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Title: Harper's Young People, March 30, 1880

Author: Various

Release date: March 27, 2009 [eBook #28423]
                Most recently updated: January 4, 2021

Language: English

Credits: Produced by Annie McGuire


*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK HARPER'S YOUNG PEOPLE, MARCH 30, 1880 ***




Produced by Annie McGuire








[Illustration: HARPER'S

YOUNG PEOPLE

AN ILLUSTRATED WEEKLY.]


       *       *       *       *       *

VOL. I.--NO. 22. PUBLISHED BY HARPER & BROTHERS, NEW YORK. PRICE FOUR
CENTS.

Tuesday, March 30, 1880. Copyright, 1880, by HARPER & BROTHERS. $1.50
per Year, in Advance.

       *       *       *       *       *




[Illustration: A DELUSION AND A SNARE.]




"APRIL-FOOL!"

BY MARGARET EYTINGE.


There was one boy in the Merrit Academy who never joined in any of the
games; never went skating; never went swimming; never made a snow man or
threw snow-balls; never came to the meetings of the debating society,
where such questions as, "If a fellow ask a fellow for a bite of a
fellow's apple, which is the politer way to give it to a fellow--to bite
off a piece yourself, or let a fellow bite for himself?" were debated
with much mock gravity and real fun.

He looked with horror on all kinds of fighting; had no admiration for
great generals; thought war should be abolished; shuddered at tales of
cruelty and suffering; was constitutionally timid and extremely
credulous; hated thunder and lightning; liked birds, flowers, pretty
verses, and fairy tales; believed in ghosts and supernatural beings; was
very fair haired, very blue eyed, tall, slender, and named Harold Lord.
But after the first week or two of his attendance at school--he was a
day scholar--his real name was never heard, for his school-mates,
quickly finding out his peculiar characteristics, skillfully turned it
into "Lady Harriet," and Lady Harriet he remained for many a long
year. Of course, being so girlish in his appearance, ways, and tastes,
and of so reserved and gentle a disposition, the other boys rather
looked down upon him, and, after the manner of boys, made him the
subject of much chaff and many practical jokes; and so it came about
when Charley Bennet and Ned Morningstar and Hen Rowe began on the
afternoon of the 31st of March to talk about the 1st of April, they hit
upon Lady Harriet as a boy who would make a capital "April-fool."

"We can have no end of fun with him," said Charley. "You know he lives
all alone with his grandmother--"

"A Little Red Riding-hood," interrupted Hen Rowe.

"--down by the cedar woods," continued Bennet. "But the question now in
order is, what kind of fun shall it be?"

"Dress up like Indians, and pretend you're goin' to scalp him," proposed
little Al Smith, who had joined the party--a thing no other small boy in
that establishment would have dared to do; but then Alfred, as his aunt
called him--and a very cross old aunt she was, too--had no father nor
mother, and was such a good-natured, willing, reliable young chap that
his older school-mates made quite a pet of him, and allowed him many
liberties they would have allowed to no one else in his class.

"Nonsense, Smithey," said Hen Rowe. "Ghosts is the thing;" and striking
an attitude, he quoted:

                "'I am thy father's spirit;
  Doom'd for a certain term to walk the night;
  And, for the day, confined to fast in fires....
  I could a tale unfold, whose lightest word
  Would harrow up thy soul; fre-e-e-eze thy young blood;
  Make thy--'"

"That's quite enough of that, Rowe," said Bennet. "A band of young
desperadoes is my idea. The papers are full of 'em just now--fellows
living in caves and other queer places, and robbing right and left
(result of reading too many dime novels; heard the Professor say so this
morning). Been 'round here too; stole Uncle Jeff's calf day before
yesterday; and his grandmother goes to sewing society to-morrow night."

"The calf's grandmother?" asked Hen Rowe.

"Didn't know you had any grandmother," said Bennet.

"Charley's hit on the very thing," declared Ned Morningstar. "We'll let
three or four other fellows into the joke, and I'll be captain, and
we'll wear masks, and all the old clothes we can beg, borrow, or take,
and get ourselves up prime as a No. 1 band of reg'lar young villains.
Aha! your money or your life!" making a lunge at small Al.

"But you won't really hurt Lady Harriet?" said the little fellow, an
anxious look coming into his soft brown eyes. "He's good to me, and
gives me candy, and took me fishin' once."

"Took you fishin'!" repeated Charley Bennet, counterfeiting the greatest
astonishment. "If he did, I'll bet he never let you catch a fish. He'd
'a fainted when he saw it a-wriggling on the hook."

"He did too," answered Al, stoutly. "I caught four, and six crabs, and
he got eight," adding, frankly, "but he said he didn't like to catch
them, only his grandmother said he must."

"Very reprehensible old lady," said Hen Rowe, gravely, "to allow her
greediness for fish to trample on the softest feelings of her grandson's
head--I mean heart. But don't be afraid, Smallbones"--stroking Al's dark
curls--"we won't hurt him, not a bit; make your mind easy about that. He
shall live to take you a-fishin' again.

"It does him good to wake him up once in a while," added Ned
Morningstar, "he's such a turtle. I think I see his face when we all
shout 'April-fool'!"

       *       *       *       *       *

At dusk the next evening, after Grandmother Lord had gone to the sewing
society, six or seven dreadful-looking objects came splashing through
the mud up the road which led to her cottage. They were dressed in
uncouth garments of all sizes and colors. Hats, brimless, or with brims
very much turned up or very much turned down, two flaming red turbans,
and a round handleless basket, through the open wicker-work of which the
hair of the wearer straggled in the most outlandish and porcupinish
manner, constituted their head-gear. The leader carried a gun. The
others were armed with hatchets, knives, and clubs. All their faces were
hidden by paper masks painted in various colors. "This is the house,"
said one of them, in a voice that seemed to come out of the ground
beneath his feet, as they ranged themselves on the front porch, and he
rapped sharply on the door with the stick he carried. It opened, and
there stood Lady Harriet, gazing out with horror-stricken eyes upon the
motley gang. "Your money or your life!" demanded he of the gun, at the
same time pointing the weapon at the trembling boy.

Lady Harriet turned pale, and shrank back. "I have no money," he said,
in a faltering voice.

"Then we must have your life," was the gruff reply, "unless you consent
to become one of us. Seize him and search him!"

"_Do_ go away, and leave me alone," implored the boy, falling upon his
knees and clasping his hands. "There is no use--making me--join your
gang," he continued, with chattering teeth. "I--couldn't be a--a--what
you are--to save--my life."

But the young desperadoes paid no attention to his entreaties, and while
two of their number rifled his pockets, the others, lighting a couple of
lanterns they had brought with them, followed their leader on a tramp
through the house, with much noise and deep growling. On the return of
the latter, the pocket-searchers presented the captain with half a stick
of peppermint candy, a penknife, a dime, a small book (_The Language of
Flowers_), and some violets wrapped in a handkerchief.

"Prisoner," said the captain, sternly--that is, as sternly as the pebble
he had under his tongue would allow--"if you make an attempt to escape,
the consequences be on your own head. Right about face! March!"

And away they went, dragging poor Lady Harriet, begging and imploring to
be set free, with them.

"Did you ever see any fellow so scared in all your life?" whispered
Charley Bennet to Hen Rowe, as their victim began to cry and scream.

"Never," said Rowe. "I begin to feel sorry for him. But what a baby he
is! Why don't he break and run? He can make good time with those long
legs when he's a mind to."

"Halt!" cried the captain, when they reached the cedar woods. "This has
gone quite far enough. We want no cowards among us. Boy, you are--" And
the mouths of his followers simultaneously opened for a tremendous
shout, when--

"I perfectly agree with you," interrupted the prisoner, quickly,
wresting himself at the same time with a dexterous movement from the
grasp of the two boys who had held him; and then he went on in his usual
soft voice and slow way: "I mean this joke's gone quite far enough. You
came half an hour or so before I expected you, but I think we've all
acted our parts first-rate. Good-evening, Captain Morningstar.
Good-evening, desperadoes. Farewell, April-fools." And he turned and
walked leisurely toward his home again.

"Jiminy!" exclaimed Ned Morningstar, snatching off his mask and pulling
a long face. "Somebody has--"

"Blundered," said Hen Rowe.

  "Fools to the right of me,
  Fools to the left of me,
  Fools ev'ry side of me--
  Oh, how they wondered!

"what's the use of being glum about it. I've an idea it serves us right.
Three cheers for Lady Harriet. He's not such a fool as he looks."

"As we look, I think," said Roy Wheeler.

And then, like the jolly boys they really were, they gave the cheers
with a will, and followed them up with a roar of laughter that wakened
all the echoes for miles around.




GENERAL SCHUYLER AND THE TORIES.

BY BENSON J. LOSSING.


The Tories of the Revolution were the most bitter and annoying foes of
the patriots who were struggling for their independence. The relation of
the Whigs and Tories was that of belligerents in a civil war--cruel and
uncompromising.

General Philip Schuyler, whose sleepless vigilance acquired for him the
title of "the Eye of the Northern Department," was the terror of the
Tories in Northern New York, from Sir John Johnson down to Joe Bettys.
Schuyler was, for a long time, commander of the Northern Department. In
1781 he was not in military command. He lived at his country-seat at
Saratoga a part of the year, and the rest of the time at his fine
mansion situated in the southern suburbs of Albany. The British, under
Burgoyne, having destroyed his mansion at Saratoga, and that place being
exposed to incursions of the British and Indians, he made his residence
permanently at Albany.

Early in August, 1781, an attempt was made by some Tories and Indians to
capture him, that he might be used in exchange for some prominent
British prisoner, and also to get rid of the watchfulness of that
dreaded "Eye." In Saratoga lived a man named Walter Myers, who knew
Schuyler well. He had eaten at his table in Albany, and knew the
character of his house and its surroundings. Myers had joined the Tory
Rangers of Colonel Robert Rodgers--a famous partisan on the northern
frontier. The British authorities in Canada employed Myers, who had
become a captain under Rodgers, to seize General Schuyler, Governor
Clinton, and other prominent patriots in the region of the Hudson River,
as far down as Poughkeepsie. Myers was at the head of the party of
Tories and Indians above alluded to, who attempted to carry off
Schuyler. I will let the General tell the story of that attempt in the
following letter to General Washington, dated "Albany, August 8, 1781."
I copied it from the original:

     "On Saturday, the 29th, while with the commissions for detecting
     conspiracies, I received information that a certain Captain Myers,
     of Rodgers's Rangers, from Canada, lurked in the vicinity of this
     place, with an intent to take or assassinate me. This corroborated
     intelligence given to General Clinton by a person escaped from
     Canada. On the Monday following I was informed by a Tory (whose
     gratitude for favors received surmounted the influence of his
     principles) that a reward of 200 guineas had been offered by the
     government in Canada to bring me there.

     "On Sunday last, Major McKinstry wrote me by express from Saratoga
     that a party under Captain Jones had ambushed some time about
     Saratoga, that he had certain intelligence that I was their
     object, and that another party was down here with the same
     intentions. I took every precaution, except that of requesting a
     guard from General Clinton.

     "Last night, about nine o'clock, Myers, with about twenty others,
     made the attempt. He forced the gate of a close court-yard, and
     afterward my kitchen door, from which servants, who had taken
     alarm, flew to their arms, and by a gallant opposition at the door
     of my house, afforded me time to retire out of my hall, where I
     was at supper, to my bedroom, where I kept my arms. After having
     made prisoners of two of the white men, wounded a third, and
     obliged the other to make his escape out of the house, some
     surrounded it, and others entered it. Those in the quarter exposed
     to my fire immediately retired. Those who had got up into the
     saloon to attempt, I suppose, the room I was in, retreated with
     precipitation as soon as they heard me call, '_Come on, my lads!
     surround the house; the villains are in it._' This I did to make
     them believe that succor was at hand, and it had the desired
     effect. They carried off two of my men, and part of my plate. The
     militia from the town and some of the troops ran to my assistance,
     and pursued the enemy, but too late to overtake them."

Thirty years ago, Mrs. C. V. R. Cochrane, of Oswego, the youngest child
of General Schuyler, told me the story substantially as it is told here.
Her father also related that when the family fled up stairs from the
hall, in affright, the baby was left behind in the cradle. Mrs. Schuyler
was about to rush down stairs for the child, when the General
interposed, saying, "_Your_ life is more valuable." Her daughter
Margaret, then about twelve years of age, hearing this, ran down for the
baby, snatched it from the cradle, and started up the stairs with it. An
Indian threw a tomahawk at her. It grazed the infant's head, cut a hole
in Margaret's dress, and lodged in the mahogany stair rail. That infant
became Mrs. Cochrane, and Margaret became the wife of Stephen Van
Rensselaer, the Patroon, at Albany. The mansion yet stands; and well up
the stairway may be seen the scar made by the keen blade of the tomahawk
in the rail.




YOUNG DIAMOND MERCHANTS.


A noted traveller, who wrote about the diamond mines of India a very
long time ago, describes the work done by the children. In speaking of a
visit to the principal mine of Golconda, he says:

"A very pretty sight is that presented every morning by the children of
the master-miners and of other inhabitants of the district. The
boys--the eldest of whom is not yet over sixteen, or the youngest under
ten years of age--assemble, and sit under a large tree in the public
square of the village. Each has his diamond weight in a bag, hung on one
side of his girdle, and on the other a purse, containing sometimes as
much as five or six hundred pagodas.

"Here they wait for such persons as have diamonds to sell, either from
the vicinity or from any other mine. When a diamond is brought to them,
it is immediately handed to the eldest boy, who is tacitly acknowledged
as the head of this little band. By him it is carefully examined, and
then passed to his next neighbor, who, having also inspected it, gives
it to the next boy. The diamond is thus passed from hand to hand, amidst
unbroken silence, until it returns to that of the eldest, who then asks
the price, and makes the bargain. If the eldest boy is thought by his
comrades to have given too high a price, he must keep the stone on his
own account.

"In the evening the children take an account of their stock, examine
their purchases, and class the diamonds according to their water, size,
and purity, putting on each stone the price they expect to get for it.
These children are so perfectly acquainted with the value of all sorts
of gems, that if one of them, after buying a stone, is willing to lose
one-half per cent, upon it, a companion is always ready to take it."

The diamond mines of Brazil were discovered by a curious circumstance in
1730. Some miners in searching for gold found some curious pebbles,
which they carried home to their masters as curiosities. Not being
considered of any value, they were given to the children to play with.
An officer who had spent some years in the East Indies saw these
pebbles, and sent a handful to a friend in Lisbon to be examined. They
proved to be diamonds. A few were collected and sent to Holland, and
were pronounced to be equal to those of Golconda. The news soon reached
Brazil, and those who possessed any of the "pebbles" soon realized large
sums of money. The Portuguese government laid a claim upon all diamonds
that might be found thereafter, a search was made, and mines were
discovered.




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

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

A True Story.

BY J. O. DAVIDSON.


CHAPTER IV.

A DARING FEAT.

Luckily for our hero, Mr. Hawkins, the first officer, was a shrewd,
clear-headed man, and had his own opinion of Master Monkey. The latter
told his tale confidently enough, but a few pointed questions confused
him at once: he stammered, contradicted himself, and was finally turned
out in disgrace. Austin then gave _his_ version, and the officer, after
questioning him closely, appeared satisfied.

"Here, my lad," said he, writing a few lines on a slip of paper, "take
that to the chief engineer--you'll find him in his bunk, I reckon."

In his bunk, sure enough, lay the "chief," groaning dismally. He was a
tall, fine-looking fellow, with bright blue eyes, and an arm like a
blacksmith's; but when a man is on his back from seasickness, how _can_
he look heroic?

"So, my boy, you've run away to sea, eh? Humph! that's just what _I_ did
when I was your age--and much good I've got by it! It was all through
reading those precious sea-stories, which made me think I'd only to
start to be made a captain at once. Wish I'd never learned to
read--ugh!"

Here came a terrible spasm of sickness, to the great amazement of Frank,
who had never dreamed of such a thing as a seasick sailor. Such cases,
however, are not uncommon; and Nelson himself, one of the greatest
sailors on record, never got over this weakness at all.

"This is how _I_ am for the first week of every voyage," resumed the
engineer; "and I always vow that every cruise shall be my last; but when
I get ashore, I can't be happy till I'm afloat again--ugh! oh!"

And another spasm followed, worse than the first.

Frank said nothing, but his pitying face spoke for him; and the sick
man, evidently touched by it, went on in a cheerer tone:

"Well, youngster, you're lucky not to be sick like me. Your name's Frank
Austin, eh? Well, go and tell Mr. Harris to give you some work in the
engine-room."

This promotion was the beginning of a new life for our hero. Now, at
last, there was a chance of learning something; and the men, in whose
estimation he had risen greatly since his defeat of Monkey, were always
ready to answer his eager questions. He was never weary of admiring the
huge machine which did with one smooth and regular movement the work of
hundreds of strong men, obeying the slightest turn of a tiny wheel, yet
capable of tearing the whole ship to pieces should its irresistible
strength ever break loose.

And now, as they began to enter the tropics, everything grew warm and
bright. Flannels were doffed, and an awning spread over the after-deck.
The wind, though it still blew strongly, was now in their favor; and
foretopsail and mainsail, jib and spanker, were set to catch it, till
the ship staggered under her press of canvas, and careened as if about
to dip her very yards.

So passed several days, during which nothing special occurred; for by
this time everything had got "shaken into its place," and the routine of
the ship's duties proceeded as regularly as clock-work. Frank, now
restored to his place at the mess table, and high in favor with the crew
(who henceforth reserved for Monkey the cuffs and jeers formerly
bestowed upon our hero), was beginning to feel quite at home in his new
life, when it was suddenly broken by a very startling adventure.

One evening about dusk the machinery slackened suddenly, and an unusual
bustle was heard on deck. A man running past thrust an oil-can into
Frank's hand, and bade him carry it to one of the engineers upon the
starboard (right-hand) paddle-box. On deck all was confusion. Men were
rushing hurriedly to and fro, while the paddle-box itself was occupied
by an excited group of officers and engineers; and it was some time
before Frank could make out what was the matter.

An obstruction of some kind had impeded the turning of the shaft in the
"outboard bearing," which had grown dangerously hot. It was this that
had caused the "slowing down" of the engine, which could not be set
working again till the impediment was removed, and the "bearing" oiled.

Looking over the side, Austin saw a man hanging by a rope on the outer
face of the paddle-box, like a spider on its thread, and laboring
stoutly, with hammer and oil-can, to set matters to rights. Suddenly the
ship plunged, and the man disappeared into a surging wave. He rose
again, vanished a second time, reappeared once more, and again the
blows of his hammer were heard, and again the boiling whirl of foam
swallowed him up. At every plunge Death seemed to gape for him; but
drenched, gasping, and half stifled as he was, he still worked bravely
on.

On the deck all was now deadly still; and in that grim silence the hard
breathing of the excited crew could be heard as they watched the
solitary man at his fearful task. Would it _never_ be over? Crash after
crash the cruel waves came bursting upon him, and all could see that his
strength was beginning to fail.

But the work is nearly done! A few more hammer strokes and he is safe.
Already the anxious crew are beginning to breathe more freely, and even
to greet their hero with encouraging shouts, when suddenly a mountain
wave is seen coming right down upon him.

"Look out, Allen!" roar the sailors, with one voice.

Allen casts one glance up at the overhanging mass, and then twines his
arms and limbs around the "open-work" of the paddle-box with the
strength of desperation. The next moment there comes a stunning shock
and a deafening crash, and all is one whirl of blinding spray and
seething foam, amid which nothing can be heard and nothing seen. But
when the rush passes, the brave man is still there.

A shout of joy arises, but is instantly followed by a terrible cry. _The
safety-line around Allen's body has parted!_

"Grapple him with boat-hooks, some o' ye!" roars the boatswain. "Fling
him a rope!--quick! or he's lost."

[Illustration: MAN OVERBOARD!]

But before any of the hands stretched toward the doomed man could reach
him, his stiffened fingers lost their hold. For one moment he was seen
balanced in mid-air, with his imploring glance cast upward at the stanch
comrades who were powerless to save him, and then down he went into the
roaring sea.

There was an instant rush to the life-boat; but it was barely half way
to the water when a huge sea dashed it against the ship's side, crushing
it like an egg-shell. This was the last chance. An arm tossing wildly
through the foam of a distant wave, a faint cry borne past on the wind,
and poor Allen was gone forever.

Then, amid the dismal silence, was heard, clear and strong, the firm
voice of the captain:

"Lads, I won't _order_ any of you to run such a risk; but this job must
be done somehow, or we shall all go to the bottom together. Fifty
dollars to any man who'll volunteer!"

A dozen men sprang forward at once; but quick as they were, there was
_one_ before them--and that one was Frank Austin. Unnoticed by all, he
had knotted a rope around his waist, fastened the other end to an iron
stanchion, and before any one could stop him, down he slid to the
perilous spot, escaping, as if by miracle, several heavy seas which came
rolling in, one upon another.

[Illustration: OILING THE OUTBOARD BEARINGS.]

For a moment the whole ship's company stood as if thunder-struck; and
then one of the sailors, muttering, "Guess he'll want _them_, anyhow,"
lowered a hammer and oil-can, which Frank dexterously caught. The work
was so nearly done that a few blows of the hammer sufficed to complete
it; and a deafening cheer greeted the young hero as he prepared to climb
up again.

"Smart, now, lad!" shouted half a dozen voices; "here's another sea
comin'."

But Frank saw at once that the wave would be upon him before he could
reach the deck, and that there was only one way of escape. Thrusting his
slim figure between the beams of the open-work, where no full-grown man
could have passed, he held on with all his strength. Crash came the
great billow against the side, making the whole ship quiver from stem to
stern; but Austin remained unhurt. The next moment he was safe on deck.

And now came a scene that might have served any painter for a study of
Horatius among the Romans after his defense of the bridge. Frank was
snatched up and carried shoulder-high to the forecastle by the cheering
crew, who kept shouting the news of his exploit to all that had not seen
it. His hands were shaken till they tingled, and his shoulder-blades
ached with friendly slaps on the back from the sledge-hammer fists of
his admirers. Every one was eager to give something to the hero of the
hour. Offers of pipes, clasp-knives, tobacco, etc., rained upon him from
the very men who had cuffed and kicked him like a dog but a few days
before; and even his refusal of these gifts, which would formerly have
been set down to conceit and "uppishness," was now taken in perfectly
good part. In fact, that one deed of promptitude and courage had raised
him from the last to one of the first among the whole crew. So true is
it that they who succeed best are not always the bravest, or the wisest,
or the strongest, but simply those who keep their wits about them, and
never miss a chance of doing something.

[TO BE CONTINUED.]




A STRANGE FELLOW-VOYAGER.


I've had many a queer voyage in my time, said Captain M----, but the
queerest I ever had was one that I made (somewhat unexpectedly, as you
will see), upon the Great Fish River, in South Africa, on my way back
from a hunting excursion.

As I neared the bank I saw that the river was in full flood, more than
twice its usual breadth, and running like a mill-race. I knew at once
that I should have a very tough job to get across, for a flooded African
river is no joke, I can tell you. But I knew also that my wife would be
terribly anxious if I didn't come back on the day I had fixed--South
Africa being a place where a good many things may happen to a man--and
so I determined to chance it.

Just at the water's edge I found an old Bushman that I knew well, who
had a boat of his own; so I hailed him at once:

"Well, Kaloomi, what will you take to put me across the river?"

"No go fifty dollar this time, baas" (master), said the old fellow, in
his half-Dutch, half-English jargon. "Boat no get 'cross to-day; water
groed" (great).

And never a bit could I persuade him, although I offered him money
enough to make any ordinary Bushman jump head-first down a precipice.
Money was good, he said, but it would be no use to him when he was
drowned; and in short he wouldn't budge.

"Well, if you won't put me across," said I at last, "lend me your boat,
and I'll just do the job for myself; I can't very well take my horse
with me, so I'll just leave him here in pledge that I'll pay for the
boat when I come back."

"Keep horse for you, master, quite willing; but s'pose you try cross
to-day, you never come back to ask for him."

He spoke so positively that, although I'm not easily frightened, I
certainly did feel rather uncomfortable. However, when you've got to do
a thing of that sort, the less you think of it the better, so I jumped
into the boat and shoved off.

I had barely got clear of the shore when I found that the old fellow was
right, for the boat shot down the stream like an arrow. I saw in a
moment that there was no hope of paddling her across, and that all I
could do was just to keep her head straight. But I hadn't the chance of
doing even that very long, for just then a big tree came driving along,
and hitting my boat full on the quarter, smashed her like an egg-shell.
I had just time to clutch the projecting roots, and whisk myself up on
to them, and then tree and I went away down stream together, at I don't
know how many miles an hour.

At first I was so rejoiced at escaping just when all seemed over with
me, that I didn't think much of what was to come next; but before long I
got something to think about with a vengeance. The tree, as I've said,
was a large one, and the branch end (the opposite one to where I sat)
was all one mass of green leaves. All at once, just as I was shifting
myself to a safer place among the roots, the leaves suddenly shook and
parted, and out popped the great yellow head and fierce eyes of an
enormous lion.

I don't think I ever got such a fright in my life. My gun had gone to
the bottom along with the boat, and the only weapon I had left was a
short hunting knife, which against such a beast as that would be of no
more use than a bodkin. I fairly gave myself up for lost, making sure
that in another moment he'd spring forward and tear me to bits.

But whether it was that he had already gorged himself with prey, or
whether (as I suspect) he was really frightened at finding himself in
such a scrape, he showed no disposition to attack me, so long at least
as I remained still. The instant I made any movement, however, he would
begin roaring and lashing his tail, as if he were going to fall on me at
once. So, to avoid provoking him, I was forced to remain stock-still,
although sitting so long in one position cramped me dreadfully.

There we sat, Mr. Lion and I, staring at each other with all our
might--a very picturesque group, no doubt, if there had been anybody
there to see it. Down, down the stream we went, the banks seeming to
race past us as if we were going by train, while all around broken
timber, wagon wheels, trees, bushes, and the carcasses of drowned horses
and cattle, went whirling past us upon the thick brown water.

All at once I noticed that the lion seemed to be getting strangely
restless, turning his great head from side to side in a nervous kind of
way, as if he saw or heard something that he didn't like. At first I
couldn't imagine what on earth was the matter with him, but presently I
caught a sound which scared me much worse than it had done the lion. Far
in the distance I could hear a dull, booming roar, which I had heard too
often not to recognize at once: we were nearing a water-fall!

I had seen the Great Falls of the Fish River more than once, and the
bare thought of being carried over those tremendous precipices made my
very blood run cold. Yet being devoured by a lion would hardly be much
of an improvement; and as I hadn't the ghost of a chance of being able
to swim ashore, there really seemed to be no other alternative.

Faster and faster we went; louder and louder grew the roar of the
cataract. The lion seemed to have quite given himself up for lost, and
crouched down among the leaves, only uttering a low moaning whine every
now and then. I was fairly at my wits' end what to do, when all of a
sudden I caught sight of something that gave me a gleam of hope.

A little way ahead of us the river narrowed suddenly, and a rocky
headland thrust itself out a good way into the stream. On one of the
lowest points of it grew a thick clump of trees, whose boughs overhung
the water; and it struck me that if we only passed near enough, I might
manage to catch hold of one of the branches, and swing myself up on to
the rock.

No sooner said than done. I started up, hardly caring whether the lion
attacked me or not, and planted myself firmly upon one of the biggest
roots, where I could take a good spring when the time came. I knew that
this would be my last chance, for by this time we were so near the
precipice that I could see quite plainly, a little way ahead, the great
cloud of spray and vapor that hovered over the great water-fall. Even at
the best it was a desperate venture, and I can tell you that I felt my
heart beginning to thump like a sledge-hammer as we came closer and
closer to the point, and I thought of what would happen if I missed my
leap.

Just as we neared it, it happened, by the special mercy of God, that our
tree struck against something, and turned fairly crosswise to the
current, the end with the lion on it swinging out into mid-stream, while
my end was driven close to the rock on which the clump of trees grew.

Now or never! I made one spring (I don't think I ever made such another
before or since), and just clutched the lowest bough; and as I dragged
myself on to it I heard the last roar of the doomed lion mingling with
the thunder of the water-fall, as he vanished into the cloud of mist
that overhung the precipice.

As for me, it was late enough that night before I got home, and I found
my poor wife in a fine fright about me; so I thought it just as well, on
the whole, to keep my adventure to myself, and it wasn't till nearly a
year later that she heard a word about my strange fellow-voyager.




EASY BOTANY.

MARCH.


The delightful science of botany treats of the forms and habits of
plants.

This study leads the steps away from the busy town to the quiet woods
and hills, giving a charm to every stroll, and making for each young
student hosts of friends whose sweet faces will greet him through life
with unaltering truth and beauty.

Gathering wild flowers is a pleasure too well known to need dwelling
upon, but studying plants botanically involves more than this, as the
student will soon find out. And there are difficulties, such as hard
Latin words of many syllables which must be pronounced, and, worse
still, _spelled_--a trying process even to the experienced. Care must
also be taken to write down everything distinctly, and there must be
patience, faithfulness, and resolute perseverance. But the reward comes,
and one feels paid for his trouble when he is able to pick a flower, to
sit down and _find it out_, and give to it its hard botanical name.

It is now spring, and the tears and smiles of April will quickly awaken
the sleeping wild flowers. Let me urge the young people to take up the
study of these "darlings of the forest." Gray's _First Lessons in
Botany_ will help along beginners, and before the flowers come we will
tell them where to find them.

Let each one have a ruled blank book of _good size_ to write down the
botanical and common name of every flower. How many flowers do you think
you can find in April? and who will find the most?




NOBLESSE OBLIGE.

BY V. G. SMITH.


Those of you who have studied French can translate this motto, and those
who have not may perhaps guess that it means "nobility obliges"; but it
is a favorite expression with so many different people, and it seems to
mean such different things to different persons, that perhaps it may be
worth while to tell a few anecdotes about what nobility has been
supposed to oblige us to do.

When James I. of England was a little boy in Scotland, he had an
extremely clever tutor, George Buchanan. Now Buchanan was a great Latin
scholar. He wrote verses, and was called the Scotch Virgil. Of course he
was very ambitious that his royal pupil should be a good Latin scholar
too, and the books say he "_whipped_ so much knowledge into him" that
James was called the "British Solomon." This was the approved way in
Great Britain at that time to educate boys. But there is a fact about
which most of the books are silent: Buchanan and his friends reasoned
that though it was quite true that James could never learn Latin unless
some one was whipped, it would be a dreadful thing to strike a boy of
the blood royal, and so they arranged that another boy should live at
court, who should be whipped every time James failed in his declensions
and conjugations.

This seems to have been a very satisfactory arrangement, and you see, in
this case, "nobility obliged" somebody else to be punished when the
"nobility" had done wrong.

This is the sense in which a great many splendid and magnificent people,
with crowns on their heads and sceptres in their hands, have understood
the motto.

Tradition does not say what James himself thought about it. Perhaps he
worked all the harder with his lessons, and felt that "nobility obliged"
him not to let any one else suffer for his faults. If that was so, it
was not a bad plan, after all.

There is a better sense in which some have understood the motto. Perhaps
some of you have read the touching letter of the Prince Imperial before
he went to the fatal Zululand, where he was so cruelly murdered. The
poor boy felt as if he had no object in England. He thought of the great
deeds of the other Napoleons, and was stung at his own inaction. There
seemed to be no duty left for him to do, in the way of fighting; but
fight he must, to show he was as brave as the rest of his family. They
say he was a gentle, affectionate, noble-spirited boy, and it seems as
if he thought others would suppose he was weak unless he did some deed
of daring. _His_ nobility obliged him to be foremost in the most
desperate places; and so he died, and the world mourned for him.

I think, as you read history more and more, you will believe, as I do,
that men, and even children, of high birth, are surer to be brave and
courageous than those in more obscure station. They may have other
faults--dreadful ones--but it seems as if they dare not be cowards,
because their whole race is looking at them, and expecting them to be
noble. In this country, where we know so little about our ancestors, we
need a still higher courage to make us do as grand things from yet
higher motives.

For, much as I pity and admire the little Prince, I think there is even
a better way than his to understand the old motto.

Perhaps you have been reading lately some account of the wedding
festivities of the young King Alfonso of Spain; but it is not very long
since he was married to his first wife, sweet little Princess Mercedes,
who died within a few months after her marriage. Indeed, their nobility
often obliges kings who lose their wives to be married again very soon.

It is of Queen Mercedes I wish to tell you. When she was about thirteen
or fourteen years old she was sent to school to a convent in France. The
convent was full of lovely and noble ladies, who had gone there because
they had met with misfortunes of one kind or another. These ladies
taught the young girls under their care very gently; still, there were
certain light punishments for those who were careless or idle. I think
one of these was that the offender should stand in a corner for a
certain length of time.

Although most of the girls were of high birth, the little Princess, soon
to be Queen, was of higher rank than any of the others. Her seat was a
little apart from theirs, and by various small tokens of this kind her
position was recognized.

Now one day it happened that Mercedes committed some fault. Perhaps she
was late in rising, or failed in some other way to carry out the convent
rules. The fault was not serious, and the Sisters did not think it
necessary to enforce the punishment; but Mercedes, blushing very much,
went of her own accord to the corner where she knew she ought to stand,
and staid the appointed time. You see she felt that if she was of too
high rank to receive punishment from others, the duty of inflicting it
upon herself was her own. _Noblesse oblige._

Although the illustrations I have given you have all been from royal
families, where, I suppose, the motto originated, I am sure you will be
able to apply it to hundreds of other cases, and will believe that
nobility of character obliges us with still more force to do the best
things always, though we are bound by no outward law.




[Illustration]

THE SUN AT MIDNIGHT.


There are portions of our globe, away toward either pole, where the sun
remains above the horizon for about two months of the year, making one
long day. During this period the pleasant alternations of morning, day,
evening, and night, are unknown in those regions; and there is also a
long season of night, when the sun is not seen at all. This must be
still more unpleasant, because it is winter-time. The pale cold moon
sheds a chilling light at times over the snow and ice, and the aurora
borealis flashes its splendors through the heavens. The cold is so great
that old chroniclers, writing about the arctic regions, pretended that
when the inhabitants tried to speak, their very words froze in coming
out of their mouths, and did not thaw out till spring. It is not safe to
believe all that old chroniclers tell us, and perhaps in this case they
only tried, in an extravagant way, to make their readers understand how
very cold it was in that Northern land.

[Illustration]

Our next picture shows the pleasanter side of arctic life, when the sun
is above the horizon most of the time, and disappears from sight for
short periods only. Many travellers have gone as far as the famous North
Cape, in Norway, for the sake of seeing the sun at midnight. Among them
is Du Chaillu, whom many of our readers know through his interesting
books about Africa. He stood on the very edge of the cape one July
midnight--that is, it was midnight by the clock--and saw the sun descend
nearly to the horizon, and then begin to rise again. Far to the
northward stretched the deep blue waters of the Arctic Ocean; close
around him was a bleak, dreary, desolate landscape. A few blades of
grass sprouted at the edge of the cape. Further back, in places
sheltered from the winds, the ground was clothed in rich verdure, and
adorned with flowers. Still further inland were little patches of dwarf
birch, scarcely a foot high, crouching close to the ground to escape
being torn away by the furious winds that sweep over the land. There was
none of the abundant life that we see around us in our fields and woods.
A spider, a bumble-bee, and a poor little wanderer of a bird, were the
only living things Du Chaillu saw.

But he beheld the sun at midnight. As the hour of twelve approached, the
pale orb sank almost to the horizon, the line of which it seemed to
follow for a few moments, as it shone serenely over the lonely sea and
desolate land. It was a sight never to be forgotten by one who had
travelled hundreds of miles to witness it.

Sailors and explorers in the far Northern regions find it hard at first
to accustom themselves to the long arctic day; and animals carried on
board ship from lower latitudes are entirely at a loss when to go to
sleep. There is a curious story of an English rooster that seemed to be
utterly bewildered because it never came night. He appeared to think it
unnatural to sleep while the sun was shining, and staggered about until
he fell down from exhaustion. After a while he got into regular habits,
but was apparently so disgusted to wake up in broad daylight, instead of
the gray dawn to which he was accustomed, that he discontinued crowing.
Perhaps he thought he had over-slept himself, and was ashamed to crow so
late.

It seems almost incredible that the dreary regions of which our pictures
afford a glimpse enjoyed, ages ago, a climate even warmer than our own.
The chilling waves that dash against the base of the dreary North Cape
once washed shores clothed in luxuriant vegetation. Stately forests
stood where now only stunted shrubs struggle a few inches above ground.
The mammoth, and other animals that require a warm climate, roamed in
multitudes through those regions. Their bones, found in great abundance
when the banks of the lakes and rivers thaw out and crumble away in the
spring, form an important article of traffic.

The people who live in the dreary regions of the far North are,
generally speaking, industrious, sober, simple-minded, and contented.
They have few pleasures, and their lives are toilsome. But in whatever
region we find them--in the fishing villages of the northernmost coast
of Norway or Lapland, and even in Greenland--they fondly believe their
country to be the best and most favored part of the world. We must beg
leave to differ with them. We love our changing seasons, that gradually
come and go, the sweet succession of day and night, the joyous life that
fills our fields and woods, and the comforts, luxuries, and all the
advantages of civilization. But it is a great blessing to mankind that,
wherever our lot may be cast in this great and wonderful world,

  "Our first, best country ever is at home."




A BOARDING-SCHOOL CLUB.

BY ELINOR ELLIOTT.


"Well, Mildred, what does she say?" asked Dr. Clifford of his pretty
eldest daughter, as she came to the end of her long letter; and the
shower of questions following showed how eager were all at the breakfast
table to hear from the sister away at boarding-school.

"She says so much," laughs Mildred, "that I will read it to you."

  ELM BANK, ---- 13, 1880.

     DEAR MILLY,--I am rejoiced to know your first party was a success,
     and that you were spared the ignominious fate of "full many a
     flower born to blush unseen, and waste its sweetness on
     the"--ball-room wall.

     Your dress must have been a beauty, but I do not envy you. "Fine
     clo'" I have forsworn, and I would not exchange my jolly
     school-days for all your festive parties.

     Tell papa I must have some new boots--very thick, with broad soles
     and low heels--and entreat him not to send them C. O. D., for I
     truly can't pay the expressage.

     We girls have formed a club for the "Abolition and Extirpation of
     Grotesque Idiotic Style."

     Our initials, A, E, G, I, S, as you see, spell "Aegis," which is
     to be our shield (its literal meaning) from aristocratic scorn. I
     dare say I shall not be received in polite circles when I go home,
     but when I look at my ring, on which is engraved A E G I S, I
     shall gain such invulnerability that all sneers will glance aside
     ineffective.

     There is a curious fact about our club and motto. Like the old
     English Cabal, we have five members whose initials form the name,
     viz.,

  Anna Clifford,
  Enid Evans,
  Gertrude Wood,
  Ida Langford,
  Sallie Peterson.

     I have given up curling my hair, and braid it. Of course it isn't
     becoming, but we Aegises stoop not to vanity. I have gained five
     pounds since Christmas; so when my spring suit is made, tell the
     dress-maker to put the extra material into the waist, and not
     waste it (a pun, but very poor) in puffs and paniers, for we have
     abolished them. We try to get along with the bare necessities of
     life.

     I'd give a good deal to see you all, but I'm not the least bit
     homesick.

     Good-by. Give my double-and-twisted love to everybody, and kiss
     the dear pink of a baby a hundred times for me.

  Lovingly,
  ANNA I. CLIFFORD.

     P.S.--When you send the boots, perhaps if you put them in a
     fair-sized box, there'll be room for a cooky or two.

  A. I. C.

"Isn't that a happy letter!"

"Think of our dainty, exquisite Anna so independent! her pretty brown
curls straightened out in a braid, and her dresses shorn of puffs and
ruffles!"

"That's the kind of 'society' for school-girls to form," says papa.
"I'll order the thickest boots I can find to be sent up; also a chicken
for Bridget to roast; and as she has given us so delicate a hint,
perhaps you can find something else to put in the box."

Afternoon finds the Clifford family again assembled in the dining-room,
intent upon packing the boots and "cookies"; and from the size of the
box on the table one would infer that the boots must be No. 17's, and
the cookies as large as cheeses, or, more correctly, that something more
is to be added.

"Wouldn't it be fine to send five things for the club individually?"
asks one.

"Capital!" "Good!" "Just the thing!" cry all.

"And have their initials spell Aegis."

"What shall the first be?"

"A--Apples!" sounds a full chorus.

"It is a vote. And the next?"

"E--Eels," suggests fourteen-year-old Dick, whose suggestions are apt to
be more ludicrous than elegant.

"Eggs; hard-boiled eggs are always dear to my heart in the scenes of my
childhood."

"Bridget, put on a dozen eggs, to boil ten minutes."

"G--Ginger-snaps."

"Grapes."

"Gum-arabic," from Dick.

It takes so long to decide this important point that Dr. Clifford calls
out the fourth letter:

"I."

A hush falls upon them, but, as Dick would say, made no noise, and did
no damage in falling. No one can think of anything but ice-cream. And I
challenge you: put your hand over your eyes, and name two other edibles
beginning with "I."

At last Dick, in an ecstasy of inspiration, starts up, and cries,
"Inch-worms!"

A peal of laughter, and each one suggests some impossible or awful
article; and then the dauntless Richard again: "A few _I_deas."

"If we had them to spare," says papa, dryly.

"Irish potatoes would be like coals at Newcastle."

"I feel it in my bones that Bridget would suggest '_I_sters.'"

"Apropos of that," says Milly, "I think we shall have to adopt the
sound, and send Inglish walnuts, as Anna loves them dearly."

"Now for the last letter."

"S--Sardines."

The things are collected, and stowed away in the box; it is sent off by
express, and in a few days the following letter announces its arrival.

  ELM BANK, ---- 16, 1880.

     DEAR, DEAR, DEAR FAMILY,--I know I can't show you my delight
     better than by telling you all about it.

     Yesterday we Aegises were out walking all the afternoon, and when
     we came home, hungry as wolves, were cheered by a chorus from the
     piazza:

  "A Clifford box, a Wood box--
  A Clifford box, a Wood box."

     Perhaps you have no appetizing association with a wood-box, but
     the news quickened our steps, and inspired us with the elasticity
     of a quintette of rubber balls as we bounded up the steps, and
     fell upon our boxes with all the love of a father upon a returned
     prodigal.

     I sat down on my box, and Gertie on hers, and there we sat, as
     happy as two enthroned queens, with serfs and vassals standing
     near. How every girl in school idolized us last night!

     "George has driven Madame over to town, and won't be back till
     late," said Enid, coming from her expedition to the basement in
     search of George. (George is the man-servant who "does the chores"
     and "plays hero" for the school.)

     "How can we ever get these up stairs?" asks Gertie.

     "Carry them ourselves," cried a brawny girl; "we'll all help."

     So, with a girl at each corner of each box, we struggled up
     stairs. Mine was not very heavy, but Gertie's was; and one girl
     let her corner slip, which threw us all into confusion, and in the
     midst of the hurly-burly we became aware of a majestic presence at
     the head of the stairs, and there stood--Miss Coningham, the first
     assistant. Our hearts stood still, for we had not asked
     permission; but Sallie, whom nothing overcomes, saved us.

     "Oh, Miss Coningham," she called, "_do_ come and help us;" and she
     actually stepped down and caught it as the girls were losing
     control of it, and engineered it into our sitting-room.

     You know we five Aegises have one sitting-room, with three
     bedrooms opening out of it. As she turned to go, I thought I saw
     in her face a longing to stay, and be a girl with the rest of us,
     and I said,

     "Don't go, Miss Coningham; stay and see what is in the boxes."

     "Thank you; I know you will enjoy yourselves more alone. Madame
     told me to give you five young ladies permission to have supper in
     your own room to-night."

     "Why?" we all cried. "What made her?"

     "Because it is Miss Wood's birthday."

     "My birthday!" cried Gertie, in amaze. "I didn't once think of
     it;" while the girls flew at her ears.

     "I don't see how any one could forget such a thing--do you, Miss
     Coningham?" I asked, as she stood in the door.

     "No; I could not forget mine," she said. "This is mine too."

     When I told the girls it was Miss Coningham's birthday too, they
     unanimously proposed to give her a present, and ran to their rooms
     for their purses.

     "There are just ten of us," said Enid, counting.

     "Pass round a hat," said Ida.

     "This will do," cried Sallie, seizing an India rubber shoe, and
     taking up the collection. "If you have little, give little, but if
     you've got a lot, give a good deal. Six dollars and ninety cents,"
     said Sallie, counting it. "Now what shall we get?"

     "Flowers? They fade so quickly."

     "Let's get something she can keep."

     "Well, what?"

     "A gold thimble. You know hers rolled down the register, and was
     lost."

     We agreed upon the thimble. Then Enid went to Miss Coningham, and
     gained permission for us to go down to the jeweller's. So the five
     other girls left the selection of the thimble to us, and went down
     stairs.

     "Wasn't 'Cony' good?" said Sallie. "Little did she suspect our
     object."

     "Would it be a bad idea to ask her to feast with us to-night?"

     "Not at all bad. Do you believe she'll come?"

     "Very doubtful. Who will ask Madame if we may have the feast?"

     "I," said Sallie; "my life for my country."

     We bought a beautiful gold thimble for six dollars, and spent the
     rest for flowers; then hurried home to open the boxes, and get
     everything ready before study hour.

     "What shall we do for a table-cloth?"

     "Take a fresh sheet," said Sallie.

     "Isn't there anything better?" asks Ida.

     "Positively nothing," answered Sallie, throwing a sheet at her.
     "Take this, and be thankful it isn't sheet lightning that strikes
     you. Now I start for my interview with Madame."

     "Good luck attend you! Enid, put the flowers in the centre, with a
     lemon pie at one side and a mince at the other."

     "Here is a roast chicken," I cried. "Ida, put it at one end."

     "Enid," called Gertie, "here's a duck in my box; put him opposite
     the chicken."

     "'Dido _et dux_,'" said Enid.

     "Well," answered Gertie, "I'm glad she didn't eat them all."

     Here Sallie came in, triumphant.

     "I showed her the thimble, girls, and told her all about
     everything, and she says we five and the other five and Miss
     Coningham--Elsie, she called her--can come up here right after
     prayers, and stay till ten o'clock."

     "Could anything be jollier?"

     "She says Elsie was our age when she first came here, and was as
     full of fun as we are."

     Then I found your note, saying there were _A_pples for Anna,
     _E_ggs for Enid, _G_rapes for Gertie, _I_nglish walnuts for Ida,
     and _S_ardines for Sallie. We saw how hard up you were for I's,
     but we'd rather have the nuts than anything.

     We had just got everything in order when the study bell rang. You
     can scarcely mention a "goody" that was not in one of those boxes.
     Gertie had a birthday cake with fifteen tapers on it, which we
     lighted.

     I can't begin to tell you what a jolly time we had when we came
     back up stairs. All our invitations were accepted. Miss Coningham
     was charmed with the thimble. We "toasted" all you good people at
     home who were the cause of our joy, and sent the flowers to Madame
     when our revelry was o'er.

     By-the-way, the boots are exactly right. Now, with the love and
     thanks of all the Aegises, I must close, for I haven't touched a
     lesson for to-morrow.

  Lovingly, gratefully, and thankfully yours,
  ANNA I. CLIFFORD.




THE BABY ELEPHANT.


On the 10th of this month an event occurred in Philadelphia that has
aroused universal curiosity and interest. It was the birth of a baby
elephant, which immediately became famous as being the first of his
kind, so far as is known, ever born in captivity. All other elephants
brought to this country for exhibition, or used in Eastern countries as
beasts of burden, have been captured and tamed, and it has heretofore
been regarded as an unquestioned fact that they would not breed in
captivity.

The mother of the cunning little fellow who is attracting so much
attention is a large black Asiatic elephant named Hebe, and belongs to
the Great London Circus. She is acknowledged by all the other elephants
of the circus as their queen, and they are all loyally devoted to her.
She and six other large elephants have been spending the winter in a
stable at the corner of Twenty-third Street and Ridge Avenue,
Philadelphia. Here the elephants stand in a large room, each with their
hind-legs chained to posts.

[Illustration: THE EXCITED ELEPHANTS.]

Immediately upon the birth of the little elephant the others seemed to
become crazy with joy. They had been very quiet, but they now set up the
most tremendous bellowing and trumpeting imaginable. Some of them broke
their chains, and danced about in the most grotesque manner, besides
performing all the tricks they had been taught in the circus ring. The
general excitement communicated itself to Hebe, and in a moment she
became the most frantic of them all. Snapping the chains that bound her
to the posts as though they were threads, and apparently becoming, for
the first time, aware of the presence of her baby, she seized him with
her trunk and threw him with great force, twenty yards or more, to the
opposite side of the room. He fell close beside a large stove, around
which was a railing of heavy timbers. Rushing after him, his crazy
mother beat down this railing, threw over the stove, and in her madness
would probably have killed her baby, had not her keeper, who had fled
for his life upon the first outbreak, returned with help, and attracted
her attention. With considerable difficulty she was secured and again
chained to the posts, and the other animals were also quieted. During
all the confusion the baby had stood motionless in the place to which
his mother had flung him, and had regarded the whole scene with a look
of wise solemnity such as only a baby can assume.

When quiet was restored, he became very frisky, and was willing to make
friends with everybody. He ran about with his mouth wide open, and his
little trunk pointing upward in the funniest way possible. He blundered
about here and there, running against all sorts of things, and finally
seemed overjoyed to be taken back to his mother, who has ever since
shown the greatest fondness for him. He is thirty-five inches high, and
weighs 214 pounds, so that he is about the size of a large Newfoundland
dog. He is fed by means of a nursing-bottle made of a yard of rubber
hose and a large funnel. One end of the hose is put in his mouth, and
the other is attached to the funnel, into which the keepers pour warm
milk until the baby shows that he has had enough by throwing down his
end of the tube.




PRACTICAL JOKES.

BY FRANK BELLEW.


As a general rule, practical jokes are a kind of fun that should not be
encouraged; but there are a few harmless ones which may be made the
means of a good deal of innocent merriment.

Tom Hood, who was one of the most kindly and genial of men, as well as
one of the greatest of poets, was very fond of playing little practical
jokes on members of his own family and immediate circle of intimate
friends. On one occasion, when his wife had made a magnificent English
plum-pudding, as a Christmas present for some German friends, Hood
surreptitiously got hold of it, and filled it with wooden skewers, which
he ran through in every direction, and in this condition it was sent by
the unsuspicious Mrs. Hood to her friends in Germany, who no doubt
thought English cookery a most eccentric art.

On another occasion he wrote as follows, from London, to an intimate
friend, one Lieutenant Franck, of the Prussian army:

"I also send for yourself an imitation gold-fish. It appears that there
is something in the color or taste of the gold-fish which renders it
irresistible to other fish as a bait. They are quite mad after it. It
appears to be intended to be sunk with a weight, and pulled about under
water, or else to float on the top; but they say it is taken in anyway."

[Illustration: Fig. 1.]

This wonderful bait was made of wood, and painted yellow, or covered
with gilt paper, and presented an appearance like the annexed engraving.

[Illustration: Fig. 2.]

But under this innocent exterior lurked Tom Hood's joke. The fish was
made of two pieces of wood, like Fig. 2, glued or gummed together, only
one of which was attached to the line, and on this piece was burned,
with a red-hot knitting-needle, the words, "_O, you April fool!_" Of
course, after the sportsman had dragged this about in the water for some
time, the glue melted, the loose half of the bait floated away, and when
he hauled in his line to see how things were getting along, he
discovered the inscription, and at the same time that he had been made a
_fool_ of, whether it happened to be April or not.


THE CLOCK BEWITCHED.

I was once at one of those little social gatherings which the Scotch
call a "cooky-shine," and the English a "tea-fight," where two young
ladies appeared escorted by a rustic beau (for be it known this was in
the country), who, like many beaux from both city and country, had a
very well-developed opinion of his own shrewdness and sagacity, of which
opinion he gave several rather obtrusive illustrations during the course
of the evening. This peculiarity, added to the fact that, quite early in
the festivities, he displayed an anxiety to hurry the young ladies home
in the midst of their enjoyment, made him anything but popular. The fact
was that the young man, having exhausted his limited stock of
conversation, grew bored and sleepy, and wanted to go home himself. Not
being able to accomplish this, he seated himself in an obscure corner
of the room, where he soon dropped off into a doze. Now among the
company was a little imp of a boy, a son of the hostess, who seemed to
feel himself called upon to amuse the rest of the guests. He whispered a
few words in his sister's ear, and then left the room. In about fifteen
minutes the drowsy beau woke up with a start, and asked what o'clock it
was.

"I really don't know," responded one of the ladies. "What time was it
when you went to sleep?"

"Sleep--sleep! I haven't been to sleep--'wake all the time."

"Indeed you have," chorussed the party; "nearly two hours, and saying
all sorts of things."

[Illustration: WHAT TIME IS IT?]

The youth looked blank, and rather frightened, but tried to brave it
out. "Oh, pshaw! two hours. Sleep!--why, I haven't been to sleep
ten--that's to say, I've been awake the whole time. Now we'll see." And
he arose and walked into the next room, which was rather dimly lighted,
to look at the clock. He remained there a long time, shuffling about,
and emitting sundry whiffs and snorts, and then rejoined the company,
rubbing his eyes, and rumpling his hair all over his head, with an
expression of bewilderment on his countenance which set every one
present tittering.

"All right," he said. "Guess't's 'bout time to start home."

"Oh no, not yet," answered the hostess. "We are going to have some cider
and doughnuts."

The cider and doughnuts were brought in and handed round, the sleepy
beau receiving his last. He took a good Irish bite. A pause. Something
was the matter. He pulled, he gnawed, he wrestled, he grunted, he
struggled: it was no use; that doughnut was too much for him. Suddenly,
with a quick motion worthy of the late lamented Mr. Grimaldi, he whipped
the doughnut out of his mouth and into his pocket. He thought he was
unobserved, but a roar of rustic laughter from all sides of the room
soon undeceived him. We will draw a veil over the scene, etc., etc., as
the novels say. In a few seconds his two fair charges, in charity,
proposed to go home; and they went.

Now what was this all about? I will tell you. When the young imp left
the room, as before mentioned, he slipped into the back parlor, turned
down the lights, and carried the clock off into the kitchen, where with
some Indian ink and a brush he marked on its face half a dozen extra
hands. He then replaced the clock on the mantelpiece in the parlor, and
returning to the kitchen, procured two small balls of cotton batting,
which he soaked in some batter the cook was using for doughnuts, and
these he fried till they exactly resembled the genuine article the cook
had just made. He had previously let the ladies into the secret, so that
when the sleepy beau went into the back parlor to look at the clock, as
they took care he should, they perfectly knew the bewildered frame of
mind he was in while trying to find out the time. The sister, too, while
handing round the doughnuts, managed to reserve the cotton ones for the
same gentleman.

The next day our hostess received a polite note from the discomfited
escort, thanking her for the gift of the doughnut, which he said had
been of infinite value to him, as he had given it to a neighbor's dog
which kept him awake all night, and the dog had since died. So he took
it good-naturedly, after all.




[Illustration]

THE JOLLY DOG'S PRACTICAL JOKE.


  'Twas near dinner-time, and the pudding was hot,
     Nelly, her cheeks all aglow
  (The master liked icy-cold pudding), ran out,
    And popped the dish into the snow.

  For though on that morn smiling April was born,
    A snow-heap that March left behind,
  When he hastened away, in a dark corner lay
  Of the garden, blown there by the wind.

  Singing merrily, back to the kitchen went Nell,
    When a jolly dog came up the lane.
  "Aha! something good!" and he stopped and he sniffed,
    Looked around, cocked his ears, sniffed again.

  Then, the gate being open, he boldly walked in,
    Going straight to the snowy spot where
  The dish sat a-cooling--three great gulps he gave,
    And a pudding no longer was there.

  Down the stoop flew the maid. "I must now take it in,
    For I'm sure by this time it is cool."
  Said the dog, running off, "Pray don't trouble yourself;
    _I_ have taken it in--April-fool!"




[Illustration: OUR POST-OFFICE BOX.]


  CHATTANOOGA, TENNESSEE.

     I wonder if the readers of YOUNG PEOPLE know how delightful the
     climate and surroundings of Chattanooga are. Near the base of
     Lookout Mountain, which has grown historical since the war, the
     views in all directions are magnificent, that from the point on
     the mountain being the grandest, where one can see places in seven
     different States. Chattanooga is an Indian word, meaning eagle's
     nest.

  PAUL DWIGHT MOROSS.

       *       *       *       *       *

  TRAVERSE CITY, MICHIGAN.

     I live in a lonesome country, but it is very beautiful in the
     summer. We have nice lakes and woods, and all kinds of birds.
     There is a little bird which builds such a queer nest. It is like
     a hanging cup, and so small you scarcely notice it. There are five
     white eggs, with black spots on the ends, in it. The bird is
     blackish color, with a round white spot in the middle of each
     wing. There is a bird here called grosbeak. It is very handsome,
     and a splendid singer. You can hear its clear note in the morning
     above all the rest. My sister Julia found a nest, and took out a
     male bird. It had hardly any feathers. She brought it up on bread
     and milk, and it was so tame it would sit on her finger; but one
     morning it flew away, and never came back. Perhaps some of the
     readers of YOUNG PEOPLE have tamed the little yellow-birds. Julia
     tamed one, and it was a great pet. I have a pet dove named Philip.
     He will follow me about in the woods. When he misses me, he hunts
     till he finds me. When we are eating dinner, if the door is open,
     I often hear a pat-pat on the step, and in comes Philip, nodding
     his head from side to side, and lights on my shoulder, for me to
     give him his dinner. He is now two years old. I will send you his
     portrait. I think Bertie Brown drew a first-rate picture.

  ALLIE VOORHEES.

       *       *       *       *       *

  TRAVERSE CITY, MICHIGAN.

     The first hepaticas (liverwort) that I saw this year were picked
     the first day of March. Has any one living in the same latitude
     found them earlier? The arbutus is nearly in bloom. When we were
     out in the woods the other day we saw a beautiful gray fox.

  MABEL BATES.

       *       *       *       *       *

  COLLEGE GROVE, TENNESSEE, _March 1, 1880_.

     I send you a violet, and also the earliest wild flower of this
     section, _Erigenia_, or "daughter of the early spring" [a species
     of groundsel]. We have had crocuses and daffodils ever since
     Christmas. I have lots of pets. We have nine cats. One is fourteen
     years old. And we have a shepherd dog that has a great deal of
     sense. I have three white hens--one top-knot, one plain, and one
     with pantalets. I have a chicken grave-yard, and we have funerals.
     The red and blue birds, wrens, jays, and woodpeckers, staid with
     us all winter. I found a nest of hatched partridge eggs, and the
     large ends were all picked round even, and opened like box-tops.
     We live in the woods, and I see many pretty things.

  ANNA RUCKER.

       *       *       *       *       *

     I am twelve years old. I live on the border of a large lake in the
     province of New Brunswick, Canada. Though so far north, our
     winters are often mild and pleasant. Father says it is because we
     are not far from the sea. I have been ill with acute rheumatism
     for six months past, and the weekly visits of YOUNG PEOPLE are a
     great comfort and pleasure to me, as I am mostly confined to the
     house. I found some willow "pussies" three days ago (March 4), and
     I send a few, to let you see what New Brunswick can do in this
     way.

  W. SCOTT BUTLER, Jun.

       *       *       *       *       *

  BETHANY, MISSOURI.

     I see so many little folks writing to you, I thought I would write
     too. I am eight years old, and I live where the sun goes down. I
     never saw a railroad in my life, and never went to school. Mamma
     teaches us at home. I have a cream-colored pony, and sister Grace
     has a pet lamb. She had to get a baby's nursing-bottle to raise
     the lamb with, and it is just too funny to see her feed it. It
     sucks away at the bottle as hard as ever it can, and wags its
     little tail ever so fast. We have learned nearly all we know from
     HARPER'S MAGAZINE and the BAZAR and WEEKLY, for papa and mamma
     have taken them all our lives. We could not do without the
     pictures. I wish you could see our stacks and heaps of the MONTHLY
     and the papers. When we want a good old time, we get them all out,
     and they are as good as new. We think there never was such a
     splendid paper as YOUNG PEOPLE. My sister Grace wanted to write to
     you too, but mamma said one nuisance was enough at a time.

  NELLIE BLACKBURN.

       *       *       *       *       *

  CROOKSTON, MINNESOTA.

     I borrowed HARPER'S YOUNG PEOPLE of one of my neighbors, and I
     like it so much I intend to take it as soon as I can earn money
     enough to pay for it. I am a cripple boy. I have no feet. One was
     cut off below and one above the knee, and when I move round I have
     to go on my hands. I want a pair of Newfoundland dogs for a team,
     but I can not find where I can get them. I knit a pair of mittens,
     and sold them to help pay for YOUNG PEOPLE, and now I am mending
     grain bags to earn the rest of the money. I am fond of reading,
     and feel lonesome without books and papers.

  ELMER R. BLANCHARD.

       *       *       *       *       *

  SALT LAKE, UTAH TERRITORY.

     Father wants me to tell you that he made me a telescope of
     sheet-iron as you described in the first number of YOUNG PEOPLE,
     and although my object-glass is only one and one-quarter inches in
     diameter, we can plainly see Jupiter's four moons. Jupiter itself
     appears as big as a nickel five-cent piece. We can also see the
     rings of Saturn. But when we look at anything on the earth, it is
     turned upside down. This glass gives us a great deal of pleasure.

  OLAF THOMASSEN.

       *       *       *       *       *

  TERRYVILLE, CONNECTICUT.

     My uncle caught two young gray squirrels in the woods, and brought
     them home in a cage. We gave them walnuts and chestnuts, but they
     were so cross they bit each other's tails, which when they were
     little looked more like rats' tails than squirrels'. When we let
     them out of the cage, they soon learned to go into my uncle's
     pockets after nuts. Then they would sit on his head or shoulder
     and eat them. When we gave them more than they could eat, they
     would hide them on the ground, and cover them with leaves and dry
     grass. They did it so neatly that even when we saw where they put
     them, we would have to hunt a long time to find them. When it came
     warm weather, they went back to the woods. What do squirrels live
     on in summer before the nuts are ripe?

  ANGIE B. BALDWIN.

Squirrels eat all kinds of berries, the tender twigs and bark of certain
trees, and grain. Corn fields are feasting grounds for them, as the
fresh tender stalks are as delicious food as the fully formed kernels.

       *       *       *       *       *

  CLARKSVILLE, NEBRASKA.

     I want to tell you about a ride I had the other day with papa and
     mamma. We drove out about four miles from here, to a prairie-dog
     town, where we saw hundreds of these little animals playing about
     in the sunshine. The prairie-dogs are very curious little
     creatures. They dig their holes, throwing out the earth so as to
     make quite a mound. They look very cunning from a distance,
     standing on their hind-legs. Some were near their holes, ready to
     jump in as soon as we drove near. Others, which were a good way
     off from their homes, scampered back as fast as they could. Their
     town covered about a section of land, so you can see they have
     quite a large city.

  PAUL BEARDSLEY.

       *       *       *       *       *

  BROOKLYN, NEW YORK.

     Last spring we had a pretty pair of canaries, and we raised five
     little birds. They were dear little things, and before we gave any
     of them away it was great fun to watch them play together. One was
     very light yellow, nearly white, another was dark yellow, two were
     spotted with green, and one was all very dark green. The green one
     was the prettiest of all, but it always fought for the best place
     in the cage, and pecked at all the others; but if they fought,
     they always made up after it. The yellow one was very tame, and
     would come right to our hands to eat. The lightest one died, and
     the others we gave away, but we were very sorry to part with them.

  FROGGIE.

The following was written in big printed letters:

     If you put Froggie's letter in your paper, I hope you will put
     mine in. I can't write as he can, because I am only five years
     old. I like your paper very much. Froggie reads it to me, and I
     read the pictures myself. I like that picture of the pussy.

  FROGGIE'S LITTLE BROTHER.

       *       *       *       *       *

  READING, PENNSYLVANIA.

     We were very glad to see that story of Colonel Gregg in No. 19,
     for he was one of our ancestors. We have a parrot from the Isle of
     Pines, which seems to be a very smart bird. I would like to know
     if there is any particular way by which we can teach it to talk.

  DAVID M. GREGG.

       *       *       *       *       *

  KANSAS.

     I live on the prairie between the Arkansas and Smoky Hill rivers.
     My nearest playmate is a mile and a half away, and I am very glad
     when YOUNG PEOPLE comes. Can you tell me who has been considered
     the most famous man in the world?

  LULU A. G.

There have been so many "famous men," that it would be difficult to
place any one among them at the head of the list.

       *       *       *       *       *

     I am ten years old, and I live in Dickinson County, Kansas. We
     have three dogs--Queen, Cetchum, and Custer--and we have use for
     them all. Pa uses Queen to hunt prairie-chickens with, and Queen
     and Cetchum hunt rabbits by themselves. We have gray rabbits and
     jack rabbits. The jack rabbits are very large, and have long ears.
     Pa says they are very much like the English hare. We have a great
     many peaches and grapes and water-melons, and there are bad men
     and boys that sometimes steal them. In the summer I tie Queen in
     the peach orchard every night. If she hears anything, she barks
     very loud, and then Custer runs to help her. If any man is there,
     he is sure to be bitten. Custer is an English bull-dog, and a
     great fighter. He can whip a wolf. We have a great many wolves
     here, and they are so bold that if we did not keep dogs, they
     would come round the house in the daytime, and steal young pigs
     and lambs and chickens.

  SIDNEY B. PRAY.

       *       *       *       *       *

  TAYLORSVILLE, TEXAS.

     I like YOUNG PEOPLE very much. It gives a great deal of
     instruction. I live on the banks of the San Gabriel River, which
     has some very large fish in it. I read all the letters in the
     Post-office Box. I liked Gertrude Balch's letter very much, and I
     like to draw the "Wiggles."

  J. L. PAXTON.

       *       *       *       *       *

  FAIRFIELD (STONE P. O.), PICKENS COUNTY, ALABAMA.

     I would like very much to exchange some of our native flower seeds
     for flower seeds of other localities with any of the "Young
     People."

  MAMIE JONES.

       *       *       *       *       *

  GALT, CALIFORNIA.

     Will any little girl press me some specimens of Eastern flowers?
     If she will, I will press her some of our floral beauties here in
     California, and send them to her.

  GENEVIEVE.

If Genevieve will send her full address, no doubt some little girl in
the Eastern States will be glad to exchange pressed flowers with her.

       *       *       *       *       *

  NEW BRIGHTON.

     Can you tell me the longest word in the English language?

  K. POST.

Valetudinarianism is a long word. Can any correspondent find a longer
one?

       *       *       *       *       *

  BUFFALO PAPER-MILL, NORTH CAROLINA.

     Would you kindly give a description of the animal called drill. I
     would like to know the country of its nativity, and any other
     information in regard to it. I have tried to find something about
     it, and have failed.

  WILLIAM LIDDY.

The drill (_Papio leucophæus_) is a large baboon, and one of the ugliest
of its family. It has a heavy thick body covered with coarse
grayish-brown hair, a large head with a hideous black face, stout clumsy
legs, and a short stubbed tail. It lives in the woods and rocky regions
along the west coast of Africa. In Guinea it is so abundant as to be a
terror to man and beast, as its ferocity and strength render it a
dangerous foe. Great herds of the drill, when driven by hunger,
sometimes attack the negro villages, and have been known to kill women
and children. Specimens of this savage creature have been captured and
placed in zoological gardens in France and England, but all efforts to
tame it have been in vain.

       *       *       *       *       *

REBECCA H.--Your puzzle was not noticed, because you failed to send the
answer. Meanwhile, one with the same solution has been received, and has
already been printed. It is, therefore, too late to make any use of
yours, which was very pretty, and neatly constructed.

       *       *       *       *       *

C. B. F.--Grinnell Land is within the arctic circle, and is not claimed
by any nation.

       *       *       *       *       *

S. H. M.--The letters in the corners of English postage stamps indicate
the year when the stamp was printed.

       *       *       *       *       *

J. M. T.--Full directions for boat-building would occupy too much space
in our Post-office Box, but if you go to any good boat-builder, he will
no doubt give you the desired information.

       *       *       *       *       *

F. S.--The custom of Easter eggs is very ancient, and it is not known
when it first arose. There are many pretty legends in regard to it, but
all are without foundation.

       *       *       *       *       *

Favors are acknowledged from Allie B. W., Hermann H. Davis, Emily W.
Berry, Mamie W. Howe, Florence C., Minnie Shepard, Henry B. Teal, J. D.
Burroughs, Charles H. MacHenry, Fannie Wright, Ella Warren, George B.
Wendell, Lily Jones, Edith, Fannie C. Shuford, Stella and Fannie, W. K.
Grier, Mira K. Abbott, George Russell, J. A. P., Josie B., Eddie Hunter,
Daisy Brainard, F. W. Fenner, Harry Robertson, Willie Hughes, "Silly,"
Vinie Summy, Herbert Meacham, Willie H. C., Willie Ellis, "Subscriber,"
Lizzie L., Arthur Brumbach, Arthur E. T., Arthur Walcott, "Little
Agnes," Frankie Pratt, Louis C. S., G. R. A., Bessie Saunders.

       *       *       *       *       *

Correct answers to puzzles are received from Eddie D. Raymond, Marion E.
Norcross, Birdie A. R., Robbie Reynolds, Harry Van A., S. G. Rosenbaum,
Alfie Welden, R. W. Dawson, William and Mary L., H. K. P., Louise
Nichols, A. H. Ellard, Angie Baldwin, Fannie Reeves, Alfred Opdyke,
Alma, Stella B., Sarah Zelnicker, "North Star," Istalina Beach, Minnie
Williams, Paul Beardsley, C. B. Howard, B. L. Townsend, Florence
Stilwell, S. Birdie D., Daisy, Walter Crull, G. C. MacIntosh, G. Vasa
Edwards, Cass Shelby, Alex and Lewis Mack, Mabel H. B., L. Fobes.

       *       *       *       *       *

PUZZLES FROM YOUNG CONTRIBUTORS.

No. 1.

ENIGMA.

  My first is in left, but not in came.
  My second is in fire, but not in flame.
  My third is in flour, but not in lard.
  My fourth is in soft, but not in hard.
  My fifth is in blue, but not in pink.
  My sixth is in water, but not in ink.
  My seventh is in wren, but not in bird.
  My whole is a game of which you have heard.

  MARGARET.

       *       *       *       *       *

No. 2.

DOUBLE ACROSTIC.

To wither. A proper name. A house of entertainment. Something every city
is full of. Annually. Answer--Two flowers.

  M. L.

       *       *       *       *       *

No. 3.

WORD SQUARE.

First, crystallized vapor. Second, an appellation. Third, a foreboding.
Fourth, a part of the verb to go.

  STELLA.

       *       *       *       *       *

No. 4.

NUMERICAL CHARADE.

  I am composed of 13 letters.
  My 10, 8, 4, 7 is a manner of walking.
  My 3, 6, 5, 2, 1 is a fruit.
  My 10, 12, 11, 13, 9 is a color.
  My whole is a common Latin phrase.
  Also the name of a flowering plant.

  W. F. B.

       *       *       *       *       *

No. 5.

DIAMOND PUZZLE.

A vowel. An insect. A violent passion. A useful plant. A consonant.

  H. N. T.

       *       *       *       *       *

No. 6.

ENIGMA.

  My first is in wrong, but not in right.
  My second is in nymph, but not in sprite.
  My third is in Willie, but not in Ann.
  My fourth is in tin, but not in can.
  My fifth is in tinkle, but not in bell.
  My sixth is in ill, but not in well.
  My seventh is in see, but not in look.
  My eighth is in read, but not in book.
  My whole is the name of a poet.

  F. W.

       *       *       *       *       *

ANSWERS TO PUZZLES IN NO. 19.

No. 1.

Constantinople.

No. 2.

  R   ea   M
  A  die   U
  P reache R
  H  agga  I
  A lcoho  L
  E   ar   L
  L  ared  O

  Raphael, Murillo.

No. 3.

Bread.

No. 4.

  W A R M
  A R E A
  R E A L
  M A L E

No. 5.

Trifles often lead to serious results.

No. 6.

      S
    U T E
  S T O R K
    E R A
      K

Charade on page 248--Offend.

       *       *       *       *       *

THE SOAPBOXTICON.

We have received numerous letters from correspondents about the
Soapboxticon. Some report great success in making it, while others have
been unable to make it work right. To the unsuccessful ones we would say
that you probably do not remove your lens box far enough from the muslin
screen, your outer box not being quite long enough. In this case, you
can move the lens box out of the other box as far back as you please.
The lens we use is about two and a half inches in diameter, but the size
is of little consequence. The main conditions are to keep the light well
to one side, that no direct rays pass through the lens to illuminate the
screen, and to concentrate as bright a light as possible on the picture,
and on that alone. There should be no other light in the room when the
experiment is tried, and the picture should be very clear and distinct.
Two double convex lenses placed one at each end of a tube of card-board
will act better than one lens alone.




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  Confectioner,
  78 MADISON STREET, CHICAGO.




=KEEP YOUR BIRD= IN HEALTH AND SONG by using =SINGER'S PATENT GRAVEL
PAPER=. Sold by Druggists and Bird Dealers.

Depot, 582 Hudson St., N. Y.




FOR 1880. JUST OUT.

[Illustration: SPALDING'S BASE BALL GUIDE]

The highest authority on Base Ball. The only book published containing
the official =League Playing Rules=, under which every club in America
plays; also players' averages, illustrations on curve pitching, batting,
&c. Every lover of base ball should have a copy. Mailed, postpaid, upon
receipt of 10c. =A. G. SPALDING & BROS., Publishers, Chicago, Ill.=




OUR CHILDREN'S SONGS.

       *       *       *       *       *

Our Children's Songs. Illustrated. 8vo, Ornamental Cover, $1.00.

       *       *       *       *       *

The best compilation of songs for the children that we have ever
seen.--_New Bedford Mercury._

This is a large collection of songs for the nursery, for childhood, for
boys and for girls, and sacred songs for all. The range of subjects is a
wide one, and the book is handsomely illustrated.--_Philadelphia
Ledger._

It contains some of the most beautiful thoughts for children that ever
found vent in poesy, and beautiful "pictures to match."--_Chicago
Evening Journal._

An excellent anthology of juvenile poetry, covering the whole range of
English and American literature.--_Independent_, N. Y.

Songs for the nursery, songs for childhood, for girlhood, boyhood,
and sacred songs--the whole melody of childhood and youth bound in
one cover. Full of lovely pictures; sweet mother and baby faces;
charming bits of scenery, and the dear old Bible story-telling
pictures.--_Churchman_, N. Y.

       *       *       *       *       *

Published by HARPER & BROTHERS, New York.

HARPER & BROTHERS _will send the above work by mail, postage prepaid, to
any part of the United States, on receipt of the price_.




CHILDREN'S

PICTURE-BOOKS.

     Square 4to, about 300 pages each, beautifully printed on Tinted
     Paper, embellished with many Illustrations, bound in Cloth, $1.50
     per volume.

The Children's Picture-Book of Sagacity of Animals.

     With Sixty Illustrations by HARRISON WEIR.

The Children's Bible Picture-Book.

     With Eighty Illustrations, from Designs by STEINLE, OVERBECK,
     VEIT, SCHNORR, &c.

The Children's Picture Fable-Book.

     Containing One Hundred and Sixty Fables. With Sixty Illustrations
     by HARRISON WEIR.

The Children's Picture-Book of Birds.

     With Sixty-one Illustrations by W. HARVEY.

The Children's Picture-Book of Quadrupeds and other Mammalia.

     With Sixty-one Illustrations by W. HARVEY.

       *       *       *       *       *

Published by HARPER & BROTHERS, New York.

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




Old Books for Young Readers.

       *       *       *       *       *

Arabian Nights' Entertainments.

     The Thousand and One Nights; or, The Arabian Nights'
     Entertainments. Translated and Arranged for Family Reading, with
     Explanatory Notes, by E. W. LANE. 600 Illustrations by Harvey. 2
     vols., 12mo, Cloth, $3.50.

Robinson Crusoe.

     The Life and Surprising Adventures of Robinson Crusoe, of York,
     Mariner. By DANIEL DEFOE. With a Biographical Account of Defoe.
     Illustrated by Adams. Complete Edition. 12mo, Cloth, $1.50.

The Swiss Family Robinson.

     The Swiss Family Robinson; or, Adventures of a Father and Mother
     and Four Sons on a Desert Island. Illustrated. 2 vols., 18mo,
     Cloth, $1.50.

     The Swiss Family Robinson--Continued: being a Sequel to the
     Foregoing. 2 vols., 18mo, Cloth, $1.50.

Sandford and Merton.

     The History of Sandford and Merton. By THOMAS DAY. 18mo, Half
     Bound, 75 cents.

       *       *       *       *       *

Published by HARPER & BROTHERS, New York.

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




[Illustration: Fig. 1.]

[Illustration: Fig. 2.]

[Illustration: Fig. 3.]

MISFITS.


Bob has discovered another amusement. The other evening he suddenly
commanded me to "draw a head" on a piece of paper that he placed before
me.

"Don't let me see it, nor anybody. Now fold it back, and leave a little
bit of the neck showing. Now I'll draw the body."

Which he did, and again folded the paper.

"Now, papa, you draw the legs."

Papa obediently took the pencil, and had his turn at the paper.

"Now, Mamie, you name it. Call it after somebody you know, if you like."

So Mamie named it Miss Foot, in honor of her school-teacher, the most
stately of maiden ladies. Then Bob unfolded the paper, and displayed to
us a most comical mixture of flesh and fowl.

"More like a _misfit_, than _Miss Foot_," said papa.

"There! that's what I'll call 'em," exclaimed Bob--"_misfits_. That's
just what they are, you know--misfits."

"She's a duck, anyway," said Mamie.

"Looks more like a goose," said Bob.

We afterward tried another, in which Mamie had a hand with the pencil. I
named it after myself, and was rewarded for my vanity by finding "Nelly"
a more ungainly object than even "Miss Foot."

In making "Misfits" you must remember to leave a small piece of one
picture projecting into the other, in order to have them join properly.
You will also find it better to draw them on a larger scale than the
pictures we give.




CHARADE.


  A nimble spring, a noiseless tread,
  A playful poise of the restless head,
  A sleepy song of sweet content,
  While slyly on schemes of mischief bent--
  'Tis thus the days of my _first_ are spent.

  To do my _second_ is surely human;
  They say the fault was first with a woman.
  'Tis a little word, but its power was great,
  To change the course of a happy fate.

  My _third_ is seen in many a land,
  Where ancient temples ruined stand,
  Like a grim sentry, placed before,
  To guard an open palace door.

  My _whole_, with slow and measured grace,
  Among the lowly takes its place:
  Nor dreams its future yet shall be
  A wondrous thing of mystery.




[Illustration]

SOLUTION OF CHICKEN PUZZLE.


The Chicken Puzzle given on page 216 of HARPER'S YOUNG PEOPLE, No. 17,
has proved too difficult for any of our readers to solve, and not a
single correct answer to it has been sent us. The puzzle was to make a
chicken out of an orange with four cuts of the scissors and the prick of
a pin. In Fig. 1 of the above diagram the dotted lines on the stalk and
the white lines on the orange show where the cuts with the scissors are
to be made, and Fig. 2 shows the pieces put together, and the chicken
complete.




[Illustration: LITTLE TOMMY'S NIGHTMARE, AFTER SPENDING AN UNUSUALLY
BUSY DAY KITE-FLYING.]





End of Project Gutenberg's Harper's Young People, March 30, 1880, by Various



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