and
+bright gum boots, a broad-brimmed hat, and a belt. He also bought each
+of the other children some pretty trappings, and gave each a dollar's
+worth of gold dust. Madge and Stumps handed their gold back to "poor
+papa." But Jim was crazy with excitement. He put on his new clothes
+and went forth to spend his dollar. And what do you suppose he bought?
+I hesitate to tell you. But what he bought was a pipe and a paper of
+tobacco!
+
+That red shirt, that belt and broad-brimmed hat, together with the
+shiny top boots, had been too much for Jim's balance. How could a
+man--he spoke of himself as a man now--how could a man be an "honest
+miner" and not smoke a pipe?
+
+And now with his manly clothes and his manly pipe he was to be so
+happy! He had all that went to make up "the honest miner." True, he
+did not let his father know about the pipe. He hid it under his pillow
+at night. He meant to have his first smoke at the sluice-box, as a
+miner should.
+
+Monday morning he was up with the sun and ready for his work. His
+father, who worked down the Gulch, had already gone before the
+children had finished their breakfast. So now Jim filled his bran-new
+pipe very leisurely; and with as much calm unconcern as if he had been
+smoking for forty years, he stopped to scratch a match on the door as
+he went out.
+
+From under his broad hat he saw his little sister watching him, and
+he fairly swelled with importance as Stumps looked up at him with
+childish wonder. Leaving Madge to wash the few tin dishes and follow
+as she could with Little Stumps, he started on up the hill, pipe in
+mouth.
+
+He met several miners, but he puffed away like a tug-boat against the
+tide, and went on. His bright new boots whetted and creaked together,
+the warm wind lifted the broad brim of his _sombrero_, and his bright
+new red shirt was really beautiful, with the green grass and oaks
+for a background--and so this brave young man climbed the hill to his
+mine. Ah, he was so happy!
+
+Suddenly, as he approached the claim, his knees began to smite
+together, and he felt so weak he could hardly drag one foot after the
+other. He threw down his pick; he began to tremble and spin around.
+The world seemed to be turning over and over, and he trying in vain to
+hold on to it. He jerked the pipe from his teeth, and throwing it down
+on the bank, he tumbled down too, and clutching at the grass with both
+hands tried hard, oh! so hard, to hold the world from slipping from
+under him.
+
+"Oh, Jim! you are white as snow," cried Madge as she came up.
+
+"White as 'er sunshine, an' blue, an' green too, sisser. Look at
+brurrer 'all colors,'" piped Little Stumps pitifully.
+
+"O, Jim, Jim--brother Jim, what is the matter?" sobbed Madge.
+
+"Sunstroke," murmured the young man, smiling grimly, like a true
+Californian. "No; it is not sunstroke, it's--it's cholera," he added
+in dismay over his falsehood.
+
+Poor boy! he was sorry for this second lie too. He fairly groaned in
+agony of body and soul.
+
+Oh, how he did hate that pipe! How he did want to get up and jump on
+it and smash it into a thousand pieces! But he could not get up or
+turn around or move at all without betraying his unmanly secret.
+
+A couple of miners came up, but Jim feebly begged them to go.
+
+"Sunstroke," whispered the sister.
+
+"No; tolera," piped poor Little Stumps.
+
+"Get out! Leave me!" groaned the young red-shirted miner of the
+Sierras.
+
+The biggest of the two miners bent over him a moment.
+
+"Yes; it's both," he muttered. "Cholera-nicotine-fantum!" Then he
+looked at his partner and winked wickedly. Without a word, he took
+the limp young miner up in his arms and bore him down the hill to his
+father's cabin, while Stumps and Madge ran along at either side, and
+tenderly and all the time kept asking what was good for "cholera."
+
+The other old "honest miner" lingered behind to pick up the baleful
+pipe which he knew was somewhere there; and when the little party
+was far enough down the hill, he took it up and buried it in his own
+capacious pocket with a half-sorrowful laugh. "Poor little miner," he
+sighed.
+
+"Don't ever swear any more, Windy," pleaded the boy to the miner who
+had carried him down the hill, as he leaned over him, "and don't never
+lie. I am going to die, Windy, and I should like to be good. Windy, it
+_ain't_ sunstroke, it's" ...
+
+[Illustration: HE TOOK THE LIMP YOUNG MINER IN HIS ARMS.]
+
+"Hush yer mouth," growled Windy. "I know what 'tis! We've left it on
+the hill."
+
+The boy turned his face to the wall. The conviction was strong upon
+him that he was going to die, The world spun round now very, very fast
+indeed. Finally, half-rising in bed, he called Little Stumps to his
+side:
+
+"Stumps, dear, good Little Stumps, if I die don't you never try for to
+smoke; for that's what's the matter with me. No, Stumps--dear little
+brother Stumps--don't you never try for to go the whole of the 'honest
+miner,' for it can't be did by a boy! We're nothing but boys, you and
+I, Stumps--Little Stumps."
+
+He sank back in bed and Little Stumps and his sister cried and cried,
+and kissed him and kissed him.
+
+The miners who had gathered around loved him now, every one, for
+daring to tell the truth and take the shame of his folly so bravely.
+
+"I'm going to die, Windy," groaned the boy.
+
+Windy could stand no more of it. He took Jim's hand with a cheery
+laugh. "Git well in half an hour," said he, "now that you've out with
+the truth."
+
+And so he did. By the time his father came home he was sitting up; and
+he ate breakfast the next morning as if nothing had happened. But he
+never tried to smoke any more as long as he lived. And he never lied,
+and he never swore any more.
+
+Oh, no! this Jim that I have been telling you of is "Moral Jim," of
+the Sierras. The mine? Oh, I almost forgot. Well, that blue dirt was
+the old bed of the stream, and it was ten times richer than where the
+miners were all at work below. Struck it! I should say so! Ask any of
+the old Sierras miners about "The Children's Claim," if you want to
+hear just how rich they struck it.
+
+JOAQUIN MILLER.
+
+
+
+
+OLD GODFREY'S RELIC.
+
+
+  A simple, upright man was he,
+    Of spirit undefiled,
+  Cheerful and hale at seventy-three,
+    As any blithesome child.
+
+  Old Godfrey's friends and neighbors felt
+    His due was honest praise;
+  Ofttimes how fervently they dwelt
+    On his brave words and ways!
+
+  He had no foeman in the land
+    Whose deeds or tongue would gall;
+  Of guileless heart, of liberal hand,
+    He smiled on one and all.
+
+  But most, I think, he smiled on me;
+    "Your eyes, dear boy," he said,
+  "Remind me, though not mournfully,
+    Of eyes whose light is dead."
+
+  How oft beneath his roof I've been
+    On eves of wintry blight,
+  And heard his magic violin
+    Make musical the night.
+
+  No consort by his board was set,
+    No child his hearth had known,
+  Yet of all souls I've ever met,
+    His seemed the least alone.
+
+[Illustration: Keen Memories of the Thrilling Years That Thronged His
+Ocean Life.]
+
+  What stories in my eager ears
+    He poured of peace or strife;
+  Keen memories of the thrilling years
+    That thronged his ocean life.
+
+  And oh, he showed such marvellous things
+    From unknown sea and shore,
+  That, brimmed with strange imaginings,
+    My boy's brain bubbled o'er!
+
+  It wandered back o'er many a track
+    Of his old life-toil free;
+  The enchanted calm, the fiery wrack,
+    Far off, far off at sea!
+
+  For once he dared the watery world,
+    O'er wild or halcyon waves,
+  And saw his snow-white sails unfurled
+    Above a million graves.
+
+  Northward he went, thro' ice and sleet,
+    Where soon the sunbeams fail,
+  And followed with an armed fleet
+    The wide wake of the whale.
+
+  Southward he went through airs serene
+    Of soft Sicilian noon,
+  And sang, on level decks, between
+    The twilight and the moon.
+
+  But once--it was a tranquil time,
+    An evening half divine,
+  When the low breeze like murmurous rhyme
+    Sighed through the sunset fine.
+
+  Once, Godfrey from the secret place
+    Wherein his treasures lay,
+  Brought forth, with calmly museful face,
+    This relic to the day--
+
+  A soft tress with a silken tie,
+    A brightly shimmering curl;
+  Such as might shadow goldenly
+    The fair brow of a girl.
+
+  "Oh, lovelier," cried I, "than the dawn
+    Auroral mists enfold,
+  The long and luminous threadlets drawn
+    Through this rich curl of gold!
+
+  "Tell, tell me, o'er whose graceful head
+    You saw the ringlet shine?"
+  Thereon the old man coolly said,
+    "_Why, lad, the tress is mine!_
+
+  "Look not amazed, but come with me,
+    And let me tell you where
+  And how, one morning fearfully,
+    I lost that lock of hair."
+
+  He led me past his cottage screen
+    Of flowers, far down the wood
+  Where, towering o'er the landscape green,
+    A centuried oak-tree stood.
+
+  "Here is the place," he said, "whereon
+    Heaven helped me in sore strait,
+  And in a March morn's radiance wan
+    Turned back the edge of fate!
+
+  "My father a stout yeoman was,
+    And I, in childish pride,
+  That morning through the dew-drenched grass,
+    Walked gladly by his side,
+
+  "Till _here_ he paused, with glittering steel,
+    A prostrate trunk to smite;
+  How the near woodland seemed to reel
+    Beneath his blows of might!
+
+  "And round about me viciously
+    The splinters flashed and flew;
+  Some sharply grazed the shuddering eye,
+    Some pattered down the dew.
+
+  "Childlike, I strove to pick them up,
+    But stumbling forward, sunk,
+  O'er the wild pea and buttercup,
+    Across the smitten trunk.
+
+  "Just then, with all its ponderous force
+    The axe was hurtling down;
+  What spell could stay its savage course?
+    What charm could save my crown?
+
+  "Too late, too late to stop the blow;
+    I shrieked to see it come;
+  My father's blood grew cold as snow;
+    My father's voice was dumb.
+
+  "He staggered back a moment's space,
+    Glaring on earth and skies;
+  Blank horror in his haggard face,
+    Dazed anguish in his eyes.
+
+  "He searched me close to find my wound;
+    He searched with sobbing breath;
+  But not the smallest gateway found
+    Opened to welcome death.
+
+  "He thanked his God in ardent wise,
+    Kneeling 'twixt shine and shade;
+  Then lowered his still half-moistened eyes
+    O'er the keen axe's blade.
+
+  "_Two hairs clung to it!_... thence, he turned
+    Where the huge log had rolled,
+  And there in tempered sunlight burned
+    A quivering curl of gold.
+
+  "The small thing looked alive!... it stirred
+    By breeze and sunbeam kissed,
+  And fluttered like an Orient bird,
+    Half-glimpsed through sunrise mist.
+
+  "Oh! keen and sheer the axe-edge smote
+    The perfect curl apart!
+  Even _now_, through tingling head and throat,
+    I feel the old terror dart.
+
+  "My father kept his treasure long,
+    'Mid seasons grave or gay,
+  Till to death's plaintive curfew-song,
+    Calmly he passed away.
+
+  "I, too, the token still so fair,
+    Have held with tendance true;
+  And dying, this memorial hair
+    I'll leave, dear lad, to you!"
+
+PAUL H. HAYNE.
+
+
+
+
+EVAN COGWELL'S ICE FORT.
+
+
+In the early days of Northern Ohio, when settlers were few and far
+between, Evan Cogswell, a Welsh lad of sixteen years, found his way
+thither and began his career as a laborer, receiving at first but two
+dollars a month in addition to his board and "home-made" clothing. He
+possessed an intelligent, energetic mind in a sound and vigorous body,
+and had acquired in his native parish the elements of an education in
+both Welsh and English.
+
+The story of his life, outlined in a curious old diary containing
+the records of sixty-two years, and an entry for more than twenty-two
+thousand days, would constitute a history of the region, and some of
+its passages would read like high-wrought romance.
+
+His first term of service was with a border farmer on the banks of a
+stream called Grand River, in Ashtabula County. It was rather crude
+farming, however, consisting mostly of felling trees, cutting wood and
+saw-logs, burning brush, and digging out stumps, the axe and pick-axe
+finding more use than ordinary farm implements.
+
+Seven miles down the river, and on the opposite bank, lived the
+nearest neighbors, among them a blacksmith who in his trade served
+the whole country for twenty miles around. One especial part of his
+business was the repairing of axes, called in that day "jumping," or
+"upsetting."
+
+In midwinter Evan's employer left a couple of axes with the blacksmith
+for repairs, the job to be done within a week. At this time the
+weather was what is termed "settled," with deep snow, and good
+"slipping" along the few wildwood roads.
+
+But three or four days later, there came a "January thaw." Rain and a
+warmer temperature melted away much of the snow, the little river was
+swelled to a great torrent, breaking up the ice and carrying it down
+stream, and the roads became almost impassable. When the week was up
+and the farmer wanted the axes, it was not possible for the horse to
+travel, and after waiting vainly for a day or two for a turn in the
+weather, Evan was posted off on foot to obtain the needed implements.
+Delighting in the change and excitement of such a trip, the boy
+started before noon, expecting to reach home again ere dark, as it was
+not considered quite safe to journey far by night on account of the
+wolves.
+
+Three miles below, at a narrow place in the river, was the bridge,
+consisting of three very long tree-trunks reaching parallel from bank
+to bank, and covered with hewn plank. When Evan arrived here he found
+that this bridge had been swept away. But pushing on down stream
+among the thickets, about half a mile below, he came upon an immense
+ice-jam, stretching across the stream and piled many feet high. Upon
+this he at once resolved to make his way over to the road on the
+other side, for he was already wearied threading the underbrush. Grand
+River, which is a narrow but deep and violent stream, ran roaring
+and plunging beneath the masses of ice as if enraged at being so
+obstructed; but the lad picked his path in safety and soon stood on
+the opposite bank.
+
+Away he hurried now to the blacksmith's, so as to complete his errand
+and return by this precarious crossing before dark.
+
+But the smith had neglected his duty and Evan had to wait an hour or
+more for the axes. At length they were done, and with one tied at each
+end of a strong cord and this hung about his neck, he was off on the
+homeward trip. To aid his walking, he procured from the thicket a
+stout cane. He had hardly gone two miles when the duskiness gathering
+in the woods denoted the nearness of night; yet as the moon was riding
+high, he pushed on without fear.
+
+[Illustration: HOMEWARD. SAFELY INTRENCHED.]
+
+But as he was skirting a wind-fall of trees, he came suddenly upon two
+or three wolves apparently emerging from their daytime hiding place
+for a hunting expedition. Evan was considerably startled; but as
+they ran off into the woods as if afraid of him, he took courage in
+the hope that they would not molest him. In a few minutes, however,
+they set up that dismal howling by which they summon their mates and
+enlarge their numbers; and Evan discovered by the sounds that they
+were following him cautiously at no great distance.
+
+Frequent responses were also heard from more distant points in the
+woods and from across the river. By this time it was becoming quite
+dark, the moonlight penetrating the forest only along the roadway
+and in occasional patches among the trees on either side. The rushing
+river was not far away, but above its roar arose every instant
+the threatening howl of a wolf. Finally, just as he reached the
+ice-bridge, the howling became still, a sign that their numbers
+emboldened them to enter in earnest on the pursuit. The species
+of wolf once so common in the central States, and making the early
+farmers so much trouble, were peculiar in this respect; they were
+great cowards singly, and would trail the heels of a traveler howling
+for recruits, and not daring to begin the attack until they had
+collected a force that insured success; then they became fierce and
+bold, and more to be dreaded than any other animal of the wilderness.
+And at this point, when they considered their numbers equal to the
+occasion, the howling ceased.
+
+Evan had been told of this, and when the silence began, he knew its
+meaning, and his heart shuddered at the prospect. His only hope lay
+in the possibility that they might not dare to follow him across the
+ice-bridge. But this hope vanished as he approached the other shore,
+and saw by the moonlight several of the gaunt creatures awaiting
+him on that side. What should he do? No doubt they would soon muster
+boldness to follow him upon the ice, and then his fate would be sealed
+in a moment.
+
+In the emergency he thought of the axes, and taking them from his
+neck, cut the cord, and thrust his walking-stick into one as a helve,
+resolved to defend himself to the last.
+
+At this instant he espied among the thick, upheaved ice-cakes two
+great fragments leaning against each other in such a way as to form a
+roof with something like a small room underneath. Here he saw his only
+chance. Springing within, he used the axe to chip off other fragments
+with which to close up the entrance, and almost quicker than it can
+be told, had thus constructed a sort of fort, which he believed would
+withstand the attack of the wolves. At nightfall the weather had
+become colder, and he knew that in a few minutes the damp pieces of
+ice would be firmly cemented together.
+
+Hardly had he lifted the last piece to its place, when the pack came
+rushing about him, snapping and snarling, but at first not testing the
+strength of his intrenchment. When soon they began to spring against
+it, and snap at the corners of ice, the frost had done its work, and
+they could not loosen his hastily built wall.
+
+Through narrow crevices he could look out at them, and at one time
+counted sixteen grouped together in council. As the cold increased he
+had to keep in motion in order not to freeze, and any extra action on
+his part increased the fierceness of the wolves. At times they would
+gather in a circle around him, and after sniffing at him eagerly, set
+up a doleful howling, as if deploring the excellent supper they had
+lost.
+
+Ere long one of them found an opening at a corner large enough to
+admit its head; but Evan was on the alert, and gave it such a blow
+with the axe as to cause its death. Soon another tried the same thing,
+and met with the same reception, withdrawing and whirling around
+several times, and then dropping dead with a broken skull.
+
+One smaller than the rest attempting to enter, and receiving the fatal
+blow, crawled, in its dying agony, completely into the enclosure, and
+lay dead at Evan's feet. Of this he was not sorry, as his feet were
+bitterly cold, and the warm carcass of the animal served to relieve
+them.
+
+In the course of the night six wolves were killed as they sought to
+creep into his fortress, and several others so seriously hacked as
+to send them to the woods again; and, however correct the notion that
+when on the hunt they devour their fallen comrades, in this case they
+did no such thing, as in the morning the six dead bodies lay about
+on the ice, and Evan had the profitable privilege of taking off their
+skins.
+
+Of his thoughts during the night, a quotation from his diary is
+quaintly suggestive and characteristic.
+
+"I bethought me of the wars of Glendower, which I have read about, and
+the battle of Grosmont Castle; and I said, 'I am Owen Glendower;
+this is my castle; the wolves are the army of Henry; but I will never
+surrender or yield as did Glendower.'"
+
+Toward morning, as the change of weather continued, and the waters of
+the river began to diminish, there was suddenly a prodigious crack and
+crash of the ice-bridge, and the whole mass settled several inches.
+At this the wolves took alarm, and in an instant fled. Perhaps they
+might have returned had not the crackling of the ice been repeated
+frequently.
+
+At length Evan became alarmed for his safety, lest the ice should
+break up in the current, and bringing his axe to bear, soon burst
+his way out and fled to the shore. But not seeing the ice crumble, he
+ventured back to obtain the other axe, and then hastened home to his
+employer.
+
+During the day he skinned the wolves, and within a fortnight pocketed
+the bounty money, amounting in all to about one hundred and fifty
+dollars. With this money he made the first payment on a large farm,
+which he long lived to cultivate and enjoy, and under the sod of which
+he found a quiet grave.
+
+IRVING L. BEMAN.
+
+
+
+
+HOW THEY BROUGHT THE GOOD NEWS FROM GHENT TO AIX.
+
+
+  I sprang to the stirrup, and Joris and he:
+  I galloped, Dirck galloped, we galloped all three;
+  "Good speed!" cried the watch as the gate-bolts undrew,
+  "Speed!" echoed the wall to us galloping through.
+  Behind shut the postern, the lights sank to rest,
+  And into the midnight we galloped abreast.
+
+  Not a word to each other; we kept the great pace--
+  Neck by neck, stride by stride, never changing our place;
+  I turned in my saddle and made its girths tight,
+  Then shortened each stirrup and set the pique right,
+  Rebuckled the check-strap, chained slacker the bit,
+  Nor galloped less steadily Roland a whit.
+
+  'Twas moonset at starting; but while we drew near
+  Lokeren, the cocks crew and twilight dawned clear;
+  At Boom a great yellow star came out to see;
+  At Dueffeld 'twas morning as plain as could be;
+  And from Mechlin church-steeple we heard the half-chime--
+  So Joris broke silence with "Yet there is time!"
+
+  At Aerschot up leaped of a sudden the sun,
+  And against him the cattle stood black every one,
+  To stare through the mist at us galloping past;
+  And I saw my stout galloper Roland at last
+  With resolute shoulders, each butting away
+  The haze, as some bluff river headland its spray;
+
+  And his low head and crest, just one sharp ear bent back
+  For my voice, and the other pricked out on his track,
+  And one eye's black intelligence--ever that glance
+  O'er its white edge at me, his own master, askance;
+  And the thick heavy spume-flakes, which aye and anon
+  His fierce lips shook upwards in galloping on.
+
+  By Hasselt, Dirck groaned; and cried Joris, "Stay spur!
+  Your Roos galloped bravely, the fault's not in her;
+  We'll remember at Aix"--for one heard the quick wheeze
+  Of her chest, saw the stretched neck and staggering knees,
+  And sunk tail, and horrible heave of the flank,
+  As down on her haunches she shuddered and sank.
+
+  So we were left galloping, Joris and I,
+  Past Looz and past Tongres, no cloud in the sky;
+  The broad sun above laughed a pitiless laugh;
+  'Neath our feet broke the brittle bright stubble like chaff;
+  Till over by Delhem a dome-spire sprung white,
+  And "Gallop," gasped Joris, "for Aix is in sight!
+
+  "How they'll greet us!" and all in a moment his roan
+  Rolled neck and croup over, lay dead as a stone;
+  And there was my Roland to bear the whole weight
+  Of the news which alone could save Aix from her fate,
+  With his nostrils like pits full of blood to the brim,
+  And with circles of red for his eye-sockets' rim.
+
+  Then I cast loose my buff-coat, each holster let fall,
+  Shook off both my jack-boots, let go belt and all,
+  Stood up in the stirrup, leaned, patted his ear,
+  Called my Roland his pet name, my horse without peer--
+  Clapped my hands, laughed and sung, any noise, bad or good,
+  Till at length into Aix, Roland galloped and stood.
+
+  And all I remember is friends flocking round,
+  As I sate with his head twixt my knees on the ground;
+  And no voice but was praising this Roland of mine
+  As I poured down his throat our last measure of wine,
+  Which (the burgesses voted by common consent)
+  Was no more than his due who brought good news from Ghent.
+
+ROBERT BROWNING.
+
+
+
+
+A HERO.
+
+(_A STORY OF THE AMERICAN REVOLUTION._)
+
+
+They were sitting by the great blazing wood-fire. It was July, but
+there was an east wind and the night was chilly. Besides, Mrs. Heath
+had a piece of fresh pork to roast. Squire Blake had "killed" the
+day before--that was the term used to signify the slaughter of any
+domestic animal for food--and had distributed the "fresh" to various
+families in town, and Mrs. Heath wanted hers for the early breakfast.
+Meat was the only thing to be had in plenty--meat and berries. Wheat
+and corn, and vegetables even, were scarce. There had been a long
+winter, and then, too, every family had sent early in the season all
+they could possibly spare to the Continental army. As to sugar and tea
+and molasses, it was many a day since they had had even the taste of
+them.
+
+The piece of pork was suspended from the ceiling by a stout string,
+and slowly revolved before the fire, Dorothy or Arthur giving it a
+fresh start when it showed signs of stopping. There was a settle
+at right angles with the fireplace, and here the little cooks sat,
+Dorothy in the corner nearest the fire, and Arthur curled up on the
+floor at her feet, where he could look up the chimney and see the
+moon, almost at the full, drifting through the sky. At the opposite
+corner sat Abram, the hired man and faithful keeper of the family in
+the absence of its head, at work on an axe helve, while Bathsheba, or
+"Basha," as she was briefly and affectionately called, was spinning in
+one corner of the room just within range of the firelight.
+
+There was no other light--the firelight being sufficient for their
+needs--and it was necessary to economize in candles, for any day a
+raid from the royal army might take away both cattle and sheep,
+and then where would the tallow come from for the annual fall
+candle-making? There was a rumor--Abram had brought it home that very
+day--that the royal army were advancing, and red coats might make
+their appearance in Hartland at any time. Arthur and Dorothy were
+talking about it, as they turned the roasting fork.
+
+"Wish I was a man," said Arthur, glancing towards his mother, who was
+sitting in a low splint chair knitting stockings for her boy's winter
+wear. "I'd like to shoot a red coat."
+
+"O Arty!" exclaimed Dorothy reproachfully; "you're always thinking of
+shooting! Now _I_ should like to nurse a sick soldier and wait upon
+him. Poor soldiers! it was dreadful what papa wrote to mamma about
+them."
+
+"Would you nurse a red coat?" asked Arthur, indignantly.
+
+"Yes," said Dorothy. "Though of course I should rather, a great deal
+rather, nurse one of our own soldiers. But, Arty," continued the
+little elder sister, "papa says if we must fight, why, we must fight
+bravely, but that we can be brave without fighting."
+
+"Well, I mean to be a hero, and heroes always fight. King Arthur
+fought. Papa said so. He and his knights fought for the Sangreal,
+and liberty is our Sangreal. I'm glad my name is Arthur, anyhow, for
+Arthur means noble and high," he said, lifting his bright boyish face
+with its steadfast blue eyes, and glancing again towards his mother.
+She gave an answering smile.
+
+"I hope my boy will always be noble and high in thought and deed. But,
+as papa said, to be a hero one does not need to fight, at least, not
+to fight men. We can fight bad tempers and bad thoughts and cowardly
+impulses. They who fight these things successfully are the truest
+heroes, my boy."
+
+"Ah, but mamma, didn't I hear you tell grandmamma how you were proud
+of your hero. That's what you called papa when General Montgomery
+wrote to you, with his own hand, how he drove back the enemy at the
+head of his men, while the balls were flying and the cannons roaring
+and flashing; and when his horse was shot under him how he struggled
+out and cheered on his men, on foot, and the bullets whizzed and the
+men fell all around him, and he wasn't hurt and"--Here the boy stopped
+abruptly and sprang impulsively forward, for his mother's cheek had
+suddenly grown pale.
+
+"True grit!" remarked Abram to Basha, in an undertone, as she paused
+in her walk to and fro by the spinning-wheel to join a broken thread.
+"But there never was a coward yet, man or woman, 'mong the Heaths,
+an' I've known 'em off an' on these seventy year. Now there was ole
+Gineral Heath," he continued, holding up the axe helve and viewing it
+critically with one eye shut, "he was a marster hand for fightin'. Fit
+the Injuns 's though he liked it. That gun up there was his'n."
+
+"Tell us about the 'sassy one,'" said Arthur, turning at the word gun.
+
+"Youngster, 'f I've told yer that story once, I've told yer fifty
+times," said Abram.
+
+"Tell it again," said the boy eagerly. "And take down the gun, too."
+
+Abram got up as briskly as his seventy years and his rheumatism would
+permit, and took down the gun from above the mantel-piece. It was a
+very large one.
+
+"Not quite so tall as the old Gineral himself," said Abram, "but a
+purty near to it. This gun is 'bout seven feet, an' yer gran'ther was
+seven feet two--a powerful built man. Wall, the Injuns had been mighty
+obstreperous 'long 'bout that time, burnin' the Widder Brown's house
+and her an' her baby a-hidin' in a holler tree near by, an' carryin'
+off critters an' bosses, an' that day yer gran'ther was after 'em with
+a posse o' men, an' what did that pesky Injun do but git up on a rock
+a quarter o' a mile off an' jestickerlate in an outrigerous manner,
+like a sarcy boy, an' yer grand'ther, he took aim and fired, an' that
+impident Injun jest tumbel over with a yell; his last, mind ye, and
+good enough for him!"
+
+"I like to hear about old gran'ther," said Arthur.
+
+As Abram was restoring the gun to its place upon the hooks, a sound
+was heard at the side door--a sound as of a heavy body falling against
+it, which startled them all. The dog Caesar rose, and going to the door
+which opened into the side entry, sniffed along the crack above the
+threshold. Apparently satisfied, he barked softly, and rising on his
+hind legs lifted the latch and sprang into the entry. Abram followed
+with Basha. As he lifted the latch of the outer door--the string had
+been drawn in early, as was the custom in those troublous time--and
+swung it back, the light from the fire fell upon the figure of a man
+lying across the doorstone.
+
+"Sakes alive!" exclaimed Abram, drawing back. But at a word from the
+mistress, they lifted the man and brought him in and laid him down on
+the braided woollen mat before the fire. Then for a moment there was
+silence, for he wore the dress of a British soldier, and his right arm
+was bandaged. He had fainted from loss of blood, apparently--perhaps
+from hunger. Basha loosened his coat at the throat, and tried to force
+a drop or two of "spirits" into his mouth, while Mrs. Heath rubbed his
+hands.
+
+"He ain't dead," said Basha, in a grim tone, "and mind you, we'll
+see trouble from this." Basha was an arrant rebel, and hated the
+very sight of a red coat. "What are you doing here," she continued,
+addressing him, "killin' honest folks, when you'd better 've staid
+cross seas in yer own country?"
+
+"Basha!" said Mrs. Heath reprovingly, "he is helpless."
+
+But Basha as she unwound the tight bandage from the shattered arm,
+kept muttering to herself like a rising tempest, until at length the
+man having come quite to himself, detected her feeling, and with great
+effort said, "I am _not_ a British soldier."
+
+"Then what to goodness have you got on their uniform for?" queried
+Basha.
+
+Little by little the pitiful story was told. He was an American
+soldier who had been doing duty as a spy in the British camp. Up to
+the very last day of his stay he had not been suspected; but trying to
+get away he was suspected, challenged, and fired at. The shot passed
+through his arm. He was certain his pursuers had followed him till
+night, and they would be likely to continue the search the next day,
+and he begged Mrs. Heath to secrete him for a day or two, if possible.
+
+"I wouldn't mind being shot, marm," he said, "but you know they'll
+hang me if they get me. Of course I risked it when I went into their
+camp, but it's none the pleasanter for all that."
+
+Now in the old Heath house there was a secret chamber, built in the
+side of the chimney. Most of those old colonial houses had enormous
+chimneys, that took up, sometimes, a quarter of the ground occupied
+by the house, so it was not a difficult thing to enclose a small
+space with slight danger of its existence being detected. This chimney
+chamber in the Heath house was little more than a closet eight feet by
+four. It was entered from the north chamber, Abram's room, through a
+narrow sliding panel that looked exactly like the rest of the wall,
+which was of cedar boards. An inch-wide shaft running up the side
+of the chimney ventilated the closet, and it was lighted by a window
+consisting of three small panes of glass carefully concealed under the
+projecting roof. In a sunny day one could see to read there easily.
+
+A small cot-bed was now carried into this room, and up there, after
+his wound had been dressed by Basha, who, like many old-time women,
+was skilful in dressing wounds and learned in the properties of herbs
+and roots, and he had been fed and bathed, the soldier was taken; and
+a very grateful man he was as he settled himself upon the comfortable
+bed and looked up with a smiling "thank you," into Basha's face, which
+was no longer grim and forbidding.
+
+All this time no special notice had been taken of Dorothy and Arthur.
+They had followed about to watch the bathing, feeding and tending,
+and when Mrs. Heath turned to leave the secret chamber, she found
+them behind her, staring in with very wide-open eyes indeed; for, if
+you can believe it, they never before had even heard of, much less
+seen, this lovely little secret chamber. It was never deemed wise in
+colonial families to talk about these hiding-places, which sometimes
+served so good a purpose, and I doubt if many adults in the town of
+Hartland knew of this secret chamber in the Heath house.
+
+The panel was closed, and Abram was left to care for the wounded
+soldier through the night. It was nine o'clock, the colonial hour for
+going to bed, and long past the children's hour, and Dotty and Arthur
+in their prayers by their mother's knee, put up a petition for the
+safety of the stranger.
+
+"_Would_ they hang him if they could get him, mamma?" asked Arty.
+
+"Certainly," she replied. "It is one of the rules of warfare. A spy is
+always hung."
+
+In the morning, from nine to eleven, Mrs. Heath always devoted to the
+children's lessons. Arthur, who was eleven, was a good Latin scholar.
+He was reading _Caesar's Commentaries_, and he liked it--that is, he
+liked the story part. He found some of it pretty tough reading, and
+I need not tell you boys who have read Caesar, what parts those were.
+They had English readings from the _Spectator_, and from Bishop
+Leighton's works, books which you know but little about. Dotty had
+a daily lesson in botany, and very pleasant hours those school hours
+were.
+
+After dinner, at twelve, they had the afternoon for play. That
+afternoon, the day after the soldier came, they went berrying. They
+did this almost every day during berry time, so as to have what they
+liked better than anything for supper--berries and milk. Occasionally
+they had huckleberry "slap-jacks," also a favorite dish, for
+breakfast; not often, however, as flour was scarce.
+
+They went for berries down the road known as South Lane, a lonely
+place, but where berries grew plentifully. Their mother had cautioned
+them not to talk about the occurrence of the night before, as some one
+might overhear, and so, though they talked about their play and their
+studies, about papa and his soldiers, they said nothing about _the_
+soldier.
+
+[Illustration: "Tell Me, My Little Man," Said He, "Where You Saw the
+British Uniform."]
+
+They had nearly filled their baskets, when a growl from Caesar startled
+them, and turning, they saw two horsemen who had stopped near by,
+one of whom was just springing from his horse. They were in British
+uniform, and the children at once were sure what they wanted.
+
+"O Arty, Arty!" whispered Dorothy. "They've come, and we mustn't
+tell."
+
+The man advanced with a smile meant to be pleasant, but which was in
+reality so sinister that the children shrank with a sensation of fear.
+
+"How are you, my little man? Picking berries, eh? And where do you
+live?" he asked.
+
+"With mamma," answered Arthur promptly.
+
+"And who is mamma? What is her name?"
+
+"Mrs. Heath," said Arty.
+
+"And don't you live with papa too? Where is papa?" the man asked.
+
+Arthur hesitated an instant, and then out it came, and proudly too.
+"In the Continental army, sir."
+
+"Ho! ho! and so we are a little rebel, are we?" laughed the man. "And
+who am I? Do you know?"
+
+"Yes, sir; a British soldier."
+
+"How do you know that?"
+
+"Because you wear their uniform, sir?"
+
+"You cannot have seen many British soldiers here," said the man. "Did
+you ever see the British uniform before?"
+
+"Yes, sir," replied Arty.
+
+"And where did you see it?" he asked, glancing sharply at Arthur and
+then at Dorothy. Upon the face of the latter was a look of dismay, for
+she had foreseen the drift of the man's questions and the trap into
+which Arty had fallen. He, too, saw it, now he was in. The only
+British uniform he had ever seen was that worn by the American spy.
+For a brief moment he was tempted to tell a lie. Then he said firmly,
+"I cannot tell you, sir."
+
+"Cannot! Does that mean will not?" said the man threateningly. Then
+he put his hand into his pocket and took out a bright gold sovereign,
+which he held before Arthur.
+
+"Come, now, my little man, tell me where you saw the British soldier's
+uniform, and you shall have this gold piece."
+
+But all the noble impulses of the boy's nature, inherited and
+strengthened by his mother's teachings, revolted at this attempt to
+bribe him. His eyes flashed. He looked the man full in the face. "I
+will not!" said he.
+
+"Come, come!" cried out the man on horseback. "Don't palter any longer
+with the little rebel. We'll find a way to make him tell. Up with
+him!"
+
+In an instant the man had swung Arthur into his saddle, and leaping up
+behind him, struck spurs to his horse and dashed away. Caesar, who had
+been sniffing about, suspicious, but uncertain, attempted to leap upon
+the horseman in the rear, but he, drawing his pistol from his saddle,
+fired, and Caesar dropped helpless.
+
+The horsemen quickly vanished, and for a moment Dorothy stood pale and
+speechless. Then she knelt down by Caesar, examined his wound--he was
+shot in the leg--and bound it up with her handkerchief, just as she
+saw Basha do the night before, and then putting her arms around his
+neck she kissed him. "Be patient, dear old Caesar, and Abram shall come
+for you!"
+
+Covered with dust, her frock stained with Caesar's blood, a pitiful
+sight indeed was Dorothy as she burst into the kitchen where Basha was
+preparing supper.
+
+"O mamma, they've carried off Arty and shot Caesar, those dreadful,
+dreadful British!"
+
+Between her sobs she told the whole fearful story to the two
+women--fearful, I say, for Mrs. Heath knew too well the reputed
+character of the British soldiery, not to fear the worst if her boy
+should persist in refusing to tell where he had seen the British
+soldier's uniform. But even in her distress she was conscious of a
+proud faith that he would not betray his trust.
+
+As to Basha, who shall describe her horror and indignation? "The
+wretches! ain't they content to murder our men and burn our houses,
+that they must take our innercent little boys?" and she struck the
+spit into the chicken she was preparing for supper vindictively, as
+though thus she would like to treat the whole British army. "The dear
+little cretur! what'll he do to-night without his mamma, and him never
+away from her a night in his blessed life. 'Pears to me the Lord's
+forgot the Colonies. O dearie, dearie me!" utterly overcome she
+dropped into a chair, and throwing her homespun check apron over
+her head, she gave way to such a fit of weeping as astonished and
+perplexed Abram, one of whose principal articles of faith it was that
+Basha couldn't shed a tear, even if she tried, "more'n if she's made
+o' cast iron."
+
+It indeed looked hopeless. Who was to follow after these men and
+rescue Arthur? There was hardly any one left in town but old men,
+women and children.
+
+Mrs. Heath thought of this as she soothed Dorothy, coaxed her to eat a
+little supper, and then sat by her side until she fell asleep. She sat
+by the fire while the embers died out, or walked up and down the long,
+lonely kitchen, wrestling, like Jacob, in prayer, for her boy, until
+long after midnight.
+
+And now let us follow Arthur's fortunes. The men galloped hard and
+long over hills, through valleys and woods, so far away it seemed
+to the little fellow he could never possibly see mamma or Dorothy
+again. At last they drew up at a large white house, evidently the
+headquarters of the officers, and Arthur was put at once into a dark
+closet and there left. He was tired and dreadfully hungry, so hungry
+that he could think of hardly anything else. He heard the rattling of
+china and glasses, and knew they were at supper. By and by a servant
+came and took him into the supper room. His eyes were so dazzled at
+first by the change from the dark closet to the well-lighted room,
+that he could scarcely see. But when the daze cleared he found himself
+standing near the head of the table, where sat a stout man with a red
+face, a fierce mustache, and an evil pair of eyes.
+
+He looked at Arthur a moment. Then he poured out a glass of wine and
+pushed it towards him: "Drink!"
+
+But Arthur did not touch the glass.
+
+"Drink, I say," he repeated impatiently. "Do you hear?"
+
+"I have promised mamma never to drink wine," was the low response.
+
+It seemed to poor Arthur as though everything had combined against
+him. It was bad enough to have to say no to the question about the
+uniform, and now here was something else that would make the men still
+more angry with him. But the officer did not push his command; he
+simply thrust the glass one side and said, "Now, my boy, we're going
+to get that American spy and hang him. You know where he is and you've
+got to tell us, or it will be the worse for you. Do you want to see
+your mother again?"
+
+Arthur did not answer. He could not have answered just then. A big
+bunch came into his throat. Cry? Not before these men. So he kept
+silence.
+
+"Obstinate little pig! speak!" thundered the officer, bringing his
+great brawny fist down upon the table with a blow that set the glasses
+dancing. "Will you tell me where that spy is?"
+
+"No, sir," came in very low, but very firm tones. I will not tell
+you the dreadful words of that officer, as he turned to his servant
+with the command, "Put him down cellar, and we'll see to him in the
+morning. They're all alike, men, women and children. Rebellion in the
+very blood. The only way to finish it is to spill it without mercy."
+
+Now there was one thing that Arthur, brave as he was, feared, and that
+was--rats! Left on a heap of dry straw, he began to wonder if there
+were rats there. Presently he was sure he heard something move, but
+he was quickly reassured by the touch of soft, warm fur on his hand,
+and the sound of a melodious "pur-r." The friendly kitty, glad of a
+companion, curled herself by his side. What comfort she brought to
+the lonely little fellow! He lay down beside her, and saying his _Our
+Father_, and _Now I Lay Me_, was soon in a profound sleep, the purring
+little kitty nestling close.
+
+The sounds of revelry in the rooms above did not disturb him. The
+boisterous songs and laughter, the stamping of many feet, continued
+far into the night. At last they ceased; and when everything had been
+for a long time silent, the door leading to the cellar was softly
+opened and a lady came down the stairway. I have often wished that
+I might paint her as she looked coming down those stairs. Arthur was
+afterwards my great-grandfather, you know, and he told me this story
+when I was a young girl in my teens. He told me how lovely this lady
+was.
+
+Her gown was of some rich stuff that shimmered in the light of the
+candle she carried, and rustled musically as she walked. There was
+a flash of jewels at her throat and on her hands. She had wrapped a
+crimson mantle about her head and shoulders. Her eyes were like stars
+on a summer's night, sparkling with a veiled radiance, and as she
+stood and looked down upon the sleeping boy, a smile, sweet, but full
+of a profound sadness, played upon her lips. Then a determined look
+came into her bright eyes.
+
+He stirred in his sleep, laughed out, said "mamma," and then opened
+his eyes. She stooped and touched his lips with her finger. "Hush!
+Speak only in a whisper. Eat this, and then I will take you to your
+mother."
+
+After he had eaten, she wrapped a cloak about him, and together they
+stole up and out past the sleeping, drunken sentinel, to the stables.
+She lead out a white horse, her own horse, Arthur was sure, for the
+creature caressed her with his head, and as she saddled him she talked
+to him in low tones, sweet, musical words of some foreign tongue. The
+handsome horse seemed to understand the necessity of silence, for
+he did not even whinny to the touch of his mistress' hand, and trod
+daintily and noiselessly as she led him to the mounting block, his
+small ears pricking forward and backward, as though knowing the need
+of watchful listening.
+
+Leaping to the saddle and stooping, she lifted Arthur in front of her,
+and with a word they were off. A slow walk at first, and then a rapid
+canter. Arthur never forgot that long night ride with the beautiful
+lady on the white horse, over the country flooded with the brilliancy
+of the full moon. Once or twice she asked him if he was cold, as she
+drew the cloak more closely about him, and sometimes she would murmur
+softly to herself words in that silvery, foreign tongue. As they drew
+near Hartland, she asked him to point out his father's house, and
+when they were quite near, only a little distance off, she stopped the
+horse.
+
+"I leave you here, you brave, darling boy," she said. "Kiss me once,
+and then jump down. And don't forget me."
+
+Arthur threw his arms around her neck and kissed her, first on one
+cheek and then on the other, and looking up into the beautiful face
+with its starry eyes, said:
+
+"I will never, never forget you, for you are the loveliest lady I ever
+saw--except mamma."
+
+She laughed a pleased laugh, like a child, then took a ring from her
+hand and put it on one of Arthur's fingers. Her hand was so slender it
+fitted his chubby little hand very well.
+
+"Keep this," she said, "and by and by give it to some lady good and
+true, like mamma."
+
+"Will you be punished?" he said, keeping her hand. She laughed again,
+with a proud, daring toss of her dainty head, and rode away.
+
+Arthur watched her out of sight, and then turned towards home. Mrs.
+Heath was still keeping her lonely watch, when the latch of the outer
+door was softly lifted--nobody had the heart to take in the string
+with Arty outside--the inner door swung noiselessly back, and the
+blithe voice said, "Mamma! mamma! here I am, and I didn't tell."
+
+All that day, and the next, and the next, the Heath household were in
+momentary expectation of the coming of the red coats to search for the
+spy. Dorothy and Arthur, and sometimes Abram, did picket duty to give
+seasonable warning of their approach. But they never came. In a few
+days news was brought that the British forces, on the very morning
+after Arthur's return, had made a rapid retreat before an advance of
+the Federal troops, and never again was a red coat seen in Hartland.
+The spy got well in great peace and comfort under Basha's nursing, and
+went back again to do service in the Continental army, and Dotty used
+to say, "You did learn, didn't you, Arty, how a person, even a little
+boy, can be a hero without fighting, just as mamma said?"
+
+
+
+
+[Illustration: Teddy the Teazer, A Moral Story with a Velocipede
+Attachment, by M.E.B.]
+
+TEDDY THE TEAZER
+
+A MORAL STORY WITH A VELOCIPEDE ATTACHMENT
+
+
+  He wanted a velocipede,
+    And shook his saucy head;
+  He thought of it in daytime,
+    He dreamed of it in bed,
+  He begged for it at morning,
+    He cried for it at noon,
+  And even in the evening
+    He sang the same old tune.
+
+  He wanted a velocipede!
+    It was no use to say
+  He was too small to manage it,
+    Or it might run away,
+  Or crack his little occiput,
+    Or break his little leg--
+  It made no bit of difference,
+    He'd beg, and beg, and beg.
+
+  He wanted a velocipede,
+    A big one with a gong
+  To startle all the people,
+    As they saw him speed along;
+  A big one, with a cushion,
+    And painted red and black,
+  To make the others jealous
+    And clear them off the track.
+
+  He wanted a velocipede,
+    The largest ever built,
+  Though he was only five years old
+    And wore a little kilt,
+  And hair in curls a-waving,
+    And sashes by his side,
+  And collars wide as cart-wheels,
+    Which hurt his manly pride!
+
+  He wanted a velocipede
+    With springs of burnished steel;
+  He knew the way to work it--
+    The treadle for the wheel,
+  The brake to turn and twist it,
+    The crank to make it stop,
+  My! hadn't he been riding
+    For days, with Jimmy Top?
+
+  He wanted a velocipede!
+    Why, he was just as tall
+  As six-year-old Tom Tucker,
+    Who wasn't very small!
+  And feel his muscle, will you?
+    And tell him, if you dare,
+  That he's the sort of fellow
+    To get a fall, or scare?
+
+  They got him a velocipede;
+    I really do not know
+  How they could ever do it,
+    But then, he teased them so,
+  And so abused their patience,
+    And dulled their nerves of right,
+  That they just lost their senses
+    And brought it home one night.
+
+  They bought him a velocipede--
+    O woe the day and hour!
+  When proudly seated on it,
+    In pomp of pride and power,
+  His foot upon the treadle,
+    With motion staid and slow
+  He turned upon his axle,
+    And made the big thing go.
+
+  Alas, for the velocipede!
+    The way ran down a hill--
+  The whirling wheels went faster,
+    And fast, and faster still,
+  Until, like flash of rocket,
+    Or shooting star at night,
+  They crossed the dim horizon
+    And rattled out of sight.
+
+  So vanished the velocipede,
+    With him who rode thereon;
+  And no one, since that dreadful day,
+    Has found out where 'tis gone!
+  Except a floating rumor
+    Which some stray wind doth blow.
+  When the long nights of winter
+    Are white with frost and snow,
+  Of a small fleeting shadow,
+    That seems to run astray
+  Upon a pair of flying wheels,
+    Along the Milky Way.
+
+  And this they think is Teddy!
+    Doomed for all time to speed--
+  A wretched little phantom boy,
+    On a velocipede!
+
+M.E.B.
+
+[Illustration]
+
+
+
+
+JOJO'S PETITION.
+
+
+  Golden-haired Jojo, at his mother's knee,
+    Nestles each night his baby prayer to say:
+  "Bless papa and mamma! make Ned and me
+    Good little boys!" he has been taught to pray.
+
+  Grandmamma was very sick one weary day,
+    And Jojo shared with us our anxious care;
+  So the dear child, when he knelt down to pray,
+    Seemed to think Grandma must be in his prayer.
+
+  And sure the dear Lord did not fail to hear
+    Sharer alike of sorrows and of joys--
+  When he said, "Bless papa and my mamma dear,
+    And make me an' Gran'ma an' Neddy good boys!"
+
+RUTH HALL.
+
+
+
+***END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK OUR BOYS***
+
+
+******* This file should be named 16171.txt or 16171.zip *******
+
+
+This and all associated files of various formats will be found in:
+https://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/1/6/1/7/16171
+
+
+
+Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions
+will be renamed.
+
+Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no
+one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation
+(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without
+permission and without paying copyright royalties.  Special rules,
+set forth in the General Terms of Use part of this license, apply to
+copying and distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works to
+protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm concept and trademark.  Project
+Gutenberg is a registered trademark, and may not be used if you
+charge for the eBooks, unless you receive specific permission.  If you
+do not charge anything for copies of this eBook, complying with the
+rules is very easy.  You may use this eBook for nearly any purpose
+such as creation of derivative works, reports, performances and
+research.  They may be modified and printed and given away--you may do
+practically ANYTHING with public domain eBooks.  Redistribution is
+subject to the trademark license, especially commercial
+redistribution.
+
+
+
+*** START: FULL LICENSE ***
+
+THE FULL PROJECT GUTENBERG LICENSE
+PLEASE READ THIS BEFORE YOU DISTRIBUTE OR USE THIS WORK
+
+To protect the Project Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting the free
+distribution of electronic works, by using or distributing this work
+(or any other work associated in any way with the phrase "Project
+Gutenberg"), you agree to comply with all the terms of the Full Project
+Gutenberg-tm License (available with this file or online at
+https://gutenberg.org/license).
+
+
+Section 1.  General Terms of Use and Redistributing Project Gutenberg-tm
+electronic works
+
+1.A.  By reading or using any part of this Project Gutenberg-tm
+electronic work, you indicate that you have read, understand, agree to
+and accept all the terms of this license and intellectual property
+(trademark/copyright) agreement.  If you do not agree to abide by all
+the terms of this agreement, you must cease using and return or destroy
+all copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in your possession.
+If you paid a fee for obtaining a copy of or access to a Project
+Gutenberg-tm electronic work and you do not agree to be bound by the
+terms of this agreement, you may obtain a refund from the person or
+entity to whom you paid the fee as set forth in paragraph 1.E.8.
+
+1.B.  "Project Gutenberg" is a registered trademark.  It may only be
+used on or associated in any way with an electronic work by people who
+agree to be bound by the terms of this agreement.  There are a few
+things that you can do with most Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works
+even without complying with the full terms of this agreement.  See
+paragraph 1.C below.  There are a lot of things you can do with Project
+Gutenberg-tm electronic works if you follow the terms of this agreement
+and help preserve free future access to Project Gutenberg-tm electronic
+works.  See paragraph 1.E below.
+
+1.C.  The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation ("the Foundation"
+or PGLAF), owns a compilation copyright in the collection of Project
+Gutenberg-tm electronic works.  Nearly all the individual works in the
+collection are in the public domain in the United States.  If an
+individual work is in the public domain in the United States and you are
+located in the United States, we do not claim a right to prevent you from
+copying, distributing, performing, displaying or creating derivative
+works based on the work as long as all references to Project Gutenberg
+are removed.  Of course, we hope that you will support the Project
+Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting free access to electronic works by
+freely sharing Project Gutenberg-tm works in compliance with the terms of
+this agreement for keeping the Project Gutenberg-tm name associated with
+the work.  You can easily comply with the terms of this agreement by
+keeping this work in the same format with its attached full Project
+Gutenberg-tm License when you share it without charge with others.
+
+1.D.  The copyright laws of the place where you are located also govern
+what you can do with this work.  Copyright laws in most countries are in
+a constant state of change.  If you are outside the United States, check
+the laws of your country in addition to the terms of this agreement
+before downloading, copying, displaying, performing, distributing or
+creating derivative works based on this work or any other Project
+Gutenberg-tm work.  The Foundation makes no representations concerning
+the copyright status of any work in any country outside the United
+States.
+
+1.E.  Unless you have removed all references to Project Gutenberg:
+
+1.E.1.  The following sentence, with active links to, or other immediate
+access to, the full Project Gutenberg-tm License must appear prominently
+whenever any copy of a Project Gutenberg-tm work (any work on which the
+phrase "Project Gutenberg" appears, or with which the phrase "Project
+Gutenberg" is associated) is accessed, displayed, performed, viewed,
+copied or distributed:
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
+
+1.E.2.  If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is derived
+from the public domain (does not contain a notice indicating that it is
+posted with permission of the copyright holder), the work can be copied
+and distributed to anyone in the United States without paying any fees
+or charges.  If you are redistributing or providing access to a work
+with the phrase "Project Gutenberg" associated with or appearing on the
+work, you must comply either with the requirements of paragraphs 1.E.1
+through 1.E.7 or obtain permission for the use of the work and the
+Project Gutenberg-tm trademark as set forth in paragraphs 1.E.8 or
+1.E.9.
+
+1.E.3.  If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is posted
+with the permission of the copyright holder, your use and distribution
+must comply with both paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 and any additional
+terms imposed by the copyright holder.  Additional terms will be linked
+to the Project Gutenberg-tm License for all works posted with the
+permission of the copyright holder found at the beginning of this work.
+
+1.E.4.  Do not unlink or detach or remove the full Project Gutenberg-tm
+License terms from this work, or any files containing a part of this
+work or any other work associated with Project Gutenberg-tm.
+
+1.E.5.  Do not copy, display, perform, distribute or redistribute this
+electronic work, or any part of this electronic work, without
+prominently displaying the sentence set forth in paragraph 1.E.1 with
+active links or immediate access to the full terms of the Project
+Gutenberg-tm License.
+
+1.E.6.  You may convert to and distribute this work in any binary,
+compressed, marked up, nonproprietary or proprietary form, including any
+word processing or hypertext form.  However, if you provide access to or
+distribute copies of a Project Gutenberg-tm work in a format other than
+"Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other format used in the official version
+posted on the official Project Gutenberg-tm web site (www.gutenberg.org),
+you must, at no additional cost, fee or expense to the user, provide a
+copy, a means of exporting a copy, or a means of obtaining a copy upon
+request, of the work in its original "Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other
+form.  Any alternate format must include the full Project Gutenberg-tm
+License as specified in paragraph 1.E.1.
+
+1.E.7.  Do not charge a fee for access to, viewing, displaying,
+performing, copying or distributing any Project Gutenberg-tm works
+unless you comply with paragraph 1.E.8 or 1.E.9.
+
+1.E.8.  You may charge a reasonable fee for copies of or providing
+access to or distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works provided
+that
+
+- You pay a royalty fee of 20% of the gross profits you derive from
+     the use of Project Gutenberg-tm works calculated using the method
+     you already use to calculate your applicable taxes.  The fee is
+     owed to the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark, but he
+     has agreed to donate royalties under this paragraph to the
+     Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation.  Royalty payments
+     must be paid within 60 days following each date on which you
+     prepare (or are legally required to prepare) your periodic tax
+     returns.  Royalty payments should be clearly marked as such and
+     sent to the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation at the
+     address specified in Section 4, "Information about donations to
+     the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation."
+
+- You provide a full refund of any money paid by a user who notifies
+     you in writing (or by e-mail) within 30 days of receipt that s/he
+     does not agree to the terms of the full Project Gutenberg-tm
+     License.  You must require such a user to return or
+     destroy all copies of the works possessed in a physical medium
+     and discontinue all use of and all access to other copies of
+     Project Gutenberg-tm works.
+
+- You provide, in accordance with paragraph 1.F.3, a full refund of any
+     money paid for a work or a replacement copy, if a defect in the
+     electronic work is discovered and reported to you within 90 days
+     of receipt of the work.
+
+- You comply with all other terms of this agreement for free
+     distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm works.
+
+1.E.9.  If you wish to charge a fee or distribute a Project Gutenberg-tm
+electronic work or group of works on different terms than are set
+forth in this agreement, you must obtain permission in writing from
+both the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation and Michael
+Hart, the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark.  Contact the
+Foundation as set forth in Section 3 below.
+
+1.F.
+
+1.F.1.  Project Gutenberg volunteers and employees expend considerable
+effort to identify, do copyright research on, transcribe and proofread
+public domain works in creating the Project Gutenberg-tm
+collection.  Despite these efforts, Project Gutenberg-tm electronic
+works, and the medium on which they may be stored, may contain
+"Defects," such as, but not limited to, incomplete, inaccurate or
+corrupt data, transcription errors, a copyright or other intellectual
+property infringement, a defective or damaged disk or other medium, a
+computer virus, or computer codes that damage or cannot be read by
+your equipment.
+
+1.F.2.  LIMITED WARRANTY, DISCLAIMER OF DAMAGES - Except for the "Right
+of Replacement or Refund" described in paragraph 1.F.3, the Project
+Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation, the owner of the Project
+Gutenberg-tm trademark, and any other party distributing a Project
+Gutenberg-tm electronic work under this agreement, disclaim all
+liability to you for damages, costs and expenses, including legal
+fees.  YOU AGREE THAT YOU HAVE NO REMEDIES FOR NEGLIGENCE, STRICT
+LIABILITY, BREACH OF WARRANTY OR BREACH OF CONTRACT EXCEPT THOSE
+PROVIDED IN PARAGRAPH F3.  YOU AGREE THAT THE FOUNDATION, THE
+TRADEMARK OWNER, AND ANY DISTRIBUTOR UNDER THIS AGREEMENT WILL NOT BE
+LIABLE TO YOU FOR ACTUAL, DIRECT, INDIRECT, CONSEQUENTIAL, PUNITIVE OR
+INCIDENTAL DAMAGES EVEN IF YOU GIVE NOTICE OF THE POSSIBILITY OF SUCH
+DAMAGE.
+
+1.F.3.  LIMITED RIGHT OF REPLACEMENT OR REFUND - If you discover a
+defect in this electronic work within 90 days of receiving it, you can
+receive a refund of the money (if any) you paid for it by sending a
+written explanation to the person you received the work from.  If you
+received the work on a physical medium, you must return the medium with
+your written explanation.  The person or entity that provided you with
+the defective work may elect to provide a replacement copy in lieu of a
+refund.  If you received the work electronically, the person or entity
+providing it to you may choose to give you a second opportunity to
+receive the work electronically in lieu of a refund.  If the second copy
+is also defective, you may demand a refund in writing without further
+opportunities to fix the problem.
+
+1.F.4.  Except for the limited right of replacement or refund set forth
+in paragraph 1.F.3, this work is provided to you 'AS-IS', WITH NO OTHER
+WARRANTIES OF ANY KIND, EXPRESS OR IMPLIED, INCLUDING BUT NOT LIMITED TO
+WARRANTIES OF MERCHANTIBILITY OR FITNESS FOR ANY PURPOSE.
+
+1.F.5.  Some states do not allow disclaimers of certain implied
+warranties or the exclusion or limitation of certain types of damages.
+If any disclaimer or limitation set forth in this agreement violates the
+law of the state applicable to this agreement, the agreement shall be
+interpreted to make the maximum disclaimer or limitation permitted by
+the applicable state law.  The invalidity or unenforceability of any
+provision of this agreement shall not void the remaining provisions.
+
+1.F.6.  INDEMNITY - You agree to indemnify and hold the Foundation, the
+trademark owner, any agent or employee of the Foundation, anyone
+providing copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in accordance
+with this agreement, and any volunteers associated with the production,
+promotion and distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works,
+harmless from all liability, costs and expenses, including legal fees,
+that arise directly or indirectly from any of the following which you do
+or cause to occur: (a) distribution of this or any Project Gutenberg-tm
+work, (b) alteration, modification, or additions or deletions to any
+Project Gutenberg-tm work, and (c) any Defect you cause.
+
+
+Section  2.  Information about the Mission of Project Gutenberg-tm
+
+Project Gutenberg-tm is synonymous with the free distribution of
+electronic works in formats readable by the widest variety of computers
+including obsolete, old, middle-aged and new computers.  It exists
+because of the efforts of hundreds of volunteers and donations from
+people in all walks of life.
+
+Volunteers and financial support to provide volunteers with the
+assistance they need, is critical to reaching Project Gutenberg-tm's
+goals and ensuring that the Project Gutenberg-tm collection will
+remain freely available for generations to come.  In 2001, the Project
+Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation was created to provide a secure
+and permanent future for Project Gutenberg-tm and future generations.
+To learn more about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation
+and how your efforts and donations can help, see Sections 3 and 4
+and the Foundation web page at https://www.gutenberg.org/fundraising/pglaf.
+
+
+Section 3.  Information about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive
+Foundation
+
+The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation is a non profit
+501(c)(3) educational corporation organized under the laws of the
+state of Mississippi and granted tax exempt status by the Internal
+Revenue Service.  The Foundation's EIN or federal tax identification
+number is 64-6221541.  Contributions to the Project Gutenberg
+Literary Archive Foundation are tax deductible to the full extent
+permitted by U.S. federal laws and your state's laws.
+
+The Foundation's principal office is located at 4557 Melan Dr. S.
+Fairbanks, AK, 99712., but its volunteers and employees are scattered
+throughout numerous locations.  Its business office is located at
+809 North 1500 West, Salt Lake City, UT 84116, (801) 596-1887, email
+business@pglaf.org.  Email contact links and up to date contact
+information can be found at the Foundation's web site and official
+page at https://www.gutenberg.org/about/contact
+
+For additional contact information:
+     Dr. Gregory B. Newby
+     Chief Executive and Director
+     gbnewby@pglaf.org
+
+Section 4.  Information about Donations to the Project Gutenberg
+Literary Archive Foundation
+
+Project Gutenberg-tm depends upon and cannot survive without wide
+spread public support and donations to carry out its mission of
+increasing the number of public domain and licensed works that can be
+freely distributed in machine readable form accessible by the widest
+array of equipment including outdated equipment.  Many small donations
+($1 to $5,000) are particularly important to maintaining tax exempt
+status with the IRS.
+
+The Foundation is committed to complying with the laws regulating
+charities and charitable donations in all 50 states of the United
+States.  Compliance requirements are not uniform and it takes a
+considerable effort, much paperwork and many fees to meet and keep up
+with these requirements.  We do not solicit donations in locations
+where we have not received written confirmation of compliance.  To
+SEND DONATIONS or determine the status of compliance for any
+particular state visit https://www.gutenberg.org/fundraising/donate
+
+While we cannot and do not solicit contributions from states where we
+have not met the solicitation requirements, we know of no prohibition
+against accepting unsolicited donations from donors in such states who
+approach us with offers to donate.
+
+International donations are gratefully accepted, but we cannot make
+any statements concerning tax treatment of donations received from
+outside the United States.  U.S. laws alone swamp our small staff.
+
+Please check the Project Gutenberg Web pages for current donation
+methods and addresses.  Donations are accepted in a number of other
+ways including including checks, online payments and credit card
+donations.  To donate, please visit:
+https://www.gutenberg.org/fundraising/donate
+
+
+Section 5.  General Information About Project Gutenberg-tm electronic
+works.
+
+Professor Michael S. Hart was the originator of the Project Gutenberg-tm
+concept of a library of electronic works that could be freely shared
+with anyone.  For thirty years, he produced and distributed Project
+Gutenberg-tm eBooks with only a loose network of volunteer support.
+
+Project Gutenberg-tm eBooks are often created from several printed
+editions, all of which are confirmed as Public Domain in the U.S.
+unless a copyright notice is included.  Thus, we do not necessarily
+keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper edition.
+
+Most people start at our Web site which has the main PG search facility:
+
+     https://www.gutenberg.org
+
+This Web site includes information about Project Gutenberg-tm,
+including how to make donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary
+Archive Foundation, how to help produce our new eBooks, and how to
+subscribe to our email newsletter to hear about new eBooks.
+