The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Pansy Magazine, November 1887, by Various

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Title: The Pansy Magazine, November 1887

Author: Various

Editor: Pansy
        Mrs. G. R. Alden

Release Date: August 28, 2016 [EBook #52909]

Language: English

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*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE PANSY MAGAZINE, NOVEMBER 1887 ***




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The Pansy, November 1887

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In every household old-fashioned and worn jewelry and plate accumulate, becoming “food” for burglars or petty thieves.

If the readers of Babyland will get out their old gold, old silver, old jewelry, and send it by mail or express to me, I will send them by return mail a certified check for full value thereof.

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[1a]

Farm-Life for Young People, by Ik Marvel (Donald G. Mitchell), Out-of-Door Papers by John Burroughs, together with Walking, Rowing, and The Training of Dogs, three papers by Louise Imogen Guiney, will form a delightful phase of the coming volume.

A Painter of Child-Life. (First Art Paper.) A beautiful art-paper for children, by the English art-writer, T. Letherbrow, about the English painter, Warwick Brookes, who was once a little “tear-boy” in the Manchester cotton-mills, and afterwards rose to great eminence in art. This remarkable article is to have twenty exquisite illustrations of child-life from photographs of the artist’s paintings and drawings.

Daniel Webster in New Hampshire. (First Historical Article.) Reminiscences, anecdotes, and gossip about the great statesman, given to the author, Miss Amanda B. Harris, by Webster’s early friends and neighbors in New Hampshire, or gathered from unpublished letters. With portraits from life-photographs, and many sketches.

About Rosa Bonheur. (Second Art Paper.) This charming account of the wonderful French woman who has painted the finest animal pictures since Landseer has been written for Wide Awake by Rosa Bonheur’s friend of many years, the American artist, Henry Bacon. The picture of her in studio dress painting the famous “Head of a Lion” was drawn by Mr. Bacon; the portrait of her at eighteen is from a painting by her brother, Auguste Bonheur. Full of anecdote and with many pictures.

The Story of Boston Common, by Edward Everett Hale, is now complete in MS., and the long-expected series, touching much of early American history, will be given, in three or more chapters, with historic and modern pictures, during the coming summer.[3a]

The Medal Children of the Renaissance. (Third Art Paper.) An art article for young readers by Frances H. Throop about some high-born children of the fifteenth century, whose portraits were sculptured or cast in medallions; these lovely medals are preserved in European museums and collections, being regarded as precious art-treasures; and Miss Throop has made casts and drawings from the originals to illustrate her paper.

An Old House on Royal Street. (Second Historical Article.) This delightful paper about old New Orleans and early Louisiana by Mrs. M. E. M. Davis (author of In War-Times at La Rose Blanche), written in the old house that was General Jackson’s headquarters, abounds in reminiscences of Indian, French, Spanish and Creole days, of Jackson, Galvez, the pirate Lafitte, Bienville, Pere Antoine, Don Almonaster, and other famous men of the Southwest. Full of portraits.

Elbridge S. Brooks will contribute a series of practical papers for young people embodying suggestions helpful to them in their desire to get on in the world. The papers will be a departure from the customary “Letters to Young Men.” They will be, rather, in the spirit of appreciation and comradeship, and will endeavor to indicate and open toward the possibilities that exist for the boys and girls of America in these busy days that are merging into the twentieth century.

For Business Boys will be pithy, unforgettable, lifting words, straight from man to boy, as felt and said by a man whose business writing is even better known than his name—a companion paper to Mr. Brooks’ series.[4a]

Among Sir Walter Ralegh’s Homes. (Third Historical Article.) Sir Walter is everybody’s hero, and Mrs. Raymond Blathwayt has written a charming paper about his birthplace and his young days, and she has sent over many beautiful photographs of his old haunts made expressly for Wide Awake; the manuscript itself has been prepared under the friendly supervision of Dr. Brushfield the English antiquarian and great Ralegh authority.

Typical Children of England, by Julia Cartwright, will be a notable article, illustrated with most charming pictures of English children of the present day, all from life studies—the aristocratic type, the peasant type, the athletic, the spiritual, etc.

Brilliant additions to the preceding serials and specialties will include ballads, poems, and the following

Further papers about Famous Pets are in preparation; Tangles will have new novelties; The Contributors and the Children, and other departments, will grow in interest; the artistic features will continue to delight young and old alike.

Now is the time to subscribe, and to obtain valuable Premiums by getting your friends to subscribe also.

Wide Awake, in spite of unprecedented attractions, will still be $2.40 a year.
Address orders and inquiries to

D. LOTHROP COMPANY, Boston.

[5a]

The twelve numbers of Babyland for 1888 will be like twelve Christmas stockings stuffed full of delights—the choicest nuts, candies and raisins of jingledom and storyland; and there will be three special big delicious bon-bons besides.

Babyland will be full of pictures, too, big and beautiful, little and funny; and it will be printed in large clear black letters, as usual, on strong fine paper, and have pretty pink covers. All sent by mail for 50 cents a year.

This magazine for youngest readers will be even more entertaining in text and pictures than in the past, and in the stories will be hidden bits of wisdom as well. There will be seventy-five full-page pictures.

Besides these serials and series, there will be a treasury of short stories and verses, bright and interesting, and full of pictures as a Christmas pudding with plums. The best magazine for home and school reading. $1.00 a year by mail.

The Pansy Society will have a special serial. All departments will be continued, some new features added, and stories, poems and pictures will have ample place. Mailed for $1.00 a year.

Address all orders and inquiries to

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[6a]

By Charles R. Talbot. 12mo, cloth, $1.50.

An escapade of a bright young fellow who “shipped” for a yachting cruise in vacation.

The story has nothing to do with the question whether it pays to know one’s work and do it and “be,” as the phrase goes, “a gentleman”; but, if the reader chooses to think of them, he will find plenty of stimulant.

By Elbridge S. Brooks, author of The American Indian, In Leisler’s Times, In No-Man’s Land, and others. 12mo, cloth, $1.50.

An historic tale connected with a holiday in every month of the year.

There is the snapdragon Christmas quarrel of James I. of England with his sons about the release of Sir Walter Raleigh; a New Year’s meeting of Margery More with Henry VIII; how William Penn got his motto “Be true, be leal, be constant,” on St. Valentine’s Day; how the Earl of Kildare kept St. Patrick’s; the wise men of Gotham fool King John on the first of April; and so on through the months.

These stories out of history practise one in the times they take him back to.

By Mrs. G. R. Alden (Pansy, author of the hundred Pansy books and editor of The Pansy magazine). 12mo, cloth, 1.50.

12 mo, cloth, illustrated, each, 1.25.

3 vols., 12mo, each 1.25.

[7a]

18 volumes, 12mo, cloth, 1.50.

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• Oliver Wendell Holmes. By E. E. Brown.
• James Russell Lowell. By E. E. Brown.
• Henry Wadsworth Longfellow. By W. S. Kennedy.
• John Greenleaf Whittier. By W. S. Kennedy.

To review their lives and work and catch the spirit of both in 300 or 400 pages of easy type is to give the bones of biography; which is all nine tenths of us have the time to read; and the other tenth are glad of the bones before they come to the more elaborate whole.

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• Charles XII, King of Sweden. By M. de Voltaire.
• Charles Dickens. By P. A. Hanaford.
• Benjamin Franklin. By Jeremiah Chaplin.
• Horace Greeley. By William Cornell.
• James A. Garfield. By E. E. Brown.
• Ulysses S. Grant. By E. E. Brown.
• Amos Lawrence. By William R. Lawrence.
• Abraham Lincoln. By P. A. Hanaford.
• David Livingstone. By John S. Roberts.
• Lord Nelson. By Robert Southey.
• Israel Putnam. By I. N. Tarbox.
• George Peabody. By P. A. Hanaford.
• Charles Sumner. By J. and J. D. Chaplin.
• Bayard Taylor. By Russel H. Conwell.
• Daniel Webster. By Joseph Banvard.
• Henry Wilson. By Elias Nason.

Edited by Pansy. First and second series, 4to, boards, each .75.

First and second series. Edited by Pansy. 4to, boards, each .75.

By Anna F. Burnham. 4to, boards, .75.

By Anna F. Burnham. 4to, boards .75.

By Margaret Sidney. Illustrated, 12mo, cloth, 1.50.

By Margaret Sidney. Illustrated, 16mo, cloth, 1.00.

By Margaret Sidney. 12mo, cloth, 1.25.

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4to, boards, 1.50; cloth, 2.25.

4to, boards, 1.50; cloth, 2.25.

4to, boards, gilt edges, 1.50; cloth, 2.25. By John G. Whittier.

[8a]

4 vols, 12mo, cloth, each, 1.00.

By Abel B. Berry. A New Hampshire historical story of Indian times.

By Belle C. Greene. A story of family life in one of the shut-in nooks of New Hampshire, Sherburne “Holler,” where souls are sometimes out of all proportion to their surroundings.

For children, and for those who love children. From the German of Madame Spyri by Lucy Wheelock. Five delightful tales of present life in Switzerland.

A story for children and those who love children. From the German of Madame Spyri by Lucy Wheelock. The pleasant and unpleasant people and circumstances somehow fall together naturally to work up a little earthly paradise, the delights of which in no way depend on accidental surroundings but on generosity of soul.

Three instructive and interesting books by Mrs. A. E. Anderson-Maskell. 12mo, cloth, each 1.00.

• Children with Animals.
• Children with Birds.
• Children with Fishes.

4 volumes, 16mo, 3.00.

What a wise physician said to a frail young girl and her mother together, and what the gymnasium is good for.

Three baccalaureate sermons.

A competent man’s series of talks on emergencies. Much in a little book.

Eighty-three successful men say what they think of the means of success and avoidance of failure. With these opinions the author makes this book—a little book with a great deal in it.

Two delightful Swiss stories. Madame Spyri.

A short treatise on the hygiene of alcohol.

[1]

THE CAT THAT COULD OPEN DOORS.

[2]

“WE TWELVE GIRLS.”

I  SHALL have to begin the story for you, or you would never understand. It happened that the twelve girls in Mr. Shepard’s Bible class were very nearly of an age; were class-mates in day school, as well as on Sundays, and were very fond of one another.

They lived in different parts of the country, but were gathered in Clayville at boarding-school.

It came to pass that on this year of which I write, they were to be widely scattered; only one was to return to the school in the fall. It was because of this fact that the thought grew up, out of which grows my story. On the last Sabbath before they separated, Mr. Shepard gave to each a tiny book of texts; one for each week, with the hint that he would like them to live by those words in the coming year.

This set them to thinking and to talking. After many plans, it was finally agreed that they should each select a month in which to write a letter that should give some account of an experience connected with one of the verses for that month. These letters were to be passed by mail from one member of the class to another until each had read them; and I, being a particular friend of several of the girls, have the privilege of reading them, and of making a copy for you, my Blossoms.

Cora Stevens had the month of November, and, without more introduction, I give you her letter:

A THANKSGIVING DINNER.

THERE are four of us young people at home: first I, who am sixteen, then there is a long gap, and next comes Katie, who is eight, and Bessie, who is six, and last of all baby Harry, who is not yet two. But we were all a year younger when what I mean to tell you of happened, for that was a year ago.

I spoke of Katie and Bessie and Harry and myself as the young people, because I think I am rather too old to be called a child, and I didn’t know how else to put it, but I don’t at all mean to call father and mother old. It is true father has a great many gray streaks in his hair, but I think that is more from care than from age.

It makes me sad, however, very sad, to see father’s hair changing color; but when I speak of it, he only laughs and says: “The whites are gaining the ascendency, and the aborigines becoming extinct.”

Father and mother have not looked like themselves since the summer mother was so ill. That was the most dreadful period of my life, I am sure. For a long time we thought she couldn’t recover. She was ill, of course, to begin with, and then the expense of having a doctor and nurse preyed on her mind and made against her. I really believe mother minded that more than the pain she suffered! At one time she got so nervous with thinking of it, that she said Dr. May’s visits did her more harm than good, and declared she wouldn’t see him again; but Dr. Armstrong, our minister, happened to come in just then, and he soon reasoned her out of all that and made her see things differently.

There couldn’t possibly be a nicer minister than Dr. Armstrong,—I can’t begin to say how much I love him; better, indeed, than anybody in the world, outside of home, except a dear friend, Miss Judith Hepburn. Miss Judith lives next door to us; she is old and very poor; she has, in fact, nothing in the world but the house she lives in, and so she occupies only one of the rooms on the first floor, and lives on the rent from the others. But Miss Judith is as happy as if she possessed all this world has to offer, and happier, too, for that matter, and this[5] is because she is such a true Christian. “Whatever befalls us is good,” she says, “whether it comes in the shape of prosperity or of adversity, because everything is bestowed by a loving Hand.”

AMUSING BABY HARRY.

I forgot to say, all this while, that my name is Annie—Annie Gray—but Miss Judith never calls me anything but “Martha.” She commenced this when mother was ill, because I kept so busy, and perhaps, too, because I was “troubled about many things,” for indeed I was all during her illness, and for a long time after, too, for the debt we owed to the doctor and nurse hung like a black cloud over the household. It is different with some people, but debt has always seemed a very serious evil to us. I believe father has dreaded it almost more than anything else, and up to mother’s illness, he had always avoided it; but the demands which sickness makes are very great, and can’t be easily disregarded.

Ah! how often I have heard father say: “Owe no man anything,” after which he would always add, “whether this is a Divine command,[6] or only loving counsel I cannot say, but, in either case, I shall not willingly disregard it.”

Well, it was right funny, but soon after mother’s illness, Dr. Armstrong commenced his Friday evening lectures to the congregation “On Secular Matters,” as he said in his notice. Father took me to the first one, and I couldn’t help giving his hand a squeeze when he gave out the subject, “Debts: How They are Made, and How They May be Paid.” I can’t remember the words he used, which is a pity, but Dr. Armstrong’s words, as well as his thoughts, are forcible, but I know the sense of it all was that debts are generally commenced in a small way, little by little, little by little, they are added one to the other, till presently an account is presented to us of such overwhelming proportions that we despair of ever wiping it out. “But I trust,” he added, “that none of my friends who find themselves in this unhappy situation will give way for a moment to a feeling of discouragement. Step by step have we been led into trouble; let us retrace our way in like manner, step by step. Begin from this moment a system of judicious retrenchment; lay aside sums, never mind how trifling, toward the liquidation of your debt, and little by little it will melt away, till, almost unconsciously to yourself, it has disappeared, and you, again a free man, ‘can look the whole world in the face.’”

“Ah, that was practical! That was what I needed!” said father, as we came out after the lecture was over, “and I, for one, shall not ‘approve the doctrine and immediately practice the contrary.’ No; from this very moment I shall begin to retrench and put by. Ah, Annie, ‘a word in season,’ how good it is! I was almost ready to despair till now.”

And that was the beginning of our saving. First, coffee was given up; mother always drank tea, and so no one was inconvenienced by that but father; then butter was dispensed with, and the cheapest meat and vegetables in the market were selected, and mother decided that so many things were unnecessary about our clothes, that Katie declared after a while mother would think we could do without buttons on our dresses. But my happy part of the day, during all this anxious time, was the twilight when there was no work for me to do and I could run in and sit by Miss Judith’s bright little fire and talk over things with her. It was on one of these evenings, after Miss Judith’s usual greeting of, “Well, Martha, how has the work come on to-day?” that I said, “Indeed, Miss Judith, I wish I were not such a ‘Martha,’ and that I might ‘choose the better part,’ like Mary. But then, what can I do? Wouldn’t it be wrong for me to throw things on mother when she isn’t strong, and don’t you think our Saviour would think so, too? Then, besides, mother would have to be a ‘Martha,’ for the work must be done. I am sure it is all very puzzling to me, anyway.”

“I do not wonder that you say so, dear,” said Miss Judith, “for older heads than yours have puzzled over the same question, and certain it is that were it not for the ‘Marthas’ in the world the whole system of society would come to a stand-still. But, then, Annie, we are told that Martha was ‘cumbered with serving’; she allowed her work, it would seem, to absorb her faculties to the exclusion of other and more important things; we need not do that, need we? Has not each one of us, even the busiest among us, leisure sufficient to consecrate his work to God in prayer, and ask His blessing upon it, and His help in it? Then, my child,” she continued, “observe the words of our Saviour, ‘Mary has chosen the better part’; that is better than Martha, but perhaps there is a ‘better part,’ still, or the best part, in which labor and worship are united, in which, while ‘not slothful in business,’ we are still ‘fervent in spirit serving the Lord.’ This would seem to me the best part, and surely the best example is that of the blessed Saviour Himself, who ‘came not to be ministered to, but to minister,’ who ‘went about doing good,’ and ‘followed up days of toil with nights of prayer.’ Yes, my dear, the necessity of serving is evidently laid upon you, and you have not the choice of your part in life, but the manner in which you act your part is within your power. Don’t forget, dear child, that you ‘serve the Lord Christ,’ and ‘whatsoever you do, do it heartily as unto Him.’ He has taken a journey into a far country now, but he will come again to inspect your work; be faithful, dear Annie, and watch and pray.”

That little talk with Miss Judith did me real[7] good. My little talks with her always do, and mother says that she is the greatest possible comfort to her, for she shows her how useful one may be, even where one has only sympathy and counsel to bestow; and father says that there is a healing and strengthening power in her words, which is far better than a gift of silver and gold, for it enables you to “rise up and walk” under the burden of life.

The children certainly did bear the privations we underwent well, but Katie said to me privately one night, “I never did want something good to eat as badly in my life. I am real glad Thanksgiving Day is so near.” But when the day before Thanksgiving came, and mother asked if I should get anything different for dinner next day, father shook his head with such a decided “no” that there was nothing more to be said, but it was undoubtedly a change; we had never known what it was not to have turkey and pudding then. I was most grieved, however, at the thought of not having my usual present for Miss Judith. I had always, on that day, carried her in her dinner, and on the waiter a five dollar bill; but as I went up stairs at night, father slipped five dollars into my hand, saying, “This is for Miss Judith, Annie. We must not forget, in our efforts to retrench, the debt we owe our Heavenly Father.”

That was enough to put me in a proper frame for the next day, even if I had not already had sufficient to be thankful for. I had quite made up my mind that mother was to go to church, and let me mind Harry, but there was a great deal of persuading necessary to get her up to the point. However, I succeeded at last, and after they were all gone and I had washed up the breakfast things, Master Harry began to show symptoms of sleepiness, so I tucked him in his little cradle, and began rocking him to and fro, singing all the while one of Miss Judith’s favorite hymns:—

Over and over I sang it, till at last the white lids closed, and I was getting up softly to slip away, when ting-a-ling! went the door-bell, with such a sound through the house that Harry stirred, then opened his blue eyes to their fullest extent, and I was obliged to get him quiet again before answering the bell. When at last I did go down, lo! not a creature was to be seen: only a hamper-basket covered with a white cloth with a paper pinned on top, on which was written: “For Mr. Gray; from a friend.”

It was just as much as I could do to get the basket into the kitchen, and then, oh! the good things that met my eyes. First of all, a turkey ready dressed, then a roll of golden butter, then several jars of sausage-meat and jelly, then a bunch of celery, and last a great iced cake. This completed the contents, but no; as I lifted out the lower cloth there lay a sealed envelope directed, as the basket had been, to father. This I laid aside till his return, but what to do about the other things was puzzling. They are clearly intended for father’s Thanksgiving dinner, I thought, but unless the turkey is put to roast right away it won’t be done in time. Shall I, or shall I not? I said to myself. Then I remembered how feeble dear mother looked when she set out; how she feared the services would be too much for her strength. Yes, I said decidedly, by way of answering my doubts, a warm nourishing dinner will be just what she needs, and so, without more ado, I set to work. The baby (bless his little heart!) was real good, and let me, get well “under way” before he waked up. There was no keeping the secret of the dinner, however, when the front door was once entered, for the savory odor of the roasting turkey told the tale at once, and the whole party hurried into the kitchen to find out what it meant.

“O, father!” I said, when the exclamations over the first part of my recital had sufficiently subsided to admit of my getting in a word, “there was a letter for you in the basket, too.”

“This will give us the name of the donor,” said he, as he opened it. But, no indeed, there was no name inside, only some notes neatly folded. “Five, ten, fifteen, twenty, twenty-five dollars,” said father, counting them out on the table. “God be praised for all His mercies,[8] and God bless the giver!” said he, fervently, while mother turned away to get Miss Judith’s dinner ready, and hide her tears, for poor mother was actually crying.

“Take this, too, Annie,” said father, putting another five on the one already lying on the waiter, when at last it was ready for me to take in. Of course I had to stop and tell Miss Judith the wonderful news about the basket, and when I got back again mother was putting the last dish on the table; then, going to our places, we stood with bowed heads while father said the grace I had always been accustomed to hear, but which seemed to have gained new meaning and beauty,—

“Supply the wants of others, O Lord, and give us grateful hearts, for Christ’s sake.”

We never knew the secret of that Thanksgiving basket, nor did we ever inquire into it, but we all had a notion that Dr. Armstrong could have thrown light upon the subject if he had chosen to.

TRYING THEIR NEW KNIVES.

[9]

THE BABY THAT’S NEVER CROSS.

[10]

A SEVENFOLD TROUBLE.

MARGARET threw an old shawl over her head and went out the side door. This had been a hard day. Weston had been very cross, and insisted upon having her run a great many errands for him, some of them unnecessary.

This, too, was the first day of the fall term of school, and Margaret had so wanted to be early at school to secure her old seat; for she had heard that Helen Marcy was going to try to get it first. She had almost forgotten her new resolves in the morning when her step-mother had told her she would have to stay home to-day and help her.

As the tears came into Margaret’s eyes, Mrs. Moore had remarked: “Now’s a good time to show your religion. A girl that’s joined the church shouldn’t go around pouting all day because she’s asked to do a little work; especially when she’s been off doing nothing at the seashore.”

It was all true, Margaret knew it, but it seemed so hateful of her to say it. It had been so hard to bear.

After tea she walked down to the gate and stood staring out into the darkness.

It was a very hard life, all just as black and unlovely as that dark autumn evening.

She glanced back at the house. There was Johnnie bending over his books, the gaslight above him brought him out in clear relief against the dark room. Naughty Johnnie! How he had teased her every time he came near her that day! Nobody cared for her much. She gazed down the street. Here and there a light gleamed out. Across the way there was a bright fire in the fireplace, and the family seemed to be having a happy time, sitting around the table, sewing, reading, laughing and talking. The little girl was sitting in her father’s lap. How Margaret longed for such a pleasant evening in their home. She turned involuntarily back to the house. Her father and Mr. Wakefield, the minister, had gone out just after tea, and Mrs. Moore had gone to her own room directly after the dishes were washed. The house was all dark, save Johnnie’s one gas jet. It was just unbearable. No other girl in the world had such a hard lot. It couldn’t possibly be any worse.

Yes, she really thought so, this poor silly little girl.

But she did not altogether forget her Heavenly Father. She remembered presently, with a glad thrill of joy, that she belonged to the rich King of all the earth. He could help her. She would ask Him.

Down went her head on the gate-post, and she told her Father in Heaven all about it, and how she could not possibly stand it.

Then she raised her head with a confident feeling that now all would be well, and fell to planning different ways in which her prayer might be answered.

She didn’t exactly want her step-mother to die! She was rather shocked at the thought. That was a very wrong thought for a Christian girl to have.

Poor little Margaret! She thought she loved Jesus, and was trying with all her might to serve him, but she still had to learn the command: “Honor thy father and thy mother.”

Throwing that disagreeable thought aside, she went on. How could it all be changed? Perhaps some rich, unheard-of relative of her mother’s would die and leave a vast fortune to her as her mother’s only daughter. Then what would she do? She would give her father enough so that he wouldn’t have to work anymore. She would—yes, she would show a very Christian spirit toward Mrs. Moore. She would re-furnish the house, and hire several servants for her, and give her enough to buy beautiful dresses. The boys should be sent to college, and she,—she would go off to boarding-school and study as much as she liked, and never have to stay home and wash dishes. She would have plenty of money to give away. She would buy a great many flowers to give to poor sick people. Her room should be beautifully furnished, and she would invite all the poor girls in school there and give them nice times.

[11]

She was just treating those imaginary girls to chocolate creams and marshmallow drops, when she heard her father’s step coming swiftly down the street, and his voice say: “Margaret, you should not be out in this chilly night air.” Then she turned and followed him into the house. She had to give up her musings for a while and help Johnnie with his arithmetic lesson, but she promised herself more castle-building when she went to her own room, before she slept.

But presently her father called her. “Margaret,” he said, “I have a letter here from your Aunt Cornelia. She wishes you to come and spend the winter with her and attend school. Would you like to go?”

Margaret’s heart bounded with joy. Not alone with the pleasure of going to Aunt Cornelia, but with a sort of triumphant feeling that her prayer was answered, and that so soon. She resolved complacently that she should always pray for everything. Poor child! She thought her faith was very great.

It was quite dark in the room and Margaret could not see her father’s face as he said this, but his voice was very kind. The door into the hall was partly open, and the streak of light which came from it fell upon the sofa, and showed the dim outlines of Mrs. Moore lying there with her head bound up in a handkerchief. There was a faint odor of camphor and vinegar pervading the room and Margaret’s conscience smote her as she remembered her hard thoughts out by the gate. Perhaps Mrs. Moore had been suffering all day from a sick headache, and that was why she was so severe. The little girl’s heart softened and she resolved to pray that the headache be cured, which, however, she forgot to do. You must remember how full her heart was of excitement, and pity this poor young Christian.

It was all settled that evening that she should go in a week, and she went up to her room to write a letter overflowing with thanks to dear Aunt Cornelia, and then went to bed to dream of the new life.

How easy it would be to be a Christian, living with Aunt Cornelia, she thought, while she was dressing the next morning. God must have seen how utterly impossible it was for her to serve him truly here in her home, and so planned this for her. But her thoughts were interrupted by a knock at her door, and Johnnie called out:

“Say, Mag, she’s sick, an’ father’s gone for the doctor, an’ he said you must come an’ get some breakfast, an’ West’s cross, an’ it rains like sixty, an’ the wood’s all wet, an’ I can’t make the fire burn. Can’t you come quick?”

Had Margaret known all the trials that were to come to her that day, she would have stopped, in that little minute that stood between her bright hopes of the night before, and the unknown future, to ask her Heavenly Father for strength for what was to come. But she did not. Perhaps it was some shadow of coming trouble that made her reach out her hand and push the letter she had written into her upper bureau drawer. Then she hastened down-stairs. Desolation reigned there. Johnnie’s books and slate were scattered over the dining-room table, just as he had left them the night before. Weston had added to the confusion by spending his evening in cutting bits out of several newspapers for his scrap-book, and little white snips were scattered thick over the floor. Margaret remembered that the dining-room always before looked nice when she came down in the morning. It did make a difference to have a mother around, even if she was only a step-mother.

Out in the kitchen Johnnie was rattling the stove and the smoke was pouring out of every crevice.

It was late that morning before the new minister got his breakfast, and the steak was smoky and the coffee muddy-looking, but he smiled pleasantly at Margaret’s red face and told her that she had done well for the first time.

While they were at breakfast, Mr. Moore came in with the doctor.

They went directly up-stairs, but soon came down again, the doctor taking out his medicine-case and calling for glasses and water. Mr. Moore looked anxious and worried. Margaret tried to hear the doctor’s replies to her father’s troubled questions, but she only caught words now and then:

“Inflammatory rheumatism.” “System completely run down.” “Rest for several months.”

These were the bits of phrases that came to Margaret through the open kitchen door, as she[12] stood by the faucet drawing water for the doctor. The rest of the sentences were drowned by the rush of the water, but Margaret could easily imagine it, and her heart stood still.

She knew that this meant many things that the doctor did not say.

It meant that she could not go to Aunt Cornelia’s; that she must spend the winter at home; that she must be the one who must constantly wait on the sick woman. She could even now hear the irritable words which she imagined her step-mother would use to her when she didn’t do everything just right.

Then a great rebellion arose in her heart.

SHE HAD ALMOST FORGOTTEN HER RESOLVES.

“God hasn’t answered my prayer at all,” she said to herself, and the great disappointment made her hand shake as she set the water-pitcher down before the doctor.

Mr. Moore didn’t think his little girl had heard the doctor’s words, and he looked after her with a troubled sigh as she went back to the kitchen. How should he tell her? Would she storm and cry as she had been wont to do when her will was crossed? He decided that he would not tell her that day.

The breakfast dishes washed, Johnnie at school, and her father up-stairs, Margaret betook herself to the kitchen to wail out her sorrow and pity herself. She dared not go to her own room, lest she should be heard. Rebellion was in her soul, and the more she cried the more she pitied herself and cried again. Mr. Wakefield, coming to the kitchen to ask for some warm water, found Margaret with her arms on the table, and her head on her arms, sobbing great angry, disappointed sobs. He stopped in dismay.

“Why, Margaret, what is the matter? Is there anything I can do for you?”

“No, there isn’t! God hasn’t answered my prayer! You said he would! Now I’ve got to stay at home and wait on her! I don’t believe he heard me at all!”

Margaret fairly screamed this out. She had worked herself into such a state that she scarcely knew what she was saying. Was this the gentle, humble Christian he had received into the church but two days before? This thought passed through the minister’s mind, but he was too wise to express it to the excited little girl. He only asked quietly:

“Margaret, does your father always say ‘yes’ to you when you ask for something?”

“Why, no; of course not!” she said, in surprise.

“And suppose you should ask for something, and he should say No, would you come and tell me that your father would not answer you?”

She did not answer this time, and Mr. Wakefield went on:

“Suppose your father knows that what you ask would be very hurtful to you, would you think him cruel to refuse you?”

“But this isn’t hurtful! It’s best for me! God wants me to be a Christian, and I never can be one in this house!” she burst out.

“Margaret, which do you think knows best, you who know so little, or God who made you, and who sees all things that ever have happened or ever will happen in your life? My little friend, I am afraid you didn’t pray in the right spirit,”—

“O, yes, I did!” she interrupted eagerly.[13] “I believed. I thought of course He would give it to me.”

“But believing is not the only thing. You forgot to put one little sentence in, ‘Thy will be done.’ If you had put it in words your prayer would sound something like this: ‘Our Father, who art in heaven, hallowed be Thy name, Thy kingdom come, Margaret Moore’s will be done,’”—

At this Margaret couldn’t help smiling through her tears.

“Your kind Heavenly Father didn’t give you just what you asked for, because he saw that it would not be best for you. Perhaps he saw that his servant must learn patiently to serve him at home, among trials, before she would ever make the right kind of servant out in the world. He will answer your prayer in some other way than the one you had planned, Margaret. He loves you a great deal better than you love yourself. Can’t you trust him?”

And then the minister went away without his hot water. Went back to his room to pray for the poor little troubled disciple down-stairs. And Margaret sat and thought. She saw now just how foolish and wicked she had been. She had a long struggle with her rebellious heart, kneeling on the bare floor with her head on the kitchen table, but she conquered at last, and the peace of God filled her heart. She was resolved now to give up her own way and try to do God’s way. “But, dear Jesus,” she prayed, “I’ll have to be helped a great deal, for I can’t do it alone, and I know I shall cry if they say much about Aunt Cornelia.”

Margaret had found the right way to do all she could herself and trust in Jesus for the rest, and to give up her life, her will, her whole self into his keeping.

But she remembered that she had other duties and that her father might be down-stairs at any moment, so she hastened to her room to wash away the traces of tears.

Half-way down the stairs she paused. “Would not it please Jesus if she were to knock at mother’s door and ask if there was anything she could do?”

She retraced her steps softly and gave a very gentle knock. Her father came from the darkened room, his face so careworn that it almost startled her. “Father, please don’t look so worried. Everything will be all right. I can keep house,” she said.

Her father regarded her with a tender, sorrowful look.

“Does my little girl know that she cannot go away this winter?”

“Yes, sir; I know it. Never mind that. It’s all right, father.”

Mr. Moore was so amazed and pleased at this new character exhibited by his daughter that he scarcely knew what to say.

“I am very sorry it is so, Margaret, but your mother is very sick. She has been under a great strain this summer. You will have to wait on her and be a general help. I would hire some one else to do it if I could afford it, but I cannot. Your mother’s sister, Amelia, who has been living in Brierly with her brother, will come, I think, and keep house, and then the minister need not go away, for we need all the money we can get now to pay the doctor’s bills.”

THERE SAT JOHNNIE.

Margaret’s face fell.

“Must we have her? Isn’t there some one else we can have?” she said, lowering her voice.

“Not without paying for it,” said her father, sadly.

“Couldn’t I do the work?” she asked.

“No, Margaret; you will have all you can do to wait on your mother, and,” he added, “I am afraid you cannot even go to school here at home,—for a time, at least. I am sorry, but I don’t see any other way out just now.”

Margaret felt very much like bursting into tears again, but a glance at her father’s worn face changed her feelings.

“Never mind, father, I’ll do all I can, and be as good as I can.” And she wound her arms around her father’s neck and kissed him.

If she only could have known how much that kiss comforted her father. He went back into[14] the darkened room with a lightened heart and a feeling that there must be something in religion, for it had changed Margaret wonderfully.

Margaret snatched the first hour that came to her to write a letter to Aunt Cornelia, telling her how impossible it was for her to come to her, and how very sorry she was, and soon there came a long, sympathetic, helpful answer, and with it a little book bound in green and silver. “To help you when you feel discouraged,” the good auntie wrote.

On the first page Margaret opened, her eyes met these words:

And they sang a little tune in her heart as she thought of all she must bear that long winter.

THE FIRST LOAD.

IT was a warm, sunny Sunday morning, and consequently Robbie Ellsworth was allowed to go to church. This was quite a luxury to him, because he had but recently recovered from the measles, and his mother was rather afraid to have him go.

The notices were all given out, at least so the people thought, when the minister announced that there would be a meeting of the congregation the next day, to raise money for a new church. That building, they saw, was altogether too small, and he did hope they would get a new one started very soon, as a lot was donated in a fine location.

Then came the sermon. It was about little things. Robbie listened attentively, as the minister told how many great things had been started and helped by little boys and girls, and by people with little money or talent.

At the dinner table Robbie’s father remarked, “How anxious Dr. Sullivan is for a new church! But he won’t get it—not very soon, anyway. The people don’t care enough about it, though I’m sure they need one badly.”

“Dear me!” thought Robbie to himself, “I do wish Dr. Sullivan could get the new church. I’m sure he ought to have it if he wants it.”

“He wants a brick one,” Mr. Ellsworth continued, “but in my opinion a frame building would do this time. Brick costs too much.”

“I wish he could have a brick church,” thought Robbie. “It would be so much nicer.”

Then he went to thinking about what Dr. Sullivan said in his sermon, and pretty soon he began to wonder if he couldn’t help with the new church. All the afternoon he thought about it, and finally a plan came into his little mind, which he thought of so much that he could hardly sleep that night. But he didn’t want anybody to know anything about it, so he went to sleep as fast as he could.

Fortunately for his plans, Monday was as pleasant as Sunday, and about ten o’clock Robbie went to Mrs. Ellsworth.

“Mamma, I want to go take a walk,” he said.

“Why, Robbie dear, you would get lost.”

“But I only want to go around to Uncle Will’s,” pleaded the little fellow.

Now Uncle Will was a doctor, a great favorite with his little nephew, and he lived only around the corner, in the new house which he had just built.

“I think you may go, then,” said Mrs. Ellsworth, “as you don’t have to cross the street to get there. I am going down to papa’s office, and will tell him to stop for you when he comes home.”

“No, mamma,” said Robbie, “I’d rather not. I have a very much reason for wanting to come home alone.”

That was his way of saying he had a very good, and, in his eyes, important reason, which he didn’t want to give. So his mother agreed, kissed him good-by, and he started out, first getting his little green wheelbarrow from the hall closet.

He trudged along down one street, up another, till he stopped on the stone steps of “Uncle Will’s house,” and gave the bell such a pull as only a boy of about Robbie’s size knows how.

Aunt Flora greeted her small visitor very[15] warmly, laughing at his wheelbarrow, but he pushed right by her, and trudged into Uncle Will’s office, pushing his wheelbarrow before him. Uncle Will was engaged in discussing the cholera germ with a brother physician, but he turned and welcomed his nephew cheerily:

“Well, my man! What can I do for you to-day? Will you cart a wheelbarrow of books around to the library for me?”

“Mamma wouldn’t let me,” said Robbie. “I came to see if you would let me have one wheelbarrowful of the bricks that were left over—out in the back yard.”

“Certainly,” said Uncle Will. “You can go right out and get them.”

So Robbie turned again, too eager to even thank his uncle, pushed his wheelbarrow through the dining-room, and was soon taking down bricks from the pile by the back stoop.

His barrow didn’t hold but about a half-dozen, and soon Irish Mary was lifting it up the steps, and he arrived again before his uncle’s door.

“Are they my very own, Uncle Will,” he asked, as that gentleman turned to look at his load, “to use just as I want to?”

“Your very own,” said the doctor, “to do what you please with. If you wish, you may throw them in the cistern. But what are they for?”

“I would rather not tell, Uncle Will.”

“Very well, sir. Success to your project, whatever it is.”

Down the steps bumped the wheelbarrow, with its owner behind, and down the street they went again, though this time on the other side of the block. There were not many pedestrians on the street, but the few Robbie met smiled at him and his load of bricks. He looked at all the houses attentively, and finally mounted the steps of one with difficulty, all the time afraid his bricks would fall out, and rang the bell a little more gently than he had at his uncle’s.

The Rev. Dr. Sullivan came to the door. He knew Robbie. “Good-morning, young man!” he said. “What can I do for you?”

“Nothing,” said Robbie. “I’ve brought you the first load of bricks for the new church.”

“The new church!” said the doctor.

“Yes, sir. You said yesterday you wanted one, and papa said you wanted a brick one. So I’ve brought the first load. They’re my very own, sir, to use just as I want to.”

“Well, well!” said Dr. Sullivan, “I am very much obliged to you,” and Robbie thought his voice sounded almost as his did when he had the croup. Moreover, he took out his handkerchief and rubbed his eyes. Then he took the wheelbarrow in his arms, and having deposited the contents in his backyard, returned it to the owner. “The bricks shall be used, young man,” he said, “every one of them, for the new church. Thank you very much for your help.”

Then Robbie returned home, jubilant at having been able to help his minister.

As for the minister, he took a paper, and went out. The first man he met was Mr. Lawrence, the wealthiest person in his church.

“Mr. Lawrence,” he said, “we have started, and the first load of bricks for the new church has arrived.”

“Indeed!” said Mr. Lawrence, and after a little more talk he put down his name for quite a sum of money. Dr. Sullivan went on telling every one that the first load of bricks had arrived, and it was astonishing how encouraging those bricks were! When the congregation met that afternoon, their pastor announced that some hundred dollars had been raised for the church, and that the first load of bricks had come.

Of course it was a good while before the church was really built, for there were architects and masons and carpenters to be consulted; but it was really built, and it was not till then that the minister told who had furnished “the first load of bricks,” and how he really started the whole thing.

And the six bricks that Robbie had brought in his little wheelbarrow were built into the wall of the church, and everybody thanked him for his part of the work.

Now the best thing about this story is that it is all true. The minister’s name may not have been Dr. Sullivan, and the boy’s name may not have been Robbie Ellsworth, and his wheelbarrow may not have been green, but it brought the bricks that are in the “Brick Church,” as it is called, of one of the largest cities in the Eastern States.

[16]

NOVEMBER WOODS.

[17]

A WORLD OF LITTLE PEOPLE.

FROM the further corner of the fence, one end fastened to a bush near by, hung a spider’s silken web, regular as if made on geometrical principles. In the centre of this sat a good-sized spider, the proprietress, who had just finished devouring the most of an unwary fly, whose bloodless remains lay at her side. Up to the spider came two ants—Zed and Zoo.

“Excuse me,” said the spider, looking at them suspiciously, “for having any doubts as to the safety of making your acquaintance. But you have just been communicating with my greatest enemy, the wasp, and have been watching with heartless interest the destruction of one of my family. I am sure I hope you have no personal designs upon my life. The wasp is such a very daring foe, that I fear you, even though you are so small.”

“I assure you,” replied Zed, “that our interest in the wasp’s doings was wholly due to ignorance, and we are no friends of hers, nor have we any design against you.”

“Very well,” replied the spider, whose name[18] was Luxz, “I am very glad. I feel in a pretty good humor this morning, having just finished a most delicious fly. I say finished, or I would offer you some. All spiders like flies. I had a most unpleasant disappointment yesterday. I was over on the window-sill of the house yonder, and saw a large fly resting on a piece of paper. Of course I sprang after him, but there was no fly there! I walked over and over him, too! One of my neighbors suggests that it was a picture; as if an intelligent spider couldn’t tell the difference between a picture and a fly!”

The two ants nodded their assent to this highly probable statement.

“You spin a great deal, I suppose?” asked Zoo.

“O, yes!” said Luxz; “I am as busy as can be. I can spin little fine threads, and coarser ones, and dance and swing all around on them. But of course the most of my time is occupied with work. It is a good deal of work to make a web, although you might not think so. There were some boys coming past here to school as I had just finished a nice web, quite a while ago, and they knocked it all down. I built another, then another, but every time those wicked creatures would destroy it, and then laugh at my dismay. Finally my pockets were as empty as could be, and I was all out of silk, so I had to go and kill another spider, and occupy her web for a time. But this I built myself.”

“You catch a good many flies?”

“Yes, indeed. They are not very sagacious animals, though sometimes I will find one that I can’t entice into my web after the greatest endeavors. We are all very cunning, but we have to look out for some of the birds. A neighbor of mine was swinging one morning, as fine as could be, and a swallow came along, that had his nest up under the eaves, and—well, that was the last of her. The wasps, as I have already mentioned, are very bad. If one of them gets caught in our webs, we unfasten the threads as quickly as we can, and let her go, fearing that if we don’t, we shall get the worst of it.

“Our threads are very convenient,” Luxz continued, after a moment’s pause, “for we can let one end of them float out, and they stick to anything they touch, making a thoroughfare for us. I remember once those same boys put me on a chip in a large tub of water, and again laughed at my discomfiture. But I was equal to the emergency, and had soon spun out a thread the outer end of which a draught of air floated to the side of the tub, and when my tormentors were not looking, I escaped along it. We can fasten the end of our thread to the top of anything, and let ourselves down by spinning out more, or rise by pulling it in.”

“Have you any children?” asked Zed.

“O, yes!” replied Luxz, “I have some just hatching. As you go around the corner of that board you can see the nest—all fuzzy, like cotton. A few are just crawling out. They are very small as yet.”

Then the ants bade the spider good-day, and went down the fence, stopping as they passed it to see the nest, where the little wee spiders were just taking their first few steps among the delicate filmy threads surrounding their eggs. How many there were!

A fly was the next insect which absorbed the attention of our travellers, as he was poised on a grease-spot at the edge of a board along which they were walking. It was just a common house-fly, but as they were not very familiar to Zed and Zoo, he was an object of as great interest to them as any which they had met in their peregrinations.

“Good-morning,” he buzzed, “I am searching for something to eat. I have just been driven out of the house yonder, by some immense people with great cloths in their hands. They have put up frames in the windows with wire ropes in them, and I can’t get into that well-filled table. There is a man there with a bald head, too,—just the place for an enterprising fly. But these people do hate us!”

“Too bad,” said Zed sympathetically; “but if you lazy flies would make homes of your own, as ants do, and not go about where you’re not wanted, you and others would be far more contented.”

“Well,” said the fly thoughtfully, “I’m sure I don’t see why we don’t. Possibly no fly ever thought of it. It doesn’t seem to be intended that we should. I never could work out in the hot sun the way you do. The people don’t molest very often,—not as much as they’d like[19] to; we have too sharp eyes, and too many of them. We each have hundreds and hundreds of little eyes, and every one moves and looks in a different way. It’s rather difficult to come up behind us, as the elephant did.”

“How was that?” asked Zoo.

“Don’t you know?

“I’m not sure about the story; it’s just possible that it may be taken from the New York paper, but, anyway, we believe it, and often laugh at the grasshopper.”

“What do you eat?” asked Zed.

“Anything I find, almost. Flies are not at all particular. We can enjoy anything that any one does. Our mouths are hollow tubes, through which we suck whatever we wish to eat. This is a very convenient way.”

“You have enemies,” remarked Zoo. “We have just been calling on a spider who is longing for a taste of some of you.”

“You don’t say so!” cried the fly. “She is not very near here, is she? Those spider-webs are the great torment of our lives. I have had several friends caught and eaten by the spiders. The way they wind their fine, yet strong threads about one, is something remarkable. I know a pretty good verse about them, too:

That’s real pathetic, isn’t it, now?”

“Very,” answered Zed and Zoo, together.

“I met a Southern fly once,” continued the talkative fly, “and they have more enemies down there than we do in the North. Take the lizards and chameleons, for instance—”

“Oh! we know about them,” cried the little ants.

“And then the walking-sticks,” continued the fly, not pausing at the interruption, but rather looking severely at his visitors; “now, a man up here couldn’t hit on one of us with a walking-stick if he tried all day. But it’s quite different down there! A walking-stick is not a stick by the aid of which people walk, but a walking-stick, that is, a stick that walks. It is a very strange insect, and is so exactly like the broken twig of a tree, with the little branches and all, that the most sagacious person can’t tell them apart, without seeing them walk. They are called ‘devil’s walking-sticks’ by some, and we flies think it very appropriate, for they are dreadful for us—that is, for Southern flies. The people will put a walking-stick in a room full of flies, and in a short time he will have killed them all! Think how dreadful!”

“Do you know any more poetry?” asked Zed, who was rather of a literary disposition.

“Well, now, I do know a real cute little song about a fly, written by some man or other, who evidently had a baby. I will sing it for you.”

And the fly buzzed:

[20]

THE POPLAR ST. PANSY SOCIETY.

CHAPTER I.

THE Poplar Street Pansy Society began with a large membership and every other flattering prospect. The leaders were wide awake, bright boys and girls who meant success, come what might. Everything went on finely for the first year. Meetings were held regularly; the attendance included nearly all the members every time, in bad weather as well as good, and no matter what invitations were given elsewhere to parties or rides. The members, with rare exceptions, were thoroughly loyal to their society.

This became so well known that, at length, when entertainments were about to be given at the same time of the society meetings its members were passed by when the lists of invitations were being made out, for it was commonly said you might as well invite the man in the moon as one of the Poplar Street Society; that they would not leave that dear society to see the Emperor of China pass through the city. Some were cruel enough to say that these Pansies just worshiped their society.

JENNIE.

In spite of all the outside parties and sneers the society kept right on its way. At last it grew to be such a power, so many of the young folks had joined it, that ladies, wishing a company of the youth at their homes, were compelled to consult the convenience of the Poplar Street Pansy Society.

If there was to be a meeting of the society at a certain time, particularly if it was to be a public one, everything must needs yield to it. Thither the fathers and mothers would go, no matter what other attractions offered.

Thus this Poplar Street Society came to be known as the popular society.

But the Roman Empire had its decline and fall. Why should not this society? Certain boys and girls had come in who cared more for place than for progress. They wanted to be highly thought of and to receive the offices. On one occasion four of them insisted upon being chosen president. Of course three of the four were offended and declared they would withdraw.

[21]

Some others said they must be appointed on the programme committee and be allowed to manage things generally or they would establish a rival society. A few insisted that the time had now come for a change; that the old programme of singing, recitations, games, etc., was poky; that a little dancing and card-playing ought to be allowed a part of the time.

To this it was answered that the Poplar Street Pansy Society was established for mental and moral growth and not for a dancing-school or card-party; that those who must have such things could find them elsewhere.

Thus a division came. Two parties arose. The matter was discussed in the schoolroom and three times daily in forty or more different dining-rooms. Many bitter things were said. The meetings would sometimes break up in confusion. Then some parents interfered by refusing to allow their children to attend. The dance and card portion withdrew. Several who wanted the offices or wished to have the most to say, came no more. Some had moved out of the city.

So there came a time when a very few attended the meeting. The many empty seats filled the few present with sadness. Then came a motion to dissolve the society; it was seconded, put and lost by one vote only. Then it was resolved to appoint a committee who should confer with some wise ones and see what could be done and report at the next meeting, or, if they thought best, adjourn the society till better times.

The committee consisted of two boys and one girl, this girl being the very one whose perseverance had brought the society into being and held it together at times when it seemed ready to go to pieces.

She invited her two friends to meet at her father’s house to see what was best to be done. Meanwhile she had done a deal of thinking for herself and had carried the matter to her mother for guidance.

Things looked dark enough for her dear society. Her mother even doubted if anything could be done while there was such an opposition, and the best she could say was to let matters rest for the present, till the dancers and others had had their round of fun.

This brave girl had seen too much good in the society, and hungered for more too deeply to easily give it up.

She had a great Friend to whom all her troubles were carried. She took this one to Him.

The committee came together,—two doubting boys and one true girl,—full of faith and purpose to stand by the society. The boys had settled the matter in their minds to let the society die as things then stood; that further effort would but result in failure, and make them a laughing-stock,—to be laughed at was not for a moment to be thought of,—unless there should be some most favorable turn of affairs.

Thus the conference opened, two to one against the life of the P. S. P. S., as the society was sometimes called.

“I’m glad you’ve come,” began our little heroine to the two, after they were seated and the moment had come for business. “These have been pretty dark days for me; I’ve been on the point of crying nearly all the time.”

“So have we,” came from the boys, “but what’s the use crying for spilt milk! The society’s as good as dead. Every one we’ve met says so, and now all that’s left for us is just to bury it respectably, and try something else. Guess you’ve come to that conclusion, too, haven’t you?”

“No; not I,” was the firm answer. “Our society began with one member and here we have three to build it up on again. I’m sure three are more than one.”

“Don’t know how you make three. You can’t count upon us. We see no chance now, and are ready to vote to end the P. S. P. S.”

“I am not ready.”

“But we are two to your one, and you know majorities rule.”

“And you, who have stood by the society so long, are surely not going to desert it when it needs you most?”

“Nothing left to desert. You see, Jennie, the thing is gone up.”

And Jennie’s answer was a look of pain. There was silence, then a sigh and audible sob heard in the next room, where were Jennie’s father and Uncle John. Uncle John had come from a distant town for a visit of some[22] weeks. He was a lover of the boys and girls, and when he knew the object of the meeting of the committee was to discuss the life or death of the Poplar Street Pansy Society, and that Jennie’s heart was bound up in that society, he immediately set himself, without telling any one, to devise ways and means to come to Jennie’s rescue.

So he had caught every word from the little committee folks in the next room, and when the crisis came and poor Jennie was about to be out-voted, he spoke out:

“Jennie?”

“That’s my Uncle John. I wonder if he’s heard all we’ve said,” and Jennie’s voice was in a whisper, and quickly her handkerchief stole to her eye to brush away the tears that had been starting. He spoke again:

“Jennie?”

“Sir?”

“Cannot I counsel with your committee?”

“O, yes, Uncle John, do, do!” and with the words the door flew open, and Uncle John was introduced to the two boys.

After a few cheery remarks, the committee was asked not to take any action just then, but to call a meeting and talk the matter over once more, with as many present as could be induced to attend, Uncle John asking permission to be present and make any suggestion that might occur to him, remarking, with an assuring nod of his head, that the Poplar Street Pansy Society need not and should not die yet if the girls and boys would let him keep it alive.

The committee looked at each other surprised; the two boys somewhat ashamed of their part of the conference, Jennie ready to cry for joy.

That night at her bedside she said: “I thank thee, dear Lord, for hearing me in my trouble. I thank thee for sending Uncle John just at the right time.”

The boys went home in silence; but the brave girl dreamed of a good time coming.

GAS.

AFTER a time wood became scarce. In some parts of the country it could hardly be had for love or money. Then what? Ah! the Lord always provides, as he did the lamb in place of the lad Isaac, you remember. Some men were looking about one day among the hills of Pennsylvania, and they found a piece of a—wood house, sticking out of the ground with a bit of wood in it, though it looked no more like wood than a stone painted black does. But it shone so brightly that somehow they took it home and somehow, I can’t just say how, they got it to burn. Then they went back to the “wood house” and began to dig, and the more they dug the larger the wood house grew, until they could find no limits to it. Then many of the neighbors went at it with pickaxes and spades; then nearly all the people of the country—and now how many think you are getting wood there? A hundred? Ten thousand? Guess again. And can you guess what sort of wood it is; do you know of any one that knows how many cords of wood are in this house, and who piled it away there, and when?

It does seem as though an army of children would have starved or frozen to death but for that fuel; found just at the right time, you see.

But then, the great and loving Heavenly Father had such a wonderful Christmas present to surprise the world with, something better and cheaper than this black wood.

Some say there is no God to take care of the poor working men and women, and they think one of the ways of doing it is by burning up the property of the rich, by strikes, and such things. Meanwhile the blessed God, whom these persons deny, often by one little word or act, opens up millions and millions of treasures for the poor workers, and alas! so many never thank him for it. “What was the treasure?”

I was just going to tell you. Another big wood house bigger than all the barns, meeting-houses, opera-houses and mills in your country!

The logs must be chopped and hauled; the coal must be mined and carried on the cars, but this new fuel just comes, and comes faster than the fastest train you ever heard of! All that is necessary is to bore into the earth in certain[23] places from one hundred to fifteen hundred feet and place an iron tube into the hole, long enough to reach your—fireplace, and touch a match to the open end of the tube; then look out for one of the hottest fires you ever warmed your fingers at. But be careful lest a lot of this new wood gets out into your room and away goes the top of your house and—yourself with it. However, I guess your pa will see that a first-rate plumber puts in the fixtures. After that, no danger need be feared from an explosion.

Right in the hearth will come the little flames, by turning some screws and touching a match. There are broken pieces of stone lying in the fireplace. These will become hot, from red to white. Then you’d better not handle them.

Now bring your cold fingers and feet, or go to the kitchen stove and see how beautifully your dinner is being cooked by this wonderful wood.

There it is, too, heating all the stores, banks, schools, churches, and everything that will give it a chance to come through the iron tube. Now what say you? I guess this is gas.

Yes; I knew you’d ask that: Who found it first, and what does it cost, and how does it look and smell, and when will it be all used up, and how far will it travel? However, if I should tell you all I know about it, that would save you the trouble of finding out yourself, one of the very best things for you, trouble besides the joy of finding out some things without bothering any one to tell. Now see if you can answer those questions yourself. This, I will say: that Pittsburgh, Penn., knows a great deal about this gas. Ask it.

INTRODUCTIONS.

CHARLIE HOLLAND, at your service. A well-dressed, well-mannered, pleasant-faced boy. You feel sure you would like him? Everybody who sees him feels just so.

“His mother must be proud of him,” is a sentence often on people’s lips. Look at him now, as he lifts his hat politely, in answer to a call from an open window.

“Charlie,” says the voice, “I wonder if I could get you to mail this letter for me? Are you going near the post-office?”

“Near enough to be able to serve you, Mrs. Hampstead,” says the polite voice. “I will do it with pleasure.”

“I shall be very much obliged, Charlie, but I wouldn’t want to make you late at school on that account.”

“Oh! no danger at all, Mrs. Hampstead. It will not take two minutes to dash around the corner to the office.” And, as he receives the letter, his hat is again lifted politely.

“What a perfect little gentleman Charlie Holland is,” says Mrs. Hampstead to her sister, as the window closes. “Always so obliging; he acts as though it was a pleasure to him to do a kindness.”

Bend lower and let me whisper a secret in your ear: it is not five minutes since that boy’s mother said to him: “Charlie, can’t you run upstairs and get that letter on my bureau and mail it for me?” And Charlie, with three wrinkles on his forehead, and a pucker on each side of his mouth, said: “O, mamma! I don’t see how I can! I’m late now; and the office is half a block out of my way.”

And the mother said, well then he needn’t mind, for she didn’t want him to be late at school. So he didn’t mind, but left the letter on the bureau, and went briskly on his way until stopped by Mrs. Hampstead.

What was the matter with Charlie Holland? Was he an untruthful boy? He did not mean to be. He prided himself on his strict honesty.

It was growing late, and he felt in a hurry, and he hated to go upstairs. Of course it would not do to refuse Mrs. Hampstead, and by making an extra rush, he could get to school in time; but the other lady was only his mother. Her letter could wait.

“Only his mother!” Didn’t Charlie Holland love his mother, then?

You ask him, with a hint of doubt about it in your voice, and see how his eyes will flash, and how proudly he will toss back his handsome head and say:

“I guess I do love my mother! She’s the grandest mother a boy ever had.”

Oh! I didn’t promise to explain Charlie’s conduct to you; I am only introducing him; you are to study for yourselves. Do you know any boy like him?

[24]

LOST.

[25]

A LARGE FAMILY.

[26]

THE OLD BRIMMER PLACE.

CHAPTER I.

THE air was clear and fresh; a slight fall of snow just conveniently stopping at the point of becoming higher than the overshoes of the pedestrians, lay on the ground. It was an early fall, as the old farmers say when there is snow at Thanksgiving, and every sign gave promise of winter shutting in rapidly.

The old gray house set back from Cherryfield high road, had its chimney smoking by break of day, for Mother Brimmer tied on her baking apron as soon as she had told Rosalie how to prepare the simple breakfast “to hurry forward those pies,” as she said.

“All that can be done to-day, Rosy,” she observed, in the midst of the bustle that now ensued, “is clear gain toward to-morrow. Always remember that, child; don’t leave a lot of odds and ends to do when you’re going to have company, thinking you’ll have time. You never do; and the last minute catches you before you know it.”

“It’s such fun,” hummed the one girl of the family, stirring the cornmeal mush in the kettle vigorously, “to have company. I don’t ever remember having any before.”

“You forget the parson coming to tea,” said Mrs. Brimmer, bringing out her pie-plates from the pantry. “Let me see; I shall make four mince ones.”

“He isn’t company!” cried Rosy. “Mr. Higginson isn’t; I ain’t a bit afraid of him.”

“No more you should be,” exclaimed Mrs. Brimmer, setting down her pie-plates; “and then again, child, there isn’t any call to be afraid of any one, so long as you haven’t been doing anything wrong.”

“But it scares me to think something don’t look nice, or I don’t know how to do things,” said Rosy.

“Well, that’s very silly,” observed Mrs. Brimmer, going for her pastry-board; “do the best you can, Rosy, and then let it go.”

Rosy turned her little anxious face toward her mother, and smiled. “Anyway, this company is to be nice, and the things will be nice, too, I guess, ma.”

“We’ll try to make ’em so,” declared her mother, energetically stirring up her mince-meat in the stone jar.

“What will Miss Clorinda say to see the goose that I’m going to roast all myself?” cried Rosy, deserting her mush-kettle, to go over with this important question to the baking-table. “Say, ma?”

“I’m sure I don’t know!” cried Mrs. Brimmer, with pride. “She’ll say, ‘Was there ever such a goose!’ like as not, though, Rosy.”

“Do you suppose she really will!” cried the girl in delight, the color coming into her cheeks. When she looked like this, the boys, her brothers Jack and Cornelius, always called her “Wild Rose,” and it was their secret delight to summon the lovely bloom in as many startling ways as they could.

“But you’d better fly back to that mush,” said Mother Brimmer presently, “and get breakfast as you’d ought to, and not look ahead to to-morrow. That’ll take care of itself.”

“So it will!” cried Rosy merrily.

Jack and Cornelius, now hurrying in to breakfast, the small maid-of-all-work had to desert her delightful anticipations of to-morrow’s good times and fly to the work in hand. It was presently on the table—the steaming dish of mush, the baked potatoes, and the large pitcher of milk, and Mother Brimmer being summoned from her work, wiped her hands, took off her apron, and joined the others at their simple meal.

For the good woman, although her children were “in business and doing for themselves,” as she proudly expressed it, observed the same frugality as when times were hard and the future looked dark. “We won’t give up our plain breakfasts; they’ve always done us good, and we don’t need any other food,” she would say when the boys urged her to have a “bit of meat for herself, at least.”

“No, no; I don’t want it,” she said, “mother’s tough and hearty. As long as I’ve such perfect health, you needn’t worry, children.”

So the money that would have gone into the butcher’s till for the beefsteak or mutton chop,[27] went instead into the bank to Brimmer Brothers and Company’s credit.

And the economy observed in the matter of breakfasts went into all the other details of daily life. The only thing in which the family indulged themselves was in the matter of books and magazines; and occasionally Mrs. Brimmer would send the young people off of an evening to a good lecture or concert in the Town Hall, or she would go with some of them, one always being obliged to remain with Roly Poly, who was called “the baby,” although rejoicing in the dignity of five years.

The business conducted by Brimmer Brothers and Company was a grocery and general trade carried on in a little red building on their grounds, that had formerly been an old tool-house, in which the farmer who then lived in the big gray house mended up his farming utensils, and kept his tools when he had done the jobs. The business was started because the little money left by Father Brimmer when he died had, despite all the watchful care of it, dwindled till now there was only a pittance left. The old weather-beaten house would last them their lifetime, and the ground was theirs, but the growing family would need more each year to support them, and make them able to take their proper place in the world. And the children, who had silently worried over the problem, how to help the mother they had seen working for them early and late ever since they could remember, were at last one day helped out by the little old red tool-house.

“Here I am,” it seemed to say. “Your mother has given me to you for a play-house; now use me to help her.”

It was an inspiration in the first of it, to be followed by hard and grinding work, much of it in the face of half-laughing opposition and downright sneers of friends and townsfolk. But Brimmer Brothers and Company having begun to face the world never once thought of shirking any of the duties which they met there, but just the same as if everybody believed that they could make a success of the business, they determined in their own minds to do so, and behaved accordingly. And Rosy, the most timid little thing before strangers, forgot all her fears now, and as Company of the new concern developed a resoluteness and self-possession that amazed the boys.

All this was two years before this Thanksgiving; and now Mother Brimmer and the successful business firm and Roly Poly were to have a party!

After the breakfast dishes were cleared away, the boys hurrying off to the shop, as they anticipated a rushing trade for the day, the old kitchen began to assume the aspect of getting ready for some great festivity, while it smelt of spices and boiling sweets clear out beyond the lilacs and down to the front gate. Every passer-by must have known that it was Thanksgiving, and suspected pies and such other accompaniments of the national holiday at once.

The stoning of raisins and buttering of cake-pans fell to Rosy to do, who was excused from shop duty for the morning to help the mother in her unwonted tasks; and patiently the little girl performed it all, secretly planning, as she waited on the busy housewife, taking the thousand and one necessary steps in and out the buttery and pantry, if one of her little wood-gardens remained unsold in the shop, to take it to dress the dinner-table on the morrow.

“They can’t all be sold,” thought Rosy, almost wishing for the moment that there was not quite such a demand for them. “If the red partridge-berries could only stay at home, what a party we would have!”

But when Cornelius ran in to dinner, Jack staying behind to mind the shop, he shouted out gleefully, “Rosy, every single one of your gardens is gone, and we could have sold two more if we’d had ’em!” Rosy gave a great sigh, and then reproached herself for even wishing it otherwise.

“Rosy’ll make more money than any of us,” declared Cornelius, generally called “Corny,” between his mouthfuls. “How I wish I’d thought about fixing up roots and ferns and such things in old cracked saucers.”

“But you help me,” cried Rosy. “I couldn’t even dig the roots without you, Corny.”

“And me, too!” cried Roly Poly, or Primrose, which was her real name. “I always go with you, Rosy, you know,” and she laid down the little bone she was slowly picking to regard her sister gravely.

[28]

“So you do!” cried Rosy and Cornelius together. “I’m sure we couldn’t ever get along without you, Pet;” whereat the baby of the family felt happy, and smilingly resumed her bone once more.

But that night a rap sounded on the outer door, sharp and decided.

“Run and see who it is, Jack,” said Mother Brimmer, looking up from her stocking-mending.

Jack came hurrying back, a large parcel with white paper loosely folded over it, in his hand.

“It’s for Rosy,” he said, setting it down.

“For me?” cried Rosy, too astonished to open it; but Cornelius helped her, and at last the paper was torn off.

“It’s your old red wood-garden!” exclaimed Corny, dreadfully disappointed, at least expecting a big cake.

“Oh!” Rosy clasped her hands, and took an ecstatic little spin in the middle of the floor. “Now it isn’t wicked to want it!” she cried, dreadfully excited.

“If I’d known you wanted to keep one,” said Jack slowly, “so bad, I never’d sold it.”

“Who bought it?” asked his mother.

“Mrs. Higginson.”

“I wonder what other people do who haven’t got such a minister, and his wife,” observed Mrs. Brimmer, wiping her eyes, as Rosy fell to oh-ing over her treasure, and fondling each leaf. “Folks ought to be good who sit under their preaching,” she added.

“We’ll be good to-morrow, anyway,” declared Cornelius. “My! don’t it seem funny to go to church in the middle of the week!”

But on the morrow, wasn’t that a festive scene? The table was laid in the keeping-room, whose door opened into the kitchen; knives and forks were laid for seven guests: Mr. and Mrs. Higginson, the minister and his good wife; Miss Clorinda Peaseley, a staunch friend of the family; old Widow Tucker and her spinster daughter who went out tailoring, and lived down in the Hollow; not because they would be such pleasant additions to the party, as that Mother Brimmer felt sure that no other invitations would be sent to them, bidding them to a Thanksgiving dinner; and lame Joey Clark and his sister, for the same reason, and because the children had begged to ask them.

Rosy’s wood-garden had the place of honor in the centre of the table, and it did seem as if there never was such a number of bright little berries to cast a glow over the neat cloth, done up in Mother Brimmer’s best style! How they shone among their green leaves!

And the goose! The cheeks of the little maid who cooked it rivalled her partridge berries in coloring, at all the compliments that were showered upon her; while the chicken pie, and spare-rib, and plum pudding, and pies, were declared the best ever eaten; and the hickory nuts and butter nuts, cracked by the boys, received most honorable mention.

And old Widow Tucker’s thin face began to lose some of its worn lines, and she forgot to make any uncharitable remarks about other people, to which she was a little prone, and her daughter, Miss Mary Jane, seeing her ma so happy, came out from behind her spectacles and began to be pleasant, too.

And the minister told the most delightful stories! and when he got tired, then there was Miss Clorinda to set the ball of conversation to rolling again. Everybody laughed, even lame Joey Clark, and, altogether, there was no family party in all Cherryfield so merry and festive.

And as they at last arose from the table, everybody protesting that they could not eat a bit more, Rosy pulled her mother’s gown and whispered, “I want to send a basketful of goodies down to the Four Corners boys; may I, ma?”

DON’T GOSSIP.

CHILDREN, avoid this evil. I am pained every day at seeing the work which mischief-makers do. Some one has compared this evil to pin-making. “There is sometimes some truth, which I call the wire. As this passes from hand to hand, one gives it a polish, another a point, others make and put on the head, and at last the pin is done.” The Bible speaks much against mischief-making, and I would advise you to collect all the verses in this book, bearing on this subject, and commit them to memory, and then I do not think you will ever be guilty of this sin. Remember, my little friends, that you can never gather up the mischief you may do by gossip.

R.

[29]

WILD ANIMALS AND THE TELEGRAPH.

SOME interesting facts have been brought out in a paper by M. C. Nielsen of Christiana, on the impression produced upon animals by the resonance of the vibration of telegraph wires. It is found that the black and green woodpeckers, for example, which hunt for insects in the bark and in the heart of decaying trees, often peck inside the circular hole made transversely through telegraph posts, generally near the top. The phenomenon is attributed to the resonance produced in the post by the vibration of the wire, which the bird mistakes as the result of the operation of worms and insects in the interior of the post. Every one knows the fondness of bears for honey. It has been noticed that in mountainous districts they seem to mistake the vibratory sound of the telegraph wires for the grateful humming of bees, and, rushing to the post, look about for the hive. Not finding it on the post they scatter the stones at its base which help to support it, and, disappointed in their search, give the post a parting pat with their paw, thus showing their determination at least to kill any bees that might be about it. Indisputable traces of bears about prostrate posts and scattered stones prove that this really happens. With regard to wolves, again, M. Nielsen states that when a vote was asked at the time for the first great telegraph lines, a member of the Storthing said that although his district had no direct interest in the line proposed, he would give his vote in its favor, because he knew the lines would drive the wolves from the districts through which they passed. It is well known that to keep off the ravages of hungry wolves in winter the farmers in Norway set up poles connected together by a line or rope,[30] under which the wolves would not dare to pass. “And it is a fact,” M. Nielsen states, “that when, twenty or more years ago, telegraph lines were carried over the mountains and along the valleys, the wolves totally disappeared, and a specimen is now a rarity.” Whether the two circumstances are casually connected, M. Nielsen does not venture to say.—Nature.

SEARCHING FOR SWEETS.

THE BATTLE OF IVRY.

IN 1590 the armies of Henry the Fourth, of France, and of the Duke of Mayenne, assembled near Ivry, which is not far from Paris. It was in March, and the weather was very stormy. As night came, the vast hordes of soldiers dragging their cannon through the deep mire, took position for the awful conflict about to open. Henry had about twelve thousand men, and the Duke nearly twenty thousand. Before the dawn, Henry mounted his charger, and, riding along his lines, addressed them in words of cheer. He urged upon them fidelity to France and to themselves. In conclusion he said: “If in the turmoil of battle you lose sight of your banner, follow the white plume on my casque; you will find it on the road to victory and to honor.”

Oh! what a conflict did Ivry see that day! My dear little friends, I never could understand why men love war. I never could see any good it has ever done, but, on the contrary, war and intemperance have made this world a sad and gloomy place. Read a full account of this battle, and I think you will agree with me, that war has no charms. Maddened battalions rushed over the plain, crushing the poor wounded men. Grapeshot mowed down whole ranks, and shrieks of anguish echoed over the field. In a single hour the plain was baptized in blood. Henry came off victorious, but it was a victory dearly bought. In the fearful retreat two thousand were put to the sword, and many captured. I imagine that all France was hung in mourning after that awful day, and thousands of homes were robbed of their treasures. Do not you think it will be a happy day when warriors’ steeds shall be forever chained in olive groves, and all men shall love each other? I trust so long as we live peace, with dovelike wings, shall brood over our beloved land!

Ringwood.

PANAMA.

ALTHOUGH so much has been said about the Isthmus of Panama, and the works now being carried on there, very little mention has been made of the town from which that district takes its name. Englishmen should, however, feel some special interest in it; since the old town, founded in 1518, was destroyed by Morgan, the celebrated buccaneer, who started from our shores on his romantic expeditions. The new town was built by the Spanish Governor, Fernandez de Cordova, at some distance from the old site, on a rocky peninsula, which was raised artificially and protected from the sea by a huge stone rampart, flanked on either side by solid bastions, and so fortified by the famous engineer, Alfonso de Villa Costa, as to be considered the strongest place in the New World after Carthagena. An account of the place now given by the Exploration, a French paper, relates that these stone defences are now crumbling into ruins, with the exception of the southeast bastion, which is still used by the inhabitants as a favorite promenade. On the land side, where the defences would have been most useful in modern times, they have been purposely destroyed; and now the town is exposed to periodical attacks by the people of the suburbs, who are from time to time stirred up by some aspirant to power, and led up to the hill of Santa Ana, which dominates the town. Having gained this vantage ground, they engage in skirmishes with the townsfolk, and if victorious, seize upon the government, which they retain until subverted by similar proceedings. The town was, toward the end of the last century, opulent and handsome. But its commerce was ruined by the wars; and its inhabitants, by their carelessness, have allowed many fine buildings to be burned. The railway has, it seems, restored some of its importance to the place; and much more is, of course, expected from the canal now projected.

—Selected.

[31]

DR. SAMUEL JOHNSON.

THE subject of our sketch became one of England’s most learned men. He was born in Lichfield, in 1709, and died in 1784. He once made a dictionary of our language; he also wrote “The Rambler,” “Rasselas,” and “The Idler.”

I want to relate to you a little story of him when a small boy. His father kept a bookstand, and one day he said, “Samuel, I am so feeble, I want you to take my place at the stand.”

But the proud boy refused, and the sick father then started off, only saying, “Well, if you can treat your sick father thus, I am sure you will think of it when I am dead and gone.”

His conscience, however, soon began to trouble him. All day he saw his poor father, sick and feeble, sitting at the stall, and he said to himself, “Poor father! how his head will ache. I am so sorry I did not go.”

This unkindness the boy never could forget, and years after, though surrounded by the great of England, it would often recur to him.

Many years passed by, and one day an aged man made his way through the market crowd at Uttoxeter. He stopped at the place which fifty years before had been occupied by the book-seller, and the old gentleman was heard to say:

“Yes; this is the very spot—the very spot!”

It was the great and illustrious man of England, in whose heart still lingered the remembrance of his cruelty to his poor father.

R.

BABY ELIZABETH.

BABY’S CORNER.

IT is time for Baby Elizabeth to go to bed. She does not want to go to bed. She shakes her head and says, “No bed! No bed!” Her little mouth is puckered up like a round O; here is a big tear in each blue eye. Does Baby want to stay up all night? Shall mamma leave her sitting on the floor all the dark night? No, no! Little mice stay up all night, and run about and nibble and squeal; but dear babies must go to their soft beds.

See! the sun has gone to bed. The little pink clouds are lying down in the sky. The white lilies have gone to sleep. The birdies have gone up in the tree to bed. They are singing a little song to baby. Hark! What do they say? “Go to bed, bed, bed. Good-night, little E-liz-a-beth! Good-night!”

Now baby smiles. She is good. She will have on her long white gown. She folds her little hands and says, “Now I lay me.” Mamma puts her in her white crib. In one little minute her eyes are shut. Little Elizabeth is asleep.

In the morning early the sun will get up quick. The white lilies will wake up and wash their faces in dew. The birdies will open their eyes. They will say, “Peep, peep! Good-morning, Baby! Get up, up!” Then Baby’s eyelids will open; she will smile and show her six white teeth. All day long the sun will shine. The lilies will grow. The birds will sing, and little Elizabeth will be sweet.

Mrs. C. M. Livingston.

[32]

A GERMAN HOUSEWIFE.

[1]

SPECIAL ANNOUNCEMENT.

ALL ALONG THE LINE.

Last year there were in Iowa fifty-five counties without a single occupant for their jails, during the twelve months. It is in Iowa, you know, that they have the prohibition law which “does not prohibit.” It does seem to make a difference.

Since some towns in Georgia have succeeded in getting the prohibition of the liquor traffic, a minister from one of them writes, “The results are marvelous. The trade of the town has been more than doubled. I do not know a single merchant who would not vote against the liquor traffic purely on business grounds.”

A laborer was recently fined for allowing his dog to drink beer, which made the animal savage. The judge thought it was the man’s fault for allowing his dog to drink. Why shouldn’t a dog have a right to drink beer if it’s given him? How can appetite be controlled? This question has been asked: “If that laborer was under obligation to keep his dog from drinking beer and hurting people, ought we to permit men to receive liquor, and injure themselves and their fellow-men?”

I wonder if the Pansies have been posted about “rubber grapes”? Little rubber bags made to look exactly like large beautiful grapes; but what do you think fills them, instead of the delicious fruit which God has made? Why, brandy, or whiskey, or wine, or whatever liquor the buyer prefers! Think of it! The circular describing them says one great advantage is, “that travellers can refresh themselves in this way without exciting observation.” Can they? Suppose we make that part hard for them; thirty thousand Pansy Blossoms with their eyes wide open are not going to be cheated by rubber grapes. Of course every boy and girl will see to it that no miserable humbug who pretends to be a “fruit dealer” gets any of their money for his cheating grapes. But isn’t Satan smart, and cunning, and busy? Really, it becomes us to keep our eyes very wide open indeed.

Who among us has ever visited the school for Indians in Carlisle, Pa.? If any Pansy Blossom has been there, I wish he or she would write us a letter about the school. It is a very interesting place; four hundred and fifty scholars, boys and girls; the girls in navy-blue dresses and cloaks, the cloaks lined with scarlet, the boys in military dress. With their very bright eyes, and their very black hair, I think they must make a handsome picture.

Industrious people are they; the cooking is done entirely by the pupils; the clothing is all made by them; they even make their own shoes! They are very good scholars; some of them really brilliant.

You wonder how they get time to study, with so much work to be done; that is all nicely planned for them. Half the pupils go to school in the morning, while the other half are at work in the sewing-room, the pantry, the harness shop, the printing office, the carpenter’s room, and the like. In the afternoon these two divisions change places; the students work, and the workmen turn students.

Think what a little while ago these boys and girls were roaming through the forests, sleeping on the ground, their only dress old blankets wrapped about them; learning to be dangerous enemies to all the white race! Now some of them are Christians, and all are well-behaved and industrious. Who will remember to pray daily for the Indian School at Carlisle?

[2n]

The PS Corner

My dear Blossoms:

I have a very nice plan for the year. I wonder who of you will join me? A Bible Band. That is what I now want to form. I will select and have printed in each Pansy a list of readings for each day in the month. How many of my Blossoms will engage to read the day’s portion with me, and write out in little blank books prepared for the purpose, answers to the following questions:

1. What is there in this reading that I ought especially to remember?

2. Is there a direction for me to follow, if so, what?

3. Is there something for me to avoid, if so, what?

How can I make these verses help me through this day?

Now the way I am going to plan it is to read over the verses, and make my report in my little blank book before I leave my room in the morning. Perhaps that will not be a convenient time for all of you. Perhaps the little people who cannot yet read nor write, will have to wait for mamma’s or papa’s or sister’s leisure hour, to get help. But I wish all who could would join me in the morning before going down stairs; then, after the reading, we will kneel down and ask God to help us remember the verses all day.

I would like to have each member of the P. S. who will join this Bible Band, send me a letter addressed to Winter Park, Florida, giving his or her promise to obey the rules of the Band as given here. To all such I will send a little card for their Bible bookmark with the name of the reader written on the back, and the date of the pledge. I shall keep a roll of all members of the Bible Band. At the end of each month I should be glad to have a copy of what you wrote in your little blank books. If you like, you might get a large sheet of paper, the first of the month, and make a copy for me each day, sending it to me at the close of the month.

I shall keep a list of those reports, and, at the close of the year, I will publish the names of those members who have reported each month, and send them each a little token of my pleasure because of their faithfulness.

Now I wonder how large a Band I shall have? Of course I will keep you informed through The Pansy of its size and growth, and send you words of greeting. I think a great many of you will join me. I hope so. It will be very pleasant to think of my Blossoms reading and thinking each day about the same Bible verses. Who will be the first to send in his name, and receive the bookmark?

Lovingly,
Pansy.

P. S.—If any of you know of something unusually nice, which happened at Thanksgiving time, write us an account of it.

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READINGS FOR THE BIBLE BAND ADOPTION.

[3n]

Lucy May Quint. If all the Pansies were as busy as my little friend in Whitefield how very busy I should be adding names to The Pansy roll. Many thanks, my dear. To make your meetings good will require a busy Lucy, thinking, reading, planning, conversing with parents and others, praying Jesus for guidance and comfort, never despairing, no matter what happens to spoil your meetings.

Keep gathering for your meetings, a crumb in this book or paper; another from a talk with some one; and so on. Thus you will always have something on hand.

You had a “nice,” “splendid” time in the church on Children’s Day, amid flowers and singing-birds, evergreens, and, best of all, a good sermon.

It is right to join the church. Now be true, dear, to your covenant, for Jesus’ sake. Don’t let any one who knows you doubt as to whether you are a Christian.

Christiana Lacy. No, the Editor did not forget Sevenfold Trouble, but “Uncle Sam” somehow forgot to get it from the writer to the printer. The mail does not always behave as it should.

Yes; I have read some of Miss Alcott’s works.

You and your friend Jennie seem to have a good standing in school. I am glad to hear good things of every Pansy.

Alice of Minn. “At the farm.” No wonder you like it ever so much; in the orchard, where you have a swing; down at the brook, where you try to catch a speckled trout; among the sheep and cows; riding on hay or wheat from field to barn; then sweet bread and sparkling butter!

As for the dishwashing, how you three girls do chatter while you are at it, and boast as to whose cups and saucers are wiped cleanest. If you will send a copy of the Queer Story, corrected, I can tell if it be right.

Ruth Kimball. Hunting eggs; boating among pond lilies; at Cedar Bend Farm; with such a dear companion as Alice must be, what a happy girl you are. Well, child, make other hearts sunny, too, won’t you?

Gertrude Burgess. None but perfect ones on the Queer Story appears in my report. Many come within one of it; that is a failure all the same as one hundred. See? “A miss is as good as a mile.” So, look your work over and over and over before you send it. Thus you will certainly do perfect work some day. Meanwhile the effort will be a—school to you. You are a blessed girl to be fighting so bravely against that fault. Have you learned how to lean your weakness upon Jesus’ might?

Lydia Sewell. The pansy on the card is larger than many, but no larger than some I’ve seen. By careful culture they grow to great size. Your corrected Queer Story is well done, yet with a few errors. It would be rather unusual if every particular had been right. Still, if you are a girl of good metal, you will certainly tug away at this spelling business till you will know the right as readily as you now know your mamma’s face from five thousand others. Keep on and show yourself a true Pansy soldier.

Lydia I. Boring. Your Queer Story is within one of perfection. So you need not be cast down. Some have made a dozen mistakes. I guess you will be A No. 1 one on the next Queer Story.

Adella F. Coy. Am glad you are pleased to think so kindly of your Pansy picture. I wonder if you have the picture of the Lord engraven on your heart and often look tenderly upon it through the eye of faith and love. Let’s never grow too old to delight in leading and blessing the little ones. You rejoice me in what you say of the badge. Many others say the same thing. If you will send me a corrected copy of the Queer Story I will examine it.

Helen S. Sloan. See above about the Queer Story. You “Busy Bees” made $127. The hospital will think that sweet as honey. You must write D. Lothrop Company, Boston, Mass., about the “prizes.” They will explain.

Mary E. Simpson. At your request, I hand your letter to R. M. Alden. I guess he will not throw it into the waste-basket.

Charlie Compher lives in Leesburg, Va. He will be glad to get a letter from you.

The country is a blessed place. Isn’t it queer that so many country boys and girls don’t think so, but are discontented and want to get to the city, feeling sure that the city will make them happy? Contentment, my dear Mary, is a precious possession.

[4n]

Nannie Johnson. You are eleven years old. Now if you live to be seven times that and each day “grow in grace,” what a beautiful old lady you will be. Of course you will outgrow “carelessness” the first month, and have plenty of time to pick up after mamma, instead of her doing it after you; and the “pony” and “parrot” and “dog” and “dear little baby sister,” and everybody else, I guess, will be glad.

K. G. Boring. A capital account, yours, of your Fourth of July. I can almost see you at the parade, and I’m so glad you got home safely from the crowds and the tramp of horses and that your fingers are not blown off. Rockets and Roman candles seen from the house-top! Balloons, too! Happy child! But what will you say when you see the great Lord coming in the clouds? How rejoiced you will be if you are His at His coming.

May Cameron. Let me commend you for finding so many mistakes in the Queer Story. I must see your work to determine its correctness. As to faults: Many are temper faults; many, disorder; many, teasing, answering back; “wait a minute;” biting nails, etc.

Remember me to Mr. Doane. You seem to be a wide-awake Band of Hope, with your meetings, “Mizpah,” flowers, and care of the sick. To be busy for the Saviour is to be safe from Satan.

Charlie M. Ritter. You are very kind to remember the organ. I wish I could say something to make everything green and beautiful about you. But your turn will come. Wait on the Lord, be of good courage. He hears the young raven when it cries. What a delightful time you must have had on Children’s Day.

Elma Holmes. And while you wear your badge here and there, be sure that you so live that your mother and all the dear ones at home can say, “Our Elma does what she professes.”

Edith G. Grant. I shouldn’t wonder if your Queer Story was correct. Let me see a copy now. Allie will soon learn other good things besides “cutting kindling-wood,” perhaps to read Pansy or Bible stories when mamma is tired. How I should love to visit you in your summer home in “beautiful Tullahoma.” Instead, I went to beautiful Ashville, N. C., in September.

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IN MEMORIAM.

ANOTHER Blossom transplanted into the garden of God. Herbie Baily of Madison, Wis., at the age of ten, July 6th, passed away. With his parents he was attending a Fourth of July celebration, when an accidental ball struck him. Nothing serious was feared till two days later, when, at 8 P. M., he rushed into the house, screaming: “My head! My head! I shall die!” At 11 he breathed his last. Now, can you wonder that this dear boy, “so tender and quick to sympathize with any one in trouble and pain,” to whom “nothing was so charming as the ‘Story of the Bible,’ who delighted in everything pertaining to the life of Christ”—do you wonder that the mother says: “It seems as if I cannot bear his loss?”

Maybe now some loving heart will be prompted to write a word of sympathy to Herbie’s mother, Mrs. A. S. Baily.

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WHERE ARE YOU?

Sylbil L. Anderson, Gilbert Anderson, Lizzie Carnes, Addie R. Crane, Estelle Duncan, Edith R. Foster, Mrs. Joshua Gowing, Josie ——, of Amesbury, Mass., Carrie I. Glauche, H. H. Hass, Jessie M. Hatch, John W. Holland, Marcella McDougall, Mabel A. Morse, Rose Price, Christine and Ollie Seely, Alice Stone, Rena B. Williams, and H. G. Shattuck, A. S. Willick, S. Willard Wood, Norma E. Wood, Mary W. Wells, Nellie M. Merritt.

To nearly all these names letters, with badges enclosed, have gone and returned. Most failed to give post-office, State, county, Street, or number. Write me now and say just where I may send these letters. Be plain and particular.

——————————

MIRZA ALI’S LETTER.

Dear, magnanimous Mr. Wright:

First: I hope your existence is safe and you have no bodily ailment. Second: If you wish to inquire my health, I thank God, I and my mother and my sister are very well, and we are thanking to our Lord and Saviour in return for His gifts. My words will not be finished if I want to count the gifts of our God. It is only sufficient[5n] to write that He gave His beloved Son, Jesus Christ, and saved us from death.

If you wish to acquire of circumstances of gentlemen and ladies, the missionaries, thank be God, all they are safe and busy to cause to reach the good news to the multitudes.

Their families and ladies are safe. Our school and the teacher, Baroon Wahan, and the scholars are safe; every day is Baroon Wahan busy to teach them. They learn the means of holy books.

I, ownself also, every day in the mornings am busy to give lessons in Turkish to my dear Sir Mr. Whipple, agent of the American Bible Society. Other times I am in telegraph office. There I write the subjects; there I am busy till night and night we finish. These days I give lessons in English to the son of chief of telegraph, and both the son of Aga Mirza Abdul Ali, the doctor. I am sorry I have no dictionary from Persian to English. When I want to translate a book from Turkish to English it is not possible. I remain unable and become unequal. If I have this dictionary I hope I will spread English abroad. You are my benefactor; you are my kind and merciful friend.

If you have not any more Dictionary and you have one only and it is necessary for yourself also, you cannot send (it) for me. You promise to me that you write to Constantinople or America. They send for me. You calculate it present, given at Festival time to me. I hope you desperate not me, but you will help me.... I am expecting for answer. I hope you will send me that book and you will make me glad and happy. If you have order, write me. I will execute and perform it. I will obey to all your commands. The grace of our Lord Jesus Christ be with you. Amen! And God may increase your love for Jesus, His beloved Son. Amen! If you find and see some mistake shut your eyes from my faults. Excuse me, sir. It is the first letter I wrote in English.

Mirza Ali,
The teacher of Mr. Whipple.

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THE QUER STOREY.

WEN the Pansy Socity begun, thar was a boy, whos name musent be given. His mother tride to purswade him to plege his-self aganst useing sigars. He had became a grate smoker. The supertenent of the sundy schol of wich this boy was a nenber tride two. But he dident want a bage or too have his apetite controled. He became verry bad, folowing anny and evry boddy abowt too git a sigar. This brout him into the salloons, whar he lernt two drink lagger bier and sware and tel storys.

If all the sigars, wich he has smoked sence that was lain end too end, thay wood reech neerly one fifth of a mile!

How menny galons of bier he has drank and how menny oths he has swoar woold take too larg a peice off paper to rite them all onto, i am sory two hav to anounce, he is not giting enny beter.

[Send a corrected copy to Mrs. Alden.]

The following persons have mastered the Queer Story. A few others may have done so, but not having sent their copy for examination it is impossible for me to know:

Glenroy L. Black, Lucy Dickerson, Charlotte Fitch, Louise Hosmer, Cora J. Russell, Margaret Hoyt, Jessie Strengle, Hallie Edwards, Daisy Vaughan, Lydia Boring, Agnes Oliver.

Several others came within one or two words of perfection.

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NEW BOOKS.

(Published by D. Lothrop Company.)

Soldier and Servant. By Ella M. Baker. Price $1.25; to Pansy Society 75 cents. A thoroughly good book for girls, with not a dull page in it. The young Christian cannot fail to be helped by the story of Lisle’s pure true life as soldier and servant.

After School Days. By Lucy Wheelock. Price $1.00; to Pansy Society 60 cents. It is a thousand pities that the sensational fiction which constitutes the chief reading of many of our older girls could not be replaced by such simple, charming stories as this one. It is bright and healthful, and filled with good lessons, both practical and spiritual.

Swiss Stories. From the German of Madame Johanna Spyri. By Lucy Wheelock. Price $1.00. To Pansy Society 60 cents. A lovely[6n] book within and without; just the thing for a gift. It is not simply amusing; every child who reads it cannot fail of being helped by its pure, sweet lessons. We quote a few pages from “Lisa’s Christmas”:

“The next day the great question was, what the lamb’s name would be.

“Lisa proposed calling it Eulalie, for that was the name of her friend’s cat, and it seemed to her an especially fine name. But the boys did not like it. It was too long. Kurt proposed Nero, as the big dog at the mill was called. But Lisa and Karl were not pleased with this name.

“In despair they went to their mother, who suggested he should be called ‘Curlyhead,’ and Curlyhead he was from that forth.

“The little creature soon became a great pet for the children. They took him out for a frolic whenever they had a few spare moments. Sometimes they went to the pasture and Kurt and Karl would search for rich, juicy clover leaves to bring him, while Lisa sat on a bank with the little creature’s head in her lap.

“Whenever a child was sent on an errand to the mill or to the baker’s, the lamb must go, and he listened so intelligently to all the conversation his companion addressed to him that it was evident he understood every word. He grew round as a ball, and his wool was as white and pretty as if he was always in his Sunday dress.

“The beautiful sunny autumn was drawing to a close, Christmas was coming, Kurt and Karl disclosed all their cherished dreams to Curlyhead, and assured him he should have his share of holiday presents.

“Lisa had a particular friend, Marie, who lived in the great farmhouse on the way to the Zillesback. Lisa was very anxious to visit this friend, for she could talk over her prospects for Christmas more fully with her than with her brothers. She had permission to go on her first free afternoon, and when the time came she was so impatient to start, that she could hardly hold still long enough for her mother to tie on her warm scarf. Then she ran bounding off, while her mother watched her until she was half-way down the hill; then she turned and went into the house again.

“At that moment it came into Lisa’s mind that Curlyhead would enliven the way if her brothers had not already taken him. She quickly turned around, ran back to the barn and took out Curlyhead. Together they ran down the hard path where the bright autumn leaves were dancing about in the wind. They soon reached the end of their journey, where Lisa and her friend where quickly lost in deep conversation, walking up and down on the sunny plot of ground in front of the house, while Curlyhead nibbled contentedly at the hedge.

“The two friends refreshed themselves occasionally with pears, and juicy, red apples, which grew in great abundance on the farm.

“Marie’s mother had brought out a great basketful, and Lisa was to carry home what were left. When it was time for Lisa to go home, Marie accompanied her a little way, and they still had so much to say that they were in sight of Lisa’s home before they knew it. Marie quickly took leave of her, and Lisa hurried up the path. It was already dark. Just as she reached the house the thought flashed through her mind like lightning: ‘Where is Curlyhead?’

“She knew she had taken him with her. She had seen him nibbling the hedge and then she had entirely forgotten him.

“In a most dreadful fright she rushed back down the mountain again. ‘Curlyhead, Curlyhead, where are you? Oh, come, come!’

“But all was still. Curlyhead was nowhere to be seen. Lisa ran back to the farmhouse. There was a light already in the window of the sitting-room, and she could look in from the stone steps by the house. They were all at the supper-table; father, mother, Marie and her brothers and the servants. The old cat lay on the bench by the stove; but nowhere was there a trace of Curlyhead to be seen as Lisa peered into all the corners. Then she ran around the house into the garden, around the hedge, again into the garden, and along the inside of the hedge, calling ‘Curlyhead, come now, oh! come, come!’

“All in vain; there was no sight or sound of the lamb. Lisa grew more anxious. It grew darker and the wind howled louder and louder, and almost blew her from the ground. She must go home. What should she do? She did not dare to say she had lost Curlyhead. If she could see her mother alone first!”

[7n]

Does not set quickly like the old style Glue; has four times the strength. No Heating. These Glues are used in the Smithsonian Institute at Washington for all its works of mounting specimens, by the Government Arsenals and Department Buildings, by the Pullman Palace Car Co., Mason & Hamlin Organ and Piano Co., and by thousands of first-class manufacturers and mechanics throughout the world for all kinds of fine work. Pronounced STRONGEST ADHESIVE KNOWN. Sold in tin cans for mechanics and amateurs, and in bottles for family use. The total quantity sold between Jan. 1880, and 1887, in all parts of the world amounted to over Forty-Seven Million bottles. Don’t be cajoled into buying the various Liquid Glues which are being put on the market; some with high-sounding names; others imitating our trade-marks and name as near as they dare; their only cry is: “Just as good as LePage’s.” It is the best recommendation that the RUSSIA CEMENT CO. could have of the merits of their glues. Labels of our CANS are black and yellow; BOTTLES, red, yellow, green and black, with a line of blue. We have just commenced manufacturing our NEW PATENT CAN—which has the following advantages: The top can be turned on or off readily by the fingers—each Can has brush fastened to the inside of cover, and a wiper to take off superfluous glue. This arrangement enables the amateur or artisan to carry a small can in the pocket ready for immediate use, without danger of soiling from brush or can. The NEW PATENT CAN is in 3 sizes:—Half-pint, gill and half-gill.—Regular Cans, pint, quart, 2-quart and gallon. Bottles, two sizes, as heretofore: 1 oz. and 2 oz. Be sure and get the GENUINE LePAGE’S, MADE ONLY BY THE RUSSIA CEMENT CO., Gloucester, Mass.

PARKER’S With it you can stamp more than 1000 PATTERNS

STAMPING OUTFIT Exceeds in value all other outfits, $1.00. Sent anywhere by mail, prepaid.

This outfit contains book teaching every known Method of stamping, price 25 cents; Box Best Powder and Pad, 15 cts.; Materials for Indelible Stamping on Plush, Felt, etc., 15 cts.; Materials and Instruction for Parker’s New Method (copyrighted), No Paint, No Powder, No Daub, 50 cents; New 1888 Catalogue (showing all the new stamping patterns), 10 cents; and Illustrated Wholesale Price List of Embroidery Materials, Infant’s Wardrobes, Corsets, Jewelry, and everything ladies need.

SAVE MONEY BY BUYING AT WHOLESALE.
PARKER’S LAST INVENTION.

A SET OF DESIGNING PATTERNS.—With this set any one can design thousands of beautiful pieces for Embroidery, Tinsel Work, Painting, etc. No experience needed—a child can do it. An Illustrated Book shows how to make patterns to fill any space; all the flowers used in embroidery represented. Every one who does stamping wants a set, which can be had only with this outfit. This outfit also contains TWO HUNDRED or more Stamping Patterns ready for use. The following being only a partial list:—Splasher Design, 22 in., 50 cents; Roses, 12 in., and Daisies, 12 in., for scarf or tidies, 25 cents each; Wide Tinsel Design, 12 in., 25 cents; Strips of Scallops for Flannels, wide and narrow, 30 cts.; Braiding Patterns 10 cts.; Splash! Splash! “Good Night,” and “Good Morning,” for pillow shams, two fine outline designs for tidies, 6x8, 50 cts.; Tray Cloth Set, 50 cts.; Teapot, Sugar, Cream, Cup and Saucer, etc.; Pond Lilies, 9x12, 25 cts.; 2 Alphabets, $1.00; 2 Sets Numbers, 30 cts.; Patterns of Golden Rod, Sumac, Daisies, Roses, &c., Tinsel and Outline Patterns, Disks, Crescents, &c.

In addition to all these and many other patterns we enclose a Coupon good for $1 worth of patterns of your own selection chosen from our catalogue.

The Modern Priscilla (the only practical fancy work journal in America), by arrangement with the publishers, will also be sent free for one year.

Devoted exclusively to
LADIES’ FANCY WORK.

[8n]

Sunday School books have been growing better and better for many years; and yet we think they are scarcely keeping pace with the general forward movement. Indeed the improvement in Sunday School books has been largely brought about by mixing with them books designed for wider use.

Why not then widen the word to cover the fact, and get such other books for Sunday Schools as are fit for rising young people, books to help them rise?

That is the direction in which D. Lothrop Company has been working for several years; and its Sunday School books are largely made up of reading and pictures by no means confined to religious subjects. Now it goes still further in the direction of the popular tendency, and offers for Sunday Schools a separate list of books not often thought of for that purpose.

Everybody knows that children, especially boys, are apt to prefer a library where all sorts of books are within their reach. Such browsing unrestrained is apt to lead downward rather than up. But why not let the Sunday School library have the attraction without the danger? Why not afford the delight of inspiring, instructive, helpful literature in some of the books and religious teaching in others without the popular trash?

So two separate lists of books for the Sunday School library: one of modern (not “goody-goody” or stupid) Sunday School books, the other of secular books for the rising young.

These lists are arranged according to the relative acceptability of the books as shown in the main by the numbers called for. (1) religious Sunday School books; and (2) secular Sunday School books.

The books in both lists are arranged in the order of their acceptability. And so the lists are a help in choosing books. The majority vote may not be an infallible standard; but is there a better, especially when the voters are well-informed about what they are voting on?

The man who makes and sells a thing is the man who knows its quality; for the opinions of those who use it get around to him, and that very promptly. These lists are made with just that knowledge.

First and foremost of the decidedly religious books are the Pansy books. Pansy herself is a leader of children. She opens her mouth—they are eager to catch her lightest word. She raises her hand—instinctively up go theirs. The secret of such a power as that is sympathy, feeling together.

So in her books. She enters into their smallest experiences. The boys and girls of her books, the children of her brain, are just like her readers, natural flesh and blood; not life-like but real, just as real as you are yourself. They live in their world with the rest of us; have their ups and downs, perplexities, such as come to us all; and they win. So shall we who read!

That is inspiration. The reader becomes the actor, the hero, the heroine. Happy the writer who uses such power as that for helping, guiding, building up.

There are more than a hundred “Pansy books,” mostly by Pansy herself, a few by one or two helpers, a few by others altogether. They constitute, we may fairly say, the very highest class of traditional Sunday School books. They belong to the highest order of Sunday School work.

D. Lothrop Company, Boston, is just now getting out these lists of religious and secular Sunday School books, arranged with a view of marking their relative popularity. The Pansy books are at the top of the religious list, and Arthur Gilman’s History of the American People heads the secular list.

Send for the primer—sent free by the publishers.

Babyland is so good a diversion for baby and help for the mother that it ought to be in every baby family. Pictures and jingles and laughter. Baby will study in spite of you.

[1p]

The Things you are going to have your choice of—you who look about among your neighbors and help them pick out their reading and pictures.

It is a neighborly act. And the time to begin to be careful of reading and pictures is when the baby can understand them. Let them come in the following order:

Think of a life not only unhurt by wrong reading and pictures, but helped by right reading and pictures all the way through! It is a neighborly act!

We make such Terms as you never heard of—for work.

D LOTHROP COMPANY
PUBLISHERS OF BOOKS AND MAGAZINES
BOSTON

[2p]

Who Skips This Page Will Please Skip All

Premiums are pay for work and nothing else. That work is getting new subscriptions. It is done when you send the names, addresses and money. Then you take your choice of the things in the List.

This work is of great importance to us, no matter how little there is to be done in your neighborhood. We pay for it all the money there is; we pay in such a way as to make it more to you than it is to us, especially if you happen to live where good new things are hard to get, where the stores are stocked with things that are going out of use instead of with things that are coming into use.

We put in the List the best we can get and the best we can get for the money: some things because it is worth your while to know about them; others to answer wants we know exist—we put in nothing to be ashamed of. Some things are commonplace; not all are new or hard to get; but those we emphasize are worthy of careful study.

To be in the List at all is commendation. To be described is high commendation.

Premiums are due when the names and money are here, and may be taken at any time thereafter, the sooner the better for us. You can have them right along as you earn them, or wait a little and have more together and save a part of the cost of transportation; but the sooner you take them the surer you are of getting them. Some will be gone by and by.

All costs for freight, express and postage are paid by receiver, except postage on books, magazines and a few small things on which the postage is only a cent or two.

The postage on mailable things is stated in the List except as above. [When the postage is not stated: if the thing weighs only an ounce or two, we pay the postage; but, if heavier, it must go by express.] It is often true that mailable things go for less by express. We send the cheapest way, if we know it.

Some things are sent direct from the makers to save expense.

Everything over four pounds, too big for the mail, or for any reason unmailable, goes by express; and you pay the freight on receipt.

You can generally find out about how much by guessing the size and weight and inquiring at your express office.

You can economize freights to some extent by having several things in one package.

We pack with care and deliver to carrier in good condition. That is all we can do. Beyond that the risk is yours. We register packages going by mail if you send the registry fee, ten cents a package, in addition to postage.

We pay for new subscriptions; not for renewals. What is the difference? A new one is that of a family not on our list before.

We pay premiums in good faith. We expect them to be earned in good faith. A subscriber may stop one magazine and become a new subscriber to another; but change of a magazine from one name to another in a family is not a new subscription. Your own subscription (if new) may count with others (not alone) for premiums. We have got to draw the line somewhere. We don’t reckon too closely, nor suspect bad faith too readily. We prefer to deal a little generously; but we don’t intend to be really imposed upon.

To be entitled to premiums you must send subscriptions direct to the publishers, not to another agent. We don’t pay twice for the same subscription.

You are entrusted with money for us by the subscribers you get. You are their agent, not ours. Be faithful to them. Send their names and money as soon as you get them. You are responsible to them till we get the names, addresses and money together. Then you are free.

Subscriptions begin at any time. If you neglect to name a date, we guess as well as we can.

The volumes begin as follows: Wide Awake, December and June; Chautauqua Young Folks’ Journal, December; Pansy, November; Our Little Men and Women, January; Babyland, January.

No deviation in prices; no credit (send name, address and money together); remit by post-office money order, by American Express Company’s money order, by registered letter or by bank check (postage stamps may be sent in registered letters for change); write plainly and fully; give subscribers’ full addresses (they may be different); sign your name and give your full address in every communication.

The foregoing relates to premiums sent within the United States.

To the British North American Colonies other premiums have to be sent by express, the receiver paying whatever costs the tariff may impose; but magazines and books may be sent to these colonies by mail. There is a duty on books; not on magazines.

Things in the List are also sold for money, payment in advance, no discount, no charge for packing, sent at receiver’s cost and risk.

Wait for return mail and a week besides before you conclude your letter or our reply has gone astray; then write particulars: date of your sending, how you remitted, how much.

The first step to take is to send us 15 cents for specimen copies of all five magazines, subscription blanks and other helps.

D LOTHROP COMPANY
PUBLISHERS OF BOOKS AND MAGAZINES
BOSTON

[3p]

Jack-straws, two sets. Prices 25 and 50 cents; for 30 and 60 cents in new subscriptions. Postage 3 cents. One set contains more pieces and also more sorts—ladders, spades, hoes, mallets, arrows, etc., of variously-colored wood.

Cultivates delicate handling and ingenuity.

Puzzle Map of the United States, on oblong paper blocks to be matched together. Price 25 cents; for 30 cents in new subscriptions. Postage 6 cents.

Teaches what we elders need to study—where the States are.

The Frisky Cow. Price 50 cents; for 60 cents in new subscriptions. Postage 44 cents—express may be less. Size 6 by 8 by 12 inches.

For little people. Johnny rolls the ball and hits the knob on the right, rings a bell and counts 10. Susan hits the middle knob, counts 20, and the cow jumps over the moon.

One of the jolliest toys we know of.

Shadow Transformations. Price 25 cents; for 30 cents in new subscriptions. Postage 6 cents.

Figures cut out of cards cast shadows from any sort of light. The shadows are silhouette pictures. The combinations are hundreds. There is more fun in them than we can put on paper.

Stimulates invention and design; for nobody stops with these cards.

Toy Money in a cash-box. Price 25 cents; for 30 cents in new subscriptions. Postage 4 cents.

The coins are printed card-board copies like the picture, only full size.

“Playing store” teaches the little merchants a great deal more than arithmetic; and how can they make change without money?

Historiscope. Price $1; for $1.25 in new subscriptions. Postage 10 cents.

A panorama of scenes in American history, with a brief “lecture.” You turn that little crank, and the “lecture” explains the pictures.

American Toy Village. Price $1; for $1.25 in new subscriptions. Postage 12 cents.

The buildings etc., which are painted wood, may be arranged on the lithographed “plan” as in the picture, or on a table, or lawn, or sand.

[4p]

Words and Sentences, a game, variations of which are known by several other names, Logomachy, War of Words, etc. Price 25 or 50 cents; for 30 or 60 cents in new subscriptions. Postage 3 cents and 7 cents. Two styles, one more substantial than the other and in wood box.

A family game by no means confined to children. Cultivates knowledge of words and facility in their use.

Checker Men. Price 10 cents; for 15 cents in new subscriptions. Postage 7 cents.

Thirty double-face pieces 1¼ inches diameter.

Halma. Price $1; for $1.25 in new subscriptions. Postage 22 cents.

“The only important board game purely of skill invented since checkers and chess.” Introduced two years ago and said to be very popular. Large flat folding paper board and box with men and instructions.

Chess, Checkers and Halma in one. Price $1.75; for $2 in new subscriptions. Goes by express.

Checker board on one side, halma on the other, with cherry frame and trough for the men, 19x19 inches: chess, checkers and halma men and directions for halma.

Carpet Bowls. Price 50 cents; for 60 cents in new subscriptions. Postage 32 cents.

Like quoits, except that the balls are rolled instead of tossed, and the hub is a ball that gets moved about as the game goes on.

Snap. Price 25 cents; for 30 cents in new subscriptions. Postage 4 cents.

Teaches quickness.

Social Hours. Price 50 cents; for 60 cents in new subscriptions. Postage 10 cents.

A pamphlet of games, tricks, illusions and puzzles, with a box of requisite things to play with. A very large number; too many to count.

Matched Pictures, scenes in the far West. Price 25 cents; for 30 cents in new subscriptions. Postage 7 cents.

Forty oblong pieces go together in a great many ways and make as many different pictures.

Doll’s Dressmaking Bazaar. Price $1; for $1.25 in new subscriptions. Postage 25 cents.

Paper dolls’ heads, arms, legs, dress-stuffs, laces, ornaments; an immense variety. Patterns to cut by. Instructions. The figures are handsomely lithographed on varnished paper.

Interchangeable Combination Circus. Price 75 cents; for 90 cents in new subscriptions. Postage 20 cents.

A set of sectional pictures. The circus performs whatever part of the programme you choose amid the huzzahs of the spectators.

Evening Party. Price 25 cents; for 30 cents in new subscriptions. Postage 6 cents.

A boxful of games, puzzles, charades, rebuses, tricks, conundrums, etc.; a houseful of frolic and fun.

[5p]

Checker and Backgammon boards, hinged boxes, with dice-cups and men. No 1, 8x14 inches closed, price $1; for $1.25 in new subscriptions. Postage 25 cents. No. 2, 7x12, price 75 cents; for 90 cents in new subscriptions. Postage 20 cents. No. 3, 6x10½, price 50 cents; for 60 cents in new subscriptions. Postage 12 cents. They differ also in wood and finish.

Kindergarten souvenir-material (Bradley’s). Tinted card with diagrams and colored illustrations, by which children are taught to cut, fold, embroider and make a great variety of beautiful useful things. A generous boxful. Price $1; for $1.25 in new subscriptions. Postage 26 cents.

Chess Men. Price 50 cents; for 60 cents in new subscriptions. Postage 10 cents.

Building Blocks. Price 25 and 50 cents; for 30 and 60 cents in new subscriptions. Postage 30 and 60 cents. Express may be less.

As many blocks as cents; not painted.

Fascinator, balls and cues, indoors or out. The boys will know the rest from the picture. Price $1; for $1.25 in new subscriptions.

Teaches skill with eye and hand.

Kindergarten Occupation. Price $1; for $1.25 in new subscriptions. Postage 32 cents.

Weaving, embroidering, ring-laying, stick-laying, etc. A large box of materials with instructions.

Pitch-a-Ring and Ring Toss. Price $1; for $1.25 in new subscriptions. Postage 40 cents—express may be less.

The rings are made pretty and soft with plaiting of colored cotton, and the box they come in serves for base.

Go Bang, Tivoli, and Fox and Geese. Price $1.25; for $1.50 in new subscriptions. Postage 33 cents.

Leather-covered two-book-shape box, 2x7½x14 inches, turned wood men.

Parcheesi. Price $1; for $1.25 in new subscriptions. Postage 25 cents.

Size of closed board 9½x18½x⅜ inches. Brass-bound paper men; dice-boxes.

Checkered Game of Life. Price $1; for $1.25 in new subscriptions. Postage 15 cents.

Size of closed board 8x16⅜ inches; wood men; counters; teetotum.

[6p]

Set of Games No. 1 containing each in a box: A lot of puzzles; Old Maid; Round Up; Five Senses; Old Salt’s Yarn; Auction; Scramble; Steeple-Chase. Price 15 cents each; any three for 50 cents in new subscriptions. Postage 3 cents each.

Set of Games No. 2 containing each in a little box: Old Maid; Jack Straws; Fortunes; Seth Spook’s Visit to Chicago; Beast, Bird, Fish; Go Bang; Selected Authors; Riddles; Optical Illusions; Tortoise and Hare; Siege; Historical Dates. 6 cents each; any four for 30 cents in new subscriptions. Postage 5 cents for the four.

Old Maid improved. Price 25 cents; for 30 cents in new subscriptions. Postage 4 cents.

Solitaire. Price 50 cents; for 60 cents in new subscriptions. Postage 25 cents.

With bowls for marbles in play and a drawer.

Perfection folding table. Price $1.25; for $1.50 in new subscriptions. By express.

Top 19x30 inches and adjustable to eight heights between 23½ and 29 inches. Half-yard inch measure and checkers on it.

Postage-stamp album with classified spaces for 2400 stamps and 264 engravings. Price 50 cents (cloth binding 75 cents); for 60 cents in new subscriptions (cloth binding for 90 cents). Postage 5 cents.

One hundred postage stamps to begin with; price 25 cents; for 30 cents in new subscriptions.

Savings Bank. Price $1; for $1.25 in new subscriptions. Postage 17 cents.

The music and dancing last half a minute after a penny is put into it. Goes by clock-work. Well made and not likely to get out of order. The music is imaginary, except the clatter of the dancer’s feet.

Printing outfit. Price $2.50; for $3 in new subscriptions.

Consists of a practical press of the slightest possible character, roller, one font of type, one case, leads, furniture, ink and fifty cards. Weight of the whole in a box about seven pounds. A boy with the requisite printing wit can do small jobs with it. Size of chase 2x3½ inches.

Woods Air Line Gun. Price $1; for $1.10 in new subscriptions. Postage 30 cents.

The “barrel” is a straight wire; the bullet a wood spool; the force a coil of steel wire. Target with pocket to catch the bullets. Also a torpedo target.

Bullets for the Woods gun; 25 for 10 cents; for 15 cents in new subscriptions. Postage 5 cents.

[7p]

Doll’s Britannia Tea-set. Price 25 cents; for 35 cents in new subscriptions. Postage 12 cents.

About 20 pieces, teapot 3 inches high.

Sand-mill, that is, a water-wheel driven by sand instead of water, with a wooden man pretending to turn the crank outside. The mechanical boy will rig a pulley and get a good deal of work out of it. Sand play is the chief amusement of children at the seaside.

Price 25 cents; for 35 cents in new subscriptions. Postage 15 cents.

Toy scales 6½ inches long. Price 25 cents; for 35 cents in new subscriptions. Postage 17 cents.

Locomotive and tender of malleable iron japanned and gilt. Connecting-rods work, wheels turn and bell rings. 20 inches long, and weighs seven pounds. None so substantial and life-like ever made before for anything like the money. Price $2; for $2.50 in new subscriptions. Western orders filled from Chicago to save express.

Whistle. Price 30 cents; for 35 cents in new subscriptions.

Celluloid; looks like ivory. Trills.

Musical top. Price 30 cents; for 35 cents in new subscriptions. Postage 4 cents.

Reeds inside of it, sing as it spins and change their notes with a touch.

Locomotive 12-inch. Price $2; for $2.50 in new subscriptions. Postage 35 cents.

Goes by clock-work. Gong in the cab rings loudly.

Locomotive engine 10 inches long. Price $1; for $1.25 in new subscriptions. Postage 30 cents.

Goes by clock-work. Bell does not ring.

Weeden engine. Price $1.25; for $1.35 in new subscriptions. Postage 35 cents.

Quite an elaborate, handsome and well-made engine, 8½ inches high, with safety-valve, whistle, smoke-stack, thumb-screws to let steam on and off and to whistle, heavy fly-wheel and double pulley. Goes half an hour with one firing and watering. Made of nickeled tin and brass. Power enough for a great variety of play-work.

Engine. Price 50 cents; for 60 cents in new subscriptions. Postage 5 cents.

A little rough; but a boy can whittle it smooth; 5 inches high; with all the necessary parts. Goes as long as the water and alcohol last and drives a little light machinery. Even this is enough to find out a boy with mechanical bent.

[8p]

Propeller “Neptune,” an iron boat 10 inches long with a working engine strong enough to drive it briskly across the mill-pond for 20 or 30 minutes. Not really iron; mostly brass; the hull painted black with red stripe along the gunwale. A saucy craft, but not at all dangerous.

Price $2.25; for $2.50 in new subscriptions. Postage 15 cents.

Revolving Wall Blackboard and desk slate. Price 50 cents; for 60 cents in new subscriptions.

Size 16½x17 inches, including frame and trough for eraser and crayons. Outline designs on frame for drawing.

Doll’s Folding Chair. Price 25 cents; for 30 cents in new subscriptions. Postage 7 cents.

Natural cherry, surprisingly well made and smooth. The seat is of pretty cretonne. Total height 11½ inches.

Doll’s High Chair with table-leaf and wood tea-set. Price 25 cents; for 30 cents in new subscriptions. Postage 11 cents.

Daintily made of fine white-wood printed to imitate cane seat, etc.

It comes “flat;” and dolly’s maternal uncle puts it together. Foot-and-a-half high.

Doll’s Chamber Set. Price $1; for $1.25 in new subscriptions.

Cherry, four pieces: bedstead 17x8x9 inches, bureau with bright tin mirror, pretty folding chair and table. All come “flat” and go together beautifully.

Doll’s Carriage. Price 25 cents; for 30 cents in new subscriptions. Postage 8 cents. A folding easy chair on wheels; fine white-wood; pretty cretonne seat; arms of bright silk cord.

Dolly’s Own Album of nearly two hundred transfer pictures; 7 cents; for 10 cents in new subscriptions.

Folding Desk Blackboard with rolling sheet of more than a hundred designs for drawing. Price $1; for $1.25 in new subscriptions.

Height 3 feet; blackboard 14x18 inches.

[9p]

Doll’s Cradle. Price 25 cents; for 30 cents in new subscriptions. Postage 15 cents.

White-wood, 7½ x 8½ x 16 inches. Comes “flat.”

Sliced Animals. Price 30 cents; for 40 cents in new subscriptions. Postage 12 cents.

Colored pictures of animals on strips of card-board with letters on one end. When the strips are put together right the animal’s name is there too.

Sliced Objects. Price 30 cents; for 40 cents in new subscriptions. Postage 12 cents.

Yacht, engine, boat, car, fort, church, house, dam, bridge, coach, fountain, statue; all on strips and mixed together.

Sliced Birds. Price 30 cents; for 40 cents in new subscriptions. Postage 12 cents.

Britannia Collapsing Cup in a tin box. Price 20 cents; for 25 cents in new subscriptions. Postage 7 cents.

Nickeled Collapsing Cup in a watch-case. Price 50 cents; for 60 cents in new subscriptions. Postage 7 cents.

Dominoes. Price 50 cents; for 60 cents in new subscriptions. Postage 15 cents.

In neat and substantial wood box.

Triumph toy Clothes-wringer, handy for small pieces as well as for dolly’s things. Rolls three inches long. Works perfectly. Price 50 cents; for 60 cents in new subscriptions. Postage 15 cents.

Doll, No. 204, 20½-inches high, undressed, except chemise trimmed with lace and ribbon, bisque head, arms and legs, washable. Price $1.25; for $1.50 in new subscriptions. Postage 30 cents.

Dressed Doll Nellie, 14 inches high, in full summer dress set off with lace and ribbons, hat, lace hose and leather shoes; bisque head, arms and legs. Price $1.25; for $1.50 in new subscriptions. Postage 25 cents.

In-door Ball. Price 25 cents; for 30 cents in new subscriptions.

Very light rubber, 3¼-inch blown up.

Doll’s Tea-set. Price $1.25; for $1.60 in new subscriptions.

China, gayly decorated, 20 to 25 pieces. Cups about 2 inches across; tea-pot 5 inches high.

Drawing Teacher. Price 25 cents; for 30 cents in new subscriptions. Postage 7 cents.

Thick paper stencils for pencil drawings; designs; a supply of suitable paper.

[10p]

Drum. Price $1.25; for $1.50 in new subscriptions.

Hammered brass body; sheepskin heads; red-white-and-blue cords and belt; 13 inch.

Daisy Ten-pins. Price 50 cents; for 60 cents in new subscriptions. Postage 30 cents.

The pins are lithographed figures of boys and girls in holiday dress and the balls are solid gilt.

Tin Kitchen. Price 60 cents; for 75 cents in new subscriptions. Postage 30 cents.

Size 7x12x4 inches; about 20 pieces; pump pumps water.

Fire Engine. Price $6; for $6.50 in new subscriptions.

Pumps from a reservoir, and at the same time throws a continuous stream. Consists of boiler, engine, force-pump, water and steam gauges, air-chamber, hose and hose-pipe. Size 5x10½x9 inches, exclusive of pole. The machine is an excellent one; the engraving is not a good one.

Doll’s Head No. 38-24, bisque, 3 inches across shoulders. Price 30 cents; for 40 cents in new subscriptions. Postage 7 cents.

Doll’s Head No. 710, bisque, 3½ inch, closing eyes, fine curls. Price 75 cents; for $1 in new subscriptions. Postage 8 cents.

Doll’s Wash-set. Price 25 cents; for 35 cents in new subscriptions. Postage 30 cents.

Tub 9 x 5 inches. The wringer does not wring.

Fairy Sewing-machine. Price $3; for $3.25 in new subscriptions. Postage 35 cents.

Actually sews, and is really useful to put in one’s trunk for a summer trip—the best of hand sewing-machines are silly at home.

This isn’t silly, because it teaches dolly’s mamma to cut and make her own dresses. An excellent play-thing for an industrious little girl, though we suppose it is made for serious use. Size 5x6 inches.

Japanese Tivoli, Price 25 cents; for 30 cents in new subscriptions. Postage 20 cents.

Jap lies on his back, heels up, with a marble in the bowl on his boots, Tommy touches the spring and counts according to where the marble goes.

[11p]

Large Jack-knife. Price 75 cents; for 90 cents in new subscriptions. Postage 4 cents.

Bull’s-eye lantern. Price 75 cents; for 90 cents in new subscriptions. Postage 20 cents.

For hand or belt; 3-inch lens.

A good photographing outfit complete for $2.50—Horsman’s “Eclipse”—for $2.75 in new subscriptions.

There is no better for less than $10. It is not good enough to take portraits. It is good enough for views containing persons or groups. That is, it gives attitudes and aspects perfectly; not the fine details of expression and feature. For ten cents we send two specimen photographs (largest size, 3x4 inches) taken with it.

An average boy or girl of twelve years can use it successfully and make about as good pictures with it as with any $10 camera.

The outfit consists of a small camera covered with imitation morocco, six rapid dry plates, two japanned-iron trays, two bottles of developer, package of hypo-sulphite of soda, printing-frame, six sheets of silvered and six of blue-print paper, bottle of toning solution, dozen card mounts, plate-lifter, sheet of ruby paper, directions for making a cheap ruby lamp, and full instructions for every part of the work. Weight about 3½ pounds; postage 60 cents—express may be less.

After supplies—Particulars in a circular sent on request.

Foot-ball, two sizes, 6 and 9 inch. Prices $1 and $1.50; for $1.25 and $1.75 in new subscriptions. Postage on either 10 cents.

Made of heavy canvas coated with rubber, stout, blown up with key.

Village Blacksmith. Price 50 cents; for 60 cents in new subscriptions. Postage 10 cents.

The blower works the bellows and the blacksmith wields his hammer. Worked by the engine.

Fishing outfit. Price $1.15; for $1.35 in new subscriptions. Postage 20 cents.

12-foot jointed rod, brass tips and ferrules, bob, sinkers, 36-foot line, dozen assorted hooks, pickerel trolling-hook, ganged hooks with hair or gut snell, flies, and bait-box. Neat and substantial.

“Winchester” double-barrel Rifle. Price 50 cents; for 60 cents in new subscriptions. Postage 15 cents.

A rather easy gun. Covered-rubber spring.

Wilcox target Gun. Price $1; for $1.25 in new subscriptions. Postage 20 cents.

Covered-rubber spring; removable cross-piece; bayonet; breech box for darts and targets.

“Dr. Carver” Gun. Price 50 cents; for 60 cents in new subscriptions. Postage 17 cents.

A savage rubber-spring gun adjustable as to force.

[12p]

“World” Type-Writer. Price $8; for $10 in new subscriptions.

It is with gratification as complete as it was unexpected that we put this machine in the list.

It prints more neatly and perfectly than the Remington; not so fast and not so easily. A scholar’s type-writer; a type-writer for business not requiring speed or amount of work. Whoever wants a type-writer but has too little use for it to justify paying a hundred dollars for it, he is the man or woman, boy or girl for whom this machine is exactly right.

Nobody wants to take the time to acquire facility with a type-writer that amounts to nothing after he has learned it. The limit of the value of the “World” is its speed; which is from twenty to thirty words a minute. We hear that sixty words a minute has been attained. We are sure of thirty. Weight in box 5 lbs.

We are not permitted to sell it for money; only with subscriptions.

Wringer with folding bench. Price $6; for $6.50 in new subscriptions.

Better than a tub wringer can be; handier; more substantial. Altogether the best of wringing devices. Folds into small floor-space. The proper place for it is where the family does its own work and wants the best facilities.

Wringer. Price $2.75; for $3.50 in new subscriptions. The simplest of all the wringers. You put it on the tub; and the wringing pressure is on. Take it off the tub; and the pressure is off the rolls. For this reason the rolls are less likely to be injured by careless or ignorant treatment than those of any other style of wringer.

Orchestra. Price $1; $1.10 in new subscriptions. Postage 7 cents.

Lithographed figures on blocks worked by cranks and a belt from the engine.

Musician. Price 50 cents; for 60 cents in new subscriptions. Postage 5 cents.

Worked by a belt from the engine.

Sawyer. Price 40 cents; for 50 cents in new subscriptions. Postage 3 cents.

Worked by a belt from the engine.

Bradley’s Authors. Price 50 cents; for 60 cents in new subscriptions. Postage 7 cents.

The best game of the name [there are many]; and best material; waterproof cards.

Tennis outfit. Price $20; for $30 in new subscriptions.

Consists of 4 “Standard” rackets, 6 regulation balls, regulation net 36x3 feet, poles, guys, ropes, pegs, mallet and book of the game.

“Standard” tennis racket. Price $3; for $4 in new subscriptions. Postage 15 cents.

“Peerless” tennis racket. Price $5.50; for $7.50 in new subscriptions. Postage 15 cents.

Croquet outfit for eight players. Price $3; for $4 in new subscriptions.

Maple.

[13p]

Luminous Match-safe. Price 20 cents; for 25 cents in new subscriptions. Postage 3 cents.

The word MATCHES shines at night enough to guide you to the box.

Monogram-stamping outfit. Two letters 50 cents, three letters 80 cents; for 60 cents and $1 in new subscriptions. Postage on either 5 cents.

Consists of rubber stamp (whatever letters you want—size of letter ½-inch), indelible ink for clothing, red ink, bronze, and pads.

Watson’s book-carrier. Price 25 cents; for 30 cents in new subscriptions. Postage 8 cents.

Set of four rubber combs in a handy box. Price 50 cents; for 65 cents in new subscriptions. Postage 7 cents.

Coarse comb, fine comb, child’s comb, pocket comb.

Stamping outfit for embroidery etc., a generous one. The maker calls it $5-worth, but sells it for $1. For $1.10 in new subscriptions.

Daisy alphabet 2½ inches high; roses 8x14; pond lilies 17x7½; pansies 3½x6; stork 7x11; bird and cherries 6x7; etc, etc. (large enough pieces); powder, pads, instructions.

Pocket-knife No. 836. Price $1.25; for $1.50 in new subscriptions. Postage 4 cents.

Pearl handle, fine, substantial, 3 inches long.

Magic Pocket-knife. Price 25 cents; for 30 cents in new subscriptions. Postage 2 cents.

Chased rubber handle with nickeled trimmings. A dainty knife of middling quality; not a whittler. Hold the blade-end down and press on top; the blade pops “open.” Reverse to “shut” it.

Button-hole shears. Price $1.25; for $1.50 in new subscriptions. Postage 3 cents.

Adjustable for length of hole with a gauge for distance.

Shears. Price 80 cents; for $1 in new subscriptions. Postage 7 cents.

Japanned handles and nickeled blades; length 8 inches.

Scissors. Price 80 cents; for $1 in new subscriptions. Postage 3 cents.

Nickeled.

Ladies’ pearl-handle Knife. Price $1.50; for $1.75 in new subscriptions. Postage 3 cents.

Terry’s; length 2½ inches; fine design and finish.

Magic Slate-cleaner; price 6 cents; for 10 cents in new subscriptions.

A wood water-bottle with a valve in the cork and a sponge on the side. You touch the slate with the point and let out a drop of water. Then the sponge.

[14p]

Caw Stylographic Pen. Price $1.50; for $1.75 in new subscriptions. Postage 3 cents.

To one who writes much a stylograph is a great convenience. It is really an ink-pencil. There are many makes. The Caw is the simplest; very likely the best, for dealers say that nobody finds any fault with it.

Ladies’ gold pen with pearl holder. Price $2.25; for $3.00 in new subscriptions. Postage 3 cents.

Gold-plated pencil. Price 50 cents; for 75 cents in new subscriptions.

Gold-plated pencil watch-charm. Price 50 cents; for 75 cents in new subscriptions.

Perfection Hammock—and the hammock is as good as its name—knotted all through and does not slip; soft, elastic, abundantly strong, with galvanized iron rings at the ends. A perfect hammock.

There is as much difference in hammocks as in “easy” chairs. Some are anything but easy. Nobody knows how easy a hammock can be till he has gone to sleep in this Perfection.

Hammock-spreader. Price 35 cents a pair; for 50 cents in new subscriptions. Postage 25 cents.

A hammock is twice as good with a spreader.

There is an outside door-mat so good that every civilized door where muddy feet have to come—there are thousands of such—will have it sooner or later. And one is enough; for it lasts forever.

There is nothing else a tenth so good. It almost keeps itself clean. A jar dislodges the worst and thickest of mud.

AN INCH OR TWO AT THE CORNER OF IT, BOTH SIDES ALIKE.

The Hartman steel-wire mat. An open springy texture of wire to scrape on—galvanized spring-steel wire—no rust, no wear—like a wire mattress but thicker and closer. You scrape on it, step on it, stamp on it, tramp on it fearlessly. The stickiest mud becomes innocent dust underneath and is swept away next morning. A pretty full account of it sent on request.

The price of the mat is $4, more or less according to size. The $4 size is a good one, 22x30 inches. You earn it by getting $4.50 in new subscriptions. To save express we send it from the manufacturer’s nearest office nearest to you.

The makers are doing their best to supply the quick demand from the cities. They would be overwhelmed if the country were equally ready. But where is a perfect mat most useful, where there are pavements or no pavements?

Postage-stamp holder inside your pocket-book. Price 15 cents; for 20 cents in new subscriptions.

Nickel; the picture shows it open inside a pocket-book. Handy out of all proportions to its cost.

[15p]

Bissell Carpet-sweeper. Price $3; for $3.25 in new subscriptions.

Not a housewife rich enough to own a carpet would do without a sweeper if she knew how great relief a good one brings on sweeping and dusting day.

It sweeps cleaner than a broom and easier, makes no dust, and does nine-tenths of the work, leaving only an inch or two along the sides of a room and little corners—these must be swept with a broom—and it drops the dust with a touch on a spring as shown in the picture. That band around the sweeper is a rubber cushion to keep it from bruising furniture.

Three-fourths of all the carpet-sweepers in the world are made by one factory, the Bissell Carpet-Sweeper Company, Grand Rapids, Michigan. Of course they make good ones. The fact is, they control the really useful inventions and nobody else is allowed to make good sweepers at all. But their prices are fair.

There are several styles and sizes. We choose the best brush with common finish.

Cabinet Book-rack. Price $2; for $2.25 in new subscriptions.

Maple, fine finish, brass trimmings, lock, and goes together without nail or screws; 24x23x6½ inches; packs flat.

Shawl-strap. Price 25 cents; for 30 cents in new subscriptions. Postage 6 cents.

The tapes are tightened by turning the handle.

Common shawl-strap. Price 35 cents; for 50 cents in new subscriptions. Postage 6 cents.

Leather handle and straps to buckle.

Desk and blackboard in one. Price $2; for $2.50 in new subscriptions.

Ash with walnut trimmings, top of enameled cloth, lock, pigeon-holes, 25x25x19 inches; packs flat.

“Favorite” table with drawer, top of enameled cloth, 31x27x19 inches, chestnut. Price $1.50; for $1.75 in new subscriptions.

Ice-cream Freezer, the best one we know of. 2-quart; price $2.25; for $2.75 in new subscriptions. 3-quart; price $2.75; for $3.25 in new subscriptions. 4-quart; price $3.50; for $4 in new subscriptions. 6-quart; price $4.25; for $5 in new subscriptions. 10-quart; price $7.75; for $8.75 in new subscriptions. Made every way for the very best results. The tub of clear pine made waterproof; the metallic parts of malleable iron plated with tin. [Zinc makes a poisonous oxide.]

[16p]

Kaleidoscope. Price $3; for $3.25 in new subscriptions. Postage 30 cents.

The name is meant to signify sights of beauty. The kaleidoscope is a maker of sights of beauty. We are indebted to it for combinations of color and form in geometrical decorations. Chance is at the bottom of them all. By taking out two small screws you get at the easy secret.

Spy-glass 15 inches long drawn out and 6 shut up, inch object-glass, magnifies 13 times (the maker says). Price $2.50; for $3.25 in new subscriptions. Postage 12 cents.

Spy-glass a trifle larger, magnifies 16 times (the maker says). Price $3.50; for $4.25 in new subscriptions. Postage 13 cents.

Spy-glass 30 inches long drawn out and 10 shut up, 1⅝-inch object glass, said to magnify 25 times. Price $7; for $8.50 in new subscriptions. Postage 50 cents—express may be less.

Two lenses mounted in brass; one of highest possible power for transparent objects; the other with larger field on stand for general use. Price of both together 50 cents. For 60 cents in new subscriptions.

Pocket Magnifying Glass, three lenses, horn case. Price 90 cents; for $1.10 in new subscriptions.

Square Reading-glass. Price $2; for $2.25 in new subscriptions. Postage 10 cents.

1¾x3½-inch double-convex lens.

Reading-glass. Price $1.50; for $1.75 in new subscriptions. Postage 10 cents.

2⅞-inch lens.

Stereoscope on pillar. Price $1.25, for $1.50 in new subscriptions. Postage 25 cents.

Better Stereoscope. Price $1.25; for $1.50 in new subscriptions. Postage 20 cents.

Half-dozen Stereoscopic Views. Price 40 cents; for 50 cents in new subscriptions. Postage 5 cents.

Microscope. Price 60 cents; for 75 cents in new subscriptions. Postage 4 cents.

Microscope No. 42½. Price 85 cents; for $1 in new subscriptions. Postage 4 cents.

[17p]

Lester Scroll Saw and Lathe. Price $10; for $12 in new subscriptions.

Considered the best and most complete of the saws to be got for less than $20.

With nickeled tilting table; roller in table back of the saw which makes it run remarkably true; clamps hold any thickness of saw; clamps adjustable right or left, forward or back so that the blade can be kept in perfect line; with 3-inch circular saw on 3x4-inch iron table capable of cutting half-inch lumber; solid emery wheel; drilling attachment with six Stubbs drills; lathe attachment with iron ways and rests, steel centers and three fine turning tools—length of bed 15 inches, distance between centers 9 inches, swing 3 inches, length of slide-rest 4 inches; six saw-blades, wrench, screw-driver, two sheets of designs; neat box for small tools; guide.

A very important recent invention used in this machine is a clamp and strainer in one, by which at a touch of a lever the saw-blade is instantly clamped and strained. The remarkable accuracy of this saw is due to the roller in the table, another recent invention.

Bracket-saw outfit. Price $1.25; for $1.50 in new subscriptions. Postage 18 cents.

Nickeled spring-steel saw-frame 5x12 inches with peculiar clamps, six saw-blades, awl, sheet carbon paper, fifty designs full-size.

Bracket-work Drill No. 4. Price 50 cents; for 60 cents in new subscriptions. Postage 12 cents.

Iron 8-inch drill-stock, steel chuck and six points.

Carving-tools. Price $1; for $1.25 in new subscriptions. Postage 10 cents.

Rosewood handles, fine tools and ready sharp.

Rogers Scroll Saw. Price $3.50; for $4.25 in new subscriptions.

The best of the low-price saws.

All iron; neatly japanned; parts interchangeable; bearings in perfect line; with blower; jointed stretcher-rod; clamps with hinged jaw, which avoids the overthrow of the blade, friction, strain and frequent breaking; 4¼-inch balance-wheel with rim of solid emery; drilling attachment on the right; and the whole machine is secured by screw-bolts wherever needed—no pins; six saw-blades, wrench, sheet of designs, three drill points. Rich in appearance, compact, strong, effective, easy, firm and durable. Weight in box 36 pounds.

Key-hole Saw and ½ dozen blades. Price 40 cents; for 60 cents in new subscriptions. Postage 5 cents.

The blade, which is 8½ inches long, can be set in the handle so that only the point projects.

Saw-blades, ½ gross assorted sizes. Price 65 cents; given for 85 cents in new subscriptions.

Manual of Wood-carving by Charles Leland. Price 35 cents; for 50 cents in new subscriptions.

Graves’ Automatic Drill-stock and dozen points. Price $1; for $1.25 in new subscriptions. Postage 5 cents.

Drills with one hand the most delicate wood without splitting. Can be used where bit-brace, gimlet or brad-awl are not available.

Glass-cutter, Knife-sharpener, Can-opener, Cork-screw. Price 10 cents; for 15 cents in new subscriptions.

[18p]

Tool-holder No. 5. Price $1.50; for $2 in new subscriptions. Postage 10 cents.

Rosewood 7½-inch handle holds the tools; nickeled steel chuck; nine fine 4-inch tools. Indispensable.

Glass-cutter and Putty-knife. Price 10 cents; for 15 cents in new subscriptions.

Better than diamond in inexperienced hands.

Numerical frame; 60 cents; for 75 cents in new subscriptions. Postage 25 cents.

An arithmetic school as well as a pretty and interesting plaything. The frame is maple; the balls red, green and black.

Tip-Top self-inking one-line Stamp. Price 60 cents; for 70 cents in new subscriptions. Postage 4 cents.

With two lines of type; 75 cents; for 85 cents in new subscriptions.

With three lines of small type; 85 cents; for $1 in new subscriptions.

Wax night-lights. Price 40 cents for a dozen box; for 60 cents in new subscriptions. Postage 8 cents.

Burn eight hours apiece with a steady little light, no smoke or smell.

Night lamp with shade to soften the light. Price $1; for $1.25 in new subscriptions. Postage 23 cents.

For burning wax lights. Not necessary; the lights may stand in a saucer.

Family printing-outfit for marking linen, printing cards, etc. Price $1.50; for $2 in new subscriptions. Postage 11 cents.

Nickeled holder, movable rubber type on metal body, pads, tweezers, indelible ink.

Dover Egg-beater. Price 50 cents; for 60 cents in new subscriptions.

The best there is for few eggs.

Binder for magazines. Price 75 cents; for $1 in new subscriptions. Postage 15 cents.

Almost like book-binding, as shown in the cut. One style stamped Wide Awake; another The Pansy.

Ready Binder for papers and pamphlets; length 8 inches. Price 8 cents; for 10 cents in new subscriptions.

Lambie’s Dictionary holder. Price $5; for $5.50 in new subscriptions.

Beyond all comparison the best of them all. Adjustable to size of book, to height of stand, and angle at which the book is held. Revolves. On casters.

[19p]

Beginnings with the Microscope, a working handbook, by Walter P. Manton, M. D. Price 50 cents; for 60 cents in new subscriptions.

Practical Boat-Sailing, on small boats and yachts, with vocabulary of nautical terms, by Douglas Frazar. Price $1; for $1.20 in new subscriptions.

Hunter’s Handbook, by an old hunter. Price 50 cents; for 60 cents in new subscriptions.

Hints about camping out and life in the woods.

Handbook of Wood Engraving, by William A. Emerson, wood engraver. Price $1; for $1.20 in new subscriptions.

Taxidermy without a Teacher: an illustrated book of instruction on preparing and preserving birds, animals, fishes, eggs and skeletons; with recipes. By Walter P. Manton. Price 50 cents; for 60 cents in new subscriptions.

Field Botany, an illustrated hand-book for the collector, containing instruction for gathering and preserving plants for the herbarium, also instructions in leaf-photography, plant-printing and the skeletonizing of leaves. By Walter P. Manton. Price 50 cents; for 60 cents in new subscriptions.

Lessons in Candy Making. By Catherine Owen. Price 50 cents; for 60 cents in new subscriptions.

The author says “I have written these lessons for intelligent women who cannot leave home to help them make money.” And she quotes from an Englishwoman pupil-reader “I can make as delicious candies as ever I ate in Paris.”

For a like reason we put her book in the List.

Insects: how to catch and prepare them for the Cabinet; an illustrated book of instructions for the field naturalist. By Walter P. Manton. Price 50 cents; for 60 cents in new subscriptions.

Shakespeare. Price $8; for $10 in new subscriptions. By express at receiver’s cost.

Handy Volume edition; 13 small volumes, flexible, cloth.

Mayflower Pocket Cook-stove and Boiler. Price 50 cents; for 60 cents in new subscriptions. Postage 10 cents.

All nickeled; burns about ½ hour.

Larger Pocket Cook-stove. Price $1; for $1.25 in new subscriptions. Postage 20 cents.

With quart boiler and gridiron. Boils water enough for a cup of coffee in five minutes.

Alcohol-flask for pocket stove. Price 25 cents; for 30 cents in new subscriptions. Postage 5 cents.

Lambie’s revolving Book-stand and Dictionary-holder. Price $9; for $10 in new subscriptions. By express.

Size of book-case 16x16 inches. The upper shelf is available also.

Universal Garden-tool. Price $1; for $1.25 in new subscriptions. Postage 35 cents—express may be less.

Many good tools in one: the hoe is also a spade, shovel, scraper and ice-cutter; the rake is also a fork and hook—there may be other uses. The dotted lines show the positions of both on the handle.

[20p]

We commend the following seven with all the more satisfaction because the market is full of pretentious stuff under similar names but of very little value. These are exactly what the descriptions call for. Circular sent on request.

Whiting’s Indelible Laundry Ink, for marking without preparation. Price 25 cents; for 35 cents in new subscriptions.

Whiting’s Magic Indelible Ink, for marking difficult stuffs without exposure to sun or heat. Price 60 cents; for 80 cents in new subscriptions. Postage 10 cents.

Whiting’s Etching Ink for etching on linen, with supply of pens and “preparation.” Price $1; for $1.10 in new subscriptions. Postage 10 cents.

Whiting’s Tracing-box. Price $1; for $1.35 in new subscriptions.

The glass is 8x12 inches. Must go by express.

Whiting’s Etching Designs at the rate of $1 for $1.10 in new subscriptions. List sent on application.

Whiting’s Transparent Colors for coloring photographs; box of ten colors. Price $3; for $3.25 in new subscriptions.

Half-case with five colors. Price $1.75; for $2 in new subscriptions. Must go by express.

Whiting’s Special Instructions for etching on linen. Price $1; for $1.10 in new subscriptions.

Towel-holder. Price 15 cents; for 20 cents in new subscriptions.

Nickel; about the size of a silver dollar.

Splasher-bracket. Price 30 cents; for 35 cents in new subscriptions. Postage 7 cents.

Black inch pegs; nickeled 33-inch rod.

Towel-bracket. Price 30 cents; for 35 cents in new subscriptions. Postage 6 cents.

The pegs are enameled black; the rod is bright nickel, 18 inches long.

Roll Dressing-case. Price $6; for $7.50 in new subscriptions. Postage 15 cents.

Box dressing-case. Price $6; for $7.50 in new subscriptions. Postage 15 cents.

Both the above are neat and substantial leather cases with first-class furnishings, but without extravagance.

Perfection Lemon-Squeezer. Price 35 cents; for 40 cents in new subscriptions. Postage 6 cents.

Not a squeezer at all, but better. Press half a lemon down over the burr and turn it round with the hand.

The burr cuts the pulp, dislodges the juice and saves it all without squeezing the bitter oil of lemon out of the rind. No seeds, no waste, no spattering.

Cold stove-door Knob. Price 6 cents; for 8 cents in new subscriptions.

Wood handle; hangs on the knob, saves burning the fingers.

Dust-pan. Price 25 cents; for 35 cents in new subscriptions. Postage 12 cents.

Japanned-steel; propped up behind in position to use so that one need not stoop to hold it by hand—a touch with the foot is enough.

[21p]

Kerosene-brick for burning kerosene in any cook-stove, heater or open fire-place, as kindler or fuel. Porous fire brick.

We do not know (at the time of writing) its limit of value, having only just now got it. It is safe—no doubt of that. It is the best kindler ever discovered—no doubt of that. But to what extent it is going to be used for summer fuel and fuel for transient occasions of all sorts we do not know. It is a new thing of very great importance everywhere. We therefore state what we know of it carefully.

The reason why it does not explode is that the oil is fast in the pores of the brick and can’t get out, except as it is slowly driven out by the fire. Kerosene lamps are dangerous; but you are careful with them. There is no possible way in which the kerosene-brick can explode. The only harm that can come of it is through keeping a larger supply of kerosene for fuel then you would keep for light. The answer to that is that a barrel is no worse than a pint. Either is enough to blow a house into kindling-wood.

The reason why it is the best kindler is that it is the cheapest—in other respects it is not much better than pitch-pine.

Tradesmen are likely to overstate the cheapness of it; but it is very cheap—how cheap depends, of course, on the cost of your kerosene; and that is so different in different parts of the country that we cannot give the cost of using the kerosene-brick. It saves its cost in wood perhaps ten times over.

It makes smoke and soot; but they go up chimney.

The first cost of the kerosene-brick is as follows:[A]

No. 1.   Price 35 cents; for 40 cents in new subscriptions.
No. 2.   Price 50 cents; for 60 cents in new subscriptions.
No. 3.   Price 75 cents; for 85 cents in new subscriptions.
No. 4.   Price $1.20; for $1.35 in new subscriptions.
No. 5.   Price $1.75; for $2 in new subscriptions.
No. 6.   Price $1.50; for $1.70 in new subscriptions.

And you want a peculiar sort of tongs (see the cut) for handling the kerosene-brick. Price 25 cents; for 30 cents in new subscriptions.

To save express charges, we ship from the manufacturer’s nearest place of business (nearest to you) wherever that may be.

There is going to be a kerosene-brick of a shape to imitate wood for use in open fire-places. Not yet made and may not be so handy to fill. By the way, we haven’t told how to fill the kerosene-brick.

“No. 1” above means a tin can with three small kerosene-bricks in it. You take out one of the bricks, fill the can with kerosene and let it stand fifteen minutes or over night. The two bricks are ready for use any minute and stay so indefinitely. The smallest is big enough for kindling. Maker’s circular sent.

Ignites with a match. You put it out by dipping it in water. Throwing water on it does not put it out.

Set of little flower-garden tools. Price 30 cents; for 40 cents in new subscriptions. Postage 18 cents.

Good tools and large enough; hoe and rake 14-inch, blades 3½-inch; fork and trowel 11-inch.

Spice-Box. Price 75 cents; for 85 cents in new subscriptions. Postage 25 cents.

Japanned-tin, 7-inch and 2-inch.

Vegetable-masher, sauce-strainer and handy squeezer for twenty uses. Price 65 cents; for 75 cents in new subscriptions. Postage 18 cents.

Large enough for two or three small potatoes. Really it is not a potato-masher. It turns potatoes into a different sort of edible, lighter, bulkier, mealier. Let them go into it steaming hot; let the masher itself be hot; receive the dainty outcome in a hot dish and immediately cover it. If this excellent tool has a fault, it is in cooling potatoes.

Le Page’s Glue. Price 20 cents; for 25 cents in new subscriptions. Postage 5 cents.

Doubtless the strongest glue as well as the most available. Liquid and used as it is, unless chilled or thick, when warm it a little, or add vinegar. In handy tin can with screw top.

Mends crockery; not glass because not transparent. Diluted enough makes excellent mucilage. Let every family have it.

Turn-over Broiler that keeps the gravy out of the fire and on the meat. Price 65 cents; for 75 cents in new subscriptions. Postage 24 cents.

Of light sheet-iron very smooth, punched full of holes, and the holes are “dished” in the punching, so that none of the gravy is lost. Makes good steak better and pays for itself in a week.

[22p]

Bartlett Domestic Press. Price $1.50; for $2 in new subscriptions.

For meats, jellies, wine, cider, etc. Easily washed. Pressure of a thousand pounds is easily got by turning the crank without danger of breaking the press.

Daisy Pillow-sham Holder. Price $1; for $1.10 in new subscriptions.

Out of sight, holds the pillow-shams in place by day, and lifts them out of the way at night, is light, handy, goes on a bedstead of any size, saves work and money. The best device for the purpose. By express.

Crumb-tray and brush. Price 60 cents; for 75 cents in new subscriptions. Postage 15 cents.

Prettily painted tin tray and good brush.

Self-winding Tape-measure, with mirror on one side and perpetual calendar on the other. Price 25 cents; for 35 cents in new subscriptions. Postage 3 cents.

Self-winding Tape-measure, with stop. Price 25 cents; for 35 cents in new subscriptions. Postage 3 cents.

Neat bright nickel case. The stop holds the tape wherever set.

Crochet Needles, dozen. Price 20 cents; for 25 cents in new subscriptions.

Nickeled, assorted sizes, perfect and smooth.

Mineral Cabinet, No. 1. Price $1; for $1.25 in new subscriptions. Postage 14 cents.

Another, No. 2, the same except different minerals; terms the same. No. 2 contains: opal agate, aragonite, milky quartz, cuprite, jasper, galena, sulphur, crocidolite (polished), selenite, hematite, feldspar, fluorspar, variscite, argentite, chalcedony, petrified cedar, alabaster, lead carbonate, telluride ore, muscovite. With brief explanation of every specimen. Neat box with clasp.

These cabinets give invariable satisfaction in schools and families.

Anything that children wear from baby up, at the rate of $1 in clothing for $1.60 in new subscriptions.

The clothing comes from Best & Company, 60 West 23d street, New York. You send for their catalogue, pick out what you want, and send your order to us with money and names of course.

The reason we send from Best & Company is that they keep the largest variety and serve an absent buyer as well as if he were there in the store.

Most of the big city dry-goods houses keep more or less of children’s clothing; but they generally slight it. The work is apt to be shabby, the materials flimsy, the styles too pronounced if not “carried over from last year.” Girls’ things are considered especially hard to get satisfactorily.

[23p]

Tammen’s Cabinet, forty smaller specimens. Price 60 cents; for 75 cents in new subscriptions.

Paper box with sheet of explanations where the minerals came from, what they are used for, etc.

Diamond Dyes. Price 10 cents a color; for 15 cents in new subscriptions.

Dyeing at home in the most satisfactory manner is very easy and profitable. Silk and woolen stuffs come out of the dye about as nice as when they were new. For cotton some of the colors have to be specially made. Wood stains are made from the dyes.

Diamond dyes are complete in themselves; that is, nothing more is required to set the colors. It is really no more difficult to dye with most of the colors than to rinse or starch. And full instructions accompany the dyes.

The colors are: yellow, old-gold, orange; green, olive-green, dark-green; pink, magenta, scarlet, crimson, cardinal, garnet, terra-cotta, maroon, dark-wine; violet, plum, purple; light-blue, navy-blue, dark-blue; slate, drab, black; and yellow for cotton, green for cotton, cardinal for cotton, scarlet for cotton, and blue for cotton.

Diamond dyes do not stain the hands or utensils if used with a little care. You handle the stuffs with sticks till you come to the wringing.

Book-rack, No. 318. Price 50 cents; for 60 cents in new subscriptions.

Maple; 18x24 inches; neatly put together without nails or screws; packs flat.

Book-rack, No. 424. Price $1; for $1.10 in new subscriptions.

Same, 23x32 inches, four shelves.

Book-rack, No. 424½. Price $1.50; for $1.65 in new subscriptions.

Same size as last, more work on it.

Knitting Outfit. Price $1; for $1.10 in new subscriptions. Postage 8 cents.

Consists of 2 balls of Florence silk, whatever colors you like, 5 needles, and book of information. Extra silk at 40 cents a ball; for 50 cents in new subscriptions.

Eagle Fine Arts pencils, polished cedar box of 7 grades. Price $1; for $1.25 in new subscriptions. Postage 5 cents.

As fine as any, free from grit, of uniform grades, clean lead, erasable leaving no smirch; for the most exacting requirements. BBB to HHHHHH.

Eagle Fine Drawing pencils, polished cedar box of 6 grades from extra-soft to extra-hard. Price 50 cents; for 60 cents in new subscriptions. Postage 4 cents.

Eagle Best Colored Crayons:

Box of 24 colors. Price $1.75; for $2 in new subscriptions. Postage 10 cents.

Box of 18 colors. Price $1.35; for $1.50 in new subscriptions. Postage 8 cents.

Box of 12 colors. Price 90 cents; for $1 in new subscriptions. Postage 6 cents.

Equivalent to water-colors. The full assortment is 50 colors.

[24p]

Eagle Scholastic Colored Crayons. Price 50 cents; for 60 cents in new subscriptions. Postage 6 cents.

Paper box of 5 colors, same crayons as last, with 6 colored sketches and 12 outline designs adapted to children’s use.

Eagle Eraser. Price 10 cents; for 15 cents in new subscriptions.

Automatic Drop pencil. Price 25 cents; for 35 cents in new subscriptions.

Acts precisely like the magic knife. See page 13 of this list.

Extra leads; price 8 cents a box; for 10 cents in new subscriptions.

Eagle Solid-ink Fountain and Pen. Price 10 cents; for 15 cents in new subscriptions.

The solid-ink fountain is simply a stick of solid ink, which is held in a clamp inside an ordinary penholder, used with any pen. You dip the pen in water, and the water dissolves the ink.

Extra ink. Price 10 cents a box of 6 sticks; for 15 cents in new subscriptions.

Eagle Ready Companion. Price 10 cents; for 15 cents in new subscriptions.

Wood pen and pencil-carrier; opens and shuts like the magic knife on page 13 and the automatic pencil.

Prang’s Non-Poisonous Water-Colors for Children:

Box No. 2, 8 colors and brush. Price 25 cents; for 30 cents in new subscriptions.

Box No. 4, 12 colors and 2 brushes. Price 40 cents; for 50 cents in new subscriptions.

Perfectly harmless. The colors conform very closely to accepted standards, and flow from the cakes with a touch of water. The brushes are good camel’s-hair. The boxes are very pretty and useful.

Prang’s Fine Water-Colors for Schools and Amateurs, box No. 13, 12 colors and 2 brushes. Price 75 cents; for 85 cents in new subscriptions.

Not non-poisonous, but not more poisonous than the Murillo colors.

Introductory Lessons in Drawing and painting in Water-Colors, by Marion Kemble. Price 50 cents; for 60 cents in new subscriptions.

For those who know nothing at all of either.

Jack-plane pencil-sharpener. Price 25 cents; for 30 cents in new subscriptions.

The best pencil-sharpener we know of at any price, because it is handy, does its work perfectly, never breaks the lead; and the plane-knife can be adjusted and sharpened exactly as in a carpenter’s plane.

Polygraph, brass. Price 25 cents; for 30 cents in new subscriptions. Postage 3 cents.

The same, bright nickel. Price 50 cents; for 60 cents in new subscriptions. Postage 3 cents.

Pattern for almost every sort of figure and combination; wonderfully useful for children, designers, and artisans.

[25p]

Prang’s Water-color Studies are the best examples of what is known as the new style of water-color painting, in which transparent colors only are mixed in the brush and laid on broadly.

They are reproductions of works by American artists designed primarily for instruction in art, but none the less available for home-decoration on that account. Indeed they rank the higher in interest, being all they seem to common eyes, and faithful illustrations besides of recent advances in one of the least familiar departments of Art. They are not unfinished sketches, but exquisite finished color-work. The use we expect to introduce them to by this List is chiefly the non-professional, home-decoration. Let it be understood, there is nothing more fit for that use, and nothing higher, within the reach of people of limited means.

They comprise landscapes, marine views, flowers, animals, birds and figure pieces from such artists as Turner, Moran, Bridges, Lambdin, Giacomelli, etc.

We send Prang’s catalogue and supply whatever may be selected from it at the rate of $1.10 in new subscriptions for $1 of catalogue prices.

Postage on sizes under 12x12 inches 6 cents; over 12x12 inches 10 cents.

On the Use of Water Colors for Beginners. By Ross Turner. Price $3; for $3.25 in new subscriptions.

“Hints to assist a beginner in a right direction, assisting him to start right, and upon such a beginning to work out by personal study and experience his own way of using materials,” by an eminent artist and no less eminent teacher.

Large quarto, illustrated by engravings and six fine colored plates.

Prang’s Reproductions of Oil Paintings supplied at the rate of $1.10 in new subscriptions for $1 of catalogue prices.

We supply whatever may be selected from Prang’s catalogue; but, as that affords no clue to the works beyond titles, sizes and artists’ names, we have chosen a few of the most available pieces and printed descriptions of them. From this short list you can pick out what is likely to answer your purpose.

They are landscapes, marine views, figure pieces, animal and dining-room pictures.

Postage on sizes under 12x12 inches 6 cents; over 12x12 inches 10 cents.

Winsor & Newton’s Oil Colors. Price for seventy-five of the list 8 cents a tube; for 12½ cents in new subscriptions.

Other colors supplied at higher rates. Postage 2 cents a tube.

A list of colors sent on request. These are most used: burnt sienna, raw sienna, emerald green, flake white, light red, naples yellow, permanent blue, raw umber, terra verte, prussian blue, vandyke brown, yellow ochre, ivory black, zinnober green (medium); all of which are supplied at the quoted rate.

Ruler with circle-guide. Price 25 cents; for 30 cents in new subscriptions. Postage 12 cents.

Scholar’s Companion, No. 41. Price $1; for $1.25 in new subscriptions. Postage 15 cents.

Cloth-covered box with pen-holder, pencil, slate-pencil, sponge and sponge-box, rubber eraser, ink-bottle, knife and key—box locks.

Vassar School-bag. Price 50 cents; for 60 cents in new subscriptions. Postage 8 cents.

Stout bag of open lace of white cotton twine with red lining showing through, with gay stripes of colored twine in the lace.

“Beginner’s Outfit” of tissue paper and other materials for flower-work. Price 35 cents; for 50 cents in new subscriptions. Postage 7 cents.

Colors of tissue paper, rose sprays, stems, daisy centers and petals, leaves, wire, instructions.

“Complete Assortment” of tissue paper and other materials. Price $1; for $1.30 in new subscriptions. Postage 16 cents.

Paper colors, tubing, culots, rose sprays and moss, wire, rose, poppy and daisy centers, poppy buds, leaves, pincers, instructions.

[26p]

Letter-scale. Price 50 cents; for 60 cents in new subscriptions.

Weighs from ½-ounce to 10 or 12 ounces. With hook for tied parcels and clamp for letters.

Mason & Hamlin Organ No. 2208, five octaves, nine stops. For $100 in new subscriptions.

The cash price of this organ in music stores depends on where the store is, its costs, and its scale of profits. The lowest price we know of is $99; the highest $165. Size 4-11x1-11x5. Weight in case 322 lbs.

One of the most perplexing bargains a family has to make nowadays is in buying a musical instrument. Price and quality, both, are in doubt.

There is probably some good reason for what appears to be chronic demoralization pervading the musical instrument business in every part of this enormous country of ours. We can’t control the fact. We have got round it, if you happen to want an organ.

We’ll try, if you want a piano.

Pitch-pipe, A and C, in a handy pocket-case. Price 20 cents; for 25 cents in new subscriptions.

Bay State Guitar, Style E. Price $14; for $18 in new subscriptions.

Guaranteed by the makers (John C. Haynes & Co., Boston) not to warp or split. Solid-rosewood sides and back, mahogany neck.

Wood case for $4 in new subscriptions.

Banjo, No. 33½. Price $5; for $6.25 in new subscriptions.

Nickeled rim, wood lining, imitation-walnut fretted arm, ball brackets, calfskin head.

Music-box, No. 3½. Price $7; for $8 in new subscriptions.

Rosewood; 3 airs; 2¾-inch cylinder; key attached.

Xylophone. No. 1, 2 octaves. Price $1.50; for $2 in new subscriptions. No. 3, 2½ octaves (with chromatics). Price $5.50; for $7.50 in new subscriptions.

Accordion. Price $5; for $6 in new subscriptions.

10 keys, 2 sets reeds, stop, double bellows, german-silver clasps and corners.

Thie Three-sided Harmonica. Price 90 cents; for $1.25 in new subscriptions. Postage 15 cents.

16 double holes on a side; german-silver plates.

Bell Harmonica. Price 60 cents; for 75 cents in new subscriptions. Postage 5 cents.

10 double holes; brass plates.

Concert Harmonica. Price 60 cents; for 75 cents in new subscriptions. Postage 8 cents.

Size 5½x2¼ inches; 24 double holes; brass plates.

[27p]

Richter Harmonica, No. 33½. Price 25 cents; for 35 cents in new subscriptions. Postage 3 cents. 4-inch, 10 single holes, nickeled plates.

Franklin Square Song Collection, Nos. 1, 2, 3 and 4. Price 50 cents each; for 75 cents in new subscriptions.

Each number contains the words and music of about two-hundred of what are regarded as the best songs of the time: songs of home, worship, love, country, children, school; with a mass of information relating to them. Table of Contents sent on request.

Seth Thomas Watch in argentine case for $10 in new subscriptions; in silver case for $15 in new subscriptions. Postage 10 cents.

There is strong competition between the American watch-manufactories on low-price watches. The struggle is to make the best for the money. That is the way to capture the market. Seth Thomas watch is ahead.

We buy the movement separate. There is no established price for the watch as we send it out. We are giving the most we can get for the money. The watch is a good time-keeper; durable; open-face; has seven jewels; is decidedly worth repairing; good enough; a great deal better than any foreign watch for the money; better than any other American watch for the money.

The argentine case is a substitute for silver, substantial, keeps its silver look. The silver case is no better, unless you object to an imitation. The argentine case is plain, the silver is chased (“turned” is the technical word), the neatest of watch-case engraving. Stem-winders and setters of course.

Waterbury Watch, chain, whistle and agate charm. Price for the whole, $3; for $4 in new subscriptions. Postage 15 cents.

Perhaps a million of these watches are in use. As good a time-keeper as any common watch and bears a good deal of banging. The only fault we ever heard of in it is the slowness of winding—takes about a minute and a half—stem-winder at that. The makers undertake to repair it for 50 cents and postage. The case is bright nickel, or what is called nickel—looks like silver.

Chatelaine Watch. Price $7; for $9 in new subscriptions. Postage 10 cents.

Fair time-keeper, plain, bright nickel case.

Alarm Clock. Price $1.75; for $2 in new subscriptions. Postage 20 cents.

Nickel, one-day, 4-inch dial, key attached.

Little Nickel One-day Clock with 2-inch dial. Price $1.35; for $1.75 in new subscriptions. Postage 10 cents.

Winds by turning the whole back plate.

Eight-day Clock with cathedral bell. Price $10; for $11 in new subscriptions.

Enameled-iron case with gilt decorations, a close imitation of black marble; 10x15 inches.

[28p]

Send for finger-measure a slip of paper that just goes round the ring finger.

Plated Finger-rings. Patterns 1, 2, 3, 4 in heavy rolled plate. Price $1 each; for $1.25 in new subscriptions. Same in filled fourteen-karat gold. Price $1.25; for $1.50 in new subscriptions.

Gold Finger-ring of patterns 1 or 3. Price $1.75; for $2.50 in new subscriptions. No. 2, $2.25; for $3.00 in new subscriptions.

Gold Cameo Finger-ring. Price $1.50; for $2 in new subscriptions.

Plated Gold-stone Finger-ring. Price $1; for $1.35 in new subscriptions.

Gold Amethyst Finger-ring. Price $1.75; for $2.50 in new subscriptions.

Plated Tiger-eye Finger-ring. Price $1.25; for $1.50 in new subscriptions.

Flat ware may be of any of these six patterns, except table-knives and fruit-knives. Pattern B with handles oxidized for about ten per cent additional to the prices quoted. [B not oxidized same price as the others.]

The grade of all, both flat and hollow ware, is that known in the trade as “triple-plate,” unless otherwise noted.

The maker of nearly all is the Holmes & Edwards Silver Company.

Plush boxes supplied, if wanted. They cost about as much as the wares they contain.

Tea-spoons of any pattern. Price $2.50 a half-dozen; for $3 in new subscriptions. Postage 7 cents.

Dessert-spoons of any pattern. Price $4.25; for $5 in new subscriptions. Postage 12 cents.

Table-spoons or forks of medium size of any pattern. Price $4.75 a half-dozen; for $6 in new subscriptions. Postage 14 cents.

Table-knives of medium size. Price $2.50 a half dozen; for $3 in new subscriptions. Postage 24 cents.

Fruit-knives. Price $1.75 a half-dozen; for $2.10 in new subscriptions. Postage 10 cents.

Pocket Fruit-knife. Price $1.25; for $1.50 in new subscriptions. Postage 3 cents.

Not “triple-plate”; two grades lower.

Butter-knife of pattern A, C, D, or E. Price $1; for $1.25 in new subscriptions. Postage 3 cents.

Sugar-tongs of pattern A, C, D, or E. Price $1.50; for $2 in new subscriptions. Postage 3 cents.

Sugar-shell of pattern A, C, D, or E. Price 75 cents; for $1 in new subscriptions. Postage 3 cents.

Berry-spoon A, C, D or E. Price $2.50; for $3 in new subscriptions. Postage 5 cents.

[29p]

Gravy-ladle A, C, D or E. Price $1.50; for $2 in new subscriptions. Postage 4 cents.

Soup-ladle A, C, D or E. Price $4; for $5 in new subscriptions. Postage 12 cents.

Same as gravy-ladle, but larger.

Fish-knife and Fork A, C, D, or E. Price $3.25 each; for $4 each in new subscriptions. Postage 4 cents each.

Pie-knife A, C, D or E. Price $3.25; for $4 in new subscriptions. Postage 5 cents.

Cake-knife A, C, D or E. Price $3.25; for $4 in new subscriptions. Postage 3 cents.

Child’s set of knife, fork, spoon and napkin-ring. Price $1.50; for $1.75 in new subscriptions. Postage 10 cents.

Not triple-plate; two grades lower.

Butter-dish. Price $3; for $4.50 in new subscriptions. Must go by express.

Satin finish.

Call-bell. Price $1.50; for $2 in new subscriptions. Postage 10 cents.

Top strike; neat design. Not triple-plate; two grades lower.

Napkin-ring No. 173. Price $1.25; for $1.50 in new subscriptions. Postage 5 cents.

Not triple-plate; two grades lower.

Pickle-jar with tongs. Price $2; for $2.50 in new subscriptions.

Engraved glass jar.

Child’s Cup No. 38. Price $1.25; for $1.50 in new subscriptions. Postage 10 cents.

Not triple-plate; two grades lower; gold-lined.

Child’s Cup No 28. Price $2.50; for $2.75 in new subscriptions. Postage 10 cents.

Not triple-plate; two grades lower; gold-lined.

Nut-picks. Price 90 cents; for $1 in new subscriptions. Postage 5 cents.

No. A1½, 5-inch, six nickeled-steel picks in paper box.

Nut-cracker and picks. Price $1.75; for $2 in new subscriptions. Postage 10 cents.

No. C1½, 5-inch, six nickeled-steel picks and one cracker in paper box.

[30p]

Plymouth Lap-board. Price $1.25; for $1.35 in new subscriptions.

Very light but strong, unsplittable, cloth-like surface pleasant to touch, not slippery, brass-bound, neat, with half-yard measure and checker-board. There never will be a better thing for its many, many uses. Must go by express.

Rand-McNally Standard Atlas of the World. The publishers’ price is $4.50. We send it postage paid for $2.50 in new subscriptions.

Edition of 1887, “revised to date including maps.” (We quote from the publishers’ letter. The Atlas is not yet out at the time of writing.)

Large book, 11x14 inches, cloth binding, about 200 pages; about 150 maps, about 30 statistical diagrams, etc., nearly 100 engravings; brief descriptions of regions, countries, cities, governments; our part of the world elaborately mapped and illustrated.

So comprehensive an Atlas can only be made for the money by many thousands, and so only in a country where millions of people are happy enough to want to know the world they live in.

Webster’s Unabridged Dictionary. Price $13; for $17 in new subscriptions. By express at receiver’s cost.

Latest edition, with marginal index. See cut.

Worcester’s Unabridged Dictionary. Price $11; for $13 in new subscriptions. By express at receiver’s cost.

Latest edition with marginal index. See cut of Webster.

Ladies’ Card-case. Price 85 cents; for $1.10 in new subscriptions.

Natural calfskin stamped with a beautiful pattern, old-gold satin lining.

Pearl Rug-maker. Price $1; for $1.10 in new subscriptions. Postage 6 cents.

A sort of sewing-machine attachment; not strictly that; for it is not attached; may be used with any machine, or without a machine, the sewing done by hand.

With it a woman of taste and aptness with colors can get out of her rag-bag beautiful rugs with almost no expense beyond sewing-cotton and dyes [see Diamond Dyes, page 23 of this list.]

The rug-maker is simply a nickeled steel-wire frame on which to wind cut rags or yarns preparatory to sewing them on a substantial foundation. Not hard to learn the use of. Not hard to use. A sort of homely art-work with waste materials, splendidly profitable.

The finished rug is a velvet, the pile of which is made by cutting the loops as they come from the rug-maker. The product of one day’s work may be as pretty and rich a rug as you would buy for several dollars. All depends on your taste, materials, colors, industry, patience. There is something of the constructive artist in every woman of taste.

Plush Mirror for toilet stand. Price 60 cents; for 75 cents in new subscriptions. Postage 8 cents.

Beveled plate glass, 4x6 inches.

Plush Toilet-case. Price $2.75; for $3.50 in new subscriptions. Postage 35 cents.

Zylonite mirror, brush and comb. Looks like ivory.

Zylonite Brush and Mirror. Price 75 cents each; for $1.10 in new subscriptions. Postage 6 cents each.

Together or either. Lily of the Valley pattern.

Plush Collar and Cuff Box. Price $2.50; for $3 in new subscriptions. Postage 20 cents.

[31p]

Plush Jewel-case No. 150. Price $1; for $1.25 in new subscriptions. Postage 10 cents.

Size 4½x6x3 inches.

Plush Sealing-wax Cabinet. Price $2.25; for $2.85 in new subscriptions. Postage 10 cents.

Your initial-seal, five colors of finest wax, two wax candles, and stick in paper box.

Sealing-wax Box. Price 75 cents; for 80 cents in new subscriptions. Postage 6 cents.

Same contents as last. Paper box with cover.

Writing-desk. Price $1.50; for $2.10 in new subscriptions. Postage 45 cents.

Walnut inlaid with mahogany. Locks.

Writing-case for the lap. Price $2.50; for $3.50 in new subscriptions. Postage 30 cents.

Leather cover, with pockets and box full of writing-materials.

Music-roll. Price $1.35; for $1.75 in new subscriptions. Postage 7 cents.

Substantial leather, imitation seal, bound with morocco, morocco strap, round leather handle, nickel trimmings.

Silver Thimble. Price 65 cents; for 85 cents in new subscriptions.

Gold-filled thimble. Price $1.25; for $1.60 in new subscriptions.

Scrap-book. Price 60 cents; for 75 cents in new subscriptions. Postage 30 cents.

Size 9½x12 inches. 56 pages.

Handy Travelling-bag No. 161. Price $3.25; for $5 in new subscriptions. Postage 45 cents.

Natural grain leather, lined with leather, large inside pocket, nickel lock and trimmings; size 12-inch.

Same, 14-inch. Price $4; for $6 in new subscriptions.

Ladies’ Pocket-book. Price $1.50; for $2 in new subscriptions. Postage 5 cents.

Seal, morocco flap-lining, skiver pockets.

Plush Work-box. Price $2.25; for $3 in new subscriptions. Postage 20 cents.

Beveled plate-glass mirror in cover, bone needle-case, crochet needle, bodkin, thread-knife, button-hook, tape-needle and a pair of scissors.

Plush Work-box for a little girl. Price $1.50; for $2 in new subscriptions. Postage 18 cents.

Same things as in last except mirror.

Plush Perfume-stand No. 4005. Price $1.25; for $1.75 in new subscriptions. Postage 15 cents.

Two ground-stopper bottles, six multiplying mirrors, nickel extension handle.

[32p]

Plush Perfume-stand No. 3. Price 75 cents; for $1 in new subscriptions. Postage 15 cents.

Two ground-stopper bottles, two mirrors, brass handle.

Plush Mirror and Whisk-holder. Price $1.25; for $1.50 in new subscriptions. Postage 15 cents.

Beveled medallion mirror, three little hooks, whisk with nickel-damask handle and ring. A pretty piece for a girl’s room.

State exact length of boot.

Keyless Skate. Price $4; for $4.50 in new subscriptions. Postage 35 cents.

Best steel, best make, best temper; bright nickel. Toe and heel clamps worked together by thumb-screw at heel: the simplest fastening. Sizes 8 to 12 inches.

Skate No. R. Price $2; for $2.10 in new subscriptions. Postage 35 cents.

Fac-simile of the Keyless skate, of lower grade; nickeled.

American Rink Skate. Price $4.50; for $5.00 in new subscriptions. Postage 35 cents.

Best every way; adjustable as to size by a thumb-screw at the heel and fastened by a lever under the instep. Sizes 8 to 12 inches.

Skate No. T. Price $2; for $2.10 in new subscriptions. Postage 35 cents.

Skate No. T is a fac-simile of the American Rink Skate; heel-plates, foot-plates, toe-clamps and brackets of crucible steel; nickeled.

All-clamp Skate. Price $4; for $4.50 in new subscriptions. Postage 35 cents.

Best nickeled steel. Sizes 7 to 12 inches.

Skate No. F. Price $2; for $2.10 in new subscriptions. Postage 35 cents.

Fac-simile of All-clamp skate, of lower grade; nickeled.

Ladies’ Keyless Skate. No. LR. Price $2.50; for $3 in new subscriptions. Postage 30 cents.

Blades of the lower grade, foot-plates, clamps and brackets of crucible steel; russet-leather trimmings; nickel heel-bands. A thumb-screw at the heel works the toe-clamps.

Ladies’ Clamp Skate, No. LE. Price $2.50; for $3 in new subscriptions. Postage 30 cents.

Differs from No. LR only in having the toe-clamps worked by a key instead of a thumb-screw.

Putz Pomade, the best polishing substance known for gold, silver, copper, brass, tin and other metals. Price 15 cents a box; for 20 cents in new subscriptions.

One of the many new things in this List, the knowledge of which is worth much more than it costs.

Putz Pulver, perhaps the same as the paste; but, being a powder, it does not cling to chasings; better therefore for jewelry. Price 15 cents a box; for 20 cents in new subscriptions.

Any subscriber may pay his own subscription by getting new subscriptions of twice the amount.

Thus: Babyland for $1 in new subscriptions; Our Little Men and Women for $2 in new subscriptions; Pansy for $2 in new subscriptions; Chautauqua Young Folks’ Journal for $2 in new subscriptions; Wide Awake for $4.80 in new subscriptions.

Any book we publish, postage paid, at the rate of $1 for $1.20 in new subscriptions.

Thus: A 50-cent book for 60 cents in new subscriptions, a $1 book for $1.20, a $1.50 book for $1.80, a $2 book for $2.40, etc.

We cannot describe our two-thousand books in this List; and, if we begin, there is no stopping-place. The best we can do is to send our catalogue [We wish it afforded more of a clue to their contents]; and you select from that.

[33p]

CHAUTAUQUA YOUNG FOLKS’ READING UNION.

1. There are few forces more powerful in the shaping of character than those which spring from reading. Robinson Crusoe has sent thousands of boys to sea, and other books less wholesome have sent thousands to prison; many a youth has been inspired to noble aims and a useful life by the help of a good book. A distinguished scientist says that a single book which fell into his hands during boyhood gave him “a twist toward science.”

2. It is not a question whether our young people will read or not, for nearly all of them do read. The question is whether they shall read a helpful or a harmful literature, for every book and paper belongs to either one class or the other. There is but one way to keep out the harmful, and that is to supply the helpful. At a public conference on the subject of literature for young people one speaker said, “I find that when I keep the table in my own house well covered with good papers for young people my children have no desire for a low class of story-papers.” A shelf of good, interesting books for young people will save them from depraved taste in reading.

3. One difficulty in the way of supplying the home with good literature is that parents are too busy. To provide a pure and healthful course of reading, and with it the impulse to follow it, the Chautauqua Young Folks’ Reading Union has been established. This is an outgrowth of the Chautauqua movement, which aims to promote popular education for every grade and every age, and is the peculiar adaptation of the Chautauqua Course to young people. It takes in the main the same subjects as those of the Chautauqua Literary and Scientific Circle, and fits them to the needs of the young, so that while the older people are pursuing one course of reading, the boys and girls, from twelve years, and upward, may read in the same lines and on the same themes. The course includes history, science, literature, travel, household matters, “ways to do things,” etc., mainly in short articles, which can be easily read. It can be accomplished in less than two hours of each week, for as many years as the student chooses to follow it, for each year’s reading is complete in itself.

4. The Readings of the Chautauqua Young Folks’ Reading Union are of two kinds, Serial and in Books. The Serial Readings are contained in a monthly supplement to Wide Awake, a magazine for young people which stands at the head of its class in literature. This supplement is also published as a separate periodical, called the Chautauqua Young Folks’ Journal. The Book Readings consist generally of three standard books adapted for young people. With the course are furnished to enrolled members the “Outline Memoranda,” or questions for examination, not a severe test of knowledge of the Readings, but suggestive, and calling forth the thoughts and opinions of the reader.

5. The Course may be taken by individuals, each reading by himself, or by a number reading together and meeting in a Local Club or Circle. Such a Club may be organized by the teacher of a school among the scholars, and will furnish pleasant and elevating enjoyment, as well as training in composition, debating, observation, etc., by its exercises. The members may read papers of their own writing upon the subjects of the course, may present questions, may look at pictures of objects and places referred to, and may witness simple experiments in science, and may also have social recreation at its meetings. [For plans of organization and management of a Local Club, send for the handbook.]

6. All that is requisite for membership is to send name and address, with ten cents in postage stamps, to the Secretary, Miss Kate F. Kimball, Plainfield, N. J. Wide Awake contains much besides the readings—serial stories, short stories, illustrated articles, and poems—while the Chautauqua Young Folks’ Journal contains but little besides the readings. Besides one of the magazines, the three books cost $1.70. [For the Course of the coming year see next page.]

7. Every enrolled member receives free of cost a Certificate of Membership. It is an albertype, with a symbolic picture embodying the light-bearing spirit of the Union, and is suited to framing for the home. For each year’s reading a seal is given, which is to be affixed to the certificate. Thus the engraving will show by its seals the years of the member’s reading.

[34p]

ANNOUNCEMENT.

The next Course of Readings will begin in the December number of Wide Awake and the Journal and run through 1888. Something of the value and interest may be gathered from the following prospectus.

SEVENTH ANNUAL COURSE.

REQUIRED READINGS (SERIAL).

I. Dear Old Story-Tellers. By Oscar Fay Adams. A set of most delightful papers about certain old authors and certain old stories whose names and titles are constantly occurring in general literature. Whatever of importance and interest is known about these authors Mr. Adams has here gathered up; and a good idea is given of the work which has made them famous, valued and remembered. These “Readings” will be very helpful for all who wish to understand the allusions in literature to standard old stories and romances. Many portraits and illustrations.

II. U. S. Military and Naval Schools. By Louis T. Peale. A good series for family reading, as both boys and girls are growing more and more interested in the way our Government conducts affairs, and these papers explain just what means are taken to train up a noble body of men to protect our country and maintain her interests and her rights by land and sea. While the series is of general interest to everybody, it will be especially hailed by boys who have dreams of entering the army or the navy; they will find here a complete manual of answers to all the questions they or their anxious friends can possibly ask as to what the boys must do for the Government, and what the Government does for the boys. Illustrations.

III. Our Asiatic Cousins. By Mrs. A. H. Leonowens. Mrs. Leonowens lived a long time in the far East, an inmate of both palace and tent, and had opportunities of knowing face to face both royal potentates and the common people. She has written these articles especially for the members of the C. Y. F. R. U., and they are very interesting. Fully illustrated.

IV. “Diamond Dust.” By Mrs. S. D. Power. Some chatty articles about precious stones, our native gems, and beautiful objects in the mineral world.

V. Ways to do Things. All sorts. The first will be the “Way” to take care of dogs, by Louise Imogen Guiney.

VI. Search-Questions in Roman History. By Oscar Fay Adams. Twenty questions each month. Book prizes for correct lists of answers. Particulars in both Wide Awake and the Journal.

REQUIRED READINGS (BOOKS).

A Family Flight Around Home. Part I. By Edward Everett Hale and Susan Hale. A new volume of this delightful series, describing the scenes and events of early New England history, etc. Illustrations.

Poets’ Homes. By Arthur Gilman, and others. Charming pen and pencil pictures of the homes and haunts of the poets—and the poets themselves.

Nelly Marlow in Washington. By Laura D. Nichols. Those who went with Nelly Marlow “Up Hill and Down Dale” will surely wish to go with her to Washington. Illustrations.

PRICE LISTS.

Chautauqua Young Folks’ Annual.

New members of the C. Y. F. R. U., and others, desiring in compact form the previous courses of Required Readings, may be glad to know that they are issued each year in one handsomely bound volume with the above title.

Sent postpaid by the publishers, D. LOTHROP COMPANY, and by all booksellers, on receipt of $1.50 per volume.[B]

[35p]

Quick Clues

Wide Awake, 1887.

Volumes W and X. 4to, boards, 1.75 a volume—cloth, 2.25.

Boys and Girls’ Annual 1888.

4to, cloth, 3.00.

Dame Heraldry.

By F. S. W. Illustrated by nine full-page colored illustrations and numerous engravings. 8vo, cloth, 2.50.

Family Flight Series.

By E. E. Hale and Susan Hale, 5 vols., 8vo, boards, each, 1.75; cloth, 2.25.

Young Folks’ Cyclopædia of Stories.

4to, cloth, 3.00.

FUN AND FANCY LIBRARY.

Bubbling Teapot.

A Wonder Story by Lizzie W. Champney.

In No-Man’s Land.

A Wonder Story by E. S. Brooks.

Dilly and the Captain.

By Margaret Sidney.

Nelly Marlow in Washington.

By Laura D. Nichols. Square, 8vo, boards, $1.25; cloth, $1.50.

Overhead: or what Harry and Nelly discovered in the heavens. By Annie Moore and Laura D. Nichols. Introduction by Leonard Waldo, of Harvard College Observatory. Square 8vo, boards, 1.25; cloth, 1.50.

Underfoot, or what Harry and Nelly learned of the earth’s treasures. By Laura D. Nichols. Square 8vo, boards, 1.25; cloth, 1.50.

Up Hill and Down Dale. By Laura D. Nichols. Square 8vo, boards, 1.25; cloth, 1.50.

Cats’ Arabian Nights. By Abby Morton Diaz. 8vo, boards, 1.25.

Fireside Chronicles, or the Family Story-Teller. By Abby Morton Diaz.

Wonder Stories.

3 volumes, 12mo, cloth, each 1.50.

[37p]

Bound Volumes of Two Illustrated Magazines.

Our Little Men and Women for 1887.

4to, 74 full-page illustrations, cloth, 2.00; boards, 1.50.

The Pansy for 1887.

4to, cloth, 1.75; boards, 1.25.

Real Fairy Folks.

By Lucy Rider Meyer, A.M. Illustrated, 12mo, cloth, $1.50.

Story Book of Science.

By Lydia Hoyt Farmer. Illustrated, 12mo, cloth, $1.50.

Look-About Club.

By Mary E. Bamford. 4to, cloth, 1.50.

Little Polly Blatchley.

By Frances C. Sparhawk. 4to, boards, 1.00.

Playfellows and Their Pets.

4to, boards, 1.00.

After Play Stories for the Little Ones.

4to, boards, 1.00.

[38p]

Some Things Abroad.

By Alexander McKenzie, D. D. 12mo, cloth, $1.50.

Russian Novelists.

From the French of M. de Vogüé by Jane Loring Edmands. 12mo, cloth, $1.50.

Life Among the Germans.

By Emma Louise Parry. 12mo, cloth, $1.50.

Common Sense Science.

By Grant Allen. 12mo, cloth, $1.50.

Royal Girls and Royal Courts.

By M. E. W. Sherwood. 12mo, cloth, $1.25.

Souvenirs of My Time.

By Jessie Benton Frémont. 12mo, cloth, $1.50.

American Authors for Young Folks.

By Amanda B. Harris. 12mo, cloth, $1.00.

Dorothy Thorn of Thornton.

By Julian Warth. 12 mo., $1.25.

Gladys.

A Romance. By Mary G. Darling. 12mo, $1.25.

After School Days.

By Christina Goodwin. 12mo, cloth, 1.00.

For a Girl’s Room.

12mo, cloth, 1.00.

[39p]

By Special Arrangement with DEMOREST’S MONTHLY, the greatest of all Family Magazines, we are enabled to make every one of our lady readers a handsome present.

Cut out this slip and inclose it before Dec. 1st, (with a two-cent stamp for return postage) to W. Jennings Demorest, 15 East 14th Street, New York, and you will receive by return mail a full-size pattern, illustrated and fully described, of this Jacket (worth 25c).

Cross out with pencil the size desired. Bust, 34, 36, 38, 40.

While Demorest’s is not a Fashion Magazine, many suppose it to be, because its Fashion Department, like all its other Departments, is so perfect. You really get a dozen Magazines in one, for $2.00 per year.

Each number of Demorest’s Monthly contains an order, entitling the holder to the selection of any pattern illustrated in any number, and in any of the sizes manufactured, making patterns during the year of the value of over three dollars.

You thus get free all the patterns you wish to use during the year for yourself and children. Send for the pattern offered above, as its descriptive envelope will give you full particulars and show you why it will pay you to subscribe for Demorest’s Monthly.

R. M. LAMBIE, ALL KINDS OF BOOK HOLDERS The Most Perfect Dictionary Holder. Send for Illustrated Catalogue. 39 E. 19th St., N.Y.

THE Toy
the child
likes best!

This is the title of a descriptive Price-list, richly illustrated in colour-print, of the ANCHOR STONE BUILDING BOX, which should be found in every family and may be obtained from all Toy dealers. Stationers and Educational Depôts. The Price-list will be forwarded gratis on application to

F. AD. RICHTER & Co.
NEW YORK, 310, BROADWAY or LONDON E.C.,
1, RAILWAY PLACE, FENCHURCH STREET.

Royal Girls. By M. E. W. Sherwood. Ill. Boston: D. Lothrop Company. Price $1.25. One thing readers will learn from this volume by Mrs. Sherwood, and that is that girls who happen to be born princesses are very much like those who are born in ordinary households, and that human nature is pretty much the same in a palace as it is in an American farmhouse. But they will learn, too, that in most royal families the daughters are subjected to a course of discipline and training more severe and exacting than ever fell to the lot of an American girl. They are obliged to study early and late; they must have not only a thorough knowledge of the languages, of music and of court etiquette, but also of the politics of their own and other governments; they must know something of statecraft and of diplomacy, for no princess knows what station she may be some time called on to fill. No American girl need envy them, says Mrs. Sherwood. “They are in chains, all of them. They must be careful what they say, do, think even. With royal girls, what interrupted destinies, what cruel disappointments, what unhappy marriages, what a contrast between the desire and fulfilment do we constantly see.” There are certain things in which Mrs. Sherwood thinks they might serve as models to American girls, with whom she frequently compares them. The volume contains sketches of the royal girls of Italy, of Spain, of Denmark, of Russia, of England and of Germany, and two chapters are devoted to “Carmen Sylva,” the queen of Roumania and the empress of Austria. The author describes very entertainingly the home life of some of these girls, and the rules of etiquette to which they are obliged to conform. The volume is well illustrated with portraits.

What People Live By. By Count Leo Tolstoi. Translated by Mrs. Aline Delano. Boston: D. Lothrop Company. Price $1.00. A remarkable little story by the distinguished Russian writer, Count Tolstoi, has been translated by Mrs. Aline Delano, and cannot fail to impress the reader more strongly than ever with the wonderful power of the author in dealing with religious or psychological subjects. It was written for a distinct purpose; to show, in the words of the title, “What People Live By.” Nothing can be more severely simple than the story, which is thus summed up. “I have learned,” says Tolstoi, “that man lives not by care for himself, but by love.... I know that God has given life to men, and wishes them to live. Now I know another truth: the truth that God does not wish man to live apart; therefore He has not revealed to them what each needs for himself. He wishes them to live together, and therefore reveals to each the others’ wants.” The translation seems to be very close to the original.

[40p]

(PATENTED IN UNITED STATES AND GREAT BRITAIN.)

The Educator is full of Fun, Instruction and Amusement! $100 worth of books will not give the same amount of Amusement and Instruction. You will laugh whether you want to or not. It asks all sorts of funny and important questions and answers every one correctly. Can be enjoyed by the whole family!

Extra Cards 5c. each, or 50 cents per dozen. For sale by every first-class Toy, Stationery, and Fancy Goods dealer in United States, Canada and Europe; or will be sent by mail or express, prepaid, by the M’f’rs on receipt of $1.25.

Any person forming a club of six, and sending price of six, $6.00, and Postage or Express, $1.50 ($7.50) will receive ONE EDUCATOR and CARDS Free of Charge. Good Agents wanted. Send stamp for circulars. Mention this magazine.

THIS book should be in every family desirous of knowing “the proper thing to do.” We all desire to behave properly and to know what is the best school of manners. What shall we teach our children, that they may go out into the world well-bred men and women?

“SHORT HINTS” contains the answer, and will be mailed to any address, postage prepaid on receipt of price.

Until further notice we will mail each of our friends a copy of the above valuable book gratis and free of postage, if they will mail us 15 wrappers of Dobbins’ Electric Soap.

By folding up the wrappers as you would a newspaper, the postage will only be 2 cts.

Always put your full name and address on the outside of the bundle, and write the word “Etiquette” also, and then we will know who sends it.

WEAVER ORGANS Are the Finest in Tone, Style, Finish and general make up of any goods made. Guaranteed for 6 years. Send for Catalogue, testimonials and terms, free, to Weaver Organ and Piano Co., Factory, York, Pa.

[41p]

THE LEGEND OF CEREALINE.

[42p]

Laces, fine embroideries, and other articles too delicate to bear rubbing, may be cleaned satisfactorily and without injury, if you will pare into fine shavings one-fourth of a cake of Ivory Soap, which dissolve in a quart of hot water; fill a glass fruit jar half full of the solution and add the article to be cleaned, then shake well. Rinse in the same manner in clear, luke-warm water.

A WORD OF WARNING.

There are many white soaps, each represented to be “just as good as the ‘Ivory’;” they ARE NOT, but like all counterfeits, lack the peculiar and remarkable qualities of the genuine. Ask for “Ivory” Soap and insist upon getting it.

Copyright, 1886, by Procter & Gamble.

End of Project Gutenberg's The Pansy Magazine, November 1887, by Various

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