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You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: Harper's Young People, February 24, 1880 + An Illustrated Weekly + +Author: Various + +Release Date: March 19, 2009 [EBook #28362] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK HARPER'S YOUNG PEOPLE, FEB 24, 1880 *** + + + + +Produced by Annie McGuire + + + + + +</pre> + + +<div class='center'> +<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" summary=""> +<tr><td align='left'><a href="#TRACKING_A_BURIED_RIVER"><b>TRACKING A BURIED RIVER.</b></a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><a href="#BIDDY_ODOLAN"><b>BIDDY O'DOLAN.</b></a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><a href="#NEW_YORK_PRISONS_IN_1776-77"><b>NEW YORK PRISONS IN 1776-77.</b></a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><a href="#ZACHUR_WITH_THE_SACK"><b>ZACHUR WITH THE SACK.</b></a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><a href="#THE_DIFFERENCE"><b>THE DIFFERENCE.</b></a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><a href="#A_PEEP_INTO_ROYAL_TREASURIES"><b>A PEEP INTO ROYAL TREASURIES.</b></a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><a href="#WINGED_FREEBOOTERS"><b>WINGED FREEBOOTERS.</b></a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><a href="#UNCLE_PHILS_THIMBLE"><b>UNCLE PHIL'S THIMBLE.</b></a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><a href="#LIFE_ON_BOARD_A_TRAINING-SHIP"><b>LIFE ON BOARD A TRAINING-SHIP.</b></a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><a href="#OUR_POST_OFFICE_BOX"><b>OUR POST-OFFICE BOX</b></a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><a href="#THE_FIRE-FLY_GAME"><b>THE FIRE-FLY GAME.</b></a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><a href="#CHARADE"><b>CHARADE.</b></a></td></tr> +</table></div> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_201" id="Page_201">[Pg 201]</a></span></p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 1000px;"> +<img src="images/ill_001.jpg" width="1000" height="387" alt="Banner: Harper's Young People" title="" /> +</div> + +<hr style='width: 100%;' /> + +<div class='center'> +<table border="0" cellpadding="4" cellspacing="0" width="100%" summary=""> +<tr><td align='left'><span class="smcap">Vol</span>. I.—<span class="smcap">No</span>. 17.</td><td align='center'><span class="smcap">Published by HARPER & BROTHERS, New York</span>.</td><td align='right'><span class="smcap">Price Four Cents</span>.</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Tuesday, February 24, 1880.</td><td align='center'>Copyright, 1880, by <span class="smcap">Harper & Brothers</span>.</td><td align='right'>$1.50 per Year, in Advance.</td></tr> +</table></div> + +<hr style='width: 100%;' /> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 700px;"> +<img src="images/ill_002.jpg" width="700" height="490" alt="COLD MORNING IN A COUNTRY SCHOOL." title="" /> +<span class="caption">COLD MORNING IN A COUNTRY SCHOOL.</span> +</div> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="TRACKING_A_BURIED_RIVER" id="TRACKING_A_BURIED_RIVER"></a>TRACKING A BURIED RIVER.</h2> + +<h3>THE ADVENTURE OF TWO SAILOR BOYS.</h3> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>"The sum of 3000 francs [$600] will be paid by the Scientific +Association of Morlaix to any one who shall succeed in tracing the +course of the Larve, and ascertaining whether it has any +under-ground communication with the sea.</p></div> + +<p> +<span style="margin-left: 42em;">"<span class="smcap">Félix Delaroche</span>, President."</span><br /> +</p> + +<p>Such was the announcement which, posted in the quaint three-cornered +market-place of the old French town of Longchamp, attracted a good many +readers, and among the rest two lads in sailor costume, one of whom +remarked to the other:</p> + +<p>"What a holiday we'd have if <i>we</i> could earn it! eh, Pierre, my boy?"</p> + +<p>"I should think so! But nobody will earn <i>that</i> reward very soon. Don't +you remember how, a year ago, they widened the cleft into which the +stream falls, and let down a man with a lantern, and how, before he'd +gone thirty feet, he got bumped against a rock, and broke his lantern, +and hurt himself so badly that he had to be hauled up again?"</p> + +<p>"True; it's not a very likely job. Well, come along, and let's get the +boat out."</p> + +<p>Pierre Lebon, the younger of the two, was a lithe, olive-cheeked, merry +little fellow, whose slim figure and jaunty black curls contrasted +markedly with the burly frame and thick sandy hair of his chum, Jacques +Vaudry. The latter ought rightly to have been called Jack Fordrey, for +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_202" id="Page_202">[Pg 202]</a></span>he was an English boy, born in Guernsey; but having been adopted by a +Breton fisherman after his father's death, both he and his name had got +considerably "Frenchified."</p> + +<p>The two boys had to manage by themselves the boat of which they were +joint owners, for old Simon Lebon, Pierre's real and Jack's adopted +father, was now too aged and rheumatic to help them in their work, +except by advising them when to start and where to go. But his advice +was always good, for in his time he had been one of the best fishermen +on the coast, and the lads were usually very successful.</p> + +<p>On this particular day, however, their good luck seemed to have forsaken +them, for, try as they might, they could catch nothing worth mentioning. +Possibly they were thinking too little of their work, and too much of +the reward offered by the Scientific Association; for three thousand +francs would have been quite a fortune to them both. Moreover, the idea +of tracking an under-ground river had a spice of romance and adventure +about it which was the very thing to tempt them.</p> + +<p>The little stream of the Larve had long been the acknowledged puzzle of +the whole neighborhood. After skirting the town for some distance, it +vanished into the earth through a narrow cleft, and was seen no more. +Where it went to after that, no one could tell; and, as we have seen, +the first attempt to find out had succeeded so badly that nobody felt +much inclined for a second.</p> + +<p>Tired out at length, the unsuccessful fishers went home, inwardly +resolving to try whether they might not have better fortune by night +than by day. Pierre, indeed, when the night came, began to have some +doubts about the wisdom of the idea, having heard his father say once +and again that it was a very dangerous thing to attempt at that season. +But the hardest thing in the world for a boy to do is to draw back from +anything simply because it is dangerous. Rather than let Jack think him +afraid, Pierre would have gone to sea on a hen-coop; so they stole out +of the cottage as noiselessly as possible, and away they went over the +dim gray waste of sea, half lighted by the rising moon.</p> + +<p>The "take" of fish was a very good one this time, and the boys began to +think their night voyage a lucky idea; but they were rejoicing too soon. +A little after midnight the sky began to cloud over and the sea to rise +in a way which showed that there was a storm brewing. They put about at +once, and made for the shore, but long before they reached it the storm +burst upon them in all its fury.</p> + +<p>In an instant the boat was half full of water, and it was all they could +do to keep her from foundering outright, as they flew through the great +white roaring waves, thumped and banged about from side to side, and +drenched to the skin at every plunge by the flying gusts of spray. +Pierre grasped the tiller in his half-numbed hands, while Jack held on +with all his might to the "sheet" that steadied their little +three-cornered sail, at which the wind tugged as if meaning to tear it +away altogether.</p> + +<p>The little craft held her own gallantly, and the young sailors began to +hope that, after all, they might make the entrance of the bay without +accident. But just then an unlucky shift of the wind tore the sail clean +away, and the boat, falling off at once, was swept helplessly toward the +formidable cliffs beyond.</p> + +<p>"Not much chance for us now," said Jack, shaking his head. "Pierre, my +boy, I'm sorry I've brought you into this mess; it's all my fault."</p> + +<p>"Not a bit, old fellow. I ought to have warned you of what I'd heard my +father say. However, if the worst comes to the worst, we can swim for +it."</p> + +<p>However, there seemed to be little hope, for not a foot of standing-room +was to be seen on the rocky sides of the vast black precipice upon which +they were driving headlong. All at once Jack shouted:</p> + +<p>"Port your helm, Pierre—port! We'll do it yet."</p> + +<p>His keen eye had detected a cleft in the rock, just wide enough for the +boat to enter.</p> + +<p>Pierre had barely time to obey, when there came a tremendous crash, and +the boys found themselves floundering amid a welter of foam, nets, sand, +dead fish, and broken timbers, in a deep dark hollow that looked like +the mouth of a cave.</p> + +<p>"There goes father's boat," sputtered Pierre, as soon as he could clear +his mouth of the salt-water.</p> + +<p>"And there go our fish," added Jack. "Here's that loaf that we put in +the locker, though; and even wet bread's better than none, in a place +like this. Now, then, let's be getting higher up, for the tide will be +upon us here in no time."</p> + +<p>But to get higher up was no easy matter. They were in utter darkness, +and (as they had already found by groping about) on the brink of a chasm +of unknown depth. The ledge upon which they had been cast was evidently +very narrow, and almost as slippery as ice; and Jack, being encumbered +with the loaf, and Pierre badly bruised against the rocks, they were not +in the best condition for climbing.</p> + +<p>But the roar of the next wave as it came bursting in, splashing them +from head to foot where they sat, was a wonderful quickener to their +movements, and away they scrambled through the pitchy blackness, +clinging like limpets to the rough side of the cavern as they felt their +feet slide upon the treacherous rocks, and thought of the unseen gulf +below.</p> + +<p>Onward, onward still, deeper and deeper into the heart of the cold, +silent rock, fearing at every moment to feel their way barred by a solid +wall, and find themselves cut off from escape, and doomed to be drowned +by inches. But, no; the strange tunnel went on and on as if it would +never end, their only consolation being that they were unmistakably +tending <i>upward</i>, and already (as they calculated) beyond the reach of +the flood-tide.</p> + +<p>Suddenly Jack uttered a shout of joy:</p> + +<p>"Hurrah, Pierre! here's one of the lantern candles in my inner pocket, +and I know I've got my matches somewhere. We'll be able to see where we +are at last, my boy!"</p> + +<p>The matches (luckily still dry) were produced, the candle was lighted, +and our heroes took a survey of their surroundings.</p> + +<p>They were in a long narrow passage, rising to a considerable height +overhead, and with another ledge on its opposite side, steeper and more +broken than the one on which they were. In the centre lay the chasm +already mentioned; but instead of the frightful depth which they had +imagined, it was only six or seven feet deep at the most, and more than +half full of water.</p> + +<p>"There's our terrible precipice," laughed Jack, stooping over it. "I +don't think <i>that</i> would hurt us much. But—holloa! I say, Pierre, this +isn't sea-brine; it's <i>fresh-water</i>, running water! It's a stream that's +tunnelled its way through the rock; and if we follow it far enough, +we'll get out. Hurrah!"</p> + +<p>"Hurrah!" echoed Pierre, brightening up. "We sha'n't run short of water, +anyhow; and as for food, we may as well have a bite of that loaf before +starting again."</p> + +<p>The under-ground breakfast was soon finished, and the adventurous lads +started once more.</p> + +<p>But the pain of Pierre's bruises, which he had manfully concealed +hitherto, began to master him at last. His tired limbs began to drag +more and more heavily; his feet slipped again and again, and only the +strong hand of his comrade saved him from more than one serious fall.</p> + +<p>"Better sit down and rest a bit, old fellow," said Jack, kindly; +"there's no hurry, for this candle will burn a long while yet. I know +you won't own it, but you <i>did</i> get a nasty bump against that rock +yonder."</p> + +<p>"I fancy you're right there," answered Pierre, sinking<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_203" id="Page_203">[Pg 203]</a></span> wearily upon the +ledge. "But we don't need the candle while we're sitting still, you +know. Blow it out, and light it again when we start."</p> + +<p>Jack did so, and they sat silent in the darkness. All at once Pierre +heard his comrade call out,</p> + +<p>"I say, don't you hear water falling somewhere?"</p> + +<p>"To be sure I do," replied Pierre, after listening a moment. "We must be +close to the place where this stream falls down into the tunnel, and now +we'll have a chance of getting out at last. Bravo!"</p> + +<p>Jack slapped his hands together, with a shout that made the cavern echo.</p> + +<p>"I've got an idea, Pierre, my boy! What a fool I was not to think of it +before! This stream that we've been following is the Larve, and we've +got to the very place where it falls through the cleft. Now if we can +only get out with whole bones, it's fifteen hundred francs apiece to us. +Come along, quick!"</p> + +<p>All Pierre's weariness was gone in a minute. Already, in his mind's eye, +he saw his ailing father comfortably provided for, and Jack and himself +standing out to sea in a brand-new boat. The instant the candle was +lighted they were off again at a pace which would have seemed impossible +a few minutes before.</p> + +<p>Guided by the increasing din of the water-fall, they were not long in +reaching a huge perpendicular funnel or chimney in the rock, down one +side of which poured a stream of water, while through a cleft above, +dazzlingly radiant after the darkness of the buried passage, came a +bright gleam of <i>sunshine</i>. Just then a big stone, flung from above, +came thundering down into the chasm, falling close to the feet of the +two explorers.</p> + +<p>"That's the boys at their fun," said Jack, laughing. "I've done it many +a time myself. Above there—hoy!"</p> + +<p>The only answer was a howl of terror and the sound of flying feet. +Pierre, alarmed at the thought of being deserted, shouted in his turn,</p> + +<p>"Help, comrades! help!"</p> + +<p>"Who's that calling?" asked a gruff voice from above, while the light +was obscured by a broad visage peering down into the hole.</p> + +<p>"Holloa, Gaspard! is that you?" cried Pierre, recognizing the voice of +one of his father's fisher cronies.</p> + +<p>"What, Pierre Lebon! <i>you</i> down there? Well, who ever saw the like? Just +wait a minute, while I run for a rope."</p> + +<p>But before he could return there were already more than a hundred people +gathered around the hole, for the news of a human voice having been +heard out of the "Larve Chimney," as the chasm was called, had spread +far and wide.</p> + +<p>The water-fall on one side and the sharp rocks on the other made it no +easy matter to draw the boys up safely. But at length they were dragged +forth into the daylight, to be embraced and shouted over by the whole +town, and to receive, a few days later, the praises of the entire +Scientific Association, together with the three thousand francs which +they had so bravely earned.</p> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="BIDDY_ODOLAN" id="BIDDY_ODOLAN"></a>BIDDY O'DOLAN.</h2> + +<h3>BY MRS. ZADEL B. GUSTAFSON.</h3> + +<h3>CHAPTER I.</h3> + +<p>Do you remember Biddy O'Dolan, the little rag-picker and ash girl who +found Lily De Koven's broken doll in the ash-can that cold winter's +morning? I have not forgotten my promise to tell you the rest about her.</p> + +<p>Biddy had a boy-friend, a little Irish boy, who called himself +"Chairlier-Shauzy." I suspect his name was Charley O'Shaughnessy. He was +just as poor and alone in the world as Biddy, and almost always staid in +the same cellar at night.</p> + +<p>When Biddy ran off with her doll that cold morning, she not only thought +of the hospital and the little girl who had there brought her the +flowers, but she thought how she would tell Charley that night about her +doll.</p> + +<p>The first thing to be done was to get Dolly a dress, and this was the +way Biddy managed it. She took an old knife and hacked out a piece of +her skirt, then she pulled out of her dingy pocket a little wad. A wad +of what? Pins. Pins that she had picked up on the street in the summer, +when she swept the street crossings, and had stuck thick and +"criss-cross" in a bit of woollen rag. With some of these pins Biddy +fastened together the two sides of the cut in her skirt. Next she took +the piece of cloth she had cut out, and punched her tough little +forefinger through it in two places, and through one of these holes +pushed the whole arm and through the other the broken arm of her doll, +and pinned the cloth together in the back.</p> + +<p>Thus Dolly was dressed, and nearly as well as Biddy, too. Biddy had been +very quick about this, and had often looked over her shoulders to see +who came in and out of the cellar.</p> + +<p>You who do not live in a cellar, and do not get shoved about and slapped +as Biddy did, can hardly imagine how glad she was that no one happened +to take notice of her.</p> + +<p>She hid Dolly under the straw where she was to sleep at night, and then +hurried out to pick over as many more ash cans and barrels as she could, +in hopes of finding something this time which would please Mrs. Brown, +so that she could dare to show her doll, and perhaps be allowed to sit +up and play with it a little.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Brown was the cross old woman who kept the cellar, and the children +on the street called her "Grumpy."</p> + +<p>Biddy did not find anything in particular, and got fewer pennies than +usual for errands and for showing people the way to places, so that old +Mrs. Brown was very cross indeed, and Biddy went to bed without daring +to pull Dolly out where she could see her. She lay awake, with her hand +on it, waiting for Charley.</p> + +<p>Charley was a newsboy, but he was not a lucky little boy. He had the +large and beautiful deep blue eyes you may often see in the children of +Irish immigrants. But he was weak in body, and very shy. He lived as +Biddy did, among rough people, who were all the more rough because they +were so poor and miserable. So he got knocked about a great deal, and +stood no chance at all among other newsboys, who shoved him aside, and +called their papers so loud that Charley's thin voice could not be +heard. Some newsboys make money selling papers—make so much that they +can start in other kinds of business for themselves, and get on very +well in the world among other successful men. I have seen this kind of +newsboy. They have bright, sharp, old-looking faces. They have wiry, +strong bodies, good health, and seem to be afraid of nothing.</p> + +<p>Charley wasn't this sort of boy at all. He got poked, and pushed, and +cuffed, and tripped up, and laughed at. The girls called him +"fraid-cat," because they thought he was a coward. The boys said he was +just like a girl, and shouted, "Hallo, Polly!" when they saw him. +Charley did not say much to all this. He went with his papers every day, +and managed to sell a few; and, besides, he did errands quickly and +well. In these ways he earned enough to pay for his straw in Mrs. +Brown's cellar, and to buy enough to eat to keep life in him.</p> + +<p>Charley's straw was next to Biddy's straw, and when he came in that +night Biddy whispered to him all about her doll, telling him especially +how one of its arms was broken off at the elbow. Charley put out his +hand in the dark, and asked her to let him take the doll a moment. He +felt it over carefully, and gave it back without saying anything. Biddy +whispered a little more, and then they went to sleep.</p> + +<p>One day Biddy happened to come in a little after noon. She was going +right out again; but first she stooped, and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_204" id="Page_204">[Pg 204]</a></span> felt under her straw—the +doll was gone! Biddy sat down, quite faint for a moment; then she sprang +to her feet, darted up the cellar steps, and around the corner where old +Mrs. Brown sat behind her apple and candy stand. Biddy reached over and +put both hands in the knot of gray hair in the old woman's neck, pulling +as if she would carry her off, stand and all.</p> + +<p>Biddy's face was pale, and her eyes were like white-hot coals, as she +gasped out:</p> + +<p>"Give it me! Give it me! I'll never leave go till ye give it me!"</p> + +<p>"Howld an, an' lave go av me!" cried the old woman. She grasped Biddy's +wrists, and drew them toward her to ease the strain on her hair; but +Biddy's little fingers were strong. She tugged hard, and kept on +gasping,</p> + +<p>"I'll never, never leave go till ye give it me. Oh!"</p> + +<p>Never had such an "Oh!" come from Biddy's lips before, and with the very +sound of it she had torn herself away from Mrs. Brown, and had seized +and almost knocked over little Charley, who had vainly been making signs +at her as he came up behind Mrs. Brown.</p> + +<div class="figleft" style="width: 230px;"> +<img src="images/ill_003.jpg" width="230" height="400" alt="MENDING THE DOLL." title="" /> +<span class="caption">MENDING THE DOLL.</span> +</div> + +<p>Mrs. Brown rubbed her neck, smoothed down her apron, and jabbering +fiercely, came panting up to the children. Biddy had let go of Charley, +and was sitting right down on the cold pavement holding her doll, and +looking with wild delight and wonder at its wooden arm, new from the +elbow. Charley knew an old man who used to whittle out all sorts of +things with his jackknife, and who seemed as ready to give away as to +sell his work. Charley had taken Biddy's doll to this man, who had +willingly and quite skillfully mended it. He was on his way back to get +it hid under Biddy's straw for a surprise for her, when he found Biddy +struggling with Mrs. Brown. Charley's plan was perfect. The trouble was +that he couldn't plan for Biddy too, and she had spoiled everything +without knowing it.</p> + +<p>"How ever <i>could</i> ye git a new arm?" said Biddy. "It's a miracle."</p> + +<p>"Be whisht wid yer mary-cles!" exclaimed old Mrs. Brown, snatching the +doll, holding it high out of reach, and spreading out her other hand to +keep Biddy off.</p> + +<p>But Biddy did not spring at her this time. She stood up, and put her +hands together, and twisted them till the knuckles were white, and she +spoke as if there were cotton in her throat when she begged the old +woman to give her the doll. She promised never to be a bad girl any +more; to give every cent she could get to Mrs. Brown—every one; to do +everything Mrs. Brown asked her to do; and she called her over and over +again "<i>good</i> lady," and "<i>dear</i> lady."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Brown kept on talking too fast to be understood. She was very +angry, and slapped Biddy's cheeks, and pushed her toward the cellar. +Biddy stumbled along as she was pushed, and kept on praying for her +doll, and making every promise she could think of to the old woman. When +they reached the cellar steps, Charley pulled Mrs. Brown's dress, showed +her a bright new quarter dollar, and said she might have it if she would +give up the doll to Biddy.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Brown took the quarter, looked at it, rang it on the step, and then +handed the doll to Biddy, telling her that she might have it that night, +but that she must pay extra every day for what she called the +"craythur's boord an' lodgin'."</p> + +<p>This idea seemed to please Mrs. Brown very much, for she called it a +great joke, and put her hands on her hips and laughed. Then she looked +savage again, and said, she would keep the doll herself on nights when +Biddy could not pay extra. She went off to her fruit stand, with her +hands on her hips, laughing and muttering by turns. Biddy sat down with +her doll. Now and then she looked at Charley and smiled, and seemed to +be thinking very hard about something.</p> + +<h4>[<span class="smcap">to be continued</span>.]</h4> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="NEW_YORK_PRISONS_IN_1776-77" id="NEW_YORK_PRISONS_IN_1776-77"></a>NEW YORK PRISONS IN 1776-77.</h2> + +<div class="figright" style="width: 318px;"> +<img src="images/ill_004.jpg" width="318" height="400" alt="JAIL IN CITY HALL PARK.—[From Miss Mary L. Booth's +"History of the City of New York."]" title="" /> +<span class="caption">JAIL IN CITY HALL PARK.—[<span class="smcap">From Miss Mary L. Booth's +"History of the City of New York."]</span></span> +</div> + +<p>Those who tread the floor of what was recently the Post-office, once the +great Middle Dutch Church, and now a Brokers' Exchange, at the corner of +Nassau Street and Cedar, can scarcely believe that it was once a +military prison, that its walls re-echoed the groans and cries of sick +and dying patriots, that a large part of Washington's army was once +confined on the very spot where now the broker is calling his stocks and +the photographer fitting his lenses. The fine church in 1776 was +converted at once into a royal prison. Its pews were torn out, its +interior defaced, but the walls are the same that shut in the +unfortunate Americans, and their only shelter was the lofty roof that +still rises among the haunts of trade. The ancient building is one of +the most touching of the historical remains of the early city. The +number of persons shut up at once within its precincts is variously +estimated; one account gives 800, another 3000, as the probable limit. +It is certain that they were crowded in with no care for comfort, no +regard for health or ease; that one aim of the royal captors was to +"break their spirit" by ill usage, and win them back to their loyalty by +no gentle means.</p> + +<p>As the motley train of prisoners came down to the city after the capture +of Fort Washington, they were met by the royal officers with every mark +of contempt and hate. They were stripped of their arms and uniforms, +robbed of their money, insulted with rude taunts and even blows. War had +not yet been robbed of some of its brutality by the slow rise of +knowledge, and the British officers had not yet learned the politeness +of freemen. A savage Hessian made his way up to Graydon, the young +American officer, and threatened to kill him. "Young man," said to him a +Scotch officer of more humanity, "you should never rebel against your +king." The prisoners were taken before the British provost-marshal to be +examined. "What is your rank?" said the officer to a sturdy little<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_205" id="Page_205">[Pg 205]</a></span> +fellow from Connecticut, ragged and dirty, who seemed scarcely twenty. +"I am a <i>keppen</i>," said he, in a resolute tone; and the British +officers, clad in scarlet and gold, broke into shouts of laughter. It +was not long before they were flying before the "keppens" of New Jersey +and New York, glad to escape from the rabble they despised.</p> + +<p>When they had been examined, plundered, ridiculed, the unlucky prisoners +were divided into companies, and marched away to the different prisons +of New York, that were for so many weary months to be their homes or +their graves. Those who were confined in the Middle Dutch Church were +probably the most fortunate of all; they had air and light; but two of +the prisons are covered with some of the saddest memories of the war for +freedom. One of them was a common jail in the Park, now the Hall of +Records, and the other was the old Sugar-House in Liberty Street, next +to the Middle Dutch Church. The jail was so crowded with the captured +Americans that they had scarcely room to lie on the bare floor. The air +was stifling, the rooms pestilential, full of filth and fever.</p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 600px;"> +<img src="images/ill_005.jpg" width="600" height="357" alt="OLD SUGAR-HOUSE IN LIBERTY STREET.—[From Miss Mary L. +Booth's "History of the City of New York."]" title="" /> +<span class="caption">OLD SUGAR-HOUSE IN LIBERTY STREET.—[<span class="smcap">From Miss Mary L. +Booth's "History of the City of New York."]</span></span> +</div> + +<p>But the most painful circumstance of their lot was the character of the +keeper. His name was Cunningham; he seems to have been a monster. Many +years afterward he was executed in England for some hideous crime, and +boasted that he had put arsenic in the flour he served to the prisoners. +It was under this man—one of those horrible natures war often brings +into use—that the young men of New York, Connecticut, and New Jersey +were to pass their miserable captivity. Soon even the English officials +were forced to take notice of the horrors of the jail in the Park. The +neighbors complained that they could get no sleep for the outcries and +groans of the prisoners. Cunningham ruled over them with lash and sword. +They were starved, reviled, beaten, "to win them," he said, "to their +duty." The chill winter and the hot summer found them crowded in their +pestilential prisons. The old Sugar-House in Liberty Street was also +under Cunningham's care. It was a tall building, several stories high, +with small windows, low ceilings, and bare walls. Every story was filled +thickly with the captured Americans. They starved, pined away, died by +hundreds. Cunningham withheld their food, and cheated even the miserable +sick and dying. They froze to death in the chill winter of 1776-77. +Sometimes the famished prisoners would come to the narrow windows of the +old Sugar-House, crying for charity to those who passed, but the +sentries drove them back. They pined away in the dark corners of the +crowded rooms, dreaming of the old homestead in Connecticut, +Thanksgiving cheer, and smiling friends. When they were brought out for +exchange, Washington wrote indignantly to Sir Henry Clinton, "You give +us only the sick and dying for our healthy, well-fed prisoners." Such +were the sorrows our ancestors bore for us. They were the authors of our +freedom. And he who treads the floors of the old Dutch Church, or seeks +out the spot where stood the Sugar-House in Liberty Street, may well +pause to think how much we owe to those who<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_206" id="Page_206">[Pg 206]</a></span> once pined within their +walls. Such, too, is war. Modern intelligence has shorn it of some of +its horrors. It may be hoped that education will at last banish it +altogether, and the people of Europe and America join to force upon +their governments a policy of peace.</p> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="ZACHUR_WITH_THE_SACK" id="ZACHUR_WITH_THE_SACK"></a>ZACHUR WITH THE SACK.</h2> + +<p>A stately-looking man, wearing suspended on his left side by a strong +strap a simple gray sack, while a well-filled leather purse hung on his +right, was one day slowly wandering through the crowded bazar of Bagdad. +He remained standing before one of the stalls, and then, after a little +reflection, proceeded to purchase the largest and softest carpet +there—one of those in which the foot seems gently to sink down, and the +sound of each step is completely hushed.</p> + +<p>The merchant was greatly surprised to see the richly dressed stranger +without retinue, and said, politely, "Sir, as your slaves are not at +hand, I will send one of my young men with you to carry the carpet."</p> + +<p>"It is not necessary," said the purchaser, as he paid the price in +shining gold pieces; "I can manage it myself."</p> + +<p>He quickly took up the immense roll of carpet, and pushed it slowly but +surely into his sack. Then, without heeding the amazement and shaking of +the head of the dealer, he passed on.</p> + +<p>His desire of purchasing seemed now to be thoroughly roused. Twelve +flasks of otto of roses, from Schiraz, found their way into his sack; +ten pounds of the finest Turkish tobacco followed them; then came, quite +appropriately, a magnificent nargileh, with a long tube and a yellow +amber mouth-piece, on the top of which he carelessly threw a heavy ebony +box, inlaid with copper.</p> + +<p>Notwithstanding the crowd, he attracted continual notice, and a +dignified-looking man had long been following him attentively, without, +however, addressing him. But when he had reached the middle of the +bazar, where the best and most costly wares are exposed for sale, and +when, as though intoxicated by the sight, he seized the most incongruous +things, and untiringly pushed them into his sack—pearls from Ormuz and +blades from Damascus, tons of Mocha coffee, and bales of silk, fishes +and rings, bracelets and dates, watches, saddles, and diamonds—then the +Caliph, for it was no less a personage who was following him, could +contain himself no longer, and said:</p> + +<p>"I have seen many wonders, O stranger, and by the beard of the Prophet, +thou art not the least. Have, then, thy purse and thy sack no end? Why +does thy sack not burst? How canst thou carry it? How canst thou find +but one of the thousand things which thou art unceasingly cramming into +it? And tell me, how will those poor tender pearls, which were too dear +for me to buy for Zuleika, fare among tons and crates?"</p> + +<p>Zachur—such was the name of the stranger—crossed his arms on his +breast, and bowed low.</p> + +<p>"Ruler of the Faithful," he said—"for it is in vain that thou hidest +thy noble figure under a homely dress; thy portrait, painted by a +Giaour, and offered to me in Frankestan, is also in my sack, and I +recognize thee at once—Allah is great, and His gifts are wonderful. +Thou carest for the lovely daughters of the shell? Look here!"</p> + +<p>He quickly put his right hand into the sack, and brought forth unhurt, +from the very midst of sabres and boxes, the double row of large +milk-white pearls, which he respectfully presented to the Caliph.</p> + +<p>The Caliph was astonished at Zachur's riches and dexterity, rejoiced at +his present, and was curious to learn more concerning him.</p> + +<p>"Then we will sit down there, on the broad stone steps at the foot of +the murmuring fountain," said Zachur; and in a minute he had spread out +his soft carpet, and lighted two nargilehs filled with the costly +aromatic herb.</p> + +<p>They sat down, with their legs crossed under them, peacefully sent +little blue clouds into the air, and the stranger began his tale:</p> + +<p>"I am the son of a poor man, O sire, and seemed doomed to poverty. But +there stood a good fairy by my cradle, and laid on it this bag and this +purse, saying:</p> + +<p>"'Grow up, Zachur, and look around thee, in the world. Buy what pleases +thee. Pay for it out of this purse, which will not become empty, and +preserve it in this sack, which will not become full; but especially +pack in all that is valuable—the weight of it will not weary thee.'</p> + +<p>"It has held more than she promised. All that I have ever possessed or +loved is contained, imperishable, safe forever, and always at hand, in +this sack."</p> + +<p>"Wonderful, highly singular, and wonderful!" said the Caliph. "But tell +me more, friend."</p> + +<p>"Details would take too long to relate, but the whole is soon said," +answered Zachur. "Thou wast surprised to-day at my rapidity in +purchasing—thou shouldst have seen me in my young days! When the world +still looked sunny and bright to my childish gaze, when thousands of +objects attracted me, my hand was rarely out of my purse and my sack. I +took long journeys over sea and desert, through lonely villages and +large cities, and whatever pleased me I bought, and joyfully put into my +capacious sack. Indeed, it filled itself, without aid from me; shining +green birds and brilliant snow-white blossoms flew into it.</p> + +<p>"The first impetuous joy was, however, soon stilled. Sometimes a feeling +of indifference came over me, and I passed unmoved by the most beautiful +things, because I already possessed so much that was lovely. 'Another +opportunity will occur,' I thought, 'if I should ever wish for it.' But +it never came, just as no moment of time ever returns; and now I mourn +over many a neglected chance.</p> + +<p>"Then, again, I comfort myself with the thought of how many things I +possess, and take old and new out of my sack, according to my +inclination—a quilted silk counterpane from Japan in which to envelop +myself, or the Egyptian phœnix to lull me to sleep.</p> + +<p>"Besides, the world is still large, and Zachur is not old yet. I have +still time to buy; and sometimes the old longing is very strong within +me. Thus to-day, O sire, when I entered thy city, I gave praise to Allah +that He had enabled man to form, out of the dirty wool of the sheep, the +brilliant carpet on which we are sitting, and caused the fragile amber +now between our lips to rise up from the sand of the sea—that He +brought the gold from the bowels of the earth, and the pearls from the +depths of the sea! And eagerly I seized the things, O sire, until the +eye of thy favor rested on me, and the blessed breath of thy mouth +reached me, and gave me what can not be purchased with gold and +silver—the honor and delight of thy presence!"</p> + +<p>"Well spoken!" said the Caliph, delighted, as he blew a thick cloud +before him; "it is easy to see that thou hast travelled, and been in +courts too, friend Zachur. But one thing, before I again forget it in my +amazement. The Prophet, praised be his name! has forbidden to make a +likeness or picture of man, the image of Allah. But as thou possessest +mine, done by some unbelieving dog—I can not conceive how he found time +and opportunity to do it—"</p> + +<p>"They paint rapidly," interrupted Zachur; "and are quick in all evil +arts."</p> + +<p>"True, very true. I should like to look at the thing. The people need +know nothing about it. Couldst thou not take it out for me to have just +one glimpse of it?"</p> + +<p>"Thy wish is a command to me," answered Zachur, who was already fumbling +in the sack, but for some time in vain.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_207" id="Page_207">[Pg 207]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Well," called the Caliph, getting angry, "art thou sorry that thou hast +promised? Or—"</p> + +<p>"Here it is, O sire," said Zachur, breathing freely; and the anger of +the ruler disappeared as he gazed with curiosity on a small silver +medal.</p> + +<p>"It <i>is</i> I, and yet it is not," he said, shaking his head. "It is my +fez, with the ruby clasp, and the embroidery on my state dress; but I do +not really look so stiff. Where are the brown cheeks, the brightness of +the eyes, the coloring, friend? And—what do I see?—the thing is +broken; look here! there is a crack across it that separates the feet of +my horse from his body. Therefore thou canst not keep all thy things +unhurt in that sack—thou canst not find them all in a minute: confess +thou hast also lost some entirely."</p> + +<p>"I am the son of a poor man," answered Zachur, blushing, "but I learned +two things when only a boy: to use a sword, and to speak the truth. Yes, +I have lost many a thing; and when I was boasting just now that I had +everything in my sack, I was guilty of exaggeration, as men of limited +capacity are, in the use of the two words <i>everything</i> and <i>nothing</i>. I +should have said <i>most things</i>."</p> + +<p>At this moment appeared two outriders on swift Arab steeds, and behind +them came a gilt carriage, drawn by four Barbary horses. At sight of +them Zachur sprang to his feet.</p> + +<p>Without for a moment losing sight of the approaching procession seeing +the Caliph rise too, he quickly pushed his carpet and nargileh into his +sack, and exclaimed, with sparkling eyes, "To whom does this +magnificence belong? Though how can I ask? for who but thou, O sire, +could call such splendor his own?</p> + +<p>"How beautifully the Nubian in his purple contrasts with the gray horse, +and the pale Christian slave in the blue silk with the shining black +steed! If only thou wert a merchant with this equipage for sale!"</p> + +<p>"Princes do not barter," said the Caliph, as he put a little silver +whistle to his mouth, and blew a shrill blast, when horses and carriage +suddenly stood still by the side of the fountain.</p> + +<p>"But thou hast made me a handsome present, friend Zachur, and what is +more, given me a pleasant hour. Take what thou praisest so +enthusiastically; be my guest to-day, and to-morrow, or when it pleases +thee, drive away into the wide world in this carriage—it must be weary +work dragging such a sack."</p> + +<p>Zachur crossed his arms on his breast, bowed low, and answered: "Thy +favor is like dew on a barren land, even for the richest, and if I had +not promised a sick friend to be with him this evening, I would +willingly enter within the shadow of thy halls. Therefore let me go in +peace; but these beautifully kept horses and carriage shall not go +through the dust of the suburbs."</p> + +<p>Saying this, he quietly pushed the Nubian with his gray steed, the black +horse and his rider, the carriage and horses, into the sack, bowed down +to the ground again, and then stepped lightly and erect toward the city +gate.</p> + +<p>The Caliph shook his head as he looked after him, went home full of +thought, and hung the double row of pearls round Zuleika's neck.</p> + +<p>Then he sent for his private secretary and said:</p> + +<p>"Take a swan quill and a sheet of the finest parchment, and write down +carefully what I shall dictate: the story of Zachur with the Sack."</p> + +<hr style='width: 25%;' /> + +<p>Many of our young readers have doubtless long since seen the meaning of +this tale shine forth through its thin veil. We should all be surprised +at a Zachur, and yet, like him, we have each a faithful capacious +sack—<i>memory</i>—into which, from our youth upward, we have crammed what +is noble and common, pearls and pebbles, and yet it does not become +full, nor our purse—our power of comprehension—empty.</p> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="THE_DIFFERENCE" id="THE_DIFFERENCE"></a>THE DIFFERENCE.</h2> + +<p> +<span style="margin-left: 25em;">Who warms his slippers for papa</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 26em;">When he comes home at night?</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 25em;">Who meets him with a joyous laugh,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 26em;">And blue eyes beaming bright?</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 25em;">Who climbs upon his ready knee,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 25em;">With kisses sweet as kiss can be?—</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 38em;">Our Kitty.</span><br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 25em;">Who teases poor old grandmamma,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 26em;">And pulls her work away,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 25em;">And with her gold-rimmed spectacles</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 26em;">Too often tries to play?</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 25em;">Who's full of mischief, sport, and fun,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 25em;">From early morn till day is done?—</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 38em;">Our Kitty.</span><br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 25em;">Whose little arms "hug mamma tight"?</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 26em;">Whose lips give kisses sweet?</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 25em;">Who follows nurse about the house</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 26em;">With little restless feet?</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 25em;">Who sings to Dolly, <i>scolds</i> her, too,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 25em;">And tries to act as "big folks" do?—</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 38em;">Our Kitty.</span><br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 25em;">Who, bent on mischief, truth to say,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 26em;">Like any little elf,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 25em;">Within the pantry hides to taste</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 26em;">The "goodies" on the shelf?</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 25em;">Who <i>bothers</i> cook, where'er she goes,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 25em;">And makes her scold, you may suppose?—</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 38em;">Our Kitty.</span><br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 25em;">But lest our Kitty chance to get</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 26em;">More than her share of blame</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 25em;">For mischief, I'll explain there is</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 26em;">Some difference in the name:</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 25em;"><i>One</i> Kitty is our <i>child</i>, you see;</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 25em;">The other, Kitty's c-a-t!</span><br /> +</p> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="A_PEEP_INTO_ROYAL_TREASURIES" id="A_PEEP_INTO_ROYAL_TREASURIES"></a>A PEEP INTO ROYAL TREASURIES.</h2> + +<p>The Hasné, or imperial treasury, of Constantinople, contains a costly +collection of ancient armor and coats of mail worn by the Sultans. The +most remarkable is that of Sultan Murad II., the conqueror of Bagdad. +The head-piece of this suit is of gold and silver, almost covered with +precious stones; the diadem surrounding the turban is composed of three +emeralds of the purest water and large size, while the collar is formed +of twenty-two large and magnificent diamonds.</p> + +<p>In the same collection is a curious ornament, in the shape of an +elephant, of massive gold, standing on a pedestal formed of enormous +pearls placed side by side. There is also a table, thickly inlaid with +Oriental topazes, presented by the Empress Catherine of Russia to the +Vizier Baltadji Mustapha, together with a very remarkable collection of +ancient costumes, trimmed with rare furs, and literally covered with +precious stones. The divans and cushions, formerly in the throne-room of +the Sultans, are gorgeous; the stuff of which the cushions are made is +pure tissue of gold, without any mixture of silk whatever, and is +embroidered with pearls, weighing about thirty-six hundred drachmas. +Children's cradles of solid gold, inlaid with precious stones; vases of +immense value in rock-crystal, gold, and silver, incrusted with rubies, +emeralds, and diamonds; daggers, swords, and shields, beautifully +wrought and richly jewelled—all tell a story of ancient grandeur and +wealth, when the Ottoman power was a reality, and Western Europe +trembled before the descendant of the son of Amurath.</p> + +<p>Notwithstanding these jewelled riches of Turkey, however, they are +surpassed by the splendor of the Shah of Persia's treasury, the contents +of which have accumulated in successive periods.</p> + +<p>Nadir Shah of Persia, in the first half of the eighteenth century, +amassed enormous riches by the spoils of war. He is said to have had a +tent made so magnificent and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_208" id="Page_208">[Pg 208]</a></span> costly as to appear almost fabulous. The +outside was covered with fine scarlet broadcloth, the lining was of +violet-colored satin, on which were representations of all the birds and +beasts in the creation, with trees and flowers; the whole made of +pearls, diamonds, rubies, emeralds, amethysts, and other precious +stones; and the tent poles were decorated in like manner. On both sides +of the peacock throne was a screen, on which were the figures of two +angels in precious stones.</p> + +<p>This splendid tent was displayed on all festivals in the public hall at +Herat during the remainder of Nadir Shah's reign.</p> + +<p>It would be impossible to describe in a short article the splendor of +the Persian treasury. One extraordinary object may be mentioned: a +two-foot globe covered with jewels from the north pole to the +extremities of the tripod on which the gemmed sphere is placed. His +Majesty had coats embroidered with diamonds and emeralds, rubies, +pearls, and garnets; he had jewelled swords and daggers without number; +so because he did not know what else to do with the rest of his jewels, +he ordered the globe to be constructed, and covered with gems; the +overspreading sea to be of emeralds, and the kingdoms of the world to be +distinguished by jewels of different color.</p> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="WINGED_FREEBOOTERS" id="WINGED_FREEBOOTERS"></a>WINGED FREEBOOTERS.</h2> + +<p>The great goshawk, a bird in a coat of blackish-brown covered with +blotches of black and reddish-white, is a terrible enemy to wild +rabbits, hares, and squirrels, and to all the small feathered +inhabitants of field and forest. It is about two feet long, and although +it is not a bird of very rapid flight, its cunning and strength are such +that its prey rarely escapes. Should the terrified hare hide itself in +some thicket, the goshawk patiently perches on an elevated branch near +at hand, where it will wait hours, motionless, until the poor hare, +thinking its enemy departed, ventures from its retreat, when in an +instant it is swooped down upon, and struck dying to the ground.</p> + +<p>Goshawks are found in the Middle and Western States during the autumn +and winter. In the summer they go far to the northward to rear their +young. They build a large nest of twigs and coarse grasses on some lofty +branch of a tree, and lay three or four eggs of dull bluish-white +slightly spotted with reddish-brown.</p> + +<p>These savage birds are very common in Maine, where they make great havoc +among the flocks of wild-ducks and Canada grouse, and will even, when +driven by hunger, venture an attack on the fowls of the farm-yard. Its +sharp eye always gleaming and on the alert, the goshawk sweeps over +fields and woods, changing its course in an instant by a slight movement +of its rudder-like tail whenever any desired prey is sighted. It is the +most restless of birds, and is almost constantly on the wing, seldom +alighting except for breakfast and dinner.</p> + +<p>Audubon relates a curious instance of sagacity in a goshawk, which he +himself witnessed. A large flock of blackbirds flying over a pond were +pursued by one of these birds, which, dashing into the flock, seized one +after the other of the poor little victims, apparently squeezing each +one with its powerful talons, and then allowing it to drop on the +surface of the water. Five or six had been captured before the fleeing +blackbirds gained the shelter of a thick forest. The goshawk then swept +leisurely back, and with graceful curves descended to the pond and +collected its victims, taking the dead birds one by one and carrying +them away as if laying up a store for its evening meal.</p> + +<div class="figleft" style="width: 272px;"> +<img src="images/ill_006.jpg" width="272" height="400" alt="A DASH FOR LIFE." title="" /> +<span class="caption">A DASH FOR LIFE.</span> +</div> + +<p>Instances have been known where this bird has itself fallen a victim to +its own designs. Dead goshawks have been found with their talons +hopelessly entangled in thorn and furze bushes, upon which they had +pounced with the object of seizing some little rabbit or squirrel which +had sought shelter beneath the undergrowth. A hunter once witnessed such +an occurrence, the rabbit scampering away in safety across the field, +while the great bird remained entangled in the bush. The hunter forbore +to shoot at the little rabbit which had made so fortunate an escape, and +killed the wicked bird of prey instead.</p> + +<p>Goshawks are found in nearly every portion of Europe, and have sometimes +been trained to assist in hunting; but as they are more ferocious than +the falcon, they are less easily controlled, and are always on the watch +to regain their liberty.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_209" id="Page_209">[Pg 209]</a></span></p> + +<p>A smaller variety of the great hawk family, but one spreading equal +terror among small birds, is the sparrow-hawk—a bold, provoking bird, +with dark brown back and wings, and breast of rusty brown or +grayish-white crossed by narrow bars of a darker tint. The sparrow-hawk +feeds mostly upon small birds, but it will also catch moles, field-mice, +and even grasshoppers. It flies low, skimming along but a few feet from +the ground, its sharp little eyes always on the watch for prey.</p> + +<p>When tamed, the sparrow-hawk becomes affectionate toward its owner, but +will rarely accept civilities from any other person. One of these birds, +which had been tamed by a lady, was accustomed to perch on the shoulder +of its mistress, and eat from her hand. It was intensely jealous, and +would fly savagely at any one to whom its mistress showed the least +favor. This particular pet proved as troublesome as a thieving cat, for +was any fine fat chicken or partridge left lying on the kitchen table, +if the cook's back was turned for a moment, the prize was either mangled +or borne away to a hiding-place by the mischievous bird.</p> + +<p>The sparrow-hawk is not a nest-builder, but will usurp the nest of the +crow or some other large bird. If a deserted nest can be found, the +sparrow-hawk will immediately take possession; but if no such presents +itself, this bad-hearted, quarrelsome bird does not hesitate to depose +the rightful owner, and proceed to occupy a home to which it has neither +right nor title.</p> + +<p>The sparrow-hawk, the malicious hen-hawk, and cruel pigeon-hawk, are +very common throughout the United States and Europe.</p> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 315px;"> +<img src="images/ill_007.jpg" width="315" height="600" alt="THE WRECK OF A COASTER." title="" /> +<span class="caption">THE WRECK OF A COASTER.</span> +</div> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="UNCLE_PHILS_THIMBLE" id="UNCLE_PHILS_THIMBLE"></a>UNCLE PHIL'S THIMBLE.</h2> + +<h3>BY ELINOR ELLIOTT.</h3> + +<p>"A rag-picker!"</p> + +<p>"That's just what I am," sighed a poor girl who stood at one of the long +tables in the rag-room of a large paper-mill. Down each side the table +stood a row of girls, some older, some younger, than herself, all +miserably clothed, and all with worn, pinched faces.</p> + +<p>These girls came each day to their work with an eager look in their +eyes, which burned brightly in the morning, flickered fitfully through +the day, and faded out at night, leaving the patient, tired look which +want and hunger and disappointment bring, and which is always ready to +take courage and look forward once more; for in a pile of rags there +sometimes lay a treasure—an odd penny, an old knife, a pair of +scissors—something that might be taken to the little pawn shop round +the corner and sold.</p> + +<p>A little while ago a girl—a <i>lucky</i> girl—had a "find," a bright silver +quarter. Her good luck had been whispered up and down the row, but no +one betrayed her fortune. When the overseer came through the room, no +exultant look nor envious glance suggested anything unusual, for this +band of "rag-pickers" had its honor, which it held to as closely as the +most compact trades-union in the land.</p> + +<p>To some of the girls the thought sometimes came, "Is what we find really +ours?" but long generations of workers in the mill had appropriated +these "finds," and it had become a custom if not a right.</p> + +<p>To-day Nance, at the head of the table, felt a keener longing than usual +to secure something. She had never felt the utter dreariness of her +loneliness and poverty so strongly as she had in the last bright +Christmas season, which had been to her only a vision; not the sweet +reality that it becomes to us, who bring it close to us in happy +anticipation weeks before it really comes, who live in its light and +peace and cheer, in its sweet givings and receivings, and keep its +memory with us throughout the year.</p> + +<p>For a whole year Nance had been at work in the mill,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_210" id="Page_210">[Pg 210]</a></span> and had had +nothing but her regular five-cent salary. Now her long nervous fingers +ran rapidly through the pieces, making four divisions, as she called; +"Linen, cotton, woollen, silk—linen, cotton, woollen, silk," and the +different bits dropped into their proper piles like falling leaves; +while the girl on her right took the cottons, and assorted them, and the +girl on her left went through the woollens in the same way, and a girl +further on took the silks.</p> + +<p>A stranger was always amused to watch the long rows of quiet bodies, +nimble fingers, and moving lips, and to hear the half-whispered counting +and calling of colors as they divided the pieces.</p> + +<p>To-day Nance had a bag to pick from. Here lay her chance. The girls who +took the rags from the bags were the most apt to find treasures, and +their turn came only once a month.</p> + +<p>She was fast nearing the bottom of the last bag. Every time she thrust +her hand in, her heart beat fast, and she thought, "Shall I keep it, if +I find anything?"</p> + +<p>Once more, and her hand touches something cold; her fingers close round +it, and she draws it out. Her head swims, she clutches the table with +her other hand to keep from falling—perhaps, after all, it is only a +button. She collects herself, and peeps slyly into her hand.</p> + +<p>A gold thimble!</p> + +<p>No one has seen it, no one knows, and Nance slips it into her pocket, +and goes on with her work; but somehow it doesn't run smoothly. It is +"Silk, cotton, woollen, linen," and then "Cotton, woollen, linen, silk," +and the girls find fault because the piles are "mixed," and then the +bell rings, and they are free for to-day.</p> + +<p>Cautiously Nance makes inquiries about the "finds." How much did they +sell things for, if they found any?</p> + +<p>"My aunt," said one girl, "onst foun' a gol' ring, an' the jew'ler give +her a dollar for 't."</p> + +<p>"He melted it down," explained another. "They allus does that. He told +me one day that if ever I found a gold breas'pin or a bracelet, 'which +'tain't noways likely you will,' sez he, 'fetch it to me, an' I'll give +you what's right for it.'"</p> + +<p>So Nance's "find" was really worth money. More money, too, than she +could earn in many days' steady toil. What would it not buy! Food, +clothing, warmth, everything, seemed within her reach now that she held +that source of wealth in her hand.</p> + +<p>"'Tain't stealin', I hope," thought Nance. "Course not. I don' know who +it belongs to."</p> + +<p>When alone, Nance took out the thimble. What a dainty little thing it +was! She tried it on each of her hard, bony fingers, and laughed to see +the poor grimy things wearing a golden crown.</p> + +<p>Why, there were letters on it!</p> + +<p>"Reel writin'!" cried Nance, as she paused under a street lamp to spell +the word by its light.</p> + +<p>"Onst I could read writin'. That first mus' be a capertin—that's what +they call them big fellers that stands first—a kin' of a Gennyrel with +his soljers. Oh! I don' know the capertins—never got acquainted when I +went to school; common letters was good enough for me.</p> + +<p>"That tall one, that's <i>l</i>, an' there's round <i>o</i>, then <i>r</i>, an' then +<i>i</i> with a dot. L-o lo, r-i ri, lori; <i>m</i>, <i>e</i>, an' then another tall +<i>l</i> on the end—that's m-e-l mel, lorimel. Now what's the capertin's +name?—lorimel, lorimel; I've heerd that name some'eres. Why, it's her +that came that day mother lay a-dyin' an' spoke so soft like; an' the +gennelman with her he called her 'lorimel'—no that warn't it—Florimel, +Florimel, that's the name!</p> + +<p>"Tain't yourn now, Nance. You know where it belongs. You ain't got no +right to it now."</p> + +<p>And then came other thoughts.</p> + +<p>"What's a gold thimble to her? She can buy all she wants—gold thimbles, +and gold scissors, and gold needles; and sit in a gold chair, and sew on +a gold gown. She hadn't no business leavin' a gold thimble in a rag bag. +Them that's careless has to pay for it."</p> + +<hr style='width: 25%;' /> + +<p>The curtains were drawn in an elegant house on the Avenue. A bright fire +burned in the grate, throwing a warm glow on the delicate walls, the +beautiful pictures, and the snowy marble statues, and reflecting itself +in the long mirrors, seemed, as it sparkled and glowed, the only thing +of life in the room; for the young girl who lay back in the luxurious +depths of the large chair by the hearth, with her fair hands lying +listlessly in her lap, was as white and motionless as the statues around +her.</p> + +<p>Now and then her lip quivered, and an occasional tear stole from under +her long lashes, but she did not look up till a gentleman entered the +room. Then she sprang into his arms, and sobbed out, in reply to his +question of how she had spent the day,</p> + +<p>"I've been perfectly miserable, papa. I've lost my thimble—the thimble +Uncle Phil gave me. I'd give everything in the world to see it again."</p> + +<p>"Why, my dear little girl, that would hardly be worth while, when you +can get another for a few dollars. We'll go to-morrow and buy the +prettiest—"</p> + +<p>"Ah! papa, you don't understand. All the money in the world can't buy a +thimble to take the place of the one Uncle Phil gave me. It was the last +thing he ever bought."</p> + +<p>"Was it, darling?"</p> + +<p>"Yes; and he said that morning, 'Florimel, can you sew pretty well?' and +I laughed, and said, 'Of course not, Uncle Phil; what's the need of my +sewing?' 'Great need, great need, little niece,' he said. 'Sewing is +woman's most womanly work, and though you may never need to sew for +yourself, if you knew how, you might teach hundreds of poor girls to sew +and clothe themselves and their families.'"</p> + +<p>"My little daughter teaching a sewing-school! How funny it would be!"</p> + +<p>"So that afternoon we went into Shreve's and selected one, and had my +name engraved on it; and that night Uncle Phil was taken ill. So of +course I feel badly, papa; don't you see why?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, Florimel; but perhaps we shall find this thimble. Have you had +Janet search for it?"</p> + +<p>"Indeed I have, all day long. I had it yesterday at work on my +Kensington, and think Janet must have taken it up among the bits of +worsted when she put them into the scrap bag; and Ann sold all the +scraps last night to the ragman. Oh dear! I shall never see it again."</p> + +<p>"Hif you please, sir," said Jacobs, appearing in the doorway, "there's a +vagrant at the basement door. Three times hi've sent 'er away, han' +three times she 'as returned, hevery time hasking for Miss Florimel, +han' sayin' she <i>must</i> see 'er."</p> + +<p>"To see me? At the basement door? How strange!" and Florimel forgot her +tears in her eagerness to see what the poor child at the door could +want.</p> + +<p>Her papa hurried down stairs after her, and saw her face radiant with +joy as she held in her hand a gold thimble, while a scantily clothed +girl stood beside her awkwardly twisting the corner of her shabby shawl.</p> + +<p>"Oh, papa! this girl Nancy found my thimble among some rags, and brought +it back to me. Oh, what can I do for her, papa?"</p> + +<p>"How did you know whose the thimble was, my child?"</p> + +<p>"I warn't sure, sir," faltered Nance, whose honor had outweighed her +longing for money and the comfort it would bring, and had brought her +through the long city to seek the rightful owner of the thimble—"I +warn't <i>sure</i>; but I knew her name, for herself an' a gennelman came +onst to see mother long ago."</p> + +<p>"That was Uncle Phil," said Florimel. "He used often to take me when he +went to visit the poor. But how did you know where I lived?"'<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_211" id="Page_211">[Pg 211]</a></span></p> + +<p>"I knew the house, 'cause he told me to come here onst for some soup for +mother, an' I came an' got it."</p> + +<p>"How is your mother now?"</p> + +<p>"She's dead, miss," sobbed Nance.</p> + +<p>"And so is Uncle Phil;" and the two girls—the one so fair and beautiful +and carefully guarded, the other so pale and pinched and +friendless—forgot for a moment all but their sorrow, their longing for +the dear dead faces they could never see again.</p> + +<p>But Florimel's papa called Janet to see that Nancy was warmed and fed +after her long cold walk, and took Florimel into the library to see what +they really could do for this poor but honest girl.</p> + +<p>Florimel at first insisted upon having her for her own little maid, but +her papa convinced her that Nancy was too ignorant for such a position; +and they finally decided that the best thing to do for her would be to +give her a good home, where she could learn to do all kinds of nice +work, and could also go to school.</p> + +<p>"Why, papa, I know the very place for Nancy. Nurse Susan lives all +alone, now her niece has gone out to service, and Nancy could live with +her."</p> + +<p>"That is a very bright thought, little daughter. It would be a comfort +to Susan to have a young girl with her, and the money we should pay for +Nancy's board would lighten her expenses. Let us send now for Nancy, and +see if she likes the idea."</p> + +<p>Did Nance like the idea?</p> + +<p>Did she like to think she need never go back to the bustling, dusty +mill; that she need not go again to that miserable tenement-house which +she called home, where she shared one tiny room with seven other girls; +that she need not know again what it was to battle with hunger and cold? +Did she like to feel that she should have a home in the sweet fresh +country; that her work should be in a garden, in a dairy, in a neat +little cottage; that clothing, food, and the learning to be a good woman +would lie within her reach?</p> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="LIFE_ON_BOARD_A_TRAINING-SHIP" id="LIFE_ON_BOARD_A_TRAINING-SHIP"></a>LIFE ON BOARD A TRAINING-SHIP.</h2> + +<p>Training-ships, on board which boys are taught to become first-rate +seamen, form an important portion of every navy; and in the accompanying +sketches our artist has endeavored to convey correct ideas of the daily +life of these boys to those of our readers who live far inland, are not +familiar with ships and sailors, and who perhaps have never seen the +sea.</p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 269px;"> +<img src="images/ill_008.jpg" width="269" height="400" alt="FURLING SAIL." title="" /> +<span class="caption">FURLING SAIL.</span> +</div> + +<p>The first sketch is one showing the boys undergoing a part of their sail +drill, and engaged in furling the mizzen top-gallant-sail and royal. The +sails of a man-of-war are furled and stowed with the utmost care and +precision, so that the ends of the yard look exactly alike, and +sometimes the boys have to do their work over and over again before the +critical eye of the officer watching them is satisfied. In storms, when +the great ship rolls so that the yard-arms sometimes touch the water, +lying out on them and furling sails is very difficult and dangerous +work,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_212" id="Page_212">[Pg 212]</a></span> and it is only on account of the constant drill they have +received during fair weather that the boys are able to accomplish the +task under these circumstances.</p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 700px;"> +<img src="images/ill_009.jpg" width="700" height="342" alt="BATH-ROOM." title="" /> +<span class="caption">BATH-ROOM.</span> +</div> + +<p>Above all things, on these training-ships the boys are obliged to keep +themselves neat and clean. They are expected to bathe frequently, and +are always compelled to do so on Sunday. The bath-room, provided with +tubs, basins, and a plentiful supply of water, is located in the bows, +in the extreme forward part of the ship.</p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 700px;"> +<img src="images/ill_010.jpg" width="700" height="242" alt="SCHOOL-ROOM." title="" /> +<span class="caption">SCHOOL-ROOM.</span> +</div> + +<p>Generally amidships, but sometimes in the stern of the ship, is the +school-room; for sailor boys have other things to learn besides the +practical sailing of a ship. In this school-room the young sailors spend +four or five hours of each day, and are taught reading, writing, +arithmetic, history, geography, and grammar.</p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 700px;"> +<img src="images/ill_011.jpg" width="700" height="263" alt="DINNER-TIME: EIGHT BELLS." title="" /> +<span class="caption">DINNER-TIME: EIGHT BELLS.</span> +</div> + +<p>At noon, or eight bells, as they say on shipboard, the bugles sound the +dinner call, and from all parts of the ship the boys tumble down the +hatchways to the berth-deck,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_213" id="Page_213">[Pg 213]</a></span> where is a long row of short tables swung +from the ceiling, and where the young sailors eat the bountiful dinner +provided for them as only healthy, hearty boys can eat.</p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 700px;"> +<img src="images/ill_012.jpg" width="700" height="272" alt="ORLOP DECK, OR COCKPIT." title="" /> +<span class="caption">ORLOP DECK, OR COCKPIT.</span> +</div> + +<p>The fourth or lowest deck of the ship is called the "orlop deck," and it +is here that the boys stow away their muskets and cutlasses after drill. +On this deck also the boys receive at four bells, or six o'clock in the +evening, the allowance of bread and molasses, or treacle, that composes +their regular supper.</p> + +<div class="figleft" style="width: 334px;"> +<img src="images/ill_013.jpg" width="334" height="400" alt="SERVING OUT BREAD AND TREACLE." title="" /> +<span class="caption">SERVING OUT BREAD AND TREACLE.</span> +</div> + +<div class="figright" style="width: 333px;"> +<img src="images/ill_014.jpg" width="333" height="400" alt="GUN PRACTICE." title="" /> +<span class="caption">GUN PRACTICE.</span> +</div> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 700px;"> +<img src="images/ill_015.jpg" width="700" height="383" alt="GUN-DECK—FIRING A SALUTE." title="" /> +<span class="caption">GUN-DECK—FIRING A SALUTE.</span> +</div> + +<p>Next to the sail drill, perhaps the most important is the gun drill, or +practice with the heavy guns. This gun drill is not important merely +because the guns are to be used in case of a fight, but because they are +also used in the firing of salutes. These salutes must be fired whenever +another man-of-war comes into port or a distinguished officer comes on +board, on national holidays, and at many other times; therefore it is +very important that the boys should be familiar with the great guns. +Each gun has its crew, each one of whom has an especial duty to perform. +The long cord that the boy in the last picture holds in his hand is +called a lanyard; and as he pulls it with a smart jerk, a hammer falls +on the breech of the gun, and with a roar that shakes the ship, the +great gun is fired.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_214" id="Page_214">[Pg 214]</a></span></p> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 600px;"><a name="OUR_POST_OFFICE_BOX" id="OUR_POST_OFFICE_BOX"></a> +<img src="images/ill_016.jpg" width="600" height="255" alt="OUR POST-OFFICE BOX." title="" /> +</div> + +<p> +<span style="margin-left: 34em;"><span class="smcap">San Francisco, California</span>.</span><br /> +</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>I am twelve years old, and go to the Lincoln School. It is so +called because it has a statue of Abraham Lincoln in front of it. +It was built in 1864, has over twelve hundred pupils enrolled, and +I think it is the best school in the city. I have been making vases +out of Farallon eggs to send East to my cousins. The eggs come from +the Farallon Islands, twenty-one miles outside of the Golden Gate. +They are of a blue color, and have marks on them that look like +hieroglyphics. The birds that lay them are a species of gull. I was +born in San Francisco, and have lived here most of my life. Four +years I spent up in the mountains on a farm, or ranch, as they call +it here.</p></div> + +<p> +<span style="margin-left: 42em;"><span class="smcap">Charles W. S.</span></span><br /> +</p> + +<p>Farallon, the name of these islands near the entrance to San Francisco +Bay, is a Spanish word signifying a small pointed islet in the ocean. +The islands, of which there are six, are so called because they consist +of rugged towering peaks of granite! A more desolate place could not +well be imagined. There is nearly always a fierce wind blowing, and the +waves dash wildly into the numerous spouting caves along the rocky +coast. There is a light-house here three hundred and sixty feet above +the sea, and its keepers are the only human inhabitants of the desolate +sea-bound rock; but thousands of sea-lions congregate upon the cliffs, +and vast numbers of gulls and wild rabbits make their home there. During +the egging season men visit the islands, and gather thousands of eggs +for the San Francisco market. A very interesting account of these +islands, is given in Mr. Nordhoff's book on <i>Northern California, +Oregon, and the Sandwich Islands</i>.</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p> +<span style="margin-left: 34em;"><span class="smcap">Fort Assiniboine, Montana Territory</span>.</span><br /> +</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>I am always glad to see <span class="smcap">Young People</span> come with papa's mail. Out +here in the wilderness we do not often see nice papers; but then we +see what city people never see—plenty of Indians. Many of them are +very poor, and so hungry that they pick bread and scraps of meat +out of the swill barrels to eat—old stuff that the soldiers have +thrown away. I think people should send the poor Indians something +to eat. I send you a picture of some Indians as they look hunting +for food this cold day. I am only nine years old, and can not draw +very good pictures.</p></div> + +<p> +<span style="margin-left: 42em;"><span class="smcap">Bertie Brown</span>.</span><br /> +</p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 500px;"> +<img src="images/ill_017.jpg" width="500" height="321" alt="INDIANS HUNTING FOR FOOD.—Drawn by Bertie Brown." title="" /> +<span class="caption">INDIANS HUNTING FOR FOOD.—<span class="smcap">Drawn by Bertie Brown.</span></span> +</div> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p> +<span style="margin-left: 34em;"><span class="smcap">Worcester, Massachusetts</span>.</span><br /> +</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>I have a canary, which is the only live pet I ever had. It was +eight months old the 17th of February. I plant canary-seed, and let +it grow until it is about two inches high, and then I give it to my +canary. It likes to eat it very much.</p></div> + +<p> +<span style="margin-left: 42em;"><span class="smcap">Louie E. Ware</span>.</span><br /> +</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>I live way off in Washington Territory, and thought I would tell +you something about this distant country. We live near the Simcoe +Mountains. They are covered with evergreen pines. We can see the +snow-capped mountains every day in the year—Mounts Jefferson, +Hood, St. Helen's, and Adams. It snows here sometimes in winter, +but the wind comes up from the sea, and takes it away in a few +days. I do not live near any school, but I study and recite my +lessons at home. Six miles away, at the new town of Goldendale, +there is an academy, and they are teaching in it now. I am ten +years old, and was born in this country. Sometimes troops of +Indians come riding past on their spotted ponies. They bring salmon +from the Columbia River, huckleberries from the mountains, and now +and then ponies to sell. I am very fond of reading, and am +delighted with <span class="smcap">Young People</span>. I read every word in it.</p></div> + +<p> +<span style="margin-left: 42em;"><span class="smcap">Gertrude Balch</span>.</span><br /> +</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p> +<span style="margin-left: 34em;"><span class="smcap">Heckatoo, Arkansas</span>.</span><br /> +</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>I am a little girl eight years old. I take <span class="smcap">Young People</span>, and like +it very much. I have a doll named Laura Martin. I live on a cotton +plantation on the Arkansas River, and I can stand on the front +gallery of our house and see all the boats that pass. We have never +been to school, and we have no governess now, so mamma has to teach +us. We have a great many pecan-nut trees here, and there is a pond +near our house with a boat on it, and my sister and I row +sometimes.</p></div> + +<p> +<span style="margin-left: 42em;"><span class="smcap">Cynthia R. Smith</span>.</span><br /> +</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p> +<span style="margin-left: 34em;"><span class="smcap">Utica, New York</span>.</span><br /> +</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>I am six years old. My birthday was the 18th of January, and mamma +gave me a little party. We had a nice time, and sat down to tea all +by ourselves, without any grown people. I have two birdies; they +will put their little heads clear out of the cage, and take seeds +from my mouth. Sometimes they nip my tongue, and one birdie will +fly out right into the cup I keep seed in. I taught them to eat in +that way by not letting them have anything until they would take +it.</p></div> + +<p> +<span style="margin-left: 42em;"><span class="smcap">Bessie L. Carter</span>.</span><br /> +</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>Papa brought me the numbers of <span class="smcap">Young People</span> a few days ago. I had +been waiting anxiously for them, and I was so delighted when he +gave them to me. I have known all about Harpers' publications for a +long time. Mamma says that papa took <span class="smcap">Harper's Magazine</span> long ago, +before the war. I like the stories, letter-box, and puzzles in +<span class="smcap">Young People</span> very much, and I have succeeded in getting answers to +some of the puzzles. My pets are cats and dogs, and I would like to +get a parrot. Alabama was my native place, but now I live in +Maryland.</p></div> + +<p> +<span style="margin-left: 42em;"><span class="smcap">Lidie B. Duke</span>.</span><br /> +</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p> +<span style="margin-left: 34em;"><span class="smcap">Russelville, Arkansas</span>.</span><br /> +</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>I thought you might like to know about "Dr. Pruitt's boys," so I +concluded to write you a letter. I am Will, aged twelve; then there +are Fred, Edward, and Charley. Papa takes <span class="smcap">Harper's Monthly</span>, and +mamma takes the <span class="smcap">Bazar</span>, and when <span class="smcap">Young People</span> was advertised papa +proposed that each of us give something and take that too. We four +boys earned just one hundred dollars picking cotton last fall, so +we all contributed. We like the paper very much, and watch for its +coming; and we read everything in it.</p></div> + +<p> +<span style="margin-left: 42em;"><span class="smcap">Will E. Pruitt</span>.</span><br /> +</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p> +<span style="margin-left: 34em;"><span class="smcap">Grand Island, Nebraska</span>.</span><br /> +</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>I am ten years old. My uncle takes <span class="smcap">Young People</span> for me, and I can +hardly wait until it comes. I have got the elephant on his four +legs, and he looks well. I have a little prairie-dog named Jenny. +It lives in a hole in the yard, where I think it must have a good +nest, for I gave it lots of rags last fall to put in the hole. It +comes to the house almost every day to get something to eat, and +seems glad to see us. I have also a little dog named Frisk, only I +sold one-half interest in him yesterday for twenty-five cents to a +doctor who lives next door. He wanted him for his baby to play +with. Can you tell me what kind of a place a junk-shop is?</p></div> + +<p> +<span style="margin-left: 42em;"><span class="smcap">Harry K. Heffleman</span>.</span><br /> +</p> + +<p>A junk-shop is where old ropes, old anchors, old iron, and cast-off odds +and ends of all kinds are kept for sale. There are many such shops to be +found in every large city, and if it is a seaport, they are generally +located near the waterfront, as a vast quantity of such rubbish is +picked up along the wharves. In New York city junk dealers drive wagons +round the streets, and buy old stoves or any worn-out household goods.</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p> +<span style="margin-left: 34em;"><span class="smcap">Lonoke, Arkansas</span>.</span><br /> +</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>I found in mamma's front yard, near a brick wall, a little pansy, +which I send you. It bloomed out the 29th of January.</p></div> + +<p> +<span style="margin-left: 42em;"><span class="smcap">Sarah F. S.</span></span><br /> +</p> + +<p>It was fortunate for the little pansy that it was picked and pressed, +for Katie Black writes, also from Arkansas: "There was a very pretty +snow-storm here on the 2d of February. It began in the morning, and +snowed all day."</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p><span class="smcap">Ward A. P.</span>—Your puzzle is neatly done, but as we have already published +one having the same solution, we can not use it.</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p> +<span style="margin-left: 34em;"><span class="smcap">Wheeling, West Virginia</span>.</span><br /> +</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>Can you tell me what five words in the English language end in +"cion"?</p></div> + +<p> +<span style="margin-left: 42em;"><span class="smcap">S. R. W.</span></span><br /> +</p> + +<p>Can any correspondent answer this question?</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p><span class="smcap">J. R. B.</span>—Jupiter will be evening star until March 15, morning star +until October 6. Mars will be evening star until October 25. Saturn will +be evening star until April 7, morning star until October 18. Venus will +be morning star until July 13, evening star the rest of the year.</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p><span class="smcap">Kate</span>.—You may write us any interesting things you know about +prairie-dogs in Kansas.</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>"<span class="smcap">Jonathan</span>."—You will find brief accounts of the ancient Roman +road-builders in any history of Rome, also in <i>Appleton's Encyclopedia</i> +under "Roads." <i>Lemprière's Classical Dictionary</i> also contains much +information, especially of the Appia Via.</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p><span class="smcap">Mae W. T.</span>—"The Youthful Philomathesians" would be a pretty name for +your literary society. Philomathesian is a Greek word signifying loving +to learn, or lover of knowledge.</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p><span class="smcap">Walter S. Dodge</span>.—The picture on the first page of <span class="smcap">Young People</span> No. 14 +is a fac-simile of a pencil drawing reproduced by a photographic +process.</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>Very neat "Wiggles" are received from R. V. R., Hattie Strong, and F. B. +Myers, which we regret being unable to publish.</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p><span class="smcap">Louise S.</span>—You write so prettily that we are sorry your enigma is not +good enough to print. Do not be discouraged. Try again, and the next +time see if you can not make rhymes.</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p><span class="smcap">John F. S.</span>—Persevere with your locomotive-engine drawing, and some day +you may be able to put it to good use. Engines and machinery of all +kinds are good things for a boy to become familiar with, and if you are +really fond of them cultivate your inclination all you can.</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>Netta Franklin, Freddie C., Emma S., Pussy K., and Robbie V. R. are very +youthful correspondents who favor us with letters printed<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_215" id="Page_215">[Pg 215]</a></span> with +remarkable neatness. May R. also writes a very legible "Wiggle." When +you learn to print, little girl, write again.</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>Acknowledgments for favors are due to C. Fannie Anderson, William F. B., +John T. I., Perceval Hill, Frank Yarington, Angie T. Tenny, Florence G., +Istalina Beach, George P. R., Orie Maude, Albert A., Mary Buchanan, +Jennie E. Anderson, Myrtle Gilman, Alice M. S., Minta Holman, Mary F. W., +Walter Jennings, Locke S., Sue Dawson, Ida S., Annie Black, Freddie +L., Minnie Parker, Della L. Grimshaw, Bert Wellman, Eliza E. Crowell, +Clarence C. Culver, Ada R., Ida M. C., Mary Landon S., Arthur D. Miller, +Eddie Carnes, Bertha B. H., Daisy J. M., Katie Bouck, W. C. B.</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>Correct answers to puzzles received from Effie K. T., P. S. Heffleman, +C. F. Langdon, Louise Swift, Maude K. Smith, E. and M. D., Florence +Schaffenburg, H. M. H., J. H. Merrick, Harry E. Sears, Lewis K. Davis, +M. Barton, P. Karberg, "the Boys, Bessie, Mamma, and I," Katie W., Harry +S., Pussy Kellogg.</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<h4>ANSWERS TO PUZZLES IN NO. 14.</h4> + +<p>The following solution to "A Latin Word Square," on page 155, is from a +correspondent in Pennsylvania:</p> + +<div class='center'> +<table border="0" cellpadding="4" cellspacing="0" summary=""> +<tr><td align='left'>R</td><td align='left'>O</td><td align='left'>M</td><td align='left'>A</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>O</td><td align='left'>L</td><td align='left'>I</td><td align='left'>M</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>M</td><td align='left'>I</td><td align='left'>L</td><td align='left'>O</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>A</td><td align='left'>M</td><td align='left'>O</td><td align='left'>R</td></tr> +</table></div> + +<p> +<span style="margin-left: 23em;">The square is made of magic spells</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 25em;">That speak of Horace and of Homer;</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 23em;">The third the glory that was Greece,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 25em;">The first the grandeur that was <i>Roma</i>.</span><br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 26em;">Tales of eating and of drinking,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 26em;">And of falling roofs upholden,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 29em;">Call up <i>Milo</i>;</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 26em;"><i>Milo</i> backward murmurs <i>Olim</i>,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 26em;">These, all these, were in the olden</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 29em;">Time long ago.</span><br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 23em;">Lo! in yon brilliant window niche</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 24em;">My fourth—how statue-like he stands!</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 24em;">His bow and arrow in his hands,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 23em;">Ah, <i>Amor</i>, from the regions which</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 27em;">Are Holy Lands.</span><br /> +</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p class="center">Answer to "Throwing Light," on page 168—"Draught, draft."</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>We have received numerous answers to the Puzzle Picture on page 168, +which are correct with the exception that more beasts are there than any +one has yet discovered. A great many little folks have found seven. Only +one has found eight. There are nine concealed in the picture, and we +give one more week in which to hunt for them before publishing the +answer.</p> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>ADVERTISEMENTS.</h2> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>HARPER'S YOUNG PEOPLE.</h2> + +<p><span class="smcap">Harper's Young People</span> will be issued every Tuesday, and may be had at +the following rates—<i>payable in advance, postage free</i>:</p> + +<div class='center'> +<table border="0" cellpadding="4" cellspacing="0" summary=""> +<tr><td align='left'><span class="smcap">Single Copies</span></td><td align='right'>$0.04</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><span class="smcap">One Subscription</span>, <i>one year</i></td><td align='right'>1.50</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><span class="smcap">Five Subscriptions</span>, <i>one year</i></td><td align='right'>7.00</td></tr> +</table></div> + +<p>Subscriptions may begin with any Number. When no time is specified, it +will be understood that the subscriber desires to commence with the +Number issued after the receipt of order.</p> + +<p>Remittances should be made by POST-OFFICE MONEY ORDER or DRAFT, to avoid +risk of loss.</p> + +<h3>ADVERTISING.</h3> + +<p>The extent and character of the circulation of <span class="smcap">Harper's Young People</span> +will render it a first-class medium for advertising. A limited number of +approved advertisements will be inserted on two inside pages at 75 cents +per line.</p> + +<p> +<span style="margin-left: 25em;">Address</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 30em;">HARPER & BROTHERS,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 35em;">Franklin Square, N. Y.</span><br /> +</p> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h1>CANDY</h1> + +<p>Send one, two, three, or five dollars for a sample box, by express, of +the best Candies in America, put up elegantly and strictly pure. Refers +to all Chicago. Address</p> + +<h3>C. F. GUNTHER,</h3> + +<h4>Confectioner,</h4> + +<h4>78 MADISON STREET, CHICAGO.</h4> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>CHILDREN'S</h2> + +<h2>PICTURE-BOOKS.</h2> + +<p class="center">Square 4to, about 300 pages each, beautifully printed on Tinted Paper, +embellished with many Illustrations, bound in Cloth, $1.50 per volume.</p> + +<h3>The Children's Picture-Book of Sagacity of Animals.</h3> + +<p class="center">With Sixty Illustrations by <span class="smcap">Harrison Weir</span>.</p> + +<h3>The Children's Bible Picture-Book.</h3> + +<p class="center">With Eighty Illustrations, from Designs by <span class="smcap">Steinle</span>, <span class="smcap">Overbeck</span>, <span class="smcap">Veit</span>, +<span class="smcap">Schnorr</span>, &c.</p> + +<h3>The Children's Picture Fable-Book.</h3> + +<p class="center">Containing One Hundred and Sixty Fables. With Sixty Illustrations +by <span class="smcap">Harrison Weir</span>.</p> + +<h3>The Children's Picture-Book of Birds.</h3> + +<p class="center">With Sixty-one Illustrations by <span class="smcap">W. Harvey</span>.</p> + +<h3>The Children's Picture-Book of Quadrupeds and other Mammalia.</h3> + +<p class="center">With Sixty-one Illustrations by <span class="smcap">W. Harvey</span>.</p> + +<hr style='width: 25%;' /> + +<h3>Published by HARPER & BROTHERS, New York.</h3> + +<h4>☞ <i>Sent by mail, postage prepaid, to any part of the +United States, on receipt of the price.</i></h4> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>Old Books for Young Readers.</h2> + +<hr style='width: 25%;' /> + +<h3>Arabian Nights' Entertainments.</h3> + +<p class="center">The Thousand and One Nights; or, The Arabian Nights' +Entertainments. Translated and Arranged for Family Reading, with +Explanatory Notes, by <span class="smcap">E. W. Lane</span>. 600 Illustrations by Harvey. 2 +vols., 12mo, Cloth, $3.50.</p> + +<h3>Robinson Crusoe.</h3> + +<p class="center">The Life and Surprising Adventures of Robinson Crusoe, of York, +Mariner. By <span class="smcap">Daniel Defoe</span>. With a Biographical Account of Defoe. +Illustrated by Adams. Complete Edition. 12mo, Cloth, $1.50.</p> + +<h3>The Swiss Family Robinson.</h3> + +<p class="center">The Swiss Family Robinson; or, Adventures of a Father and Mother +and Four Sons on a Desert Island. Illustrated. 2 vols., 18mo, +Cloth, $1.50.</p> + +<p class="center">The Swiss Family Robinson—Continued: being a Sequel to the +Foregoing. 2 vols., 18mo, Cloth, $1.50.</p> + +<h3>Sandford and Merton.</h3> + +<p class="center">The History of Sandford and Merton. By <span class="smcap">Thomas Day</span>. 18mo, Half +Bound, 75 cents.</p> + +<hr style='width: 25%;' /> + +<h3>Published by HARPER & BROTHERS, New York.</h3> + +<h4>☞ <i>Sent by mail, postage prepaid, to any part of the +United States, on receipt of the price.</i></h4> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>BOOKS FOR YOUNG MEN.</h2> + +<hr style='width: 25%;' /> + +<h3>Character.</h3> + +<p class="center">Character. By <span class="smcap">Samuel Smiles</span>. 12mo, Cloth, $1.00.</p> + +<p>It is, in design and execution, more like his "Self-Help" than any of +his other works. Mr. Smiles always writes pleasantly, but he writes +best when he is telling anecdotes, and using them to enforce a moral +that he is too wise to preach about, although he is not afraid to +state it plainly. By means of it "Self-Help" at once became a standard +book, and "Character" is, in its way, quite as good as "Self-Help." +It is a wonderful storehouse of anecdotes and biographical +illustrations.—<i>Examiner</i>, London.</p> + +<hr style='width: 25%;' /> + +<h3>Self-Help.</h3> + +<p class="center">Self-Help; with Illustrations of Character, Conduct, and +Perseverance. By <span class="smcap">Samuel Smiles</span>. New Edition, Revised and Enlarged. +12mo, Cloth, $1.00.</p> + +<p>The writings of Samuel Smiles are a valuable aid in the education of +boys. His style seems to have been constructed entirely for their +tastes; his topics are admirably selected, and his mode of communicating +excellent lessons of enterprise, truth, and self-reliance might be +called insidious and ensnaring if these words did not convey an idea +which is only applicable to lessons of an opposite character and +tendency taught in the same attractive style. The popularity of this +book, "Self-Help," abroad has made it a powerful instrument of good, and +many an English boy has risen from its perusal determined that his life +will be moulded after that of some of those set before him in this +volume. It was written for the youth of another country, but its wealth +of instruction has been recognized by its translation into more than one +European language, and it is not too much to predict for it a popularity +among American boys.—<i>N. Y. World.</i></p> + +<hr style='width: 25%;' /> + +<h3>Thrift.</h3> + +<p class="center">Thrift. By <span class="smcap">Samuel Smiles</span>. 12mo, Cloth, $1.00.</p> + +<p>The mechanic, farmer, apprentice, clerk, merchant, and a large circle of +readers outside of these classes will find in the volume a wide range of +counsel and advice, presented in perspicuous language, and marked +throughout by vigorous good sense; and who, while deriving from it +useful lessons for the guidance of their personal affairs, will also he +imbibing valuable instruction in an important branch of political +economy. We wish it could be placed in the hands of all our +youth—especially those who expect to be merchants, artisans, or +farmers.—<i>Christian Intelligencer</i>, N. Y.</p> + +<p>In this useful and sensible work, which should be in the hands of all +classes of readers, especially of those whose means are slender, the +author does for private economy what Smith and Ricardo and Bastiat have +done for national economy. * * * The one step which separates +civilization from savagery—which renders civilization possible—is +labor done in excess of immediate necessity. * * * To inculcate this +most necessary and most homely of all virtues, we have met with no +better teacher than this book.—<i>N. Y. World.</i></p> + +<hr style='width: 25%;' /> + +<h3>Published by HARPER & BROTHERS, New York.</h3> + +<h4>☞ <i>Sent by mail, postage prepaid, to any part of the +United States, on receipt of the price.</i></h4> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_216" id="Page_216">[Pg 216]</a></span></p> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="THE_FIRE-FLY_GAME" id="THE_FIRE-FLY_GAME"></a>THE FIRE-FLY GAME.</h2> + +<div class="figleft" style="width: 250px;"> +<img src="images/ill_018.jpg" width="250" height="242" alt="" title="" /> +</div> + +<div class="figright" style="width: 250px;"> +<img src="images/ill_019.jpg" width="250" height="237" alt="" title="" /> +</div> + +<p>The game of fire-fly is very graceful and amusing for dull days or +winter evenings in the house. Out of a piece of Bristol-board (an old +playing-card will do) cut a figure in the shape of the annexed diagram. +If you have water-colors, and can paint it brightly in red and green or +red and yellow stripes, all the better. Lay it flat on the cover of a +book so that part of one of the wings projects over the edge; hold the +book at a slight angle, pointing toward the ceiling, and then with a +pencil or pen-holder give the projecting wing a smart blow, so as to +send it flying upward; it will go twirling through the air toward the +ceiling, and then return twirling back to the neighborhood of your feet. +The game consists in trying to catch it on the cover of the book when it +comes back. If you succeed, it counts you ten points; if you fail, you +allow the fly to lie where it has fallen. Your adversary now takes his +turn, and if he fails to catch his fly, then you see which fly has +fallen nearest to a certain line on the floor on which you have +previously agreed, and the owner of the nearest fly scores five. Whoever +first scores one hundred wins the game.</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p><b>A School in Morocco.</b>—If one, happening to be in the south of Spain some +day, should run across the Straits of Gibraltar in a southwesterly +direction, he would come to the ancient city of Tangier, in Morocco. +Here he would see many curious sights, but none more picturesque than +the schools for children, of which there are several. A row of tiny +slippers at the door and a hum of childish voices inside prompt the +passer-by to look in. He sees a room, empty of furniture, and lit only +by the open door. The school-master, a veritable Moses in appearance, is +squatted on his haunches in the centre, and around him squat his pupils. +Each has his slate before him, and repeats his lesson with monotonous +chant, keeping his body moving backward and forward as if he were rowing +hard the whole time against stream. The school-master's whip is of +sufficient length to reach every boy around him, and now and then, +without rising from his seat, he touches one or other up in the same +manner as the driver of a mail-coach takes a fly off his leader's ear. +The imperturbable gravity of the master, and the comical looks and +quaint attire of the boys, form a picture which could not be transferred +to canvas.</p> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 158px;"> +<img src="images/ill_020.jpg" width="158" height="200" alt="" title="" /> +</div> + +<h2>THE CHICKEN PUZZLE.</h2> + +<p>Here is an orange. With four cuts of the scissors and the prick of a pin +transform it into a chicken.</p> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHARADE" id="CHARADE"></a>CHARADE.</h2> + +<p> +<span style="margin-left: 24em;">My first belongs to an ancient race;</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 24em;">They say his pedigree he can trace</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 25em;">To the time of the ark, and before;</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 24em;">But this I know, though his family tree</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 24em;">Be spread as wide as the sounding sea,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 25em;">He was <i>not</i> a companion of Noah.</span><br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 24em;">My next in death plays a cruel part,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 24em;">And yet 'tis dear to a woman's heart,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 25em;">And sets her pulse beating high.</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 24em;">Of all sizes and shapes, it can fly or bound;</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 24em;">When most 'tis inflated it trails on the ground;</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 25em;">When base, then it soars in the sky.</span><br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 24em;">My whole is extracted from earth and from sea;</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 24em;">Compounded with care, from obstacles free,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 25em;">'Tis dear to the Yankee, I own.</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 24em;">'Tis famous in song, and famous in story,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 24em;">And yet 'tis indebted for most of its glory</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 25em;">To the time when 'twas taken alone.</span><br /> +</p> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 700px;"> +<img src="images/ill_021.jpg" width="700" height="406" alt="PUSSY AT A DISADVANTAGE.—"WOULDN'T YOU LIKE TO COME IN?"" title="" /> +<span class="caption">PUSSY AT A DISADVANTAGE.—"WOULDN'T YOU LIKE TO COME IN?"</span> +</div> + + + + + + + + +<pre> + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Harper's Young People, February 24, +1880, by Various + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK HARPER'S YOUNG PEOPLE, FEB 24, 1880 *** + +***** This file should be named 28362-h.htm or 28362-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/2/8/3/6/28362/ + +Produced by Annie McGuire + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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