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      The Project Gutenberg eBook of Harper's Young People, August 1, 1882, by Various.
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<div>*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 58896 ***</div>


<div class="center">
<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" summary="">
<tr><td align="left"><a href="#MR_STUBBSS_BROTHER">MR. STUBBS'S BROTHER.</a></td></tr>
<tr><td align="left"><a href="#ADVICE_TO_BOYS">ADVICE TO BOYS.</a></td></tr>
<tr><td align="left"><a href="#UP_THE_CREEK">UP THE CREEK.</a></td></tr>
<tr><td align="left"><a href="#THE_FIRST_GRENADIER_OF_FRANCE">THE "FIRST GRENADIER OF FRANCE."</a></td></tr>
<tr><td align="left"><a href="#A_NIGHT_ON_CHOCORUA">A NIGHT ON CHOCORUA.</a></td></tr>
<tr><td align="left"><a href="#THE_DAISY_TRAIL">THE DAISY TRAIL.</a></td></tr>
<tr><td align="left"><a href="#MILLIES_NILE-BIRD_HAT">MILLIE'S NILE-BIRD HAT.</a></td></tr>
<tr><td align="left"><a href="#MAX_RANDERS_WILD_TIGER">MAX RANDER'S WILD TIGER.</a></td></tr>
<tr><td align="left"><a href="#RUSTIC_ADORNMENTS_FOR_LAWN_AND_GARDEN">RUSTIC ADORNMENTS FOR LAWN AND GARDEN.</a></td></tr>
<tr><td align="left"><a href="#JAPANESE_FAN_TALES">JAPANESE FAN TALES.</a></td></tr>
<tr><td align="left"><a href="#OUR_POST-OFFICE_BOX">OUR POST-OFFICE BOX.</a></td></tr>
</table></div>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_625" id="Page_625">[Pg 625]</a></span></p>

<div class="figcenter" style="width: 800px;">
<img src="images/ill_001.jpg" width="800" height="312" alt="HARPER'S YOUNG PEOPLE" />
</div>

<hr class="full" />

<div class="center">
<table border="0" cellpadding="4" cellspacing="0" width="100%" summary="">
<tr><td align="left"><span class="smcap">vol. iii.&mdash;no</span>. 144.</td><td align="center"><span class="smcap">Published by HARPER &amp; BROTHERS. New York</span>.</td><td align="right"><span class="smcap">price four cents</span>.</td></tr>
<tr><td align="left">Tuesday, August 1, 1882.</td><td align="center">Copyright, 1882, by <span class="smcap">Harper &amp; Brothers</span>.</td><td align="right">$1.50 per Year, in Advance.</td></tr>
</table></div>

<hr class="full" />

<div class="figcenter" style="width: 700px;"><a name="MR_STUBBSS_BROTHER" id="MR_STUBBSS_BROTHER"></a>
<img src="images/ill_002.jpg" width="700" height="430" alt="" />
<span class="caption">BOB AND THE "GRIZZLEE BARE."</span>
</div>

<h2>MR. STUBBS'S BROTHER.<a name="FNanchor_1_1" id="FNanchor_1_1"></a><a href="#Footnote_1_1" class="fnanchor">[1]</a></h2>

<h3>BY JAMES OTIS,</h3>

<p class="center"><span class="smcap">Author of "Toby Tyler," "Tim and Tip," etc</span>.</p>

<h3><span class="smcap">Chapter XVIII</span>.</h3>

<h3>COLLECTING THE ANIMALS.</h3>

<p>It was quite a task to extract the porcupine quills from Mr. Stubbs's
brother, because the operation was painful, and he danced about in a way
that seriously interfered with the work.</p>

<p>But the last one was out after a time, and the monkey was marched along
between Joe and Toby, looking very repentant now that he was in his
master's power again.</p>

<p>"I tell you what it is," said Joe, sagely, after he had walked awhile in
silence as if studying some matter, "we'd better get about six big
chains an' fasten Mr. Stubbs's brother to the tent; 'cause if we keep on
tryin' to train him, he'll keep on gettin' loose, an' before he gets
through with it, we sha'n't have any show left."</p>

<p>"I think that's the best thing we can do," panted Leander; "'cause if
all hands of us has to start out many times like this, some of the boys
will come up while we're off, an' pull the tent down."</p>

<p>"We can tie him in the tent, and have him for a wild man of Borneo,"
suggested Joe.</p>

<p>"I guess we won't train him," replied Toby, rather sorry to deprive his
pet of the pleasure of being one of the performers, and yet fearing the
trouble he would cause if they should try to make anything more than an
ordinary monkey out of him.</p>

<p>The pursuit had led the boys farther from home than<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_626" id="Page_626">[Pg 626]</a></span> they were aware of,
and it was noon when, weary and hungry, they arrived at the tent, where
they found the other party, who had given up the search some time
before. They had travelled through the woods without hearing or seeing
anything of the runaway, and had returned in the hope that the others
had been more successful.</p>

<p>Leaving Mr. Stubbs's brother in charge of the partners, who, it was safe
to say, would now take very good care to prevent his escape, Toby
hurried into the house to see Abner.</p>

<p>The sick boy was no better, Aunt Olive said, neither did he appear to be
any worse&mdash;he was sleeping then; and, after eating some of his dinner at
the table, and taking the remainder in his hands, Toby went out to the
tent again.</p>

<p>He found his partners indulging in an animated discussion as to when the
performance should be given.</p>

<p>Reddy was in favor of having it within two or three days at furthest;
Bob thought that, as Mr. Stubbs's brother was not to be one of the
performers, there was no reason for delay.</p>

<p>All the others were of the same opinion, but Toby urged them to wait
until Abner could take part in it.</p>

<p>To this Bob had a very reasonable objection: in two weeks more school
would begin, and then, of course, the circus would be out of the
question. If their first exhibition should be a success, as it
undoubtedly would be, they could give a second performance when Abner
should get well enough to attend it; and that would be quite as pleasing
to him as for all the talent to remain idle while waiting for his
recovery.</p>

<p>Toby felt that his partners asked him to do only that which was fair.
The circus scheme had already done Abner more harm than good, and, as he
did not seem to be dangerously sick, it would be unkind to the others to
insist on waiting.</p>

<p>"I'd rather Abner was with us when we had the first show," said Toby;
"but I s'pose it'll be just as well to go ahead with it, an' then give
another after he can come out."</p>

<p>"Then we'll have it Saturday afternoon; an' while Reddy's fixin' up the
tickets, Ben an' I'll get the animals up here, so's to see how they'll
look, an' to let 'em get kinder used to the tent."</p>

<p>Reddy was a boy who did not believe in wasting any time after a matter
was decided upon, and almost as soon as Toby consented to go on with the
show, he went for materials with which to make posters and tickets.</p>

<p>His activity aroused the others, and all started out to bring in the
animals, leaving Toby to guard Mr. Stubbs's brother and the tent. The
canvas would take care of itself, so long as it was unmolested, but the
other portion of Toby's charge was not so easily managed. After much
thought, however, he settled the monkey question by tying Mr. Stubbs's
brother to the end pole, with a rope long enough to allow him to climb
nearly to the top, but short enough to keep him at a safe distance from
the canvas.</p>

<p>By the time this was done, Ben arrived with the first installment of
curiosities. His crowing hen he had under his arm, and Mrs. Simpson's
three-legged cat and four kittens he brought in a basket.</p>

<p>"Joe's got a cage 'most built for the hen, an' I'll fix one for the cat
this afternoon," he said, as he seated himself on the basket, and held
the hen in his lap.</p>

<p>"You can't fix it if you've got to hold her," said Toby, as he brought
from the barn a bushel basket, which was converted into a coop by
turning it bottom side up, and putting the hen underneath it.</p>

<p>Ben was about to search the barn for the purpose of finding some
materials with which to build the cat's cage, when a great noise was
heard outside, and the two partners left the tent hurriedly.</p>

<p>"It's Bob an' his calf," said Ben, who had got out first, and then he
started toward the new-comers at full speed.</p>

<p>It was Bob and his calf; but the animal should have been mentioned
first; for it seemed very much as if he were bringing his master,
instead of being brought by him. In order to carry his cage of mice and
lead the calf at the same time, Bob had tied the rope that held this
representative of a grizzly bear around his waist, and had taken the
cage under his arm. This plan had worked well enough until just as they
were entering the field that led to the tent, when Bob tripped and fell,
scaring the calf so that he started at full speed for the barn, of
course dragging the unfortunate Bob with him.</p>

<p>Sometimes on his face, sometimes on his back, screaming for help
whenever his mouth was uppermost, and clinging firmly to the cage of
mice, Bob was dragged almost to the door of the tent, where the
frightened animal was finally secured.</p>

<p>"Well, I've got him here, an' I hain't lost a single mouse," said Bob,
as he counted his treasures before even scraping the dirt from his face.</p>

<p>Ben and Toby led the calf into the tent after some difficulty, owing to
the attempts of Mr. Stubbs's brother to frighten him, and then they did
their best to separate the dirt from their partner.</p>

<p>In this good work they had but partially succeeded, when Reddy arrived
with a large package of brown paper, and his cat without a tail. This
startling curiosity he carried in a bag slung over his shoulder, and
from the expression on his face when he came up it seemed almost certain
that the cat's claws had passed through the bag and into her master's
flesh.</p>

<p>"There," he exclaimed, with a sigh of relief, as he threw his live
burden at the foot of the post to which Mr. Stubbs's brother was tied.
"I've kept shiftin' that cat from one shoulder to the other ever since I
started, an' I tell you she can scratch as well as if she had a tail as
long as the monkey's."</p>

<p>It surely seemed as if the work of building the cages had been too long
neglected, for here were a number of curiosities without anything in
which they could be exhibited, and the audience might be dissatisfied if
asked to pay to see a cat in a bag, or a hen under a bushel basket.</p>

<p>Toby spoke of this, and Bob assured him that it could easily be arranged
as soon as all the partners should arrive.</p>

<p>"You see, we've got to carry Mrs. Simpson's cat an' kittens home every
night, 'cause she says the rats are so thick she can spare her only
daytimes, an' we don't need a cage for her till the show comes off,"
said Bob, as he bustled around again to find materials.</p>

<p>Mr. Stubbs's brother demanded his master's attention about this time,
owing to his attempts to make friends with the calf. From the time that
this peaceful animal, who was to be transformed into a grizzly bear, had
been brought into the tent, the monkey had tried in every possible way
to get at him, and the calf had shown unmistakable signs of a desire to
butt the monkey. But the ropes which held them both had prevented the
meeting. Now, however, Bob detected Mr. Stubbs's brother in trying to
bite his rope in two, and it was considered necessary to set a guard
over him.</p>

<p>Reddy was already busily engaged in painting the posters, despite the
confusion that reigned, and as his work would keep him inside the tent,
he was chosen to have general care of the animals&mdash;a task which he,
without a thought of possible consequences, accepted cheerfully.</p>

<p>Leander and Joe came together, the first bringing his accordion, and
four rabbits in a cage, and the last carrying five striped squirrels in
a pasteboard box.</p>

<p>Leander was the only one who had been thoughtful enough to have his
animals ready for exhibition, and the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_627" id="Page_627">[Pg 627]</a></span> cage in which the long-eared pets
were confined bore the inscription, done in a very fanciful way with
blue and red crayons: "Wolves. Keep off!"</p>

<p>This cage was placed in the corner near the band stand, where the
musician could attend to his musical work and have a watchful eye on his
pets at the same time.</p>

<p>Reddy had been busily engaged in painting a notice to be hung up over
the calf; and as he fastened it to the barn just over the spot where the
animal was to be kept, Bob read, with no small degree of pride in the
thought that he was the fortunate possessor of such a prize:</p>

<div class="figcenter" style="width: 400px;">
<img src="images/ill_003.jpg" width="400" height="78" alt="Grizzlee Bare from the Rockey Mountains" />
</div>

<p>Then the artist went back to his task of painting posters, while the
others set to work, full of determination to build the necessary number
of cages, if there was wood enough in Uncle Daniel's barn.</p>

<p>They found timber enough and to spare; but as it was not exactly the
kind they wanted, Toby proposed that they should all go over to the
house, explain the matter to Aunt Olive, and ask her to give them as
many empty boxes as she could afford to part with.</p>

<p>As has been said before, Aunt Olive looked upon the circus scheme with
favor, and when she was called upon to aid in the way of furnishing
cages for wild animals, she gave the boys full permission to take all
the boxes they could find in the shed. They found so many that they were
able to select those best suited to the different animals, and yet have
quite a stock to fall back upon in case they should make additions to
their menagerie.</p>

<h4>[<span class="smcap">to be continued</span>.]</h4>

<hr class="chap" />
<h2><a name="ADVICE_TO_BOYS" id="ADVICE_TO_BOYS">ADVICE TO BOYS.</a></h2>

<h3>BY H.&nbsp;C. VAN GIESEN, M.D.</h3>

<h3>HOW TO RESTORE PERSONS APPARENTLY DROWNED.</h3>

<p>Every boy should know how to swim, and it should be a part of every
boy's early education. But even good swimmers are exposed to the danger
of drowning; and to show what to do for an apparently drowned person is
the object of this article. When life is supposed to be extinct, proper
exertions will often restore the circulation, and establish breathing.
It is estimated that a minute and a half's submersion is sufficient to
cause death by drowning, and hence the necessity of rescuing a person
from the water as quickly as possible, and using restorative measures
promptly, is very great.</p>

<p>As soon as the body is taken from the water, the feet and lower part of
the body should be elevated, and the head allowed to hang down, that the
water may be allowed to run out of the throat and mouth as much as
possible; then the clothing should be removed from the upper part of the
body, exposing the chest. The person should then be placed upon his
back, with a roll of clothing or something else convenient to form a
pillow, upon which the shoulders should rest. Then some one present
should take hold of the arms just below the elbow, and slowly raise them
above the head, so that the elbows may nearly touch on a line parallel
with the body; then as slowly bring down the arms to the side of the
chest, pressing the elbows firmly against the ribs. This movement must
be repeated many times, alternately extending the arms, and replacing
them by the side. The object is to cause expansion and contraction of
the chest walls, and thus mechanically causing the entrance of air into
and exit from the lungs.</p>

<p>It is advisable, also, to see that the tongue has not fallen back into
the mouth, and in case it has done so, to seize it with the thumb and
finger, and draw it forward. Dashing cold water in the face may also be
tried. The feet and legs should be rubbed dry, and kept warm by wrapping
in dry clothing or blankets if they can be obtained.</p>

<p>When the least sign of breathing is seen, the exertion should be
actively continued, and pressure made upon the chest wall at short
intervals to aid the expulsion of the air in the lungs, and allow fresh
air to enter. If ammonia is available, it should be poured on a
handkerchief, and held at a little distance from the nose at occasional
intervals; and when the breathing is established, if brandy or some
other stimulant, as whiskey or alcohol even, can be procured, a small
quantity, say half a tea-spoonful in a tea-spoonful or two of water,
should be cautiously given, and repeated in fifteen minutes.</p>

<p>After animation is restored, the person should be wrapped up warmly in
blankets, and seclusion should be observed.</p>

<p>Efforts such as these are often rewarded with success, and no one
recently taken from the water should ever be given up as drowned until
they are faithfully tried. It is never safe for a boy to go in swimming
alone, for unforeseen accidents may occur, such as cramps, or
entanglement in weeds. Some other hidden danger may spring up, as
unexpected force of current, or great depth of water, and then it is
safer by far to have help within calling distance.</p>

<p>In cities, swimming-schools supply the place which nature affords to the
boy in the country. The feeling of security which a knowledge of the art
of swimming secures to its possessor compensates for all the danger and
trouble one is exposed to in acquiring it.</p>

<hr class="chap" />
<p class="center"><a name="UP_THE_CREEK" id="UP_THE_CREEK"></a>[Continued from page 612, No. 143, <span class="smcap">Harper's Young People</span>.]</p>

<h2>UP THE CREEK.</h2>

<h3>BY WILLIAM O. STODDARD.</h3>

<p>They knew, but the very excitement of it kept them silent, and Quill
again gave up the oars to the stranger. He made short work of that
stretch of smooth, sunny water, and the <i>Ark</i>'s original crew were proud
of her. It seemed but a few minutes before she ran almost up on shore in
a little cove of the thickly wooded islet.</p>

<p>"Magnificent! Ours by right of discovery. Boys, we must have a fire. You
go for loose sticks and things, while I kindle one."</p>

<p>What could they do but shout their loudest, and dart away after supplies
of fire-wood?</p>

<p>"He's got some matches," said Quill. "He's lighting a piece of paper.
He's kindling some brush."</p>

<p>He was certainly a very remarkable man for two boy-boatmen to meet on a
cruise like the one in question, for, even while the bright blaze leaped
out through the first black smudge of smoke, he burst into another
foreign song.</p>

<p>The stranger was standing by his fire, fanning it with his wide-brimmed
straw hat, and his closely trimmed curly head was bare. They could guess
that he was not more than twenty, and he was a very handsome young
fellow, if his clothes had not been so fine.</p>

<p>"This is great," he muttered to himself. "First piece of genuine
out-and-out fun I've had since I got here. Hullo, what's this?"</p>

<p>There had been an unnoticed rustle among the trees and bushes to the
right of him.</p>

<p>"Please, sir, we&mdash;we&mdash;we're&mdash;are&mdash;are&mdash;all drownded."</p>

<p>The words came out all broken to pieces by childish sobs, and there
stood a pretty little barefooted girl of eight or nine summers looking
up at him. Her rosy face was wet with tears, and the larger share of her
dress looked as if it were wet with Pawg Lake water.</p>

<p>"Drowned, my dear? Is that so? Were you drowned?"</p>

<p>"N-n-n-o&mdash;no, sir."</p>

<p>"Were any of the rest drowned?"</p>

<p>"N-n-n-o, sir, but Aunt Sally can't make the boat swim, 'cause there's
come a hole in it."</p>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_628" id="Page_628">[Pg 628]</a></span></p>

<p>"That's awful. Tell Aunt Sally to bring it to me, and I'll mend it."</p>

<p>"She&mdash;she can't come. She's lost one of her shoes."</p>

<p>"Is that so? We must go and hunt for that shoe."</p>

<p>"We did hunt, and she got her feet wet. It's in the mud. 'Way down."</p>

<p>"Boys, come on. We've got a shipwreck."</p>

<p>"Hear that, Quill?"</p>

<p>"See that girl, Mort? There's something happened. Come on."</p>

<p>They stopped as they went by to throw their armfuls of sticks and bark
on the fire, and then they dashed after their dandy fisherman, who was
already following the eager leading of the wet little girl. She was in a
desperate hurry, and she led the way almost straight across the islet.
This did not contain more than a couple of acres of rocks and trees, and
was easy to cross; but there on the northern shore was a scene which
both Mort Hopkins and Quill Sanders understood at a glance.</p>

<p>A large, square-nosed, rickety-looking old punt of a boat was pulled
part way up on a log at the water's edge, and anybody could see that one
of her worn-out bottom boards had fallen away bodily from its proper
place.</p>

<p>"There's no sort of float in that thing," said Quill to Mort.</p>

<p>"No, sirree; she's done for."</p>

<p>"One, two, three, four, five, besides my little wet messenger," remarked
their grown-up friend. And then he added: "I declare! A young lady!"</p>

<p>They saw him color slightly, too, as a tall, well-dressed, and quite
pretty girl of seventeen or near it slowly arose from the rock on which
she had been sitting. She did not come forward, and she was blushing,
and Quill whispered:</p>

<p>"Mort, where's her other shoe?"</p>

<p>"Lost it, I guess. They're awfully shipwrecked. Let's rescue 'em."</p>

<p>"Hush! Hear that fellow talk. She's telling him all about it."</p>

<p>There was very little to tell. She had taken her sister and niece and
some little girls who were visiting them out for a boat ride on Pawg
Lake. They all lived near the head of it. The girls danced about. The
boat began to leak. She rowed to the islet because it was nearest. She
tried to fix the loose board, and it came all the way off. They had been
there for hours. Nobody on shore knew where they were.</p>

<p>"How many mothers are anxious?" asked the dandy fisherman.</p>

<p>"Three, and quite a number of aunts and uncles and fathers."</p>

<p>"We must put you ashore at once, then. I really can not doctor that
boat. Boys, may I land them in the <i>Ark</i>?"</p>

<p>"Why, that's what we came for," said Quill Sanders, a little vaguely.</p>

<p>"What they came for?" said the young lady, with one foot a trifle behind
the other.</p>

<p>"Exactly," said the fisherman. "All the way from I don't know where. I'm
only a foremast hand. They are the captains and owners. Will you walk
over? No, please, I'll bring the <i>Ark</i> around here."</p>

<p>"Thank you, I wish you would."</p>

<p>"Come on, boys. This is better fun than catching trout."</p>

<p>"Well, it is," said Mort.</p>

<p>"Mister," remarked Quill, "if we all crowd into the <i>Ark</i>, we'll sink
her."</p>

<p>"We must look out for that. You and Mort stay here, and I'll row the
girls ashore, and come back after you."</p>

<p>"Capital idea! We'll take her right around, and rescue 'em all."</p>

<p>They did so; but just as they were pulling to the beach where the old
punt lay, Mort came out of a sort of thoughtful fit, and said, suddenly:</p>

<p>"Guess it won't do, Quill. You and I'll stay and take care of the
island, while he puts the girls ashore."</p>

<p>"I don't care. Let him."</p>

<p>The pretty young lady was the first to remark upon the small size of the
<i>Ark</i>, and received for reply:</p>

<p>"She's withered a good deal since Noah's time. If you'll take the stern
seat, I'll try and stow the rest in. The boys have volunteered to wait
here for me."</p>

<p>"We shall crowd your boat."</p>

<p>"Not at all; but there will be no room for them to dance out any of the
bottom boards. The passengers must keep still. Is it of any use to fish
around for your shoe?"</p>

<p>"No, sir. It's in the mud. I stepped out in a hurry. It came off."</p>

<div class="figcenter" style="width: 500px;">
<img src="images/ill_004.jpg" width="500" height="381" alt="" />
<span class="caption">THE SHIPWRECKED PARTY RESCUED BY THE "ARK."</span>
</div>

<p>"I see. Yes. Glad you took better care of the other. I'm sorry for that
shoe. Now, children&mdash;young ladies, I mean&mdash;if you don't want another
shipwreck, and all to be drowned again, you'll keep still till we get
ashore. If any of you wish to speak to me, call me Ham. All the rest of
the <i>Ark</i>'s original crew have gone somewhere."</p>

<p>Away he pulled, and Quill Sanders and Mort Hopkins sat on the shore and
watched him, until the former exclaimed:</p>

<p>"Mort, we might as well save the time. Let's go and eat something."</p>

<p>"It's a big thing, Quill. We'll have an awful time getting home."</p>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_629" id="Page_629">[Pg 629]</a></span></p>

<p>The fire was blazing finely, and the two young discoverers found their
appetites all they could ask for. They even discussed the propriety of
cooking a trout or so, but decided that it would be better to catch some
fish for themselves. There were plenty of promising places along shore,
but the results astonished them.</p>

<p>"Mort," said Quill, at the end of ten minutes, "did you ever know fish
to bite this way?"</p>

<p>"Never. Got another. Here he comes&mdash;perch. What's yours?"</p>

<p>"Hurrah! it's a pickerel."</p>

<p>Not a very heavy one, but in he came, and the excitement of that next
hour of Pawg Lake fishing made it seem a wonderfully short one.</p>

<p>"Quill," said Mort, "there he comes."</p>

<p>"I knew he'd bring the boat back."</p>

<p>"Of course he would."</p>

<p>There he was in a few minutes more, smiling as ever, and remarking,
"Come along, boys; you are both wanted at Ararat."</p>

<p>"Where?" said Quill.</p>

<p>"Where the <i>Ark</i> landed her passengers. Come along. I'm a dove, with no
end of olive branch in my mouth."</p>

<p>They gathered their fish, and hurried into the boat, while he explained
that the long absence of that shipwrecked young lady and her younger
companions had stirred up a tremendous excitement along the shores of
Pawg Lake, and that their rescue was no small affair.</p>

<p>"I have been kissed by any number of mothers and aunts, and have had to
shake hands with quite a large body of men. You boys must come and take
your share."</p>

<p>"Don't you do it, Quill," said Mort. "Let's go right home."</p>

<p>"Yes, mister. I say, give me the oars, and I'll start for the creek."</p>

<p>"Couldn't think of it, my young friends. I gave my word I would bring
you ashore."</p>

<p>There was no help for it, and in what seemed to them a terribly short
time Quill and Mort were the centre of a crowd of people in a big
farm-house. They were compelled to eat again until they could not eat
any more; but Quill remarked, in a whisper:</p>

<p>"Glad none of 'em hugged me, Mort. That woman looked like it."</p>

<p>The whole subject of the voyage of discovery came out, and when dinner
was over&mdash;it was supper too, and almost anything else&mdash;and the boys
declared they must set out for home, a big man, who owned the
farm-house, and was father of the young lady and her sister, and uncle
of the wet little girl, got up and said:</p>

<p>"Home? Of course. Come on, boys. I've fixed all that."</p>

<p>So he had; for there was the largest kind of a lumber wagon, with the
<i>Ark</i> already in it, and a man holding the horses, ready to start.</p>

<p>"That's our boat," said Quill.</p>

<p>"So it is," said the dandy fisherman. "I'm going with you. It's the
first voyage of discovery that ever went home overland, ship and all."</p>

<p>"Quill," whispered Mort just then, "either she's found her shoe, or she
had another pair."</p>

<p>The young lady was blushing remarkably all the while they were getting
into the wagon, and the fisherman said "good-by" for the crew of the
<i>Ark</i>.</p>

<p>When they reached Corry Centre, the driver pulled up in front of the
village tavern.</p>

<p>"Here's your trout," said Quill, as their strange friend sprang lightly
out.</p>

<p>"Keep 'em&mdash;keep 'em. Best day's fun I ever had. I'm coming down to hunt
you boys up to-morrow. Good-by. Take care of the <i>Ark</i>."</p>

<p>"Good-by!" they both shouted as they were hurried away. But they had to
turn at once and answer the driver's question about where he was to go
next.</p>

<p>They were glad enough to get home safe and sound; but even when the
<i>Ark</i> was once more floating in Taponican Creek, near the bridge, Quill
and Mort had to look hard at her and at each other, and then at the
trout and their own strings of Pawg Lake fish, before they could quite
make up their minds that they had not been dreaming a good deal that
splendid Saturday.</p>

<h4><span class="smcap">the end</span>.</h4>

<hr class="chap" />
<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_630" id="Page_630">[Pg 630]</a></span></p>

<div class="figcenter" style="width: 465px;">
<img src="images/ill_005.jpg" width="465" height="500" alt="" />
<span class="caption">"ME'S SICK."</span>
</div>

<hr class="chap" />
<h2><a name="THE_FIRST_GRENADIER_OF_FRANCE" id="THE_FIRST_GRENADIER_OF_FRANCE">THE "FIRST GRENADIER OF FRANCE."</a></h2>

<h3>BY C.&nbsp;W. FISHER.</h3>

<p>How many of the young people have ever heard the story of that
simple-hearted, brave soldier of Napoleon's empire, so long known as the
"First Grenadier of France"?</p>

<p>Born in the provinces, La Tour d'Auvergne received a thorough military
schooling, and entered the army when quite young.</p>

<p>Throughout a career of nearly twoscore years, he served ever with
fidelity and distinction, yet always refused the promotion which was
constantly offered him, preferring, as he said, the familiar duties of
the grenadier to even the glories of a marshal.</p>

<p>His wishes were, in a measure, respected. He held always the rank of
Captain, though eventually his command equalled in numbers almost ten
regiments.</p>

<p>After his death, which occurred in action, there was instituted in the
regiment with which he had been connected, and by the express directions
of Bonaparte himself, a most touching tribute to his faithful service.
His name had never been stricken from the roll, and at its call, upon
the daily parade, the oldest veteran present would step forward, and
saluting, answer, "Died on the field of battle."</p>

<p>The details of his history show that his life was well worthy the honors
thus paid to his memory, and many incidents are told of him which
illustrate his unselfish devotion to the profession he loved so well.</p>

<p>Upon one occasion, being on furlough, he paid a visit to an old friend
in a section of the country as yet remote from actual war.</p>

<p>While there, he learned that a detachment of several hundred Austrians,
having in view the prevention of a certain important movement of the
French, was on the march to a spot where this purpose could be easily
accomplished. To reach this they must pass through a narrow defile,
guarded by an old stone tower, which was garrisoned by perhaps half a
company of French soldiers.</p>

<p>To warn these of their danger in time to prepare for defense was the aim
of our hero, and putting up a slender store of provisions, he started
off.</p>

<p>To his dismay he found on arriving at the tower that his comrades had
been only too well warned already, and had fled, even leaving their
muskets and a goodly supply of ammunition behind them.</p>

<p>He knew that if the Austrians could be held in check long enough to
allow the completion of the French man&oelig;uvre, by that time tower and
pass would be of little use to either side. He determined,
single-handed, to make the fight against a regiment.</p>

<p>There were many conditions which favored the successful carrying out of
this brave resolve. The tower could be approached only through a narrow
ravine, in which but two or three men could walk abreast, and as he was
abundantly supplied with arms, the grenadier did not despair of at least
partial success. He barricaded the doors, carefully loaded all the
muskets, which he placed in convenient positions for instant handling,
made a good meal off the food he had brought with him, and then sat down
to await the enemy.</p>

<p>He was unmolested until near dawn, when unusual sounds without announced
the Austrians' approach.</p>

<p>They halted at the mouth of the defile, and almost immediately an
officer, bearing a flag of truce, appeared with a demand for surrender.</p>

<p>D'Auvergne answered the call, replying that "the garrison would defend
itself to the last," and the messenger, little suspecting that the
entire garrison was comprised in the person of the single soldier who
stood before him, retired.</p>

<p>A small cannon was shortly after brought to bear upon the tower; but our
grenadier made such good use of his weapons that half a dozen of the
Austrians lay wounded upon the ground before they could fire a single
shot. Finding this mode of attack ineffectual, an assault was ordered;
but as the head of the column came within range of the tower, so deadly
a fire was poured upon it that it was ordered back amid great confusion.</p>

<p>Two further attacks were made, with like results, and when night fell,
the solitary grenadier was still in possession of his stronghold, and
unhurt, while nearly fifty of the enemy were either killed or wounded.</p>

<p>Sunset brought a second summons to yield, with an intimation that, if
refused, a regular siege would be entered upon, and kept up until hunger
should compel submission.</p>

<p>Deeming the twenty-four hours which had elapsed sufficient time for the
accomplishment of the French move, D'Auvergne returned answer that the
garrison would surrender the following morning if allowed safe-conduct
to the French lines, and permission to retain its arms. These terms,
after a little parley, were acceded to.</p>

<p>At daybreak on the morrow, accordingly, the enemy were drawn up to
receive the vanquished garrison.</p>

<p>The door of the tower opened, and a soiled and scarred veteran,
literally staggering under the weight of as many muskets as he could
carry, walked slowly between the ranks, and depositing his load at the
feet of the Colonel, saluted. To the surprise of the latter, no one
followed.</p>

<p>"But where is the garrison, grenadier?" asked he.</p>

<p>"Sir, I am the garrison," replied the soldier.</p>

<p>For a moment astonishment held the Austrian dumb; then ordering his
command to present arms, and raising his cap, "Grenadier, I salute you,"
said he: "so brave a deed is without parallel."</p>

<p>The desired escort was provided, and with it was sent a dispatch
relating the whole affair.</p>

<p>When the circumstance became known to the Emperor, the offer of
promotion was renewed, and again declined, and D'Auvergne remained to
the day of his death simply the "First Grenadier of France."</p>

<hr class="chap" />
<h2><a name="A_NIGHT_ON_CHOCORUA" id="A_NIGHT_ON_CHOCORUA">A NIGHT ON CHOCORUA.</a></h2>

<h3>BY ESEMEE.</h3>

<p>"Where's your Tom Matthews, Ned?" said Phil Hartshorn. "Here it is half
past nine by my watch, and he was to be on hand at nine sharp."</p>

<p>As he spoke a little freckled boy came panting up to them, saying: "Tom
says as how he can't go up 'Corua to-day nohow. He's sick with suthin
I've forgot the name of. He's awful sorry, and said if yer'd only hold
on till to-morrer, he'd go; and he thinks it'll be a sight better day,
too, for he's 'most sure there'll be a thunderin' big shower to-night."</p>

<p>"Nonsense!" said Dick; "there isn't one chance in a million of a shower;
sky is as clear as a bell."</p>

<p>"But," says Arthur, "there are no two ways about it. Mother said we were
not to go if Tom Matthews were not here."</p>

<p>"You don't suppose mother really meant that?" said his brother Phil.</p>

<p>"Now, Cousin Arthur," said Dick, "you just put that conscience of yours
to sleep as fast as you can.</p>

<p>
<span style="margin-left: 19em;">"'Hush-a-by, conscience, on the tree-top,</span><br />
<span style="margin-left: 19em;">Dear Mrs. Hartshorn would never say stop.'"</span><br />
</p>

<p>"But, Arthur," interrupted Ned, "she wouldn't care if she knew how many
times I've been up Chocorua. Why, I've been to the top thousands of
times. I know the way just as well as Tom."</p>

<p>Though Arthur's duty was as clear to him as at first, he decided to take
Dick's advice, and silence his conscience.</p>

<p>Half an hour later they were climbing up the steep side of the mountain,
laden with the tent, provisions, and other necessaries for their night's
encampment.</p>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_631" id="Page_631">[Pg 631]</a></span></p>

<p>Chocorua is one of the most difficult of the New Hampshire hills to
ascend, not so much on account of its height as its rocky and steep
outline. To Ned Brown, however, accustomed to scrambling over the hills
of his native place, it was simply a very tiresome walk; but to the
three city boys, who for the first time were spending part of their
vacation among the mountains, it was a novel and rough experience.
Nevertheless, their spirits did not flag, and about two o'clock they had
reached the rocky summit, as tired and hungry a set of boys as you ever
saw.</p>

<p>They soon found a comfortable spot, where they threw themselves down at
full length, and at Dick Harris's suggestion pitched into the eatables
which Mrs. Brown had put up for them.</p>

<p>After a while Ned exclaimed: "Look here, boys, you can't spend the whole
afternoon eating. Just clap two or three doughnuts into your pockets,
and come along. We've got to get ready for the night."</p>

<p>"Wait a week," said Dick, "until I take one more drink of coffee; then
we'll go and explore the country."</p>

<p>"Can't you remember, Ned, where you generally pitch your tent?" said
Arthur.</p>

<p>"Tom Matthews pretty much always bosses that business," answered Ned.</p>

<p>"I guess we can find as good a place as Tom Matthews," said Phil. "There
it is now, right ahead&mdash;don't you see?&mdash;down in that hollow under that
tall tree."</p>

<p>"All right; let's make for it, then," said Ned. "We haven't any time to
lose."</p>

<p>Some hours later Ned called out: "Now that everything is ready for the
night, you shall have a high old supper. You needn't any of you put your
fingers in the pie either. I'm goin' to make a regular lumberman's
pudding. Dick, just hand me that tin plate, will you?"</p>

<p>"No, sir, I can't even do that; it might be putting the very finger into
the pie, or rather pudding, which would spoil the whole. I am not going
to run any such risk."</p>

<p>"That's too thin&mdash;a capital excuse for laziness&mdash;but I can do it myself
fortunately. First, you see, I cut a slit in this stick, and slip the
edge of the plate into it, and that makes a tip-top spider. Next I put
in some pieces of fat pork, and am goin' to fry them over this blazin'
fire. When the pork is done, I'll take that out, and crumb this
pilot-bread into the fat."</p>

<p>"What a mess!" the boys all exclaimed. "You don't expect us to eat that
stuff, do you?"</p>

<p>"You needn't trouble yourselves; I can eat every bit of it. Wait till I
sprinkle white sugar all over it thick and heavy, and then it is done.
Come, do you want any, or shall I eat it all myself?"</p>

<p>"As Caterer Brown has made it, we won't hurt his feelings by refusing,"
said Arthur. "Hand it along."</p>

<p>"Well, Ned," said Phil, "this is capital. Do they teach cooking in your
school, or has Miss Parloa been in this part of the country?"</p>

<p>"Oh, last winter when I camped out up North with father and the other
lumbermen, they used to make this 'most every night, and I tell you it
tasted mighty good."</p>

<p>After supper the boys whiled away the time telling stories. The most
interesting one was the legend of Chocorua, the Indian chief after whom
the mountain was named.</p>

<p>Chocorua had a son, a boy of ten or twelve years, who often visited the
house of a white man who lived in Albany, at the foot of the mountain.
One day while there he accidentally ate some food which had been
prepared for a fox, and soon after died. This brought out the Indian
spirit of revenge in Chocorua, so that he watched his opportunity, and
when the father was away, killed the wife and children. Cornelius
Campbell, the father, though a white man, was not a Christian, and the
same revengeful spirit took possession of him. Not long after, Chocorua,
while standing on the edge of a precipice, was shot by Campbell. He
lived only a few moments, uttering fearful curses against the white men.
He was never buried, but his bones were left to whiten on the rocks.</p>

<p>All Ned's talk tended to make the boys ready to start at every sound,
and Arthur inwardly began to wish he had not disregarded the warning
voice he had heard in the morning. Even the other boys felt a little
dismal; but they all forced out loud exclamations over the pleasure of
the day, and the moment after they had dropped on their bed of pine
boughs were all sound asleep.</p>

<p>The clouds which, unnoticed by the boys, had been forming behind the
hills, gathered heavily in a threatening mass over the mountain-peak,
the air trembled with peal after peal of rolling thunder, the sky was
brilliant with lightning flashes which sent gleams of intense and livid
light over the white cliffs. Still the boys slept on. The furious
storm-clouds gradually dropped lower and lower, until at last they burst
in one torrent of hail and rain. Every hollow was fast filling up, until
the one in which our boys were encamped became as it were the bed of a
pool, and the white canvas of their tent seemed like the tip of a sail
flapping in the wind.</p>

<p>One of those fearful claps of thunder which seem to shake the whole
earth, and which are heard only among the mountains, at last roused the
boys. In terrible alarm, they waded from their tattered tent, just in
time to see the tall tree near whose roots they had been sleeping hewn
into fragments by the glistening blade of the axe which the angry storm
was wielding. For a moment they gazed on each other with mute horror,
then, as with one voice, exclaimed, "Where's Ned?"</p>

<p>They wildly called "Ned! Ned! Ned Brown!" but there was no answer. They
groped back for him in the darkness, lighted only by the uncertain
flashes, which were growing less and less frequent; but the tent had
been swept away, and their fire wholly extinguished, so they had nothing
to guide them to the exact spot of their former encampment. For hours
they searched in vain. Drenched and chilled, weary and bruised, at
length, as day dawned, they found themselves in a dense forest, with no
path and no guide.</p>

<p>"What shall we do?" said Arthur. "Why did we come? I will never do what
I know to be wrong again."</p>

<p>"'No use to cry for spilled milk,'" said Dick, trying to speak
cheerfully, while his face contradicted his words.</p>

<p>"Let us get out of these woods and down this mountain if we possibly
can," said Arthur. "Then, if we don't find Ned, we can send some one up
for him who knows something about the way."</p>

<p>"All right," said Phil. "It don't look as if we should have anything to
eat till we do get down, and I'm 'most starved. Hark! What's that noise?
I do believe that's a bear's growl. He is coming nearer, surely."</p>

<p>"Pshaw! nonsense! it isn't a bear; it's only the rustling of the
leaves," said Dick.</p>

<p>But every little while some noise would cause them to fear that some
wild animal was on their track.</p>

<p>Several times they were stopped by a precipice so steep that no human
foot could descend it, and were obliged to retrace their course and seek
another less difficult way.</p>

<p>Just at dusk they reached a farm-house, where, as it was on the opposite
side of the mountain from their boarding place, they were obliged to
spend the night.</p>

<p>Oh, what a night it was! The heavy supper after the long fast made them
ill, and every limb was aching with pain and fatigue. Then the terrible
anxiety about Ned! What might he not be suffering alone on the mountain,
and what report could they give to his mother when they made their way
back to the boarding-house? Surely three boys were never more severely
punished for disobedience. Never again would Dick sing,</p>

<p>
<span style="margin-left: 19em;">"Hush-a-by, conscience, on the tree-top."</span><br />
</p>

<p>When morning came three miserable-looking objects<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_632" id="Page_632">[Pg 632]</a></span> dragged themselves up
to the gate of the old boarding-house. But who was that walking up and
down the piazza at such a troubled pace?</p>

<p>Nobody less than Ned, who was fretting himself half crazy waiting for
the party who had arranged to go in search of three lost boys. Ned had
been more fortunate than they, for after the wash-out, which had
separated him from his companions, he had happily strayed into the very
path which led home.</p>

<p>Presently Mrs. Hartshorn came out, but after one good look at the party
she apparently concluded that they needed no word of reproof from her.
Conscience had evidently preached every effective sermon, for which the
experience of the past thirty-six hours had supplied a powerful text.</p>

<hr class="chap" />
<h2><a name="THE_DAISY_TRAIL" id="THE_DAISY_TRAIL">THE DAISY TRAIL.</a></h2>

<p>
<span style="margin-left: 18em;">You'd think such a small boy would not know</span><br />
<span style="margin-left: 18em;">How to get back if he should go</span><br />
<span style="margin-left: 18em;">Without his mother so far away</span><br />
<span style="margin-left: 18em;">Beyond the garden fence to play.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="margin-left: 18em;">But he lays a trail of daisies white,</span><br />
<span style="margin-left: 18em;">That gleam in the grass like stars at night;</span><br />
<span style="margin-left: 18em;">So running home he can never stray,</span><br />
<span style="margin-left: 18em;">With the scattered daisies to show the way.</span><br />
</p>

<div class="figcenter" style="width: 206px;">
<img src="images/ill_006.jpg" width="206" height="400" alt="" />
</div>

<hr class="chap" />
<h2><a name="MILLIES_NILE-BIRD_HAT" id="MILLIES_NILE-BIRD_HAT">MILLIE'S NILE-BIRD HAT.</a></h2>

<h3>BY ARTHUR LINDSLEY.</h3>

<p>"Why, Millie, where did you get that bird-skin which you wear in your
hat?"</p>

<p>"I am sure I do not know, papa. But it is very seldom you take notice of
my hats, and I am very glad that for once I am wearing one which
interests you. Mamma bought the bird somewhere down town; I did not ask
her where. I think he is just lovely; don't you?" and off came Millie's
hat for the Professor's inspection. "Only see his breast, so bright that
it almost looks to be on fire, and just above it his throat as white as
a patch of snow! Isn't he perfectly splendid?"</p>

<p>Her father had taken the hat in his hand, and was examining the bird
with an expression of face that showed he was thinking of something more
than what was before him. He stood so long without speaking that Millie
broke out in her usual lively manner:</p>

<p>"Why, papa, I never saw you look at a girl's hat so closely before&mdash;mine
or any one's else. I have had handsomer hats than that, and you did not
say a word about them. The bird is very beautiful, I know, but what do
you see so wonderful in him?"</p>

<p>"I was wondering how he could come here, my child. You do not know where
your mother bought the skin, but do you know where the bird lives?"</p>

<p>"No, sir, not at all. I have no doubt you do, but I never thought of it.
Did you ever see them in their native country?"</p>

<p>"Yes, Millie, I have seen them often. The species is African; I saw them
very often in South Africa&mdash;once, I recollect, at Zanzibar, and on the
West Coast I have seen them in Senegambia and at the mouth of the
Gaboon. Shall I tell you where I first saw the bird?&mdash;for I can never
forget it, and the sight of this skin brought back that day to me so
forcibly, that for a moment I forgot where I was."</p>

<p>"Oh! do, papa, do. You know how I rejoice in the stories. What a
favorite hat this will be!"</p>

<p>"Let us go into the library, then, where I can show you an engraving
that I have. Please hand me the russet-leather portfolio from that lower
drawer. See, I have opened at once to the very one I wished to find. It
will give you an excellent idea of the two bright little kingfishers
that I saw that day on the west bank of the Nile."</p>

<p>"The Nile, papa! I wonder if mine came from the Nile? Only think of my
<i>Nile-bird hat</i>!"</p>

<p>"That I can not tell, Millie. But before I go on with my story it is
well that you should know something about the family of birds to which
this one belongs, for he has many relatives, and they are scattered in
almost all countries, and one at least of them has been famous among
poets for two thousand years. Did you ever hear or see the expression
used of <i>halcyon days</i>, meaning days of great prosperity and happiness?"</p>

<p>"Yes, sir, I recollect it was in one of the pieces of poetry we read
only last week in school, and I wondered at the time what it meant, and
I intended to ask you."</p>

<div class="figcenter" style="width: 432px;">
<img src="images/ill_007.jpg" width="432" height="600" alt="" />
<span class="caption">AFRICAN KINGFISHERS.</span>
</div>

<p>"I will tell you. This little bird of the drawing and of your hat is a
kingfisher, and the kingfishers are found, as I explained, in almost all
parts of the world. We have one species, not at all uncommon, throughout
the United States, which is known in the books as the belted kingfisher.
Our little African here, you see, is not larger than a sparrow, but his
belted brother is almost as large as a common pigeon, and well do I
recollect what a time a lot of us had, when I was a boy about twelve
years old, in trying to get at the nest of a pair of them. Kingfishers
the world over build their nests in deep burrows which they make in
river-banks and similar places. Eight of us gathered one Saturday, with<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_633" id="Page_633">[Pg 633]</a></span>
Tom Perkins&mdash;a stout boy of fifteen&mdash;for a sort of Captain, and Charlie
Mason for Lieutenant. We worked all that day, and then nearly until
night, of the following Saturday, before we found the end of the burrow.
Tom said he really thought we should dig across Deacon Moseley's farm
and out into Widow Whitman's pasture lot. It was sixteen feet and a half
that the birds had burrowed into a very hard bank of clay.</p>

<p>"This was our American species, whose name is <i>Ceryle alcyon</i>; but all
about the shores of the Mediterranean a similar smaller species is found
which by the old Latins was called Alcyon or Halcyon, though in
ornithological works, now it is named <i>Alcedo hispida</i>. Most absurd
stories have always been told concerning it. It was said to have the
power of preventing storms, of keeping the sea perfectly quiet, so that
while the female was sitting on her eggs the weather was always calm and
peaceful, and you see readily how the word <i>halcyon</i> came therefore to
have in poetry the meaning to which I have referred. Of course this was
all foolishness, but it was only one of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_634" id="Page_634">[Pg 634]</a></span> many tales which have been told
about that very bird, and some of which I have no doubt are believed by
ignorant people to this day."</p>

<p>"Is he a handsome bird, papa, like this one in my hat?"</p>

<p>"Oh no; on the contrary, he is of quite plain plumage. You must not
fancy that our species or the European possess any such brightness of
color. Now look at the picture again. You see both the male and the
female. Notice, by-the-way, that they are sitting near the mouth of
their burrow. Look at those long crest feathers. They are shining blue,
almost like the sky, with light ashy green spots, while the jet-black
ones fairly sparkle on their blue background. And then his blazing red
lower surface, with his white throat and that enormous bill of bright
vermilion, makes such an assemblage of brilliant color as you seldom
see."</p>

<p>"Let me get the map, papa, and then please show me just where you found
my little bird."</p>

<p>"That is right, Millie; you will be more interested the more definitely
you fix the knowledge. How well I remember that day. It seems as though
it had been but yesterday. Among all the rivers of the world, there is
not one which can be compared with the Nile. It does not seem like any
other water. There's a sort of magic about it. All the time that I spent
there I felt myself living in dreamland rather than in anything that
belonged to this life and this world. It is not the river itself, for I
have seen a number of much finer and grander streams of water in other
countries. The Danube or the Ganges can either of them surpass it, while
here in America I could select half a dozen which are more than its
rivals. But any one of them I always felt that I could understand. They
were beautiful, they were grand, with charming banks and forests and
fields and cities, but there was nothing <i>strange</i> about them. They
seemed like other parts of the world. But the Nile is not like them; it
never looked to me like a reality. Everything about it was so mixed with
mystery that if I had waked any morning and found that there was no Nile
to be seen where I saw it the night before, I should have thought it was
all right.</p>

<p>"All around me were monuments and temples and houses so old that those
who built them had died and been forgotten hundreds and perhaps
thousands of years before the earliest history of which we have any
knowledge commenced. Who were those people? I could tell how they
looked, for there were their figures and faces carved on the stones,
but&mdash;who were they? Where did they come from? Negroes, Asiatics,
Egyptians, such as were about me every day; there they were carved, and
sometimes painted, on the ruins, and I used to wander around and wonder,
and dream, and wonder, and it was in the midst of just such wondering as
that that a little kingfisher flashed upon me, and it is not strange
that I remember him. Do you see the First Cataract, Millie, on the
river?"</p>

<p>"Yes, here it is. P-h-i-l-a-e, Philæ; is that it?"</p>

<p>"That is the name of an island there with some extremely beautiful ruins
upon it. Few travellers ascend the river further; they stop there and
return; but I did not; I continued on to the south a long distance. One
day, just before I reached the Second Cataract, I had stopped on the
west bank of the river to rest my men for an hour or two. It was a
burning hot afternoon, perfectly calm, with the sun blazing down on the
white sand of the desert and on the glass-like water of the river, until
it was enough to almost fry one's brain. Three or four palm-trees grew
at this point, and it was their shade which had induced me to stop; but
I found to my great delight that what was probably a temple had formerly
stood there, and some of the fragments still remained. One of these
fragments represented a human figure seated. The head was gone, and one
arm; the other arm was perfect, with the hand lying on the knee, and I
began to make a drawing of the whole.</p>

<p>"Just as in my drawing I reached the hand, and was sketching its shape
on the paper, a little blue and red bird passed me, with a cry somewhat
like the one you may hear any morning from our American species, and
swinging up he perched himself on the very hand which I was drawing at
the moment. It was a lovely little kingfisher. He sat there but a
moment, and then darted to a hole in the river-bank, which he entered,
and which I knew must contain his nest. It was such a burrow as our
American species makes, and forthwith came back to my mind the time when
I was a boy, and when Tom and Charlie and the rest of us worked so hard
at digging toward Deacon Moseley's lot.</p>

<p>"I watched till the little fellow came out. Then he flew away, and I
soon lost sight of him. His name is <i>Corythornis cyanostigma</i>, and the
sight of another here in your hat carried me away so completely that for
the moment I almost fancied I was on the Nile again, the association was
so powerful."</p>

<p>"Well, papa, I am very glad of it. I will wear him only a day or two,
and then I will take him out and give him to you, and get mamma to put
something else in his place. You may be sure I shall never forget my
Nile-bird hat. But did you not say that there are kingfishers found in
other countries? I suppose they must be like this, even if they are not
so beautiful."</p>

<p>"Yes, there are; and I must tell you of one most remarkable species,
Millie&mdash;remarkable for his voice, though not for any beauty of color. We
will call him <i>Dacelo gigas</i>&mdash;gigas meaning very large, for he is a
great clumsy bird. He lives in Australia. The first night I ever spent
there 'in the bush'&mdash;which means out in the wild country&mdash;I was waked
just before daylight by a most outrageous racket in the thicket close to
me. I started up in some fright, and roused a man near me. 'Oh, go to
sleep; that is nothing but a jackass.' But as we were where a donkey
would not be likely to come, I could not tell what to make of it, and I
did not go to sleep, and by-and-by I heard him again and again, but my
comrades paid no attention to the sound, and so I said nothing further.</p>

<p>"After breakfast I took my gun, and started out to look for birds. Among
others I shot a great coarse-looking kingfisher, larger than a crow; and
when I returned to camp, the man whom I had roused in the morning
remarked, as I laid out my game: 'There, you have got him. That is the
very fellow that you heard this morning. We always call him the laughing
jackass.' And often after that I heard their harsh cry, like laughing
and braying together."</p>

<hr class="chap" />
<h2><a name="MAX_RANDERS_WILD_TIGER" id="MAX_RANDERS_WILD_TIGER">MAX RANDER'S WILD TIGER.</a></h2>

<h3>BY MATTHEW WHITE, JUN.</h3>

<p>I didn't like that little French village. Thad and I were at our wits'
end to find some way to amuse ourselves. There wasn't any river to row
on, nor any hills to climb, and not a single person we could talk to out
of the family.</p>

<p>Then you sort of felt as if you were a lunatic in an asylum; for instead
of fences, every house had a high stone wall around it; that is, every
house except the one where we boarded, which was surrounded by an iron
railing, with the bars just far enough apart to make it look like a cage
in a menagerie. At least this is what Thad said it reminded him of, and
sometimes I used to see him tearing up and down behind it, playing he
was an African lion. I didn't tell him it was silly, because once in a
while I turned panther myself. It was an awfully poky town.</p>

<p>About three times every day Thad and I used to beg father to go
somewhere else, but he always said, "Have patience, boys." I wonder if
anybody ever counted the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_635" id="Page_635">[Pg 635]</a></span> number of times fathers and mothers say, "Have
patience"? If it's as tiresome to say as it is to listen to, I feel
sorry for them.</p>

<p>Well, one morning when they both were out driving, and the landlady had
gone to market, and there was nobody at home but the French cook and us
boys, I was that sorry for Thad, not to mention how awfully dull I was
myself, that I felt I must do something. So I called Thad down-stairs,
and told him I'd invent a new play for him.</p>

<p>"We can use the fence just the same for a cage," I explained, "and
you're to be a tiger a keeper's trying to tame. I'll be the keeper, and
at first you must snap at me through the bars; but I'll look you
straight in the eye all the time (that's the way keepers do), and then
all of a sudden I'll open the door, rush into the cage, and you'll be
tamed."</p>

<p>Thad said that would be fun, and then I got father's cane, and we both
went out into the front yard. Hardly anybody ever walked on that street,
so I wasn't afraid of being interrupted.</p>

<p>I went outside, shutting the gate behind me, and Thad having curled
himself up close to the railing, pretending to be asleep, I began
operations by poking him with my stick.</p>

<p>At first he only gave a low growl (I wasn't sure whether tigers growled
or howled, but I told him a growl would do); but when the cane slipped
and tickled him under the arm, he jumped up, and neither growled nor
howled, but screamed, until I was obliged to remind him that he wasn't a
wild-cat.</p>

<p>"But tickling's no fair," he cried, still squirming a little.</p>

<p>"All right," I answered, beginning my taming operations, and keeping my
eye on him in a way that I think really began to frighten him.</p>

<p>Then he started racing up and down inside the fence, I after him on the
outside, until we were both quite out of breath, and then he stood
still, and snapped at me between the bars.</p>

<p>We were right by the gate, and while he had his head out, pretending to
gnaw my stick, I suddenly let go of it, and slipping through the
gateway, rushed up behind him before you could say "Jack Robinson."</p>

<p>"Now you must turn around, and we'll look at each other for a minute,
and then you'll give in," I cried, making believe crowd into a corner of
the cage.</p>

<p>"But I can't turn round," exclaimed Thad. "I can't get my head out."</p>

<p>"Why, how did you get it in, then?" I replied, stepping up to examine
into matters. "Twist it the other way."</p>

<p>Thad thereupon obediently gave a fresh tug, but all in vain; his head
remained stuck between the bars like a cow's in the patent stalls.</p>

<p>I was scared then, and never thinking about tigers, took him by the
neck, and tried my best to get him free; but I couldn't. Then he set up
a very unbeastlike yell, which brought the French cook out of the house,
with a bunch of garlic in her hand.</p>

<p>When she saw what had happened, she screamed louder than Thad. The noise
they both made together was something frightful, while I ran first one
side of the fence, then the other, wondering dismally if we'd have to
live in that town always because Thad couldn't get his head out.</p>

<p>If we'd had any neighbors except a deaf old man, a woman who never left
her bed, and two young men who went to work three miles away, I suppose
we'd soon have had a crowd around us, but as it was, nobody appeared but
a little girl with a hunk of bread, the sight of which caused Thad to
stop hollowing, and declare that we must bring him something to eat.</p>

<p>When I had opened and shut my mouth several times, pointing my finger
down it and then at Thad, the cook comprehended what was wanted, and
rushing outside of the fence, put that bunch of garlic right under my
brother's nose.</p>

<p>"Pah!" he exclaimed, and wrenched his head back so suddenly that I half
expected to see both his ears drop off.</p>

<p>"Oh dear," I groaned, "if he can't free himself with such a jerk as that
we can never get him out at all."</p>

<p>Then recollecting that Thad hated the smell of garlic as much as I did,
and seeing that the cook was still trying to feed him with it, I
motioned sternly toward the house, and ordered her to "departez," which
wasn't hard to say, as you just take an English word and put a little
French end to it.</p>

<p>She understood me at once, and seemed to feel quite insulted, for she
walked straight back to the kitchen, slamming the gate after her.</p>

<p>The next minute somebody slapped me on the shoulder, and turning, I
jumped as if I had seen a ghost, for it was Thad, and I was at least
five feet from the fence. You see, when the gate was open the space
between those two particular bars was a little smaller than when it was
shut. Thad and I might have remained in that pickle for any length of
time, he screaming at the top of his voice, and I dancing around him in
agony. Who knows how long it would have taken us to find out that all we
had to do was to shut the gate, if that woman hadn't got mad and given
it such an awful slam?</p>

<hr class="chap" />
<h2><a name="RUSTIC_ADORNMENTS_FOR_LAWN_AND_GARDEN" id="RUSTIC_ADORNMENTS_FOR_LAWN_AND_GARDEN">RUSTIC ADORNMENTS FOR LAWN AND GARDEN.</a></h2>

<h3>BY A.&nbsp;W. ROBERTS.</h3>

<p>Small fingers always want to be kept busy. No matter how warm the
weather is, they can not lie comfortably quiet, but must be doing
something. Why not try a little rustic-work, setting up a good-natured
rivalry with florists and landscape gardeners? It will require the boys
and girls both&mdash;the boys to do the heavy work, and the girls to supply
the grace and minor ornamentation.</p>

<p>Rustic-work is a term that by general consent is now applied to all
structures of wood the forms and surfaces of which are left in their
natural shape, or covered with material such as bark, cones, fungi, etc.</p>

<div class="figright" style="width: 295px;">
<img src="images/ill_008.jpg" width="295" height="300" alt="" />
<span class="caption"><span class="smcap">Fig</span>. 1.</span>
</div>

<p>Fig. 1 is an excellent example of nature's rustic-work. How kindly the
golden-rod, blackberry, Virginia creeper, and ferns have ranged
themselves about the old stump to increase the picturesque beauty of its
decay!</p>

<p>Now imagine this stump transplanted to a lawn or garden with its wealth
of wild plants and shrubs, while in strong contrast to these are planted
in the hollow of the stump a variegated mass of drooping vines, and the
most beautifully marked and colored of the so-called "foliage" plants.
Truly no imported and expensive <i>jardinet</i> (small garden) of highest
artistic workmanship was ever made that could compare with this of
nature's wild and cultivated beauty.</p>

<p>There are thousands and thousands of just such stumps that with a little
care and trouble might easily be converted into beautiful lawn and
garden adornments.</p>

<p>When digging out such a stump, the ground must be well excavated from
about and under the main roots, which are sawn (not chopped) off about
one foot below the surface of the ground. In replanting the stump, try
to imitate all the natural features of the ground surrounding it, even
to rocks and toad-stools. The latter are not poisonous unless eaten, and
are very picturesque.</p>

<p>The best soil for filling in the spaces about the roots and the bottom
of the stump is the black and rich "vegetable mould" found in all old
woods. Next to this comes peat,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_636" id="Page_636">[Pg 636]</a></span> which can be obtained from dried-up
ponds and ditches, only care must be taken to crush it fine, and mix
with it about one-third of ordinary garden soil; otherwise it will be
apt to cake after rains.</p>

<p>When setting up a stump <i>jardinet</i> it is the easiest thing in the world
to establish at the same time a small menagerie. Tree-toads, common
garden-toads, all varieties of land-snails, field-mice, chipmunks, can
be induced to make their homes in and about your stump if they are well
treated and cared for.</p>

<div class="figleft" style="width: 300px;">
<img src="images/ill_009.jpg" width="300" height="268" alt="" />
<span class="caption"><span class="smcap">Fig</span>. 2.</span>
</div>

<p>To set up a successful stump menagerie, little nooks must be formed
under the roots by means of stones so placed together as to leave open
spaces of various sizes. These must connect with one another, as shown
in Fig. 2. When covered with earth, these chambers are entered by means
of runs which connect with the under-ground chambers. All creatures that
set up a home in these chambers will have a good time if you do not dig
them out every other day, "just to see, you know, how they are getting
along."</p>

<p>But now let us imagine that no such rotted-out and picturesque stump is
to be obtained. There is still quite an easy way to make a <i>jardinet</i>.</p>

<div class="figright" style="width: 200px;">
<img src="images/ill_010.jpg" width="200" height="200" alt="" />
<span class="caption"><span class="smcap">Fig</span>. 3.</span>
</div>

<p>First obtain from a grocer a half butter-keg, which will cost about
twenty cents. Wash it out thoroughly with hot water to cleanse it of all
salt, that might prove injurious to growing plants. In the bottom bore a
number of small holes, and place a layer of broken flower-pots or pieces
of charcoal two inches in depth. The holes are for the purpose of
draining off all surplus water. The layer of charcoal is to prevent the
soil at the bottom of the tub from being carried away through the
draining holes. If these precautions are not taken, the earth in the tub
will "sour," and the roots of the plants will rot. Next obtain a log of
wood of rough exterior, and also some rough bark. The tub must be
fastened to the top of the log, as shown in Fig. 3, and the latter
firmly planted in the desired spot. The bark must be nailed to the tub
so as to join and match the bark on the stump.</p>

<div class="figleft" style="width: 273px;">
<img src="images/ill_011.jpg" width="273" height="300" alt="" />
<span class="caption"><span class="smcap">Fig</span>. 4.</span>
</div>

<p>On dead and decaying white-birch-trees many kinds of fungi are to be
obtained, and at the bases of very old trees many varieties of lichens.
These, when fastened to the <i>jardinet</i> as shown in Fig. 4, produce a
very natural and picturesque effect. About the base of the <i>jardinet</i>
rude-shaped stones are piled up. The spaces of earth between the rocks
are dug out to the depth of from one-half to three-quarters of a foot.
These are technically known as "pockets," and are for the reception of
vegetable mould. The rookery is now in condition for planting with
cultivated and wild ferns, and also low-growing varieties of plants. The
tub is also filled with mould, and planted with "foliage" plants and
vines.</p>

<div class="figright" style="width: 296px;">
<img src="images/ill_012.jpg" width="296" height="400" alt="" />
<span class="caption"><span class="smcap">Fig</span>. 5.</span>
</div>

<p>Fig. 5 is a <i>jardinet</i>, vinery, and fernery combined. The upright post
is of red cedar or locust, with the bark on. A square piece of board two
inches in thickness is nailed on top of the post, and on this is placed
a half butter-tub, on which pointed slats half an inch thick and two
inches wide are nailed. These slats are painted green, and a light and
graceful trimming of rustic vinery is tacked on near the top and bottom
of the slat-work. Instead of slats, straight rustic branches split in
half and pointed at both ends can be used.</p>

<p>The branch-work consists of a circle of branches of drooping habit, the
ends or stocks of which are both nailed and bound with wire or stout
twine, so as to support the weight of vines when they reach it from the
tub above and the trellis below. The twine-work for the vines consists
of gray or green twine. There is a twine sold by florists by the name of
"invisible twine," which is of a light green color, and is used for
training vines; this is far superior to the white cotton cord generally
used, which always looks cheap and inartistic, and in course of time
frays out and breaks. But this cheap cord can be made very durable and
pleasing in color by running it through hot yellow bees-wax in which has
been mixed any of the cheap chrome greens.</p>

<p>A small wooden hoop is securely fastened to the bottom of the post close
to the ground by means of four wooden hooks; to this hoop the lower ends
of the twine are securely fastened; the upper ends are tied to the
branch-work, which helps to retain them in a drooping position. To
obtain the best results and light and graceful effects, always plant
Madeira or cypress vines; avoid the fancy gourds and other heavy
climbers, as they are apt to break down the twine-work during heavy
storms. At the base of the structure a heavy rockery is massed,
containing numerous pockets. In these, ferns and the English ivy and the
so-called German ivy are planted.</p>

<p>All rustic-work should present the appearance of solidity and
durability, and must be strongly put together. Never use in any way
marine forms or material in conjunction with rustic-work or rockery.
They are entirely out of keeping and harmony with nature, and indicate a
great want of taste. Nothing can exceed the ugliness of a bordering of
clam or oyster shells, or Florida conch shells; they are worse than
calcimined or white-washed rocks.</p>

<hr class="chap" />

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_637" id="Page_637">[Pg 637]</a></span></p>

<h2><a name="JAPANESE_FAN_TALES" id="JAPANESE_FAN_TALES">JAPANESE FAN TALES.</a></h2>

<h3>BY KIRK MUNROE.</h3>

<div class="figcenter" style="width: 389px;">
<img src="images/ill_013.jpg" width="389" height="400" alt="" />
</div>

<p>
<span style="margin-left: 18em;">A bright little Jap is Tommi Taroo,</span><br />
<span style="margin-left: 18em;">And he swings on a piece of round bamboo;</span><br />
<span style="margin-left: 18em;">For round bamboo is the very best thing</span><br />
<span style="margin-left: 18em;">That a boy can use as a seat for a swing.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="margin-left: 18em;">He lives in the town of Hiogo&mdash;</span><br />
<span style="margin-left: 18em;">A very nice place to live, you know,</span><br />
<span style="margin-left: 18em;">Because it's such fun to go to Kobé,</span><br />
<span style="margin-left: 18em;">The city of strangers, just over the way:</span><br />
<br />
<span style="margin-left: 18em;">A city of Yankees and English too&mdash;</span><br />
<span style="margin-left: 18em;">Comical fellows to Tommi Taroo&mdash;</span><br />
<span style="margin-left: 18em;">French and Dutch and Portuguese,</span><br />
<span style="margin-left: 18em;">And many another from over the seas.</span><br />
</p>

<hr class="tb" />

<div class="figcenter" style="width: 388px;">
<img src="images/ill_014.jpg" width="388" height="400" alt="" />
</div>

<p>
<span style="margin-left: 18em;">Fish-day, fish-day in Hizen;</span><br />
<span style="margin-left: 18em;">Fish for the women, but not for the men;</span><br />
<span style="margin-left: 18em;">Fish for the girls, but not for the boys.</span><br />
<span style="margin-left: 18em;">To-day only women know fishermen's joys.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="margin-left: 18em;">And all on account of Queen Jungu,</span><br />
<span style="margin-left: 18em;">Who once caught a fish as fishermen do;</span><br />
<span style="margin-left: 18em;">The fish said, "Go and conquer Corea,"</span><br />
<span style="margin-left: 18em;">And this she did within a year.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="margin-left: 18em;">And that is the reason the girls to-day</span><br />
<span style="margin-left: 18em;">Are all out fishing, instead of at play;</span><br />
<span style="margin-left: 18em;">And I think the fish they show to you</span><br />
<span style="margin-left: 18em;">Is as fine as that of Queen Jungu.</span><br />
</p>

<hr class="tb" />

<div class="figcenter" style="width: 400px;">
<img src="images/ill_015.jpg" width="400" height="344" alt="" />
</div>

<p>
<span style="margin-left: 11em;">Lu-wen lived in Hakodadi;</span><br />
<span style="margin-left: 11em;">Lu-wen was a little laddie.</span><br />
<span style="margin-left: 11em;">Lu-wen's head was nicely shaved.</span><br />
<span style="margin-left: 11em;">He was very well behaved.</span><br />
<span style="margin-left: 11em;">Suzume was Lu-wen's mother;</span><br />
<span style="margin-left: 11em;">Nakamura was his brother.</span><br />
<span style="margin-left: 11em;">Very fine was Nakamura,</span><br />
<span style="margin-left: 11em;">And his dress was silk of Surah.</span><br />
<span style="margin-left: 11em;">His umbrella and his fan</span><br />
<span style="margin-left: 11em;">Were the largest in Japan.</span><br />
<span style="margin-left: 11em;">Once he gave them to Lu-wen,</span><br />
<span style="margin-left: 11em;">But bade him bring them back again.</span><br />
<span style="margin-left: 11em;">This Lu-wen was glad to do</span><br />
<span style="margin-left: 11em;">When he'd gone a block or two;</span><br />
<span style="margin-left: 11em;">For people left their tea and soy</span><br />
<span style="margin-left: 11em;">To stare at him, and call out, "Halloo, big umbrella! where are you going with that little boy?"</span><br />
</p>

<hr class="tb" />

<div class="figcenter" style="width: 500px;">
<img src="images/ill_016.jpg" width="500" height="276" alt="" />
</div>

<p>
<span style="margin-left: 19em;">Three little Satsumas and old Satsuma,</span><br />
<span style="margin-left: 20em;">Or four Satsumas in all,</span><br />
<span style="margin-left: 19em;">Laid aside their tasks, and put on their masks</span><br />
<span style="margin-left: 20em;">For a grand Matsuri ball.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="margin-left: 19em;">They howled and growled, and acted like</span><br />
<span style="margin-left: 20em;">Wild animals born and bred.</span><br />
<span style="margin-left: 19em;">To make an impression they formed a procession,</span><br />
<span style="margin-left: 20em;">With old Satsuma ahead.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="margin-left: 19em;">Just then the clown, of all the town</span><br />
<span style="margin-left: 20em;">The funniest man to be found,</span><br />
<span style="margin-left: 19em;">Jumped on to the back of the first of the pack,</span><br />
<span style="margin-left: 20em;">And merrily rode him around.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="margin-left: 19em;">Now, when he begun, they thought it was fun,</span><br />
<span style="margin-left: 20em;">And acted as though they'd gone mad,</span><br />
<span style="margin-left: 19em;">Until old Satsuma, in very bad humor,</span><br />
<span style="margin-left: 20em;">Said, "Enough of this thing we have had."</span><br />
</p>

<hr class="tb" />

<div class="figcenter" style="width: 232px;">
<img src="images/ill_017.jpg" width="232" height="500" alt="" />
</div>

<p>
<span style="margin-left: 19em;">Eight little girls of Japan,</span><br />
<span style="margin-left: 19em;">All running as fast as they can</span><br />
<span style="margin-left: 20em;">For fear she'll be late,</span><br />
<span style="margin-left: 20em;">Each one of the eight</span><br />
<span style="margin-left: 19em;">Is running as fast as she can.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="margin-left: 19em;">Did you ever see children so fat?</span><br />
<span style="margin-left: 19em;">In Japan, though, they say, "What of that?"</span><br />
<span style="margin-left: 20em;">To be fat is a duty;</span><br />
<span style="margin-left: 20em;">It adds to your beauty.</span><br />
<span style="margin-left: 19em;">And that is the reason they're fat.</span><br />
</p>

<hr class="chap" />

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_638" id="Page_638">[Pg 638]</a></span></p>

<div class="figcenter" style="width: 243px;"><a name="NOT_QUITE_SATISFIED" id="NOT_QUITE_SATISFIED"></a>
<img src="images/ill_018.jpg" width="243" height="400" alt="" />
</div>

<h2>NOT QUITE SATISFIED.</h2>

<p>
<span style="margin-left: 19em;">This dear little Mabel,</span><br />
<span style="margin-left: 19em;">She isn't quite able</span><br />
<span style="margin-left: 20em;">To say what it is has gone wrong;</span><br />
<span style="margin-left: 19em;">But she looks in the glass.</span><br />
<span style="margin-left: 19em;">And the shadow-frowns pass</span><br />
<span style="margin-left: 20em;">O'er a face that is sweet as a song.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="margin-left: 19em;">She is thinking of Lizzie,</span><br />
<span style="margin-left: 19em;">Whose hair is so frizzy.</span><br />
<span style="margin-left: 20em;">She wishes her own could be cut;</span><br />
<span style="margin-left: 19em;">But papa, only said</span><br />
<span style="margin-left: 19em;">When she showed him her head,</span><br />
<span style="margin-left: 20em;">"What, spoil it, my darling?&mdash;tut! tut!"</span><br />
</p>

<hr class="chap" />
<h2><a name="OUR_POST-OFFICE_BOX" id="OUR_POST-OFFICE_BOX">OUR POST-OFFICE BOX.</a></h2>

<p>The other day, as the Postmistress was driving down a pretty rural road,
she came upon a farm-house which stood all alone. It was late in the
afternoon, and there was nobody stirring about the place; doors and
windows were closed; the dog was asleep beside his kennel; the gray cat,
with two kittens cuddling close to her, was taking a nap on the mat by
the front door; and it was as quiet as could be all around, until&mdash;peep!
peep! cluck! cluck!&mdash;there came suddenly in view the prettiest brood of
chicks in the world; thirteen of them, dears, and every one as white as
swan's-down. The little snowy puff-balls were taking an airing with
their sober cream-colored mamma, and the Postmistress will not soon
forget how cunning Mrs. Hen and her family looked. Pray, Daisy and
Mattie, Freddy and Guy, have you a dainty brood of chicks at your house?
And why haven't you sent the Postmistress word about them?</p>

<hr class="tb" />

<p>
<span style="margin-left: 34em;"><span class="smcap">Danby Four Corners, Vermont</span>.</span><br />
</p>

<blockquote>

<p>I am a little boy nine years old, and will be ten the 9th of
August. I have a calf and a canary-bird and a little kitten. I go
to school almost every day. I have an auntie who sends me the money
to buy <span class="smcap">Harper's Young People</span>. I hope she will send money every
year. My grandma sends me a little pin-money every month. I have
over fifty dollars in the bank. I have no father, and my mamma is
poor. I can't think of any more to write this time.</p></blockquote>

<p>
<span style="margin-left: 34em;"><span class="smcap">Robert</span>.</span><br />
</p>

<p>When you are a man, as you will be one of these days, you will be able
to work for your dear mamma. She is not very poor if she has a good and
loving son ten years old. I am glad to hear that you do not spend for
toys and candies all the money grandma sends you, but save some of it
for future use.</p>

<hr class="tb" />

<p>
<span style="margin-left: 34em;"><span class="smcap">Rockport, Massachusetts</span>.</span><br />
</p>

<blockquote>

<p>As I have never seen a letter in Our Post-office Box from Rockport,
I thought I would write one to tell you how much I enjoyed reading
"Toby Tyler," and how much I like "Mr. Stubbs's Brother." I have a
dear little baby sister nearly eight months old. Her name is
Mattie. We think she is the prettiest baby in the world. Mamma says
that every one thinks the same of their baby, so I suppose all are
satisfied. I am twelve years old, and go to the Grammar School. My
studies are arithmetic, reading, spelling, history, grammar, and
geography. I take music lessons twice a week. My sister and I are
much interested now in reading the works of C.&nbsp;C. Coffin. I like
<i>The Story of Liberty</i>, <i>Old Times in the Colonies</i>, <i>Boys of '76</i>,
and <i>Winning his Way</i> the best.</p></blockquote>

<p>
<span style="margin-left: 34em;"><span class="smcap">Annie L.&nbsp;B</span>.</span><br />
</p>

<p>You could not read better books, dear, than those you mention. <i>Boys of
'76</i>, in particular, should be in the library of every American child.</p>

<hr class="tb" />

<p>
<span style="margin-left: 34em;"><span class="smcap">Sullivan, Indiana</span>.</span><br />
</p>

<blockquote>

<p>I am a little girl ten years old. I have a Maltese cat; its name is
Mallie. I have three chickens. One of them is a bantie. My sister
Libbie gave it to me. Its name is Chickie, and the other two are
Dick and Topie. My papa gave me <span class="smcap">Harper's Young People</span> for a
Christmas present. My sister Effie took it two years, and now I am
taking it. I wrote a letter once before, and it was not published.
Oh, I hope this one will not be put in a pigeon-hole! We have a
pea-fowl. We call him Sancho, because he speaks the word so
plainly, and mamma thinks he tries to be like Sancho Panza. I am
taking music-lessons, and learning to ride on horseback, and when
papa leaves the old gentle horse at home we go out riding. I have
two sisters and one brother. I signed the red-ribbon pledge. I
think Jimmy Brown's stories are very nice.</p></blockquote>

<p>
<span style="margin-left: 34em;"><span class="smcap">Maggie A.&nbsp;C</span>.</span><br />
</p>

<hr class="tb" />

<p>
<span style="margin-left: 34em;"><span class="smcap">Cahto, California</span>.</span><br />
</p>

<blockquote>

<p>A little girl, a subscriber of <span class="smcap">Harper's Young People</span>, thinks all
the little girls should say something, to Mr. Harper to tell him
how pleased we are every week to receive our paper. I wish every
little girl could have as nice a time as I do, fishing for trout.
Away out here where we live is a creek that has fish in it. Brother
and I go fishing every Saturday, and I enjoy the sport very much.
Brother Ed cut down a tree which was one hundred and fifty feet
tall, and in the top of it was a rat's nest. We thought it strange
that a rat would go so high to build its nest. I brought the little
rats home, but they died.</p></blockquote>

<p>
<span style="margin-left: 34em;"><span class="smcap">Sophia R</span>. (aged seven.)</span><br />
</p>

<p>That was a very ambitious rat, little Sophie. It was just as well the
rat babies did not live; they would have been very troublesome pets. Do
you ever forget to come home to dinner when you are waiting for the
trout to bite? That is what a little friend of mine does sometimes.</p>

<hr class="tb" />

<p>
<span style="margin-left: 34em;"><span class="smcap">Montclair, New Jersey</span>.</span><br />
</p>

<blockquote>

<p>I want to tell you about my pets. In the first place, we have two
canaries; mine is Dick, and Dandy belongs to my brother Willie.
Dicky was bought for me, but Dandy came to us. One Sunday morning
papa was reading, and Dicky hung on the piazza. We suddenly heard
<i>two</i> canaries singing, and looking to see what was the matter, we
saw a strange bird eating Dick's seed. He was willing to be caught,
and papa gave him to Willie. Dick and he sing together a great deal
now. Dick was once carried down into the cellar in the mouth of
Henry, our cat, who laid him on the coal-bin, and was just
preparing to eat him when the girl came down and took him
up-stairs. We did have a mocking-bird too&mdash;his name was Jack&mdash;but
he died. A horrid cat came in one dark night and frightened poor
Jackie to death. Another pet is a dog, whom we call Chaucer. He is
five years of age, and we have had him since he was two weeks old.</p></blockquote>

<p>
<span style="margin-left: 34em;"><span class="smcap">Effie E.&nbsp;H</span>.</span><br />
</p>

<p>What a good thing the birdie was rescued in time from the clutch of
Madame Puss, who can not help being a hunter, as it is her nature.</p>

<hr class="tb" />

<p>
<span style="margin-left: 34em;"><span class="smcap">Pensacola, Florida</span>.</span><br />
</p>

<blockquote>

<p>I am a little boy nine years old. I like to read about Mr. Stubbs's
Brother, and I watch every week for <span class="smcap">Young People</span> to come. I have
two dear sisters. Mary, aged five, who is in Jacksonville with our
grandma, and Ethel, who is the sweetest and the prettiest baby in
the State. My papa is the principal of the High School here. I am
going to take lessons on the piano from my mamma this summer. It is
nice to walk down to our lovely bay, and see it full of ships from
all countries.</p></blockquote>

<p>
<span style="margin-left: 34em;"><span class="smcap">Alfred McC. W</span>.</span><br />
</p>

<hr class="tb" />

<p>
<span style="margin-left: 34em;"><span class="smcap">Indianapolis, Indiana</span>.</span><br />
</p>

<blockquote>

<p>Papa says if I want to be pretty sure to have my first letter
published in <span class="smcap">Young People</span>'s Post-office Box, I must write something
new and interesting. As I have read or had read to me by mamma all
the letters since <span class="smcap">Young People</span> started, and do not remember having
heard anything about railroads, I will tell you about them. Papa
works in a railroad office, and often takes me with him on trips
out on the road, and into the shops and yards, and has taught me
the difference between a journal and an axle, a truss-rod or
hog-chain and a stay-chain, and other parts of a car. I have seen
an engine in the shops all taken apart, the wheels all out from
under it, and all the bright Russia iron stripped off the boiler,
which left it a dull, rusty-looking piece of hollow iron, for they
take out the front end and flue sheets and flues, and you can see
clear through back to the fire-box, and all cold; so unlike an
engine when fired up and full of steam, coupled to a train, ready
to pull it out when the conductor says, "All aboard!" I would like
to tell you about a ride I took on an engine at night, but I am
afraid I have made my letter too long now. I am eight years old,
and mamma helped me to spell the hard words.</p></blockquote>

<p>
<span style="margin-left: 34em;"><span class="smcap">Re</span>.</span><br />
</p>

<p>Write again, little bright-eyed Re, and tell us about your ride. We
would like to hear from you.</p>

<hr class="tb" />

<p>
<span style="margin-left: 19em;">Little Johnny Jump-up,</span><br />
<span style="margin-left: 20em;">Under the trees,</span><br />
<span style="margin-left: 19em;">Laughing in the sunshine,</span><br />
<span style="margin-left: 20em;">Nodding to the breeze.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="margin-left: 19em;">Little Johnny Jump-up,</span><br />
<span style="margin-left: 20em;">Some folks call him Pansy;</span><br />
<span style="margin-left: 19em;">Johnny doesn't care a bit&mdash;</span><br />
<span style="margin-left: 20em;">Follow out your fancy.</span><br />
</p>

<hr class="tb" />

<p>
<span style="margin-left: 18em;">Poor little Daisy, with ruffles and tucks,</span><br />
<span style="margin-left: 19em;">Has to sit still, lest she spoil her fine dress.</span><br />
<span style="margin-left: 18em;">Dear little Rose, in a calico gown,</span><br />
<span style="margin-left: 18em;">And a checked gingham pinafore, plaided and brown,</span><br />
<span style="margin-left: 19em;">Is the happier girlie, I guess.</span><br />
</p>

<hr class="tb" />

<p>
<span style="margin-left: 19em;">"I can paint pictures," says sweet little Nell;</span><br />
<span style="margin-left: 19em;">"I study music," says darling Estelle;</span><br />
<span style="margin-left: 19em;">"I ride my pony," cries dear little Lou.</span><br />
<span style="margin-left: 19em;">Here's our wee Margie, and what can she do?</span><br />
<span style="margin-left: 19em;">Bless her, the good little sister at home:</span><br />
<span style="margin-left: 19em;">"I take care of baby and brother Jerome."</span><br />
</p>

<hr class="tb" />

<p>
<span style="margin-left: 21em;">When you think you are hungry.</span><br />
<span style="margin-left: 22em;">And are not quite sure,</span><br />
<span style="margin-left: 21em;">Then candy or cake, dears,</span><br />
<span style="margin-left: 22em;">The hunger will cure.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="margin-left: 21em;">But when you've been playing,</span><br />
<span style="margin-left: 22em;">We'll say by the brook,</span><br />
<span style="margin-left: 21em;">And fishing with pins, dears,</span><br />
<span style="margin-left: 22em;">Instead of a hook,</span><br />
<br />
<span style="margin-left: 21em;">Then good bread and butter,</span><br />
<span style="margin-left: 22em;">A generous slice;</span><br />
<span style="margin-left: 21em;">For boys and for girls, dears,</span><br />
<span style="margin-left: 22em;">There's nothing so nice.</span><br />
</p>

<hr class="tb" />

<p>
<span style="margin-left: 34em;"><span class="smcap">New Haven, Connecticut</span>.</span><br />
</p>

<blockquote>

<p>I am a little girl nine years old. I have a little pet kitten. The
mother and she played beautifully together, until two great dogs
came in the yard, and she ran to protect her kitten; but instead of
killing the kitten, they killed the mother. This is all I am going
to write to-day.</p></blockquote>

<p>
<span style="margin-left: 34em;"><span class="smcap">Nelly M.&nbsp;F</span>.</span><br />
</p>

<p>Indeed, dear Nelly, I am very sorry for the fate of your poor cat. Could
nobody save her from her enemies? She had the true mother spirit. Even a
timid bird will grow brave, and fight to defend its fledglings if they
are attacked.</p>

<hr class="tb" />

<p>
<span style="margin-left: 34em;"><span class="smcap">San Antonio, Texas</span>.</span><br />
</p>

<blockquote>

<p>We have a little farm three miles from San Antonio, and we borrow a
little donkey, or burro, as the Mexicans call it, to go out there;
and you would be amused to see us. Mamma bought us a saddle, and
the good old man who loans us the burro has a little dog-cart.
Sometimes we use the saddle, and sometimes the cart, and away we
go. It would remind you of Punchinello and his horse and black cat
on his way to Paris. When the little donkey concludes to go fast,
and when he wants to go slow, we are very much at his mercy, for he
does as he pleases. We go out to the farm, and swim, and hunt eggs
for papa, and gather wild flowers to bring mamma; and, dear
Postmistress, we caught three little mocking-birds, and have them
in a cage. We would send them to you if we could; and if we go to
New York, as we think we will, we will bring them to you. Mamma
told us we were very naughty indeed to take the little birdies, and
asked us how we would like to be kidnapped and carried from home.
Then we were very sorry we had taken them, and wanted to carry them
back; but she said it was too late then; that the poor mother had
probably gone away when she found her babies stolen. So we promised
mamma not to take a bird again, and we will keep our word, for when
we took them we did not think a mother bird would grieve as our
mamma would if we were stolen. The mocking-birds sing any song, and
if they hear any one play on the piano, they will whistle the same
tune; and one used to call like the little chickens, and papa
hunted everywhere, thinking some little chick had lost its mother,
when what should he see but a mocking-bird on the gate, making the
same noise a little chick does when its mother is out of sight!</p>

<p>Our farms look fine now; everywhere in Texas crops are good, and
the people rejoice in the hopes of a heavy cotton and corn crop. On
our little farm the tenant last year planted three acres of oats,
that he sold out there for ninety dollars, and this spring very
early the volunteer oats (as papa calls them) came up in place of
the ones planted last year, and the man sold them as they stood in
the ground for thirty-one dollars, and then, after they were cut,
he planted corn<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_639" id="Page_639">[Pg 639]</a></span> and pumpkins on the same land, and we now have a
fine crop. Mamma thinks it is a pity that more poor people do not
come here and farm. Sometimes she tells us of the poor in New York
and other cities, and we wish they were here in our warm climate,
where, if we are not very rich, we are not often so very poor. But
we are not satisfied here, as the doctors tell mamma this climate
is too warm for her, and as soon as she can she must go North to
live.</p>

<p>I must tell you about our two little brothers, Josie and Edward.
Mamma was very ill, and the doctor said all must be quiet; so she
asked Joe and Edward if they would go and board. The poor little
fellows' eyes filled with tears, and almost in the same breath they
said: "We don't want to go, mamma; but if doctor says it will make
you well, we will <i>try to go</i>. But, mamma, we will get <i>so hungry</i>
to see you!" Now wasn't that good for little six and four year old
boys? Mamma is almost well now, and we are so glad!</p>

<p>Dear Postmistress, you are tired out, and we will say
good-afternoon for the present.</p></blockquote>

<p>
<span style="margin-left: 34em;"><span class="smcap">George</span> and <span class="smcap">Sterling F</span>.</span><br />
</p>

<p>I am never tired of reading my children's letters, whether they are long
or short, and I remember that my San Antonio boys sent me a very nice
letter some time ago. I too am sorry that George and Sterling took the
poor birdies from the nest. I am sure they will never again rob a mother
bird of her brood. Boys do wrong from want of thought many a time, when
they mean to do right, if they would only stop and consider what they
are doing. Please do not bring the mocking-birds to me, little friends,
though I hope very much that you will come yourselves. The little birds
I take care of, although I do everything I can to keep them strong and
well, always die, and I have now decided that it is pleasanter to hear
about the pets my correspondents have than to be grieving over my own.
But accept my thanks for your kind intention.</p>

<hr class="tb" />

<p>
<span style="margin-left: 30em;"><span class="smcap">On the River, near Ashville, North Carolina</span>.</span><br />
</p>

<blockquote>

<p>On the top of the Black Dome, not very far from here, the high-bush
blackberry grows without any thorns. It is called the thornless
blackberry, and is wonderful. But as this Dome&mdash;Michell's Peak&mdash;is
the highest land this side of the Mississippi, the berries ripen a
month or two later than ours on the river. We gather them by great
basketfuls, juicy, lovely berries, that nearly spoil common ones. A
great gardener up here said he long ago bought some Lawtons at $1 a
plant, but soon pulled them up by the roots, they had so little
flavor. He was used to the mountain berries.</p>

<p>But there is one complaint, and it makes trouble. Some people pick
other's fruit just as if it was theirs, and the owners don't like
it. If everybody only knew the meaning of two little words, <i>mine</i>
and <i>thine</i>, there'd be peace, they say. One day, when we were
getting large blackberries at Jack's Patch, a famous place, a troop
of colored people climbed over the fence.</p>

<p>"Whose place is this?" asked the leader, coming up with a pair of
large buckets.</p>

<p>When we told him, he quickly took off his hat, and said, bowing
very humbly. "Can I have a <i>few</i> blackberries, missis?"</p>

<p>Behind him came a party of his people&mdash;some were children&mdash;bringing
empty tin cans and baskets of all sizes and queer shapes. When we
answered, "We are only boarders ourselves, and strangers," he
seemed pleased.</p>

<p>"Your pardon," he said; "I thought you was <i>owners</i> of the place,"
and he turned away with all speed into the high blackberry bushes,
where all the cans and baskets and buckets were filled to go to the
Ashville market.</p></blockquote>

<p>
<span style="margin-left: 34em;">S.&nbsp;G.</span><br />
</p>

<p>This little incident, sent us by a lady who reads Our Post-office Box,
will please the merry troops of Northern children who are going these
bright afternoons to gather blackberries. What fun it is to set off,
just after the mid-day dinner, with pails and baskets, to pick enough
ripe, luscious berries for tea! Some of you, perhaps, pick berries and
sell them to friends who wish to make blackberry jam, or who have no
children of their own to send on such delightful expeditions. But I am
sure you do not imitate the conduct of those poor people of whom S.&nbsp;G.
tells, who were so ready to take what did not belong to them.</p>

<hr class="tb" />

<p>We should be glad if G.&nbsp;F. Weller, who was successful with Wiggle 25,
and Ben Darrow, Warnie B. Purdy, Churchill Hungerford, and W.&nbsp;J.&nbsp;H., who
were successful with Wiggle 26, would each send us his or her address.</p>

<hr class="tb" />

<p>
<span style="margin-left: 34em;"><span class="smcap">Mount Vernon, Ohio</span>.</span><br />
</p>

<blockquote>

<p><span class="smcap">Dear Little Exchangers</span>,&mdash;I have been sick, and could not attend to
your letters. I have only answered four, but will reply to more,
and will return all contributions that I don't use. I did not
expect to hear from so many of you when I wrote for the exchange,
and can not supply you all, as I have over sixty letters, but I
will return all your cards in good order. I have taken <span class="smcap">Harper's
Young People</span> for four years. Every year I like it better. I hope
some of you will see this letter, if Mr. Harper is kind enough to
print it, and then you will know that I don't intend to cheat, for
I like all the children who take <span class="smcap">Young People</span>.</p></blockquote>

<p>
<span style="margin-left: 34em;"><span class="smcap">Carrie Stone</span>.</span><br />
</p>

<hr class="tb" />

<h4>C.&nbsp;Y.&nbsp;P.&nbsp;R.&nbsp;U.</h4>

<p><span class="smcap">How Pottery is Made</span>.&mdash;In looking over some old papers I came across this
essay, and thought it might interest the Postmistress:</p>

<blockquote>

<p>The various kinds of clay used in making pottery are found in
nearly all the countries of the globe. There is a particular kind
found at Amboy, New Jersey, of a grayish-white color, so caused by
the presence of iron.</p>

<p>The first process, after being taken from the ground, is kneading
it until it resembles bread in the sponge. After this process, it
is thrown upon a slab, where it is taken by a second workman, who
places it upon a circular board made to revolve by a wheel
underneath it, worked by a treadle.</p>

<p>The second process is the designing of articles, which requires a
great deal of skill and patience. After being turned, patted, and
hollowed out by the workman, the clay is ready for baking, after
sometimes being ornamented with figures cut in the pottery while
wet, and painted with blue or some other color.</p>

<p>The baking of pottery is very slow, and requires great care. The
articles to be baked are placed on several wire shelves, and when
the oven is full, the door is bricked up to make it air-tight.</p>

<p>Below this oven are two sets of arches; in the lower of which a
fire is made, which increases in heat gradually.</p>

<p>After twenty-four hours a second fire is made in the upper arches,
of still greater heat, which is kept up for twenty-four hours more.</p>

<p>At the end of fifty hours the door is partially removed, and the
ware taken out by means of long, slender sticks, and examined to
see if it is thoroughly done.</p>

<p>The glazing process was discovered by accident. A workman in a
pottery in Germany, some time in the Middle Ages, to spite his
employer, threw salt on some ware which was baking, but, to his
amazement, found a beautiful glaze on the pottery instead of the
ruin he had desired.</p></blockquote>

<p>
<span style="margin-left: 34em;">C.&nbsp;S.&nbsp;C., C.Y.</span><br />
</p>

<hr class="tb" />

<p>We would call the attention of the C.&nbsp;Y.&nbsp;P.&nbsp;R.&nbsp;U. this week to Mr. C.&nbsp;W.
Fisher's sketch of "The First Grenadier of France," and to "Millie's
Nile-Bird Hat," by Mr. Arthur Lindsley. Dr. Van Giesen's article on
"Advice to Boys" contains a number of suggestions that our readers will
do well to make themselves familiar with before setting out on
adventurous boating and bathing expeditions. Who will try and work out
Mr. A.&nbsp;W. Roberts's suggestions in regard to "Rustic Adornments for Lawn
and Garden"? If any of you do so, and are successful, the Postmistress
would be glad to have you write to her about it.</p>

<hr class="tb" />

<h4>YOUNG PEOPLE'S COT.</h4>

<p>Contributions received for Young People's Cot, in Holy Innocent's Ward,
St. Mary's Free Hospital for Children, 407 West Thirty-fourth Street:</p>

<blockquote>

<p>Amy L. Lamprey, 50c.; Arthur Day, Clive Day, Willie Boyle, Harry
Kellogg, Willie Kellogg, Louie Butler, and Mabel W., from Hartford,
Conn., $13; Children's Sunday-school offering in memory of a little
boy who was sick, H.&nbsp;H.&nbsp;H., G.&nbsp;H.&nbsp;McD., F.&nbsp;O.&nbsp;S., T.&nbsp;W.&nbsp;M., C.&nbsp;L.,
L.&nbsp;C.&nbsp;G., and C.&nbsp;A.&nbsp;W., Troy, N.&nbsp;Y., $8; Harry Johnston, Lausanne,
Switzerland, $10; total, $31.50; previously acknowledged, $1170.35;
grand total, July 15, $1201.85.</p></blockquote>

<p>
<span style="margin-left: 34em;"><span class="smcap">E. Augusta Fanshawe</span>, Treasurer, 43 New St.</span><br />
</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Children</span>: I want to ask you all, those of you who have never taken an
interest in Young People's Cot, and those of you who, by your earnings,
savings, and contributions, have already helped us, if you will not set
to work in earnest, and let us see how soon we can have our Cot endowed.
You know it will not be "our very own" until we can give three thousand
dollars to the hospital, and the money that we already have is waiting
in the savings-bank until we can collect the whole amount. During these
lovely summer days, when you are well and strong, and enjoying the
delights of the country, playing in the green fields, gathering flowers,
or off at the sea-shore watching the great waves as they roll in one
after the other, please think of the poor little sick children, and
think of the Cot, in which I hope every reader of <span class="smcap">Harper's Young People</span>
will have a share. We want that little Cot to be a resting-place for
many a poor sick child, where each one, in its turn, will have the best
of care and attention from the kind sisters and doctors, and be sent
home quite well and happy. It is just about a year since you first heard
of Young People's Cot. We have done very well in the past year, but let
us try and do even better in the coming one. You know we must never
stand still, but always improve as each year passes. I want each one of
you to take a personal interest in that little Cot, and to feel that you
have done something toward making the life of some poor sick child
brighter, that you have helped to bring some sunshine into a sorrowful
little life. Let each one of us do what we can, for the dear sake of one
who loved little children when He was here upon earth.</p>

<p>
<span style="margin-left: 34em;"><span class="smcap">E.&nbsp;A. Fanshawe</span>.</span><br />
</p>

<hr class="tb" />

<h3>PUZZLES FROM YOUNG CONTRIBUTORS.</h3>

<h3>No. 1.</h3>

<h3>COMPOUND DOUBLE ACROSTIC.</h3>

<p>1. Part of an animal. 2. A river in Italy. 3. To raise. 4. A reptile.
Primals&mdash;A stag. Finals&mdash;A stream. Connected&mdash;A city in New England.</p>

<p>
<span style="margin-left: 34em;"><span class="smcap">Frank McF</span>.</span><br />
</p>

<hr class="tb" />

<h3>No. 2.</h3>

<h3>FOUR EASY WORD SQUARES.</h3>

<p class="center">1.&mdash;1. Spoke. 2. A part in music. 3. A fact. 4. A roof.</p>

<p class="center">2.&mdash;1. A boy's name. 2. Atmosphere. 3. Attempt.</p>

<p>
<span style="margin-left: 34em;"><span class="smcap">Charles R.&nbsp;F</span>.</span><br />
</p>

<p class="center">3.&mdash;1. A night-bird. 2. A river in England. 3. A verb.</p>

<p class="center">4.&mdash;1. A utensil. 2. Custom. 3. An insect.</p>

<p>
<span style="margin-left: 34em;"><span class="smcap">Effie</span>.</span><br />
</p>

<hr class="tb" />

<h3>No. 3.</h3>

<h3>A DIAMOND.</h3>

<p class="center">1. A letter. 2. An animal. 3. A letter. 4. To gain. 5. A letter.</p>

<p>
<span style="margin-left: 34em;"><span class="smcap">P.&nbsp;D. Sarah</span>.</span><br />
</p>

<hr class="tb" />

<h3>No. 4.</h3>

<h3>TWO ENIGMAS.</h3>

<h3>1.</h3>

<div class="center">
<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" summary="">
<tr><td align="left">First in toad, not in snake.</td></tr>
<tr><td align="left">Second in hoe, not in rake.</td></tr>
<tr><td align="left">Third in boat, not in ship.</td></tr>
<tr><td align="left">Fourth in boy, not in snip.</td></tr>
<tr><td align="left">Fifth in tooth, not in jaw.</td></tr>
<tr><td align="left">Sixth in crusty, not in claw.</td></tr>
<tr><td align="left">Seventh in Charles, not in James.</td></tr>
<tr><td align="left">Eighth in river, not in Thames.</td></tr>
<tr><td align="left">Ninth in reef, not in sail.</td></tr>
<tr><td align="left">Whole the name of a beautiful tale.</td></tr>
</table></div>

<p>
<span style="margin-left: 34em;">E.&nbsp;S.&nbsp;H.</span><br />
</p>

<h3>2.</h3>

<div class="center">
<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" summary="">
<tr><td align="left">First in tight, not in slack.</td></tr>
<tr><td align="left">Second in coach, not in hack.</td></tr>
<tr><td align="left">Third in whist, not in card.</td></tr>
<tr><td align="left">Fourth in easy, not in hard.</td></tr>
<tr><td align="left">Fifth in run, not in walk.</td></tr>
<tr><td align="left">Sixth in crayon, not in chalk.</td></tr>
<tr><td align="left">Seventh in fun, not in play.</td></tr>
<tr><td align="left">Eighth in bird, not in jay.</td></tr>
<tr><td align="left">Ninth in able, not in weak.</td></tr>
<tr><td align="left">Tenth in Hebrew, not in Greek.</td></tr>
<tr><td align="left">Eleventh in Venus, not in star.</td></tr>
<tr><td align="left">Twelfth in rail, not in bar.</td></tr>
<tr><td align="left">Whole a tower very high</td></tr>
<tr><td align="left">Which people thought would touch the sky.</td></tr>
</table></div>

<p>
<span style="margin-left: 34em;">R.&nbsp;B.&nbsp;B.</span><br />
</p>

<hr class="tb" />

<h3>ANSWERS TO PUZZLES IN No. 141.</h3>

<h3>No. 1.</h3>

<div class="center">
<table border="0" cellpadding="4" cellspacing="0" summary="">
<tr><td align="center">H</td><td align="center">i</td><td align="center">S</td></tr>
<tr><td align="center">O</td><td align="center">a</td><td align="center">K</td></tr>
<tr><td align="center">S</td><td align="center">h</td><td align="center">E</td></tr>
<tr><td align="center">P</td><td align="center">ea</td><td align="center">T</td></tr>
<tr><td align="center">I</td><td align="center">saa</td><td align="center">C</td></tr>
<tr><td align="center">T</td><td align="center">hrough</td><td align="center">H</td></tr>
<tr><td align="center">A</td><td align="center">r</td><td align="center">E</td></tr>
<tr><td align="center">L</td><td align="center">es</td><td align="center">S</td></tr>
</table></div>

<p class="center">Hospital Sketches.</p>

<h3>No. 2.</h3>

<p class="center">Christopher Columbus.</p>

<h3>No. 3.</h3>

<div class="center">
<table border="0" cellpadding="2" cellspacing="0" summary="">
<tr><td align="center">C</td><td align="center">A</td><td align="center">R</td><td align="center">A</td><td align="center">T</td><td align="center"></td><td align="center"></td><td align="center">M</td><td align="center">A</td><td align="center">P</td><td align="center">L</td><td align="center">E</td></tr>
<tr><td align="center">A</td><td align="center">G</td><td align="center">I</td><td align="center">L</td><td align="center">E</td><td align="center"></td><td align="center"></td><td align="center">A</td><td align="center">R</td><td align="center">R</td><td align="center">O</td><td align="center">W</td></tr>
<tr><td align="center">R</td><td align="center">I</td><td align="center">F</td><td align="center">L</td><td align="center">E</td><td align="center"></td><td align="center"></td><td align="center">P</td><td align="center">R</td><td align="center">O</td><td align="center">V</td><td align="center">E</td></tr>
<tr><td align="center">A</td><td align="center">L</td><td align="center">L</td><td align="center">O</td><td align="center">T</td><td align="center"></td><td align="center"></td><td align="center">L</td><td align="center">O</td><td align="center">V</td><td align="center">E</td><td align="center">R</td></tr>
<tr><td align="center">T</td><td align="center">E</td><td align="center">E</td><td align="center">T</td><td align="center">H</td><td align="center"></td><td align="center"></td><td align="center">E</td><td align="center">W</td><td align="center">E</td><td align="center">R</td><td align="center">S</td></tr>
</table></div>

<h3>No. 4.</h3>

<p class="center">Asia.</p>

<h3>No. 5.</h3>

<div class="center">
<table border="0" cellpadding="2" cellspacing="0" summary="">
<tr><td align="center">C</td><td align="center">O</td><td align="center">W</td></tr>
<tr><td align="center">O</td><td align="center">N</td><td align="center">E</td></tr>
<tr><td align="center">W</td><td align="center">E</td><td align="center">N</td></tr>
</table></div>

<h3>No. 6.</h3>

<p class="center">Sweet-william. Mouse-tail.</p>

<h3>No. 7.</h3>

<p class="center">A watch.</p>

<hr class="tb" />

<p>Correct answers to puzzles were received from Amy Seibert, Lottie Cross,
Jarvis Tyler, Lucy Tilden, Jack Titus, "Peggotty," Eliza G. Holmes,
Eddie S. Hequembourg, Richard Lawrence, Charlie and Willie Lloyd,
"Martha," Allie E. Cressingham, Anna J. Davison, B.&nbsp;J. Lantz, Clarence
Chipman, Helen, Arthur A. Beebe, Frank Lomas, Louis Jochem, David
Heineman, Sydney Heineman, Frank H. Powell, Edwin P. Holt, Mary Smith,
"Sunshade," Lucy L.&nbsp;T., DuBois Freeman, "Eureka," P.&nbsp;D. Sarah, "Tommy
Tucker," "Blazes," T.&nbsp;C.&nbsp;L., "Daisy Deane," Lizzie G. Powell, Robin
Dyke, Charlie Cox, Harry Johnston, Jacob D. Jais, Eva Clarendon,
Margaret Nichols, Louise Raynor, Philip Remsen, "Flying Eagle," and Ada
Sykes.</p>

<hr class="tb" />

<p class="center">[<i>For Exchanges, see 2d and 3d pages of cover.</i>]</p>

<hr class="chap" />

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_640" id="Page_640">[Pg 640]</a></span></p>

<div class="figcenter" style="width: 601px;">
<img src="images/ill_019.jpg" width="601" height="900" alt="" />
<span class="caption">SOME ANSWERS TO WIGGLE No. 27, OUR ARTIST'S IDEA, AND NEW WIGGLE, No. 28.</span>
</div>

<p style="clear:both;">&nbsp;</p>

<div class="footnotes"><h3>FOOTNOTES:</h3>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a name="Footnote_1_1" id="Footnote_1_1"></a><a href="#FNanchor_1_1"><span class="label">[1]</span></a> Begun in No. 127, <span class="smcap">Harper's Young People</span>.</p></div></div>








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