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Title: Harper's Young People, November 9, 1880 - An Illustrated Monthly
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, November 9, 1880 - An Illustrated Monthly" ***

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[Illustration: HARPER'S YOUNG PEOPLE

AN ILLUSTRATED WEEKLY.]

       *       *       *       *       *

VOL. II.--NO. 54. PUBLISHED BY HARPER & BROTHERS, NEW YORK. PRICE FOUR
CENTS.

Tuesday, November 9, 1880. Copyright, 1880, by HARPER & BROTHERS. $1.50
per Year, in Advance.

       *       *       *       *       *



[Illustration: A WORK OF ART.--DRAWN BY JESSIE CURTIS.]



JACK-O'-LANTERN.

BY MARY E. FOLSOM.


  Who is this nabob come to town,
    After a long vacation?
  He seems to have a host of friends,
    And makes a great sensation.
  He stalks about these frosty nights,
    While troops of boys run after
  To welcome him with merry jests
    And ringing shouts of laughter.
          'Tis Mr. Jack-o'-Lantern.

  He towers above the noisy group
    As though he were a grandee,
  And struts about upon his stilts
    As agile as a dandy.
  You might think him an Eastern prince,
    Because his skin's so yellow;
  But spite of all his airs, he is
    A common sort of fellow,
          This Mr. Jack-o'-Lantern.

  All summer long upon the ground
    He lay forlorn, dejected;
  No one in all the country round
    Was quite so much neglected.
  But see him now! with head aloft,
    He shines with regal splendor,
  And loyal subjects by the score
    Admiring homage render.
          How proud is Jack-o'-Lantern!

  Now give three cheers for Jack, my lads--
    Three rousing cheers, and hearty;
  For is he not the brightest one
    In all your jolly party?
  And though his is an empty head,
    He can with satisfaction
  Amuse a crowd, and make himself
    The centre of attraction.
          Hurrah for Jack-o'-Lantern!



[Begun in HARPER'S YOUNG PEOPLE No. 53, November 2.]

THE BOY-GENERAL.

BY EDWARD CARY.

CHAPTER II.


It was shortly after his reaching Philadelphia that Lafayette met
Washington for the first time. "Though surrounded by officers and
citizens," writes the young Frenchman, "his majestic face and form could
not be mistaken, while his kind and noble manners were not less
unmistakable." The veteran commander and the boyish lover of liberty and
adventure were instantly drawn to each other. Washington invited
Lafayette to join him at a review of the American army--"eleven thousand
men, only fairly armed, and worse clothed, their best clothing the gray
hunting shirts of the Carolinas." "We can not but feel a little
abashed," remarked Washington, "in the presence of an officer who comes
to us from the army of France."

"It is to learn, not to teach, that I am here," was the modest reply.
"This way of talking," adds Lafayette, "made a good impression, for it
was not common among the Europeans."

On the 11th of September, 1777, Lafayette saw his first battle. The
English had landed at the Capes of the Delaware, and marched on
Philadelphia. Washington was deceived by bad scouts, and before he knew
it the British had got past his army; and though the Americans fought
bravely, they were obliged to give way. In trying to rally them,
Lafayette was badly wounded by a musket-ball in the leg. For some time,
in his zeal, he did not notice the wound, until an aide-de-camp saw the
blood, which had filled his boot, and was running over the top. Hastily
dismounting to have the wound bandaged, Lafayette instantly took to his
saddle again; and it was only at midnight, a dozen miles from the
battle-field, and when a stand had at last been made, that he consented
to give up and be properly cared for. For six weeks he was kept in bed;
and it was not until the latter part of November that he again entered
active service, which he did before his wound was fully healed. On the
25th of that month, at the head of three hundred and fifty men, he was
making a "reconnoissance," _i. e._, trying to find where the enemy were,
and how many there were of them, when he suddenly came upon the British
advance guard, strongly placed, with cannon. With a daring joined with
prudence which was very rare in one so young, he attacked the enemy with
such spirit that they thought he must have a large force with him, and
retreated. Lafayette, who knew he might soon be surrounded with his
little band, withdrew rapidly to a place of safety. "My experiment would
have cost me dear," he writes, "if those who might have destroyed me had
not counted too much on those who ought to have captured me." The
British General was Lord Cornwallis, who then took the first of many
lessons which Lafayette, "the boy," as he called him, was to teach him
in the art of war.

This little fight had quite important results. It gave Washington time
to get his army safely back into the country, and to take up quarters
for the winter at Valley Forge. Congress was greatly pleased, and passed
a vote asking Washington to give Lafayette command of a division, which
was done. Scarcely turned twenty, the young soldier found himself at the
head of a body of picked men, mostly Virginians, whom he tried hard to
make the flower of the army in activity, discipline, and courage. He
shared all the hardships and miseries of the terrible winter at Valley
Forge, where the army underwent untold sufferings. From 18,000 men it
was reduced to 5000.

The British lay well housed and idle in Philadelphia. There was no
fighting going on, and the country simply forgot and neglected its
gallant soldiers. These were camped in a wooded hollow among the hills,
and during that winter deeper snow than had been seen for many years
buried the country.

Lafayette writes that "in his night visits about the camp" he found the
sentinels with bare feet frozen at their posts, and men without coats,
often without shirts, huddled on beds of branches about the camp fires,
unable, from hunger and cold, to sleep. For days together one scant meal
a man was all that could be had. In the midst of such suffering the
noble boy lived as his men did, fasting as they fasted, and denying
himself everything. "Ill at ease" as he had been "among the pleasures of
a Paris festival," he was at home on that cold hill-side, and attracted
universal admiration by his simple self-denial, his cheerful and
constant devotion.

Meanwhile Congress was divided into two quarrelsome parties; and while
it had not time to attend to Washington's earnest prayers for relief for
his starving army, it found plenty of time to plan to put another
General over his head, and to try to carry on the war without him. To
aid in this mad scheme they sought to win Lafayette by offering him a
separate command of an army that was to march into Canada.

Faithful in his duty to his commander and his friends, Lafayette refused
to take the place unless he could receive all his orders direct from
Washington. This could not be refused, but it cooled the zeal of
Congress, and when Lafayette arrived at Albany, where he was to have
found men and means for the invasion of Canada, he found neither one nor
the other. Seeing that it was too late to wait long for them, he
promptly gave up the plan. He took a long journey northward to try to
make friends with the Indians, whom he managed with great skill, and
then came back to camp with Washington. He was very glad to rejoin his
beloved General, who immediately gave him command of his old division,
and sent him out, as he had done in the fall, to get news of the enemy.

Clinton, the English commander, learned of the movement, and resolved to
capture the daring "youngster." Lafayette had only 2000 men and no
cannon; Clinton sent out 7000 with fourteen cannon after him. Some
militia placed to guard a road that led around Lafayette's little army
fled when the enemy came up, and before he knew it Lafayette was
surrounded. Clinton, delighted with the prospect, sent an invitation to
his lady friends in Philadelphia to meet Lafayette at supper that
evening, so sure was he of capturing him; and the Admiral of the fleet
was directed to set apart a vessel to take the prisoner to England. But
they were reckoning without their host. Lafayette never lost his cool
head for a moment. Arranging his men in the woods so as to make them
seem many more than they were, he marched with such order that the
English were deceived, and feared to attack him, and while they
hesitated he got his men out of the trap into which they had fallen, and
returned to the main camp.

Before the winter-quarters were broken up, and the fighting for the
summer of 1778 began, Lafayette had the great joy of announcing to the
American army that the King of France was going to send a fleet and an
army to aid the United States. Then, for the first time, he felt sure of
final victory. He was immensely pleased to think that he was going to be
able to fight side by side with his own countrymen on American soil for
American liberty. It was largely his own wisdom and zeal that had
brought about this result, for young as he was, he already showed
himself a far-sighted statesman, as well as a brave, skillful, and
prudent soldier.

Although he had been less than a year in the country, he had endeared
himself to all hearts, and had especially won the entire confidence of
General Washington.

[TO BE CONTINUED.]



STAMP COLLECTING.

BY J. J. CASEY.


I have no doubt that many of the readers of YOUNG PEOPLE are stamp
collectors, and that many more are ready to become stamp collectors if
they are started properly. Little difficulty is experienced at the
present day in getting a good assortment of stamps, because the great
spread of the postal system, and the resulting increase of
correspondence, bring the stamps of every foreign country into the
business houses of New York. But the main difficulty is so to manage
with the stamps as to make them more than a plaything for a few
weeks--to make them really instructive, and their possessors real
Philatelists.

The materials requisite for the beginner are very few--a blank book,
some sheets of very thin writing-paper, and a small bottle of pure
gum-arabic dissolved in water and made thin. Of course, when the
collection increases and begins to assume form, this blank book must
give way to a special album; but in the beginning a small book, worth,
say, four or five cents, will suffice. Thus provided, you are ready to
begin your collection.

[Illustration: FIG. 1.]

[Illustration: FIG. 2.]

Every reader of YOUNG PEOPLE has friends who have a correspondence more
or less extensive, and whose desks are, therefore, store-houses of
postage stamps. Requests for these stamps will seldom be denied, and in
a very little while the beginner will have enough to make a start. Look
over the specimens, pick out those that are the cleanest, and put aside
as useless those that are torn or much defaced. Remove any superfluous
paper from the back of the stamps selected for use by carefully touching
the backs with warm water, when the adhering paper can easily be peeled
off. Then cut the sheets of thin writing-paper into strips half an inch
wide, gum along one edge of the strips, and lay the stamps on the gummed
edge as in Fig. 1. Next cut the strips and trim the paper as in Fig. 2.
Now fold this little strip of paper backward, so as to make a hinge, and
fasten it to the blank page by a touch of gum. This is called mounting
the stamp.

Now you may ask why all this labor, all this patience, with a lot of
common stamps. Simply this: this system has been adopted by all
Philatelists, but only after many trials, and the destruction of many
fine specimens; and it is well, therefore, to be guided by the
experience of others. Again, the collection will increase in interest,
which could not be the case if no pains were taken in the mounting, and
it will increase in size. You will, of course, desire to transfer the
stamps to a more pretentious and permanent album. A little moisture will
loosen the strip from the first book, when it can be placed in the new
book without damage. Even when here you may wish to replace it by a
better specimen without injury to the book. Another plan is to mount the
stamps on thin card-board a trifle larger than the stamp, gum a square
of paper to the back of the card, and a touch of gum to the centre will
fasten it to the page.

But why hinge the stamp? Simply to enable you to write under it the date
of issue, its cost, and certain other matters connected with the stamp
itself, so that you may have at hand the few facts necessary to be
known--all of which is necessary if you wish to be a true Philatelist.

[Illustration]

Another point to which particular attention is directed: do not cut the
stamps close up to the printed designs; if perforated, do not cut off
the perforations. Aside from destroying the appearance of the stamps,
you also destroy their value for collectors. Not long since a very large
collection of stamps was sold by auction. Hundreds and hundreds of
dollars must have been spent in purchasing the specimens, among which
were numbers of all rarities. The owner had trimmed and trimmed his
specimens, cutting away everything up to the printed design. The
collection went for a mere song, in comparison to what it would have
brought if the scissors had been left alone. No true collector fancies a
mutilated specimen.

[Illustration]

Thus far I have told you how to select your specimens, and prepare them
for your blank book. At the outset it is likely you will receive nothing
but current stamps of the several countries. Take all you get, select
the best of each kind for yourself, and keep the others to make
exchanges with your companions. That you may have some idea of the value
of your specimens, it would be well to provide yourself with a catalogue
of stamps, in which you will find full lists of all stamps issued, and
in some many illustrations of the stamps. By exercising judgment in your
exchanges you will soon be enabled to get together quite a number of
good specimens from all quarters of the globe, and these without
spending a single penny. Of course there is a limit to this mode of
collecting, and you will soon find that you will require some loose
change in order to add to your album. But do not let this frighten you.
As interest in your collection increases--and it will increase if you
start out properly--ways and means will suggest themselves for getting
desired specimens, and you will be astonished how much you can do at a
little outlay. My collection, which numbers over fourteen thousand
specimens, and which at the very lowest estimate is worth $15,000, has
not cost me $1500 in money. And all this by making judicious use of the
knowledge I acquired gradually, and by following out the principles I
have laid down for your guidance. And my stamps are to-day as great a
source of pleasure to me, if not greater, as were the first specimens I
got eighteen or twenty years ago.

[Illustration]

What I have written thus far applies only to postage or revenue stamps.
Stamped envelopes and wrappers and postal cards must be managed
differently, but it will be well to leave the proper mounting of these
until you have advanced with your "adhesives." For the present,
therefore, it will suffice to say, Do not cut out the designs from the
envelope, wrapper, or card. Keep whole. However, the system of stamps
has increased so enormously that it is next to impossible to keep up
with the different classes. As a consequence, collectors are turning to
specialties. Some devote themselves to postal adhesives, others to
revenue stamps; some to stamped envelopes and wrappers, others to postal
cards; and some, again, collect nothing but the private die proprietary
stamps of the United States. Each of these is a field large enough in
itself to be covered properly, and the one who attempts to cover all, or
even several, will require a very long purse, and more time than can be
spared in this busy age.

Make your choice, therefore, and stick to that alone.



FARM-HOUSE PETS IN JAPAN.

BY ELLIOT GRIFFIS.


The Japanese people are very fond of pets. It is very rare to find a
house entirely destitute of some favorite animal, from the costly _chin_
(King Charles spaniel) to the bob-tailed cat that purrs near the
tea-kettle on the _hibachi_, or fire-box. Canary-birds are quite common,
and in place of something more rare, tiny bantam fowls are caressed and
petted. Even a "rain-frog," or tree-toad, has been made a child's
darling, while the little water turtles with fringed tails are prized as
rare objects of delight.

In the country the boys of the family catch by trap or pit the wild
animals on the hills, and tame them. Hares are the most common creatures
caught, and in a little box of pine wood, with an open front of bamboo
cane, the little pet finds a home. It soon learns to run about the
house, and stand on its hind-legs to nibble bits of radish or lumps of
boiled rice from the children's hands.

Sometimes the farmers find bigger game in their snares, such as badgers
and foxes. If the badger is young, or if the boys can find an old mother
badger's nest, the little cubs can be easily tamed. If kindly treated,
kept from dogs, and not provoked, they are quite harmless.

[Illustration]

But the big badgers are very snappish, and their bites are dangerous. In
the picture we see the old lady of the farm-house, quite scared at the
big badger which one of her sons has caught and hung up by the legs. See
her girdle tied in front, as is the fashion with old ladies in Japan.
"_Naru hodo!_ what a nasty beast!" she is saying. By-and-by the boys
will kill the brute with arrows, and sell the skin to the drum-maker and
the hair to the brush-maker, and the dogs will have a fine feast.

What is that little board at the top, with a rope on either side?

That is the farmer's device to keep the birds away from his rice just
planted. The string makes the crows afraid, and the short bits of bamboo
clatter against the board, and scare off the little birds. The old
badger is tied up by the legs on one of these posts in the field.



[Begun in No. 46 of HARPER'S YOUNG PEOPLE, September 14.]

WHO WAS PAUL GRAYSON?

BY JOHN HABBERTON,

AUTHOR OF "HELEN'S BABIES."

CHAPTER IX.

BENNY'S PARTY.


Mr. Morton's school closed on the last day of June, and the parents of
the pupils were so well pleased with the progress their sons had made
that they almost all thanked the teacher, besides paying him, and they
hoped that he would open it again in the autumn. Mr. Morton thanked the
gentlemen in return, and said he would think about it; he was not
certain that he could afford to begin a new term unless more pupils were
promised, although he did not believe the entire county could supply
better boys than those he had already taught at Laketon.

The boys, when they heard this, determined that they would not be
outdone in the way of compliment, so they resolved, at a full meeting
held in Sam Wardwell's' father's barn, that Mr. Morton was a brick, and
the class would prove it by giving him as handsome a gold watch chain as
could be bought by a contribution of fifty cents from each of the
twenty-three boys. Every boy paid in his fifty cents, although some of
them had to part with special treasures in order to get the money: Benny
Mallow sacrificed his whole collection of birds' eggs, which included
forty-seven varieties, after having first vainly endeavored to raise the
money upon two mole-skins, his swimming tights, and a very large lion
that he had spent nearly a day in cutting from a menagerie poster. The
chain, suitably inscribed, was formally presented in a neat speech by
Joe Appleby; Paul Grayson absolutely refused to do it, insisting that
Joe was the real head of the school; indeed, Paul himself asked Joe to
make the speech, and from that time forth Joe himself pronounced Paul a
royal good fellow, and even introduced him to all girls of his
acquaintance who wore long dresses.

For at least a month after school closed the boys were as busy at one
sort of play and another as if they had a great deal of lost time to
make up. Getting ready for the Fourth of July consumed nearly a week,
and getting over the accidents of the day took a week more. Some of the
boys went fishing every day; others tried boating; two or three made
long pedestrian tours--or started on them--and a few went with Mr.
Morton and Paul on short mineralogical and botanical excursions.

Then, just as mere sport began to be wearisome, August came in, and the
larger fruits of all sorts began to ripen. Fruit was so plenty in and
about Laketon that no one attached special value to it; a respectable
boy needed only to ask in order to get all he could eat, so boys were
invited to each other's gardens to try early apples or plums or pears,
and as no boy was exactly sure which particular fruit or variety he most
liked, the visits were about as numerous as the varieties. Later in the
month the peaches ripened; and as the boy who could not eat a hatful at
a sitting was not considered very much of a fellow, several hours of
every clear day were consumed by attention to peach-trees.

Besides all these delightful duties a great deal of talking had to be
done about the coming cold season. Boys who had spent unsatisfactory
autumns and winters in other years began in time to trade for such
skates, or sleds, or game bags, or other necessities as they might be
without, and the result was that some other boys who traded found
themselves in a very bad way when cold weather came. Between all the
occupations named, time flew so fast that September and the beginning of
another school term were very near at hand before any boy had half
finished all that he had meant to do during vacation.

There were still some pleasant things to look forward to, though: court
would sit in the first week of September, and then the counterfeiter
would be tried, while on the very first day of September would come
Benny Mallow's birthday party--an affair that every year was looked
forward to with pleasure, for Benny's mother, although far from rich,
was very proud of her children, and always made their little companies
as pleasant as any ever given in Laketon for young people. When Benny's
birthday anniversary arrived every respectable boy who knew him was sure
to be invited, even if he had shamefully cheated Benny in a trade a week
before, and Benny generally was cheated when he traded at all, for
whatever thing he wanted seemed so immense beside what he had to offer
for it, that year by year he seemed to own less and less.

At last the night of the party came, and even Joe Appleby, whose own
birthday parties were quite choice affairs, was manly enough to declare
that it was the finest thing of the year. The house was tastefully
dressed with flowers, which always grew to perfection in Mrs. Mallow's
garden, and the lady of the house knew just how to use them to the best
advantage. Benny and his sister received the guests; and although Benny
was barely twelve years old that day, and rather small for his age, he
appeared quite graceful and manly in his new Sunday suit, which had not,
like the new suits of most of the Laketon boys, been cut with a view to
his growing within the year. His sister Bessie was only a month or two
beyond her tenth birthday, but in white muslin and blue ribbons, with
her flaxen hair in a long heavy braid on her back, and her bright blue
eyes and delicate pink cheeks, she was pretty enough to distract
attention from some girls who wore longer dresses, and, indeed, from
several girls in very long dresses, who had been invited out of respect
for the tastes of Joe Appleby, Will Palmer, and Paul Grayson.

Mrs. Mallow was as successful at entertaining young people as she was in
dressing her children and ornamenting her little cottage. She had
prepared charades, and given Bessie a lot of new riddles to propose, and
she herself played on her rather old piano some airs that the boys
enjoyed far more than they did the "exercises" that their sisters were
continually drumming. Several of the boys were rather disappointed at
there being no kissing games, but they compromised on "choosing
partners"; and as there were some guessing tricks, in which the boys who
missed had each to select a girl, and retire to the hall with her until
a new "guess" was agreed upon, it is quite probable that most of the
boys enjoyed opportunities for kissing their particular lady friends
once or twice.

As for the supper, a month passed before Sam Wardwell could think of it
without his mouth watering. There were chicken salad and three kinds of
cake, and ice-cream and water ices and lemonade, and oranges and bananas
that had come all the way from New York in a box by themselves, and
there were mottoes and mixed candies and figs and raisins and English
walnuts, while so many of the almonds had double kernels that every girl
in the room ate at least two philopenas, and therefore had enough to
busy her mind for a day in determining what presents she would claim.

[Illustration: "DE COUNTERFEITER DONE BROKE OUT OB DE JAIL!"]

But, in spite of a well-supplied table and forty or fifty appetites that
never had been known to fail, full justice was not done to that supper,
for while at least half of the company had not got through with the
cream and ices, and Sam Wardwell had only had time to taste one kind of
cake (having helped himself three times to chicken salad), a small
colored boy, who knew by experience that news-carrying levels all ranks,
if only the news is great enough, knocked at the door, and asked for
Benny. While the door stood ajar, and Mrs. Mallow went in search of her
boy, the spectacle of a number of other boys standing in the hall was
too much for the colored boy, so he gasped, "De counterfeiter done broke
out ob de jail!"

Then there was a time. Two or three of the boys abandoned their partners
at once, and hurried to the door to ask questions, while one or two more
seized their hats, sneaked toward the back door, walked leisurely out,
as if they merely wished to cool off, and then started on a rapid run
for the jail. Benny wished to follow them--and not for the purpose of
bringing them back, either--and all of his mother's reasoning powers and
authority had to be exerted to keep her son from forsaking his guests.
Strangest of all, Paul Grayson, who had throughout the evening made
himself so agreeable to at least half a dozen of the young ladies that
he was pronounced just too splendid for anything, had been among the
first to run away! Benny said he never would have thought it of Paul,
and his mother said the very same thing, while the girls, who but a few
moments before had been loud in his praise, now clustered together, with
very red cheeks, and agreed that if a mean old counterfeiter was more
interesting than a lot of young ladies, why, they were sure that
_Mister_ Paul Grayson was entirely welcome to all he could see of the
horrid wretch.

Still, the party went on, after a fashion, although some of the girls
were rather absent-minded for a few moments, until they had determined
what particularly cutting speeches they would make to their beaux when
next they met them. They did not have long to wait, for soon the boys
came straggling back, Sam Wardwell being the first to arrive, for, as on
reaching the jail Sam could learn nothing, and found nothing to look at
but the open door of the empty cell, he shrewdly determined that there
might yet be time to get some more ice-cream if he hurried back. Somehow
none of the girls abused him; on the contrary, they seemed so anxious to
know all about the escape that Sam was almost sorry that he had not
remained away longer and learned more.

Then Ned Johnston returned. He had been lucky enough to meet a man who
had wanted to be Deputy-Sheriff and jail-keeper, but had failed; he told
Ned that the jailer had stupidly forgotten to bolt the great door, after
having examined the inside of the cell, as he did every night before
retiring, to see if the prisoner had been attempting to cut through the
walls. The prisoner had been smart enough to listen, and to notice that
the bolts were not shot nor the key turned, so he had quietly walked
out, and had not Mr. Wardwell met him on the street, and recognized him
in spite of the darkness, and hurried off to tell the Sheriff, no one
would have known of the escape until morning. There was not the
slightest chance of catching the prisoner again, the would-be deputy had
said to Ned; there wasn't brains enough in the Sheriff and all his staff
to get the better of a smart man; but things would be very different if
proper men were in office.

When the party finally broke up, several boys were still missing; but as
their absence gave several other boys the chance to escort two girls
home instead of one, these faithful beaux determined that they had not
lost so very much by remaining, after all.

[TO BE CONTINUED.]



COUNTRY ANECDOTES.


I once saw a life-and-death struggle between two apparently very unequal
opponents--a frog and a beetle. As I was standing near the cellar
window, which was below-ground, and protected by an iron grating, I
noticed in the area below it a large frog, which, at regular intervals
of one or two minutes, leaped from one side of the little inclosure to
the other. I looked more closely, and saw that it was each time followed
by a black beetle, that walked backward and forward, not seeming at all
discouraged when the frog, every time it reached it, jumped back over
its head, and so escaped. It was evidently a trial of strength and
perseverance between the two, and I was anxious to see which would first
give in. They went on, however, for such a long time that I grew tired
of watching them, and went away. The next morning, as I was again
passing, I looked down the area to see what had been the result of the
struggle, and, strange to say, it was still going on; the beetle
deliberately hunting its victim, which, whenever they were about to
meet, escaped by a great leap to the other side of its prison. Not until
that evening did it end: then the poor frog, tired out, and too much
exhausted to make any resistance, became the prey of its enemy, and no
doubt furnished its meals for many a day.

As there were a good many rats about the out-houses and wood stacks,
professional rat-catchers used to come once or twice a year, with their
dogs and ferrets, and were paid according to the number they killed.
Once when our gardener was assisting at the work of destruction he
pulled one of the ferrets out of a hole, where it had been killing a
brood of young rats. The poor mother, who had probably just returned
from an expedition in search of food for her young ones, rushed out
after the ferret, ran up the man's leg, on to his shoulder, and down his
arm, quite blind to her own danger, and only desirous to reach the
object of her vengeance in his hand.



OUR BABY.

BY JIMMY BROWN.


Mr. Martin has gone away. He's gone to Europe or Hartford or some such
place. Anyway I hope we'll never see him again. The expressman says that
part of him went in the stage and part of him was sent in a box by
express, but I don't know whether it is true or not.

I never could see the use of babies. We have one at our house that
belongs to mother and she thinks everything of it. I can't see anything
wonderful about it. All it can do is to cry and pull hair and kick. It
hasn't half the sense of my dog, and it can't even chase a cat. Mother
and Sue wouldn't have a dog in the house, but they are always going on
about the baby and saying "ain't it perfectly sweet!" Why I wouldn't
change Sitting Bull for a dozen babies, or at least I wouldn't change
him if I had him. After the time he bit Mr. Martin's leg father said
"that brute sha'n't stay here another day." I don't know what became of
him, but the next morning he was gone and I have never seen him since. I
have had great sorrows though people think I'm only a boy.

The worst thing about a baby is that you're expected to take care of him
and then you get scolded afterward. Folks say "Here, Jimmy! just hold
the baby a minute, that's a good boy," and then as soon as you have got
it they say "Don't do that my goodness gracious the boy will kill the
child hold it up straight you good-for-nothing little wretch." It is
pretty hard to do your best and then be scolded for it, but that's the
way boys are treated. Perhaps after I'm dead folks will wish they had
done differently.

Last Saturday mother and Sue went out to make calls and told me to stay
home and take care of the baby. There was a base-ball match but what
did they care? They didn't want to go to it and so it made no difference
whether I went to it or not. They said they would be gone only a little
while and that if the baby waked up I was to play with it and keep it
from crying and be sure you don't let it swallow any pins. Of course I
had to do it. The baby was sound asleep when they went out, so I left it
just for a few minutes while I went to see if there was any pie in the
pantry. If I was a woman I wouldn't be so dreadfully suspicious as to
keep everything locked up. When I got back up stairs again the baby was
awake and was howling like he was full of pins. So I gave him the first
thing that came handy to keep him quiet. It happened to be a bottle of
French polish with a sponge in it on the end of a wire that Sue uses to
black her shoes, because girls are too lazy to use a regular
blacking-brush.

The baby stopped crying as soon as I gave him the bottle and I sat down
to read the YOUNG PEOPLE. The next time I looked at him he'd got out the
sponge and about half his face was jet black. This was a nice fix, for I
knew nothing could get the black off his face, and when mother came home
she would say the baby was spoiled and I had done it.

Now I think an all black baby is ever so much more stylish than an all
white baby, and when I saw the baby was part black I made up my mind
that if I blacked it all over it would be worth more than it ever had
been and perhaps mother would be ever so much pleased. So I hurried up
and gave it a good coat of black. You should have seen how that baby
shined! The polish dried just as soon as it was put on, and I had just
time to get the baby dressed again when mother and Sue came in.

I wouldn't lower myself to repeat their unkind language. When you've
been called a murdering little villain and an unnatural son it will
wrinkle in your heart for ages. After what they said to me I didn't even
seem to mind about father but went up stairs with him almost as if I was
going to church or something that wouldn't hurt much.

The baby is beautiful and shiny, though the doctor says it will wear off
in a few years. Nobody shows any gratitude for all the trouble I took,
and I can tell you it isn't easy to black a baby without getting it into
his eyes and hair. I sometimes think that it is hardly worth while to
live in this cold and unfeeling world.



THE UNLUCKY SETTLERS.

BY WILLIAM O. STODDARD.


Deacon Whitney's drug store fronted on the green, and Steve had just
come out, and his father was standing in the door.

Just then Andy Yokum called out across the street, "Steve! Steve
Whitney! what are we boys going to do with this here Saturday, now we've
lost our ball?"

"I know what I'd like to do. Come over here."

"What is it, Steve?"

"Well, you see, Andy, I was down to old Captain Hollowboy's after school
yesterday with a lot of all sorts of chemicals and things he'd been
buying, and I knocked and I knocked, and I couldn't get in; so I went
around to the back door, and there was Captain Hollowboy looking up at
the biggest hornets' nest you ever saw."

"Hornets' nest? Wasn't he trying to break 'em up?"

"No, sir! He was just looking at 'em. And he told me he'd been watching
that nest ever since the hornets began on it."

"Haven't they stung him yet?"

"Well, no; he said they hadn't. He's an old bachelor, you know, and he
said hornets were good enough neighbors as long as there weren't any
small boys around."

"Couldn't we get him to let us go in on that nest?"

"That's just what I asked him, and he said--"

"Hold up, Steve--here he comes!"

"Good-morning, Captain Hollowboy. Toothache, eh? I'll get you
something."

"Toothache, Deacon! No, it isn't toothache. Is this the drug store? Have
I got here? Can't but just see."

"Steve," shouted Andy, "just look at his face! It's all mud."

Captain Hollowboy had taken away his great red bandana handkerchief to
look around him, and Deacon Whitney was holding up both his hands.

"What is the matter, Captain?"

"Hornets, Deacon, hornets. The most pernicious and ungrateful of all
insects. I have applied aqueously saturated alluvium, but I want some
ammonia."

"Slapped on some mud first, and now you want to try some hartshorn?
That's right. I'll get you some quick."

He was getting behind the counter very fast for so fat a man, but Steve
shouted, "Hurrah, Andy! let's go for the Captain's nest."

"Do, my dear boys, do. I consent to their utter obliteration and
extermination; but I wish you would preserve their interesting domicile
intact."

"He means, Andy, that we may kill the hornets, but we mustn't spoil the
nest. He's awful on big words."

"How did it happen?" asked the Deacon, as he held out a big bottle and a
sponge.

"Happen? It was no fault of mine. I did but attempt an unobtrusive
inspection of the marvellous ramifications of their intricate
habitation."

"That's it," said Steve. "He stuck his nose into the nest, and they all
went for him. Come on, Andy."

They were out of sight by the time half the mud had been sponged from
the Captain's long lean face, but before they reached his queer little
house, at the further corner of the village green, the hornets were in
trouble.

Harman Strauss and Bill Ogden and Van Seaver had seen the Captain run,
and they all knew about that hornets' nest.

"Fire's the thing," said Van.

"Biggest smoke we can make," said Harm Strauss.

"We must wrap our heads up," said Bill Ogden, "but it'll be the biggest
kind of a Saturday."

Van had some matches in his pocket, and the heap of sticks and straw and
chips the boys gathered for him was a foot high by the time he got the
third match well a-going.

The hornet's nest was a big one, and there was a wonderfully numerous
tribe of winged settlers in it. They had picked out a fine airy place to
hang their house--just under the eaves of the open shed, back of Captain
Hollowboy's one-story kitchen, at the corner.

The right place for the fire was at the foot of the upright corner post,
but Harman Strauss told Van, "If we stick it there, Van, we'll set the
house afire."

"That'd never do," said Bill Seaver. "It's jam-full of all sorts of
chemicals and things. There'd be an awful blow-up if that house got
afire."

"Might spoil the village."

"Oh, but wouldn't it blow those hornets good and high!"

Just at that moment Steve Whitney and Andy Yokum came over the fence.
They did not even wait to put their handkerchiefs around their necks and
faces before they began to gather great bunches of weeds.

It was time every boy of them had some kind of a brush in his hand, for
the angry insects had smelled the smoke, and were coming out to see
about it.

Such a fire department as they turned themselves into! Or, rather, they
set out as a kind of police brigade to fight a crowd of young
incendiaries, and save Captain Hollowboy's house from being set on fire
and burned up. They were at least determined that not one of those boys
should get any nearer the house they had so carefully built for
themselves against the eaves.

"Mud! mud!" shouted Steve, in half a minute. "Boys, where does the
Captain keep his mud?"

"Have they stung you?"

"Oh, my nose!"

Steve had just started to run for some mud, when he gave another shrill
whoop, "Yow! he's in my neck!" and there was no such thing as any other
boy helping him, for each one of them was thrashing away at the nearest
hornet. That is, except Van, for he had been after some more sticks, and
was just putting them on the fire when he felt as if some one had
dropped a live coal right on his left ankle.

"Wah!" yelled Van; "I've burned a hole in one of my stockings. Ou! it's
burned another! Oh, boys, it's two hornets lit right side by side. Oh
dear!" and there he was, rolling over in the grass, and striking with a
bunch of weeds at something he saw in the air above him.

[Illustration: SMOKING THE HORNETS' NEST.--DRAWN BY S. G. MCCUTCHEON.]

Harman Strauss had been the wisest of them all, for he had pulled a
couple of damp towels off the clothes-line, and had wrapped his head in
one, and given the other to Bill Ogden.

Now he had found Captain Hollowboy's garden rake, and was shouting,
"Give it to 'em, boys! You kill the hornets, and I'll pull down the
nest. We must keep it for the Captain."

"He wants it for a specimen," explained Steve Whitney.

"Will he pickle it somehow?" asked Andy; but at that moment it seemed to
him as if he had leaned against a red-hot pin, and he clapped his hand
to his side. He had better not have dropped his bunch of weeds just
then, for in a second more he was calling out, "Van! Van! did you say
you knew where the mud was?"

"Here it is, Andy, right by the cistern. The Captain must have stirred
it up for himself."

"And they kept right on stinging him while he was putting it on."

"Yah! That's just what they're doing now. They can sting right through a
shirt sleeve."

"Sting? I guess they can; right through anything. Oh dear! I've got
another! Boys, we won't leave one of 'em!"

"Boys! boys! I say, boys, what are you doing? I never indicated my
assent to the application of fire!"

"I declare!" exclaimed Deacon Whitney, as he came through the gate
behind Captain Hollowboy, "the young rascals have set them all a-going."

"Can you see, Deacon? I can not with any accuracy. Where have they
located the combustion?"

"Stuck their bonfire right under the nest, Captain. Let 'em alone. The
upright's burnin' a leetle, but you can put it out easy."

As he said that, Harm Strauss made a valiant pull with his rake, and
down came the nest right into the bonfire.

"There!" exclaimed Steve, "you've spoiled it!"

"Such an exceptionally well-developed specimen!" groaned the Captain.
"Pull it out, one of you."

"Oh! oh!" roared the Deacon, clapping both hands on his ample stomach,
and doing his best to lean over; "I hope he has pulled it out. It must
have gone in half an inch."

The fire had rapidly blazed high and hot, for straw and splinters and
chips kindle fast; and there were no hornets in that nest now, nor any
nest left to hold hornets. In fact, for that matter, Captain Hollowboy's
yard and garden, and the road in front, were too small to hold what was
left of them, and any men and boys at the same time.

Old Mrs. Jones, who lived next door, put her head out of her window to
see what was going on, and then that window came down with a great slam;
and the next thing seen of Mrs. Jones, her silver spectacles were
dropping off into the water-pail as she stooped over it.

There was no doubt but what that settlement of hornets was thoroughly
broken up; but Captain Hollowboy led the way back to the drug store, and
they were all ready to go with him.

"I am sorry," he said to the Deacon, "that you or any of my young
friends are suffering physical inconvenience from the atrocious assaults
of those pernicious insects, but I regret the obliteration of so
remarkable a specimen of their ingenuity."



[Illustration: BUCKWHEAT CAKES.]



ANCIENT EGYPT.


Of all the curious works of the ancient Egyptians, the most strange and
dream-like are the sphinxes. They are innumerable along the Nile, half
man, half beast, carved in solid stone. But one--known as the
Sphinx--the largest and most wonderful, sits near the Pyramids, with
staring stone eyes that seem to have almost learned to see. It is half
buried in the sands. Its head rises more than sixty feet above its base.
Whole avenues of sphinxes lined the courts of the Egyptian temples. Then
there are the tombs, or catacombs, where the mummies are preserved--long
galleries cut in the rock, decorated with paintings, covered with the
dust of generations. Along the river these cemeteries are almost
numberless. On the walls are drawn all the various occupations of the
people. The fisherman is seen drawing his nets, the ploughman driving
his team, the soldier returning from the war. But the most curious of
the catacombs are those devoted to the preservation of the mummies of
cats, bulls, birds of all kinds, and crocodiles. The Egyptians
worshipped animals and birds, and when they died, preserved their bodies
by a singular process. The bull (Apis) was adored at Memphis, and his
death was a season of general woe. When a cat in a house at Thebes died,
all the family went in mourning, and shaved their eyebrows.



THE GRAND PROCESSION.

BY MARY DENSEL.


Elsie Baker was sitting on a log in the wood-shed, gloomily listening to
her brother Joe, who was talking with much enthusiasm.

"For I tell you, sir," said he to Elsie, "it isn't every boy who'll get
a chance to be in that percession to-night, sir. There'll be a thousand
torches, and speeches, and fire-works; and the train leaves Porter's
Corner at six o'clock; and Mr. Hill says to me, 'You be on hand, Joe,
you and Jack Stone, and you may go to Portland along of the
"Continentals," and march each side of the flag, and wear white rubber
capes, and carry a torch apiece if you like.' It's to be the biggest
show of the season, and--"

"I can't go," burst in Elsie. "Just because I'm a girl I can never go
anywhere or see anything."

"Of course not," assented Joe, cheerfully. "Girls never can. I go
because father's in Ohio, and I'm the man of the family. I declare I
shouldn't wonder if half the people in Portland should think Jack and I
could vote when they see us _percessing_. Three cheers for Hanfield!"

Hanfield? Hanfield? That did not sound quite right. Joe meditated.
Hanfield? Well, never mind. There was no time to waste over names. If
Joe would help toward the election of a President of the United States,
he must be off and away for Jack Stone, or the two would miss the train.

And Elsie? Poor little Elsie was left forlorn. She was quite alone, for
her mother had gone to visit a sick neighbor, and would not even be at
home for tea.

"Oh, _why_ shouldn't a girl do just what her brother does, and have some
fun?" thought Elsie, bitterly. "Or else why wasn't I born a boy?"

She sat close to the andirons in front of the wood fire, and more and
more dismal did she grow. She had nearly come to wondering whether it
was really worth while to live if one had to be only a girl, when the
front door burst open, and in bounced Master Joe.

"Elsie," cried he, grasping her by the arm, "here's your chance. You can
go."

"Go? go?" repeated Elsie, flushing crimson with excitement.

Joe hurried on. "Jack Stone's sick. Earache--both ears--onions on'
em--here's his cap--who'll know you're not a boy?--tuck up your
skirts--on with this big cape--come!"

Elsie was beside herself. "Mother wouldn't let me," she half gasped.

"Did she ever say you mustn't?" argued Joe. "Like as not we'll be back
before she is. Don't be a goose. There's no time to talk. Hurry! hurry!
You won't get such another chance."

Her eyes flashing, her brain in a whirl, Elsie pulled the blue cap over
her short curls. Her little petticoats were quickly pinned up and
covered by the rubber cape. With her unlighted torch over her shoulder,
who would not have thought her a sturdy younger brother of the boy who
held her tightly by the hand, and exhorted her not to let the grass grow
under her feet.

Down the road they flew, and reached the station just as the
"Continentals" came marching up with fife and drum.

"Here we are, Mr. Hill," said Joe, presenting himself and his companion.

"All right," said Mr. Hill, too busy to pay much attention. "Keep with
the rest of the men. How are you, Jack, my boy?"

There was no time for the make-believe "Jack, my boy" to answer. The
engine was puffing and panting. Elsie was swung on the train, where Joe
and she tucked themselves away on a back seat.

The "Continentals" were in the best of humor, so were the "Philbrick
Pioneers," who, gorgeous in their Zouave regimentals, came crowding into
the car at the next station, to crack jokes and talk politics.

"Well done, little chaps," said their captain, spying out Joe and his
comrade. "You're beginning early, eh? Nothing like getting the boys on
the right side. Ha! ha!"

Joe grinned, and was about to volunteer a "Hurrah for Hanfield!" but
thought better of it.

One of the men frightened Elsie nearly out of her wits by chucking her
under the chin, and shouting, rudely,

"You're a bright-eyed cove, you are. Does your mother know you're out?"

A sharp nudge from Joe kept her from saying, "No, she doesn't," but she
shrunk close up to him, whispering, fearfully,

"Me the only girl, Joe!"

"Hush! Nobody'll think it, if you keep quiet," said Joe, hastily,
himself a little disturbed; the men were so rough, and made so much
noise.

But while he was thinking what he should do if any one else insulted his
sister the train stopped with a jerk, and everybody was out in a
twinkling.

There were shouts of command. The "Continentals" and "Pioneers" fell
into line. Torches were lit. A host of boys set up shrill yells. Joe and
Elsie were twitched into place by energetic Mr. Hill, and ordered to
hold up their heads and keep time to the music.

"Isn't it fun?" thought Elsie, stepping briskly along, and grasping her
torch with both hands.

If one hundred torches were "fun," what could be said when they reached
Market Square, where the grand procession was to form, and where there
was a blaze of light such as Elsie had never imagined! Bands were
playing, horses were prancing; some one set fire to a sort of powder,
and, lo! the whole street was rosy red.

Now everything was ready, and the march began. Whole blocks on each side
were festooned with bunting and Chinese lanterns; candles twinkled in
every pane; all the gas-burners did their best; Roman candles shot out
colored stars; rockets went up with a fizz.

"Hurrah! hurrah! hurrah!" The procession was pausing in front of a big
house. Somebody was making a speech. Nobody could understand half he
said. No matter. "Hurrah! hurrah! hurrah!" Elsie shouted with the rest,
and trotted gayly on.

"No reason in the world I shouldn't have come, like any other boy!
Hurrah!"

Up one street and down another, each more brilliant than the last, Elsie
marched on, till suddenly a small, then a larger, pain began to make
itself felt in one of her feet.

"It's my new boots," said she to herself. "Why didn't I change them?
I'll stamp hard and then I shall be easy."

But somehow she was not easy. Up one street, down another. It was not so
much a pain in one particular spot now as a general ache, not only in
her foot, but in her whole body.

"I'm afraid I'm growing tired."

She glanced at Joe. That worthy was in high spirits, and apparently as
fresh as ever. Elsie limped bravely on. Across an open space the
procession wheeled, and halted again to drink lemonade out of big tubs
on the sidewalk. Elsie ventured to complain to Joe.

"Oh, cheer up!" was all the comfort he had for her. "We've marched 'most
half the distance now."

"'Most half the distance!" Why, Elsie could never hold out if that were
the case. Once more she struggled on. It seemed as if she had been
marching for years and years--ever since she was a baby. She could not
drag herself another inch. In the midst of a cheer she crept up a flight
of steps, and sank down.

"I'll wait a few minutes, and then run fast, and catch Joe again,"
thought she.

The next moment, as it seemed, she heard two voices near her.

"The party must be hard up that has to take babies like this to help on
their cause," said one.

"Poor little fellow!" answered the other--a lady. "He's dropped down,
torch and all, and gone to sleep."

Elsie started and looked around her. Where was the procession? Where was
Joe? Too terrified to say a word, up the street she rushed, gazing
wildly on this side and on that. No Joe did she see; no procession
either. It would have been quite dark but for the street lamps.

"I must stop somewhere. I must ask some one for Joe."

At a house smaller than the others she paused, and rang the bell. There
was a confused sound of talking within.

"Don't you open that door as you value your life, Phoebe Maria," said
some one in shrill tones. "Us all alone! This time of night! It's
tramps, sure!"

Then Phoebe Maria called through the key-hole, "Go right away. I
sha'n't let you in if you stop there till midnight. De-part!"

I think if the word "de-_part_" had not sounded so very ponderous, Elsie
would have called back that she was no tramp. As it was, she ran blindly
on.

"Mother! mother!" she sobbed, wringing her little cold hands. But no one
answered. A clock near by tolled nine, ten, eleven. Two drops of rain
fell. The wind rustled drearily among the tree-tops.

Steps sounded near. A tall man approached, and Elsie caught the gleam of
brass buttons.

"What are you doing here, boy?" demanded the newcomer, in a great bass
voice.

"I'm not a boy," cried Elsie. "I never was a boy in all my life. I'm
Elsie Baker. I want to go home."

She quite broke down, and wept piteously.

"Hoity-toity!" exclaimed the man, who was one of the police. "Where is
your home?"

"Out at Porter's Corner. Joe brought me to the percession. I wish he
hadn't. I wish-- Oh dear, dear me!"

"Now here's a pretty mess!" said the policeman. "There's nothing for it
but to take charge o' you to-night, and see how we can manage to-morrow.
You come along with me."

Finding the child too exhausted to walk, he picked her up, and tramped
off down in town with his burden. Where did he carry her?

To tell the truth, there seemed to be no other place, and he took her to
the public "lock-up."

Elsie was too worn and spent to mind; too hungry was she not to devour
eagerly the bit of salt fish and hard cracker which her new friend gave
her; then forgetting her woes, she fell asleep once more, safely wrapped
in his warm overcoat.

But, in the morning, waking in a strange place, all the terror of last
night came upon her once more. Through an open door she darted like a
startled hare, and when No. 11 came, an hour later, to find her, no
child was visible. All that was left was the small rubber cape with its
red collar.

"I must find some cars," thought Elsie. "I can't get home unless I find
some cars."

It must have been her guardian angel who led the little girl, for, as
she walked hastily along, right in front of her loomed up a big
building, in and out of which locomotives were running.

"Would you please point out the train for Porter's Corner?" said Elsie,
tremblingly approaching a man who was pushing round some trunks.

"Bless you! you're at the wrong station for that, sissy or bubby,
whichever you be," said the man, glancing from the girl's dress to the
boy's cap. "But there," added he, as the brown eyes filled with tears,
"a gravel train's just going across the city to the Eastern Dépôt. Come
with me, and I'll take you there."

Down the track Elsie rode, perched on a heap of gravel.

"I cal'late you've got a ticket for Porter's Corner?" said her
companion.

Here was fresh trouble. No ticket had she, and, what was worse, not a
penny to buy one.

"You don't mean to say you're going to _steal_ a ride!" exclaimed the
man.

Very likely this was meant for a joke, but Elsie took it for sober
earnest. She had been called a "tramp" last night; now she was taken for
a thief. It was too dreadful. She looked here and there, if perchance
there might be some way of escape from all this misery, and
suddenly--why!--what?--that boy on the platform of the Eastern
Dépôt--could it be?

"Joe! Joe!" shrieked Elsie.

It was Joe: a very wretched Joe, a Joe who had not slept a wink all
night, though he had gone home in a vain hope he might find the missing
sister there.

He saw Elsie. He sprang toward her. He clambered on the car almost
before it stopped. He hugged her, he kissed her. Boy though he was, he
wept great tears over her. Then he took her by both shoulders and shook
her.

"Oh, you bad girl! Where have you been? You've frightened mother 'most
to death. Elsie, Elsie, what _made_ you come to Portland?"

"You brought me, Joe," said Elsie, humbly.

Home they went, those two. At the Porter's Corner station they found
every man and woman of the village, and to each severally must Elsie
tell her story. Her mother never said a word. She only clasped Elsie
tighter and tighter, while the tears streamed down her cheeks.

But Joe!--oh, Joe did talking enough for all. The lofty sentiments that
flowed from the lips of that virtuous youth were truly refreshing. His
own share in last night's adventures had quite slipped his mind. He felt
called upon, as "the man of the family," to exhort his sister at length
in regard to her manners and morals.

"And now, Elsie Baker," he ended, "I hope you see why girls can't do as
boys do. I could have marched for a week and not been tired. I hope
you'll remember this the next time you want to tag on when I'm going
anywhere."

And Elsie was actually so tired that she hadn't the spirit to answer a
word.



[Illustration: SCANDAL.]

SCANDAL.


  "What do you think?"
    "I'm sure I don't know!"
  "Don't tell anybody!"
    "Oh no! oh no!"

  "Somebody told me
    That some one else said
  That so and so told them
    (You won't tell what I said?")

  "Oh no! I won't tell.
    What is it? Oh dear!
  The way that you tell it,
    Is really so queer!"

  "Oh yes! But have patience,
    I'll tell you in time;
  But I have to make it
    All fit into rhyme.
  Now don't tell anybody,
    Because, if you do,
  My secrets, the next time,
    I'll not tell to you."



[Illustration: GOING TO SCHOOL.]

GOING TO SCHOOL.


  Slowly to school, slowly they went--
  _His_ eyes on his book were downward bent;
  _She_ looked on the ground as they went along,
  But neither looked willing to sing a song.
  _She_ was thinking of pudding and jam,
  _He_ was spelling Seringapatam.
  Oh for a kite, or a top, or a ball,
  Battledore, shuttlecock, hoop, and all!



[Illustration: THE BIRD-CATCHER.]

THE BIRD-CATCHER.


  Laurence has set such a wonderful trap,
  It has a long string, and goes to with a snap;
  He has carefully scattered some grains of corn,
  And see! there's a bird coming over the lawn;
  Away it comes chirruping, chirping, and hopping;
  Into the trap it will soon be popping!
  Helen and Gisha take part in the sport,
  It is so exciting to see a bird caught!



[Illustration: THE LITTLE WALK.]

THE LITTLE WALK.


  Oh, dear me! what a great big hat!
  Suppose we were all to wear hats like that!
  And see Mab's bonnet and peacock plume--
  I hope her head will find plenty of room!
  But Mab is kind, and gives Baby a ride,
  The Baby that wears the hat so wide.
  They won't have to walk too far or too long,
  Unless sister Mab is uncommonly strong,
  For Baby looks heavy, and so does her hat--
  The Baby who's sucking her fingers so fat!



[Illustration: RIGHT OF WAY.]

"RIGHT OF WAY."


  "Baa, baa, there's no road this way!"
  "Pretty sheep, do let me pass, I say,
  It's too late to go back again to-day;
  Nice little sheep, please do go away!"

  "Baa, baa, we won't let you by;
  It's no use for you to begin to cry.
  You can't come this road--no, not if you try,
  And never mind asking the reason why."



[Illustration]

THE NURSERY CHAIR.


  Edith sits up in her chair so high;
  How busy she looks with her down-bent eye!
  What is she doing? Can you not guess?
  With her little bare feet, and her little night-dress.
  She is plucking the raisins so rich and so nice
  From out of her cake that is flavored with spice.



[Illustration: AN UNINVITED VISITOR.]

AN UNINVITED VISITOR.


  Rosie was breakfasting out on the grass,
  When two pigs on a walking tour happened to pass.
  One pig with rude manners came boldly in front,
  And first gave a stare, and then gave a grunt,
  As much as to say, "What is that you have got?
  Just let me have a taste out of your pot."
  But Rosie said, "Go away, horrid old pig!
  _I_ am so little, and _you_ are so big!"



[Illustration]

SKIPPING.


  Airily, airily, skip away:
  Set to work, all of you, trip away!
  Over your head, and under your toes,
  That's the way the merry rope goes!
  Aprons flap in the breezy air;
  Fly away, lessons, this holiday fair!



[Illustration: OUR POST-OFFICE BOX.]


  NEW YORK CITY.

     I have a little girl who has derived a great deal of pleasure from
     YOUNG PEOPLE. She has had every number since the beginning, and
     when through with them she sends them to children who are too poor
     to buy papers.

      Perhaps some of the readers of this paper could amuse themselves
      by trying to form a word--said to be the only one possible in the
      English language--from the following combination of letters:
      H E C S T Y.

  S.

       *       *       *       *       *

  DRESDEN, GERMANY.

     My dear companion-readers of YOUNG PEOPLE, let me tell you
     something about Dresden, the capital of Saxony, in which city I now
     live. Dresden is situated on the Elbe--a river of about one-seventh
     the size of the Hudson. The city is sometimes called Elb-Florence,
     as it contains picture-galleries, museums, nice architectural
     buildings, squares, theatres, and handsomely built churches. The
     Prager See and the Schloss Strasse are the most crowded streets,
     and as I am living on the first one, I enjoy seeing all the
     passers-by from my lofty stone balcony. Many good concerts are
     given here, and in the summer season the open-air concerts are
     visited by all the best people of Dresden.

      The city has many lovely promenades and parks. The Zoological
      Garden is a gem, and wild and tame animals of all kinds may be
      seen there. Very often queer people, such as Esquimaux, Indians,
      Nubians, and Hindoos, come to Dresden, and have an exhibition, and
      many strangers may be seen in the streets. To-day the Chevalier
      Blondin, the celebrated tight-rope walker, created a great
      sensation, and many people attended his daring performance,
      rewarding his dangerous and difficult feats with enthusiastic
      applause.

      I like YOUNG PEOPLE very much. The new serial, "Who was Paul
      Grayson?" by Mr. Habberton, is excellent. Many of the incidents
      remind me of some I myself have witnessed. I remember the
      school-boy fights, and the teasing of new scholars. The other
      stories are also very interesting, and the jokes are sometimes
      capital. I like the cuts very much, and I hope both those and
      YOUNG PEOPLE--may it flourish for a long time!--will always remain
      as nice as now.

  LOUIS G. E.

       *       *       *       *       *

  BALTIMORE, MARYLAND.

     I wish to tell the boys and girls that take this beautiful little
     paper about our sesquicentennial, or the one-hundred-and-fiftieth
     anniversary of Baltimore. On Monday, October 11, the procession
     illustrated the history of Baltimore. In one wagon was an Indian
     scene, to represent Indian life. In another wagon was a large
     vessel with men in it in early Spanish costume, to represent
     Christopher Columbus and his crew. The Corn Exchange had several
     wagons, two of which were very amusing--one had a large bull in it,
     and the other a great ugly bear, which walked restlessly around the
     pole to which it was chained. A florist was represented by a
     beautiful garden, with trees, flowers, and grass, and right under
     the tree a funny little monkey was tied. It jumped all about, and
     looked very cunning, for it was very small.

      Among the tableaux was a representation of Neptune drawn in a
      shell by two dragons in the water. Of course it was not real
      water, but it looked exactly like waves. At the other end of this
      wagon was a mermaid, half out of water. It was a very beautiful
      scene. Every trade was on parade, and some were working in their
      wagons. The butchers were making sausages, and throwing them to
      the people, and the bakers threw cakes and biscuit. The procession
      was ten miles long, and it was five hours passing a given point.

      On Tuesday all the different societies, and the public and private
      school children, were on parade. All the houses and stores and
      public buildings were decorated with black and orange--the colors
      of Maryland--and with the American flag. The city looked very
      bright and beautiful. I am very proud of being a Baltimore girl. I
      am thirteen years old.

  JESSIE H. L.

       *       *       *       *       *

  COOPERSBURG, KANSAS.

     The first thing I read when my little paper comes is the
     Post-office Box. I live on a big prairie. I have a pet kitty, and
     lots of chickens and turkeys.

  ADELLA T.

       *       *       *       *       *

  BAY CITY, MICHIGAN.

     I wish some little girl would give me a good recipe for
     johnny-cake. My father has offered a prize to my sister and myself
     for the best johnny-cake.

  MARY G.

       *       *       *       *       *

  COUNCIL BLUFFS, IOWA.

     I have taken YOUNG PEOPLE since my seventh birthday, which was the
     15th of March. I like it very much, and I want papa to take it
     another year. I like the "Story of George Washington."

      I have two little brothers, Fred and Walter. Fred is four years
      old, and goes to a Kindergarten. Walter and I go to the public
      school. We have a velocipede and a rocking-horse, but no live
      pets.

  LOUIS EDWIN E.

       *       *       *       *       *

  GRANVILLE, WISCONSIN.

     I take YOUNG PEOPLE, and I like it very much indeed.

      My brother Allie and I are raising two calves. Their names are
      Rosa and Jim, and now when we call them they will come running.

      The other day I found some very pretty stones. I carried them in
      the house and put them in a tumbler filled with water, and set
      them in the sun. If any little girl wishes to do this, a
      large-mouthed bottle will answer as well as a tumbler; and if the
      stones have bright, pretty colors, and there are some arrow flints
      scattered among them, the effect when the sun shines on them is
      very beautiful.

  ROSE C.

       *       *       *       *       *

  NEW YORK CITY.

     Mamma, Georgie, and Frank went fishing down to the Point yesterday,
     and Georgie caught two smelts and a crab. Frank also caught two
     smelts, but while they were in the basket a crow came along, and
     took them both off.

  JAKIE T.

       *       *       *       *       *

  LAKE VIEW, ILLINOIS.

     I am a little girl nine years old, and I enjoy YOUNG PEOPLE very
     much.

      I have a great many dolls, and I have a pet parrot that is very
      fond of me. He can not talk very much, but he will learn. I had a
      pet cat, but it got lost.

  GRACE D. C.

       *       *       *       *       *

  COLLAMER, NEW YORK.

     I am taking YOUNG PEOPLE, and I am delighted with it.

      I have two pet cats, and I have some house plants. This summer
      there were some small insects at work on their roots. I wish some
      one could tell me what they were.

      I am taking music lessons, and like to practice very much.

      I have quite a large collection of birds' eggs.

  BERTHA G. M.

       *       *       *       *       *

  PREAKNESS, NEW JERSEY.

     I have three old rabbits and two young ones. I used to have
     twenty-six, but I sold some and lost some. Rabbits have very
     interesting habits. Sometimes they sit up on their hind-feet and
     wash their faces with their fore-feet.

      I am trying to make a fresh-water aquarium. I had a fresh-water
      lobster, two lizards, and some minnows, but they all died. Can you
      tell me how to take better care of them?

  JUDSON S. T.

We can not give you any fuller directions than are contained in the
papers on aquaria in YOUNG PEOPLE, Nos. 42 and 43.

       *       *       *       *       *

  MAYERSVILLE, MISSISSIPPI.

     I have never written to the Post-office before, but now I wish to
     say how very much I like this valuable little paper. I only
     commenced taking it myself with No. 41, but before that I borrowed
     it from a friend. I can not tell you how much I enjoy it. I believe
     I liked the story called "Moonshiners" best of all.

      I live on the Mississippi River in a very pretty little town.

  GERTRUDE P.

       *       *       *       *       *

  PHILADELPHIA, PENNSYLVANIA.

     I am so much obliged to YOUNG PEOPLE for all the stories and poems.

      I wish all the children could see my parrot. She is the wonder of
      the age. Every one that comes to our house is convulsed with
      laughter at her laughing, crying, singing, and talking. She is
      very impudent; and after imitating any one, which she does
      capitally, she will roar with laughter, and cry out, "Oh, Polly,
      how funny!" Sometimes she swears. Then she laughs again, and
      cries, "Oh, you bad Polly!"

      Will you tell me of some books of fairy tales for older children?
      I think the story of "Photogen and Nycteris" was lovely.

  MAY.

There are a great many books of fairy tales which even grown-up children
enjoy very much. _The Rose and the Ring_, by Thackeray, is delightful.
Miss Johnson's _Catskill Fairies_, relating how they amused a little boy
who was blocked in by a snow-storm, is a very fascinating book. Then
there are the fairy-books of Laboulaye and Macé, _Puss-Cat Mew_, _Queer
Folks_, _Tales at Tea-Time_, and other books by Knatchbull-Hugessen.
_Alice in Wonderland_ is also very entertaining; for although it is the
most absurd nonsense ever written, we pity the person too old to enjoy
it. _The Snow-Queen_, and other fairy tales by Hans Christian Andersen,
are charming books for readers of any age.

       *       *       *       *       *

  ACCORD, NEW YORK.

     The Post-office is a mile and a half away from where I live, but I
     get YOUNG PEOPLE every Tuesday, and I can hardly wait for it. I
     learn ever so much from it.

      I have a little brother Henry, four years old, and a little sister
      Eleanor, who is ten months. She is a great pet. My papa has two
      mills here, and he is very busy, but he devotes a great deal of
      time to our comfort and enjoyment.

  MOLLY C. D.

       *       *       *       *       *

  NEW YORK CITY.

     I have seen so very many letters about pets in the Post-office Box
     that I thought I would write the story of a poor, lone, forlorn
     chicken a friend of mine had.

      This chicken was orphaned and thrown upon the tender mercies of
      this world at the tender age of two days. Jet discovered it, and
      brought it into the house. She fed it, and every night wrapped it
      up in a flannel rag, and put it into a snug corner near the stove,
      and took it out again in the morning. At last it grew so large Jet
      considered it in the way, so one night she took it out to roost
      with the other fowls on the grape-vine trellis. The next day Jet
      found her Majesty waiting to be fed as usual, and every night she
      had to lift her up on to the trellis. This continued about a
      month, when Jet's patience gave way, and the poor chicken was
      beheaded.

      I enjoy YOUNG PEOPLE very much indeed. The stories I have liked
      the most are "Photogen and Nycteris," the series by "Jimmy Brown,"
      Bessie Maynard's long-worded letters to her doll, and "Who was
      Paul Grayson?"

  BERSIA.

       *       *       *       *       *

     I have a collection of twelve hundred and fifty postage and revenue
     stamps, and I would like to exchange with readers of YOUNG PEOPLE
     residing in Newfoundland, Nova Scotia, Prince Edward Island, or in
     any part of Canada. Correspondents will please give the number of
     stamps in their collection.

  H. A. BLAKESLEY,
  54 West Eighth Street, Topeka, Kansas.

       *       *       *       *       *

     I have no pets, but I have the dearest little brother that ever
     lived, and I am going to have a present of a kitty. I like "The
     Moral Pirates" and "Who was Paul Grayson?" very much.

      I will gladly exchange flower seeds with Grace Denton, as I live
      very far West.

  LAURA C. MARSHALL, Greeley, Colorado.

       *       *       *       *       *

     We have been pressing a great many autumn leaves and ferns, and
     would be glad to exchange them for flower seeds with any of the
     readers of YOUNG PEOPLE. Correspondents will please mark the name
     plainly on each package of seed.

  BESSIE G. and ELIZA B. BARTLETT,
  Greensburg, Green County, Kentucky.

       *       *       *       *       *

     I have a collection of postage stamps, and would like to exchange
     with Harry Gustin, Eddie De Lima, Horace C. Foote, or with any
     other readers of YOUNG PEOPLE. Correspondents will please send a
     list of stamps they have to exchange, and of those they would like
     in return.

  E. M. DEVOE, P. O. Box 159, Mount Vernon,
  Westchester County, New York.

       *       *       *       *       *

     Will "Wee Tot," or some other subscriber to YOUNG PEOPLE, send me
     some sea-shells in exchange for feathers of the white crane and of
     some other wild birds? I have also a petrified buffalo's tooth
     which I will exchange for shells or quartz.

  THEODORE PATCHEN,
  Herman, Grant County, Minnesota.

       *       *       *       *       *

     I am collecting stamps, postmarks, and shells. I have to exchange a
     good many Greek stamps and some shells.

  ANDREW GUNARI,
  Care of P. Gunari, New Rochelle, New York.

       *       *       *       *       *

     I enjoy knitting lace very much, but I would like some new
     patterns. I have two that are wide, the oak-leaf and Normandy, and
     one that is narrow and very easy. I will be glad to exchange any of
     these for something new.

      A class of the pupils in this school have just listened to "The
      Moral Pirates," and enjoyed it very much.

  ALICE C. LITTLE,
  Institution for the Blind, Janesville, Wisconsin.

       *       *       *       *       *

     I would like to exchange postage stamps with any of the readers of
     this interesting paper. I have some very rare stamps to exchange.

  FRANK F. RICE,
  109 East Seventy-ninth Street, New York City.

       *       *       *       *       *

     I like to read the letters in HARPER'S YOUNG PEOPLE.

      I have three kittens, and a canary which is very tame. I go to
      school, and am taking drawing lessons.

      I will exchange postage stamps with any of the correspondents of
      YOUNG PEOPLE. I am ten years old.

  ARLINE M. SKIFF,
  37 College Street, New Haven, Connecticut.

       *       *       *       *       *

     I would like to exchange eggs, copper ore, postmarks, and stamps
     for coins or Indian relics.

  S. B. FOSTER, Knowlton, P. Q., Canada.

       *       *       *       *       *

HENRY R. H.--Yale College was chartered in 1701, and in the autumn of
that same year the school was opened in Saybrook, Connecticut. It was
removed to New Haven in 1716. In the first years of its existence it was
known as "The Collegiate School of Connecticut," but in 1718 the name
was changed to Yale College, as a recognition of gifts of valuable books
and considerable sums of money from Elihu Yale, who was a native of New
Haven, but who left his birth-place when a boy, and resided all his life
in either London or India. He amassed great wealth, and was for some
time Governor of the East India Company. He died in London in 1721.

       *       *       *       *       *

LEWIS D.--In early numbers of the Post-office Box, especially in No. 5,
are directions for the care of a pet tortoise. And in YOUNG PEOPLE No.
27, in the article entitled "A Letter from a Land Turtle," you will find
interesting facts about the habits of these creatures.

       *       *       *       *       *

ROBERT G. S.--Rabbits, as a rule, obtain all the moisture they require
from the leaves of lettuce, cabbage, and other succulent plants upon
which they feed. They like bread or cracker soaked in milk, and we have
known rabbits that would drink water, but it is not supposed to be
required by the little beasts when they are in a healthy state.

       *       *       *       *       *

MINNIE W.--Vancouver Island was named from Captain George Vancouver, a
British naval officer, who accompanied Captain Cook in his first and
second voyages round the world. In 1790 he was put in command of a small
squadron, and sent to take possession of the Nootka region, then in the
hands of the Spaniards. The island which now bears his name was
surrendered to him by the Spanish commandant Quadra in 1792. Vancouver
was instructed by the English government to institute a search for a
northern water connection between the Atlantic and Pacific oceans after
taking possession of Nootka, but he was unable to discover what many
navigators before and after him sought for in vain. It was not until
1850 that the Northwest Passage was finally discovered by Sir Robert
McClure. Captain Vancouver died in England in 1798.

       *       *       *       *       *

JENNIE C. A.--The cover for YOUNG PEOPLE is strong, and very prettily
ornamented. It is not self-binding, but any book-binder will put it on
for you for a small charge. See answer to C. B. M. in Post-office Box of
YOUNG PEOPLE No. 53.

       *       *       *       *       *

DUDLEY.--The standard value of the foreign coins about which you inquire
is subject to slight variation in the United States, but as used in the
computation of customs duties on January 1, 1880, it was as follows:
Chilian peso, or dollar, ninety-one cents; Peruvian dollar, eighty-three
cents; Norwegian crown, twenty-six cents; India rupee of sixteen annas,
thirty-nine cents; Brazilian milreis of one thousand reis, fifty-four
cents; Austrian florin, forty-one cents; German mark, twenty-three
cents; Turkish piaster, four cents; Italian lira, nineteen cents;
Russian ruble of one hundred copecks, sixty-six cents. We have not given
the fractions of a cent, which in business transactions are added to the
above amounts, for as you are simply a coin collector, we do not think
you will require them.--The Spanish silver "quarter," the "elevenpence,"
worth twelve and a half cents, and the "fi'penny-bit," worth six and a
quarter cents, were in general circulation in the United States,
especially in the West, about forty years ago. These coins were marked
by the two pillars of the Spanish coat of arms, between them the two
castles and two lions rampant of Castile in a shield surmounted by a
crown.

       *       *       *       *       *

"YOUNG SAILOR."--The first light-house of which there is any record in
history was built by Ptolemy Philadelphus about 300 B.C. It was a tower
on which wood fires were kept blazing at night. It was built on Pharos,
a small island in the bay of Alexandria, and was one of the Seven
Wonders of the World. It is an interesting fact that the modern French
and Spanish names for light-house--the one being _phare_, the other
_faro_--still preserve the memory of the island where the first attempt
at sea-coast illumination was located. The ruined tower in Dover Castle,
England, erected about A.D. 44, is claimed by some authorities to have
been built for a light-house, upon which an enormous wood fire was kept
burning.

The light-house on the southern end of the island of Conanicut, at the
mouth of Narragansett Bay, is said to be the oldest in the United
States. The present structure is comparatively modern, but the first one
was erected in 1750, and for nearly one hundred years previous a
watch-tower with a beacon fire had existed at the same point.

This light-house bears the odd name of Beaver Tail. The southern portion
of Conanicut Island is shaped something like a beaver, with its tail
pointing southward, and in early times it was known by that name, the
two extremities being called head and tail.

Previous to 1789 the few light-houses existing in the United States were
maintained by the States in which they were situated, but from that date
the expense was assumed by the general government, and in 1791 the first
light-house under the new law was erected at Cape Henry. There are now
nearly six hundred and fifty light-houses, lighted beacons, and
light-ships on the coast and waters of the United States.

       *       *       *       *       *

JACK NEMO.--If you paid a year's subscription to YOUNG PEOPLE, you will
receive your paper until January, 1881. Subscriptions may begin with any
number, and the paper will be sent the length of time for which the
subscription is taken, without reference to the beginning or close of a
volume.

       *       *       *       *       *

Favors are acknowledged from Frank L. L., Joseph Henry C., S. V. B.,
A. R. Reeves, Lloyd Elliot, "Bo-Peep," Mary Burns, Hattie Venable,
Bertha M. Hubbard, Nellie M. S., Amy L. O.

       *       *       *       *       *

Correct answers to puzzles are received from Nellie Brainard, Jennie C.
Ridgway, "Jupiter," G. Dudley Kyte, A. H. Ellard, Alfred C. P. Opdyke,
George M. Finckel, G. Volckhausen.

       *       *       *       *       *

ANSWERS TO PUZZLES IN NO. 51.

No. 1.

  C-hestnut.
  E-lm.
  D-ogwood.
  A-sh.
  R-ose-wood.

No. 2.

      B           H
    F L Y       D O E
  B L O O D - H O U N D
    Y O N       E N D
      D           D

No. 3.

  I R I S   R A C E
  R O S E   A C I D
  I S L E   C I T E
  S E E R   E D E N

No. 4.

Lemon.

No. 5.

  P A R T N E R
    G O R G E
      F E E
        N
      A T E
    S T O I C
  L E O N A R D

PUZZLES FROM YOUNG CONTRIBUTORS.

No. 1.

DIAMOND--(_To Bolus_).

1. A letter. 2. To loiter. 3. A plant. 4. The kingfisher. 5. Merrily. 6.
Shy. 7. A letter.

  ZELOTES.

       *       *       *       *       *

No. 2.

EASY SQUARES.

1. First, an easy seat. Second, to unfold. Third, measures. Fourth,
insects.

  S. F. W.

2. First, a quantity of wood. Second, scent. Third, a girl's name.
Fourth, a cart.

  C. H. MCB.

       *       *       *       *       *

No. 3.

HOUR-GLASS PUZZLE--(_To Zelotes_).

A city in Great Britain. A city in India. A city in Switzerland. A lake
in Scotland. A letter. A city in Germany. A city in France. A city in
Russia. A city in Asia. Centrals read downward spell the name of a port
on the Mediterranean Sea.

  OWLET.

       *       *       *       *       *

No. 4.

ENIGMA.

  My first is in Paris, but not in the Seine.
    My second in simple, but not in fool.
  My third is in Frankfort, but not in the Main.
    My fourth is in labor, but not in tool.
  My fifth is in trouble, but not in grief.
    My sixth is in fortune, but not in fate.
  My seventh is in robber, but not in thief.
    My eighth is in malice, but not in hate.
  My ninth is in gymnasium, furnished with ropes and bars.
  The secret of my whole is hid in sun and moon and stars.

  TOM.

       *       *       *       *       *

CHARACTER TREES.

   1. What is the sociable tree?
   2. The tree where ships ride?
   3. The languishing tree?
   4. The chronologist's tree?
   5. The fisherman's tree?
   6. The tree warmest clad?
   7. The tree that fights?
   8. The housewife's tree?
   9. The lazy tree?
  10. The dandy's tree?
  11. The tree that supplies wants?
  12. The tree that invites to travel?
  13. The tree that forbids to die?
  14. The tree always near in billiards?
  15. The Egyptian plague tree?
  16. The tree in a bottle?
  17. The tree in a fog?
  18. The busiest tree?
  19. The most yielding tree?
  20. Tree neither up nor down hill?
  21. The tree nearest the sea?
  22. The tree that binds ladies' feet?
  23. The tree cockneys make into wine?
  24. Tree that warms cold meat?
  25. Tree offered to friends when we meet?
  26. The treacherous tree?



THROWING LIGHT.

BY E. MASON.


I am white, I am black, I am all colors save blue, green, and purple,
and all lengths, yet when I am grown I am of uniform size. I run with
great swiftness, but have no motion of my own; am carried round by my
possessor, and worn according to the taste of my owner. I don't know how
I can be worn, though the outer covering of me is put to some use, I
believe. I am very hard to tame, though gentle and timid, yet I submit
to being pulled, tied, cut, dressed, burned, without rebelling; in fact,
I might be called inanimate, though I never cease growing; but the truth
is, in a year I attain my full growth.

I am excellent eating, and esteemed a delicacy, yet should I make my
appearance in the food of a delicate person, or even of anybody, disgust
would certainly ensue. I can be dressed according to fancy, though there
is but one way of cooking me; still, I do not need cooking, except when
taken from my natural place: then I am baked to preserve me; but I am
only cooked to be eaten, not preserved; and as to dressing me, my
garment must be taken off before I can be made palatable, and that I
never am, for I can't be chewed or swallowed, though lovers of me
declare me to be a toothsome morsel.

Men hunt and persecute me, yet they do not like to be without me, and
are very apt to feel when I leave them that it is a sign of age. I can
belong to people in two ways--either by inheritance or by purchase; when
in the latter manner, every one tries to conceal the fact, and pretend
that I am a gift of nature, though extravagant sums are paid for me, as
there are fashions in me in color, and I am often dyed, though that
process would render me worthless and unmarketable.

Soft and silky, fine and coarse, harsh and wiry, of a sleek coat,
running on four legs, having no legs at all, capable of suffering and
being killed, a theme for poets, having no feeling of pain, yet dying, I
am a part of man, yet an animal.



HARPER'S YOUNG PEOPLE.


SINGLE COPIES, 4 cents; ONE SUBSCRIPTION, one year, $1.50; FIVE
SUBSCRIPTIONS, one year, $7.00--_payable in advance, postage free_.

The Volumes of HARPER'S YOUNG PEOPLE commence with the first Number in
November of each year.

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 the order.

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

Volume I., containing the first 52 Numbers, handsomely bound in
illuminated cloth, $3.00, postage prepaid: Cover for Volume I., 35
cents; postage, 13 cents additional.

  HARPER & BROTHERS,
  Franklin Square, N. Y.



[Illustration: TWO MOTHERS.

NELLIE. "Annie, the season has commenced, and we must fix up our
children's party dresses."]



THE WONDERFUL DRAWING LESSON.

BY G. B. BARTLETT.


Many years ago a very funny pantomime was performed by the Ravels, or
some other talented actors, that astonished every one who saw it, and no
one could guess how it was done. We propose first to give a sketch of
the action of the scene, and then to describe a very simple manner of
doing the trick upon which it depends. By careful attention to the
description any boy can prepare it in a few hours in such a way that it
can be often used for home and hall, and will give as much pleasure in
preparation as in performance. The pantomime requires an old man, an old
woman, and a stupid boy--the latter it is often easy to find in any
family. The old parts can be assumed by young people, as they can be
made venerable by powdering their hair with flour. They must borrow
their grandfather's and grandmother's clothes, if possible, but the boy
can wear an old dressing-gown, and the girl a long skirt trained over
her own dress, looped up at the sides with bows of ribbon; she should
have an old-fashioned bonnet, or a broad hat tied down to resemble one,
a kerchief, and a cane. The boy should borrow a suit of a smaller boy
that is too short and tight for him, and should brush his hair down over
his eyes, and wear a paper ruffle around his neck. The boy who wears the
dressing-gown or old dress-coat should also have a palette, brush, a
piece of chalk, and some other artistic implements with which to
decorate the room, which can be very prettily arranged if for a public
performance. The most conspicuous object is a large blackboard, standing
on the floor at the rear of the room, behind which another boy is
concealed, and upon which all the mystery depends. The artist is
discovered walking around the room in a nervous manner, as if expecting
a pupil. A knock is heard, and he admits the lady, who salutes him with
an old-fashioned bow in response to those with which he greets her. She
leads in the boy by the hand, who hangs back, as if very bashful. She
puts her hand behind the boy's head, and compels him to bow to the
artist, of whom he seems afraid.

The mother consoles him, and persuades him to look at some pictures
which the artist shows him. The boy expresses great interest, and the
artist points to the blackboard, as if offering to teach him to draw.
The boy seems eager to begin, and seizes a piece of chalk from the
table. The artist takes the chalk from him, and pats the palm of his
left hand with three fingers of his right, to signify that he wants some
money. The mother pays very unwillingly, and the artist keeps demanding
more, until she shakes her head very forcibly, and points to the board,
as if refusing to pay any more money unless she is satisfied with her
son's progress in art.

The boy is then furnished with chalk, and the artist holds up a pattern
before him, and points from it to the board. The boy slowly draws the
face of a man on the top of the board, near the centre. The mother seems
much pleased, and claps her hands, in delight. The boy goes on with his
work, and finishes the body, with the arms extended, and the artist then
demands, more money, which the mother refuses, when the arms which have
just been drawn move up and down with violent gestures, and the mother
becomes so much alarmed that she pays him, and the arms then remain
still. The boy goes on with his work, and draws the two legs of the
figure, which is supposed to be facing the audience.

At the completion of the work the mother and boy contemplate it with
wonder and delight, and the artist renews his demand for more money,
which the old lady refuses. The right leg then kicks out violently, the
other does the same toward the left, the arms go up and down, and the
chalk man thus appears to be alive, and to be dancing a jig, as the
movements of the legs and arms increase in speed, although they can only
swing up and down on the board. The mother and son hold up their hands
as if struck with horror, and the former rushes out of the room, pulling
the boy by the arm. The artist follows, demanding more money, and the
curtain falls.

The blackboard is made of any smooth board painted; the arms and legs of
the figure are cut out in outline of common pasteboard, and are fastened
to the blackboard by a peg, upon which their weight is balanced, and
upon which they move. The limbs are moved by means of bits of black
thread attached to them, and passing through small holes in the board to
the boy behind it. They are fastened on after the board has been
painted, and the whole is made of a uniform dull black with common
paint, so it does not show when the light is between it and the
spectators.

The boy may make the figure of the man in any style, taking care only to
match it to the limbs, the outline of which he draws on the edges of the
pasteboard profiles. A little practice will enable the performers to
arrange animals and other figures on the same plan, to the delight of
themselves and their friends.



[Illustration: OPENING OF THE FALL HUNTING SEASON--LITTLE TOMMY'S
NIGHTMARE AFTER A BUSY DAY SETTING RABBIT SNARES.]





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