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Title: Harper's Young People, June 8, 1880 - An Illustrated Weekly
Author: Various
Language: English
As this book started as an ASCII text book there are no pictures available.
Copyright Status: Not copyrighted in the United States. If you live elsewhere check the laws of your country before downloading this ebook. See comments about copyright issues at end of book.

*** Start of this Doctrine Publishing Corporation Digital Book "Harper's Young People, June 8, 1880 - An Illustrated Weekly" ***

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[Illustration: HARPER'S

YOUNG PEOPLE

AN ILLUSTRATED WEEKLY.]

       *       *       *       *       *

VOL. I.--NO. 32. PUBLISHED BY HARPER & BROTHERS, NEW YORK. PRICE FOUR
CENTS.

Tuesday, June 8, 1880. Copyright, 1880, by HARPER & BROTHERS. $1.50 per
Year, in Advance.

       *       *       *       *       *



[Illustration: "THE TIDE WAS AGAINST THEM."]

[Begun in YOUNG PEOPLE No. 31, June 1.]

THE MORAL PIRATES.

BY WM. L. ALDEN.


CHAPTER II.

When Uncle John announced that the Department was satisfied with the
ability of the captain and crew to manage the _Whitewing_, the day for
sailing was fixed, and the boys laid in their stores. Each one had a
fishing-line and hooks, and Harry and Tom each took a fishing-pole--two
poles being as many as were needed, since most of the fishing would
probably be done with drop-lines. Uncle John lent Harry his
double-barrelled gun, and a supply of ammunition. Each boy took a tin
plate, a tin cup, knife, fork, and spoon. For cooking purposes, the boat
carried a coffee-pot, two tin cake-pans, which could be used as
frying-pans as well as for other purposes, and two small tin pails.
Harry's mother lent him several large round tin boxes, in which were
stored four pounds of coffee, two pounds of sugar, a pound of Indian
meal, a large quantity of crackers, some salt, and a little pepper. The
rest of the provisions consisted of two cans of soup, two cans of corned
beef, a can of roast beef, two small cans of devilled chicken, four cans
of fresh peaches, a little package of condensed beef for making beef
tea, and a cold boiled ham. The boat was furnished with an A tent, four
rubber blankets and four woollen blankets, a hatchet, a quantity of
spare cordage, a little bull's-eye lantern, which burnt olive-oil, and
a few copper nails, a pair of pliers, a small piece of zinc, a little
white lead, for mending a leak. Of course there was a bottle of oil for
the lantern; and Mrs. Schuyler added a box of pills and a bottle of
"Hamlin's Mixture" as medical stores. The boys wore blue flannel
trousers and shirts, and each one carried an extra pair of trousers, and
an extra shirt instead of a coat. These, with a few pairs of stockings
and two or three handkerchiefs, were all the clothing that they needed,
so Uncle John said; though the boys had imagined that they must take at
least two complete suits. He showed them that two flannel shirts worn at
the same time, one over the other, would be as warm as one shirt and a
coat, and that if their clothing became wet, it could be easily dried.
"Flannel and the compass are the two things that are indispensable to
navigation," said Uncle John. "If flannel shirts had not been invented,
Columbus would never have crossed the Atlantic." Perhaps there was a
little exaggeration in this; but when we remember that flannel is the
only material that is warm in cold weather and cool in hot weather, and
that dries almost as soon as it is wrung out and hung in the wind, it is
difficult to see how sailors could do without it.

The boys agreed very readily to take with them only what Uncle John
advised. Tom Schuyler, however, was very anxious to take a heavy iron
vise, which, he said, could be screwed on the gunwale of the boat, and
might prove to be very useful, although he could not say precisely what
he expected to use it for. Joe Sharpe also wanted to take a base-ball
and bat, but neither the vise nor the ball and bat were taken.

The _Whitewing_ started from the foot of East
One-hundred-and-twenty-seventh Street on a Monday morning in the middle
of July, at about nine o'clock. Quite a small crowd of friends were
present to see the boys off, and the neat appearance of the boat and her
crew attracted the attention of all the idlers along the shore. When all
the cargo was stowed, and everything was ready, Uncle John called the
boys aside, and said, "Now, boys, you must sign the articles."

"What are articles?" asked all the boys at once.

"They are certain regulations which every respectable pirate, or any
other sailor, for that matter, must agree to keep when he joins a ship.
I'll read the articles, and if any of you don't like any one of them,
say so frankly, for you must not begin a cruise in a dissatisfied state
of mind. Here are the articles:

"'I. _We, the captain and crew of the_ Whitewing, _promise to decide all
disputed questions by the vote of the majority, except questions
concerning the management of the boat. The orders of the captain, in all
matters connected with the management of the boat, shall be promptly
obeyed by the crew_.'

"Now if anybody thinks that the captain should not have the full control
of the boat, let him say so at once. Very likely the captain will make
mistakes; but the boat will be safer, even if the crew obeys a wrong
order, than it would be if every order should be debated by the crew.
You can't hold town-meetings when you are afloat. Harry, I think,
understands pretty well how to sail the boat. Will you agree to obey his
orders?"

All the boys said they would; and Joe Sharpe added that he thought the
captain ought to have the right to put mutineers in irons.

"That, let us hope, will not be necessary," said Uncle John. "Now listen
to the second article:

"'II. _We promise not to take corn, apples, or other property without
permission of the owner._'

"You will very likely camp near some field where corn, or potatoes, or
something eatable, is growing. Many people think there is no harm in
taking a few ears of corn or half a dozen apples. I want you to remember
that to take anything that is not your own, unless you have permission
to do so, is stealing. It's an ugly word, but it can't be smoothed over
in any way. Do you object to this article?"

Nobody objected to it. "We're moral pirates, Uncle John," said Tom
Schuyler, "and we won't disgrace the Department by stealing."

"I knew you would not except through thoughtlessness. Now these are all
the articles. I did think of asking you not to quarrel, or to use bad
language; but I don't believe it is necessary to ask you to make such a
promise, and if it were, you probably would not keep it. So sign the
articles, give them to the captain, and take your stations."

The articles were signed. The captain seated himself in the
stern-sheets, and took the yoke lines. The rest took their proper
places, and Joe Sharpe held the boat to the dock by the boat-hook. "Are
you all ready?" cried Uncle John.

"All ready, sir!" answered Harry.

"Then give way with your oars! Good-by, boys, and don't forget to send
reports to the Department."

The boat glided away from the shore with Tom and Jim each pulling a
single oar. The group on the wharf gave the boys a farewell cheer, and
in a few moments they were hid from sight by the Third Avenue Bridge.
The tide was against them, but the day was a cool one for the season,
and the boys rowed steadily on in the very best of spirits. There was a
light south wind, but as there were several bridges to pass, Harry
thought it best not to set the sail before reaching the Hudson River. It
required careful steering to avoid the steamboats, bridge piles, and
small boats; but the _Whitewing_ was guided safely, and her signal--a
red flag with a white cross--floated gayly at the bow.

Uncle John had made one serious mistake: he had forgotten all about the
tide, and never thought of the difficulty the boys would find in passing
Farmers-bridge with the tide against them. They had passed High Bridge,
and had entered a part of the river with which the boys were not
familiar, when Joe Sharpe suddenly called out, "There's a low bridge
right ahead that we can't pass." A few more strokes of the oars enabled
Harry to see a long low bridge, which completely blocked up the river
except at one place, that seemed not much wider than the boat. Through
this narrow channel the tide was rushing fiercely, the water heaping
itself up in waves that looked unpleasantly high and rough. The boat was
rowed as close as possible to the opening under the bridge; but the
current was so strong that the boys could not row against it, and even
if they had been able to stem it, the channel was too narrow to permit
them to use the oars.

Harry ordered the boat to be rowed up to the bridge at a place where
there was a quiet eddy, and all the crew went ashore to contrive some
way of overcoming the difficulty. Presently Harry thought of a plan. "If
we could get the painter under the bridge, we could pull the boat
through easy enough if there was nobody in her."

"That's all very well," said Joe, "but how are you going to get the
painter through?"

"I know," cried Jim. "Let's take a long piece of rope and drop it in the
water the other side of the bridge. The current will float it through,
and we can catch it and tie it to the painter."

The plan seemed a good one; and so the boys took a piece of spare rope
from the boat, tied a bit of board to one end of it for a float, dropped
the float into the water, and held on to the other end of the rope. When
the float came in sight below the bridge they caught it with the
boat-hook, and throwing away the piece of board, tied the rope to the
painter. "Now let Joe Sharpe get in the bow of the boat, to keep her
from running against anything, and we'll haul her right through,"
exclaimed Harry.

Joe took his place in the bow, and pushing the boat off, let her float
into the current. Then the three other boys pulled on the rope, and
were delighted to see the boat glide under the bridge. Suddenly Joe gave
a wild yell. "She's sinking, boys!" he cried: "let go the rope, or I'll
be drowned!" The boys, terribly frightened, dropped the rope, and in
another minute the boat floated back on the current, half full of water,
and without Joe. Almost as soon as it came in sight, Harry had thrown
off his shoes and jumped into the river.

[TO BE CONTINUED.]



MR. MARTIN'S GAME.

BY JIMMY BROWN.


What if he is a great deal older than I am! that doesn't giv him any
right to rumple my hair, does it? I'm willing to respect old age, of
course, but I want my hair respected too.

But rumpling hair isn't enough for Mr. Martin; he must call me "Bub,"
and "Sonny." I might stand "Sonny," but I won't stand being called "Bub"
by any living man--not if I can help it. I've told him three or four
times, "My name isn't 'Bub,' Mr. Martin. My name's Jim, or Jimmy," but
he would just grin in an exhausperating kind of way, and keep on calling
me "Bub."

My sister Sue doesn't like him any better than I do. He comes to see her
about twice a week, and I've heard her say, "Goodness me, there's that
tiresome old bachelor again." But she treats him just as polite as she
does anybody; and when he brings her candy, she says, "Oh, Mr. Martin,
you are _too_ good." There's a great deal of make-believe about girls, I
think.

Now that I've mentioned candy, I will say that he might pass it around,
but he never thinks of such a thing. Mr. Travers, who is the best of all
Sue's beaux, always brings candy with him, and gives me a lot. Then he
generally gives me a quarter to go to the post-office for him, because
he forgot to go, and expects something very important. It takes an hour
to go to the post-office and back, but I'd do anything for such a nice
man.

One night--it was Mr. Travers's regular night--Mr. Martin came, and
wasn't Sue mad! She knew Mr. Travers would come in about half an hour,
and she always made it a rule to keep her young men separate.

She sent down word that she was busy, and would be down stairs after a
while. Would Mr. Martin please sit down and wait. So he sat down on the
front piazza and waited.

I was sitting on the grass, practicing mumble-te-peg a little, and
by-and-by Mr. Martin says, "Well, Bub, what are you doing?"

"Playing a game," says I. "Want to learn it?"

"Well, I don't care if I do," says he. So he came out, and sat in the
grass, and I showed him how to play.

Just then Mr. Travers arrived, and Sue came down, and was awfully glad
to see both her friends. "But what in the world are you doing," she says
to Mr. Martin. When she heard that he was learning the game, she said,
"How interesting, do play one game."

Mr. Martin finally said he would. So we played a game, and I let him
beat me very easy. He laughed fit to kill himself when I drew the peg,
and said it was the best game he ever played.

"Is there any game you play any better than this, Sonny?" said he, in
his most irragravating style.

"Let's have another game," said I. "Only you must promise to draw the
peg fair, if I beat you."

"All right," said he. "I'll draw the peg if you beat me, Bub."

Oh, he felt so sure he was a first-class player! I don't like a
conceited man, no matter if he is only a boy.

You can just imagine how quick I beat him. Why, I went right through to
"both ears" without stopping, and the first time I threw the knife over
my head it stuck in the ground.

I cut a beautiful peg out of hard wood--one of those sharp, slender pegs
that will go through anything but a stone. I drove it in clear out of
sight, and Mr. Martin, says he, "Why, Sonny, nobody couldn't possibly
draw that peg."

"I've drawn worse pegs than that," said I. "You've got to clear away the
earth with your chin and front teeth, and then you can draw it."

"That is nonsense," says Mr. Martin, growing red in the face.

"This is a fair and square game," says I, "and you gave your word to
draw the peg if I beat you."

"I do hope Mr. Martin will play fair," said Sue. "It would be too bad to
cheat a little boy."

So Mr. Martin laid down and tried it, but he didn't like it one bit.
"See here, Jimmy," said he, "I'll give you half a dollar, and we'll
consider the peg drawn."

"That is bribery and corruption," said I. "Mr. Martin, I can't be
bribed, and didn't think you'd try to hire me to let you break your
promise."

When he saw I wouldn't let up on him, he laid down again and went to
work.

It was the best fun I ever knew. I just rolled on the ground and laughed
till I cried. Sue and Mr. Travers didn't roll, but they laughed till Sue
got up and ran into the house, where I could hear her screaming on the
front-parlor sofa, and mother crying out, "My darling child, where does
it hurt you, won't you have the doctor, Jane do bring the camphor."

Mr. Martin gnawed away at the earth, and used swear-words to himself,
and was perfectly raging. After a while he got the peg, and then he got
up with his face about the color of a flower-pot, and put on his hat,
and went out of the front gate rubbing his face with his handkerchief,
and never so much as saying good-night. He didn't come near the house
again for two weeks.

Mr. Travers gave me a half-dollar to go to the post-office to make up
for the one I had refused, and told me that I had displayed roaming
virtue, though I don't know exactly what he meant.

He looked over this story, and corrected the spelling for me, and told
me to send it to the YOUNG PEOPLE. Only it is to be a secret that he
helped me. I'd do almost anything for him, and I'm going to ask Sue to
marry him just to please me.



A CHAT ABOUT PHILATELY.

BY J. J. CASEY.


Philately? What is that?

Many years ago, beyond the longest recollection of the oldest of the
young people, a school-teacher in Paris (so one story goes) advised her
pupils to get specimens of different postage stamps, in order the better
to study their geography. There was a general searching among old
letters to secure these little bits of bright-colored papers. Parents
and friends were asked to save the stamps from their letters; strangers
at the post-office were pounced upon, the moment they received their
letters, for the stamps; and from this little beginning sprang
stamp-collecting.

At first it was limited to boys and girls; but the older people, seeing
the interest excited over these little pictures, and led on by their
endeavors to please their young acquaintances, began themselves taking
an interest in the things. From a pleasure it gradually became a study,
and a most fascinating one; and soon there were no more enthusiastic
collectors than the people advanced in years, wealth, position, and
social, literary, and scientific attainments. And to-day many great
people turn with pleasure from the cares of their life to the pages of
their stamp albums, to look over the numerous evidences of the growth
of the postal system, or to help some young friend in the filling up of
a modest little blank-book.

In spite of the ridicule which has been heaped upon the collector of
stamps, the interest in stamp-collecting is as great to-day as it was a
dozen years ago, and from Prince Edward Island to Australia will be
found stamp "merchants," as they delight to call themselves, stamp
papers, and stamp agencies, to supply the continually increasing demands
of young and old collectors. Societies exist in several countries, at
the meetings of which most learned papers are read to show the why and
the wherefore of this or that stamp, and even the government at
Montevideo has authorized a stamp society, lately established there, to
use a private postal card.

This pursuit of stamp collecting is called Philately, from two Greek
words, which have been translated "the love of stamps," and those who
engage in the pleasure or the pursuit are pleased to call themselves
Philatelists.

This little "chat" shall be closed by a reference to the illustrations
of some curious or interesting stamps, and a notice of stamps that have
been issued during the past few months.

[Illustration: FIG. 1.]

Fig. 1 is one of the series of United States stamps for postage on large
packages of newspapers and periodicals, and represents a value of
forty-eight dollars. There is a higher value of sixty dollars. These
stamps are perfect gems, and are among the most beautiful in the world.

[Illustration: FIG. 2.]

Fig. 2 represents one of the stamps in use to-day in Japan. It is only
necessary to compare a specimen of this issue with the first stamps used
in Japan to see how rapidly the Japanese acquire every modern
improvement.

[Illustration: FIG. 3.]

Fig. 3 is one of the current Guatemala stamps, printed in Paris, which
found their way to collectors before they were delivered to the
government. The thick black line on either side is a bird's tail--the
quezal, or national bird, one of the most beautiful on this continent.

[Illustration: FIG. 4.]

[Illustration: FIG. 5.]

Figs. 4 and 5 represent stamps used in two of the native states of
India. The native stamps of India, ugly as many of them are, are among
the most interesting found in the collector's album, and quite difficult
to obtain.

[Illustration: FIG. 6.]

Fig. 6 is one from the South African Republic, or the Transvaal, lately
seized by England.

Some of the newest issues are:

     ANTIGUA.--A new value, 4_d_., blue; and a postal card, 1-1/2_d_.,
     red-brown on buff.

     CAPE OF GOOD HOPE.--The 4_d_., blue, surcharged in red above,
     "Three Pence."

     DOMINICA.--New values of 1/2_d_., yellow; 2-1/2_d_., brown; 4_d_.,
     blue; and a postal card of 1-1/2_d_., red-brown.

     DANISH WEST INDIES.--A new value, 50_c_., same type as current
     series, in mauve.

     GOLD COAST.--Stamps of 1/2_d_., golden yellow, and 2_d_., green;
     and card of 1-1/2_d_., red-brown.

     GREAT BRITAIN.--The 2-1/2_d_. stamp is printed in blue, and the
     2_s_. changes from blue to red-brown.

     MONTSERRAT.--New stamps of 2-1/2_d_., red-brown, and 4_d_., blue;
     and postal card of 1-1/2_d_., red-brown.

     NEVIS.--New stamps of 2-1/2_d_., red-brown, and 4_d_., blue; and
     postal card of 1-1/2_d_., red-brown.

     PERU.--A new series of stamps is in preparation, but for the
     present the authorities surcharge the current stamp with the
     words, "Union Postale Universelle" and "Plata," in an oval. The
     1_c_. changes its color to green, the 2_c_. to carmine, and the
     20_c_. is suppressed.

     ROUMELIA.--This province of Turkey begins its stamp history with a
     postal card of the value of 10 paras, as expressed on the face,
     but in reality of 15 paras, at which it is sold.



BUTTERFLIES AND BEES.


  Butterflies are merry things,
  Gayly painted are their wings,
  And they never carry stings.
  Bees are grave and busy things,
  Gold their jackets, brown their wings,
  And _they always_ carry stings.
  Yet--isn't it extremely funny?--
  Bees, not butterflies, make honey.



[Illustration: GATHERING THE WATER-CRESSES.]

AN APRONFUL OF WATER-CRESSES.

BY MARGARET EYTINGE.


Cissy Mount came down to the gurgling, sparkling little brook at the
foot of the hill, where Frank Hillborn and his brother Dave were
gathering water-cresses.

"I'm going to Fairview, Frank," she said, "and came to ask you if you
would look in on mother by-and-by, and see if she needs anything."

"Of course I will," said Frank. "But you're not going to walk to
Fairview, Cissy? That's a long tramp for a girl."

"Yes, I am," she replied. "There's no other way I can go. Nobody that I
know ever drives down there. Mother wants me to try and get her some
sewing to do. You know there are five or six big stores there, and
mother can sew and knit beautifully. I wish I had time to pick some wild
flowers to take with me. Town-people like wild flowers."

"A good many of them like something fresh and green to eat better than
they do wild flowers," said Frank; "so you just take along some of these
water-cresses. Aren't they beauties? They're the first we've gathered
this spring, and I hope they'll bring you luck."

"But I have no basket," said Cissy.

"Carry them in your apron. They won't hurt;" and as she held it up, he
heaped it full of moist green bunches.

"That's just like you, Frank Hillborn," said Dave, when the girl had
gone. "What's the good of our owning the only water-cress brook for
miles if you're going to give 'em away to everybody that comes along?"

"Everybody that comes along?" repeated Frank, with a cheery laugh. "I've
only given a basketful to Ezra Lee--he lent us his fishing-line when we
lost ours--and an apronful to Cissy Mount. Poor Cissy! Guess there's
hard times at her house since her father was killed on the railroad and
her mother got lame. And you know she's going to ask for work, and it
most always puts folks in good-humor if you carry 'em something nice."

"All right," said Dave; "but don't you give away any more, for we want
to make five dollars out of 'em this season, anyhow."

Cissy Mount walked bravely on mile after mile, until half of her
journey had been accomplished. Then she stopped and looked around for a
place where she might rest awhile. A pleasant little lane, on either
side of which stood a row of tall cedar-trees, branched off from the
main road. Into this lane she turned, and sat down on the grass near the
side gate of a fine garden. And as she sat there peeping through a hole
in the hedge at some lovely beds of hyacinths and tulips, radiant in the
sunshine, a queer-looking little old gentleman, with no hat on, but
having a wonderful quantity of brown hair, came scolding down the garden
path, followed by a man carrying a camp-chair. The old gentleman as he
talked grew more and more excited, and at last, to Cissy's great
astonishment, grasped the abundant brown locks, lifted them completely
off his head, waved them in the air an instant, and then gravely
replaced them. As he came near, the child could hear what he was saying:
"I sent word from Europe when this place was bought that if there were
no water-cress stream upon it, one was to be made at once. That's a year
ago."

"Beg pardon, sir," said the man, humbly, "but I did my best, sir. It
isn't my fault, sir. Sometimes you can't _make_ water-cresses grow, all
you can do, sir."

"And what's to be done with the puddle--for it's nothing but a puddle,
though a big one--that you've disfigured my grounds with?" asked the old
gentleman.

"Miss Grace says it will be a capital place for raising water-lilies,
sir," said the man.

"Oh, indeed! Very fine. But I can't eat water-lilies. There's no pepper
about them, and it's the pepper I want."

"Perhaps I can find some cresses for sale somewhere near, sir. Shall I
go and look, sir?"

"No," snarled the master. "By the time you came back with them, if you
got them, ten chances to one I shouldn't want them. When I want things,
I want them at once. Yes, I'd give five dollars for some fresh
water-cresses this very minute;" and he again seized his wig and
flourished it in the air.

With trembling fingers Cissy opened the gate, and walked in. The
servant-man placed the camp-chair on the ground. The old gentleman sat
down in it, first hanging his hair on the back, leaving his head as
smooth and shining as an ivory ball, looked at the intruder with keen
black eyes, and asked, sharply, "Well, what do _you_ want?"

"To give you these water-cresses," she said, with a smile, holding up
her apron. "They were gathered only a short time ago, and my apron's
quite clean, sir."

"Bless me!" exclaimed the old gentleman, "what a wonderful coincidence!
and"--taking a bunch and beginning to eat them--"what fine
water-cresses! And I suppose you expect that five dollars, for of course
you heard what I said."

"No, sir," said Cissy, shyly, "I never thought of the money. I know you
only said that as people often say things. I'm glad to give them to you,
sir, because you wanted them so much."

The old gentleman burst into a loud laugh, put on his wig, and asked her
name. And then by degrees he got the whole story from her--the death of
the father, the accident that lamed the mother, the gift of the cresses
from Frank Hillborn, and the five miles yet to go in search of work.
"And what was your mother's name before she was married?" was his last
question.

"Prudence Kelly, sir."

"Prudence Kelly! I knew it!" he shouted, springing from his chair. And
then, in a still louder voice, he called, "Grace! Grace!" and a pretty
young lady came running toward him. "I've found your old nurse, my dear,
your faithful old nurse that we have lost sight of for years. This is
her daughter. And she is in want. Take the carriage and go to her at
once. What a blessing that I got up in a scolding humor this morning,
and wanted water-cresses! Go with Grace, Cecilia my child, and when you
get home, give this five-dollar bill to your friend Frank, and tell him
it isn't the first time a little act of kindness has brought luck."



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

THE STORY OF GEORGE WASHINGTON.

BY EDWARD CARY.


CHAPTER IX.

Very soon after General Washington was elected President a war broke out
between France and England. It was natural that people in this country
should wish to help the French, who had helped us. But General
Washington saw that if we once got in the way of taking a part in wars
between other countries, where our own rights were not in danger, we
should always be at war. He saw, too, that we were a small nation then,
compared to the nations of Europe, and that we might easily lose the
freedom we had fought so long for. He dreaded to put our freedom in
danger unless compelled to. So he issued an order to the people, as he
had a right to do, not to take part with one nation or the other, but to
mind their own business.

This was wise, because the British government was only too ready to pick
a quarrel with us. General Washington also went further. He made a
treaty of peace and commerce with Great Britain, which kept war from our
shores for twenty years, and gave the country a chance to grow. The
people did not like this treaty much. There was a great deal of
ill-feeling toward Great Britain, growing out of the long fight we had
had with her. But General Washington, who was ready to fight for real
rights, felt that it was wrong to get into a quarrel from mere angry
feeling. He was very anxious to keep the two countries at peace until
their people could get calm, and go to trading with each other, and
learn to live together in friendship. Surely this was both sensible and
good. It was fortunate for the country that a man was at the head of its
government wise enough to see what was right, and firm enough to do it.

Just at the time Washington was elected President, the French people
rose against their government, which had many faults, and drove away
many of their rulers, and cut off their King's head. Among the leaders
was Lafayette, who, however, was no party to the cruelties which were
practiced. The other kings of Europe undertook to restore the King of
France to power, and in the war which followed Lafayette was taken
prisoner and closely confined. His wife wrote to Washington, asking him
to try and get Lafayette released. Washington gladly did all that he
could, but it was of no use. However, he sent money to Madame Lafayette,
for her property had been taken away, and he brought over to this
country one of Lafayette's sons, and took him into his family, and cared
for him as if he were his own. The boy was named after Washington, and
always remembered the President's kindness with thankfulness.

When the first term of four years for which Washington was elected came
to an end, he was chosen again, without a single vote against him,
though he was very anxious to go back to private life.

Finally, at the end of his second term, when he had been eight years
President, he refused to serve any longer. Just as he had written a
farewell address to his soldiers, after being eight years in command, he
now wrote a farewell address to the American people. I hope all my young
readers will read it as soon as they are old enough to understand it. It
is written in a quaint and somewhat stiff style, for Washington always
found it easier to act than to talk or write; but it is full of wisdom.
Even now, eighty-four years after it was written, there is much in it
which we ought to remember and try to carry out.

It was the spring of 1797 when Washington gave up the President's
office, and returned to Mount Vernon. He had visited his beloved home
frequently during his Presidency, and had kept a very careful watch over
it in his absence. Again he took up with great delight the old round of
peaceful duties. Every day he was up before the sun. Every day he was in
the saddle, riding over his large farms, watching his laborers and his
crops, planning changes and directing work. In the evening he saw much
company--many, indeed, who had little claim on him, who came from idle
curiosity, and wearied him with their presence. But he was always
courteous. He enjoyed the society of his family and friends very keenly.
He had no children of his own, but he had reared first the children, and
afterward two of the grandchildren, of his wife in his home. He took
great pleasure with them, and was as merry as he was loving. He hoped to
live the remainder of his days in quiet in this circle.

[TO BE CONTINUED.]



LITTLE FATIMA.

BY SARA KEABLES HUNT.


It was a beautiful Oriental picture, and I paused in my walk along the
banks of the Nile to sketch her, that dark-eyed Arab girl, as she half
reclined in the sand, the western sunlight flickering through the green
boughs of a clump of palms, and falling upon the upturned face and
purplish braids with their glitter of gold coins. In the background were
a few broken columns, relic of some past grandeur, and at a little
distance a camel crouched in the sand, gazing as mournfully as the
Sphynx across the desert. The flowing Eastern dress of the child was
pushed back from one beautifully rounded arm, but the other was
concealed, as if she had tried to hide it from even the sunlight. It was
crippled and pitifully deformed.

Poor little Fatima! I knew her sensitive spirit, and I put my pencil out
of sight as I came nearer, for I saw on her face the shadow of a
restless discontent. She smiled as she bade me welcome, but it was a sad
smile, and changed to tears as she spoke.

"I am of no use," she said in Arabic. "If I were a boy, they would care
for me; but a girl! They scorn me and my disfigured arm. I can never do
any good in the world; never, never. And, oh, lady, there is a soul
within me that longs to do something for somebody! I want to accomplish
something; not to sit here day after day making figures in the sand,
only to see them drift back again into a dull level. But I shall live in
vain. What can I do with this poor crippled arm?"

It was a difficult task to soothe her; but I think, after awhile, she
felt that the great Allah had done all things well, and peace crept over
her tired little heart.

"But, dear child," I said, as I left her, "it may be that you can do
more good with your one arm than I ever can with my two. We do not know
what may happen."

And so I went home to my little cottage, taking the field path instead
of the railroad track, as I usually did. When I reached the house, and
called for my little girl-baby, who often came toddling out to meet me,
all was silent, and in answer to my inquiries the nurse said she had
just gone down the track a little way to meet me.

"Down the track! Oh, the train! the train! It's time for the train! Why
do you stand here idle? Call Hassan and Mahomet. Run, and save her!"

I rushed wildly along the embankment. How plain it all is to me now,
even to the bits of pottery gleaming in the sand, and the distant echo
of an Arab's song as it floated over the hills! I saw the white dress
of my darling far ahead, and stumbled on--how, I hardly knew. The train
was coming! I could hear it plunging on; I could see the fearful light.
Oh, if I might reach her!

But who is that? Can it be Fatima? It is Fatima, waving her arms wildly
as she speeds onward. She is on the bank! She is there! She grasps the
child! And the train plunges past me with a wild glare; and there,
before me, is my baby, my golden-haired baby, safe and unharmed, but
Fatima lay dying on the iron rail. I clasped her to my heart, and called
her name amid my sobs. She lifted the long, dark eyelashes, and smiled.
"Allah be praised!" she murmured. Then in her weak, broken English she
said:

"Me do something wid dis poor arm; me die for you baby!" She fell back
in my arms; and so we carried her to my home, white and insensible.

But she did not die. The deformed arm had to be severed from the
shoulder, but her life was saved; and to-day, surrounded by all that
grateful hearts can give, she is one of the happiest little creatures on
the banks of the Nile.



A ST. ULRIC DOLL.

BY THE AUTHOR OF "THE CATSKILL FAIRIES."


The steam-ship _Columbine_ was crossing the ocean from Liverpool to New
York. On the deck the passengers walked about, looking at the sea and
sky. Occasionally they saw a flock of gulls circling about overhead, or
a shoal of dolphins leaping up in the blue waves. Among these passengers
was the shy gentleman. Now the shy gentleman was tall and large, with a
full brown beard, which should have made him quite bold, but he was not.
If a stranger spoke to him, he blushed, and if he tried to say something
really wise, he merely stammered, so that his meaning was lost. As for
tea-cups and wine-glasses, he always broke them with his elbow, or by
allowing them to slip through his big fingers, while chairs and little
tables seemed placed in his way for the sole purpose of his tumbling
over them.

In his cabin was his portmanteau, filled with all sorts of treasures. A
Paris doll and her wardrobe were given the place of honor. The beautiful
blonde hair of this fashionable lady must not be disarranged, and the
boxes containing her dresses and gloves, her boots, mantles, and
parasols, required much space. She was a very important person. In a
corner was wedged the case of one of those mechanical bears covered with
black fur, and wound up by means of a key in his side. In the opposite
corner were the Venetian lion of St. Mark, made of brass, trinkets of
straw and glass, and a little Neapolitan boy in mosaic on the lid of a
box. The St. Ulric doll, folded in a bit of tissue-paper, had been
allowed to fall down anywhere. She was made of a single stick of wood,
with a head carved on top, but without arms or legs, like the Italian
babies, who are wound about with cloths until they resemble little
mummies.

She remained quietly where she had been placed, between a flannel
waistcoat and a pair of stockings, with her head resting on a meerschaum
pipe. She thought of her home, and sighed. Yes, she was homesick,
because she loved her own land as only the Tyrolese and the Swiss love
their native mountains.

The shy gentleman had bought the St. Ulric doll at a booth under the
stone archway of one of the streets of Botzen. He could not carry away
with him the beautiful Austrian Tyrol, except as pictures in his own
mind, and therefore he picked up the droll and ugly little St. Ulric
doll.

"When I give the doll to Nelly, I will tell her about the mountain peaks
where the hunters climb to shoot the chamois and the black-cock, and the
valleys down toward Italy where the grapes ripen, and all about the
castles perched like watch-towers along the Brenner route," thought the
shy gentleman, wrapping the purchase in the bit of tissue-paper. "I must
not forget to add that this Brenner Pass, where the traveller of to-day
journeys on the railway from Munich to Verona, is one of the oldest
highways in the world; the Etruscan merchants used to pass here, trading
in iron with the Northern nations, long before the Romans."

One day a tremendous rattling was heard inside the case of the
mechanical bear.

"What is the matter? Are you seasick?" inquired the lion of St. Mark.

"No," grumbled the mechanical bear. "I have been standing on my head too
long, and if this voyage does not soon end, my machinery will be out of
order. I shall growl at the wrong time."

"We must be gifts for children. I hope they will like us," said the St.
Ulric doll.

"I hope we shall like _them_," said the French doll. "I come from a shop
window on the Boulevard des Italiens. How can I live out of Paris!"

Just then the lid of the portmanteau was lifted, and a Custom-house
officer looked in. The steamer had reached New York.

"Here he is, mamma!" cried a little girl, as a carriage paused before
the door of a house on Gramercy Square.

She had been looking out of the window. Now she ran down stairs, and
opened the front door. Two gentlemen got out of the carriage; one was
her uncle Fred, and the other a traveller with a brown beard, whose arms
were full of mysterious parcels and boxes. This was the shy gentleman,
and Nelly had always found him a good friend. Soon the parcels were
distributed. The mosaic box was for mother, the brass lion for Uncle
Fred, and all the rest for Nelly. She was wild with delight. The Paris
doll fascinated her. All her friends were invited to admire the lady
from the Boulevards. Nelly could not eat, or sleep, or study her
lessons. She tried on all the dresses, gloves, bonnets, and shoes.

The St. Ulric doll had been glanced at, laid on the table, and
forgotten. At length Nelly wearied of so much splendor, and her mother
found the Paris doll too fine for every-day play. Nelly noticed the St.
Ulric doll then.

"You have no clothes, poor thing," she said.

She opened her own work-box, sought in a bag for a piece of blue
flannel, and began to sew. Soon the St. Ulric doll was clothed. To be
sure, her gown was like a bag tied about her neck.

Nelly's mother, a pretty widow, said, "I did not know he loved me."

Nelly whispered to the St. Ulric doll that her mother was to marry the
shy gentleman.

"I thought there was a good reason for bringing us across the sea," said
the St. Ulric doll to the mechanical bear and the Paris lady.

The latter was out of temper.

"Already the little girl loves you best, because she has made your gown
herself," she said.



THE GRIZZLY BEAR.


The grizzly bear is the most terrible of all beasts. Its great strength,
its enormous size, its ferocity, and its courage render it a more
formidable enemy than the lion. It ranges the westward-lying slopes of
the Rocky Mountains from Mexico to British America, and is a constant
terror to the regions it inhabits.

The average length of the grizzly bear is about seven feet, and its
weight nine hundred to a thousand pounds, although much larger specimens
have been killed in Arizona and other Southern regions.

Grizzlies do not often attack men unless surprised or infuriated, or
driven by desperate hunger to seize upon everything which crosses their
path; but all animals, from a mouse to an enormous buffalo, fall an
easy prey to this monarch of the far West.

[Illustration: GRIZZLY BEAR AND BUFFALOES.]

The immense daring of the grizzly bear, and its entire confidence in its
strength, are evident from the fact that it will not hesitate to attack
buffaloes even when a whole herd are together. It has been known to kill
a buffalo with one blow of its terrible fore-paw, and afterward to drag
it away and bury it. It can easily dig a hole with its cimeter-like
claws, and it usually buries what it can not devour, as a store to fall
back upon when provisions are scarce.

Hunters tell many stories of sharp contests between grizzlies and
buffaloes. The bear will prowl by the side of a herd, keeping under
cover of the bushes until some big fat fellow comes within easy reach,
when it rushes on its victim, and with one blow fells it to the ground.
The other buffaloes may rush to the rescue of their comrade, but the
powerful grizzly is generally a match for them all, and instances are
rare where the savage beast has been driven to crawl away defeated.

The claws of this beast are longer than a man's finger, and are very
much prized as ornaments by the Indians. To wear a necklace of bear's
claws, taken from an animal killed by himself, is one of the highest
ambitions of an Indian brave; for if he is thus decorated, his courage
and superior strength are acknowledged by his whole tribe. An Indian
will sell his horses, his blankets, everything he possesses, but nothing
can induce him to part with his bear-claw necklace, which marks him as
an invincible warrior. To obtain this coveted prize Indians will run the
most extreme risks. Are the enormous foot-prints of a grizzly discovered
in the vicinity of the camp, the men all set out in hot pursuit, and
many a poor Indian has lost his life in fierce encounter with this
monarch of the mountains. If the bear can be traced to its den among the
rocks, the Indians will lay trails of powder leading from the lair in
different directions, which, as they burn, set fire to the dry grass and
stubble. As the animal, startled by the smoke and flame, rushes from its
hiding-place, the Indians, who lie concealed behind rocks and bushes,
pelt it with blazing pine knots, and fire volley after volley from their
rifles into its body, until some lucky shot enters the heart or brain,
and the monster staggers and falls dead to the ground.

This beast has a strong hold on life, and has often been known to run
with great speed, and even to swim deep rivers, with twenty or more
large rifle-balls in its body. It is so difficult to kill, and so
furious when aroused, that a hunter will never attack the grizzly
single-handed if the encounter can be avoided. The hunter may escape by
climbing a tree; for although young grizzlies can climb like a cat, the
old bears can do nothing more than stand on their hind-legs in vain
endeavors to reach the branches where the man lies concealed, and growl
spitefully. Their extreme heaviness, however, is thought by the Indians
to be all that prevents them from climbing.

A hunter once took refuge in a tree from one of these savage beasts, and
having vainly discharged all his ammunition at the monster, he
endeavored to hit it in the eye with cones, thinking to drive it away.
But the grizzly only became more infuriated, and began a brisk war-dance
around the tree, howling all the while in a terrible manner. At length
the branch upon which the hunter was sitting began to give way, and the
unfortunate man felt himself doomed to certain death. Closing his eyes,
he resigned himself to the worst, when, instead of falling, as he
expected, into the open jaws of the huge beast, he, together with the
heavy branch upon which he had been sitting, landed with a tremendous
thump upon the grizzly's head. The animal was so astonished and
frightened at this sudden and unexpected assault, that it took to its
heels, and soon disappeared in the forest. Such miraculous escapes,
however, are not frequent, and the number of Indians and hunters killed
by grizzlies is very large.

Young grizzlies have often been captured, and when very small are as
playful and affectionate as dogs. But they are not to be trusted, for as
they grow older, their savage nature develops, and they are liable to
become dangerous property. Unless they can be surprised away from the
mother, their capture is attended by the utmost peril. Nothing can
exceed the fury of the mother bear if her little ones are molested.
Rising on her hind-legs for a moment to survey the object of her hatred,
she will utter a hoarse "huff, huff, huff," and charge madly, and wary
and courageous must be the hunter who can overcome this savage monster.

Hunting the grizzly is usually accomplished by parties of men well
mounted, and with bands of trained dogs, but the huge beast will make a
desperate fight for its life, and often severely wounds numbers of its
assailants before being forced itself to succumb.



[Illustration: A MINIATURE YACHT REGATTA.--DRAWN BY F. S. COZZENS.--[SEE
NEXT PAGE.]]

MINIATURE YACHTS.


On the preceding page is an illustration of a miniature yacht regatta on
the Lake in Prospect Park, Brooklyn. In that beautiful Park there are
few sights to be seen as beautiful as this. The dainty yachts, perfect
in every detail, look like graceful white-winged birds skimming over the
water, and the announcement of a regatta on the Lake often attracts more
spectators than similar announcements of "grown-up" regattas down the
bay. Many of these spectators are very critical, and attend these
regattas in order to study fine points of sailing, and to learn what
models will show the greatest speed.

The little yachts are so carefully planned and built that they often
serve as models for those of many tons. Some of the finest yachts of the
New York, Brooklyn, Atlantic, and Seawanhaka Yacht Clubs are built from
models furnished by winners of races and regattas on the lakes of
Central and Prospect Parks.

Two regularly organized and officered clubs, the New York and Brooklyn
Miniature Yacht Clubs, are the rivals of these lakes, and many exciting
match races are sailed between the flyers of the two clubs. These races
and all the regattas are governed by the regular rules of yachting, time
allowances being made for differences of measurement, and the amount of
canvas allowed each boat, as well as the course to be sailed, being
accurately defined.

Of the miniature yachts, schooners of the first class are generally
about sixty inches long, are heavily sparred--that is, they have very
tall masts, long booms, and bow-sprit--and are ballasted with very deep
and heavy lead keels. They are either "built" or "cut"--that is, ribbed
and planked, or worked out from a single block of wood.

They carry rudders merely to make them look ship-shape, and are steered
entirely by their sails. These are so arranged as to balance fore and
aft, and the jib and main sheets are made of elastic rubber, so nicely
adjusted that if the boat is inclined to sail too close to the wind, the
main-sheet stretches, the mainsail is eased off, and she resumes her
proper course, with the wind free. If she is inclined to "fall off" too
much, and run before the wind, the jib-sheet stretches, the wind spills
out of the jib, and the pressure upon her aftersails quickly brings her
up on the wind again.

The fleet at Prospect Park this season numbers some fifty sail, from
sixty-inch schooners down to ten-inch cat-boats, and contains schooners,
sloops, cat-boats, catamarans, and one square-rigged steamer. An English
cutter will probably be added to the fleet very soon, and interesting
races between her and the boats of American model are expected.



EASY BOTANY.


JUNE.

June has many beautiful flowering trees, and many rare and remarkable
plants. Some of the anemones bloom in April and May, but several wait
for June. Among these the rare red anemone is found on rocky banks in
Western Vermont, in Northern New York, and Pennsylvania.

Among the pines and maples of Cape Ann, at Manchester, Massachusetts, we
find the laurel-magnolia, or sweet-bay, with silky leaves and buds, and
deliciously fragrant cream-white flowers. This charming shrub seems to
belong to the South, but has strangely strayed away, and made for itself
a cozy home on the "stern and rock-bound coast" of New England. This
magnolia also grows in Pennsylvania and Southern New York.

Belonging to the same fair family is the tulip-tree, with large
tulip-shaped flowers tinged with yellow, orange, and green. These trees
are found in rich soil in the Middle, Southern, and Western States.

Another wonderful plant of June is the large water-lily the _Nelumbo
luteum_, or water-chinquepin. This plant apparently belongs to the East
Indies, and seems to be nearly related to the pink lotus, or sacred bean
of India. The American species is rare, being found at but few places;
but Connecticut professes to possess it in the Connecticut River, near
Lyme; and it is found in the Delaware River, near Philadelphia, at
Woodstown and Swedesborough, New Jersey, and in several Western lakes.
The leaves are circular, from one to two feet in diameter, and raised
high above the water; the fragrant flowers are pale yellow; the seeds,
sunk deeply in a receptacle, are as large as acorns.

Our own beautiful white pond-lily is well known and well beloved; and
few New-Englanders are unfamiliar with the serene ponds and still waters
where the lily pods make a carpet on which rest the lovely heads of
these delicious favorites.

At Sandwich and Barnstable, Massachusetts, and Kennebunk, Maine, are
found lilies of a fine rose-color. The common cow-lily, as it is called,
though not a beauty like its relatives, is a pleasing variety, being of
a rich yellow color.

Next we come to the wonderful pitcher-plants, whose chosen homes are in
the black mud of peat-bogs and swamps.

The one with which we are most familiar is favored not only with a
botanical name of seven syllables, but has the common names of
side-saddle-flower, pitcher-plant, and hunter's-cup--all referring more
or less to the curious leaves, which are hollow, and shaped like little
pitchers, and are always found partly filled with water. The flower,
nodding on a tall stalk, is as singular as the leaves; it is of a deep
reddish-purple color, the petals arching over a little green umbrella in
the centre, which covers the stamens. This striking and interesting
plant may be easily found by any enterprising young botanist who is not
afraid of mud and water, as it grows from Maine to Illinois and
southward.

Another queer little dweller in bogs and swamps and wet meadows is the
sundew, one species of which may be found in June, and others later. The
leaves of this peculiar plant are covered with fine reddish-brown hairs,
or glands, which furnish small drops of fluid, glittering like
dew-drops.

Three species of wild oxalis, or wood-sorrel, should not be overlooked.
The _yellow_, which is found everywhere, is so common as to be
unappreciated; but the _white_, with petals streaked with red lines, is
very pretty: it is found in deep, cold woods in Massachusetts and the
Middle States. The _violet_ wood-sorrel is, however, the beauty of the
family, and rare enough to require being searched for. It springs from a
bulb in shady, rocky woods in New Jersey, Pennsylvania, and New York;
three or four soft purple blossoms nod on a slender stalk, and it is a
lovely little plant. All the wood-sorrels are attractive and interesting
from the graceful and pathetic habit which they have of folding up and
drooping their delicate leaves at night-fall, opening them at the early
light of morning.

The showy wild lupine comes out with long racemes of purple, pink, blue,
and white blossoms, covering sandy fields with a flush of color.

The dear wild roses make the wood paths beautiful, and the indescribably
delicious fragrance of the sweet-brier betrays its location on the dry
banks and rocky road-sides.

The flowering raspberry, found in moist woods and shady dells, is as
beautiful as the rose, and the buds, if possible, more beautiful than
rose-buds. The flowers are large, of a vivid deep rose-red, and the
leaves maple-shaped, and very graceful.

In June, also, come six or eight species of _Cornus_, or dogwood, each
beautiful in its way. These shrubs, which are generally found in rich
soil in rocky, open woods, are rare in New England, but abundant in the
Middle States. The brilliant little bunchberry, however, which belongs
to the _Cornus_ family, delights in the deep cold woods of Maine, where
it grows luxuriantly, its rich red berries charming the eye in the
depths of the forest.

In the gloom of shady woods, at the roots of pine and oak trees, the
young botanist may perhaps be startled to see an array of little
_ghosts_, as it were, springing from dead leaves, and without one touch
of the green of summer, but waxen-white in every part, leaves, stems,
and all, sometimes having a faint shade of pink or tawny yellow. This is
the Indian-pipe, with none of the healthful honesty of other plants, but
stealing its existence from surrounding neighbors; and with this ghostly
parasite we will close the list for June, not that it is exhausted, for
hundreds stand waiting, but it would take a _book_ to tell of them all.

  FLOWERS OF JUNE.

  COMMON NAME.         COLOR.             LOCALITY, ETC.

  Alpine azalea         Wh., rose-color   White Mts., rocky hills; N. E.
  Alum-root             Greenish-purple   Rocky woodlands; Conn. to Wis.
  Alum-root, downy      Purplish-white    Rich woods; Lancaster, Pa.
  American ipecac       Rose-color        Deep woods; N. Y., Pa., and
                                            West.
  Arrow-wood            White, light
                          blue berries    Wet places. Common North.
  Bell-shaped
    sullivantia         White             Limestone cliffs; Ohio, Wis.
  Bird's-eye primrose   Pale lilac        Shores of Western lakes; Mt.
                                            Kineo, Me.
  Black snakeroot       Greenish-yellow   Copses, open glades. Common.
  Black huckleberry     Reddish, berries
                          black           Woodlands. Common.
  Blue-tangle           White, berries
                          dark blue       Low copses; New England.
  Bunchberry            White flowers,
                          red berries     Damp, cold, deep woods; Me.
  Burning-bush          Dark purple       Shaded woods; N. Y., Pa.,
                                            South.
  Bush honeysuckle      Honey yellow      Rocks and thickets; Northward.
  Buttercups            Yellow            Banks and fields. Common.
  Cassiope              Wh., rose-color   White Mts., Adirondacks, Me.
                                            Rare.
  Chervil               White             Fields and copses; Lancaster,
                                            Pa., N. J.
  Chinquepin, American
    lotus               Pale yellow       Conn., N. J., West. lakes. Rare.
  Clustered
    bell-flower         Deeper blue       Road-sides; Danvers, Mass.
  Coffee-tree           White racemes     River-banks, rich soil; N. Y.,
                                            Pa., West.
  Collinsia             Blue and white    Moist soil; N. Y., Pa., West.
  Common elder          Flowers white,
                          berries black   Banks, rich soil. Common.
  Cornel, panicled      Flowers and
                          berries white   Thickets and river-banks.
  Cornel, red osier     Whitish, berries
                          white           Damp New England pastures.
  Cornel, silky         White, berries
                          pale blue       Wet places. Common.
  Cow-lily              Bright yellow     Still waters. Very common.
  Cranberry-tree        Wh., red berries  Low, damp grounds; N. J.
  Crowberry             White             Mountains; New England.
  Cuckoo-flower         Rose-color, wh.   Bogs, swamps; Vt., N. J.
  Dahoon holly          Yellow-white      Swamps of Virginia.
  Dwarf raspberry       White             Hill-sides; N. E. to Pa.
                                            Common.
  Dwarf wild rose       Deep pink         Dry rocky banks and fields;
                                            N. E.
  Evening primrose      Pale yellow       Sandy fields; N. J. and South.
  False indigo          Violet            River-banks; Pa., South, West.
  Feverwort             B'wnish-purple    Rich woodlands. Common.
  Flowering dogwood     Purplish-white,   Rocky woods; Conn., N. J.,
                          red berries       South.
  Flowering raspberry   Deep red purple   Copses, wooded banks; New Eng.
  Fumitory, climbing    Purplish-white    Wet woods; West.
  Great-spurred violet  Pale violet       Damp shady woods; Mass. Rare.
  Great willow-herb     Pink-purple       Low grounds, burned pastures,
                                            and woods.
  Green violet          Greenish-white    Open woods; N. Y., Pa. Rare.
  Green-weed            Yellow            Dry hills; Mass., Middle
                                            States, W.
  Hedysarum             Violet-purple     Mountains; New England, Me.
  Herb-robert           Red-purple        Shady ravines, wet woods;
                                            N. E.
  High blackberry       White             Woods, pastures, banks.
                                            Common.
  Ilex holly            Greenish          Moist woodlands; sea-coast,
                                            N. J.
  Indian-pipe           Waxy white        Dark shady woods; New England.
  Inkberry              White flowers,
                          berries black   Sandy grounds; Cape Ann.
  Labrador tea          White             Cold bogs and mountain woods;
                                            New England.
  Leather-flower        Purple            Rich woods; N. J., N. Y.,
                                            West.
  Low blackberry        White             Low woods, road-sides. Common.
  Magnolia, sweet-bay   White             Cape Ann, Gloucester and
                                            Manchester woods.
  Marsh five-finger     Purple            Cool bogs; New England to Pa.
  Marsh violet          Pale lilac        White Mts., high lands N. Rare.
  Meadow-sweet          White             Damp soil, banks; N. J., West.
  Mountain laurel       Pink and white    Rocky hills, damp soil. Common.
  Mountain sandwort     White             Mountains; New England.
  Nine-bark             Wh., rose-color   Rocky river-banks; West.
  One-flowered pyrola   White-pink        Deep cold New England woods.
  Pale laurel           Light purple      Cold peat bogs and mountains.
  Partridge-berry       Purple and white,
                          red berries     Dry woods, creeping. Common.
  Persimmon             Pale yellow       Woods and old fields; R. I.,
                                            N. Y.
  Pimpernel             Scarlet, blue,
                          wh.             Waste sandy fields; Mass., N. J.
  Pitcher-plant         Deep purple       Peat-bogs and swamps; New Eng.
  Poison-ivy, climbing  Greenish          Rocky thickets, low grounds.
  Poison sumac          Dull color,
                          very poisonous  Swamps and wet pastures.
  Pond-lily             White, pink       Ponds, pools, and still waters.
                                            Common.
  Prince's-pine         Pale pink         Dry woods. Common.
  Pyrola                Greenish-white    Rich woods; Conn., N. J., N. Y.
  Queen of the prairie  Peach-color       Open meadows; Pa., prairies W.
  Red anemone           Red               Rocky hills; Vt., N. Y. Rare.
  Red elder             Flowers white,
                          berries red     Rocky woods; New England.
  Round-leaved cornus   White, berries    Rich soil, copses; Middle
                          blue            States.
  Roxbury wax-work,
    climbing            Red berries       Thickets; N. E., Middle States.
  Seneca snakeroot      White             Rocky soil; N. E., West, South.
  Sheep-laurel          Crimson           Hill-sides, pastures. Common.
  Shrubby cinque-foil   Yellow            Wet grounds; N. E. Common.
  Silver-weed           Yellow            Brackish marshes and meadows;
                                            New England, West.
  Small cranberry       Rose-color        Peat bogs; N. E., Middle
                                            States.
  Spotted wintergreen   Pink and white    Open woods; Middle States.
  Staghorn sumac        Greenish          Hill-sides, dry banks. Common.
  Strawberry-bush       Greenish-purple   Wooded banks; N. Y., Ill.,
                                            South.
  Sundew                White             Bogs, wet pastures; New Eng.
  Sundrops              Yellow            Open fields; N. J., N. Y., Pa.
  Supple-jack,
    climb'g.            Greenish-white    Damp meadows; Va. and South.
  Swamp-honeysuckle     White-pink        Swamps; New England sea-coast.
  Swamp-rose            Pink              Swamps and pastures. Common.
  Swamp-saxifrage       Greenish          Bogs, wet pastures. Common.
  Sweet-brier           Pale pink         Rocky banks, road-sides; N. E.
  Sweet-cicely          White             Rich moist Northern woods.
  Tall bell-flower      Bright blue       Rich soil; N. Y., N. J., West.
  Three-toothed                           Brunswick, Me., White Mts.,
    cinque-foil         White              Cape Cod. Rare.
  Twin-flower           Pale pink         Moist, mossy woods; Me.,
                                            N. J., N. Y.
  Valerian              Pale pink         Wooded banks; Lancaster, Pa.,
                                            O.
  Wild elder            Greenish-white    Rocky banks, thickets. Common.
  Wild flax             Yellow            Wet, boggy grounds; New
                                            England, West. Rare.
  Wild honeysuckle      Light yellow      Rocky banks; Catskill, Ohio, W.
  Wild licorice         White             Sandy shores; Western N. Y.
  Wild lupine           Purple, blue,
                          pink, white     Sandy open fields; Mass., Conn.
  Wild monk's-hood      Bright blue       Rich shady hills; N. Y., N. J.,
                                            S.
  Wild pea              Purple, white     Dry sandy soil; North and
                                            South.
  Wild red raspberry    White             Thickets, road-sides; N. E.,
                                            South, and West.
  Wild sarsaparilla     White             Moist woods; North and West.
  Wild touch-me-not     Orange, brown     Thickets, shades, beside
                                            streams. Common.
  Wood-sorrel           Violet            Rocky, damp woods; Orange,
                                            N. J., South. Rare.
  Wood-sorrel           White, red veins  Deep cold woods; Mass. to Pa.
  Wood-sorrel           Yellow            Copses and open fields;
                                            everywhere.
  Yellow-wood           Showy white       Rich woods and hills;
                          flowers           Middle States.



[Illustration: SWINGING "BRER RABBIT."-DRAWN BY PALMER COX.]



THE ADVENTURES OF A RAT RACE.

BY JAMES B. MARSHALL.


The carpenters came on a certain Monday morning to make some needed
alterations about Mr. Wilson's stable at the rear of his house yard. And
you know what a noise carpenters will make when working; far more than
enough to disturb the most contented of rats.

Peggy O'Conner, who was moving to and from the kitchen hanging up linen
to dry in the yard, said she saw no rat pass by her; but as a rat was
found in the library, it must have come there by way of the side yard
from the stable.

It was a rather warm summer morning, but with enough of a breeze blowing
to start Uncle Leonard sneezing if he should drop off to sleep while
sitting in a draught. Now, merry Uncle Leonard was asleep in an
easy-chair down in the library, where the two window-sashes were raised
and both doors were open. He had gone there, as usual, to read the
morning paper, but gradually it drooped nearer and nearer the end of his
nose, as usual, until it finally spread itself adroitly over his closed
eyes, to fend off the flies. Then he began to make that soft
steam-enginery sound that most stout gentlemen make when asleep, about
as loud as the purring of "Cattegat," Lou and Amy's cat.

Cattegat always followed Uncle Leonard to the library if possible, to
escape Lou and Amy, who, during their vacation, were trying to teach him
to hold a lump of sugar on the end of his nose while seated on his hind
paws. Cattegat, who liked the sugar but not the trick, had been so named
by a Danish gentleman who had presented him to Lou and Amy.

The rat as it entered the library thought, doubtless, that it was a
pretty comfortable-looking place, or else it wouldn't have gone about
the room smelling and sniffing until it found a piece of sponge-cake,
knocked by the canary from the wires of its cage.

That little breeze went on blowing across Uncle Leonard's head, and
directly he gave a rousing "ashoo!" of a sneeze. Such an
"a-a-sh-sh-shoo," that he actually sneezed himself into a sitting
position. The rat was more startled at such a noise than at all the
carpenters had made, and dropping the cake, peeped from behind an
ottoman where it took refuge.

Cattegat jumped up and looked at Uncle Leonard as if to ask him if he
had made that noise, and then glanced about the room.

"What can ail the cat!" exclaimed Uncle Leonard, as Cattegat went across
the floor in about three springs. Then quickly closing the yard door, he
called, "A rat! a rat!" as the rat ran from behind the ottoman.

Cattegat and the rat raced headlong around the room once, and Uncle
Leonard nearly kicked himself off his feet as the rat slipped unhurt by
him. Then away went the rat out of the library through the other door,
along the hall, and up the front stairs; away tore Cattegat not far
behind it; and quickly in pursuit trotted Uncle Leonard, calling, "Catch
him, Cattegat; catch him, Cattegat!"

At the moment, Lou, a very handy boy about the house, was in a
second-story room near the head of the stairs, and had just finished
gluing in the leg of Amy's rocking-chair. He had taken the chair there
to mend, because the floor was not carpeted, but smoothly varnished, and
any glue dropped could be easily removed. Amy stood watching him as she
slowly untied a package of prepared chalk for the teeth, with which she
had shortly before returned from the drug store.

"Gracious! what's coming up stairs?" said Lou, placing the glue brush on
the chair beside the glue-pot, and stepping to the door.

"Look out for the rat!" shouted Uncle Leonard.

Amy instantly sprang on the first object at hand, her just-mended
rocking-chair, which gave way, of course, and over she went. However,
she broke her fall by catching at the chair holding the glue-pot and
brush, though the glue rolled to the right and the brush to the left.
The package of prepared chalk, that had received an upward pitch as Amy
had toppled over, then came down in time to plentifully powder both her
and Lou.

The latter had turned to clear the way for the rat and Cattegat, not
more than an instant later than Amy had taken alarm, but the glue had
been spilled more quickly. And though Lou jumped over the pool of glue
safely, he landed right under the shower of chalk, and directly upon the
slippery glue brush. Presto! down went Lou, and shooting over the smooth
floor, vanished under the bed at the far end of the room, as though he
had been a clown playing in a pantomime.

Amy, so filled with laughter, could scarce manage to climb on the sound
chair before the rat and Cattegat came whizzing through the doorway;
both leaped clear of the spilled glue, and scampered in a flash across
the floor into the next room, and so on through several other rooms that
communicated.

"Oho! bravo, Cattegat!" said Uncle Leonard, as he came on, running at a
wonderful rate for him. Right through the doorway he ran, but on seeing
Amy, he was about to lessen his speed, and have her join in the chase,
when he stepped in the pool of glue. Slip, slip, slide across the room,
went Uncle Leonard, with his feet getting farther apart, as though the
floor was the slipperiest of ice. He slid to and against a wash-stand,
and then sank down slowly and gracefully at its foot in a way that would
have done credit to a champion gymnast. But he shook the stand so
violently that the water-pitcher was shaken over within its basin, and
emptied half its contents upon his head.

Amy rushed to his aid, righted the pitcher, and inquired if he was hurt.

"Not a bit," said Uncle Leonard, getting again on his feet, smiling
mirthfully at his own dripping coat, and giving one of those jolly
laughs of his at Amy's chalk-powdered head. "Come along, my dear,"
continued he; "keep the chase up, or the rat will yet have the best of
it. But where's Lou?"

"Here I am!" answered Lou, poking his laughing, powdered face from under
the bed, and crawling out. And away they all followed the chase, Uncle
Leonard kicking off his gluey slippers, and catching up a pair of Papa
Wilson's.

Cattegat and the rat in the mean time had been racing up and down the
front bedrooms, frightening Mamma Wilson and Aunt Laura into climbing up
on one of the beds, and Cattegat had distinguished himself by knocking
over a sewing basket and a screen. As the pursuers appeared upon the
scene, rat and cat ran out into the hallway again, through a door that
Aunt Laura had opened, hoping to get clear of them.

Then pat, pat, pat, again in chase went Lou and Amy's shoes; flap, flap,
flap, followed Uncle Leonard's slippers; and Mamma Wilson and Aunt Laura
brought up the rear with an irregular run and walk. Right through the
length of the whole second story, through the hallway, and from room to
room they rushed, with such a clatter and whoop as had never before been
heard in that house, merry as were its people.

Cattegat will now surely catch that ferocious rat in the last room,
thought every one. But no; straight down the back stairs plunged the
rat, and jump, jump, followed Cattegat, still several feet behind it.
And at the bottom of the stairway, closed by a door, the race would have
been doubtlessly won by Cattegat, but Peggy O'Conner, hearing such an
unusual commotion overhead, came to the door to inquire its cause. As
Peggy opened the door she heard several voices call: "Don't open that
door; Cattegat's after a rat."

Bang! went the door--closed quickly, I assure you; but something flew
past Peggy, and she only shut the door in Cattegat's face.

As that something, very much like a rat, flew past Peggy, and vanished
out of the kitchen, a piece of soap that Katie, the other girl, threw
with a very bad aim, went flying after it. But frightened Peggy, in
dismay, raised her hands, backed awkwardly against a tub of blue water
on the floor, and before she could recover her balance, splashed down
into the water, which flew about like the spray of a great fountain.

As the whole party filed down the back stairs, Katie was trying amidst
her merriment to help wringing-wet Peggy out of her queer bath, and all
but Cattegat had something to laugh at.

Cattegat seemed very much disappointed because the rat had escaped, and
went out in the yard, and hid himself under a rose-bush.

As for the rat, Lou is pretty certain that he sees it occasionally
capering about the stable, very much unlike a common rat that has never
had an adventure.



[Illustration]

THE MORNING MESSAGE.

BY K. M. M.


  A beam was sent out by the morning sun
  To carry the message that day had begun.

  First the gay courier told his story
  To the opening buds of the morning-glory.

  The birds in their nest on the branch o'erhead
  Heard every word that the sunbeam said,

  And all at once in the trees was heard
  The twittered "good-morning" of each little bird.

  Then in at the window the messenger flew,
  And all around him his gold he threw.

  He scattered it here, and everywhere,
  He gilded the braids of the mother's hair.

  He glanced at the baby, who laughed with glee,
  And danced for joy on his mother's knee.

  And little Clara, the three-year-old,
  Tried to catch at the shining gold;

  And she said, "Mamma, if I'm good to-day,
  Perhaps this beautiful sunbeam will stay."



[Illustration: OUR POST-OFFICE BOX.]


  BROOKLYN, NEW YORK.

     About a month ago my papa came home from Panama, and brought me
     two beautiful little birds for pets. I do not know any English
     name for them, but in Spanish they are called _Verdones del
     Pacifico_. They are about the size of a canary. Their bodies are
     beautiful dark blue, the wings and back are glossy black with a
     blue stripe, and the top of the head irised green. The under side
     of the wings is golden yellow. They have little bright black eyes,
     long bills like a humming-bird, and dainty little red legs and
     toes. They feed on bananas, and eat all day long. They are very
     queer little gymnasts, and hang head downward from their perch to
     reach their food. They do not sing, but the moment daylight begins
     they commence a sweet little peeping, which they keep up from
     morning till night.

     We did not know they would eat insects; but one afternoon a big
     fly came buzzing round their cage, and they fluttered and peeped
     and pushed their bills through the wires in their efforts to catch
     it. My brother caught it and gave it to them in his fingers. They
     both dived for it, and had a fight to see which should get the
     biggest half. Since then we catch flies for them all the time, and
     whenever any one goes near their cage they begin to peep and
     watch, hoping for a fly.

     Sometimes we shut the windows and let them fly around the room and
     hunt for themselves. They dart like lightning, and not a fly
     escapes them. They are growing very tame, and will come and perch
     upon my finger when they are tired flying.

     I wonder if any other little boy or girl has any _Verdones_? Their
     home is in the forests along the tropical Pacific coast. They
     build a nest similar to that of the humming-bird, and are
     considered members of the same family, although they do not hover
     over their food like the humming-bird.

  CARRIE R.

       *       *       *       *       *

  FORT ONTARIO, OSWEGO, NEW YORK.

     My father is a lieutenant in the Second Artillery. We have been in
     Oswego seventeen months. The fort is on the lake, and a very old
     fort it is. The scarf wall facing Lake Ontario has never been
     finished. In the fort grave-yard are some very old graves. There
     is one of George Fykes, a Revolutionary soldier, who died in 1776.

     This is a very pleasant post. In summer there is plenty of boating
     and fishing. I went fishing the other day, but did not have very
     good luck. There were a great many wrecks on the lake last fall.

     I have one little brother four months old. When he gets old enough
     I will write a letter for him too. I like YOUNG PEOPLE very much.
     I am ten years old.

  HOWARD M.

       *       *       *       *       *

  TABLE ROCK, NEBRASKA.

     I like YOUNG PEOPLE ever so much. I have no pets except my little
     baby brother, but there are lots of birds' nests in our orchard.
     One day when we were in the orchard we saw a big nest with rags
     woven in it, and I spied a corner of an embroidered handkerchief
     that was given me a year ago last Christmas. Papa was up in the
     tree, and he pulled it out and threw it down to me. I think it was
     a blackbird's nest. The eggs were green, with dark brown spots on
     them.

  GERTIE B.

       *       *       *       *       *

  BROOKLINE, MASSACHUSETTS.

     Here is a game that I invented. I have played it very often, and
     it is very good fun. Two boys stand opposite each other, about ten
     feet apart. Each boy has a ball--rubber ones are best, as they
     will bounce. The balls must be thrown from one boy to the other,
     both at the same time. When they hit in the air--which they do
     oftener than you would think--each boy tries to catch one on the
     first bounce or fly. Each ball so captured counts one. Whoever
     gets ten first beats.

     I have some tracing paper and a lithogram which papa gave me, and
     I have a great deal of fun tracing pictures and copying them on
     the lithogram.

  WILLY A.

       *       *       *       *       *

  BEREA, KENTUCKY.

     I have a pair of canaries. The singer I have named Sankey; the
     other is Jenny. When I put mamma's mirror in the cage, Sankey will
     look at himself and sing beautifully, and then he will peep behind
     the mirror to see if any other bird is there. I am ten years old.

  JULIA B. H.

       *       *       *       *       *

  HOBOKEN, NEW JERSEY.

     I thought you would like to hear about our kitty. At night when we
     go to bed he climbs over two sheds and a grape arbor up to mamma's
     window, and shakes the shutter until mamma gets up and lets him
     in. Then he goes down and waits at the front door till papa comes
     in. Then he follows papa down stairs, and papa gives him something
     to eat, and shuts him up in the kitchen. In the morning he runs
     out in the yard and plays around until breakfast-time, when he
     comes in and goes right to papa's place at the table. He puts his
     fore-paws upon the table, and claws papa's arm until he gets a
     piece of meat, or bread, which he likes best.

     Here is a recipe for Puss Hunter and her club. I call it
     jaw-breaker candy. It is a little different from Nellie H.'s
     recipe. One cup of brown sugar; half a cup of vinegar; a piece of
     butter the size of a hickory-nut. When I think it is boiled
     enough, I drop a little into a glass of cold water, and if it
     hardens, it is done, and I pour it into a buttered dish to cool.

  REBECCA H.

       *       *       *       *       *

  CAMDEN, ALABAMA.

     I am a subscriber to YOUNG PEOPLE, and this is the first letter I
     have written for "Our Post-office Box." I had a large doll given
     me last Christmas, and I have named her Fannie Sue. She has a
     pretty little red trunk full of clothes, and a black satin hat
     with red flowers on it. My papa got me a donkey a few weeks ago,
     and when I learn to ride nicely he is going to give me a horse.

  KATE C.

       *       *       *       *       *

  CHAMPAIGN, ILLINOIS.

     I thought the boys and girls would like to hear about my auntie's
     pets. She has four big birds and four baby birds. One of the baby
     birds got out of its nest this morning, and hopped about the cage.
     Another bird is sitting on five eggs. Then we have four cats and
     four kittens, and a great big Newfoundland dog. I am eight years
     old. I live in Indianapolis, but I am visiting auntie now.

  FRED D. S.

       *       *       *       *       *

  NEWARK, NEW JERSEY.

     I write to tell you of my success with the tarantula in YOUNG
     PEOPLE No. 29. I had to work hard to get the body cut out nicely,
     but at last it was done. A little girl showed it to her father,
     and he thought it was a big live spider, and gave it a knock which
     sent three of its legs flying, but I soon mended it.

  EDDIE W. H.

       *       *       *       *       *

  DEEP RIVER, CONNECTICUT, _May 19, 1880_.

     My sister subscribed for YOUNG PEOPLE for my Christmas present. I
     learned the song "I am the Lad in the Blue and White," and now I
     am learning "I am the Lad in the Cadet Gray."

     I caught two baby trout out of a brook with a cup, but papa told
     me to put them back in the water, so I did. There are lots of
     violets here now, and our rose-bushes are budded. For the last two
     weeks the air has been very sweet with apple blossoms. I was
     eleven years old yesterday.

  EDITH P.

       *       *       *       *       *

  PINE RIVER, COLORADO.

     I live in Southwest Colorado, close to the Ute Indian Reservation.
     My papa has a store, and the Indians often come to trade. These
     Utes are not bad, like the Utes who killed Mr. Meeker. We had six
     wild geese, but a bad dog killed one of them. Some time I will
     write more about the Indians here.

  HATTIE J.

       *       *       *       *       *

  BONANZA, IDAHO.

     I like to read all the letters from the children in YOUNG PEOPLE,
     and I thought I would tell about my puppies. They bark if any one
     comes in the room. One catches another by the tail and growls, and
     the other jumps around and barks. There are three of them. Their
     mother is sick, and coughs up blood. I wish some boy could tell me
     what to do for her.

     The snow is eighteen inches deep here yet (May 8), but it has been
     over six feet deep here this winter.

  F. M. G.

       *       *       *       *       *

  MILLS CITY, MONTANA.

     I am always glad when YOUNG PEOPLE comes. I like all the stories
     very much. We have two buffaloes, ten cows, a little calf, two
     horses, and a little colt; and I have two cats, a dog named Rose,
     and some chickens of my own. We have beautiful house plants, and
     flowers growing in the garden in summer. I have two sisters and a
     brother. My oldest sister is at school in Bismarck. I am eleven
     years old.

  LAURA B.

       *       *       *       *       *

  BROOKLYN, NEW YORK.

     I have a pet guinea-pig, which came across the ocean with me. It
     is pure white. I have made a house for it to live in during the
     summer. I visited Paris, and saw the last Exposition. It was not
     as large as ours, but it was very fine. I have a very nice
     collection of stamps and coins. My oldest coin, a Moorish one, is
     dated 1270. I have another dated 1275. Both the coins were given
     to me by Captain Boyton. Is it true that he was killed? I would
     like to know.

  CHARLES L. S.

Captain Boyton is not dead, but is in good health, and on the occasion
of a recent boat-race at Washington was floating about in his famous
life-saving costume.

       *       *       *       *       *

  PHILADELPHIA, PENNSYLVANIA.

     I have copied all the recipes, and we have a nice cook that lets
     me try them, and helps me, too. She makes the crust for me, and I
     make the inside for an awful good lemon pie. Here is the recipe,
     and I wish Puss Hunter and the girls would try it and say what
     they think of it. Take one tea-cup of white sugar; one
     table-spoonful of butter; one egg; one large lemon; one tea-cup of
     boiling water; one table-spoonful of corn starch. Mix the butter
     and sugar in a bowl; then put the boiling water over the fire, and
     stir the corn starch (which you must first wet in a little cold
     water) into it till it thickens. Now pour it over the butter and
     sugar, and set it away to cool. When it is cold, add the juice and
     grated peel of the lemon (carefully removing the seeds) and the
     beaten egg. Bake it without any top crust. Three times all this
     makes two nice pies for big people, our cook says.

     YOUNG PEOPLE is--oh, too good for anything. When I grow older, I
     am going to take a dozen copies for poor little boys and girls
     whose papa and mamma can not take it for them, as mine do for me.

  HELEN.

       *       *       *       *       *

  U. S. NAVAL ACADEMY, ANNAPOLIS, MARYLAND.

     This is a lovely place to live in. Every morning and afternoon the
     band plays in the Naval Academy grounds, and almost every
     afternoon we play croquet until the band stops. The music always
     begins with "The Star-spangled Banner," and ends with "Hail,
     Columbia."

  LIZZIE C. F.

       *       *       *       *       *

  DANVILLE, ILLINOIS.

     I thank you, dear contributors, for the recipes you have already
     sent me, and I would like some more, especially a good recipe for
     bread.

     I would like to know the name of this little flower. It was given
     to me, and I think it was found growing in the water.

  PUSS HUNTER.

Your flower is a cowslip, which grows in wet meadows, and is one of the
earliest blossoms of spring.

       *       *       *       *       *

  PHILADELPHIA, PENNSYLVANIA.

     I am twelve years old, and I am very fond of flowers, and take
     great delight in hunting for them. There is a flower which grows
     in the woods and open fields here, called the "Star of Bethlehem."
     The blossom is a little white five-pointed star, and it blooms in
     great quantities in the month of May. If "Genevieve," of
     California, sends her address, I shall like to exchange pressed
     flowers with her.

  BERTHA S.

       *       *       *       *       *

     I would be pleased to exchange pressed leaves with Mary Wright, of
     Kansas, if she will wait until fall, as I always have a very nice
     collection of autumn leaves. I would also like to exchange pressed
     ferns with some little girl in the fall. I think HARPER'S YOUNG
     PEOPLE is a splendid paper.

  EMMA FOLTZ,
  Chambersburg, Pennsylvania.

       *       *       *       *       *

  QUITMAN, GEORGIA.

     I am a little Southern girl, eight years old to-day. Grandpa gave
     me a gold ring, and papa gave me a beautiful doll. Oranges,
     bananas, and sugar-cane grow here, and we have flowers and
     mocking-birds all winter. Please tell me what willow "pussies"
     are.

  INDIA T.

If you look in the Post-office Box of No. 25 you will find a description
of willow "pussies," given in answer to questions from other young
correspondents in the far South.

       *       *       *       *       *

JULIAN G.--The first volume of HARPER'S YOUNG PEOPLE will be finished
with the fifty-second number, issued the last Tuesday in October, 1880.

       *       *       *       *       *

S. G. SMITH.--"Tumble home" indicates curving in toward the top;
"tumbling in aft," curving under.

       *       *       *       *       *

H. T. M.--The characters you inquire about are not letters, but signs
understood only by the members of a certain society.

       *       *       *       *       *

  NEW YORK CITY.

     Could you tell me the origin of the name "Forget-me-not" as
     applied to flowers? I have heard there is some historical legend
     or story concerning it. I should be very glad if any of the
     readers of YOUNG PEOPLE could inform me where such a legend is to
     be found.

  A CONSTANT READER.

There are many graceful, poetic stories told by poets and romancers,
especially by German authors, concerning the origin of the name
"Forget-me-not," but it is unlikely that any one of them has a
historical foundation. We leave the subject open for our youthful
correspondents to discuss.

       *       *       *       *       *

"TOUT OU RIEN."--To send us your name and address once is sufficient.

       *       *       *       *       *

CHARLES F. R.--If you send forty-eight cents in clean postage stamps,
the papers you require will be forwarded to you.

       *       *       *       *       *

NINA.--The wife of an Earl has the title of Countess. There is nothing
to be said of the Countess of Rosebery beyond what you read of her in
HARPER'S BAZAR. She is a very estimable and charitable lady, and
universally respected.

       *       *       *       *       *

RICHARD S. C.--The best thing for you to do is to visit some
establishment where the article you require is for sale. There are so
many kinds and so many sizes of bicycles that it is impossible for us to
give you any idea of prices.

       *       *       *       *       *

PUZZLES FROM YOUNG CONTRIBUTORS.

No. 1.

ENIGMA.

  My first in fortune, not in luck.
  My second in canvas, not in duck.
  My third in squadron, not in fleet.
  My fourth in conquer, not in beat.
  My fifth in battle, not in wreck.
  My sixth in rigging, not in deck.
  My seventh in union, not in flag.
  My eighth in steadfast, not in brag.
  All these letters will show to you
  An officer gallant, tender, and true.

  MARY D.

       *       *       *       *       *

No. 2.

DROP-LETTER PUZZLE.

A familiar proverb:

--e--t--r--a--e--h--n--e--e--.

  C. K. S.

       *       *       *       *       *

No. 3.

WORD CHANGES.

[Taking two words of an equal number of letters, the change must be made
by altering one letter at a time, thus forming a new word, which must be
an English proper name, or a word given in an English dictionary. In
altering a letter, its position in the word must not be changed. Any
answers making the change correctly will be credited, although the
intermediate words may vary from the solution sent with the puzzle. Here
is an example changing Tom to Sam: Tom, T_i_m, _r_im, ri_p_, r_a_p,
ra_t_, _s_at, Sa_m_.]

1. Love to hate. 2. Vest to coat. 3. Cent to dime. 4. Head to foot.
5. Bear to stag. 6. Hard to soft. 7. Storm to quiet.

  C. P. T.

       *       *       *       *       *

No. 4.

ENIGMA.

  My first is in schooner, not in ship.
  My second is in beat, but not in whip.
  My third is in bran, but not in meal.
  My fourth is in cure, but not in heal.
  My fifth is in pie, but not in cake.
  My sixth is in shovel, but not in rake.
  My seventh is in sick, but not in well.
  My eighth is in tongue, but not in bell.
  My ninth is in castle, but not in tower.
  My whole is a fragrant, beautiful flower.

  BELLE H.

       *       *       *       *       *

No. 5.

NUMERICAL CHARADE.

  My whole is a strait composed of 11 letters.
  My 11, 7, 1, 4, 5 is a celebrated tower.
  My 3, 10, 9 is useful at night.
  My 6, 2, 8 is a member of the human family.

  ADA.

       *       *       *       *       *

No. 6.

DIAMOND PUZZLE.

In artist. A Spanish hero. A ferocious beast. A cavern. In artist.

  M. V.

       *       *       *       *       *

ANSWERS TO PUZZLES IN NO. 29.

No. 1.

1. Troy, Galveston. 2. Ithaca, Trenton. 3. Mobile, Lima. 4. Utica,
Macon. 5. Salem, Alton.

No. 2.

Macbeth.

No. 3.

  O R G A N
  R O L L A
  G L O O M
  A L O N E
  N A M E S

No. 4.

The nineteenth century.

Ho. 5.

      W
    W A R
  W A L E S
    R E D
      S

No. 6.

  N  anki  N
  A labam  A
  P  eki   N
  L ockpor T
  E  urop  E
  S  amo   S

Naples, Nantes.

       *       *       *       *       *

"Aunt Flora's Answer," a broken rhyme, on page 408:

  Start, tart, art.
  Skill, kill, ill.
  Blend, lend, end.
  Smothers, mothers, others.

       *       *       *       *       *

Answer to "Throwing Light," on page 408.--Cruise, crews.

       *       *       *       *       *

Correct answers to puzzles are received from Grace N. Whiting, Dollie
Murdoch, Clarence Howard, W. L. Naldrett, "Tout on rien," A. H. Ellard,
"Fatinitza," Alice and Mamie Grady, H. Starr Kealhofer, John B.
Whitlock, Robie D. Caldwell, Howard Rathbone, Harry E. Furber.

       *       *       *       *       *

Favors are acknowledged from W. Holloway, Nelly, Willie H. D., J. F. K.,
Edith Bidwell, Lizzie B., J. W. Riley, Charles H. Bamford.



ADVERTISEMENTS.



HARPER'S YOUNG PEOPLE.

HARPER'S YOUNG PEOPLE will be issued every Tuesday, and may be had at
the following rates--_payable in advance, postage free_:

  SINGLE COPIES                     $0.04
  ONE SUBSCRIPTION, _one year_       1.50
  FIVE SUBSCRIPTIONS, _one year_     7.00

Subscriptions may begin with any Number. When no time is specified, it
will be understood that the subscriber desires to commence with the
Number issued after the receipt of order.

Remittances should be made by POST-OFFICE MONEY ORDER or DRAFT, to avoid
risk of loss.

ADVERTISING.

The extent and character of the circulation of HARPER'S YOUNG PEOPLE
will render it a first-class medium for advertising. A limited number of
approved advertisements will be inserted on two inside pages at 75 cents
per line.

  Address
  HARPER & BROTHERS,
  Franklin Square, N. Y.



FISHING OUTFITS.

CATALOGUE FREE.

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



The Child's Book of Nature.

       *       *       *       *       *

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

       *       *       *       *       *

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

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

       *       *       *       *       *

Published by HARPER & BROTHERS, New York.

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



OUR CHILDREN'S SONGS

       *       *       *       *       *

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

       *       *       *       *       *

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

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

       *       *       *       *       *

Published by HARPER & BROTHERS, New York.

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



CHILDREN'S

PICTURE-BOOKS.

    Square 4to, about 800 pages each, beautifully printed on Tinted
    Paper, embellished with many Illustrations, bound in Cloth, $1.50
    per volume.

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

     With Sixty Illustrations by HARRISON WEIR.

The Children's Bible Picture-Book.

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

The Children's Picture Fable-Book.

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

The Children's Picture-Book of Birds.

     With Sixty-one Illustrations by W. HARVEY.

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

     With Sixty-one Illustrations by W. HARVEY.

       *       *       *       *       *

Published by HARPER & BROTHERS, New York.

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



Old Books for Young Readers.

       *       *       *       *       *

Arabian Nights' Entertainments.

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

Robinson Crusoe.

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

The Swiss Family Robinson.

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

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

Sandford and Merton.

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

       *       *       *       *       *

Published by HARPER & BROTHERS, New York.

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



[Illustration: ANSWERS TO WIGGLE No. 11, OUR ARTIST'S IDEA, AND NEW
WIGGLE No. 12.]

INSTRUCTIONS TO WIGGLE CONTRIBUTORS.


Write your name very distinctly on each Wiggle.

Be careful to follow the Wiggle accurately. The best way is to trace the
Wiggle on thin writing-paper.

Do not make your Wiggle too large.

Do not cross the line of the Wiggle in your design.

We can only print a certain number of Wiggles sent us, and many
excellent ones are not published for various reasons independent of
their merit. Contributors must not, therefore, feel disappointed, or
think we do not consider their Wiggles good, simply because they do not
happen to be published.

Send in your answers as early as possible.

The following list contains the names of those who sent in answers to
Wiggle No. 11 in time to have them published. New Wiggle No. 12 is an
easy one. Now let us see how many will catch the artist's idea.

Fannie Hartwell, J. May Allen, J. S. Summons, Everett C. Fay, Campbell
T. Hamilton, Violet, J. Bonny, J. B. Whitlock, Eddie A. Leet, Fannie M.,
Mary E. Hartwell, Harry Bartlett, Frank Graves, J. O. K., Lilly Kuhs,
Charlie Kuhs, R. P. Stout, Ada B. Vouté, Harry Meekes, Eddie W. Hammer,
L. C. F., Mary A. Hale, Fred. Clinch, Jun., Jane H. B. Reid, Marvin
Bust, C. H. Muhlenbey, Old Boy, John H. Bartlett, Jun., G. A. Page, John
R. Blake, Tracy Lyon, C. L. M., J. Gresham, Nelson B. Greene, Polly,
J. W. Phelps, Fred. Renner, May A. Lobell, E. J. B., H. H. G., Willie
Raymond, Howard Starrett, C. J. Hamilton, E. L. Burchard, C. E. A. B.,
Ernest Machado, Mab, Sera Wilbee, S. H. C. or C. H. S., T. M. L., George
Wilson Beatty, J. K., Willie H. Dorrance, Gracie Norton, Nettie Norton,
L. H. Scott, Ferdinand von Olker, Ruth G. D. Havens, Stuart P. Shears,
Willie B. Gordon, Percy H. Sloan, Allie M. Voorhees, G. C. Meyer, P.
Aquilar, George McClelland, Three Groves, Nebraska; A. T. Jones,
B. E. S., A. H. W., Alexis Sheiver, Katie L. Huekaus, S. S. Norton,
W. T. Sears, Charles E. Simonson, W. Culter, Q. Z., R. Starrett,
W. H. W., S. H. A., Susie Armstrong, C. P. S., May Sowans, C. L. M.,
A. W., Flora Tucker, S. Abbott, B. D. W.; W. B. Kirk, F. B. Ham, Louie
A. Garrison, Darragh de Lancy, W. D. S., Louise D. Blake, F. N. Snyder,
May W. Ensign, Norman Warner, Lottie Noble, Arabella, S. N. Phelps, Mary
L. McVean, B. L., A. C. Jaquith, Rose W. Scott, Florence G. Thatcher,
Laura B. Scott, Frank Rogers, Sam H. Manning, H. E. Stout, H., Soledad,
Theo, Dollie W. Kopp, Dollie Murdock, Theodore M. Kimball, Jeannie K.
Perkins, Lizzie Burt, H. B. E., K. M., Evan G., Howard Rathbone, Burton
Harwood, A. L. M., Ella, Sousy, Stella, Edna, Geraldine Dillon Lee,
A. K., Fatinitza, Gertie M. Boone, Emma R. Bullock, Katrina Tancré,
Maggie Archibald, Achison, Kate Armstrong, Sarah, Bertha, Toonie, S. S.
Wiggle Club; Henry M. Alexander, Jun., Dot Alexander, Bessie Alexander,
Whisker Alexander, S. and C. McLaren, J. R. Glen, D. V. V., Edith
Bidwell, W. M. Bloss.





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