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Project Gutenberg's Harper's Young People, May 25, 1880, by Various

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Title: Harper's Young People, May 25, 1880
       An Illustrated Weekly

Author: Various

Release Date: May 22, 2009 [EBook #28923]

Language: English

Character set encoding: ASCII

*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK HARPER'S YOUNG PEOPLE, MAY 25, 1880 ***




Produced by Annie McGuire








[Illustration: HARPER'S

YOUNG PEOPLE

AN ILLUSTRATED WEEKLY.]


       *       *       *       *       *

VOL. I.--NO. 30. PUBLISHED BY HARPER & BROTHERS, NEW YORK. PRICE FOUR
CENTS.

Tuesday, May 25, 1880. Copyright, 1880, by HARPER & BROTHERS. $1.50 per
Year, in Advance.

       *       *       *       *       *




[Illustration: A MOTHER'S ANXIETIES--"WATER, WATER, EVERYWHERE!"]




[Illustration]

MEMORIAL FLOWERS.

BY M. M.

  Blue violets open their saintly eyes,
    Red columbines bend and sway,
  White star-flowers twinkle in beds of moss,
    And, blooming, they seem to say,
  "We bring you the red and the white and the blue
    To welcome Memorial-day."

  So gather them, children, at earliest dawn,
    While yet they are fresh with dew,
  And we'll scatter them over the sacred mounds
    Where slumber our soldiers true;
  For we'll give them only the colors they loved--
    The red and the white and the blue.




HOW JONATHAN BEWITCHED THE CHICKENS.

BY MARY HICKS.


"Hurrah! hurrah! Now for a long play-day; the school-master's a witch,
and we are free;" and some twenty boys came flocking and tumbling out of
the school-house door, and went swarming up the street. Not much like
the boys of to-day, except for the noise, were these twenty youngsters
of nearly two centuries ago, who skipped and ran up the streets of
Boston, dressed in their long square-skirted coats, small-clothes, long
stockings, and low shoes with their cherished buckles of silver or
brass. And very different from to-day were the streets through which
they passed as they flocked homeward talking of the master.

"He'll have naught to do but learn of the Black Man now; they do say he
rides his ferule and bunch of twigs high up in the air, like Mistress
Hibbins used her broom-stick," cried William Bartholomew, the sneak of
the school.

"He best have been switching thee with it, then," cried Jonathan
Winthrop. "Thou never hast thy share of the whippings--does he, mates?"
and frank-faced Jonathan turned to his companions.

"Truly thou and I, Jonathan, need not complain that we have not our
share of the fun and the twigs," laughed Christopher Corwin, as he laid
his arm on Jonathan's, and shrugged his shoulders at the thought of
numerous beatings. For Jonathan Winthrop and Christopher Corwin, with
their plots and pranks, were enough to make poor Master Halleck sell his
soul to the Evil One, as report said he had done.

"His ferule was sharp as a knife," said overgrown Jo Tucker, the butt of
the school.

"Truly," cried William Bartholomew, "sharper than thy wits, we doubt
not; or thy knife either, for that was never known to cut aught."

"Keep thy tongue in thy head, Billy Mew; none ever said that was not
sharp enough," put in Christopher Corwin.

"I do not believe he is a witch," said Samuel Shaddoe, a quiet boy,
dressed in very plain drab clothes, and a wider brimmed hat than the
others.

"Oh, doesn't thee?" cried several.

"Thou art but a Quaker thyself, and a Quaker's as bad as a witch any
day," shouted Robert Pike.

"There, muddle thy stockings in yon mud puddle for that speech, thou
water-loving Baptist," cried Christopher Corwin, as he jostled Baptist
Bob in some water by the way.

"Hurrah for the witch, and a long play-day!" cried the boys.

"Peace! peace! ye noisy urchins!" said Magistrate Sewall, as he stepped
suddenly from a doorway. "The master has imps of the earth as well as
the air, I see. Get ye home less noisily, or we must needs put ye in
yonder prison with the master."

The awe of the magistrate's presence had the desired effect, and the
crowd broke up in groups of two or three, and each took his way homeward
quietly.

"Jonathan, doest thou believe the master dotted his i's and crossed his
t's when he signed his name in the Black Man's book in the forest
yonder?" said Christopher, as the two boys walked home together.

"Nay, I know not," said Jonathan, absently.

"Verily, I hope the Black Man cracked him across his knuckles, if he did
not," said Christopher; and he thought of his own often-aching fists.

"Chris, thou art too wise to believe the poor master's a witch," said
Jonathan.

"Nay, how could I be, when the magistrates themselves, and all the wise
men of the town, believe it?"

"Thou doest not believe the master stuck pins in Job Swinnerton's
stomach?"

"Nay," laughed Chris; "the green apples from Deacon Gedney's orchard
were the cause of his pain."

"But, Chris, I'm afraid it will go hard with the master, for all the
boys but thou and I seem bent on making him a witch."

"Well, trouble not thyself about it. As Billy Mew says, if the master's
a witch, we will have the longer play-day. To-morrow I go to my
grandfather's, in Salem, and thou come over with thy father some day; it
will be rare fun to see the witch children act."

"Peradventure I may. It will be dull without thee, Chris; and with the
rest of the boys making the master out a witch, they'll have no time for
play."

"Well, take care of thyself, good fellow, and beware thou doest not
provoke Dame Betty too far; she has a rare relish for calling people
witches."

"Ay, that she has. There's a pail of water now at her door, and she's
talking with our Debby, I doubt not: let's turn the bottom up to dry;"
and in a wink the two boys were off for this bit of mischief.

In a few days all were off to Salem--Jonathan's father as one of the
judges, the master to be tried for a witch, with those of the children
whom he had afflicted as accusers, and jolly Chris to see the fun.

It was very lonesome for Jonathan at home, for he had no brothers or
sisters, his mother was always sick, and Debby spent all her spare time
talking with a crony across the way of the witch-woman, Bridget Bishop,
then on trial for witchcraft.

So Jonathan made playmates of and amused himself with the chickens of
the Rev. Deodat Parker, who lived next door. Now these chickens were the
source of much pleasure to Jonathan, for the Winthrops had none, neither
Jonathan nor Debby being deemed fit to be trusted with them; and
Jonathan envied the Rev. Deodat Parker his yard full of staid old fowls
and lively young chicks. Early in the spring Jonathan had loved to
caress and cuddle up the little rolls of yellow and black down; but now
that they were great stalking, ragged fowls, putting on all sorts of
airs, they excited his ridicule, and he longed to tease them, and the
last year's brood of clucking hens and crowing roosters, that didn't
quite know what to make of these new-comers.

Once he would have gone over in the yard to play with and tease the
chickens to his heart's content; but Dame Betty having traced the
overturned pail and numerous other tricks to his door, he considered her
an enemy in ambush, liable to fly out at any moment with a stout
broom-stick or hot suds, and so wisely kept at a safe distance.

But roosted on the fence, with a handful of corn, Jonathan's fears were
at rest, and he fed the chickens, drove the old roosters nearly wild
with long and loud crowing, and sometimes made a hasty jump into the
yard to set two ruffled, ambitious roosters fighting.

Now Jonathan teased and bothered the poor fowls so continually that they
began to grow afraid of him, and would not come when he called them,
much to his indignation. But one day he thought of a plan, and went
straightway to work at it.

First he went to his mother's work-basket and got a spool of thread,
then to the meal chest for a handful of corn. Sitting down on the
door-step, he tied long strings of thread to each grain of corn, then
climbed the fence, and commenced what was fun for him, but misery for
the poor chickens.

"Chick, chick," called Jonathan; and he threw his handful of corn to the
ground. "Now I've got ye, ye disobliging things," said he to himself, as
the stout old hens and pompous roosters pushed the young ones aside, and
gobbled up the corn.

Then Jonathan gave a sudden jerk to his strings, that caused the poor
chickens to feel more uncomfortable in their stomachs than they ever had
before, and made the roosters dance, and the poor old hens tumble and
bob around in all directions. Mischievous Jonathan sat and laughed until
he tumbled off the fence, which broke the strings, and set the poor
fowls free.

This mischief Jonathan carried on for a few days, until the wily chicks
would not come to get the corn when they saw him, and he had to hide
behind the fence until the poor things had swallowed their uncomfortable
morsel, and then he would pop up to see the fun.

But Betty had her eyes on Master Jonathan, and one morning, while
waiting on table, spoke her mind as follows:

"Master, I know not what's to be done with that brat Jonathan Winthrop;
now that his father's away, he behaves more unseemly than wont. The
master on trial yonder has made him a witch, and he has bewitched our
chickens."

"Why for, my good Betty?"

"Why for? Why, they scream and fly away from him on first sight; and
then he bewitches them nearer, and they are filled with pain seemingly,
and flutter and fly about as if in great distress."

"Some of his pranks, I doubt not. I'll speak to him. Serve a fowl for
dinner, Betty;" and the Rev. Deodat Parker rose from the table,
evidently not crediting Betty's story.

Well, the fowl was served for dinner, and the minister and his good wife
ate heartily, likewise Dame Betty. But that night the minister had an
uncomfortable time of it, for the fowl was a tough old hen, and didn't
sit as quietly on the minister's stomach as she would on a nest full of
eggs.

"To my thinking, that boy's a witch of the Black Man's own brewing,"
said Betty, the next morning. "He hath bewitched our chickens, for
certain."

"Nonsense, Betty," said the minister and his good wife together.

"Verily, no nonsense," snapped back Dame Betty. "That hen was bewitched
I killed and cooked yesterday, as the eating of it has proved to the
master. Never hen had such legs, or was so hard to kill; and, hark ye! I
could not keep water in the pot," said Betty, mysteriously.

"Verily, this is a matter to be looked into. Thou thinkest the boy a
witch?" And the Rev. Deodat Parker, uncomfortable from his disturbed
night, was more willing to believe.

And so, I can hardly tell how, in a short time it was whispered around
that little Jonathan Winthrop was a witch, and had bewitched the Rev.
Deodat Parker's chickens.

One day Dame Betty walked into the minister's study, and said, "Master,
come and see for thyself."

So the minister called his good wife, and the three took their station
behind a closed blind. And there, sure enough, was Master Jonathan
astride the fence, waving his hands in the air, in what seemed to them
some dreadful incantation, while on the ground four old hens and one
miserable rooster were bobbing and squawking like things bewitched.

Now, unfortunately, the minister and his good wife and old Betty could
not see the strings in Jonathan's hands, and so immediately believed him
a true witch.

"Deodat, it must be seen to," said Goodwife Parker.

"Yes, I will go at once for a magistrate." And the old gentleman hurried
off with unseemly haste, and returned in a short time with two
magistrates and a brother clergyman, all considerably out of breath as
they took their station behind the blind to see the wonderful
manifestations.

And Jonathan was at it yet. Owing to the chickens being so hard to
catch, he prolonged the fun when he did catch them. As the solemn
magistrates peeped out, Jonathan gave a jerk to his threads that made
the poor fowls fly toward him, fluttering and squawking like mad; and as
he let the thread out again they ran away with all their might, only to
be twitched back by their tormentor, who laughed until he cried at their
antics.

The two magistrates and brother clergyman were old, as nearly all men in
office were in those days, and their eyes saw no strings either. So they
had a long talk, and decided Jonathan had best be arrested and tried,
lest he should bewitch people next.

But on that day little Deliverance Parker, the minister's granddaughter,
who lived out beyond the town, came to make a visit at her
grandfather's, and she was told by Dame Betty that she must not play
with Jonathan Winthrop as she used to do, for he was a witch, and had
bewitched their chickens. And then Dame Betty showed her, as she had
many others, from behind the blinds, Jonathan as he was plaguing the
poor fowls.

Now little Deliverance had sharp eyes, saw the strings plainly, and took
in the trouble at once; but Betty was so set and stupid she could not
convince her, and they would not let her tell Jonathan of his danger.

Fortunately matters came to a crisis that afternoon. The magistrates had
been waiting for Jonathan's father to come home; but as he was kept so
long at Salem, they took matters in their own hands, and brought
Jonathan before quite an assembly in the minister's study.

The poor boy was so frightened at all the stern faces before him that he
didn't know what to say to the charge, and grew so confused and
flustered, they believed him guilty at once.

But little Deliverance waited until the magistrates had finished
talking, and then walked straight before them, and began to speak.

"Verily, he is no witch. He only ties strings to the corn that the poor
fowls eat, and by the aid of the strings pulls them about."

"Thou art mistaken, little one; we saw no strings," said the
magistrates.

"Yes, but there were;" and little Deliverance was so positive, and by
that time Jonathan had found his tongue, and both children explained the
affair so clearly, that the old magistrates looked rather foolish, and
dismissed the case with a reprimand to Jonathan for wasting his time so
foolishly. But some good came of the boy's prank after all. For his
father, seeing how near Jonathan came being proved a witch, bestirred
himself in favor of poor School-master Halleck, who was set free from
prison in consequence.




[Begun in No. 19 of HARPER'S YOUNG PEOPLE, March 9.]

ACROSS THE OCEAN; OR, A BOY'S FIRST VOYAGE.

A True Story.

BY J. O. DAVIDSON.


CHAPTER XII.

THE "HEATHEN CHINEE" AT HOME.

The first sight of China--that region of marvel and mystery, where
everything seems exactly opposite to what one sees at home, and the
fashions of three thousand years ago are supreme as ever--is a great
event in any one's life. So thought Frank Austin, who was on the watch
for the Chinese coast long before it came in sight, although the run
from Singapore was an unusually quick one; for the _Arizona_ exerted all
her speed to "get in for a cargo" before a rival steamer, which had kept
close to her all the way, coming so near at times that the respective
officers could exchange a little good-humored "chaff" through their
speaking-trumpets.

[Illustration: A CHINESE TRADING FLEET SAILING WITH THE MONSOON.]

But our hero got a glimpse of the "Celestials" sooner than he expected.
For the last two or three days of the voyage the sea was literally
covered with Chinese junks, large and small, many of them strongly
manned, and armed with cannon, to guard against the countless pirates of
the "China seas." At every moment it seemed as if the _Arizona_ must run
some of them down; but just as the crash was about to come, the junk
would veer, and slide nimbly away. When several of them came by
together, the barking of dogs, crowing of roosters, and shouts of
children made Frank feel quite as if he were in a town instead of on the
open sea. So steadily do the "trade-winds" (here called "monsoons") blow
from one quarter, that these junks, starting at the same time every
year, often make a whole voyage without shifting sail at all.

Frank was delighted with the picturesque sight, and overwhelmed Herrick
with questions, that the old tar answered readily enough.

"That's right, lad," he would say; "keep your eyes open, and when you
don't know a thing, never be ashamed to ask. That's the way to git
on--you see if it ain't! Why, there's that feller Monkey, now: 'stead o'
lookin' about him when we were at Singapore, I found him fast asleep in
the shadder o' the quarter-boat, never knowin' whether he was in Malacca
or Massachusetts! If you'd been one o' _that_ sort, 'stead o' bein'
supercargo, you'd ha' been shovellin' coal down thar yet?'"

       *       *       *       *       *

For some time past Frank had noticed a curious change in one of the men,
who, after showing himself, a brave and able seaman in the earlier part
of the voyage, had suddenly, without any apparent reason, become so
gloomy and miserable that his mates nicknamed him "Dick Calamity." The
surgeon, though finding no sign of actual illness about the man, had
pronounced him quite unfit for duty, and thenceforth the poor fellow
would sit for hours looking moodily over the side, with a weary,
hopeless expression, which, as Herrick truly said, "made a man's heart
ache to look at."

One evening there was some music on the after-deck (there being several
good musicians among the lady passengers who had come aboard at
Singapore), and Frank, with some of the officers, stood by to listen. As
the last notes of "Home, Sweet Home" died away, Austin's quick ear
caught a smothered sob behind him. Following the sound, he discovered
poor Dick crouching under the lee of one of the boats, and crying like a
child.

Frank spoke to him kindly, but for some time could get nothing from him
but sobs and tears. At last, however, the whole story came out. The man
was homesick.

"I want to be home agin!" he groaned, "and I don't care to live if I
can't. If I could just git one glimpse o' my little farm yonder among
the Vermont hills, it 'ud be worth every cent I've got."

"But you'll soon be home _now_, you know," said Frank, cheerily. "We're
close to Hong-Kong, and you can get a passage home from there whenever
you like."

Dick only shook his head mournfully; but after a time he seemed to grow
quieter, and went below. His mates--who had long since left off making
fun of him, and now did all they could to cheer him up--helped him into
his bunk, and recommended him to go to sleep.

The next morning an unusual bustle on the forecastle attracted Frank's
attention, and he went forward to ask what was the matter.

"Poor Dick's gone and killed himself,"[1] answered one of the men,
sadly. "I was al'ays afeard that 'ud be the end of it."

It was too true. An hour later the poor fellow's body, sewn up in a
hammock, and weighted with a heavy shot, was plunged into the sea; and
Herrick, drawing his rough hand across his eyes, muttered, "_That's_
what comes o' goin' to sea when you ain't fit for it."

       *       *       *       *       *

On the seventh day of the voyage the Chinese coast was seen stretching
like a thin gray cloud along the horizon. Presently the mountains began
to outline themselves against the sky, and as the vessel drew nearer,
the huge dark precipices and smooth green slopes grew plainer and
plainer, while in the background towered the great blue mass of Victoria
Peak, at the foot of which lies Hong-Kong.

[Illustration: CHINESE FISHING FLEET OFF CANTON.]

Frank was not a little puzzled by a number of strange-looking brown
objects that lay close inshore, tumbling and bobbing about like
porpoises. But as the steamer approached, they turned out to be Chinese
"sampans" and fishing-boats, hard at work. Some had white sails
criss-crossed with strips of bamboo, others huge brown sails of woven
matting, like bats' wings; and altogether--what with the brightly
painted boats, the queer faces and gestures of the pigtailed fishermen,
the barking of the big dogs which seemed to act as sentries, the
glittering scales of the fish that came pouring out of the nets, and lay
flapping on the deck, the general bustle and activity--it was a sight
well worth seeing.

Over the after-part of each boat was an awning of straw or matting,
under which the fisherman's family could be seen at work upon their
morning meal of rice and fish, flipping it into their mouths with long
knitting-needles, which Herrick said were the famous Chinese
"chopsticks." They hardly took the trouble to look round at the steamer
as she passed, seeming to care very little whether she happened to run
them down or not.

And now larger junks began to appear, together with not a few foreign
vessels, which seemed to start out of the solid mountain, for as yet no
opening was to be seen. But all at once the _Arizona_ made a sharp turn
to port, around the elbow of a huge headland, and there, through a gap
in the cliffs, appeared the beautiful harbor of Hong-Kong, right
ahead.[2]

"Dutch Gap, by hoe-cake!" cried a tall Virginian, with a joyful grin.

"Ah! don't I jist wish it was!" muttered another, who was beginning to
feel a touch of poor Dick Calamity's complaint.

Gliding past the pretty little islet that sentinels the entrance, the
_Arizona_ ran in and dropped anchor, while the rival steamer, came
slowly up behind her.

[TO BE CONTINUED.]


FOOTNOTES:

[1] A fact.

[2] The Russian port of Balaklava, in the Crimea, has an entrance of the
same kind.




THE STORY OF A WINGED TRAMP.

BY FLETCHER READE.


Tramps, you think, are a modern invention, and a very disagreeable one,
too; but if you had chanced to live so long ago as when the earth was
young, you would know that the institution is a very old and honorable
one.

You would have heard, too, in that far-off golden age, of the winged
tramp--a beautiful youth who spent his life in travelling from place to
place, sometimes on the earth, sometimes in the air, walking or flying
as the humor seized him: a merry fellow withal, and the very Prince of
the wandering brotherhood.

He was, indeed, a true Prince, for his father, Zeus, was King of
Olympia, and his mother, Maia, was descended from the Titans, an ancient
and royal family.

Instead of living in the grand Olympian palace, however, Maia preferred
to remain in her own home--a beautiful grotto on the hill Kyllene, and
it was here that the young Prince Hermes was born.

Even then babies were wonderful beings, as they are now, and always must
be; but of all astonishing and precocious infants Hermes was certainly
the most remarkable.

Cuddled and wrapped in his cradle, and six hours old by the sun, he
leaped to his feet, and ran swiftly across the hard, uneven floor of
Maia's cave.

Just outside the door he spied a tortoise.

"Aha, my fine fellow!" said this wonderful baby, "you are just the
person I wished to see."

The tortoise was so taken by surprise that he could not find a word to
say, and by the time he had made up his mind that the best thing for him
to do was to get out of the way, there was nothing left of him to get
away with, for the baby Prince had thrust out his eyes, and had
converted his shell into a lyre.

Hermes smiled as he held it between his hands, and then, seating himself
by his mother's side, he began to sing, recounting to her all the most
wonderful events of her life.

It was now that Maia discovered for the first time that her baby wore
on his feet a curious pair of sandals, on each of which grew tiny wings.

She turned quickly to clasp him in her hands, for she knew by the sign
of the winged shoes that he would soon fly away from the little grotto
of Kyllene.

But Hermes sprang out of her reach, and laughed gayly as she chased him
about the cave, hardly stopping to turn his head as he bounded past her,
and out into the open air, carrying his lyre in his hand, and wearing on
his head a funny little hat, on which were two wings like those upon his
shoes.

Faster and faster he flew, now floating on the wind like a swallow, now
bounding over the earth, and now rising just above the tops of the
highest trees.

This was the little tramp's first journey, and his errand, I am sorry to
say, was a very wicked and mischievous one; for no sooner did he see the
cows of Prince Apollo feeding in the pastures of Pieria than he decided
to steal a couple of them for his breakfast, and to let the rest stray
away. Having accomplished this piece of mischief, he went back to his
cradle, gliding through the open door as swiftly and softly as the
summer wind.

Phoebus Apollo soon discovered what had happened, and started off in
pursuit of the robber; but Hermes was by this time fast asleep.

"What! I steal your cows!" he exclaimed, rubbing his eyes, as Apollo
stood at the door of Maia's cave. "I beg your pardon, but I do not even
know what a cow is."

Then he laughed to himself, and hid his face under the clothes; but
Apollo was not to be deceived, and Hermes was compelled to leave the
pleasant grotto, and appear before Zeus to answer for his crime.

Still the little tramp denied the theft: "No, no," he said, "I never
stole a cow in my life. I do not know a cow from a goat. I, indeed!" And
the boy turned on his heel, laughing as he spoke.

"Hermes," said Zeus at length, from his royal throne, "it is useless for
you to try longer to deceive us. Return the cows, make up the quarrel,
and Apollo will forgive the theft."

Hermes saw that his secret was discovered, and confessed his fault as
gayly as he had before denied it.

Prince Apollo was still somewhat out of humor, but as the boy led him
back along the sandy shores of Pieria, he told such pleasant stories and
sang such bewitching songs that the angry Prince began to smile, and at
last declared that the music was worth the loss of a hundred cows.

Hermes, who was as generous as he was mischievous, immediately made
Apollo a present of his lyre, and Apollo, not to be outdone, gave him in
return a magic wand. This wand, which was so cunningly carved that it
looked like two serpents twining around a slender rod, was called a
caduceus, and Hermes carried it with him in all his wanderings.

After Apollo and Hermes had exchanged presents, they swore eternal
friendship to each other; and then, having pointed out the place where
the cows were hid, Hermes hurried back to Olympus.

Having once tasted the delights of travel, he could not endure the
thought of a quiet humdrum life in the little cave at Kyllene, and he
besought the King to send him on some foreign mission.

Zeus, pleased with the boy's adventurous spirit, appointed him his
special Ambassador.

Light of foot and light of heart was the bright-haired messenger of the
gods, the very merriest tramp that ever walked, or flew, or ran.

Sometimes he showed to travellers the road they had lost, and sometimes
he led them far out of the way, stealing their purses, and then laughing
at their tears.

On one occasion, having found Zeus in great distress because the Queen
had determined to kill Io, a lovely young girl of whom the King was very
fond, he declared that he alone would save her.

Zeus at first changed Io into a heifer, but the Queen discovered the
secret, and sent Argus, a monster with a hundred eyes, to watch her.

It seemed impossible that the lovely Io could escape, and the poor old
King was in despair.

"Trust me," said the cheerful Hermes, "I will manage the matter."

Swifter than a cloud that flies before the wind, he glided through the
air until he reached the spot where the monster lay in wait for Io.

With one touch of his wand Hermes put the beast to sleep, and before he
had time to wink even one of his hundred eyes Argus was dead.

It would take too long to tell of all the wonderful deeds which Hermes,
the "Argus slayer," the messenger of the gods, performed.

Wherever he went he was greeted with prayers and songs and gifts, for
although he sometimes wrought more harm than good, the winged tramp was
always a welcome visitor both to gods and men.




[Begun in HARPER'S YOUNG PEOPLE No. 24, April 13.]

THE STORY OF GEORGE WASHINGTON.

BY EDWARD CARY.


CHAPTER VII.

General Washington was now "President" Washington. The man was the same,
but the work he had to do was very different. And then it was all new.
My readers have not yet got so used to doing things that they do not
know that it is a great deal harder to do anything the first time than
it is the second or the third.

Washington was not only the first President, but the whole government,
in which he had so great a part, was a strange thing. No one understood
exactly how it was going to work, and a great many people in each State
were afraid of it. They thought that the President would have too much
power, and that he would get to be as bad as a King after a while, and
the people hated Kings bitterly in those days.

Some very earnest but not very just writers went so far as to say that
the country had only got rid of George the Third (who was King of
England), to set up in his place "George the First" (meaning
Washington), and they said the change was like the one the frogs made
from "King Log" to "King Stork."

What this meant you may find in AEsop's Fables. And I must say that our
first President was a good deal more like a King in his manners and his
notions than our Presidents are nowadays. Perhaps he was more so than he
would be if he were President now.

He was a proud man--not a vain one, but proud of his office; and he
wanted people to show their respect for his office by the manner in
which they treated him. He dressed very richly, and had his wife dress
richly too. He rode to and from the Capitol in a coach with four horses,
and sometimes even six, handsomely clad. He put his servants in a sort
of uniform, like the "livery" which nobles' servants wear. He gave grand
parties, where he and Mrs. Washington received their guests from a
slightly raised platform, called a "dais."

On every occasion where he appeared as President of the United States he
insisted that things should go on in a certain order, and with as much
display as possible. But in his private life and conduct he was as
simple and modest as any one could be.

In his public work Washington chose some of the best and ablest men in
the country to help him. He called Alexander Hamilton from New York to
take care of money matters, with the title of Secretary of the
Treasury. Hamilton was an officer on Washington's staff during the
Revolution, and had led the Americans over the British redoubts in the
last fight at Yorktown. Washington knew him to be as honest and skillful
as he was brave, and relied on him greatly. Then he called Thomas
Jefferson from Virginia--a very clear-headed man, with many bold
ideas--to take charge of any business that might come up with other
nations. His title was Secretary of State, and he had a great deal to
do, for the governments of Europe had not yet learned to respect the
rights of the United States, or to care much for this country in any
way.

General Washington took up his residence in New York, where Congress was
then meeting. The first thing he did was to lay out an order in which
business should be done, in such a manner that nothing should be
neglected, and things should not get confused. His plans were made after
asking advice from the chief men about him, for, great man as he was, he
was always ready to take the counsel of others.

Nothing is more striking in reading Washington's letters than this habit
of asking advice. It certainly did not come from any lack of courage,
for when he had once made up his mind, he was very firm in carrying out
his plans. And when he had to do so, he could act very quickly and
wisely without advice, and during the war he frequently did what he
thought best against the advice of his generals.

[TO BE CONTINUED.]




HOW TO MAKE AN AVIARY.

BY A. H. M.


[Illustration]

One of the charms of having a good garden is the opportunity it affords
for keeping different pets, caged or at liberty; and those who are fond
of birds can find no easier way of watching their habits than by keeping
them in an out-door aviary, such as any bright boy with a love for
carpentering, and a few good tools, can build for himself.

There are certain rules and facts connected with carpentry to be borne
in mind and acted upon: Buy only the best tools, and keep them _sharp_;
keep your tools, when not in use, well out of the reach of little
children, who would be glad to use your chisels, if not to dig out
refractory tin tacks, at least as screw-drivers.

In doing any out-door work, such as a fern frame, dove's house, or what
not, never put together any part of it inside the shop until you have
ascertained that such portion will somehow get through the doorway. This
remark brings us back to the aviary, and its general size.

If it is to be about seven feet square, the frame of each side can be
set up in-doors; if larger than that, each piece of wood, when prepared,
will have to be taken out, and the various parts joined together near
where the aviary is to stand.

The materials we require consist merely of ordinary deal rafters, two
inches square, and a good number of deal boards, five-eighths of an inch
thick, planed on one side, with rebate and groove already cut--all of
which may be obtained of any timber-merchant.

[Illustration: Fig. 1.]

[Illustration: Fig. 2.]

First, the frame of one side, as before stated, is put together, A B C D
(Fig. 1), then that of the opposite side, E F G H, the various corners
being mortised into one another (Fig. 2). Then the remaining parts of
the frame having been got ready piece by piece, the whole may be set up.
The two iron stays between each couple of upright rafters must on no
account be omitted; nor yet the galvanized iron squares, similar to
those used by shop-keepers to support their window-shelves, which will
be found most useful to strengthen the angles.

[Illustration: Fig. 3.]

Now get the mason to come with his cement and some bricks, and build up
on the selected site a level foundation for the house to rest on,
spreading a layer of cement along the top of the upper course of bricks,
to which the base of the frame-work (which must be lifted on to it while
it is moist) will adhere. Then, to give additional stability, and lessen
the risk of the house being lifted or shifted by a gale (for, being open
in front and sides, it will offer, like the inside of an open umbrella,
far greater resistance to the wind than would be the case if glazed as a
greenhouse is), an inner line of bricks is next cemented against the
side of the bottom rafters all round, and flush with their surface, as
seen at Fig. 3. Lastly, when the floor has been paved with bricks, the
mason's job is finished.

[Illustration: Fig. 4.]

[Illustration: Fig. 5.]

Now comes the roof. This is made to play out widely for two purposes: to
give our aviary a somewhat ornamental appearance, and also to carry the
drip well clear of the walls and wire netting. First of all, the boards,
B (Fig. 4), must be nailed on, planed surface downward, to form a smooth
ceiling; then the whole is covered with strips of stout canvas, A,
overlapping one another. The ends of the canvas are fastened tightly
under the eaves, and the exposed selvedge of one strip, with the
selvedge of the next beneath, is properly tacked to the wood. Finally
the top piece, C, and the narrow strips of wood, B (Fig. 5), being
securely nailed on over the canvas, the roof is complete; and when
painted with _light_ lead-color, it will be perfectly water-proof, and
have the appearance, without the weight, of a real leaden covering.

[Illustration: Fig. 6.]

[Illustration: Fig. 7.]

There remain the sides to be walled up. The boards for these can now be
nailed on from the bottom upward, with the exception of the pieces H H
(Fig. 6), which must be left over until the wire netting has been
attached to the upright pillars. A window two feet square, of a single
pane of strong glass, well bedded in putty, to give more light to the
interior, without extra draught, and with wire netting over the glass on
the inside, is placed at the back, where also is seen the door,
capacious enough for a person to get in and clean out the aviary when
required; for which purpose three feet by two feet will give sufficient
room. But we do not want the bother of unfastening this big door, and
stooping down to the floor, every time we put in the saucers of food,
besides running the risk of allowing some of the birds to fly out during
the operation; so we construct another one, much smaller, at the side
(Fig. 7), at about the height of one's elbow when standing by it. Two
brackets fixed to the door serve to keep it in a horizontal position
when open, thus forming a table on which to place and fill the saucers
with seed and bread and milk, before transferring them to the wooden
tray at the same level inside. Another little door, fourteen inches by
four inches, with the bottom of it flush with the brick floor, A (Fig.
8), and a spring like that of a mouse-trap attached to the hinges to
make it shut, will be large enough to admit a zinc trough one foot
square, two inches deep, which will contain abundance of water to give
all the birds a good bath daily.

[Illustration: Fig. 8.]

Two coats of lead-color painted over the whole outside wood-work, two
coats of dark green over that and over the wire netting, three coats of
light lead-color over the outside of the roof, with three coats of white
paint over the walls and roof inside, will complete the work of the
house itself.

[Illustration: Fig. 9.]

[Illustration: Fig. 10.]

The arrangement of perches and nesting-places may be left to the
reader's judgment. The goldfinches will want some slender twigs close to
the roof, and a swinging perch, such as in Fig. 9, as they love to get
up as high as possible, and look down contemptuously on everybody else.
The canaries will like another swing (Fig. 10) suspended from a stout
perch above by a small swivel and chain, and placed in the front near
the wires, where they can be swung to and fro by the breeze. It is
pretty to watch the canaries singing as they swing.

The site should be as sunny and sheltered as possible. If the front of
the house can face south, and there be a hedge or spreading shrub on the
eastern side, the birds will have nothing to complain of from spring to
autumn. By the first of November place a covering of thick warm felt
over the whole roof, tacking it to the narrow slips above the canvas, so
that a space is left between the boards and the felt, the warmth of a
_double_ roof is imparted to the interior, and the birds are made all
snug and comfortable. This covering, together with a wooden shutter
fitting closely over the top half of the netting on the weather side,
may be removed again in March.

One word more. It may happen that at feeding or cleaning-out time a cock
bullfinch, or some valued bird, will slip out and escape. Nothing
whatever will be gained by exclaiming, "What a pity!" nor would it be
wise to chase the fugitive from bush to bush, because to pursue would
merely frighten it farther afield. But if left alone, it will probably
be too much astonished at the novelty of its freedom to think of flying
at first farther than the nearest thick shrub. So, having noticed where
it has flown to, we must fetch the trap-cage without losing a moment,
put in a hen from the aviary as call-bird, a few grains of hemp as bait,
stand the cage on a box, or anything else, close to the bush, and watch
from some point out of sight. In less than ten minutes we shall most
likely have caught the truant safely once more.




THE ERMINE.


The silky white fur which forms the ornament of many a royal robe is the
skin of the ermine--a graceful and saucy member of the weasel tribe. The
ermine is found in all Northern countries. In the summer it is a
reddish-brown creature, but no sooner does the reign of winter begin
than it attires itself in purest white, with the exception of the tip of
its tail, which is glossy jet black. It is thought by naturalists that
the coat of the ermine changes color at the beginning of winter, but
that the change in the spring is effected by shedding the white hairs,
which are replaced by new ones of a brown tint.

The ermine (sometimes called stoat) is somewhat larger than the common
weasel, but not unlike it in its habits. It lives in hollow trees and
among rocks, wherever it can find a snug hiding-place. Although it often
comes out to frolic in the sun, its hunting-time begins with the setting
of the sun. Toward evening, when the shadows are rapidly lengthening
across the clearings, the ermine may be seen issuing forth for its night
campaign. Now it twists its lithe body like an eel in and out among the
rocks and underbrush; now it stands for a moment motionless, peering
about in search of a victim, its slender little body arched up in the
middle like an enraged cat. It is always on the alert, whisking here and
there, sniffing at every hole and corner where perchance some rat or
rabbit may lie concealed.

Odd stories are told of the extreme boldness of the ermine, and some of
them are no doubt true. A celebrated German hunter relates that,
creeping through the forest in search of game, he came to the edge of a
clearing, where he saw two ermine frolicking about on the ground.
Seizing a stone, he threw it with such sure aim that one of the little
creatures was knocked senseless, when, to his astonishment, the other,
giving a loud cry, sprang at him, and running up his clothes with the
rapidity of lightning, fastened its sharp teeth in the back of his neck.
With the utmost difficulty he succeeded in freeing himself from the
angry ermine, which bit his face and hands severely in the struggle.

The ermine is a cruel enemy of all small beasts, a despoiler of birds'
nests, as it likes nothing better than a supper of fresh eggs, and a
most heartless persecutor of the snug homes of rabbits and squirrels.
Hares appear conscious of their entire helplessness in the presence of
this dangerous foe, and although they are swifter of foot, the bright,
glittering eye of the ermine paralyzes them with terror; and should they
attempt to fly, the ermine well understands the art of riding on the
back of its victim, its sharp teeth fastened in its throat, until,
exhausted and faint, the stricken hare is forced to succumb.

Even the powerful water-rat is no match for the ermine. It may spring
into the pool by which it lives, and swim rapidly among the reeds; but
the ermine, although its home is on land, is as good a swimmer as the
rat, and fastening its teeth in its victim's throat, it drags it,
helpless and dying, on shore.

In May or June the ermine seeks some soft, secluded corner, from whence
it comes forth in a few days with five or six playful, tiny children. No
pussy cat is a prouder, fonder mother than the ermine. It bestows the
tenderest care and caresses on its little ones until they are three or
four months old, and capable of shifting for themselves. Should danger
threaten its children, the ermine will seize them all in its mouth, and
fly to a place of safety; even if compelled to swim a deep river to
escape capture, it will carry its babies safely over.

The fur of the ermine is very much valued. The species which inhabit
Siberia and the most northern countries of Europe are the most sought
after by traders, as the intense cold of those regions blanches the fur
to silvery whiteness. These creatures are usually caught in traps, and
specimens are sometimes kept by the trappers as pets. A Swedish
gentleman relates his experience with one that was captured about
Christmastime, when its beautiful silky coat was of the purest white,
with the exception of the pretty black tip on its tail.

It was first placed by its owner in a large room, where it soon made
itself completely at home. It would run up the curtains like a mouse,
twist itself into the smallest corners, and at length, one day, when it
had been invisible for several hours, it was discovered snugly curled up
in an unused stove funnel, its beautiful coat smeared with rust and
soot.

When its cage was ready, the ermine, after being placed in it, developed
an extraordinary temper. It would dash about, climbing on the wire, and
uttering a loud hissing cry, as if protesting against confinement. When
it went to sleep, it would curl up in a ring, twisting its little tail
around its nose. It was fed with milk, which it drank eagerly, with
hens' eggs, the contents of which it sucked, and with small birds, which
it ate, leaving nothing but the feathers.

A large brown rat was one day put into the cage alive. At first the
ermine curled in a corner, and allowed the rat to drink its milk, and
range about the floor. But the daring rat approached too near the lord
of the domain. With one quick spring the ermine was on the back of its
antagonist, its long teeth buried in its throat. A terrible battle
ensued, the rat several times freeing itself from the ermine, which
returned again and again, until at length the rat was stretched lifeless
and bleeding on the floor of the cage. The ermine then devoured it,
leaving nothing but the head, skin, and tail, thus thoroughly disproving
the assertion that the whole weasel family only suck the blood of their
victims.

[Illustration: FIGHT BETWEEN AN ERMINE AND A BROWN RAT.]

In our illustration the ermine is represented in deadly contest with a
large brown rat (_Mus decumanus_), called the Norway rat in England,
although the species is said to be unknown in the country after which it
is named. This rat is supposed to have been brought into Europe from
Asia early in the eighteenth century, and about one hundred years ago it
made its way to America. The Germans call it the migratory rat, because,
starting from its native place in the far East, it has made itself at
home in nearly every country. It is one of the boldest and most
destructive of its tribe, and a dreadful nuisance wherever it goes.




"FOR MAMMA'S SAKE."

A STORY OF NED AND HIS DOG.

BY MARY D. BRINE.


There was no mistake about it. Ned and his mother were very poor, and
decidedly uncomfortable. Ned was so tired of living in one little room,
where all day long mamma sat by the window and sewed till the day-light
faded away; and sometimes, too, both he and mamma went to bed rather
hungry, and when the little boy used to pat his mother's thin cheeks
lovingly, after a sweet baby fashion he had, he could often feel the
tears in her eyes, when it was too dark for _his_ bright blue eyes to
look upon her face. There was a cunning little dog, Fido, Ned's only
playmate, which also lived with them in that small room, and his chief
occupation was the constant wagging of a very bushy tail, and a
readiness to accept the slightest invitation for a frolic from his small
master.

As for Fido's meals, he had grown so used to circumstances that I don't
believe he even remembered the taste of a good juicy bone such as he
used to have in Ned's old home before the days of poverty came. Never
mind _what_ brought about a change of circumstances in the family, but
the change had come sadly enough, and Ned and mamma had only the memory
of the times gone by to comfort them. Fido had been a puppy in those
days--they were only two years back, after all--and if dogs can
remember, no doubt this doggie longed for the green fields and sunny
lanes in the pretty country town where he and Ned ran races together,
and _never_ were hungry. The little boy was only six years old then, and
now, on the day before my story begins, mamma had celebrated his eighth
birthday by buying him a tiny sugar angel with gauze wings, which filled
Ned with awe and delight. Eat it? No, not he! it was far too lovely for
that; so he suspended the angelic toy by a string, and it soared above
Ned's bed day and night, keeping sweet watch over all things.

But to Fido, the shaggy-haired, pug-nosed companion of his days, and
sharer of his discomforts, Ned's heart clung with a love unbounded. He
laughed, and Fido laughed, or, that is to say, Fido _barked_, which
meant a laugh, of course. Ned cried, and Fido also wept, if a drooping
of ears and tail, and a decided downcast expression of countenance,
meant anything in the way of silent sympathy.

They were always together, and of the greatest comfort to one another,
so that the "alley boys" (as they were called who lived by the
tenement-house in which Ned lived) used to cry, jeeringly, whenever the
little boy appeared for a breath of air, "How are you, Ned, and how is
your dog?" or, to vary it occasionally, "How are you, doggie, and how is
your Ned?"

I am telling this, so that my little readers can understand how hard it
was for the little boy to do what he did, after a time, for mamma's
sake.

It came about in this way. One afternoon late, when Mrs. Clarke had gone
to carry home some work, and Ned and Fido were having a regular frolic
on the floor, there came knocking at the door a Mrs. Malone, who
collected the rent due from the several lodgers in the miserable
building. With a frown on her face, when informed that Mrs. Clarke was
out, the woman had bidden the boy tell his mother that "she'd wait no
longer for the rent due her, and Mrs. Clarke might look out for
herself."

Ned had cowered before her threatening face, but Fido, far from feeling
any fear, had boldly barked at the intruder until he had nearly shaken
his bushy tail from his small body. That made Mrs. Malone angry; and
meeting Mrs. Clarke on the stairs, she repeated her threat to the weary,
tired woman, who presently entered the room in tears.

Ned soon learned that the man from whom his mother had obtained sewing
had dismissed some of his work-women, and Mrs. Clarke amongst them; and
now indeed there seemed distress before them. The boy was too young to
fully comprehend all his dear mother's woes, but his loving heart grew
sad and thoughtful, and he stood mournfully by the window looking up
into the sky, where he knew papa was so safely living. Poor little Fido
sat silently beside his master, wondering what had happened to break up
the frolic so suddenly; and altogether, while mamma prepared the simple
supper, things were very quiet and sad.

"Have you got much money, mamma?" asked Ned at last.

His mother could not help smiling at the question so plaintively asked.
"Enough for the rent, dear," she replied, trying to speak cheerily. "And
to-morrow maybe I'll find some new work. Don't look so sad, my little
Ned; we'll manage to get along in some way if we trust in the dear
Father above. You know we must have courage, Ned, and not despair."

"But I can't be glad when you cry, mamma," said the boy; and straightway
his soft cheek was laid against mamma's, and he comforted her with his
kisses till she smiled again, and the tears were all dried.

The next day mamma went out early, leaving Ned and Fido to take care of
the room. She little knew what plans had developed themselves in Ned's
small head during the night, when the little fellow had been unable to
sleep, and had tormented himself with wishing he was "a big boy, and
could earn money for his poor mamma." No, indeed, she knew nothing of
any plans on his part. So she had kissed his sweet lips, sighed to
herself over his pale cheeks, and telling him that she would not be home
until afternoon, and he would find luncheon for himself and Fido all
fixed on the closet shelf, had gone out into the streets to look for
work from store to store.

But Ned knew what he had to do before mamma's return, and no sooner had
she gone than he brushed his curly head, made himself neat and clean,
and lifted his Scotch cap from its peg behind the door. That was the
signal for Fido to sit up on his hind-legs and beg, as Ned had long
before taught him, when preparing for a race in the street; and now he
not only begged, but thumped his bushy tail impatiently against the
floor, saying, dog fashion, "Come, _do_ hurry up." He didn't appear to
notice that his little master's face was sober this morning, and that
once two big tears gathered in the blue eyes which were usually such
merry eyes, as a boy's should be.

And finally, after Ned had written, in a very scrawly hand, "Dear mamma,
Fido and I are going to take a walk just a little while," and placed the
queer little note where his mother would see it if she came home before
him, the two friends went down the narrow stairs, and through the alley
into the street which led toward the City Hall. Fido looked inquiringly
into his master's face to see what could be the reason that he walked so
quietly along this morning, instead of, as heretofore, racing and
chasing his four-footed little comrade from block to block. But Ned was
swallowing several lumps in his throat, and had no heart for a frolic.

It was not long before the City Hall Square was reached; and a little
timidly, now that he was in so large and strange a place alone, Ned
seated himself upon the broad stone lower step of the great building,
and lifted Fido in his arms. Then he mustered courage, and cried,
feebly, although he fancied his voice was very loud and brave: "Anybody
want to buy a dog? Dog to sell. Want a dog?"

But nobody seemed to hear him, and the noise of the streets frightened
our poor little fellow into silence for a while. So he buried his face
in Fido's shaggy back, and tried not to cry.

"Oh, my doggie Fido!" he murmured, "you've truly got to be sold. Oh
dear! it is awfully hard, and I'll 'most die without you. But you must
be sold, 'cause mamma is so poor."

Fido wriggled about, and objected to being held in Ned's arms, when he
wanted to frisk about on the broad pavement; and so he whined and
snarled a little, and even ventured a growl--something very rare with
gentle Fido. But Ned did not dare let him go, and so held the tighter,
until doggie tried the persuasive powers of his little tongue, and
kissed his master's hand over and over again.

Then pretty soon a policeman came by, and eyed Ned severely. That was a
terrible scare for the youngster, and he said, eagerly, "Please, sir, I
ain't doing anything. I'm only waiting to sell my dog, 'cause my
mother's so poor."

The burly guardian of the peace laughed and went his way, and Ned
breathed freely again. But somebody had chanced to hear his words--a boy
of ten or twelve years--and he came near to look at the dog in Ned's
arms.

"Will you buy him, boy?" asked Ned, earnestly. "I'll sell him _real_
cheap; and, you see, I must take mamma some money to-day."

The boy was ready enough to make the purchase, but though he turned his
pockets inside out, he could not rake and scrape from them more than the
sum of one dollar.

"Here's all I've got," he said. "My grandpa gives me lots of money; but
it's all spent but this, and you won't sell him for a dollar, I
suppose?"

Ned's eyes sparkled. "Oh yes, I will, too," he replied. "Oh yes, indeed.
A dollar is a hundred cents, and I never had so many cents in my life,
boy. You may take him now. Only let me kiss him good-by, please."

His voice faltered a little toward the last, as he hugged the dog
tightly to his heart, and the tears streamed presently from his brave
eyes, in spite of all the winking and blinking to keep them back.

"Oh, my Fido! my own little doggie!" was all he could say, while the dog
wagged his tail, and wondered what the fuss was about.

"There, now you'll have to go," Ned said at last, smothering one more
sob, and loosening his arms. "Take him, boy, please, quick as you can."

The boy promised to be very kind and good to Fido, and attempted to lift
him from Ned's knee. But to this Fido would not agree, expressing his
dislike of the new and extraordinary arrangement, which he couldn't
comprehend, by a growl and short bark.

Ned apologized. "You see, I've had him an awful long time, ever since I
was a _little_ fellow, and I s'pose he don't want to leave me."

So the new master tied a string to Fido's collar, and Ned said, gravely,
"Now, Fido, you smile and look pleasant, like a good dog;" and then the
two old friends parted, Fido whining and tugging to break his string,
and Ned wiping his eyes on his jacket sleeve as he hurried toward his
lonely home.

He reached it just after mamma had come in, and his little note was in
her hand. With a choking sob, he sprang into her arms, and thrust the
dollar--small silver pieces--into her hand. "Take it, mamma--oh, take it
quick!" he cried, and then came the explanation concerning his morning's
work. It was told with many tears and sobs, in which mamma was not
ashamed to join, as she folded her brave little son in her arms.

For her sake he had parted with his one loved treasure, and his reward
was great when she kissed and called him her comfort and little helper.
But she did not let him know how almost useless his sacrifice had been,
since the dollar would go but a small way toward the relief of their
necessities. Oh no, she let him feel happy in the thought that he "_had_
helped dear mamma," and the thought went far toward softening the grief
of parting with his pet.

So days went by, until one morning Mrs. Clarke decided to answer in
person an advertisement that called for "A Housekeeper," and took her
son with her, lest he should miss more than ever his old companion and
playfellow.

The house to which they were directed was a large, handsome house,
having beside the door a small gilt sign bearing the name of Dr. ----. A
spruce black servant admitted them, and presently the doctor entered the
room. Satisfactory arrangements were made, the gentleman not objecting
to Ned, whose plaintive little face strangely attracted him. And with a
heart full of joy and gratitude Mrs. Clarke rose to take her leave,
until she could return and enter upon her duties. But a boy came
whistling through the hall, and presently--oh, the joy of it!--what
should rush, with a scamper and joyous bark, pell-mell upon little Ned,
but his own Fido! Such a shout of gladness! and Ned sat fairly upon the
floor, and hugged his dog again and again, while the boy--none other
than the doctor's grandson--explained to the bewildered old gentleman
that "this was the boy who had sold him the dog."

So now, you see, it all turned out happily, and henceforth Fido had
_two_ masters, both of whom he served, although I think the largest part
of his canine heart was given to the old and first master.

And as for Ned, once in a while he asked mamma this question--not
because it hadn't been answered over and over, but because it kept
suggesting itself to his heart--"Oh, mamma, isn't it the funniest
thing?"

And the reply was always, "Yes, Ned, it really is."




[Illustration]

A TINY SEED.


  One May morning two green leaves
    Peeping from the ground
  Patty and her brother Will
    In their garden found.
  They a seed had planted there
    Just ten days ago,
  Only half believing that
    It would ever grow.

  "Oh, it's growed! it's growed!" they cried,
    "And it soon will be,"
  Will proclaimed, now full of faith,
    "Like a little tree:
  Then will lady-slippers come,
    And they'll all be ours.
  Oh, how good God is to turn
    Brown seeds into flowers!"




JAPANESE WINE-FLOWERS.

BY WILLIAM ELLIOT GRIFFIS.


On both sides of the great wide street leading to Asakusa, in old Yedo,
were shops full of toys of all kinds. At certain seasons of the year
booths were hastily put up, and stocked with the curiosities of the
season. For a few days before New-Year's one could buy ferns, lobsters,
oranges, evergreens, and rice-straw festoons. In the second month
appeared seeds, roots, bulbs, and gardeners' tools. Dolls and girls'
toys came on in the third month, ready for the Feast of Dolls. Images of
heroes, banners, toy horses, and boys' playthings, for the Feast of
Flags, were out in the fifth month. Bamboo and streamers, in the seventh
month, celebrated the meeting of the star-lovers. Chrysanthemums in
autumn, and camellias in winter, could be bought, all having their
special use and meaning. Thus throughout the different months Asakusa
was gay with new things of all colors, and bustling with ten thousand
people of all ages. Besides the shops and booths, a constant street fair
was held by people whose counter was the pavement, and whose stock in
trade, spread out on the street, must run the risk of dust, rain, and
the accidents from passers-by.

Among these jolly peddlers was one Ume, a little rosy-cheeked maid of
twelve years, who sold wine-flowers.

"Wine-flowers; what are they?"

If we open the boxes or paper bags sold by Ume, we see a pack of what
seem to be tiny colored jackstraws or fine shavings. They are made by
cutting out very thin slices of pith in the shape of men, women, birds,
flowers, fishes, bats, tortoises, tools, and many other things. These
are gummed, folded up, and pinched tightly, until each one looks like
nothing but a shred of linen or a tiny chip of frayed wood. If you drop
one of them into a bowl of hot water, it will open and unfold like a
flower. They blossom slowly in cold water, but hot water makes them jump
up and open at once.

Ume's blind grandfather and her mother made these wine-flowers for a
living, and she went out daily and sat on the Asakusa street to sell
them.

Sometimes they made "shell-surprises."

Out of a hard paste made from moss they cut the shapes of roses,
camellias, lilies, daisies, etc., of real size, which they painted to a
natural color. Then folding them in a ball, and squeezing them into a
cockle-shell, they were ready for sale. They looked just like common
white shells; but when dropped into hot water they opened at once, and
the ball of gum inside, rising to the surface, blossomed into a flower
of true size and tint.

"But why are they called wine-flowers?"

The reason is this. The Japanese drink their "wine" (sake or rice-beer)
hot, and in tiny cups about the size of a small half orange. When one
friend is about to offer the cup to another, he drops one of these pith
chips on the surface of the wine. It blossoms instantly before their
eyes, and is the "flower of friendship."

[Illustration: A GAME OF SURPRISES.]

The artist Ozawa has sketched the inside of a home in Japan, where the
children are merrily enjoying the game of surprises. A Japanese mother
has bought a few boxes of the pith toys from Ume. They have a lacquered
tub half full of warm water. Every few minutes the fat-cheeked
servant-girl brings in a fresh steaming kettleful to keep it hot. They
all kneel on the matting, and it being summer, they are in bare feet,
which they like. The elder one of the two little girls, named O-Kin
(Little Gold), has a box already half empty.

"Guess what this one is," says she to her little brother Kozo, who sits
in the centre.

"It's a lily, or a pot of flowers--I know it is," cries Kozo: "I know
it, because it's a long one."

O-Kin drops it. It flutters like a feather in the air, then it touches
the water, squirms a moment, jumps about as if alive, unfolds, and
instead of a long-stemmed flower, it is a young lady carrying a lantern,
all dressed for an evening call. "Ha! ha! ha!" laugh they all.

"You didn't guess it.--You try," said O-Kin, to O-Haya (Little Wave),
her sister; "it's a short one."

"I think it's either a drum or a _tai_," (red fish), said O-Haya,
looking eagerly.

It opened slowly, and a bright red fish floated to the top and swam for
a second. Its eye, mouth, and tail were perfect. "I guessed it," said
O-Haya, clapping her hands.

"Look, mamma," cried Kozo, to his mother, "here are two heavenly rats
[bats], but they can't fly; two of Fuji Mountain; two _musume_ [young
ladies], a maple leaf, a plum blossom, a 'love-bird,' a cherry blossom,
a paper swallow, and a kiku [chrysanthemum flower]. They have all opened
beautifully."

Then mamma dropped in a few from her box. They were longer and finer
than O-Kin's, and as they unfolded, the children screamed with delight.
A man in a boat, with a pole and line, was catching a fish; a rice
mortar floated alongside a wine-cup; the Mikado's crest bumped the
Tycoon's; a tortoise swam; a stork unfolded its wings; a candle, a fan,
a gourd, an axe, a frog, a rat, a sprig of bamboo, and pots full of
many-colored flowers sprung open before their eyes. By this time the
water was tinged with several colors, chiefly red.

After the fun was over, the children carefully picked out the spent
tricks with a flat bit of bamboo, and spread them to dry on a sheet of
white paper; but they never could be used again.

Sometimes only flower tricks are used, and then the blossoms open in all
colors, until the water contains a real floating garden or "water
bouquet."




DANDELION.

BY AMY ELLA BLANCHARD.


  "Golden-head, Golden-head,
  The sun must have kissed you."
  "So he did," said Golden-head,
  "Just before he went to bed."

[Illustration]

  "Golden-head, you're a white head;
  The frost must have nipped you."
  "No; he would not be so bold;
  I am only growing old."

[Illustration]

  "Puffy-ball, Puffy-ball,
  Where's the wind taking you?
  I'm afraid another day
  You will all be blown away."




[Illustration: OUR POST-OFFICE BOX.]


  INDIAN RIVER, FLORIDA.

     My generous uncle James takes YOUNG PEOPLE for me, and as you
     welcome messages from your little readers, I thought I would tell
     you that I enjoy it very much. Then, too, you might like to know
     that it is a favorite in the extreme South as well as in the far
     West and in the North. Little folks North and little folks South
     have pretty much the same tastes, I reckon; and as I have been
     interested in the accounts which little North men give of their
     pets, I would like to say something of mine--a pair of egrets.

     My father brought them from a heronry not many miles from the
     great Okeechobee Lake. Then they were very young, and so fat that
     their long, awkward legs would not sustain their weight. Now they
     are three months old, and stand about two feet high. Their plumage
     is white as snow, and their legs and long beak a bright
     orange-color. Their eyes are yellowish-gray, and very keen and
     beautiful.

     I feed them mostly on fish or fresh meat, but in an extremity they
     will not disdain a piece of salt pork. They are creatures of
     approved valor, and have vanquished all our dogs, as well as the
     cocks in the poultry-yard. When attacking they rush forward with
     loud cries and flapping wings, well calculated to frighten their
     adversaries, and having long necks, they thrust their sharp beaks
     like javelins. When threatened by hawks, they squat closely to the
     earth, and present their beaks somewhat as the French soldiers did
     their bayonets when assailed by the terrible Mamelukes in Egypt.
     One night lately an opossum thought to make a meal of them, but
     they defended themselves with such vigor that the robber scampered
     off just as my father appeared to succor them.

     They are not vicious toward persons, although they sometimes try
     to bully people into feeding them when begging does not avail.
     Young egrets are a long time learning how to fly, and are
     meanwhile carefully attended by their parents. The mother bird
     fishes industriously to feed the whole family, while her plumed
     mate stands guard at the nest, for their home is in wild regions,
     where enemies of many kinds abound. The famous chief Osceola used
     egret plumes to adorn his turban.

  JOHN CALHOUN J.

       *       *       *       *       *

  CINCINNATI, OHIO.

     I wish to tell you about two pet deer I had, Dolly and Pet. They
     were very tame, and if I was eating anything, they would come up
     to me and put their fore-feet on my knees, as if to beg for a
     piece. They had a very large cage, and I used to go in and play
     with them. I am eleven years old.

  I. B.

       *       *       *       *       *

  FREEPORT, ILLINOIS.

     I have taken YOUNG PEOPLE from the first number, and I read all
     the letters in the Post-office Box. I like to read about the pets.
     Papa gave me a calf for a pet. It is red and white, and is now two
     weeks old. I do not like to pet it much, because it always wants
     to put its nose on me, and I don't like that, for its nose is
     always wet. Papa says if it was dry, the calf would be sick. I
     have a water-spaniel--a liver-colored, curly fellow. Papa got him
     for me when I was three years old, and I have had him eight years,
     so you can tell how old I am. I have twenty-two chickens. Some are
     light Brahmas, and some golden Seabright Bantams.

  WILLIE B. B.

       *       *       *       *       *

  LITCHFIELD, ILLINOIS.

     I like YOUNG PEOPLE, and my papa buys it for me every week. I can
     not read well yet, so mamma reads the stories and little letters
     to me. I have a pet dog one year old. When I hold up a bit of
     cake--which he likes better than anything else--and say, "Do you
     want it?" he will bark and jump around lively. His name is Chub. I
     have Gyp (my cat), a canary, and six pet chickens. I had a turtle,
     but it went out on the porch one day, and fell off, and walked
     away. I felt so badly to lose it! I am seven years old.

  LULU M. S.

       *       *       *       *       *

  HARPER, IOWA.

     I am seven years old. I live in a town which was named for the
     Harper Brothers, and as I was the first child born here, I was
     named Harper. I thank you for YOUNG PEOPLE. My papa says the
     Harper Brothers have done a great deal of good for the American
     people, and I guess he knows, for he reads a great deal. I have
     two brothers and a sister older than I am, and we all have great
     fun with the Wiggles and Misfits.

  HARPER R.

       *       *       *       *       *

  LYKENS, PENNSYLVANIA.

     I am ten years old, and I have two younger sisters--Bertha and
     Alice. Bertha is eight, and Alice will be five on the Fourth of
     July. Every week when papa brings home YOUNG PEOPLE Alice asks if
     there is any more of "Biddy O'Dolan" in it. We all liked that
     story very much. We live in the coal regions, within sight of the
     breaker, and the coal-dirt banks that look like mountains. I have
     never been down the slope--I am afraid--but I have stood at the
     top, and seen the empty cars go down and the full ones come up. I
     studied algebra this winter, and went as far as cube root. I have
     house plants for my pets, and they are in full bloom.

  MAY B.

       *       *       *       *       *

  HAMILTON, OHIO.

     I live in the Buckeye State, which is so called from the
     buckeye-tree, which grows native in its soil. This tree annually
     produces a prolific supply of hazel-colored nuts with smooth
     shells, about the size of a buck's eye. Buckeye boys use them for
     marbles, and are very proud of their namesake.

  G. C. M.

       *       *       *       *       *

  EMINENCE, KENTUCKY.

     When we lived in Texas last year papa gave my brother and me a
     little pony. He was so small we called him Nickel. We had to take
     the lambs to water every day, and herd them. When we came North,
     papa sent Nickel to Michigan, together with a hundred other
     ponies, and a gentleman there bought him for his little girl. We
     would like to hear from Nickel.

  GEORGIE B. H.

       *       *       *       *       *

  COMPETINE, IOWA.

     My brothers and I take YOUNG PEOPLE, and we all help pay for it.
     We like to draw the Wiggles, and we had ever so much fun making
     Misfits. Grandma lives with us, and knits all of our stockings,
     although she is eighty-five years old. I went to school last
     winter, but there is no school to go to now, and mamma teaches me
     at home. I am nine years old.

  CARRIE E. I.

       *       *       *       *       *

  COMPETINE, IOWA.

     I am eleven years old. We have forty hives of bees. Last summer I
     hived several swarms myself. Papa says after this year he is going
     to let my brother and me take all the care of the bees, and we are
     going to sell honey enough to pay for YOUNG PEOPLE next year. We
     had one hundred and nine hogs, but papa sold forty-five last week.
     The story of "Puck and Blossom" is the best of all.

  JOSEPH C. I.

       *       *       *       *       *

  SANDUSKY, OHIO.

     Now that dandelions are in bloom, I would like to describe a very
     amusing little trick which may be performed with a long dandelion
     stem, a pin, and a small green currant. Stick the pin half its
     length through the centre of the currant; then place the currant
     on the end of the stem, letting the pin down part way into the
     tube; now hold the stem perpendicularly, and blow into it gently.
     If skillfully done, the currant will revolve, suspended in the
     air.

  C. C.

       *       *       *       *       *

  MACOMB, ILLINOIS, _April 29, 1880_.

     I wish to tell Wroton K. that I have heard whippoor-wills several
     times, and have seen young rabbits about half grown. Most of the
     trees are in blossom here, but it is growing cold now, and may
     injure the fruit crop, which is very abundant here. It snowed
     slightly on the 19th of April.

  "ZENOBIA."

       *       *       *       *       *

  WASHINGTON, D. C.

     I am a little girl twelve years old. I have the hip-disease, and
     have to lie down all the time, but I have so many things to amuse
     me that I don't mind it much. I have a lounge, and it is pushed up
     to the window, so I can look out. I have two canaries--Dick and
     Beauty. I have tried to tame them, but do not know how. I wish
     some little girl could tell me how to do it.

  "DOT."

       *       *       *       *       *

  SPRINGFIELD, MASSACHUSETTS.

     I am nine years old. I have a little sister Bessie. We do not go
     out to school, but have had a governess one year. I love to read
     the pet letters in YOUNG PEOPLE. I have three--a dog named Trump,
     that is a hunting dog, and often goes out with my papa, who is
     very fond of shooting; some little white chickens; and a canary
     named "Little Brown Jug."

  MAY A. V.

       *       *       *       *       *

  NEW YORK CITY.

     It was my birthday yesterday, and my sister gave me YOUNG PEOPLE
     for a present. I like to read the letters from children, and to
     try to find out the puzzles. I have a brown squirrel, and have
     tried to tame it, but can not. I wish you would tell me how. I
     would like to write about my dolls, but must not make my letter
     too long. I am eight years old.

  TESSIE H.

The only rules for taming birds, squirrels, or any other little
creatures, are those consisting of patience, perseverance, and kindness.

       *       *       *       *       *

  MARYVILLE, EAST TENNESSEE.

     I have two pets--a beautiful little white English rabbit with pink
     eyes, and a little Chester pig. I have no sister, but a little
     brother three years old. I am seven. Mamma always reads all the
     children's letters in YOUNG PEOPLE'S Post-office to me.

  MASON A. B.

       *       *       *       *       *

  CONCORDIA PARISH, LOUISIANA.

     I don't know how to write very well, for I have never been to
     school, although I am eight years old. Papa and mamma teach me at
     home. I thought you might like to hear from a little boy in
     Louisiana, who likes HARPER'S YOUNG PEOPLE very much. I read it
     aloud to little Brother Josie, and then papa mails it to Brother
     Willie, who is at school in Vidalia, twenty-five miles away. You
     would be pleased to hear how sweetly Josie, who is four years old,
     can repeat many of the little poems in YOUNG PEOPLE. Dew-berries
     are ripe now, and I wish I could send you a large bouquet of our
     flowers. I live on a large cotton plantation. Our front gate is
     only a few yards from the bank of the Mississippi River, so we
     have a fine view of the steamboats as they pass. We have a real
     pretty yard to play in, and a nice swing. Our pets are three
     beautiful cats--Dick, Spot, and Wesley. I love Dick dearly, for he
     is just my age, and we grew up together. I am eight years old.
     Mamma calls me her little flower boy, but my "sure-enough" name is

  DAVID AUSTIN C.

       *       *       *       *       *

  NORTH GRANVILLE, NEW YORK.

     We are not sisters, but we are together almost as much as if we
     were. We each have a pet. One is a little English pug named
     Pickles, and the other a cunning little Maltese and white kitten,
     and we call her Pinafore. It is very pretty in this little village
     where we live in the summer. There is a very fine military school
     here, and when it is warm enough for the cadets to drill on the
     parade-ground, it makes it very pleasant.

  MAMIE B. AND GUSSIE P.

       *       *       *       *       *

  MONTICELLO, WISCONSIN.

     I have read all the letters from boys and girls in YOUNG PEOPLE,
     and I would like to tell them about my pets. I have two pet cats.
     One is a Maltese, and I call her Nellie; the other is an old gray
     cat named Puss. She has five little kittens, and they are so
     cunning. I have a pet hen named Hannah. She had two little chicks,
     but they died. Uncle George lives with us, and he has a hound
     named Fanny. She is a brown beauty, and a great pet. I have two
     little sisters. Maud has golden curls, and Ethel has little brown
     curls. They are the dearest little pets I have.

  G. NATHAN E.

       *       *       *       *       *

  BROOKLYN, NEW YORK.

     Papa read me about Joseph E. G.'s goat Minnie, and I think mine is
     just as cunning. His name is Sam, and he has no horns. I know he
     loves me, for he follows me all around. I had two rabbits called
     Jennie and Baby. Sam and Jennie used to have good fun chasing each
     other around the yard playing tag. Sam and I are going to Aunt
     Louise's farm next week. Goats eat hay and oats in the winter, and
     they eat all the clothes on the wash-line they can reach, too.

  HARRY D.

       *       *       *       *       *

  WOONSOCKET, RHODE ISLAND.

     I am ten years old, and I have a bird named Dick, seven years old.
     If any one of the family goes near its cage, it spreads its wings
     and opens its mouth and scolds. I have a pet cat named Ned, and
     when I buy catnip for him he tears open the paper.

  LAURA E. M.

       *       *       *       *       *

  POCAHONTAS CENTRE, IOWA.

     I used to live on a farm before I came here. I have no brothers or
     sisters, but I have two dogs, Lassie and Peto. Peto is a splendid
     retriever. I have a pet cat named Belle, and she has two cunning
     kittens. Yesterday my grandpa sent me a bow and arrows all the way
     from Michigan, where I used to live. I study natural history in
     school, and like it the best of all my lessons. I am almost nine
     years old.

  LOUIE B. K.

       *       *       *       *       *

  FORT PLAIN, NEW YORK.

     I would like to tell Willie L. B. that the mounds were made by
     people who lived in our land before the red man came. They are now
     known as the mound-builders. There were also people who made their
     houses in cliffs.

  N. B. G.

There is really nothing known of the history of the mound-builders and
cliff-dwellers, who were early inhabitants of our country. Their mounds
and their dwellings remain, but they are silent monuments of an extinct
people.

       *       *       *       *       *

     If Genevieve will give her address, I will exchange pressed
     flowers with her when ours blossom. I spoke "Fair Play," the poem
     in YOUNG PEOPLE No. 12, in school last Friday.

  ADDIE GOODNOW.
  Albion, New York.

Della Smith, of Keyport, New Jersey, also wishes the address of
Genevieve for the purpose of exchanging pressed flowers. This little
California girl has not yet favored us with her address, but she has no
doubt sent it to some among the many inquirers for her. Probably any
little girl desiring to exchange pressed flowers with Genevieve would be
equally well pleased to do so with any other little girl of California
or other portions of the far West.

       *       *       *       *       *

MAY S.--You will find directions for treatment of moulting birds in
Post-office Box No. 19.

       *       *       *       *       *

WILLIAM A.--About ten years since a law was passed by the Spanish
government that an entire new set of postage stamps should be issued
every year. This law applies not alone to Spain, but also to all its
colonies. A plausible reason for such action is the great prevalence of
counterfeits intended to defraud the government.

       *       *       *       *       *

FRANK A.--An answer to your question respecting barbers' poles is given
in Post-office Box No. 29. The blue is often added to the red and white
by barbers in the United States for a very obvious reason.--For answer
to your other question, see Post-office Box No. 15.

       *       *       *       *       *

"BOB."--If the chest you inquire about was to be opened four hundred
years after the death of the famous sculptor, the time has not yet
arrived, as he died about 1563, only a little more than three hundred
years ago.

       *       *       *       *       *

DAVID R. M.--The specimen you send appears like common gravel mixed with
fibres of last year's leaves. The white glistening bits are quartz. If
there were any shells, they were broken past recognition before reaching
us.

       *       *       *       *       *

PUZZLES FROM YOUNG CONTRIBUTORS.

No. 1.

HOUR-GLASS PUZZLE.

Parts by which things are held. Combs for wool. A rug. In high. A
morass. A pile of sheaves. Parts of a sledge. Centrals read downward
spell a warlike horseman.

  R. D.

       *       *       *       *       *

No. 2.

ENIGMA.

  My first is in broom, but not in sweep.
  My second is in rest, but not in sleep.
  My third is in Ireland, not in Cork.
  My fourth is in idleness, not in work.
  My fifth is in low, but not in high.
  My sixth is in near, but not in nigh.
  My seventh is in you, but not in me.
  My whole is a city in Germany.

  W. S.

       *       *       *       *       *

No. 3.

GEOGRAPHICAL DOUBLE ACROSTIC.

A cape in Africa. A mountain in Asia. A river in Russia. A cape in
Spain. Mountains in the United States. Answer--Primals spell the name of
a city, and finals the country in which it is situated.

  LAURA.

       *       *       *       *       *

No. 4.

WORD SQUARE.

First, numerous. Second, a resinous plant. Third, a girl's name. Fourth,
a period of time.

  W. G. M.

       *       *       *       *       *

No. 5.

ANAGRAMS.

[Each sentence spells one word.]

1. My Norah. 2. Go not, coal-miner. 3. No taste in corn. 4. Lima
pea-nut. 5. A war body. 6. I mean that mica.

  C. P. T.

       *       *       *       *       *

No. 6.

ENIGMA.

  My first is in bread, but not in bun.
  My second is in cannon, but not in gun.
  My third is in nut, but not in shell.
  My fourth is in toll, but not in bell.
  My fifth is in seed, but not in sow.
  My whole was a poet long years ago.

  JAMIE.

       *       *       *       *       *

ANSWERS TO PUZZLES IN NO. 27.

No. 1.

Landseer.

No. 2.

  W H E N
  H A V E
  E V E R
  N E R O

No. 3.

Burgoyne's surrender.

No. 4.

Jefferson.

No. 5.

      E
    O D E
  E D G A R
    E A R
      R

No. 6.

  M  al  L
  A arga U
  R epas T
  T rut  H
  I llum E
  N umbe R

Martin Luther.

       *       *       *       *       *

Favors are acknowledged from Eddie E. Paddock, Nelson B. Greene,
Nicholaus T. Nilsson, Frank Rogers, R. J. Marshall, J. A. W., Bessie
Hyde, Alice Dudley, May A. Welchman, Rose W. Scott, Clarence Marsh,
Fannie L. V., Harry Knapp, Alice Cowen, Dollie Okeson, Mary Tiddy, Harry
T. Cavenaugh, Etta E. B., M. J. Laurie, Bess, N. L. U., F. G. Thatcher,
S. G. Smith.

       *       *       *       *       *

Correct answers to puzzles are received from C. B. Howard, George W.
Raymond, Frank Hayward, "Zenobia," M. S. Brigham, May F. Willard, Mary
L. MacVean, Charles Wieland, "North Star" and "Little Lizzie," Lillie
F., Alice E. Doyle, R. C. D., Josie Frankenberg, John Larking, May L.
Shepard, David R. Morford, Alfy Dale, Harry F. Phillips, Jack Gladwin,
J. W. Thompson, Alice Hammond, A. C. Jaquith.




SPECIAL NOTICE.

       *       *       *       *       *

OUR NEW ILLUSTRATED SERIAL.

       *       *       *       *       *

In the next Number of HARPER'S YOUNG PEOPLE will be found the opening
chapter of a new Serial Story, entitled

"THE MORAL PIRATES,"

written expressly for this paper by WILLIAM L. ALDEN, well known as the
humorist of the New York _Times_. The story, which is full of amusing
incidents and mishaps, describes the adventures of four boys during
their summer vacation. Each Number will be illustrated from spirited
original designs by A. B. FROST.




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  Franklin Square, N. Y.




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CATALOGUE FREE.

R. SIMPSON, 132 Nassau Street, N. Y.




The Child's Book of Nature.

       *       *       *       *       *

The Child's Book of Nature, for the Use of Families and Schools:
intended to aid Mothers and Teachers in Training Children in the
Observation of Nature. In Three Parts. Part I. Plants. Part II. Animals.
Part III. Air, Water, Heat, Light, &c. By WORTHINGTON HOOKER, M.D.
Illustrated. The Three Parts complete in One Volume, Small 4to, Half
Leather, $1.12; or, separately, in Cloth, Part I., 45 cents; Part II.,
48 cents; Part III., 48 cents.

       *       *       *       *       *

A beautiful and useful work. It presents a general survey of the kingdom
of nature in a manner adapted to attract the attention of the child, and
at the same time to furnish him with accurate and important scientific
information. While the work is well suited as a class-book for schools,
its fresh and simple style cannot fail to render it a great favorite for
family reading.

The Three Parts of this book can be had in separate volumes by those who
desire it. This will be advisable when the book is to be used in
teaching quite young children, especially in schools.

       *       *       *       *       *

Published by HARPER & BROTHERS, New York.

_Sent by mail, postage prepaid, to any part of the United States, on
receipt of the price._




HARPER'S YOUNG PEOPLE

AS

A SCHOOL READER.

       *       *       *       *       *

After an experience of fourteen and ten years, respectively, in teaching
English reading, our success has reached high-water mark in using
_Harper's Young People_ as a school reader.

  W. R. WEBB,       } Principals of
  J. M. WEBB,       } Culleoka Institute,
                      Culleoka, Tenn.

       *       *       *       *       *

My pupils are very much pleased with the _Young People_, and I find it
ably assists in supplying them with reading matter, so necessary outside
of their usual school-books. Such reading I have hitherto found
difficult to procure, but I think _Harper's Young People_ will prove
very suitable for our purpose.

  ELLEN MCCLEMENTS,
  Sheboygan, Wis.

       *       *       *       *       *

Please find enclosed a copy of the Resolution that the Board adopted
this afternoon at my urgent request.

  J. H. LEWIS, Supt. of Schools,
  Hastings, Minn.

_Resolved_: "That _Harper's Young People_ be and is hereby adopted by
this Board as the text-book to be used for reading exercises in the
intermediate grades of the public schools."

       *       *       *       *       *

Please send 9 copies of your _Young People_ for nine weeks, to my
address. I am a teacher in a country school, near this city, and fully
appreciate the advantages to be obtained from putting fresh reading
matter constantly before my pupils.

  CHAS. W. MOULTON,
  Minneapolis, Minn.

       *       *       *       *       *

Please send me 100 copies of _Harper's Young People_, divided into 20
copies, each of five different numbers. I want them for supplementary
reading matter in the public schools.

  EDWARD BURGESS, Supt. of Schools,
  Poughkeepsie, N. Y.

       *       *       *       *       *

_Harper's Young People_ is quite popular here. Many of the schools read
from it each week.

  JOSEPH G. EDGERLY, Supt. of Schools,
  Fitchburg, Mass.

       *       *       *       *       *

I am delighted with my experiment in using _Harper's Young People_ in my
school in place of reading books. I get closer attention, and better
reading in the class-room, as well as an increased interest in good
reading matter outside of the school.

  FRANK H. GREENE,
  Carmel, N. Y.

       *       *       *       *       *

I am a teacher in one of the public schools of this city. I take
_Harper's Young People_ to school with me, and my pupils enjoy it very
much.

I have the oldest children in the building, and they can understand all
of the pieces. I read them the articles as a reward for good behavior
and well-learned lessons, and let them copy and work out the puzzles.

It would please you to see how anxiously they wait for each new issue,
and how happy they are when it comes. * * * Permit me to congratulate
you on the success your paper has achieved both here and abroad.

  A TEACHER,
  Buffalo, N. Y.




[Illustration]

HAVING A GOOD TIME.


  "Having a good time," are you?
    But, ah! what would mother say
  If she knew of the two rogues rummaging
    In her bureau drawer to-day?
  "Mamma's gone out," is that it?
    And nurse is "off duty" too?
  And little mice, when the cat is away,
    Find mischief enough to do.

  Well, little golden-haired burglars,
    What do you find for your pains?
  Some garments folded so neatly away,
    And mamma's jewel-case are your gains.
  You look at the jewels before you
    With innocent, joyous surprise;
  But the jewels _I_ like are your own precious selves,
    And like gems are your merry blue eyes.

  But hark! I knew nurse would wonder
    What mischief you two were about;
  "When those children are quiet," I once heard her say,
    "Some mischief I'm sure to find out."
  Oh, dear little rogues, scamper quickly
    Away from temptation and fun;
  Leave the jewels and drawer, ere your fingers
    Be guilty of harm yet undone.




THE PASHA PUZZLE.


Here are two British gun-boats sailing up the Bosporus to rescue British
subjects from brigands.

[Illustration]

Here are three sea-gulls sailing over the British gun-boats.

[Illustration]

Here are two Turkish cimeters to help the British gun-boats against the
brigands.

[Illustration]

Here are two Turkish bayonets to support the cimeters.

[Illustration]

Here is a British shell ready to burst.

[Illustration]

Here is a grim fortress on the banks of the Bosporus.

[Illustration]

Now how are you going to make Hobart Pasha out of all this?




THE STREETS OF CANTON.


They are very narrow and dirty, in the first place, with an average
width of from three to five feet. They are paved with long, narrow slabs
of stone. Their names are often both devotional and poetical. We saw
Peace Street, and the street of Benevolence and Love. Another, by some
violent wrench of the imagination, was called the street of Refreshing
Breezes. Some contented mind had given a name to the street of Early
Bestowed Blessings. The paternal sentiment, so sacred to the Chinaman,
found expression in the street of One Hundred Grandsons and street of
One Thousand Grandsons. There was the street of a Thousand Beatitudes,
which, let us pray, were enjoyed by its founder. There were streets
consecrated to Everlasting Love, to a Thousandfold Peace, to Ninefold
Brightness, to Accumulated Blessings; while a practical soul, who knew
the value of advertising, named his avenue the Market of Golden Profits.

Other streets are named after trades and avocations. There is Betelnut
Street, where you can buy the betel-nut, of which we saw so much in
Siam, and the Cocoanut, and Drink Tea. There is where the Chinese hats
are sold, and where you can buy the finery of a mandarin for a few
shillings. There is Eyeglass Street, where the compass is sold; and if
you choose to buy a compass, there is no harm in remembering that we owe
the invention of that subtle instrument to China. Another street is
given to the manufacture of bows and arrows; another to Prussian blue; a
third to the preparation of furs.

The shops have signs in Chinese characters, gold letters on a red and
black ground, which are hung in front, a foot or two from the wall, and
droop before you as you pass under them.

One of the annoyances of the streets is the passage through them of
mandarins in their palanquins, surrounded by guards, who strike the
foot-passengers with their whips if they do not get out of the way
quickly enough.




[Illustration: THE INTERRUPTED RIDE.]





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