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Title: Harper's Young People, May 24, 1881 - An Illustrated Weekly
Author: Various
Language: English
As this book started as an ASCII text book there are no pictures available.
Copyright Status: Not copyrighted in the United States. If you live elsewhere check the laws of your country before downloading this ebook. See comments about copyright issues at end of book.

*** Start of this Doctrine Publishing Corporation Digital Book "Harper's Young People, May 24, 1881 - An Illustrated Weekly" ***

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       *       *       *       *       *


Tuesday, May 24, 1881. Copyright, 1881, by HARPER & BROTHERS. $1.50 per
Year, in Advance.

       *       *       *       *       *

[Illustration: THE DEATH OF CARUS.]



In the days of the Emperor Caracalla the Colosseum had ceased to be used
for terrible conflicts between man and beast. But the young student
Valentinian could not forget that eighty thousand spectators at a time
had looked down from its seats, only a few years before, to see
Christian martyrs given to the lions to be torn in pieces.

And Valentinian was a Christian. The persecutions had ceased. No more
cruel Emperor than Caracalla had ever occupied the throne of Rome; but
his cruelty found its victims in his own family and among his political
enemies, and the Christians were overlooked and forgotten. Even
Caracalla may have been sick of the blood spilled in assassinations,
executions, and battle; and so, as a mere change of scene, ordered that
the sports at the Colosseum should be of a bloodless character. At any
rate, chariot races were now the vogue, the population of Rome were now
all "horsy" men, and betting was the popular way of gaining or losing
their fortunes.

The Emperor, as reigning over and above all like the air, chose white to
mark his horses; the steeds of the soldiers were designated by red
badges and trappings--red, the appropriate color of Mars, of blood and
flame; the sailors of course chose blue; and the landed proprietors,
farmers, citizens, etc., grouped under green. When the enthusiasm
extended thus to all classes, it was impossible that Valentinian should
not feel it too. He was a soldier's son, and though he felt that it
would be a crime even to enter the building in which the martyrs had
been murdered, he could not repress a throb of exultation when the
scarlet-spangled horses were led out with shoutings as victors in the

Valentinian loved a fine horse, and, boy though he was, he owned one
that had long been the envy and admiration of the different racing
fraternities of Rome. Those who knew the animal's history did not wonder
that Valentinian and his mother, the stately lady Placidia, had refused
a noble's ransom for the magnificent creature. It was the beginning of
the warm season, and Placidia had removed to her summer villa in shady
Præneste. Valentinian still remained in Rome to prosecute his studies,
but in the cool of the evening the youth would frequently drive out to
see his mother, and the horse on every such visit was certain of being
decorated with garlands by the fair hand of its mistress. On one of
these occasions Rufinus accompanied his friend. Valentinian knew that
the visit was not prompted by any fondness for his mother, for the lady
Placidia did not regard Rufinus as a sufficiently refined companion for
her son, and the dislike was mutual. He gave Rufinus credit for a
feeling of good-fellowship toward himself, and for an appreciation of a
moonlight ride to Rome. But Rufinus had a deeper motive on this
occasion; he had determined to persuade Valentinian to join in the
races, and he thought wisely that the long, solitary ride would give him
a good opportunity for persuasion. He began skillfully by praising his
friend's horse, and then spoke with some surprise of the affection that
Placidia lavished upon it.

Valentinian replied that Carus deserved all the love and distinction
that he received, for he was indeed a hero; and then he told how as a
war-horse he had followed the Roman standards with honor throughout all
the late disastrous campaign in Britain, and though he had fled with the
legions from the battle on the river Carun, where Fingal and his
Caledonian troops sang their exultant chant of victory in the ears of
the cowardly Caracalla, it was not his fault, for he was only a horse.
When Carus had felt his master, Valentinian's father, fall wounded upon
his neck, the feeble hands entwined in his mane, and the warm life-blood
bathing his glossy side, the faithful animal, who until then had rushed
on inflamed with all the fury of conflict, joined the general retreat,
and paced swiftly but carefully from the battle-field. The Captain of
the Legion, whose stiffening fingers were tangled in Carus's mane, did
not hear the loud boast of the Britons, and when Carus knelt at the door
of his tent, and other soldiers of the great "King of the World" (as
Ossian calls the Roman Emperor) lifted the rider from the steed, the
Roman heart had poured out all its blood on British soil; the brave
Centurion was dead.

At the death of his father, the Emperor Severus, Caracalla gave up the
war in Britain, and, impatient to assume his new dignities, hurried back
to Rome. The war-horse Carus was brought back too, and entered the
imperial city marching riderless at the head of its dead master's troop.
As the army approached the gates of Rome, the broad imperial highway
became more and more crowded. The return of the army was known, and the
citizens of Rome, small and great, swarmed out in vehicles, on horses,
or on foot, soldiers and slaves, the aristocracy and the beggars, old
families of Rome and foreigners.

Painfully the army forced its way through the surging crowd, attending
Caracalla, who so little deserved this enthusiastic welcome, to the
porch of the imperial palace "the house of Cæsar." Then the cohorts,
with the exception of the imperial body-guard, returned to the great
Prætorium camp outside, the city walls. One knight, a member of the
Equites that the master of Carus had so lately commanded, led the
Centurion's horse to the aristocratic street of the Carinæ, which ran
along the slope of the Esquiline Hill, until he reached a house whose
portal was decorated with laurel, and where, from the swarms of entering
guests, pastry-cooks, and musicians, one might judge a feast was in
progress. As the knight paused at the door, a boy bounded into the
street, and sprang upon the back of the war-horse, lavishing upon the
noble creature the most eager caresses. At the same moment a stately
Roman matron appeared at the door, and greeted the knight, while a glad
eager light shone in her eyes.

"Welcome, my good Galerius," said the lady. "Where is my husband? Is he
detained at the palace with the young Emperor?"

"Nay, madam," replied the knight, gravely, "thy husband was happy in
knowing no Emperor but Severus."

Then the unhappy lady knew that her husband would never come to the
welcoming feast which she had prepared, and the young Valentinian
slipped from his father's horse to hide the tears which would come, but
which he as a Roman felt were womanish and shameful.

Rufinus, though a mere cub of a young man, with very little
susceptibility, seemed touched by this story. "Where did your father get
Carus?" he asked. "He is certainly not of the common Italian breed,
neither does he resemble the light, swift African barbs."

"No," replied Valentinian. "He is a much heavier and more powerful
animal. My father captured him from a Goth at the battle of Lyons, where
his own horse had been killed under him. Some of our Roman jockeys
affect to despise the Gothic horses as big and lumpish, but they are

"They are the best horses for chariots," replied Rufinus. "The Equites
have one set of four which they will enter for the next race. They are
black as night, like Carus there, and are, so far as I know, the only
other Gothic horses in Rome. How fine they will look in their red
trappings! They are sure of winning. I have invested all my ready money
in bets, and I shall quadruple them all."

A few days later the following note was handed to Valentinian:

     "LOVED VALENTINIAN,--I am ruined. The races are lost beforehand.
     One of the Gothic horses has fallen lame. The team is pledged for
     the race; we can only supply its place with a Roman beast, for we
     know not of another Gothic horse to be obtained in Rome, and there
     is no time to send to the provinces, else would we do it, for the
     entire military order are interested; some, like myself, have
     staked their all, and now see ruin stare them in the face. We have
     sent in a petition, through the Empress Julia, to have the races
     postponed until we can obtain another horse from Gaul, but there is
     very little hope.

      "_Later._--The Emperor has refused to postpone the races; he sees
      here an opportunity to curb the rising power of the army, which he
      has long feared. If many are in my desperate condition, the tyrant
      may tremble. Does he not know that in Rome it is the army that
      creates or dethrones the Emperor? Meantime I am lost. Farewell.
      Thy frantic


A wave of pity swept across Valentinian's compassionate heart, and he
sat down to write a hopeful, encouraging letter to Rufinus. When he had
finished it, a sentence from a letter written to the Roman and other
Churches, when persecution had scattered the members of the first
Christian Church at Jerusalem, flashed through his mind: "If a brother
or sister be naked and destitute of daily food, and one of you say unto
them, Depart in peace, be ye warmed and filled; notwithstanding ye give
them not those things which are needful, what doth it profit?"
Valentinian pushed the letter from him impatiently. How could he give
Rufinus the things which were needful? He could not pay his betting
debts and those of the whole army. "What am I to do?" he asked aloud,
and as an answer a gentle neigh floated up from Carus's stable. If he
lent his horse to the military club, the reds would probably gain the
race. What could be plainer? He would have nothing to do with bets and
bribes; he would not even see the race; surely every brotherly and
Christian instinct called upon him to rescue his friend's honor and
fortune, and that of the class to which his father had belonged. Was it
because he was so very sure of his duty that he did not drive out and
consult his mother? Perhaps, instead, it was a haunting suspicion that
she might not consider this a call of duty. He gave himself no time to
doubt, or even to think, but went at once to the Prætorian Prefect with
his offer.

Carus was accepted, the Prefect in his first burst of gratitude offering
Valentinian an important post in the army. This the youth declined; his
education had another aim, and he knew that it would break his mother's
heart to see him a soldier.

The morning of the races dawned at last. Valentinian had determined not
to attend them, and when Rufinus came with a band of gay young knights,
he refused to see them. From his window he could see the populace
flocking toward the Colosseum; and finding at last that he could not
read, he determined to take a walk to the suburbs. As he passed over the
Palatine Hill, he turned to enjoy the beautiful prospect--"with palaces
adorned, porches and theatres, baths, aqueducts, statues and trophies,
and triumphal arcs." Alas! the most prominent object of all was the
"gladiators' bloody circus," just at the foot of the hill; and
forgetting all his resolutions, he hurried to it, and entered among the

He was so late that he could not find a seat in the circle near the
front, where he properly belonged, and he mounted to the upper tiers,
where he sat, crowded by such companions as beggars and slaves. He
looked for the first time upon the place where so many martyrs had
poured out their lives for their faith. He could just make out the
openings, closed with gratings, through which the wild beasts had been

His thoughts were snatched suddenly from the martyrs and the past. At
the extreme left of the arena stood four four-horse chariots ready for
the start. He could tell the colors of the horses, but not, at this
distance, that of the trappings which distinguished the class to which
they belonged. The four milk-white steeds prancing impatiently before
the gilded car must be the Emperor's, and now, as the driver mounts and
takes the reins, the roar of applause that circles around the seats
tells that Caracalla is to drive in person. There are four bay horses:
these he knows have been imported from Asia by the sailors' club; but
the horses attached to both of the remaining chariots are black, and he
can not tell which belongs to the land-holders and which to the
soldiers. The signal for the start is given. The horses will be going
away from him for the first quarter of the race, then they will approach
him for half the distance. They keep nearly the same pace, and it seems
to him, at this distance, a very slow one. Ah! one chariot has fallen
behind; it stopped suddenly; there must have been some accident. One of
his neighbors suggests that a wheel has come off; but now they can not
even tell the color of the horses. The other three chariots are
approaching, but how slowly! Surely, if he were driving Carus there, he
could out-strip them all. Nearer, nearer, and now he knows that the
chariots just abreast are drawn, the one by black and the other by white
horses. The chariot gradually falling behind is drawn by black horses
too. The merchant-men will lose the profits of their last voyage, for it
was their chariot that halted at the outset.

Now the two that are leading the way are just in front of him, and
Valentinian realizes that they are really tearing along at a fearful
rate. It is only the distance which made them appear to move slowly. The
Emperor is bending far forward, lashing his white coursers terribly. He
is driving them across the track of the blacks at his side, and is
striving to gain the inside of the track. What a cloud of dust! He can
make out nothing but a general scramble. Another loud roar echoes from
the massive walls. What a frantic waving of scarfs, and eager movement
on the seats below! Valentinian can not understand it at all, and a
slave at his side explains that Caracalla has cut across the track of
the other chariot, and overturned it on his way. Yes, there he emerges
from the whirlpool of dust, and sweeps swiftly along alone toward the

No, not alone, for though one set of black horses lie kicking and
struggling upon the sand in inextricable confusion, the exploit has
consumed time, and the other set of blacks come skimming serenely along,
their driver standing erect and motionless as a statue, the steeds
gaining, gaining upon the Emperor without any apparent effort. The
imperial jockey looks behind him, and again leans forward and lashes his
own horses more furiously: evidently he fears for the result. They are
neck to neck now, and the goal is only a few yards off. The white horses
are galloping frantically, but the steady pace of the blacks carries
them ahead by more than three chariot lengths, and the race is won. And
won by black horses. How the sun glares, for the awning does not extend
over this part of the amphitheatre. If he could only tell whether Carus
is one of the victorious four, or one of the four that are being led
away after their ignominious tumble! What a noisy hubbub! The spectators
are starting to their feet and leaving their seats. "I have lost!" "I
have won!" shout the slaves around him. "How do you know whether you
have lost or won?" he shrieks. "Have you no eyes?" bawls a sturdy
Ethiopian; "there is the color of the winners," and Valentinian, at the
end of the course, sees a flag displayed--a scarlet flag. As he hurries
down the staircases a soldier's hand is clapped upon his shoulder, other
soldiers seize his legs, and he is lifted to a seat upon their shields,
and borne unwillingly, in the midst of loud acclamations, to the course.
His giddy brain reels with all this excitement: if he can only once get
Carus and lead him away, he will never, never enter this place again.
What is this?--a crowd of men about a fallen horse. Some one is wiping
drops of blood from the animal's nostrils with a sponge; there are more
red drops upon his foam-flecked sides--no, they are only the scarlet
spangles. "Sunstroke?" asks one of the men. "Perhaps so," replies the
man with the sponge. "He wasn't used to racing," remarks the driver; "I
had to hold him in all the way, and when we stopped, he just dropped:
lucky thing he didn't do it two minutes before."

Valentinian pushed them all aside, and fell in an agony of grief upon
the neck of the dead horse. It was Carus. There is little left to tell.
Valentinian's mother did not mourn over the death of the horse as much
as her son had feared. "He has died in a good cause," she said, "if he
has taught you the evils of racing and betting. O that all the youths of
Rome might learn the same lesson!"

[Illustration: A LITTLE COQUETTE.]



There were many forms of false worship in ancient times, when the
knowledge of the one true God was preserved by the people of Israel
alone. Almost every nation had its own system, differing from every
other--its own gods, its own legends, and its own orders of
priesthood--and learned men disagree as to the manner in which these
systems grew up and spread. It is acknowledged that the worship of one
God prevailed from the earliest times in the East, which was the cradle
of the human race, until after the great dispersion, of which we are
told in the Sacred Scriptures, which took place after the Deluge.

As time rolled on, all the races of mankind, with one exception,
gradually lost the knowledge of the one God; and as the worship of some
kind of superior being is a natural instinct of the human soul, they
found objects of adoration in nature, choosing those first, probably,
which struck the imagination by their splendor or grandeur, or which
exerted the greatest amount of good or evil on the race of man.
Sun-worship was one of the earliest forms of false religion. The worship
of the moon and stars, of fire and water, was also introduced at a very
early period. In later times men came to believe in a multitude of gods,
who controlled all parts of external nature. When the thunder rolled and
the lightning flashed, they ascribed these manifestations to some god
who ruled the sky. The rising and setting of the sun and moon seemed to
indicate presiding deities of these celestial objects. The sea, lakes,
rivers, were believed to have gods of their own. The varying seasons
were thought to be under the government of unseen deities; and in this
way men at length came to believe in a multitude of gods of various
degrees of superiority to the human race.

As men without Divine revelation can not form a conception of a pure
spiritual being, they imagined their gods to possess the forms of men or
women, and even of beasts. The ancient Greeks assigned human forms to
their deities, but believed them to be superior to the weakness and
imperfections of man, and to exceed him in power and knowledge. At the
same time they were believed to have the same kind of nature as mankind.
They had human passions and appetites. Their celestial abodes were
similar in form to those of man, and like the dwellers on the earth they
stood in daily need of food and repose. Magnificent chariots, drawn by
horses or other animals of celestial breed, conveyed them through the
clouds, or over earth and sea. The clothing and arms of the gods were
fashioned like those of mortals, but of superior material and
workmanship. No heathen system contained the idea of an eternal
deity--without beginning and without end. According to most systems of
mythology, the gods were born, and some systems assigned a limit to
their duration.

The gods of Greece and Rome were all of the human form, but immeasurably
superior in size and power. The helmet of the goddess Minerva would, we
are told, cover the footmen of a hundred towns. When Juno was about to
take an oath, she laid one hand on the earth, the other on the sea. The
voices of Neptune and Mars were as loud as the shout of nine or ten
thousand men. The gods, however, could increase or diminish their size,
take the form of particular men, or of any animals, and make themselves
visible or invisible at pleasure. Their bodies were of a finer nature
than those of men, and instead of blood their veins were filled with a
celestial fluid called _ichór_. They could be wounded by mortal weapons,
but not slain. Their food was called ambrosia, and their drink nectar.

Olympus, a lofty mountain of Thessaly, was regarded by the early Greeks
as the dwelling-place of the gods; but in later times it seems to have
been elevated to some celestial region. It is thus described in the

  "Olympus, where they say the ever-firm
  Seat of the gods is, by the winds unshaken,
  Nor ever wet with rain, nor ever showered
  With snow, but cloudless æther o'er it spreads,
  And glittering light encircles it around,
  On which the happy gods aye dwell in bliss."

All the dwellings of the gods upon Olympus were of brass or copper. The
gods had different ranks and offices. Jupiter (Zeus) was king of the air
and clouds; the sea was the realm of his brother Neptune (Poseidon);
the under-world that of Pluto (Aidés). The earth and Olympus were common
property, but Jupiter as eldest brother, exercised a supremacy, and his
power was the greatest.

The other inhabitants of Olympus were Juno (Héra), the wife of Jupiter;
Apollo, the god of music and archery; his sister Diana (Artemis), the
goddess of the chase; and their mother, Leto; Venus (Aphrodité), goddess
of love, Mars (Arés), the god of war; Minerva (Pallas-Athéné), goddess
of prudence and skill; Mercury (Hermeias), the god of gain; Vulcan
(Hephæstos), celestial architect and smith, and a few others. Lesser
gods were sometimes bidden to attend at consultations on Olympus.[1]

[1] _We shall use the familiar Latin names, giving the Greek forms in
parenthesis when they first occur._

[Began in No. 80 of HARPER'S YOUNG PEOPLE, May 10.]





The port watch did as they were ordered; that is, after having put
everything in order, they stretched themselves lazily on the seats, and
let Charley and Joe manage the boat. The tide was now running up the
creek, and Joe, using one oar as a pole, rapidly poled the boat on her
way. The creek wound in and out through the meadow, and the boat
constantly ran aground, so that it was by no means easy work either to
find the channel or to keep in it. Half a dozen bridges were passed,
under one of which the passage between the piles was so narrow that had
it been two inches narrower the _Ghost_ would have found her way
effectually stopped. Charley and Joe frequently changed places, one
steering while the other poled, and thus managed to work the boat
through the creek without getting too tired. Poling a boat where the
bottom is muddy is no joke, as Joe found after he had fallen overboard
twice. There was no trouble in putting the oar on the bottom, or in
pushing the boat along, but when he tried to pull the oar out again, it
would sometimes stick firmly in the mud, and try its best to pull him
overboard. Harry and Tom did not lift a finger to help Joe out of the
water when he fell into it, because, as they said, it was their duty not
to interfere unless the Captain should call all hands. The water was not
over two feet deep, so that Joe was not in any danger, but he was not
very well pleased at the way in which Harry and Tom laughed, and he
announced that if the port watch intended to laugh every time the
starboard watch fell overboard, he should consider it the duty of the
latter to drip all over the former.

The creek now broadened into what is called Sheepshead Bay, which is
merely an arm of Jamaica Bay, and Charley ran the boat into a small
dock, where half a dozen men cheerfully helped the boys to step the
mast. The mainsail and jib were hoisted and trimmed, and the _Ghost_
began to thread the channel between the islands that are so plentiful in
Jamaica Bay. It was nearly eleven o'clock, and for the last hour a
steady sea-breeze had been blowing, that carried the boat along at the
rate of six miles an hour. Joe changed his clothes, ate a biscuit, and
enjoyed the relief from the hard labor of poling. Presently Charley
called him to take the helm while he studied the chart, in order to find
the way to the place where they meant to drag the boat across to
Hempstead Bay. The chart was of great use in helping him to find the way
among the islands in the western part of the bay; but when the _Ghost_
finally reached the broad open water, it was no longer needed, for the
houses of Far Rockaway came into sight, and served as landmarks. At
twelve o'clock the port watch took charge of the deck, and an hour later
the bow of the boat was run ashore at the eastern extremity of the bay,
the sails were furled, and lunch was made ready.

The boys had intended to drag the boat over the sandy strip of land
between Jamaica Bay and the entrance to Hempstead Bay. They had all said
that as the distance between the two bays was only a few rods, it would
be easy to get the boat across; but as yet nobody had suggested how it
was to be done. When they came to look the matter in the face, they
found that what they had proposed to do was quite impossible. The boat
would have to be dragged at least twenty rods through deep sand, and not
even a team of horses could have performed the feat. "It's no use
talking about it," said Tom; "it can't be done. If the _Ghost_ isn't
sailed into Hempstead Bay, she will never get there."

"Then she shall sail!" exclaimed Charley.

"Have we got to go all the way back to New York Bay and sail outside of
Coney Island?" asked Harry. "The _Ghost_ is a good boat, but I don't
want to go to sea in her."

"We needn't go back to New York Bay. Look at this chart. Here you see
Rockaway Inlet. The steamboats come through it into Jamaica Bay. Now
from Jamaica Inlet to the entrance to Hempstead Bay, which isn't a
regular inlet, but just a channel between Rockaway Beach and the bar
outside of it that is all above water at low tide, isn't more than three
or four miles. We'll sail back to the inlet, run out of it, and run into
Hempstead Bay without a bit of trouble. There's a good steady breeze,
and the sea is almost as quiet as the bay. There won't be the least
danger in doing it."

"All right," said Harry. "We'll start right away, and get into the other
bay as soon as possible. It looks easy enough, but we must be sure to do
it before dark."

They all went on board, and the sails were again set. The wind was
nearly ahead all the way to the inlet, and the _Ghost_ made slow
progress. They were nearly opposite the last of the Rockaway Beach
hotels, when Joe said, "I must have a drink of water."

This was a very simple remark, but it recalled to everybody the
recollection of the fact that there was not a drop of water on board the
boat. The boys had drank coffee at their breakfast and at supper the
night before, and it had so happened that nobody had wanted a drink of
water until Joe mentioned the subject. Not only did they all instantly
discover that they were terribly thirsty, but they were ashamed to find
that they had started on a cruise on the Atlantic--for after passing
through the inlet they would really be on the broad ocean--without a
drop of water.

"You made the coffee," said Charley to Harry. "Where did you get your
fresh-water from?"

"Out of two bottles," replied Harry, "that I filled with ice-water
before we started from Harlem."

"And is that all the water you intended to take?"

"Well, we didn't think much about it, I guess," Harry replied. "But we
can go ashore here at the hotel and fill the bottles again."

"Bottles won't do," said Charley. "We must have a cask of water if we're
going to cruise on the ocean. Head her for the steamboat landing, Tom,
and we'll try to get a water cask."

The only thing that the landlord of the hotel could let the boys have
was an empty ten-gallon beer keg. Before it could be used for
fresh-water, it had to be rinsed about a dozen times with cold water,
and then scalded with hot water. Even then the water with which the boys
filled it tasted unpleasantly of beer, but, as Charley assured his
companions, any water that was not positively unwholesome would be very
welcome if they were to find themselves perishing of thirst. Harry's
bottles were filled with drinking water, and with this and the beer cask
the boys returned to the boat.

"Does anybody know what provisions we have on board?" inquired Charley.

"Well," said Harry, "I can remember pretty well what we bought, for I
bought nearly everything myself, and have got the bill somewhere. Then
there is a lot of cake and sandwiches and things that we brought from
home with us the day we started."

"Would you mind making out a list of them, and keeping an account of
what we use and what we buy?" said Charley. "I'd like to know every day
just what provisions we've got to depend upon, and then I can take the
responsibility of seeing that we don't run short of food, as we did of
water. We must remember that we're making a regular cruise, and not
sailing up and down the river for pleasure."

"All right," replied Harry. "You shall have the list the first time I
get a chance to make it. I believe as much as you do in having
everything ship-shape."

They were now nearing the inlet, and Charley began to feel anxious about
the wind. As nearly as he could judge from the chart, the wind, as it
was blowing from the south-west, would enable them to sail out of the
inlet, but it was quite possible that the channel might lie in such a
direction as to prevent the _Ghost_ from making the attempt until the
wind should change. It was nearly four o'clock, the time when the
excursion steamers were starting for New York, and it was necessary to
keep a look-out for them, for the steamboat channel was narrow and
winding, and though the _Ghost_ might apparently be quite out of the
path of an approaching steamer, it was always possible that the steamer
would suddenly swing round and head directly for the sail-boat. The
steamers, however, all passed safely on their way, and disappeared as
they rounded the further point of the beach, and passed out of the

The boys were in excellent spirits, and did not feel the slightest
uneasiness about their expected sail on the Atlantic. It seemed the
easiest thing in the world to run out of the inlet, and to coast along
the beach until they should be once more in the safe shelter of the bay.
Never were boys more astonished than they were to find, when they came
within sight of the inlet, that across it stretched a line of white
breakers through which it seemed absurd to think of sailing a boat.

"That can't possibly be the inlet," said Harry. "There isn't any channel
through those breakers."

"It's the inlet, sure enough," replied Charley; "but it looks as if
there was a bar right across it."

"Perhaps the bar is put up at night, and they forgot to take it down
this morning," suggested Joe.

"How could anybody put a bar across a big inlet?" asked Tom, seriously.

"Charley means there's a sand-bar under the water," said Harry.

"Tom, did you ever see a joke in your life?" asked Joe.

"No, and nobody else ever saw a joke. What do you think a joke looks
like? Is it round or square?"

"Joe's are usually flat," said Harry. "But what's the use of talking in
this way? What we want to do is to get out of that inlet."

"Let go all your halyards, Joe, and then drop the anchor overboard.
We'll stop here awhile, and make up our minds what to do," ordered

The _Ghost_ was soon riding quietly at anchor in three feet of water.
Charley looked carefully at the line of breakers, wondering where the
channel could possibly lie. Suddenly it occurred to him that the
breakers were not caused by a bar, but by the tide, which was running
out of the bay, meeting the swell of the ocean. "There's a channel there
somewhere, deep enough for big steamboats, and if we only knew just
where it was, we'd try it," said Charley, after studying the matter for
some time.

"Shall we get through the breakers without getting full of water?"
inquired Tom.

"I don't know. I suppose we'll have to take our chances. Boats do go
through the inlet every day, and I never heard of one getting swamped."

"Let's wait here until we see some boat go in or out. We can see how she
gets through, and where the channel is," suggested Tom.

The idea was a good one, and the boys all agreed to wait. In the course
of half an hour a fishing-boat no larger than the _Ghost_ made its
appearance, coming from the direction of Canarsie, and bound out of the
inlet. The boys watched her closely, and noticed just what course she
took. When she reached the breakers, she passed through them as easily
as if she was in smooth water, only a little spray flying over her bow,
and not a drop apparently entering her cockpit.

"Pshaw! we've been waiting here for nothing," exclaimed the Captain.
"Hoist that mainsail, the port watch. Up with the anchor, the starboard
watch. Now run up the jib, Joe, and one of you fellows haul in the
jib-sheet. Look out for your heads, everybody, when the boom swings

[Illustration: AMONG THE BREAKERS.]

The _Ghost_, turning her head toward the inlet, ran straight for the
breakers. The boys had confidence in their Captain and in the boat; but
it did seem rather nervous work to sail straight into the curling and
breaking seas. Charley himself began to fear that he had made a mistake,
but it was now too late to draw back.

"Come aft here, everybody!" he exclaimed. "We must keep her head as high
out of the water as we can. Now, boys, hold on to something, and don't
be frightened. It will all be over in a minute."

The _Ghost_ was now flying with the wind and tide, and in another moment
she was in the rough water. She drove her nose straight into a curling
sea that broke on her deck with a crash as if it would stave it in. A
shower of spray flew all over the boat, and half a hogshead of water
poured over the wash-board into the cockpit. But the good little boat
did not seem to mind it. The danger was passed almost in a second, and
the _Ghost_ was now fairly at sea in smooth water, and Charley was
easing the main-sheet, and heading her to the eastward.

"There! we did it, you see," cried Charley, exultingly. "Only," he
added, "I don't want to do it again."

"We're as wet as we used to be in the _Whitewing_," said Joe; "and I'm
afraid everything on board is as wet as we are."

"Then don't lose any time in bailing her out," said Charley. "Get a
couple of tin pans and bail, while one of you pumps. We'll have the
water out in no time."

It took, however, a good deal of time to pump the boat dry, and Charley
secretly admitted to himself that had the _Ghost_ shipped another such
sea, she would have been in a dangerous situation.




  "Aunt Lena, come look at my chickies;
    They have a house all to themselves;
  It's very much bigger than Dickie's;
    They sleep in a row on the shelves."

  "And how many have you?" asked Auntie.
    "I'll count them," said dear little Bell.
  "There's Speckle, and Top-knot, and Bantie,
    And that little lame one is Nell;

  "And papa calls this _Coach-in-China_,
    The greediest one of the lot;
  And that one we named for old Dinah,
    Because it's as black as a pot;

  "And Brownie, and Whitey's her mother,
    And Yellow-legs there by the door,
  And Shanghai, and Prince, and another,
    And Graywing, and Dot, and one more;

  "And there, you see, 'way in the corner,
    Is Patsy--we call her Cross-patch--
  And Ned says she looks like a mourner,
    But I know she's going to hatch.

  "And so I have five that are hidden,
    But Patsy knows what she's about,
  And won't come away if she's bidden
    Until she can bring them all out.

  "I do hope that one is a Bantie,
    And don't you want one for Elaine?"
  "Well, how many have you?" "Why, auntie,
    I s'pose I must count them again."



"So you want me to tell you a story about a brave man, little people?"
said Colonel Graylock, as his half-dozen nephews and nieces, tired with
their afternoon's play, gathered around his arm-chair by the fire.
"Well, I've seen plenty of them in my time, but the bravest man I ever
knew was a young Ensign in our regiment, whom we used to call 'Gentleman
Bob'--and right well he deserved the name, though not as we meant it.

"Soldiering's a very different thing now from what it was in my young
days, and men have learned--what it's a pity they didn't learn
sooner--that a man may make none the worse officer for being a gentleman
and a Christian. Henry Havelock taught us that pretty fairly, but in the
rough old times it was a very different thing. Then the harder an
English officer drank, and the louder he swore, and the more he bullied
his men, and the readier he was to fight a duel or to join in any low
frolic, the better his comrades liked him, and I'm afraid we were much
the same as the rest.

"So you may fancy what we thought when a man like 'Gentleman Bob' came
among us, who was always quiet and sober and orderly, and instead of
brawling and rioting like the rest of us, spent all his spare time over
dry scientific books that we knew nothing about, and read a chapter of
the Bible every morning and evening. How we did laugh at him, and make
mock of him, to be sure! But the provoking thing was that he never
seemed to mind it one bit, and he was so good-natured, and so ready to
do any one a good turn when he could, that it certainly ought to have
made us ashamed of ourselves; but it didn't, more's the pity.

"But before long something _did_ make us ashamed of ourselves, and this
was it. Our Colonel was in a great hurry one day to find out the
whereabouts of a village that wasn't marked on his map, and none of us
could help him, when, lo and behold! forward stepped 'Gentleman Bob,'
with a neat little map of his own drawing, and there was the very place,
just where it should be. The Colonel looked at it, and then at us, and
said, grimly, 'It's not often, gentlemen, that the youngest officer of a
regiment is also the smartest: let this be a lesson to you.'

"You may be sure this reproof made us none the more merciful in talking
against poor Bob; and perhaps we might have done something more than
talk but for a thing that happened one night at mess. Our junior
Captain, a rough, bullying kind of fellow, was going to empty a glass of
wine over Bob's head, when the Ensign grasped his wrist, and overturned
the wine upon him instead, and the wrist was black and blue from that
squeeze for many a day after.

"About a month after this, one of our men, who used to have fits of
madness every now and then, from an old wound in the head, came flying
along with a big knife in his hand, slashing at everything within reach.
Some cried to shoot him, but Bob said, quietly, 'A man's life is worth
more than that: let me try.' And in a moment he had seized the fellow's
knife-hand, and tripped him so cleverly that he was down before we could
call out; and then some of the men came up and secured him.

"Of course we could say nothing against Bob's pluck after that; but all
this was a trifle to what was coming. A few days later came one of the
greatest battles of the war, and we were so hard pressed on the left
(where my regiment was) that at last there was nothing for it but to
fall back. We formed again under cover of some thickets, but even there
we had enough to do to hold our ground, for the enemy had brought up
several guns, and were giving it to us pretty hot.

"Suddenly, between two gusts of smoke, one of our wounded, lying out on
the open plain, was seen to wave his hand feebly, as if for help. It was
one of our Lieutenants, who had been harder than any one upon 'Gentleman
Bob,' and his chance was a poor one, for it seemed certain death to try
and reach him through such a pelt of shot, while if a bullet didn't
finish him, the scorching sun was pretty sure to do it.

"All at once a man was seen stepping out from the sheltering thicket,
and that man was 'Gentleman Bob.' He never looked to right or left, but
went straight to where his persecutor was lying helpless, and tried to
raise him. At first the French banged away at him like fury, but when
they saw what he was doing, several officers called out. 'Ne tirez pas,
mes enfants' ('Don't fire, my boys'), and raised their caps to him in
salute. Bob lifted the wounded man gently in his arms, and shielding him
with his own body, brought him back into our lines; and such a cheer as
went up then I never heard before or since."

"And did that horrid Lieutenant die, uncle?"

"Luckily not," answered the Colonel, laughing, "for I'm sorry to say the
'horrid Lieutenant' was no other than myself."

"Oh, uncle! were you ever as naughty as that?" lisped a tiny voice, in
tones of amazement.

"But what became of 'Gentleman Bob'?" asked an impatient boy.

"He's now my respected brother-in-law, and your papa," said the
Colonel, exchanging a sly look with a fine-looking man on the other side
of the room, who had been listening to the story with a quiet smile.
"And now that you've had your tale, go and say good-night, for it's high
time for by-by."



Grandma Meronne sat in her garden, near Morges, on Lake Geneva, telling
stories to Gustave Meronne and an American boy from the school at

"Just out there," said Madame Meronne, pointing to the shining blue
water, "there lived a boy a long time ago."

"Where, Grandmère?" asked Rob Grayson. "Over at Evian or Thonon?"

"No; just out there on the water. His house was built far out from
shore, on a sort of wooden pier, with a long narrow pathway, on piles,
leading to land. There was a whole village of such houses, built of
logs, with piazzas all around, and carefully barred up on the land side
to keep out the bears and wolves and hyenas."

"Hyenas! Oh, Grandmère! how can you?" exclaimed Gustave.

"Yes, hyenas. This was long ago, I said; and the boy's name was Palai.
He was brave and hardy from his babyhood, and even when he could only
creep, his mother had to tie a string to him, and fasten him to the
house, or he would have crept on land or into the water, for he would
not stay quiet a moment. When he could run about, his father showed him
how to make a knife out of stone, and many an hour's hard work Palai had
rubbing his knife on a great stone slab which lay in the middle of the
house on purpose to sharpen things on. His father gave him a hollow bone
of a deer to make a knife-handle, and then Palai was allowed to go on
shore, and watch the cows and sheep at pasture. He was expected to keep
off bears and wolves--yes, and hyenas, Gustave--with no weapons but a
wooden club and this stone knife, which, by-the-way, was nothing like
your knives, but more like a carpenter's chisel, as its sharp edge was
at the end instead of the side. In summer Palai enjoyed his
pasture-watching, and busied himself making more knives and spears, and
pretty beads from bones and colored stones found along the lake.

"These were Palai's pleasant hours; but in winter, when the cattle were
driven close to the lake, and Palai and other boys had to spend long
cold nights watching for wild animals, it was not so pleasant. Palai's
grandma--yes, Gustave, he had a grandma--used to tell him of the
fearful beasts she had heard of in her youth, some of which her
grandfather had seen. He had seen a bird so large that its legs
alone were taller than he, and one of its eggs held as much as a
hundred and forty hen's eggs. This was a Dinornis, and Palai wished he
could have gone bird nesting after such eggs. Then there was a great
dragon--the Labyrinthodont--which had been seen by Palai's grandma's
great-grandfather; and the Dinotherium, a beast twice as large as an
elephant, and many other fearful creatures. Palai never said 'Oh,
grandma!' when she related these wonders. He had seen the huge bones of
some of these creatures lying among the caves and rocks on the hills,
and he wished constantly to meet and kill some great animal, for he was
very brave. 'Never mind, Palai,' his grandmother said, 'these great
beasts may have left this country, but there is always something great
to be done, if one is brave.' When Palai was about fourteen, his father
allowed him to go hunting with him to kill a cave-bear--an animal nearly
twice as large as the bears we see now.

"Palai and his father each carried a club, tied to the waist by
deer-skin strings, a knife, and a long wooden spear with a stone head.
It was a great honor for a boy to be allowed to hunt the cave-bear; only
very brave men attacked this beast, so Palai felt proud."


"But he knew the danger, and that he might never come home again, so he
gave presents to all his friends and relations to remember him by. To
his mother he gave a new distaff and stone spinning weights which he had
made; to his grandmother he gave a wolf-skin to make a warm robe; and to
his friend Jurassa--a nice little girl who lived in the next house--he
gave a long string of pretty beads, which he had cut and polished just
for her.

"'I won't forget you, Palai,' said Jurassa. 'But do something brave.'

"'I will,' said Palai.

"The country was not fair and smooth as it is now; great rocks were more
frequent than grassy fields. The Bernese Alps were always covered with
snow to their very base, as the top of Mont Blanc is now; and in the
thick dark forests lived wild beasts which were as eager to find the
hunters as the hunters were to find them.

"'Palai,' said his father, 'this bear is of the fiercest; it carried off
two of our cows.'

"'I do not fear,' said Palai.

"'This is not play, like killing a wolf in the flock, or crossing the
lake in your canoe. You must kill or die.'

"'I do not fear,' said Palai, who knew that his father was trying his
courage, as was the custom among hunters.

"Two other hunters joined them, and before long they had climbed the
hills, and found the cave-bear at home. Palai's dog, a thin wolfish
creature, with long stiff hair, gave the alarm; but before they could
throw themselves behind trees, this fearful monster sprang from his
cave, and threw down Palai's father. Palai rushed forward, and struck
the beast with his club, and the other hunters shouted and struck it
with their spears, till it turned on them. Then they ran away. You can
not blame them; they thought Palai's father was dead, and it was no use
throwing their lives away. But Palai did not run. As the bear rose to
grasp him, he threw himself under it, and stabbed furiously at its
heart, killing it almost instantly, so that it fell upon him. When the
other hunters saw this, they came and dragged Palai out, nearly
smothered; and great was their rejoicing, till they found that Palai's
father, for whom he had risked his life, was dead.

"Palai's father was a kind of chief among the villagers, so there was
great mourning among the people, which prevented their being very glad
over the death of the terrible bear. But as soon as their mourning was
over, Palai learned that he was to be chief, young as he was, for no
other hunter in the village had ever tried to stab a cave-bear by
getting under it--and on his first hunt, too. Then all the people
brought to his house presents of skins and grain, stone knives and
kettles, bone beads, and woven cloths, and canoes, so that he was the
richest as well as the bravest in the village. Then his mother and
grandmother were proud of him, and so was Jurassa."

"And is that all?" asked Rob.

"That is all I know of Palai," answered Grandma Meronne.

"I never heard you tell such a queer story, Grandmère," said Gustave.
"Half fairy story, and half made up."

"No, it is not half 'made up,'" said Grandma Meronne. "When you are old
enough to read about the Lake-Villages of Switzerland, and how many
things were found in one house, you will believe me."

"But the dragons, the Laby-- _Oh_, Grandmère!" exclaimed Gustave,

"They all lived, my Gustave, as surely as you do; but their lives were
in the Neozoic Age."




The winter had been a long one and very hard. The ice on Deacon Potter's
mill-pond had been wonderfully hard, and had staid so until the first
week in March. Then it began to grow slushy, and the skating was gone,
but the winter hung round in one way and another until after the 1st of

It was just as all the old folks said, nevertheless. When so hard a
winter as that was did at last break up, it went in a hurry, and the
spring followed it like a ready-made coat, only needing to be picked out
and put on.

That was the reason why the weather was so warm the second week in May
that all the boys and girls in the class in geography at the Putnamville
Academy were glad to hear Professor Hackleman talk about the Arctic
Ocean. It was cooling and comfortable to know about such a deal of snow
and ice. It was all the better, perhaps, to sit and hear about it with
all the windows open, and a lost bumble-bee buzzing around the ceiling.

Some of the boys and girls in that class were young ladies and young
gentlemen, and could sit still and be dignified without an effort--at
least so long as Professor Hackleman turned his eyes so fast along the
benches, and sent so many sudden questions flying here and there. More
than half, however, were somewhere about the age and size of Tinker
Bradley, and nobody had ever known him sit still so long as he did that
morning. His mouth was open, too, and that was almost proof that he was
thinking of something.

Perfectly still he kept until Professor Hackleman remarked, "The North
Pole, my young friends, is a place where winter remains the year round,
and where the ice and snow do not melt--not even in May."

Tinker Bradley's mouth shut like a steel-trap, but it opened again,
almost instantly, with, "I know where it is, then; I found it last

"Did you, indeed?"

"Yes, sir; there's three woodchuck holes on the side-hill."

"My young friend, if you have found the North Pole, and know where it
is, you know more than any other living man," said the Professor.

"Yes, sir," said Tinker Bradley.

That was not the first time by a good deal that the vast extent of his
knowledge had occurred to the mind of Tinker Bradley, and when, at the
noon recess, a dozen boys of his own size asked him questions about it,
he stoutly answered: "It's just what he said it was, and it's over in
the hemlock woods north of our pasture lot. If you don't believe it,
I'll go and show you right away after school. Show you three of the
biggest woodchuck holes you ever saw, too, and a crow's nest, and a
place where there's going to be cords of raspberries."

It was enough to spoil school for all of them on so hot an afternoon as
that, and they were hardly let loose at three o'clock before there was a
small army, with Tinker Bradley at its head, marching straight away
across the green.

On they went, over the bridge and up the hill, and they were all puffing
and nearly out of breath when they reached the bars that let down into
Mr. Bradley's pasture lot.

"Now, boys," said their leader, "if we come across the brindle cow,
don't you say a word to her. She's got a calf, and she gets mad the
easiest you ever saw."

Each one of them made up his mind to let the brindled cow alone; and all
would have been well if it had not been for Soddy Corcoran's dog.

They came across the cow, indeed, and her calf was with her; but they
made a great bend to the left, and would have been safe if the dog had
made the bend when they did. They had hardly noticed that he was with
them, he was so very small, until Tinker Bradley shouted, "Soddy! Soddy
Corcoran! there goes your dog--right straight for the cow!"

"Ape! Ape! April! coom here wid ye. She'll be the death of ye, sure."

"April? Did you name him--"

"That isn't the whole of it. I've only had him six weeks. Wait till you
hear him bark. Hark to that now!"

It was not a bark; it was a growl. The little, grisly, wiry, bow-legged
mite of a quadruped was almost hidden by the tuft of grass he was
sitting in; but a bush twenty feet high could not have hidden that
growl, or the short, hoarse, gruff, threatening bark which followed it.
It was no wonder the brindled cow stopped feeding, and began to look
around her.

"Did your dog growl that growl?" asked Tinker Bradley.

"'Dade an' he did."

"There isn't room in him for such a growl as that and such a bark. The
cow can't find him."

"No more there is. When I got him I thought it was a bad cold he had,
an' it wud lave him wid warrum weather, but he's only worse. He's an
April-fool of a dog, and that's his whole name."

Again and again all that big sound was thrown at the head of the
brindled cow, and she knew it came from somewhere in the grass. She saw
the wiry-haired bit of a quadruped, of course, but she was an old
experienced cow, knowing all about dogs, and she knew the bark could
not come from him.

Those boys! She knew a good deal about boys, and she had never before
seen so many at once in that pasture lot. Her calf could be left alone
for a moment, with nothing to hurt him but a tuft of yellow hair in a
bunch of grass. She herself went at once after that Polar Expedition.

It was already running, every boy of it, as fast as its many short legs
could carry it, and the cow had no idea how triumphantly Soddy
Corcoran's dog was galloping over the grass behind her. He had no doubt
whatever but what he had scared the calf's mother, and was chasing her.

The boys made for the north fence, because it was nearest, but not all
of them would have reached it in time if the cow had not hesitated for a
moment just as she got almost among them. She stopped in her tracks,
with her head down, and right behind her, almost under her heels, again
arose that awful growl and the short hoarse bark. There was no room in
that dog for a longer bark of that thickness, but it made the angry cow
wheel to look for it.

"Woof! Ur-r-r-r-r! Woof!"

Right at her heels all the time, and nothing to be seen, however fast
she might wheel, for Soddy Corcoran's dog was determined to sit in a
safe spot, and the cow, after all, might have looked for half an hour
without hitting so small a mark.

"Ape! Ape! Sure an' ye've fooled her enough for wanst. Coom along, now."

He might not have obeyed, but the cow either thought of her calf just
then, or was frightened at having so near her what seemed to be a bark
without a body, for she suddenly ceased wheeling after it, and galloped
back across the pasture lot.

"Now, Tink, where's your North Pole?"

Three or four boys asked that question, one after another, but Tinker
Bradley stoutly replied: "Come right along. We're in the woods now. It's
only a little ways further. There's the first woodchuck hole."

There it was, sure enough, and the moment the boys saw it they began to
have more confidence, for the cow had chased some of that out of them.
In less than five minutes Tinker said, "There's the second woodchuck
hole. Maybe you'll begin to believe what I told you."

Some of them would indeed have been nearly ready to look around for
poles of some kind, but then the _north_ pole--that was another thing.

The hill-side grew steeper and steeper, with great rocks and bowlders
showing here and there among the hemlocks; and now Tinker Bradley
shouted: "There's the third woodchuck hole! What do you think of that?"

They had never seen any hole in the ground made by any woodchuck that
yawned upon them with so very wide a mouth, and it almost seemed as if
the weather must be growing cooler. Still, nobody had ever heard of
polar bears' being found in Bradley's woods.

"Here we are. I'll show you."

"Why, Tink, it's the Gulch."

"Come right along. Follow me."

So they did, and the whole procession disappeared, to its last boy,
between the jaws of that deep, jagged, gloomy ravine. That is, it would
have been gloomy if everything around it had not been so green, and if
it had been evening instead of afternoon.

Away up to within twenty or thirty rods of the upper end of the Gulch,
and then Tinker Bradley halted, with just enough of breath left to
shout: "There it is! Didn't I tell you?"

Straight before them, as they turned their eyes to the right, where he
pointed, was a great wide fissure, cloven in the rock. Above, it was
almost closed over by a leaning crag, and the upper edges, sixty feet
from the bottom, were thickly lined with hemlocks and cedar bushes.
Nobody could guess how deep it went in, for it was packed full half way
up with what was as nearly like ice as anything they had ever seen. No
sunshine could reach it. The rocks and trees protected it. It was a
great natural ice-house, and was doing its duty capitally.

"That ain't the North Pole."

"Then Professor Hackleman don't know, that's all. He said it was a place
where the snow and ice didn't melt in May."

"Woof! Ur-r-r-r-r! Woof!"

Soddy Corcoran's dog was with his master again, and had seated himself
in the shadow of a big stone to give his opinion of Tinker Bradley's

"You're right, me boy!" exclaimed Soddy. "That's one April-fool, and
you're another."

"Isn't it all there--the ice and the snow? And didn't I show you the
three woodchuck holes?"

"'Dade an' you did. It's worth comin' to see any day."

They each broke off a big piece of the North Pole to show to Professor
Hackleman. That is, they all started for the lower end of the pasture
lot, away below the cow, carrying as large a fragment of ice to each boy
as he thought he could get home with. Every piece had to be broken
smaller before they reached the bars, however, and by the time they got
home they all knew that if the North Pole is to stay frozen, it must be
left where it is, especially in May, for their share of it had melted.

[Begun in HARPER'S YOUNG PEOPLE No. 80, May 10.]





There was about five minutes of quiet, only broken by the scratch of
pens, and then Mr. Gorham went round and collected the papers.

Susie's face was very bright. Florence saw it, and bent her own still
lower, saying, inwardly: "No wonder she's happy, knowing that she'll
have every vote except the one she has written for me. If uncle could
only understand how hard it is for me to make friends, and how--"

But all thoughts were interrupted by Mr. Gorham's rising from his seat.
His face bore a surprised expression, and he looked again at his paper
to assure himself no mistake had been made.

"Oh," groaned Florence, "he thinks it strange that out of the _forty_, I
should have only _one_! If uncle wouldn't keep nodding to me!" But there
the Squire sat, gently hitting the floor with his cane, and looking one
moment at Mr. Gorham, and the next at his niece, with a most-hopeful

At length there was perfect silence in the room. The Squire had stopped
tapping with his cane, and now held it firmly down with both hands on
the heavy gold top, with his face turned toward the teacher's desk.

"I find," announced Mr. Gorham, "on counting the votes"--every ear was
strained to catch the result--"that Miss Florence has twenty-eight, and
Miss Susie twelve. Therefore Miss Florence will be our Queen." And he
turned to the astounded girl with a cordial word of congratulation.

The Squire nodded more vigorously than ever, and pounded away in a
regardless manner with his cane, but nobody heard it in the general
uproar. Some were clapping their hands, others had flocked to Florence's
seat, and were congratulating her. The young girl's face was radiant
with delight, and Susie's quite as much so.

"You bear defeat bravely," said Mr. Gorham, in his kindest tone, to
Susie. "The Squire is asking to see you."

"Ah," said the Squire, as Susie came forward, "we can't all win, you
know, my dear. I hope you don't bear Florence any ill-will?"

"Far from it," answered Susie, earnestly. "I wouldn't have it
otherwise." And she sent a loving glance toward Florence, which was as
quickly returned.

Squire Tracy motioned to Mr. Gorham, and they both stepped aside, and
after a few moments of subdued conversation the latter came forward and
rang the bell.

"Squire Tracy," said he, "has kindly offered his grounds for the May
party, so our fête will be held at Maplewood instead of the grove."

At this announcement the buzzing was louder than ever.

"Fifty times better than those old picnic grounds, where we've been all
our lives," said Josie.

"I've always been wild to get in Squire Tracy's grounds," put in Stella,

"Oh, they're grand," said Sadie. "They have four gardeners all the year
round. I went once with papa when he was attending the Squire. That's
the advantage, girls, of having one's father a doctor." And she threw
back her head playfully.

"Or a minister," added Susie, "for I've been two or three times with

Both speakers were immediately beset with questions regarding the beauty
of the Squire's surroundings, and nothing else was talked about all the
way home.

"Well, I got my reward pretty soon," thought Susie, as she waved her
school satchel to Baby, who was throwing kisses from the nursery window;
"for I should enjoy a day at Squire Tracy's more than anything I can
think of, and I shall never forget Florence's expression when Mr. Gorham
announced the good news. I never felt so like crying, but I kept back
the tears for fear Florence would think I was terribly disappointed."

And what were Florence's thoughts at the same moment?

"To think the girls really like me!" as she passed up the broad and
softly carpeted staircase; "and Mr. Gorham, too, seemed so pleased! Oh,
_how_ I shall study now! And to think uncle really patted me on the
head, and said, 'I'm delighted with you, my child!' That was the best of
all. What _will_ Bessie say when she hears it? I must begin a letter to
her this very moment," and the happy girl hummed a lively air as she
opened her portfolio. "There! I hope uncle didn't hear me." Then opening
a letter: "I must read again just what he wrote to Aunt Rebecca, and
keep it constantly in mind: 'If Florence comes to live with me, she must
be studious and quiet, for I have lived so long alone that I can not
bear the thought of a romping girl setting things topsy-turvy.' Well,
I've been that to the very letter, 'studious and quiet,' but I feel
to-day like opening the piano, and pounding away on it every college
song Ray ever sang for us; but no, 'studious and quiet,' 'studious and
quiet,'" and her pen ran noiselessly over the sheet before her as she
wrote the following letter:

     "MY DEAREST SISTER,--I have time for a few words before dinner, and
     I never wrote you in so happy a frame of mind. You know I told you
     how all the girls disliked me, and that I didn't feel any more
     acquainted with them than I did the first day. Well, I made a
     mistake, for _twenty-eight_ out of the _forty_ voted for me to be
     Queen of the May. And my opponent was Susie Kingman, the one I
     wrote you all the girls were crazy over, and who reminded me of you
     more than any one I ever saw. It seems even now as though there
     must be some mistake; but no, I remember how cordial the girls
     were, and that they didn't seem particularly surprised when Mr.
     Gorham read the result. But, Bessie, the best thing of all was that
     _uncle was there_! When he came into the room, I trembled from head
     to foot, for I only expected one vote. Dear me! the tears are
     falling all over this, but they are joyful ones. Well, uncle was
     delighted, called me 'My child,' and talked to me about school in
     the kindest manner all the way home--talked more in that quarter of
     an hour than all the rest of the time I've been here. Bessie
     darling, this is what I've prayed for--that uncle would care for me
     if only a very little, for it is dreadful to be in the house with
     mamma's own brother and have him take no notice of me, except by
     giving me money and presents; but that 'My child' was worth them
     all. The bell is ringing for dinner. I haven't told you half how
     happy I am. Uncle has offered his grounds for the affair, which
     comes off the last day of school. Will wonders never cease? Your
     ever loving


Ah! if Susie could have seen that tear-blotted letter that was kissed
and cried over by the little absent sister, she might well have said, "I
have my reward already."


PINAFORE RHYMES.--(_Continued._)


  As I walked on the beach at sunset
    A ship sailed over the bay;
  And a little girl with a poodle
    Was on the sands at play;
  But when I came back an hour later
    They all had gone away.

       *       *       *       *       *

  My beautiful ball has gone down in the hole,
  And lies there in the cellar amongst the coal;
  We shall never be able to fish it out,
  And the rats and the mice they will roll it about.


       *       *       *       *       *


        Little Annie,
        Little Fannie,
  Dance a charming minuet,
  Make a cunning little set,
  While their little sister plays,
  And the dolls' admiring gaze.
  They go tripping to and fro,
  Till their blood is in a glow,
  Turning round and round about,
  That is lots of fun no doubt
        Both for Annie
        And for Fannie.

       *       *       *       *       *


  Why, what has my pretty one found--
  An old shoe lying there on the ground?
  And what does she think she will do
  With such an old castaway shoe?

  It is in such a terrible plight,
  The cobbler would laugh at the sight.
  To drop it's the best one can do
  With such an old castaway shoe.

       *       *       *       *       *


  What is the matter with greedy Jim,
    That he should blubber and roar?
  Because he has eaten a peck of plums.
    And can not eat any more.

[Illustration: OUR POST-OFFICE BOX.]


     My uncle takes YOUNG PEOPLE for me, and I am very much interested
     in it.

     Last summer mamma and I went to Grand Isle, in the Gulf of Mexico,
     where we had fine sailing, fishing, and plenty of shrimps, oysters,
     and crabs. We sailed over to the place where it is said that
     Lafitte, the pirate, used to keep his treasures. It is a beautiful
     spot, with groves of oranges, beautiful oleanders, and quantities
     of grapes and melons. I like the bathing, and I gathered beautiful
     shells and gulls' eggs. I like Louisiana better than Arkansas,
     because there we have sea-bathing, and lots of sugar-cane and

     My brother is breaking a pony for me to ride, and I have another
     brother in Europe. He is a midshipman, and he sends me beautiful
     things, and writes to me about the pictures and palaces and ruins.
     His last letter was from Rome.

     I am ten years old, and until this spring mamma taught me at home.
     Now I go to school, and my sister gives me music lessons, and mamma
     teaches me French.


       *       *       *       *       *


     I am twelve years old, and can not walk. I have been in bed for
     nine months with inflammatory rheumatism. A great many pleasures
     come to me, though, and one is YOUNG PEOPLE. Papa has bought us
     every number published; and through all my sickness I have read it,
     or had it read to me by mamma. I read all the letters carefully,
     with much interest, and sometimes I hear of a little boy or girl
     afflicted as I am. I assure you I know how to sympathize with them.
     Mamma is writing this for me, as I have very little use of my

     I have ten chickens. They are all named. A yellow one I call
     Coachie; she comes into my room every morning and lays an egg
     behind the coal-box. I can tell which hen lays every egg; then we
     write the name on the egg, and date it. Last week papa took an old
     rocking-chair and put wheels on it, and now every day I can be
     taken to the back door and see all my chickens fed. I enjoy it,
     after being in one room for so long. My papa used to be a doctor,
     and he says when I get stronger I will be able to walk again. I
     have two sisters older than I am, but no brothers.


       *       *       *       *       *


     I think I have the earliest chickens. We have twelve that were
     hatched on March 4. We call them our inaugural chickens.

     My auntie, who lives near, has two beautiful tame antelopes. We
     have lots of fun playing with them.

     We have been gathering wild flowers here ever since the middle of
     March, and to look out on the prairie now is just beautiful.


       *       *       *       *       *


     Now that summer is near, I thought that some of the readers of
     YOUNG PEOPLE would like to know a way to dry plants. The plants to
     be preserved should be gathered when the weather is dry. The end of
     the stem only should be placed in water for a single day. Then
     arrange the plant between several leaves of stout blotting-paper,
     and pass gently over it a large flat-iron, slightly heated, until
     the moisture is gone. This will fix the color of the plant.
     Succulent thick-leaved plants require more heat than others.

     These preserved specimens should always be kept in a dry place, as
     dampness destroys them at once. They should be neatly mounted on a
     card, or on the leaves of a herbarium.

  W. E. B.

       *       *       *       *       *


     I like YOUNG PEOPLE so much, and the little letters are so nice! I
     have not seen any from this place, and my sister says she does not
     believe they are real letters, but I think they are.

     We live twenty-five miles from the Piute Indian Reservation at
     Walker Lake. There are a great many Indians here, and they work for
     the white people. I am nine years old.


       *       *       *       *       *


     I felt so sorry for Phil, in the story of "Phil's Fairies," for I
     am a cripple too. I am not so bad as he was, because I can walk. I
     think he had a nice time when the fairies came to see him. I wish
     they would come to see me. Can anyone tell me how to make a harp
     like Phil's? My sister says it is called an Æolian harp.


Directions for making an Æolian harp were given on page 310 of HARPER'S

       *       *       *       *       *


     I am going to tell YOUNG PEOPLE about our parrot. She acts as
     though she knew as much as any one. She will whistle, and call the
     dog, and will sing and cry, and call all the children by their
     names. One time we lived near a lady who had a little boy named
     Georgie. He used to run away a good deal, and his mother would go
     out and call him. In a little while Polly would call Georgie, and
     it sounded just as if the lady was calling. Polly plays out in the
     grass with us when we play tag, and enjoys it as well as we do. She
     will run after us, and halloo and scream. If any one happens to
     cough, Polly will cough and cough as if she had a bad cold.

     When I went away last summer, mamma said that Polly went up stairs
     and all around, calling and looking for me, and when I got home she
     followed me everywhere, out to the gate, and even on to the
     sidewalk. Every morning when I come down stairs she says, "Halloo."
     She came from Australia, and is about twenty-five years old. She is
     green, and has yellow on the top of her head. If anything should
     happen to her, I should feel as bad as Toby Tyler did when Mr.
     Stubbs was killed.

  K. L. H.

       *       *       *       *       *


     I think I am right in guessing that the pet of Iris and Myrtle
     Brockway is a piano.

     We, too, have a pet in our house. It is often quite musical, and
     always a great joy. It is our new little sister Maggie.


       *       *       *       *       *


     I was seven years old in April, and mamma gave me the bound volume
     of YOUNG PEOPLE for my birthday present. I like "Toby Tyler" very
     much, but I think it was real mean to make Mr. Stubbs die. I have
     named my new little kitty Toby. I live one hundred miles from
     Montreal. We make lots of maple sugar here.


       *       *       *       *       *


     I have had so many applications for my stamps that I know how to
     sympathize with Percy McDermott, I have received over sixty
     letters, and I only had stamps enough to exchange with eight or
     ten. I have increased my collection considerably by the exchange,
     but my stamps are exhausted now. Still the letters keep coming, but
     I beg correspondents not to write any more.


       *       *       *       *       *


     I want to tell YOUNG PEOPLE about our Newfoundland dog. Our aunt
     sent it to us from Columbia, 160 miles, by express. It is named
     Bruin, because it looks like a huge black bear. It is such a smart
     dog. When it hears a certain hymn sung, it comes in, lays its head
     on papa's shoulder, and howls. It won't howl for any other tune.
     One day mamma told the cook she wanted some eggs, and Bruin trotted
     off and brought one in its mouth from the nest without breaking it.
     It always brings us something, if only a pine burr, when we come
     home. I take YOUNG PEOPLE, and like it very much. We live near the
     coast in South Carolina, and we go fishing in a river near us
     called Coosawhatchie. A great many places here have Indian names. I
     have one sister, and no brothers. I am nearly ten years old.


       *       *       *       *       *


     I thought I would write and let YOUNG PEOPLE know that somebody is
     living away out here. We are only two miles from Fort Keogh, which
     is a very pretty post. There are lots of Indians camping around.
     They are Sioux and Cheyennes. They come to town every day, painted
     up in all colors, to sell their bows and arrows. There are about
     five thousand in all.

     We have twenty-eight cows, and almost all of them have calves. Two
     of the calves are great pets. One is a little spotted fellow, and
     we named it Tulip. Then we have two buffaloes and seventy-five


       *       *       *       *       *


     I have only just received a number of HARPER'S YOUNG PEOPLE which
     should have come a month ago. I suppose it was detained by the
     great floods. Omaha was flooded by the Missouri River, and a great
     many people had to leave their homes, but the water did not reach
     as high as our house. Papa took me to the river when it was so very
     high. It looked grand to see the river five miles wide, and great
     logs floating down, looking like huge whales. The wharf-men caught
     many things that came floating down. One man caught a keg of eggs,
     another two tables, two bedsteads, and a cradle.


       *       *       *       *       *


     So many have written to me for postmarks that my supply is
     exhausted. Correspondents will please take notice.


       *       *       *       *       *


     I wish to inform correspondents that I have no more copper ore to


       *       *       *       *       *

     I have changed my address. I will now exchange old United States
     stamps, for stamps from Africa, Liberia, or other foreign

  1412 Madison Street, Covington, Ky.

       *       *       *       *       *

     I have a fine lot of brown and Dominique Leghorn fowls, a quantity
     of silver-laced pop-corn for planting (it is the best and most
     productive and most profitable variety in cultivation), a fine
     assortment of fresh vegetable and flower seeds; also strawberry
     plants of all new and leading varieties. I would like to exchange
     any of the above for a small printing-press and outfit, well-bound
     books, minerals, woods, or relics, or for choice and rare seeds or
     plants. Offers from correspondents solicited. Write what you wish
     to exchange before sending.

  FRANK H. LATTIN, Gaines, Orleans Co., N. Y.

       *       *       *       *       *

     I wish to inform those who have written to me and have not received
     any answer that I have had a long fit of sickness, and could not
     write, but I will answer as soon as possible.

     I also wish to inform those who have sent for arrow-heads and have
     not received them that my stock is exhausted. If they wish to
     exchange for any other curiosities with me, I would like it, but if
     not, I will return their property, if they will kindly write and
     tell me what they prefer.

  P. A. BUTTS,
  Bemus Point, Chautauqua Co., N. Y.

       *       *       *       *       *


     I wish to notify correspondents that my stock of Danish stamps is


       *       *       *       *       *

Mamie Morris, Oil City, Pennsylvania, wishes to notify correspondents
that her supply of stamps being exhausted, she withdraws from exchange.

       *       *       *       *       *

     Having received several coins dated earlier than 1820, I withdraw
     that part of my exchange. I now offer fifteen foreign stamps for
     the little cent with the eagle, date 1856.

  40 Lawrence Street, Lowell, Mass.

       *       *       *       *       *

     I have received over a hundred stamps to exchange for Bahama
     stamps. As I had only a few Bahamas, I exchanged all I could, and
     returned the other stamps. Correspondents will please not send for
     any more Bahamas.

  Red Bank, N. J.

       *       *       *       *       *

     I will exchange postmarks for coins, or for foreign or old stamps.
     I will also exchange minerals for stalagmites, and a trilobite for
     a stalactite. I have only three trilobites, so I can not give every
     boy one.

  Portsmouth, Sciota Co., Ohio.

       *       *       *       *       *

     I will exchange a painting outfit, for a scroll-saw or a good
     printing-press; a piece of flint from Ohio, for the same from any
     other State; or Indian arrow-heads, for old cents, half-cents, or
     foreign coins.

  FRANK RAWIE, Canton, Stark Co., Ohio.

       *       *       *       *       *

     Correspondents will please take notice that my stock of lead ore is
     exhausted. I will try and get some more this summer if they will

      I will exchange a collection of 252 stamps, for a printing-press.

  Care of Rev. J. M. Compton, Rural Grove,
  Montgomery Co., N. Y.

       *       *       *       *       *

     I wish to exchange a magic lantern, with twenty-two slides, all
     packed in a strong box, for a number of good books. Correspondents
     will please state how many and what books they are willing to give,
     stating title and name of author. I will accept the best offer. I
     am twelve years old.

  P. O. Box 183, Los Angeles, Cal.

       *       *       *       *       *

     I will give twenty-five specimens of minerals, twelve
     different-sized Indian arrow-heads, twenty-two different coins,
     with paper money, 300 postage stamps, a stuffed turtle, a
     shark's-egg case, and many other things suitable for a cabinet, to
     any person who will send me a good printing-press, with chase not
     less than 5 by 7-1/2 inches, with type, etc. Please write before
     sending. Press must be in working order.

  1123 Girard Street, Philadelphia, Penn.

       *       *       *       *       *

     I will exchange my entire collection of stamps, and a stamp album
     brought from Dresden, Germany, for curiosities of any kind. My
     collection is a valuable one. It consists of stamps from nearly
     every country, including South Africa and South America. The United
     States stamps alone are worth three dollars. There are complete
     sets of War and Interior, and incomplete sets of Post-office and
     Agriculture. The whole collection contains 250 stamps and two
     foreign postal cards. Correspondents will please write on a postal
     card what they wish to exchange before sending.

  C. E. P., Box 304,
  Winona, Winona Co., Minn.

       *       *       *       *       *

     I will exchange a 1, 2, 3, 6, 10, 12, 15, 24, 30, and 90 cent War
     Department stamp, for a 1, 2, 6, 7, 10, 12, 15, and 24 cent
     Treasury Department. Also foreign stamps, for others, or for rare
     butterflies or bugs. Twelve foreign stamps, for one rare butterfly
     or one rare bug.

  522 Euclid Avenue, Cleveland, Ohio.

       *       *       *       *       *

     A few of the boys of this place have organized a club. We call it
     the American Mineral Exchange. Our club has been organized about
     three months. We have a paper called _The Young Naturalist_, which
     is published semi-monthly. We would like to correspond with any
     similar clubs among the readers of YOUNG PEOPLE; and we will
     exchange rare mineral specimens, shells from the South African
     coast, curiosities, and foreign postage stamps, for other minerals,
     curiosities, insects, or any kind of natural history specimens.
     Correspondents will please write and decide upon an exchange before
     sending specimens. Address

  P. O. Box 368, St. Johnsbury, Vt.

       *       *       *       *       *

     I have only received arrow-heads in answer to my exchange. I have
     plenty of stamps, which I will exchange for others. I have stamps
     from the Sandwich Islands, Porto Rico, Cuba, Jamaica, New South
     Wales, and uncancelled Heligoland. I wish stamps from Liberia,
     China, Japan, Ceylon, Africa, South and Central America, and other
     countries. I will give eighteen different foreign stamps, for one
     perfect arrow-head.

  52 West Nineteenth Street, New York City.

       *       *       *       *       *

The following-exchanges are offered by correspondents:

     Twenty postmarks or an old American copper coin, for every set of
     ten shells. Or a small cannon barrel six inches long, mounted on
     wheels, for a printing-press with chase not smaller than 3 by 4-1/2
     inches, apparatus, and type.

  S. D. COOPER, care of W. S. Cooper,
  Evans' Mills, Jefferson Co., N. Y.

       *       *       *       *       *

     Monograms, autographs, stones from Madagascar, and postmarks, for
     curiosities of any kind, especially from foreign countries.

  McPherson, McPherson Co., Kan.

       *       *       *       *       *

     Ocean shells and star-fish, for foreign stamps of any kind.

  P. O. Box 116, Atlantic City, N. J.

       *       *       *       *       *

     A steam-engine, for a single-barrel shot-gun in good order. The
     engine was bought only six months ago, and cost over ten dollars.
     It has been very little used, and is almost as good as new. It has
     a horizontal boiler six inches long, safety-valve, and water-gauge.
     It works well.

  H. D.,
  P. O. Box 54, Orange Valley, N. J.

       *       *       *       *       *

     Quinine bark, for foreign stamps.

  E. W. A. DE LIMA,
  36 East Fifty-seventh Street, New York City.

       *       *       *       *       *

     One hundred and ten stamps (all different) and a few duplicates,
     for a pair of roller skates. Also stamps and postmarks. Offers
     received for a scroll-saw.

  P. O. Box 257, Orange, N. J.

       *       *       *       *       *

     A scroll-sawed easel, with three hand-painted shells to fit it, for
     thirty-five stamps of St. Thomas, Mexico, Mauritius, San Marino,
     Portuguese Indies, and Porto Rico.

  97 Clarke Street, Brooklyn, N. Y.

       *       *       *       *       *

     Ten United States postmarks, for ten postmarks (no duplicates).

  319 University Avenue, Minneapolis, Minn.

       *       *       *       *       *

     Foreign stamps, for curiosities. Fifty stamps (no duplicates), for
     a genuine Indian arrow-head.

  6 East Tenth Street, New York City.

       *       *       *       *       *

     Ten and twenty paras, and two-piaster Egyptian stamps, issue of
     1879, stamps from Brazil, Mexico, and other countries, for equally
     good stamps or Indian arrow-heads.

  Lock Box 42, Little Falls, Herkimer Co., N. Y.

       *       *       *       *       *

     Five United States stamps, for one foreign stamp. Sea-weed, for
     foreign stamps or petrifactions.

  67 Fulton Street, Elizabethport, N. J.

       *       *       *       *       *

     Sixteen different numbers of HARPER'S YOUNG PEOPLE for No. 1 of the
     same if in good condition for binding. No. 1 is included in the
     sixteen, but is worn so badly at the fold that it can not be bound.

  WILLIE F. WOOLARD, Fairfield, Wayne Co., Ill.

       *       *       *       *       *

     Danish, German, Austrian, French, and United States stamps, for
     others of different kinds.

  C. Q. GILL,
  1055 Wilson Avenue, Cleveland, Ohio.

       *       *       *       *       *

     A collection of 150 minerals (about 75 different specimens), for a
     good second-hand magic lantern. Correspondents will please send a
     description of lantern, and they will receive in return a list of
     minerals, with a description.

  203 West Goodale Street, Columbus, Ohio.

       *       *       *       *       *

     Foreign stamps, for old coins.

  Brookville, Jefferson Co., Penn.

       *       *       *       *       *

     Fifty postmarks, for a specimen of either gold, silver, copper, or
     iron ore, curiosities from the Mammoth Cave, or a piece of lava.

  P. O. Box 1101, Iowa City, Iowa.

       *       *       *       *       *

     Three foreign stamps, for an African, Asiatic, Turkish, South
     American, or United States department stamp.

  W. E. M.,
  16 North Carpenter Street, Chicago, Ill.

       *       *       *       *       *

     A Brazilian silk cocoon, or fossil or crystallized stone from
     Burlington, Iowa, for a perfect No. 8 of HARPER'S YOUNG PEOPLE.

  P. O. Box 272, Oak Park, Ill.

       *       *       *       *       *

     Seven postmarks, for a stamp from Asia or Africa. Twelve postmarks,
     for a Cape of Good Hope stamp.

  2034 Diamond Street, Philadelphia, Penn.

       *       *       *       *       *

     American silk-worm eggs, for Indian relics or good fossils. An
     Indian hoe or stone hatchet especially desired. Those wishing to
     exchange will please send as soon as possible, and state how many
     eggs they wish.

  130 East New York Street, Indianapolis, Ind.

       *       *       *       *       *

     Twenty-five foreign stamps (no duplicates), or old issues United
     States stamps, for ten department stamps.

  1419 Taylor Street, San Francisco, Cal.

       *       *       *       *       *

     A New Testament in Italian (printed in 1808), in perfect condition.
     Correspondents will please make offers for exchange.

  P. O. Box 460, New York City.

       *       *       *       *       *

     Postmarks from nearly every part of the United States, also a
     variety of Internal Revenue stamps, for curiosities.

  205 Prince Street, New York City.

       *       *       *       *       *

     A Queensland, Hungarian, and South Australian stamp, for a Shanghai

  162 South Ashland Avenue, Chicago, Ill.

       *       *       *       *       *

     Soil from the District of Columbia, for toy cannons or Indian

  Lock Box 73, Washington, D. C.

       *       *       *       *       *

     An Indian arrow-head, for a South American coin. A full set of
     Department of Interior stamps and fifteen foreign stamps, for a
     flying-eagle penny of 1856.

  Cambridge, Guernsey Co., Ohio.

       *       *       *       *       *

     Birch bark from Michigan, for Indian arrow-heads, or foreign

  P. O. Box 116, Lockland, Ohio.

       *       *       *       *       *

     A stamp from Egypt, Finland, Russia, Roumania, Denmark, or Spain,
     for a stamp from Liberia, Central or South America, or United
     States State, Justice, or Agricultural Department. A stamp for a

  529 North Eighth Street, Philadelphia, Penn.

       *       *       *       *       *

     Ten foreign postage stamps (no duplicates), for a coin dated prior
     to 1830.

  167 Loth Street, Cincinnati, Ohio.

       *       *       *       *       *

A. A.--Zaleucus, about whose law or code you inquire, flourished in
Magna Græcia about the middle of the seventh century B.C. He was a very
celebrated lawgiver, and his code is believed to be the first collection
of written laws which the Greeks possessed. Nothing is known concerning
his private life or of his legislation except through very loose and
uncertain tradition, but from this it would appear that his laws must
have been more stringent than the famous "blue" laws of the Puritans.
Journeys to foreign countries were strictly forbidden, as was also the
use of unmixed wine. There was also a very hard condition imposed on any
one who wanted to propose a new law, or to change or abolish an old one.
According to tradition, such a person was compelled to make his proposal
in the presence of an assembly called for the purpose of hearing him,
and he stood there with a rope around his neck. If the assembly
disapproved of his proposition, he was strangled on the spot. In this
way Zaleucus, who probably thought that his code was perfect, no doubt
believed that he could secure the permanence of his laws.

       *       *       *       *       *

EDWARD H. P., AND OTHERS.--An advertisement of roller skates was printed
on the last page of the cover to YOUNG PEOPLE No. 79, which will tell
you where to address orders or send for catalogues. Roller skates can be
used with safety on smooth pavements only; and children who use them on
crowded streets must be very careful about running against people,
especially in turning corners, in order to avoid accidents.

       *       *       *       *       *

WALTER B. H.--Letters to the Post-office Box of HARPER'S YOUNG PEOPLE
are always welcome, and the privilege of sending them is not confined to
subscribers to the paper.

       *       *       *       *       *

Correct answers to puzzles have been received from J. Minon, J. Reagan,
C. Mullen, J. Foran, C. Gill, R. Smith, D. Nolan and Riley, Marcella
Street Home, T. M. Armstrong, E. V. H. A., _Addie_ and _Arthur_, Jemima
Berston, _Ray B._, Jessie B. Brown, Jacob Bonds, Courtney Chambers,
A. E. Cressingham, G. W. C., Jun., and G. W. C., Sen., George F. C.,
Columbus, Georgia, E. A. Cartereau, "Cupid," Laura L. Deletombe, Ellis
Engleman, "Fish-Hawk," Henry Gottlieb, F. W. Gauss, Herbert G. Hopkins,
R. Hedges, Alice C. Hammond, William B. Hadley, Walter P. Hills, "_Lady
Betty_," "_Lodestar_," W. A. Lewis, Bessie and Edith Nesbitt,
"_Pepper_," Grace Palmer, "Quadrant," J. H. Rodgers, G. P. Salters, Alma
T. Stacey, "Tel E. Graph," Mabel Thompson, _Howard J. Van Doren_, Claude
Villier, Vesta and Annie, "Will A. Mette," L. and M. Williams, J. F.
Wright, Willie F. Woolard.

       *       *       *       *       *


No. 1.


1. A species of grain. A characteristic of the tropics. To corrode. A
preposition. In tray.

2. An animal. A metal. What every boy is. A preposition. In nail.


       *       *       *       *       *

No. 2.


A river in South America. A city in Egypt. A river in Italy. A group of
islands in the Atlantic Ocean. A river in Austria. A city in Germany. A
letter. A river in Switzerland. A peninsula in Asia. Centrals.--The name
of a noted strait.


       *       *       *       *       *

No. 3.


  First in coffee, not in tea.
  Second in arm, but not in knee.
  Third in city, not in town.
  Fourth in coat, but not in gown.
  Fifth in kettle, not in pot.
  Sixth in house, but not in lot.
  Seventh in different, not in same.
  My whole a well-known out-door game.

  G. P. S.

       *       *       *       *       *

No. 4.


A verse from a celebrated poem by an American poet:



       *       *       *       *       *

No, 5.


  1. I am composed of 14 letters, and am an institution of learning.
  My 8, 2, 3, 4, 12 is to cut.
  My 1, 5, 6, 14 is a small animal.
  My 8, 9, 10, 7 is never warm.
  My 11, 5, 13 is to loiter.


  2. I am composed of 10 letters, and am the product of trees.
  My 10, 5, 9, 4 is a Spanish coin.
  My 8, 7, 1 is the product of certain trees.
  My 6, 2, 3 is what my whole is made from.


       *       *       *       *       *


No. 1.


No. 2.

1. Bookworm. 2. Conflagration.

No. 3.

  B A L E   F R E D
  A R A L   R A T E
  L A M B   E T N A
  E L B E   D E A R

  P A L M   H U G H
  A W A Y   U G L Y
  L A S T   G L U M
  M Y T H   H Y M N

No. 4.


No. 5.

1. April showers bring May flowers. 2. Mr. Stubbs.


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.

  Franklin Square, N. Y.


  These jolly young people are Hessian,
  Who say, "Let us have a procession;
    And if 'Dress makes the man,'
    Let us do what we can
  To make a most pleasing impression."


BY E. M.

I am little, but powerful for both good and evil; in fact, I am one of
the moving powers of the earth. Thousands of me can be contained in a
small space, but I alone, of all my race, was famous and deserving of
remembrance in history. I need a great deal of space to make even one of
me; and as for history remembering me, I fulfill my purpose; my
boundaries are torn down, no one would know I had ever existed, and
indeed I am no loss. I can be replaced at the cost of a cent, some of me
are worth many dollars, yet I require the outlay of time and strength
rather than money. I was unique, a man both feared and loved, credited
with being a trifle thrifty, yet one who did noble work, and my name is
known wherever the English language is spoken. My master could not force
me to comply with his wishes. I am nothing but dull earth, metal, or
part of a bird; have no wishes, thoughts, or desires; yet a child or an
invalid even can through means of me exert tremendous power.

I make or mar men's lives; I can't make or mar anything; I am only used
as a sort of store-house; my precepts have weight to this day. I can be
made to express anything--precepts worth remembering, and sayings that
should never have had utterance. I am square or long, broad or narrow,
pointed or dull; the bigger I am, the better; the smaller I am, the
finer. I was of medium size, and used myself a great deal. I could not
possibly use myself; am only a means, not an instrument; am neither
means nor instrument--only exist. I died, and was regretted; yet can not
die, not being animate. I was generally praised, though a late brilliant
historian made very savage remarks about me; yet but for me that same
brilliant historian would not have been. He probably never saw any of me
in his life, yet I was his constant companion. Yellow, white, bronze,
made of gold, silver, metal, and earth, yet I was, after all, a famous
man, and the world's benefactor.

       *       *       *       *       *

=The Barrel Trap.=--This most ingenious device possesses great advantages
in its capabilities of securing an almost unlimited number of rats in
quick succession. It also takes care of itself, requires no re-baiting
or setting after once put in working order, and is sure death to its
prisoners. A water-tight barrel is the first thing required. Into this
pour water to the depth of a foot. Next dampen a piece of very thick
paper, and stretch it over the top of the barrel, tying it securely
below the upper hoops. When the paper dries, it will become thoroughly
flat and tightened. Its surface should then be strewn with bits of
cheese, etc., and the barrel so placed that the rats may jump upon it
from some neighboring surface. As soon as the bait is gone, a fresh
supply should be spread on the paper, and the same operation repeated
for several days, until the rats get accustomed to visit the place for
their regular rations fearlessly and without suspicion. The bait should
again be spread as before, and a few pieces of the cheese should be
attached to the paper with gum. It is a good plan to smear parts of the
paper with gum-arabic, sprinkling the bait upon it. When dry, cut a
cross in the middle of the paper, and leave the barrel to take care of
itself and the rats. The first one comes along, spies the tempting
morsels, and with his accustomed confidence jumps upon the paper. He
suddenly finds himself in the water at the bottom of the barrel, and the
paper above has closed, and is ready to practice its deception on the
next comer. There is not long to wait. A second victim soon tumbles in
to keep company with the first. A third and a fourth soon follow, and a
dozen or more are sometimes thus entrapped in a very short space of
time. It is a most excellent and simple trap. By some it is considered
an improvement to place in the bottom of the barrel a large stone, which
shall project above the water sufficiently to offer a foot-hold for one
rat. The first victim, of course, takes possession of this retreat, and
on the precipitate arrival of the second, a contest ensues for its
occupancy. The hubbub which follows is said to attract all the rats in
the neighborhood to the spot, and many are thus captured.


  My first is as bad as my second,
    My second's as bad as can be;
  My whole is the most famous sailor
    That ever sailed over the sea.

[Illustration: When Johnnie's father asked him how he liked the new
horse, he replied. "Oh, papa, he's real tame in front, but awful wild
behind!" (He didn't see the boys behind the fence.)]

[Illustration: VANITY.]

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