{"collection":"myth-cosmogony","full_text_available":true,"graph_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/api/page/gutenberg_29016/graph","html_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/page/gutenberg_29016","id":"gutenberg_29016","license":"Public Domain (US)","rights_basis":"gutenberg_metadata_copyright_false","source":"gutenberg","source_url":"https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/29016","summary":null,"tags":["Category: Adventure","Category: Children & Young Adult Reading","Category: Mythology, Legends & Folklore","Children's periodicals, American","Harper's Young People"],"text":"Produced by Annie McGuire\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n[Illustration: HARPER'S\n\nYOUNG PEOPLE\n\nAN ILLUSTRATED WEEKLY.]\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nVOL. I.--NO. 35. PUBLISHED BY HARPER & BROTHERS, NEW YORK. PRICE FOUR\nCENTS.\n\nTuesday, June 29, 1880. Copyright, 1880, by HARPER & BROTHERS. $1.50 per\nYear, in Advance.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\n\n\n\n[Illustration: A SOUP EXPLOSION.]\n\n[Begun in YOUNG PEOPLE No. 31, June 1.]\n\nTHE MORAL PIRATES.\n\nBY W. L. ALDEN.\n\n\nCHAPTER V.\n\nIt was a terrific storm. The wind swept down the river, raising a ridge\nof white water in its path. The rain came down harder, so the boys\nthought, than they had ever seen it come down before, and the glare of\nthe lightning and the crash of the thunder were frightful.\n\n\"What luck it is that we got the tent pitched in time!\" exclaimed Joe.\n\"We're as dry and comfortable here as if we were in a house.\"\n\n\"Pick your blankets up quick, boys,\" cried Harry. \"Here's the water\ncoming in under the tent.\"\n\nJoe had boasted a little too soon. The water running down the side of\nthe hill was making its way in large quantities into the tent. To save\ntheir clothes and blankets the boys had to stand up and hold them in\ntheir arms, which was by no means a pleasant occupation, especially as\nthe cold rain-water was bathing their feet.\n\n\"It can't last long,\" remarked Tom. \"We're all right if the lightning\ndoesn't strike us.\"\n\n\"Where's the powder?\" asked Harry.\n\n\"Oh, it's in the flask,\" replied Joe, \"and I've got the flask in my\npocket.\"\n\n\"So, if the lightning strikes the tent, we'll all be blown up!\"\nexclaimed Harry. \"This is getting more and more pleasant.\"\n\nThe boys were not yet at the end of their troubles. The rain had\nloosened the earth, and the tent-pins, of which only four had been used,\ncould no longer hold the tent. So, while they were talking about the\npowder, the tent suddenly blew down, upsetting the boys as it fell, and\nburying them under the wet canvas.\n\n\"Lie still, fellows,\" said Tom, as the other boys tried to wriggle out\nfrom under the tent. \"We've got to get wet now, anyway; but perhaps, if\nwe stay as we are, we can manage to keep the blankets dry.\"\n\nThe wet tent felt miserably cold as it clung to their heads and\nshoulders, but the boys kept under it, and held their blankets and spare\nshirts wrapped tightly in their arms. Luckily the storm was nearly at an\nend when the tent blew down, and a few moments later the rain ceased,\nand the crew of the _Whitewing_, in a very damp condition, crept out and\ncongratulated themselves that they had escaped with no worse injury than\na wet skin.\n\n\"Where are the rubber blankets?\" asked Harry.\n\n\"Rolled up with the other blankets,\" answered everybody.\n\n\"It won't do to tell when we get home,\" remarked Harry, \"that instead of\nusing the water-proof blankets to keep ourselves dry, we used ourselves\nto keep the water-proofs dry. It's the most stupid thing we've done yet;\nand I'm as bad as anybody else.\"\n\n\"It was a good deal worse to pitch a tent without digging a trench\naround it,\" said Tom. \"If I'd dug a trench two inches deep just back of\nthat tent, not a drop of water would have run into it.\"\n\n\"And I don't think much of the plan of using only four pins to hold a\ntent down when a hurricane is coming on,\" said Joe.\n\n\"And I think the least said by a fellow who carries two pounds of powder\nin his pocket in a thunder-storm, the better,\" added Jim.\n\nIt took some time to bail the water out of the boat, for the rain and\nthe spray from the river had half filled it. But the shower had cooled\nthe air, and the boys were glad to be at work again after their\nconfinement in the tent. They were soon ready to start; and rowing\neasily and steadily, they passed through the Highlands, and reached a\nnice camping spot, on the east bank of the river below Poughkeepsie,\nbefore half past five.\n\nThis time they selected a place to pitch the tent with great care. It\nwas easy to find the high-water mark on the shore, and the tent was\npitched a little above it, so as to be safe from a disaster like that of\nthe previous night. Harry wanted it pitched on the top of a high bank;\nbut the others insisted that, as long as they were safe from the tide,\nthere was no need of putting the tent a long distance from the water,\nand that they had selected the only spot where they could have a bed of\nsand to sleep on.\n\nThis important business being settled, supper was the next subject of\nattention.\n\n\"We haven't been as regular about our meals as we ought to be,\" said\nHarry, \"but it hasn't been our fault. We'll have a good supper to-night,\nat any rate. How would you like some hot turtle soup?\"\n\n\"Just the thing,\" said Joe. \"The bread is beginning to get a little dry;\nbut we can soak it in the soup.\"\n\n\"About going for milk,\" continued Harry; \"we ought to arrange that and\nthe other regular duties. Suppose after this we take turns. One fellow\ncan pitch the tent, another can go for milk, another can get the\nfire-wood, and the other can cook. We can arrange it according to\nalphabetical order. For instance, Tom Schuyler pitches the tent\nto-night, Jim Sharpe goes for milk, Joe gets the fire-wood, and I cook.\nThe next time we camp, Jim will pitch the tent, Joe will get the milk, I\nwill get the wood, and Tom will cook. Is that fair?\"\n\nThe boys said it was, and they agreed to adopt Harry's proposal. Jim\nwent off with the milk pail, and when the fire was ready, Harry took a\ncan of soup and put it on the coals to be heated.\n\nJim found a house quite near at hand, where he bought two quarts of milk\nand a loaf of bread, and was back again at the camp before the soup was\nready. He found the boys lying near the fire, waiting for the soup to\nheat and the coffee to boil.\n\n\"That soup takes a long time to heat through,\" said Tom. \"There isn't a\nbit of steam coming out of it yet.\"\n\n\"How can any steam come out of it when it's soldered up tight?\" replied\nHarry.\n\n\"You don't mean to tell me that you've put the can on the fire without\npunching a hole in the top?\"\n\n\"Of course I have. What on earth should I punch a hole in it for?\"\n\n\"Because--\" cried Tom, hastily springing up.\n\nBut he was interrupted by a report like that of a small cannon: a cloud\nof ashes rose over the fire, and a shower of soup fell just where Tom\nhad been lying.\n\n\"That's the reason why,\" resumed Tom. \"The steam has burst the can, and\nthe soup has gone up.\"\n\n\"We've got another can,\" said Harry, \"and we'll punch a hole in that\none. What an idiot I was not to think of its bursting! It's a good thing\nthat it didn't hurt us. I should hate to have the newspapers say that we\nhad been blown up and awfully mangled by soup.\"\n\nThe other can of soup was safely heated, and the boys made a comfortable\nsupper. They drove a stake in the sand, and fastened the boat's painter\nsecurely to it, and then \"turned in.\"\n\n\"No tide to rouse us up to-night, boys,\" said Harry, as he rolled\nhimself in his blanket. \"I sha'n't wake up till daylight.\"\n\n\"We'd better take an early start,\" remarked Tom. \"We haven't got on very\nfar, because we started so late this morning. If we get off by six every\nmorning, we can lie off in the middle of the day, and start again about\nthree o'clock. It's no fun rowing with the sun right overhead.\"\n\n\"Well, it isn't more than eight o'clock now; and if we take eight hours'\nsleep, we can turn out at four o'clock,\" said Harry. \"But who is going\nto wake us up? Joe and Jim are sound asleep already, and I'm awful\nsleepy myself. I don't believe one of us will wake up before seven\no'clock anyway.\"\n\nTom made no answer, for he had dropped asleep while Harry was talking.\nThe latter thought he must be pretending to sleep, and was just\nresolving to tell Tom that it wasn't very polite to refuse to answer a\ncivil question, when he found himself muttering something about a game\nof base-ball, and awoke, with a start, to discover that he could not\npossibly keep awake another moment.\n\nThe boys slept on. The moon came out, and shone in at the open tent\nflap, and the tide rose to high-water mark, but not quite high enough to\nreach the tent. By-and-by the wheezing of a tow-boat broke the\nstillness, and occasionally a hoarse steam-whistle echoed among the\nhills; but the boys slept so soundly that they would not have heard a\nlocomotive had it whistled its worst within a rod of the tent.\n\nThe river had been like a mill-pond since the thunder-storm, but about\nmidnight a heavy swell rolled in toward the shore. It came on, growing\nlarger and larger, and rushing up the little beach with a fierce roar,\ndashed into the tent and overwhelmed the sleeping boys without the\nslightest warning.\n\n[TO BE CONTINUED.]\n\n\n\n\nTHE OLD, OLD TOAD.\n\nBY MRS. E. W. LATIMER.\n\n\n\"Mamma,\" said one of my boys to me (they are \"grown-up boys,\" but they\ntake great pleasure in the weekly arrival of the YOUNG PEOPLE), \"why\ndon't you write a communication to the editor, and tell him how papa\nonce saw a live toad in a slab of rock that had just been blasted?\"\n\n\"Perhaps the editor would not believe me,\" I replied. \"It seems a\ndoubtful point among geologists and naturalists, and he says the fact\nhas never been certified to by any scientific man.\"\n\n\"Well, wasn't papa a man of science?\"\n\n\"No; he was a young civil engineer, with only science enough to be\nemployed on the first surveys and construction of the Baltimore and Ohio\nRailroad. But he is one of the most accurate observers I have ever seen,\nand so careful in his statements that, as you know, he relates even a\ncommon fact as cautiously as if he were giving evidence in a court of\njustice.\"\n\n\"Well, I should like to hear it over again. Tell me the story.\"\n\n\"Your father was, as I said, a young engineer superintending the\nconstruction of the line of road west from Sir John's Run, near Berkeley\nSprings, in West Virginia. His men were engaged in blasting a mass of\nvery hard rock--gneiss, he called it--which ran across the line. Coming\nup to where they were at work, immediately after a fresh blast, he found\nthe block that had just been detached lying on the ground. It was a mass\nof stone about as large as the chair you are sitting on; the surface\nwhere it had just been severed from the parent rock was perfectly\nsmooth, except that about the middle of it appeared a reddish blister,\nabout the size of half an egg. This attracted your father's notice. He\nwas curious to see what it could mean, and taking up a hammer that was\nlying near, he tapped upon it gently. It cracked like an egg-shell, and\nout came a toad, which moved rather feebly, was very weak,\nextraordinarily thin, and covered with a sort of red rust. He did not,\nhowever, live more than a few minutes. Whether the blow with the hammer\nhad hurt him, or whether the fresh air was too much for him, nobody ever\nknew. He died, and there being no professional naturalist on the spot,\nhis body was not preserved. The men of the gang gathered around his\ndeath-bed, and the contractor had some marvellous stories to tell of\nthings of the kind he had met with in his experience.\n\n\"The spot where the toad lay in the slab of rock was probably, your\nfather thought, about five feet from the surface, but he could not say\nwith certainty. He was sure there was no fissure or opening in it\ncommunicating with the outer air.\"\n\n\"I should think, mamma, you would be glad the readers of YOUNG PEOPLE\nseem to be taking an interest in your friends the toads.\"\n\n\"So I am. I liked and protected them, for the sake of their beautiful\neyes, long before I found out how useful they are in a garden. You\nrecollect I used to tell you of a lady who had a splendid bed of\nmignonette one year, and the next had no mignonette at all, because her\ncruel gardener had killed off all the toads?\n\n\"A toad's eyes are the only things in nature which could not be\nrepresented without using gold. I fancy that the toad's eyes are the\norigin of the superstition about the 'precious jewel in his head.' As to\ntheir being poisonous, as the French peasants say, or making warts, as\nthe old mammies tell us, that is pure nonsense. I have handled hundreds\nof them. Their tongues are as curious as their eyes are beautiful. The\nroot of the tongue is just behind the under lip, and it folds backward.\n\n\"When Mr. Toad sees a fly, he darts his long and active tongue out so\nquickly that it is hard to see him do it, and jerks the fly alive down\nhis wide gullet.\n\n\"Do you remember watering Darby and Joan, who have lived twenty years\nunder our porch, when you were little boys? You thought they seemed to\nenjoy a rain so much that you would give them a shower. Poor Darby and\nhis wife realized the proverb, 'It never rains but it pours.' A gentle,\nsteady rain was agreeable enough; but you floated them out of house and\nhome, and I do not think they ever resettled in the same spot.\n\n\"There is a charming story about a toad, called Monsieur le Vicomte.\"\n\n\n\n\nELM COTTAGE.\n\nBY M. M.\n\n\n  Now is the time when hither and yon\n    Our city-people run\n  Seeking a home. And here, close by,\n    Is the prettiest under the sun.\n\n  So dainty it is, so cozy and fresh,\n    Its walls in a marvellous way\n  Are covered all over with tapestry\n    In yellow and green and gray.\n\n  The ceiling is frescoed in light and shade,\n    And the cottage stands so high\n  That the view extends to the mountains dim,\n    Whose peaks are lost in the sky.\n\n  No window it has, but an open door\n    Invites one to sweetest rest;\n  For my wee house, perched on a swaying elm,\n    Is only an oriole's nest.\n\n\n\n\nHOW DO THEY GROW?\n\n\n[Illustration: LITTLE JENNIE AND THE GARDENER.]\n\nWhile the children were waiting for the Professor one bright summer\nmorning, they overheard through the open window little Jennie asking\nJohn Grant, the gardener, \"Where do the flowers come from?\"\n\n\"Why, don't you see?\" said he; \"they grow up out of the ground.\"\n\n\"How do they grow?\" continued the little questioner, whose curiosity was\nclearly on the increase.\n\nBefore John could collect his wits sufficiently to frame an answer, the\nProfessor made his appearance with a pretty rose-bud in his hand.\n\n\"Will you not tell us,\" said Gus, \"how flowers grow? There's John out\nthere digging among them all day, but he seems to know nothing about\nthem, after all.\"\n\n\"Oh yes, he does,\" said the Professor; \"I presume he knows more about\nthem, in a practical way, than either you or I. He can take care of them\nthrough the winter, and train them, and get them early into bloom, far\nbetter than I could, I am sure. But very likely I know more of what the\nbooks have to say on the subject, and can more readily find words to\nexpress what is called the theory in the case. The growth of plants has\ngiven rise, perhaps you know, to the science of botany.\"\n\n\"Please don't be very scientific,\" pleaded Gus, \"but tell us in a plain\nway how they grow.\"\n\n\"Well, let us begin with the seed. In the first place, the sun warms the\nground in which the seed lies buried. Then the seed swells and bursts,\nand sends downward a little root; the root drinks in the water from the\nsoil, and so gets larger, and spreads around; and by-and-by it sends up\na stem above the ground. As soon as the sunlight falls on the little\nplant, it gets stronger, and is able to take food as well as drink from\nthe soil, so as to get its full shape and size and green color.\"\n\n\"Has it a mouth to eat and drink with?\" asked Gus, in some doubt.\n\n\"Yes, a great many mouths scattered all over the root, or on very little\nbranches reaching out from it. While it is under-ground in the dark, it\nis thirsty, and cares only to drink water; but as soon as it comes up,\nand has enjoyed the light and heat of the sun, it begins to get hungry,\nand takes in solid food with the water. The fresh air and sunshine\nsharpen its appetite, just as they do in our case.\"\n\n\"The little spring flowers seem to come up so suddenly,\" said Joe, \"as\nif they did all their growing in one night. We don't see them at all\nuntil they are standing in full bloom.\"\n\n\"It takes them some days to develop and blossom,\" said the Professor.\n\"The stem rises slowly from a little point, getting longer and longer,\nuntil it reaches its full size. Shrubs and trees begin in the same way,\nmounting upward until they reach their proper height. If you examine the\nground closely, you will find plenty of little plants just peeping out.\nMost of them are grass, and keep on about the same as they begin; but\nsome change very greatly, and take all kinds of shapes and directions.\nThey soon put out their leaves, one by one, or two by two, along the\nstem, short spaces apart. Just above the leaves, in the larger plants,\nbranches start out, and grow much like the stem, with their own leaves.\"\n\n\"How do the flowers come?\" asked Gus.\n\n\"Sometimes they grow on a little stem of their own, called a scape, that\nsprings up separately from the root. But usually the main stem or one of\nthe branches is changed into a flower-stem. Now suppose we cut this\nrose-bud in two, and then I can show you.\"\n\n\"Please, Professor,\" said May, \"don't cut the poor rose-bud. There is a\nbook down stairs with one in it cut in two.\"\n\n[Illustration: ROSE-BUD CUT VERTICALLY.]\n\nGus brings the book, and the Professor exclaims, \"That is what I want\nexactly. Here are lines pointing to the parts; and now I'll explain\nthem. You see, S is the sepals.\"\n\n\"What are they?\" asked Joe.\n\n\"The sepals are the outer covers of the flower. They lie all over and\nhide it when it is in the bud, but are folded back when the bud opens.\nThere are five, which is a very common number for flowers to have. Some\nhave only two or three, others none at all. The petals are marked L.\nThey are the gayly colored parts that lie next to the sepals, and inside\nof them. Sometimes the petals are separate from each other, and\nsometimes all fastened together. They are also called the corolla, which\nmeans a little crown, and are the showiest portion of the flower. Wild\nflowers are apt to have only one row of petals, but those cultivated in\ngardens often have a large number. The good care that they get has the\neffect to make them deck themselves out with more petals, which are the\nparts chiefly admired for their brilliancy.\"\n\n\"What are these little threads near the middle?\" asked Joe.\n\n\"They are called stamens. In the picture they are marked P. Inside of\nthem, in the very centre, is what are called the pistils, T. Down below\nthem are the seeds, in the middle of what becomes the fruit, as you have\nnoticed in an apple or pear, which is somewhat like a rose when ripe,\nthough very much larger. After the petals have fallen off the rose, the\npart that is left gets ripe with the seeds inside, just as if it were an\napple or a pear.\"\n\n\n\n\n[Illustration: FISHERMAN'S LUCK.]\n\n\n\n\nMISS PAMELA PLUMSTONE'S PIANO.\n\nBY SYDNEY DAYRE.\n\n\n\"What do you say to Ned's taking a ride up to Miss Pamela's to-morrow?\"\nsaid Mr. Weatherby to his wife.\n\n\"How? All by himself? A ride of twenty miles?\"\n\n\"On horseback. Yes. Yes. Does that answer your three questions\nsatisfactorily? Now _I'll_ ask one. Why not?\"\n\n\"Oh, I suppose there is no objection, only he has never taken such a\nlong ride alone.\"\n\n\"Why, mother! I, a great fellow of fourteen! Of course I can go--that\nis, please let me. What for, father?\"\n\n\"I have had a little dividend of fifty dollars paid in on Miss Pamela's\nmorsel of horse-railway stock, and I know she always wants money as soon\nas it comes.\"\n\n\"Probably much sooner, poor soul--\" said Mrs. Weatherby.\n\n\"Unlike most other people, eh, ma'am?\" interrupted Mr. Weatherby.\n\n\"--and more than ever now, since she has taken those two girls of her\ngood-for-nothing brother's. If they had been boys, they might have been\nsome use on her mite of a farm. When I said so to her, she said: 'Yes,\nmy dear, that's just the reason their mother's family don't want them;\nbut, you know, girls have to live as well as boys. We're pretty sure of\ngetting enough to eat, and as for the rest, I believe the Lord will\nprovide.'\"\n\n\"Her faith will be rewarded just now,\" said Mr. Weatherby, \"for this is\nan unlooked-for dividend. The road has been doing better than usual of\nlate.\"\n\n\"I'm very glad,\" said his wife. \"I dare say it will be a real godsend to\nthem all.\"\n\n\"I'll be off early in the morning,\" said Ned.\n\n\"All alone, and carrying money!\" said his brother Tom, with an ominous\nshake of the head.\n\nNed _did_ feel a little like a hero as he started on his long ride\nthrough a thinly settled country, and over a road passing through miles\nof thick woods. His suggestion that it might be well to carry a revolver\nhad been smiled at by his father, and frowned down by his mother, and he\nhad to confess to himself that he felt a little safer without it. His\nhalf-desire for just a trifling adventure was not to be gratified, for\nas noon approached he drew near Miss Pamela Plumstone's quaint old\nfarm-house, and was soon warmly welcomed by that sprightly lady.\n\n\"Why, Master Ned, I _am_ delighted! How good of you! Didn't you find the\nroads very bad? And how _is_ your mother and the twins? And has your\nfather quite got over his rheumatism? And when is she going to get out\nto see us again?\"\n\n\"Very well, thank you. Yes, ma'am. No'm. Just as soon as the roads get\nsettled, she says,\" said Ned, attempting to answer her rather mixed\nquestions, as he perceived by her pause that she expected a reply.\n\n\"And what a fine big fellow you've grown to be, Master Ned! I _am_\nastonished to see how you improve.\"\n\nNed fully agreed with her, but modestly refrained from saying so, and\nmade known his errand. How poor Miss Pamela's face shone!\n\n\"Oh, my dears, come here,\" she cried, running to a door. \"Do come here\nand see what has come to us.\"\n\nNed looked curiously at the two girls who came in answer to her call.\nThey had become inmates of Miss Pamela's home since his last visit to\nher, and he had never seen them before.\n\n\"The youngest one looks as if she might be pretty,\" he said to himself;\n\"but how funny they do look!\"\n\nThey did look funny. Miss Pamela's only ideas on the subject of dressing\nlittle girls were drawn from her memories of what she herself had worn\nforty years ago. Their pantalets reached almost to their heels, and\ntheir gingham aprons were almost as long, and cut without a gore. Their\nhair was drawn tightly back, and braided in two tails, those of the\nolder one being long and dangly, and of the other short and stubby.\n\n\"See here, my dears,\" again exclaimed Miss Pamela, \"here is some money\nI didn't expect. Didn't I tell you, Kitty Plumstone, that Providence\nwould send you some new music somehow? She plays on the piano, Master\nNed; I really do think she is going to make quite a musician. I teach\nher myself, you know. I can't play any more because of the stiffness in\nmy fingers, but Kitty can play 'Days of Absence,' and 'Come, Haste to\nthe Wedding,' already.\"\n\nNed was expressing pleasure at this pleasing proficiency, when Miss\nPamela bustled away with a few words about dinner, which sounded\nagreeably to him after his ride.\n\nA long ramble afterward on the farm, in company with the funny-looking\ngirls, proved them to be as genial and companionable as they could have\nbeen had their dress included all the modern improvements, although Ned,\nwho was rather critical in such matters, still thought it a pity they\ncould not have blue streaks on their stockings, ruffles somewhere about\nthem, and wear their hair loose.\n\nThey knew where the late wild flowers and the wild strawberries grew,\nand where the birds built their nests. They gathered early cherries, and\npromised Ned plenty of nuts if he would come in October. They had tame\nsquirrels and rabbits penned up in the wonderful old ramshackle building\nwhich did duty as barn, stable, carriage-house, granary, and general\nreceptacle for all kinds of queer old-fashioned lumber, the\naccumulations of many years. They were poultry-fanciers, too, in a small\nway; had a tiny duck-pond at one corner of the barn, where the great\nsweep of roof sloped down almost to the ground, forming a shed, and they\nall climbed upon it, and watched a quacking mother as she introduced her\nfirst brood of downy little yellow lumps to their lawful privileges as\nducklings. And all agreed (the girls and boy, that is) that it was much\nnicer to be young ducks than young chickens; and there is no reason to\ndoubt that the young ducks thought so too, as they realized the delights\nof the cold-water system.\n\nBut all agreed that nothing came up to the bantams--the proud little\nstrutting \"gamy\" (Ned said that) roosters, all bright color and\nambitious crow, and the darling wee brown mothers, scarcely larger than\nquails, whose cunning babies were no bigger than a good-sized marble.\nKitty promised Ned a pair when they should be grown.\n\nAfter tea he was called upon to admire Kitty's playing, but his praises\nof her performance were interrupted by Miss Pamela's profuse apologies\nfor the condition of the piano.\n\n\"It is so terribly out of tune, you see, Master Ned.\" He was evidently\nlooked upon as something of a critic in music. He rather liked to be so\nconsidered, and thought it unnecessary to assure them he knew nothing\nabout it. The old piano sounded to him very much like the bottom of two\ntin pans mildly banged together; but if it had been a much better\ninstrument, it would have been all the same to his unmusical ear.\n\n\"Oh, it sounds very well, I assure you, Miss Pamela,\" he said.\n\n\"You see,\" went on the lady, \"it hasn't been tuned for four years or\nmore. Mr. Scrutite went about the country for many a year tuning pianos;\nbut he got old, and the last time he came he left his tuning key, or\nwhatever you call it, saying he'd be round again if he could; but he\nnever came. It's such an expensive thing, you know, to bring a man\ntwenty miles to do it, that I've been putting it off, and putting it\noff. But we'll have it done now, eh, Kitty?\"\n\n\"Why, Miss Pamela,\" said Ned, \"I'll do it for you, if you have the thing\nthey do it with.\"\n\n\"_You_, Master Ned? Can you tune a piano?\"\n\n\"Well, I never did tune one, but I know exactly how they do it. I've\nseen Professor Seaflatt tune my mother's ever so many times.\"\n\n\"Oh, I'm sure you could do it, if you really feel as if you could take\nso much trouble; it would be a great kindness to us.\"\n\n\"Of course I'll do it, with the greatest pleasure in the world, ma'am.\nLet me see-- I am to go home to-morrow afternoon; I'll do it the first\nthing in the morning.\" And rash Ned went to rest on Miss Pamela's\nfeather-bed, in a room smelling of withered rose leaves. The bed was\nhung with old chintz curtains; the wall-paper displayed a pattern of\nlarge faded flowers. The swallows made a soft twittering in the wide\nchimney, as he closed his eyes with a glow of satisfaction at the\nthought of the kind action (and very clever one, too!) he had undertaken\nto perform.\n\nHe found it harder than he had expected. The screws were rusty and hard\nto move, and the tuning key was old, and _would_ slip. But before noon\nhe announced his task completed, and Miss Pamela and her two nieces\ngathered near, their faces beaming with interest.\n\nThe piano was small and narrow, with legs so thin as to suggest to Ned\nthat it needed pantaloons. It had been the pride and glory of Miss\nPamela's girlhood, and was still, in her eyes, an excellent and valuable\ninstrument, although she, being of a modest turn of mind, was willing to\nacknowledge that it had probably seen its best days.\n\n\"It will be _so_ nice to have it in good tune again!\" she said, in a\ntone of great satisfaction. \"I declare, Master Ned, what a thing it is\nto have such advantages as you boys are having!--to be able to turn your\nhand to 'most anything! Now, then, Kitty, play 'Days of Absence.'\"\n\nKitty played it. But what could be the meaning of that fearful jumble of\nstrange sounds? Surely that time-honored melody (modern hymn-book,\n\"Greenville\") never sounded so before. What was the matter? Miss\nPamela's face fell a little, but she still smiled, and said,\n\n\"You had better get your notes, Kitty; you are playing carelessly.\"\n\nKitty got her notes, and played carefully, but the result was still, to\nsay the least, most astonishing and unsatisfactory.\n\n\"Try 'Come, Haste to the Wedding,' then.\" But the jig ran riot to such\nan extent that Kitty lost her place, stumbled, and finally came to a\ndead stop.\n\nPoor Miss Pamela listened with a face of deepening dismay, while Ned\nstood still, with cold chills running down his back, as he was suddenly\nstruck with the appalling idea that he might have undertaken something\nentirely beyond his abilities, and that the ruin of the cherished old\npiano might be the possible dreadful result.\n\n\"Try a scale, Kitty,\" again suggested Miss Pamela, with a polite effort\nto look tranquil.\n\nOh, that scale--what capers it cut! what unheard-of combinations of\nfearful sounds it was guilty of! Up and down it jumped and flourished,\ncareering about in a manner as far as possible removed from that of a\nsober, well-conducted scale. Bass notes and treble notes ran against\neach other; high notes and low notes played leap-frog--they groaned,\nshrieked, and wheezed in a horrid discord, which could not have been\nworse if a thousand imps had been let loose in the old oaken case.\n\nDid you ever see an intelligent dog with a rustling paper ruffle tied\nround his tail, paper shoes on, and a fool's cap on his head? and as\neverybody laughed at him, and he _knew_ they were doing so, do you\nremember his reproachful look of helpless, indignant protest against\nbeing made to appear ridiculous in spite of himself?\n\nJust such an expression we may imagine that poor old piano would have\nworn, to any one who could have taken in the full absurdity of the\nposition. A venerable instrument like itself, after thirty-five years of\nhonorable service, thus to be forced to exhibit a levity so unbefitting\nits age and dignity!\n\n\"Well,\" and Miss Pamela sank into a chair, \"it's very strange--_very\nstrange indeed_.\"\n\nPoor Ned was red-hot with mortification and chagrin. He certainly was\nto be pitied. It was very trying indeed to have been led into such a\nscrape by his boyish over-confidence in his own powers, and a real\ndesire to do a favor. Even through her own surprise, and her distress at\nwhat she feared might prove a lasting injury to her precious old piano,\nMiss Pamela felt sorry for his embarrassment.\n\n\"Never mind, Master Ned,\" she said, in a kindly tone. \"I dare say the\ntuning key was too old, or perhaps you understand modern pianos better.\nI don't believe any real harm is done, and you know I was going to have\nit tuned with some of the money you were so good as to bring me, so you\nsee I am no worse off than I was before.\"\n\nAs she left the room, Kitty buried her face in her big gingham apron.\n\n\"Oh, Kitty, _don't_ cry!\" exclaimed Ned, his trouble greatly increased,\nif that were possible, by her evident emotion. \"Kitty, I'll have it\nfixed the first thing--you see if I don't! I know it can be fixed.\"\n\nKitty raised her head, and Ned was wonderfully relieved at seeing that\nthe tears in her eyes were caused by suppressed laughter.\n\n\"Oh, Ned, it's so funny!\" she half whispered. \"If Aunt Pamela knew I\nlaughed, though, she would never forgive me.\"\n\n\"Kitty, what _is_ the matter, anyhow?\" asked Ned, pointing to the piano.\n\n\"Why, _I_ don't know. Don't _you_ know? I thought you knew all about\nmusic and pianos.\"\n\n\"No, I don't, Kitty,\" said Ned, in a burst of remorseful frankness. \"I'm\nthe only one of the family that don't. The only things I could ever sing\nwere 'Greenland's Icy Mountains' and 'Oh, Susannah' (that's a song\nmother used to sing to us children), and I always got them mixed up,\nbecause they begin just alike; so I never dare to sing 'Greenland's Icy'\nin church.\"\n\nKitty's words of comfort were as kind as those of her aunt, but Ned felt\nvery anxious to get away from the scene of his discomfiture, and was\nglad to find himself at last on the road home, where he arrived in due\nseason, finding the family at tea. It was not until he was alone with\nhis father and mother that he unburdened himself.\n\n\"Father,\" he began, with some effort, \"will you allow me to send a\nperson at your expense to tune Miss Pamela's piano?\"\n\n\"At _my_ expense? Well, I should want first to know why you ask it.\"\n\n\"The fact of it is, sir, I undertook to tune it myself, and--well, I'm\nafraid I made a bad business of it.\"\n\n\"_You did_ WHAT?\" asked his mother, turning on him a look of such\ncomical amazement that he could not help laughing, although he turned\nredder than before.\n\n\"I tuned her piano.\"\n\n\"Where did _you_ ever learn to tune a piano? I always thought you had no\near for music.\"\n\n\"I didn't do it with my ears, I did it with my hands, and it was hard\nenough work, too. They are all blistered, and my wrists ache, and I am\nas lame all over as if I had been sawing wood all day.\"\n\n\"How did you do it? and, in the name of all that is ridiculous, _why_?\"\ngasped his mother.\n\n\"Well, I did it just as I've seen Seaflatt do yours. I screwed every\nwire up as tight as I could, and kept on fiddling with the other hand on\nthe key to see if it kept on sounding, just _exactly_ as he always\ndoes.\"\n\nNed never forgot the peal of laughter which came from his parents. Both\nkeenly relished the joke, and when Ned learned that what he had done\ncould easily be undone, he felt so much relieved as to be able to laugh\nwith them.\n\n\"Yes,\" said his father, emphatically, when he could recover his voice,\n\"I think you had better send Seaflatt up to Miss Pamela's as soon as\npossible, and set her mind at rest.\"\n\n\"And, oh, Ned,\" said his mother, \"if ever you tune another piano, may I\nbe there to see--and hear!\"\n\n\"If ever I do, ma'am,\" he answered, with a vigorous shake of the head,\n\"_I hope you may_.\"\n\n\n\n\nOLD TIMES IN THE COLONIES.\n\nBY CHARLES CARLETON COFFIN.\n\n\nNo. I.\n\nHOW THE INDIANS WERE WRONGED, AND THEIR REVENGE.\n\nAt three o'clock Tuesday morning, December 11, 1688, James II., King of\nEngland, rose noiselessly from his bed, passed with stealthy steps from\nhis palace, entered a carriage in waiting, and was driven rapidly to the\nbank of the Thames, where he stepped into a boat, and was rowed swiftly\ndown the stream. As the boat shot past the old palace of Lambeth, he\nflung into the river the Great Seal of England, used in stamping all the\nroyal documents to give them validity. He was fleeing from his palace,\nhis throne, his kingdom, and from people whom he had outraged in his\nattempt to set up an absolute and personal government--to do just as he\npleased without regard to law. He believed that the King had the right\nto be above all laws. The people had risen against him, and had invited\nhis son-in-law, William of Orange, to come over from Holland to aid them\nin overthrowing James. William had landed at Torbay, and had been so\nwarmly welcomed that James was seeking refuge in France with Louis XIV.,\nwhose adopted daughter, Mary of Modena, as she was called, was James's\nwife.\n\n\"You are still King of England, and I will aid you in securing your\nthrone,\" said Louis XIV.\n\nIt was not simply a generous act on the part of Louis to a\nfellow-sovereign who was in trouble, but there were ideas behind it.\nLouis XIV. believed with James in the absolute right of kings to do just\nas they pleased: that the people must do their bidding.\n\n\"_The state--it is me!_\" said Louis, striking his hand upon his breast,\nto indicate that there was nobody else who had a right to say or do\nanything in regard to law and government.\n\nThe people of England, on the other hand, believed that they had the\nright to make their own laws through a Parliament of their own choosing,\nand that it was the duty of the King to obey and execute those laws.\n\nJames had done what he could to crush out the Protestant religion in\nEngland; Louis had driven the Huguenots, who were Protestants, from\nFrance, waging a cruel war upon them. Thousands had been killed. More\nthan eight hundred thousand had been compelled to flee to other\ncountries. The war was waged not merely that James might regain his\ncrown, but it was a great struggle for civil and religious freedom. It\nextended to other countries: battles were fought on the banks of the\nRhine, the Danube, the Po; in the meadows of Holland; on the plains of\nGermany; amid the vineyards of Italy; in the wilderness of North\nAmerica; on the Penobscot, Piscataqua, Merrimac, and Mohawk.\n\nAll through the years Jesuit priests had been laboring to convert the\nIndians of Canada to Christianity, and had made them the allies of\nFrance. When the war broke out, all the Indians in Maine and New\nHampshire sided with the French.\n\nThe English, especially the men who bought furs of the Indians, had not\nalways treated them justly.\n\nThe traders cheated them when buying their beaver skins. They would put\nthe furs on one side of the balance, and bear down the other with their\nhands, saying a man's hand weighed a pound. The Dutch fur-traders on the\nHudson used their feet instead of their hands. The simple-hearted red\nmen, knowing nothing of balances and weights, could only look on in\nastonishment, wondering at the lightness of the skins. The Indians of\nMaine and New Hampshire had a grudge against Major Waldron, who lived at\nDover, New Hampshire.\n\n\"His hand weighs too much,\" they said.\n\nBut they had another and greater grievance. To understand it we must go\nback a little.\n\nIn 1675, Philip, who lived on a hill overlooking the peaceful waters of\nNarragansett Bay, begun war upon the English, which lasted nearly two\nyears, during which the New Hampshire Indians murdered some of the\nsettlers. The Governor of Massachusetts sent Captain Sill and Captain\nHathorn, with their two companies of soldiers, to seize all the Indians,\nalthough only a few had taken any part in the murders. Major Waldron\ninvited the Indians to come to Dover; and they, regarding him as their\nfriend, came from their wigwams along the lakes and rivers, to see what\nhe wanted.\n\n\"Let us have a sham fight,\" he said.\n\nThe Indians agreed to it. They ranged themselves on one side, their guns\nloaded with powder only, and the white men on the other.\n\n\"You fire first,\" said Major Waldron.\n\nThe Indians fired their guns in the air, and the next moment found\nthemselves surrounded by the white men, who made them prisoners, taking\naway their guns, putting them on board a vessel, sending them to Boston,\nand selling two hundred of them into slavery.\n\nOne Indian made his escape from the soldiers, ran into Elizabeth Heard's\nhouse, and the good woman secreted him in the cellar, and saved him from\nbeing sold into slavery.\n\nThe war between England and France began. The Jesuit fathers were making\ntheir influence felt among the tribes, winning them to the side of\nFrance.\n\nPrevious to this the Indians had made themselves at home in Dover,\ncoming and going as they pleased. There were five strongly fortified\nhouses in the town, in which the settlers slept at night.\n\nIt was the evening of the 27th of June, 1688, when two squaws called at\nMajor Waldron's garrison, and asked if they might sleep there.\n\n\"Indians are coming to trade to-morrow,\" they said.\n\nMajor Waldron was pleased to hear it, for trade with the Indians always\nmeant a good bargain to the white man.\n\n\"Supposing we should want to go out in the night, how shall we open the\ndoor?\" asked the squaws.\n\nThey are shown how to undo the fastenings.\n\n[Illustration: MAJOR WALDRON'S TERRIBLE FIGHT.]\n\nMajor Waldron is eighty years of age, white-haired, wrinkled, but there\nis force yet left in his arm, and he is as courageous as ever. He has no\nfear of any Indian that walks the earth, and the vague rumors and\nwhisperings of an uprising are as idle as the wind to him. He lies down\nto sleep. The lights in all the houses are extinguished. No sentinel\nwalks the street. In the darkness dusky forms glide noiselessly through\nthe town. The doors of the houses open. The terrible war-whoop breaks\nthe stillness of the summer night. A half-dozen Indians burst into the\nroom where the brave old man is sleeping. He springs from the bed,\nseizes his sword, and single-handed drives them from his chamber into\nthe large room. In the darkness one steals behind him, strikes a blow,\nand he falls. It is their hour of triumph. He has been a ruler and a\njudge. The Indians can be sarcastic. They seat him in his arm-chair,\nlift him upon the table. It is his throne.\n\n\"Get us supper,\" is their command to the family.\n\nThey eat, and then turn to their bloody work. One by one they slash\ntheir knives across his breast.\n\n\"So I cross out my account,\" they say. They are settling an account that\nhas been standing thirteen long years.\n\nAn Indian cuts off one hand. \"Where are the scales? Let us see if it\nweighs a pound.\"\n\nOne cuts off his nose, another his ears. The old man's strength is gone,\nand as he falls, one holds his sword, so that it pierces his body.\n\nIn one of the garrisons is a faithful dog, whose barking awakes the\ninmates. The Indians rush upon the door. Elder Wentworth throws himself\nupon the floor, holds his feet against it, and braces himself with all\nhis might. The bullets whistle over him, but do him no harm, and he\nholds it fast, keeping the Indians at bay, and saving the lives of those\nwithin.\n\nElizabeth Heard and her children on this evening have come from\nPortsmouth in a boat. They are belated, and the Indians are at their\nbloody work when they arrive. Her children flee, while she sinks in\nterror upon the ground. An Indian with a pistol runs up and stands over\nher, but he does not fire.\n\n\"No harm shall come to you,\" he says. He permits no one to touch her. It\nis the Indian whom she befriended thirteen years ago.\n\nWhen the morning dawns it is upon the smouldering ruins of burning\ndwellings, upon the mangled bodies of twenty-three men and women, and\nupon twenty-nine women and children going into captivity--a long weary\nmarch through the woods to Canada to be sold as slaves to the French, or\nkept as prisoners by the savages. Yet amid the ghastly scene, through\nthe blood and flame and smoke and desolation, there is this\nbrightness--the remembrance of the kindness of Elizabeth Heard, and its\nreward.\n\n\n\n\n[Illustration: REVIEW OF THE CAVALRY BY THE INFANTRY.--DRAWN BY SOL.\nEYTINGE, JUN.]\n\n\n\n\nHOW THE LITTLE SMITHS GOT THEIR FOURTH-OF-JULY MONEY.\n\nBY MARGARET SIDNEY.\n\n\n\"What did George Washington do, I wonder, on the Fourth of July?\" said\nHarper Smith, rattling his tin money bank with an awful din.\n\n\"Mercy! I don't know,\" said Aunt Nancy, shielding her ears, and thinking\ntwice as much about the noise as she did about the question. \"Do pray be\nstill! I'm sure I wish there wasn't any Fourth of July.\"\n\n\"Oh, Harp, you ninny!\" cried his brother Joe. \"There wasn't any Fourth\nat all till George Washington made it.\"\n\n\"_You_ better study up,\" said Aunt Nancy, coming to her senses, as\nHarper, very much confused, stopped the rattling. \"You don't begin to\nrealize what the guns and the fire-crackers and the torpedoes, and all\nthe other dreadful things that blow up people and knock off boys'\nfingers and toes, are for. It would be a great deal better if boys had\nmore history in their heads and less money in their pockets. That's the\nway to celebrate, I think; and I mean to ask your father about it.\"\n\n\"Oh, don't, _don't_, Aunt Nancy--please _don't_!\" cried both boys, in\nthe greatest dismay, while Lucy ran in from the next room, with\nwide-open eyes, at the uproar. \"Don't make father take away our money;\nwe always have it, you know.\"\n\n\"You can have your money,\" said Aunt Nancy, putting up her spectacles to\nlook at their distressed faces, and beginning to laugh at the sight;\n\"but you ought to know what you're spending it for. _I_ would, I know,\nbe able to tell something about my country, and who fought for it.\"\n\nWhen Mr. Smith came home the boys were both out in the barn, looking at\na very new colony of kittens in an old barrel. So Aunt Nancy had about\nfive minutes of peace and quiet, which she speedily made the most of, I\ncan assure you--talking away so fast that Mr. Smith had to follow her\npretty closely, with eyes as well as ears on the alert.\n\nWhen she had finished, \"Capital,\" was all he said. And then the boys\ncame tearing in, and they had tea.\n\nAfter supper, \"Now for a story,\" cried Joe, getting possession of the\nchair next to Mr. Smith, while Harper flew for another.\n\n\"When does Fourth of July come?\" asked Mr. Smith, abruptly.\n\n\"It's three weeks from day after to-morrow,\" cried Joe, springing up,\nand running for the almanac.\n\n\"Weill, what are you going to do on the Fourth?\" said their father.\n\n\"Oh, _everything_,\" cried Joe, while Harper came in on the chorus; and\nLucy beat a soft little tune on her father's shoulder with her hand.\n\n\"You said you'd give us more money _this_ Fourth,\" cried Harper, seeing\nhis chance. \"Don't you remember? 'Cause we're bigger, you know.\"\n\n\"And so you'll try to blow off your heads harder than ever, I suppose,\"\nsaid Mr. Smith, with a twinkle in the eye next to Harper. \"And then\nwho's to pay the doctor's bills, I wonder?\"\n\n\"If our heads were off, we wouldn't have to have the doctor,\" suggested\nJoe, dreadfully afraid the money wasn't coming.\n\n\"True enough,\" laughed his father. \"Well, heads stand for everything\nelse--all the hurts, I mean.\"\n\n\"I ain't goin' to blow off _my_ head,\" declared Harper, getting up in an\nanxious way, and standing in front of his father. \"Say, father, I\npromise you I won't. Do give us the money--_do_.\"\n\n\"Do you want more than you had before?\" asked his father, pulling his\near.\n\n\"Yes, _sir_,\" emphatically declared Harper, all out of breath from his\nexercise; \"I want forty cannons.\"\n\n\"Mercy!\" ejaculated Aunt Nancy, in smothered accents, over in the corner\nby the window, with her mending basket.\n\n\"Well, then, I'll tell you how you can get it,\" said Mr. Smith, speaking\nvery earnestly, and fastening his eyes intently on their faces.\n\n\"_Really_, papa?\" cried Lucy, sitting up straight on his knee.\n\n\"_Really_,\" said Mr. Smith, bringing his hand down on the arm of his\nchair with convincing emphasis. \"And I don't mind paying money for such\nan object--it's well spent, I can tell you. Now, boys, see here--and\nLucy too;\" and he leaned forward and began to talk in a way that made\nthe children see that this was no funning, but sober earnest, every word\nof it. \"If you all go to work for three weeks, beginning to-morrow\nmorning--all the time you get out of school, I mean--and study up\neverything you can get hold of that concerns the history of our country:\nwhat Fourth-of-July's for, and all that; who made the country what it\nis, so that we can celebrate and bang away, and play with powder and\nguns-- Stop! I haven't got through,\" as he saw both boys' mouths fly\nopen to launch numberless questions at him. \"Begin at the very\nfoundation; get all the information you possibly can; find out all the\nnames of the Presidents, for one thing, and all about the establishing\nof Congress; most of the principal battles, and all that--why, then,\nthree weeks from to-morrow night, the one who knows the most, and can\ntell it in a sensible way that shows he knows what he's learned, and not\nlike a parrot, _he_ shall have the most money. And it _shall_ be a large\nsum, I promise you, compared to what you had last year. That's all. Now\nyou may speak.\" And Mr. Smith leaned back in his chair, and burst into a\nhearty laugh at the tumult he had raised around his ears.\n\nAt last Harper, in a lull of questions and answers that were flying back\nand forth, turned and fixed a reproachful glance over in the direction\nof the big mending basket. \"'Twas all Aunt Nancy,\" he cried. \"Oh dear!\nAnd she wasn't never a boy. And she don't know how we want things, she\ndon't.\"\n\n\"We never can do it,\" cried Joe, in despair.\n\n\"Never's a long word,\" cried Mr. Smith, briskly. \"Begin to-night. Come,\nboys, get out the maps, and we'll start right off, now, this very\nminute;\" and he jumped up, and began to roll the big table up closer to\nthe window.\n\n\"And I'm goin' to get that awful old history,\" cried Harper, rushing\nout, full of enthusiasm; \"that'll tell lots.\"\n\n\"Do,\" cried his father, approvingly. \"Go along too, Joe and Lucy, and\nget all the books you can; _then_ we'll see.\"\n\nSo in two or three minutes three happy and excited children sat around\nthe table, while their father showed them how to begin, explained the\nhard parts, and pointed out places on the map, while Aunt Nancy, over in\nthe corner, smiled and nodded to herself more than ever.\n\nAll of a sudden a voice broke in on the absorbed group: \"And _I'm_ going\nto have a finger in this Fourth-of-July pie; so you needn't think you\ncan keep me out.\"\n\nEverybody looked up and stared.\n\n\"Yes, I am; so there, now!\" repeated Aunt Nancy, decisively. \"And the\none that I find knows the most when you all get through in three weeks,\nwhy, there's some stray dollars in my purse that I don't know what to do\nwith, and they might as well go along with your father's as anywhere\nelse.\"\n\nAt this there was such excitement over by the table that nobody could\nhear anything, till Harper's voice finally got the high key. \"And if\nanybody sees a bigger Fourth of July than _we'll_ have, I'd like to know\nit, that's all.\"\n\n\"Three cheers for Christopher Columbus, and the whole lot!\" cried Joe.\n\"I wish 'twas Fourth twice a year, I do.\"\n\n\"We haven't got ready for _one_ yet,\" said Lucy, deep in an atlas. \"I'm\ngoin' to make this a good one first.\"\n\n\"Three cheers for Christopher Columbus--and Lucy!\" said Harper, taking\nthe hint, and settling down to work.\n\n\"It _can't_ be nine o'clock?\" cried Joe, when Mr. Smith gave the word\n\"To bed.\"\n\n\"Look at the clock, then,\" said their father; and all the flushed faces\nwere turned up to the old time-piece in the corner.\n\n\"It's dreadfully nice,\" said Lucy, cuddling up to Aunt Nancy for a\ngood-night kiss. \"Oh, I'd love to sit up all night and study.\"\n\n\"Hold out to the end,\" said Mr. Smith; \"that's what will tell.\" And off\nthe three children flew to their nests, to dream of George Washington\ndancing a war-dance on Bunker Hill, while Pocahontas read the\nDeclaration of Independence.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nIt all went very well for two days. The children got up early in the\nmorning, and otherwise made the most of their time. Then Harper's great\nfriend Chuckie Bronson, who had received a wonderful dog from an uncle\nin the country, waxed so enthusiastic over the various tricks that the\nlittle spaniel performed that Harper couldn't help catching the fever.\nAnd it came to be quite the natural thing that when the little history\nclass gathered around the big table, one of their number was missing,\nand Harper's book-mark remained stationary for many a long hour. And\nthen, unfortunately for poor Lucy, who eagerly grasped every second from\nplay-time to spend among the text-books and atlases, which by this time\nhad become exceedingly fascinating, for her came one evening the final\nhour of study, and the last hope disappeared of her ever winning the\ncoveted \"First Prize.\" Hateful little red spots blossomed all over\nLucy's face, as if by magic, so suddenly that no one noticed, until Joe,\nglancing up to find a word in the dictionary, discovered them, and\nnudged Aunt Nancy.\n\n\"Mercy!\" said that individual, looking keenly over her spectacles at the\nlittle student--\"if you haven't broken out with measles! Shut your book,\nchild; it's dreadfully bad for the eyes. Now you mustn't read another\nword.\"\n\nIf Lucy was red as a rose before, now she was pale enough. All of the\nhateful little red spots seemed to run right in at the command, and hide\ntheir heads.\n\nNo more study! How could she give it up? Oh! and there were still ten\ndays before the glorious Fourth!\n\nWith all Joe's sorrow for his little afflicted sister, with all his\nkindness of disposition, he couldn't help but rejoice just one wee bit\nat being sole conqueror--just for one minute, though. The next he said,\n\n\"See here, Lucy. I'll read 'em to you--every one of the questions, you\nknow. There, don't cry, puss. And then you can learn the answers, and\nsay 'em over and over; and--goodness me!--why, you'll learn a heap that\nway.\"\n\n\"I can't,\" moaned poor Lucy, screwing her fingers into her smarting\neyes. \"It'll put you back; you might be studying all that while, Joe. Oh\ndear! dear!\"\n\n\"That's very true,\" observed Aunt Nancy, whisking off something very\nbright from her cheek; \"and that wouldn't be quite right, Lucy. It's all\nthe same a good thing in you, Joe, to want to. There are some things\nbetter than prizes, or knowledge even. But I'll read to you, Lucy, and\nif you can have the patience to learn that way--it'll be much harder,\nyou know--but if you can do it, why perhaps you'll come off better than\nyou think--who knows?\"\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nSo Lucy, with her father's old silk handkerchief tied over her eyes, sat\non her little stool patiently day after day, while Aunt Nancy went over\nas much ground as could be covered in that slow way; and on the unequal\nbattle waged.\n\n\"Of course I don't expect any prize,\" said Lucy, with a very big sigh,\nwhen the eventful evening of the 3d of July arrived; \"but I know a\nlittle something, and that's nice. But, oh! to think of Joe!\"\n\n\"Where's Harper?\" said Mr. Smith, when the little circle was formed\naround him.\n\n\"Here,\" said a doleful voice from underneath the table. \"I don't know\nanything, an' I ain't a-comin' out.\"\n\n\"I shouldn't think you did,\" said Mr. Smith, gravely. \"Ah, Harper, my\nboy, play is pleasant enough at the time, but I tell you it hurts\nafterward; that is, if it's _all_ play.\"\n\n\"And now,\" exclaimed Aunt Nancy, bringing them back to order, when a\ndelightful hour of questions, anecdotes, and rapid answers had fairly\nwhirled by--\"the result.\"\n\n\"The first prize, of course,\" said Mr. Smith, smiling down into the two\nupturned, eager faces before him, \"belongs, without doubt, to Joe; but\nif ever a prize ought to go, as fairly earned under difficulties, there\nshould be one for my little girl!\"\n\nHe put into Joe's hand a brand-new ten-dollar bill that crinkled\ndelightfully; and then he took hold of Lucy's little hand, and opening\nit, he laid within one just like it.\n\n\"You've got one too!\" screamed Joe, perfectly delighted. \"Oh, Lucy, do\nlook and see!\"\n\n\"Have I?\" cried Lucy, poking up one corner of the old handkerchief to\nsee. \"Oh, Joe, I have, I _have_!\"\n\n\"And here is _my_ part of the Fourth-of-July pie,\" cried Aunt Nancy,\nrattling down on them a goodly shower of silver quarters. \"There! and\nthere! and there!\"\n\n\"The Fourth of July forever!\" sang Joe, jumping up on the table, and\nswinging his arms. \"Three cheers for the _Encyclopaedia of Events_ I'll\nget!\"\n\n\"That's no better than the Histories I'll have!\" crowed Lucy,\ntriumphantly.\n\n\"And I,\" said a dismal voice under the table, \"shall begin now for next\nyear. Yes, I will.\"\n\n\n\n\nMR MARTIN'S SCALP.\n\nBY JIMMY BROWN.\n\n\nAfter that game of mumble-te-peg that me and Mr. Martin played, he did\nnot come to our house for two weeks. Mr. Travers said perhaps the earth\nhe had to gnaw while he was drawing the peg had struck to his insides\nand made him sick, but I knew it couldn't be that. I've drawn pegs that\nwere drove into every kind of earth, and it never hurt me. Earth is\nhealthy, unless it is lime; and don't you ever let anybody drive a peg\ninto lime. If you were to swallow the least bit of lime, and then drink\nsome water, it would burn a hole through you just as quick as anything.\nThere was once a boy who found some lime in the closet, and thought it\nwas sugar, and of course he didn't like the taste of it. So he drank\nsome water to take the taste out of his mouth, and pretty soon his\nmother said: \"I smell something burning goodness gracious! the house is\non fire.\" But the boy he gave a dreadful scream, and said, \"Ma, it's\nme!\" and the smoke curled up out of his pockets and around his neck, and\nhe burned up and died. I know this is true, because Tom McGinnis went to\nschool with him, and told me about it.\n\nMr. Martin came to see Susan last night for the first time since we had\nour game; and I wish he had never come back, for he got me into an awful\nscrape. This was the way it happened. I was playing Indian in the yard.\nI had a wooden tomahawk and a wooden scalping-knife and a bownarrow. I\nwas dressed up in father's old coat turned inside out, and had six\nchicken feathers in my hair. I was playing I was Green Thunder, the\nDelaware chief, and was hunting for pale-faces in the yard. It was just\nafter supper, and I was having a real nice time, when Mr. Travers came,\nand he said, \"Jimmy, what are you up to now?\" So I told him I was Green\nThunder, and was on the war-path. Said he, \"Jimmy, I think I saw Mr.\nMartin on his way here. Do you think you would mind scalping him?\" I\nsaid I wouldn't scalp him for nothing, for that would be cruelty; but if\nMr. Travers was sure that Mr. Martin was the enemy of the red man, then\nGreen Thunder's heart would ache for revenge, and I would scalp him with\npleasure. Mr. Travers said that Mr. Martin was a notorious enemy and\noppressor of the Indians, and he gave me ten cents, and said that as\nsoon as Mr. Martin should come and be sitting comfortably on the piazza,\nI was to give the war-whoop and scalp him.\n\nWell, in a few minutes Mr. Martin came, and he and Mr. Travers and Susan\nsat on the piazza, and talked as if they were all so pleased to see each\nother, which was the highestpocracy in the world. After a while Mr.\nMartin saw me, and said, \"How silly boys are! that boy makes believe\nhe's an Indian, and he knows he is only a little nuisance.\" Now this\nmade me mad, and I thought I would give him a good scare, just to teach\nhim not to call names if a fellow does beat him in a fair game. So I\nbegan to steal softly up the piazza steps, and to get around behind him.\nWhen I had got about six feet from him I gave a war-whoop, and jumped at\nhim. I caught hold of his scalp-lock with one hand, and drew my wooden\nscalping-knife around his head with the other.\n\nI never got such a fright in my whole life. The knife was that dull that\nit wouldn't have cut butter; but, true as I sit here, Mr. Martin's whole\nscalp came right off in my hand. I thought I had killed him, and I\ndropped his scalp, and said, \"For mercy's sake! I didn't go to do it,\nand I'm awfully sorry.\" But he just caught up his scalp, stuffed it in\nhis pocket, and jammed his hat on his head, and walked off, saying to\nSusan, \"I didn't come here to be insulted by a little wretch that\ndeserves the gallows.\"\n\nMr. Travers and Susan never said a word until he had gone, and then they\nlaughed till the noise brought father out to ask what was the matter.\nWhen he heard what had happened, instead of laughing, he looked very\nangry, said that \"Mr. Martin was a worthy man. My son, you may come up\nstairs with me.\"\n\nIf you've ever been a boy, you know what happened up stairs, and I\nneedn't say any more on a very painful subject. I didn't mind it so\nmuch, for I thought Mr. Martin would die, and then I would be hung, and\nput in jail; but before she went to bed Susan came and whispered through\nthe door that it was all right; that Mr. Martin was made that way, so he\ncould be taken apart easy, and that I hadn't hurt him. I shall have to\nstay in my room all day to-day, and eat bread and water; and what I say\nis that if men are made with scalps that may come off any minute if a\nboy just touches them, it isn't fair to blame the boy.\n\n\n\n\n[Begun in HARPER'S YOUNG PEOPLE No. 34, June 22.]\n\nMISS VAN WINKLE'S NAP.\n\nBY MRS. W. J. HAYS.\n\n\nCHAPTER II.\n\n\"Now, nurse, what is it?\" cried Quillie and Fred and Will and Artie, as\nthey rushed from the deck of their odd craft, and after a hasty\nbrushing, and a dip into the clear spring water, they made their way to\nthe breakfast table.\n\n\"Yes, nurse _cherie_,\" echoed gypsy Julie, \"please be so good as to\ninform--describe-- Oh, what is the word?\"\n\n\"Tell, tell--that is the word, little Frenchie,\" said Fred.\n\n\"Thanks, monsieur,\" said Julie, gravely.\n\nQuillie whispered softly to Fred that his manner was rude, whereupon\nFred, with a nonsensical bow, turned to Julie.\n\n\"My sister 'informs, describes' me as rude; am I?\"\n\n\"A little, I think,\" said Julie; but she turned eagerly to hear what\nnurse had to say.\n\n\"Mr. Brown says that he will bring in his first load of hay to-day, and\nas many as choose can go to the 'Look-out' field and help him, and\nafterward he will give you all a ride.\"\n\n\"Splendid!\" \"Glorious!\" said the boys.\n\n\"Won't it be nice?\" said Quillie to Julie.\n\n\"Charming!\" replied Julie; \"but why is it called the Look-out field?\"\n\n\"Because there is so fine a view from it of the mountains.\"\n\n\"The Catskills?\"\n\n\"Yes, where old Rip Van Winkle slept for twenty years.\"\n\n\"Did he, truly?\"\n\n\"So the story goes. Every time it thunders, we think the queer old\nmountain men are playing nine-pins.\"\n\n\"Do you?\" said Julie, with eyes still wider open. \"I should like to see\nthem.\"\n\n\"The Indians used to say that an old squaw lived on the highest peak of\nthe Catskills, and had charge of the doors of Day and Night. She hung up\nthe new moons in the skies, and cut up the old ones into stars.\"\n\n\"Oh, Quillie, would it not be lovely to seek her, and find out more\nabout the moon and stars?\"\n\n\"Pshaw!\" said Quillie, with scorn. \"Do you believe such nonsense,\nJulie?\"\n\n\"I don't know,\" said Julie, \"but I think I should like to believe it.\"\n\nThen they all concluded that they wanted no more breakfast, and there\nwas another rush; for the trunks had come, and each desired some\nparticular treasure--a garden tool, an old hat, a sun-bonnet, a tin\npail, or a fishing-rod.\n\nNurse was too good-natured to refuse, and so the trunks were opened, and\nransacked very thoroughly, until Mr. Brown summoned them; then, like\nswallows at twilight, they were again all on the wing, darting hither\nand thither. But in one little brain was a thought like a butterfly\nemerging from its chrysalis.\n\nTo Julie this jaunt from the city to the country had been the\nrealization of a dream, or as if she had walked into a page of her\nstory-books, and found the things and people all living and true. The\nscent of the sweet clover, the twittering of the birds, the deep blue of\nthe sky and the deeper blue of the mountains, the snow-white daisies and\nthe yellow buttercups, were things she had read about in the many lonely\nmoments she had spent while her mother was out giving lessons; but in\nall her little life she had no actual experience of these things; and\nnow here they were, and in addition it was the land of romance--a place\nwhere people could sleep for twenty years, a place where queer hobgoblin\npeople played nine-pins. That squaw Quillie had told her about was\nfascinating; perhaps it was true that she still was living, and oh! how\nshe should like to see her! Perhaps if she walked all day, she might\nreach the top of that great blue peak, and find in some strange little\nwigwam that old creature who cut up the old moons into stars, and then\nwhat a wonderful tale Julie would have to tell! It would be like\nvisiting the old woman who swept the cobwebs from the sky. There would\nbe no harm in trying. She had often been on errands alone in the great\ncity, where everything was so confusing. Perhaps the squaw would be\npleased, and give her some wonderful talisman; or she might relate to\nher stories of Indian life, which she (Julie) would write down and make\ninto a book; and then no one, not even nurse, would be angry with her\nfor daring to do so courageous a thing.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\n[Illustration: RIDING HOME FROM THE HAY FIELD.--DRAWN BY W. M. CARY.]\n\nWho would have imagined that, as the children tossed about the heaps of\nfragrant hay, this wild scheme was brewing beneath the brim of a tiny\nstraw hat wreathed with daisies? And who thought to count the merry ones\non the top of the wagon-load as it turned homeward? Not nurse, who was\nsewing beneath a tree, and who gathered up her work and went after her\ncharge in blissful ignorance that one lamb had strayed from the fold.\n\nWith eager, hurrying steps Julie had left the meadow and sought a clump\nof trees; from these she emerged upon a road which seemed much\ntravelled. It was very steep and dusty where it was not rocky, but she\nwas not to be daunted at the outset; so on she went as rapidly as\npossible, for fear that, being missed, she might be over-taken, and\nprevented from accomplishing this great feat. At first she could hear\nthe voices in the field beneath her, but as she hastened on all became\nsilent but the stirring of the summer breeze in the tree-tops, and the\nfar-away cackle of an industrious hen. The road, at first very sunny,\nhad now wound itself beside huge crags, which made a welcome shade, and\nJulie saw with delight a little water-fall come tumbling down a narrow\nfissure, plunging into a pool below, and crossing the path. Warm and\nthirsty, she stopped to refresh herself and listen to the gurgling of\nthe brook. But she must not dawdle, or night might come on, and then it\nwould be hard to find the old squaw, who was perhaps at this moment\ncutting glittering stars out of the old moons. The difficulty of hanging\nthem up did not once occur to her. Possibly the moon and the stars were\nnot like tinsel, but she had no doubt of the squaw. She had heard that\nsquaws made baskets: would it not be a nice thing to buy a little one\nfor Quillie, and a great big one for nurse?--she would pick out the very\nprettiest. And so she scrambled on, getting very much heated and soiled,\ncatching her clothes on the briers, getting bits of stone in her shoes,\nbut neither frightened nor concerned about those from whom she had\nwandered.\n\nMeanwhile Quillie, from her high perch on the hay, began wondering why\nher little companion was so silent. She supposed Julie was behind her,\nbut, fearful of tumbling, she had been still as a mouse. She twisted\nabout now, a little uneasily, and called Julie, but there was no\nresponse. Then Mr. Brown helped her to dismount, and still no Julie was\nto be seen. So she went into the house, procured a book, and sat on the\npiazza. Presently nurse came in.\n\n\"Where's Julie?\" cried Quillie.\n\n\"Where?--was she not with you?\"\n\n\"No, she was not on the hay-cart.\"\n\n\"Then she must be with the boys.\"\n\n\"No; they are in the barn.\"\n\n\"Then she is hiding. Go and look for her. I must get your rooms in order\nnow.\" So nurse went in.\n\nQuillie tried to read, but her thoughts were like thistle-down. Where\ncould Julie be? She sought her all about the house; peeped into all\nsorts of corners. Then she went to the barn. Had the boys seen Julie?\nNo; and they were whittling, making a boat, and couldn't be bothered.\n\n\"I wish, Fred, that you had not been so rude to Julie.\"\n\nFred looked up, surprised. \"Rude! when was I rude?\"\n\n\"You called her 'little Frenchy,' and imitated her.\"\n\n\"Did I? Oh yes, I remember something of that sort. But she isn't huffy,\nyou know; she's a bright little chick.\"\n\nQuillie thought so too, and was getting very lonely.\n\nAs the afternoon shadows lengthened, and the great conch shell was blown\nfor the men to come in to their early supper, nurse came down to summon\nthe children in to tidy themselves; and when she found Quillie crying in\na corner, and no Julie yet to be seen, she too became uneasy. Where\ncould the child have gone? She questioned everybody. No one had seen\nher. All remembered the little brown hat with its wreath of daisies.\nFortunately the farm was a safe place; there was no water to fear.\nPerhaps she had fallen asleep somewhere. All would hunt for her after\nsupper. And all did hunt, but no one found her.\n\nThe moon, like a silver sickle, hung in the sky; the frogs croaked; the\nsoft sweet air puffed out the muslin curtains, and brought in the\nfragrance of the new-mown hay. The children, too tired to be much\nalarmed, went to their beds without their usual gambols. Mr. Brown\nhitched his weary horses, and declared his intention of remaining out\nall night unless he found Julie. Poor nurse was in a fever of anxiety.\nShe reproached herself in many quite unnecessary ways. She had talked\nthe matter over with Mrs. Brown until both were exhausted, and now she\nwas pacing the piazza in weary restlessness.\n\nQuillie, unable to sleep, came trotting out in her night-gown, and\nseeing poor nurse's sad face, went up to her, and whispered something\nabout \"God being able to take care of little Julie wherever she might\nbe,\" when far away came the sound of wheels.\n\n\"Hark!\" said nurse, \"is that wagon coming here?\"\n\n\"Yes,\" said Quillie, listening, \"it is coming here.\"\n\n[TO BE CONTINUED.]\n\n\n\n\n[Illustration: STABLE TALK--DRAWN BY FRANK BELLEW, JUN.]\n\n\n\n\n[Illustration: OUR POST-OFFICE BOX.]\n\n\n  PORTLAND, CONNECTICUT.\n\n     I have both wild and tame pets. This spring a pair of brown-headed\n     birds built their nest in the _Akebia quinata_. The old birds have\n     grown so tame that they will come up to my feet to eat crumbs.\n     Their young are fully fledged now. The robins have a brood in the\n     apple-tree, and now another pair of small birds have begun to\n     build in one of our evergreens. My tame pets are a pair of jonquil\n     canaries, Nedy and Barbra. They hatched four eggs, but all the\n     little birds died. Now Barbra has a nest of five eggs, and\n     yesterday one bird was hatched, and to-day another. I have a few\n     choice varieties of roses and other plants. The roses and\n     honeysuckles in the garden are in bloom. I am ten years old.\n\n  ALTIA R. A.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\n  GENEVA, NEW YORK.\n\n     We have four old canaries, and one of them, named Fanny, laid two\n     eggs, and now there are two little birds. They keep Dick busy\n     feeding them all the time. We give them bread and milk and boiled\n     egg. This spring we had a pair of twin lambs, and the mother sheep\n     did not like but one, so we had to feed the other. My brother\n     Herbert is the one who feeds it, and it will follow him\n     everywhere. The other day it walked into the dining-room after\n     him. It will not come to me. We have over forty little chickens,\n     and twelve turkeys. The turkeys are just as pretty as they can be.\n\n  GRACE ELEANOR.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\n  JERSEY CITY, NEW JERSEY.\n\n     I am ten years old. I would like you to know how much I like YOUNG\n     PEOPLE. I do so love to read the letters from the little girls and\n     boys. I have a canary named Beauty, and a cat named Charlie.\n\n  LILLIE C. L.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\n  GRANVILLE, OHIO.\n\n     My papa subscribed for YOUNG PEOPLE for my birthday present. I am\n     just getting over scarlet fever, and I look forward eagerly every\n     week for my paper, for my playmates are afraid to come to see me,\n     and it is the best young friend I have. I am eight years old.\n\n  MAY A.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\n  PORT REPUBLIC, MARYLAND.\n\n     I saw the letters in YOUNG PEOPLE about pets, and thought I would\n     write about mine. I have two dogs. One is named Topsy and the\n     other Frank. But best of all is my horse, named Ella. I am eight\n     years old.\n\n  \"LITTLE BROTHER.\"\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\n     I live in the northwestern part of Minnesota, in the town of\n     Detroit. I think I must be one of the most northern subscribers to\n     YOUNG PEOPLE in the United States. This winter has been very\n     severe. The snow staid on the ground nearly five months. We have\n     no spring here, only a winter and a summer, with a very short\n     autumn. Two years ago I saw a flock of Bohemian wax-wings, which\n     are very rare in the United States. I would like to know if any\n     other correspondents have ever seen them. They are pretty birds.\n\n     Some honeysuckles and blue, white, and yellow violets grow here in\n     the woods.\n\n  JAY H. M.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\n  CRUGERS, NEW YORK.\n\n     My aunt sends me YOUNG PEOPLE, and I like it very much. We have a\n     squirrel round our house that is pure white, but its mother is a\n     common red one. We think that is very odd. Our gardener calls the\n     young one a dandy. The squirrels and rabbits in our yard are very\n     tame, and do not mind people a bit; and a little wren builds its\n     nest in the horse post by the stoop every year. We never frighten\n     or hurt our wild pets.\n\n  PHILIP P. C.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\n  TULLAHOMA, TENNESSEE.\n\n     I am very sorry we had to leave Frank Austin so soon, and I hope\n     we are going to hear how he went back to his mother and sisters. I\n     think if all Young America had as much pluck as Frank, there would\n     be no such thing as \"fail.\"\n\n     I caught a little rabbit a week ago, but it got away before I had\n     made a cage for it. I have a turtle that weighs about ten pounds.\n     But my best pet is a large dog named Andy. He is a good jumper. He\n     can jump a very high fence.\n\n     My father has been a subscriber to HARPER'S MAGAZINE ever since\n     1859. I think I shall take YOUNG PEOPLE as long--and longer too.\n     My brothers take HARPER'S WEEKLY. The illustrations are so pretty!\n     My brother Abe, who is six years old, says he is going to be a\n     \"picture man,\" like Mr. Nast, when he grows up.\n\n     Have any of the correspondents a tame crow? I would like to know\n     how to pet one.\n\n  \"LONE STAR.\"\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\n  WEST CHESTER, PENNSYLVANIA.\n\n     My brother has a young pet crow. When it is hungry it \"caws\" till\n     we go out and feed it. The other day it ate three mice and a mole.\n     It can not fly yet. I have a dear little kitty, and if it goes\n     toward the crow, the bird will open its mouth and hop away\n     sideways. I like to make Wiggles and Misfits very much.\n\n  ANNA M. J.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\n  PHILADELPHIA, PENNSYLVANIA.\n\n     I caught a dragon-fly the other day. It was three inches long, and\n     its wings spread five inches. Its head was transparent. I have a\n     cat named Lion. My brother takes YOUNG PEOPLE. I like to read the\n     letters in the Post-office Box.\n\n  CARE G. DE M.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\n  MILTON, VERMONT.\n\n     The last of April, when I went after May-flowers, I brought home\n     some frogs' eggs in my basket. They looked like hemp seed in lemon\n     jelly. In about a week each egg separated from the main part in a\n     little ball. It took two weeks for the pollywogs to hatch, but\n     when they did, it was very comical to see them swimming about. If\n     we scared them, they would run to their balls, or homes, as we\n     called them. I put them in the brook, and afterward when I went to\n     look for them, I could not find them. I suppose they had developed\n     into little frogs, and hopped away. I brought a toad home last\n     night, and put it in the garden. It dug into the ground until it\n     was nearly buried, and this morning I could not find it. Perhaps\n     it got homesick--if toads ever do.\n\n  ALICE C. H.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\n  SMITHFIELD, NORTH CAROLINA.\n\n     I live one mile from a little village on the east bank of the\n     Neuse. I have three cats, but they have no pretty tricks. I have a\n     goat too. Her name is Philadelphia, but I call her Phila. I have a\n     corn patch in mother's garden, and every two weeks I cut it and\n     give it to my goat to eat. I began to study French last winter,\n     and I finished the introductory course last night. I am ten years\n     old.\n\n  MATTIE P.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\n  NEW YORK CITY.\n\n     I thought perhaps the boys and girls would like to hear about my\n     Polly. It is just beginning to talk. Its only bad habit is that it\n     will learn slang words. The other day a lady came to see us, and\n     Polly cried out, \"Bully for you, old fellow, come in!\"\n\n     We use YOUNG PEOPLE for a reader in our school.\n\n  N. D.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\n  PLEASANT HILL, MISSOURI.\n\n     Two little birds have built their nest in a tree in front of our\n     porch. It sounds so much sweeter to hear them sing out of a cage\n     than in one, especially when they are wild birds. When the\n     raspberries get ripe, our missionary society will have a lawn\n     party in our yard, because it is very large. I am eleven years\n     old.\n\n  GRACE C.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\n  BALTIMORE, MARYLAND.\n\n     I have a little bird. It is a beautiful singer and a great pet. It\n     is a very funny little fellow. It used to escape from its cage so\n     often that we had to tie the door. We call it Dick. The other day\n     mamma had given Dick a bath, and tied the cage door securely, as\n     she thought. She left it alone in a room with the windows all\n     open, and about an hour afterward she went to put seed in, and the\n     cage was empty, and Dick nowhere to be seen. She hunted about a\n     long while, until at last she found him sitting on the round of a\n     chair. She had only to put the cage down, and Dick hopped in.\n\n  FANNIE S. M.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\n  AUBURN, CALIFORNIA.\n\n     I have a pet cat named Dido, and our neighbor has a cat named\n     Jacko. Dido and Jacko are great friends, and play together a great\n     deal. Mamma is Dido's \"meat man,\" and one night when she was\n     taking Dido to feed him, Jacko began to cry, as though he did not\n     want to be left. Then Dido ran back and put his nose up to\n     Jacko's, and it looked as if they were kissing each other\n     good-night. Then Dido turned and followed mamma.\n\n  RUSSIA L.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\n  PHILADELPHIA, PENNSYLVANIA.\n\n     I am in the Soldiers' Orphan Institute, and I like to read YOUNG\n     PEOPLE very much. My Sunday-school teacher made each boy in her\n     class a present of it. We are sorry that the story \"Across the\n     Ocean\" is ended. It was such an interesting story that we want\n     some more of it.\n\n  CHARLES V. F.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\n  HARMONY, NEW JERSEY.\n\n     I am a little girl nine years old. We moved here this spring from\n     La Fayette. My papa is a Methodist minister, so we have to move\n     once in a while. I have a brother and sister. We have a beautiful\n     Maltese cat, and twelve little chickens. We live three miles from\n     the Delaware River. My brother takes YOUNG PEOPLE, and we all like\n     it very much.\n\n  ANNIE JEAN H.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\n  PARKVILLE, LONG ISLAND.\n\n     I have a pet hen, but she does not lay any eggs. She is a very\n     cross hen, and she nips my fingers when I feed her. I had a little\n     goat, but it died. My papa is going to buy me another. We have a\n     little dog-cart, and a doll's house, and we play croquet, and\n     swing in a swing made of chains.\n\n  CHARLIE S. R.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\n  XENIA, OHIO.\n\n     I had YOUNG PEOPLE for a Christmas present, and I like it ever so\n     much. It comes every Wednesday, and I am almost always the first\n     boy at the book-store to get it. I liked the story of Frank Austin\n     very much. He was a very brave boy.\n\n     The only pet I have is my little sister, and I pity the fellow who\n     has not so nice a pet. She is the best one in the world. One day\n     at the dinner table, while she was eating a piece of pie, she\n     found a plum seed in it. All of a sudden she exclaimed, \"I found a\n     pie seed!\" and she rushed out and planted it, thinking it would\n     grow to be a tree with pies on it.\n\n  ROSCOE E. E.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\n  NORTH NEWFIELD, MAINE.\n\n     My little cousin sends me YOUNG PEOPLE. I had a dear little kitty,\n     but it died. Its name was Rose. Do you think it is a pretty name?\n     I am seven years old.\n\n  TEENIE J. B.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\n  PRINCETON, ARKANSAS.\n\n     Brother Ben and I take YOUNG PEOPLE, and we enjoy it very much. It\n     is a splendid paper for little folks, and I find that older people\n     like to read it too. I am eleven years old, and I study music,\n     drawing, and other things. Ben is thirteen, and he studies\n     algebra, geometry, and Latin. I have a beautiful pet dog named\n     Prince. A showman gave him to me. He will not let strangers come\n     in the yard when he is loose. He is black, and very large.\n\n  ANNIE S. D.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\n  PHILADELPHIA, PENNSYLVANIA.\n\n     I am collecting stamps. I have some French, English, Swiss,\n     German, and American, and a lot of Treasury stamps. I have a\n     little brother named Charlie. He can not read, but I read YOUNG\n     PEOPLE to him, and sometimes mamma reads it to both of us. I\n     learned to write last winter, but I never went to school.\n\n  PAUL R. H.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\n  NEWARK, NEW JERSEY.\n\n     I am quite sick now, and I am going to write my first letter to\n     \"Our Post-office Box.\" I have a large cat named Louis. At\n     meal-times he goes right to papa, and waits for something to eat.\n     If papa does not notice him, he jumps up on his knee and pats his\n     arm to remind him. Then papa always gives Louis something to eat.\n     I am nine years old.\n\n  GARDNER M.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\n  HAMILTON, CANADA.\n\n     Here is a simple recipe for a jelly-cake for Puss Hunter's Club:\n     Three eggs; a small tea-cup of sugar; one cup of flour. Beat the\n     yolks and whites of the eggs together. This quantity makes two\n     layers; and as it bakes in a very short time, it requires very\n     careful watching while in the oven. Any kind of flavoring may be\n     used.\n\n  \"FATINITZA.\"\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\n  DANVILLE, ILLINOIS.\n\n     Here is one of my own recipes for kisses: Beat the whites of four\n     eggs to a froth; then beat in slowly two cups of white sugar.\n     Spread greased paper on a baking-pan, and drop the mixture on it,\n     a spoonful at a time. Bake in an oven not too hot, until a little\n     brown.\n\n  C. H. S.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\n  BROOKLYN, NEW YORK.\n\n     I am ten years old. I have no pets but a dear little sister, who\n     is as nice as all the pets in the world. I tried the recipe for\n     sugar-candy, and found it very nice. I go to school every day.\n\n  M. H. S.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\n     I made two flower beds a few days ago, and the hens scratched them\n     very badly. I am eleven years old, and I go to school, and have\n     lots of fun. I have no pets now, but I did have a pet robin that I\n     was very fond of.\n\n     I tried Nellie H.'s recipe for making sugar-candy, and it was very\n     nice. Here is a recipe of my own for her to try: One pound of\n     white sugar; six table-spoonfuls of cream; one of vinegar; one of\n     corn starch; one of melted butter; the white of one egg. Boil\n     until it waxes when it is cold. It should boil about one hour.\n\n     I would like to exchange pressed flowers, both cultivated and\n     wild, with any little girl living in the Southern and far Western\n     United States.\n\n  ANNIE L. WOODS,\n  Canton, St. Lawrence County, New York.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\n     I would be very glad to gather birds' eggs to exchange with I.\n     Quackenboss and Samuel P. Higgins, if I knew how to preserve them\n     and send them by mail. Can some one tell me, please? I live where\n     there is much of the long gray moss so common in the South, and if\n     any one would like to have some, I would be glad to exchange it\n     for shells, birds' eggs, pretty minerals, or anything of the kind.\n     There are many pretty flowers that grow wild here. There are\n     blue-bonnets, _Phlox drummondi_, sweet-williams, lantana,\n     larkspur, verbena, and fox-glove; but they have nearly all\n     finished blooming for this year. I would like to know how to press\n     some of them.\n\n  LULA BARLOW,\n  Refugio, Refugio County, Texas.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\n     I am collecting postage stamps, and would like to exchange with\n     some of the readers of YOUNG PEOPLE. I have nine hundred and\n     seventy-six different kinds.\n\n  LEON M. FOBES,\n  No. 22 Cushman Street, Portland, Maine.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\n     I am thirteen years old, and I live on the right bank of the\n     Pecatonica River. If C. B. F. will look in a good encyclopedia, he\n     will find out a good deal about ants. I have a dog and a cat, and\n     a great many pigeons and chickens. I was out with my mamma the\n     other day, and we found ferns three feet high.\n\n     I have a collection of birds' eggs, and would like to exchange\n     with any of the readers of YOUNG PEOPLE.\n\n  CHARLES J. BURCHARD,\n  Freeport, Illinois.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\n     We have some of the handsomest white roses here that I ever saw.\n     When they first open, they are tinted cream-color. I live on the\n     Pecatonica River, and we have a boat. I think it is very nice to\n     ride in it.\n\n     I would be very much obliged if Harry H. M., of Windsor,\n     Connecticut, or some other correspondent, would send me a pressed\n     trailing arbutus, as I never saw any of that flower. I will\n     exchange some of our pressed flowers for it.\n\n  CARRIE HARDING,\n  Freeport, Illinois.\n\n     I am twelve years old, but people think I am older, because I am\n     so tall. We have a great many pets. We have a white horse, a black\n     and white coach dog, a Maltese cat, and two kittens; and mamma has\n     just raised a brood of four canaries, but the cat caught one of\n     them.\n\n     My sister and I tried Nellie H.'s recipe for candy.\n\n     I would like to exchange pressed flowers with Genevieve of\n     California. I have already pressed a few.\n\n  HATTIE D. CONDON,\n  P. O. Box 98, Ipswich, Massachusetts.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nE. G. KOCH.--The best thing for you to do is to go to Prospect Park\nLake, Brooklyn, any pleasant Saturday afternoon, where you can witness\nthe regatta, and learn full particulars concerning the yacht club.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nW. B. A. S.--The loon is found in all the Northern States. It is a very\nawkward bird on land, but a graceful and rapid swimmer. It is a\nremarkable diver, and it is thought that no other feathered creature can\ndive so far beneath the surface or remain so long a time under water. A\nspecimen was once found attached to the hook of a fisherman's set line\nin Seneca Lake, it having dived nearly one hundred feet to reach the\nbait. It feeds on lizards, fish, frogs, all kinds of aquatic insects,\nand the roots of fresh-water plants, usually swallowing its food under\nwater. It is a very large bird, about three feet in length, and spreads\nits wings fully five feet. It builds its nest in marshes, near water, of\nrushes and grass, which it twists together in a huge heap on the ground,\nusually among tall reeds. The eggs, usually three in number, are a\nlittle over three inches long, and in color of a dull greenish ochre,\nwith indistinct spots of dark umber, most numerous toward the broad end.\nDuring the winter this bird lives near the sea-shore, especially in the\nsalt-marshes on the Long Island coast, and along the shores of the\nChesapeake; but in the summer it goes as far north as Maine, and breeds\nthere in great quantities.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nEDITH H.--The peculiar spots often found on lemons and oranges are only\na natural appearance of the skin of certain varieties. Havana oranges\nand the best Floridas are more marked in this way than other kinds.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nA. R. A.--Your Wiggles are remarkably pretty, but they came too late to\nbe engraved.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nA. U. Y.--Japanese wine-flowers can be obtained in New York at nearly\nevery store where toys, novelties, and apparatus for parlor magic are\nsold. They are also called Surprises, or Japanese Curiosos.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nFavors are acknowledged from Carrie E. Lucas, Julia T., Charles and Fred\nW., Harry L. Chase, Bertha Frederick, Aggie M. Mason, Leon Munroe,\nEdmund I. Sheppard, John J. A. F., Graham Hereford, Emmie L. Brazier, M.\nWelchman, J. M. T., John H. Bartlett, W. Lloyd Clark, Rosa Hickman, Hugh\nD.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nCorrect answers to puzzles are received from Alexander Maxwell, Charles\nE. Boehler, Charlie D. Cutter, Roscoe E. Elwell, Altia R. Austin,\nJ. F. S., William I. Coleman, Maud and Gertie, A. H. Ellard, Maud\nMatthewson, \"Fatinitza,\" Perry Von Olker, Cora R. Price, Cora Frost,\nFred Purdy.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nPUZZLES FROM YOUNG CONTRIBUTORS.\n\nNo. 1.\n\nWORD SQUARE.\n\nFirst, a native of a certain country. Second, not under. Third, a\nflower. Fourth, the imperfect form of a verb.\n\n  EDDIE.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nNo. 2.\n\nDIAMOND.\n\nA consonant. A title. A warlike tribe of Indians. An intoxicating\nliquor. A consonant.\n\n  S. F. W.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nNo. 3.\n\nHOUR-GLASS PUZZLE.\n\nTo flourish. One universally shunned. A snare. In Daniel. A species of\ntree. Actions. Deportment. Centrals read downward spell the name of an\nearly English poet.\n\n  \"LONE STAR.\"\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nNo. 4.\n\nENIGMA.\n\n  My first is in up, but not in down.\n  My second is in smile, but not in frown.\n  My third is in eat, but not in drink.\n  My fourth is in meditate, not in think.\n  My fifth is in seed, but not in germ.\n  My sixth is in snug, but not in firm.\n  My seventh is in short, but not in long.\n  My eighth is in multitude, not in throng.\n  My whole is sought by old and young,\n  By bards its praises oft are sung;\n  But while it promises to stay,\n  It fades and vanishes away.\n\n  M. L.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nNo. 5.\n\nBIOGRAPHICAL DOUBLE ACROSTIC.\n\nThe name of a royal house. A Danish dramatist. A celebrated Moorish\nKing. An early King of England. An early King of Spain. A modern English\npoet. Answer--Primals form the first name and finals the second name of\na celebrated American inventor.\n\n  C. S. H.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nNo. 6.\n\nDOUBLE ENIGMA.\n\n  Our firsts in trouble, not in need.\n  Our seconds in guide, but not in lead.\n  Our thirds in tumble, not in fall.\n  Our fourths in height, but not in tall.\n  Our fifths in stanza, not in rhyme.\n  Our sixths in gymnast, not in climb.\n  Hid in these words two painters lie,\n  Whose names and works will never die.\n\n  PETER.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nANSWERS TO PUZZLES IN NO. 32.\n\nNo. 1.\n\nFarragut.\n\nNo. 2.\n\nBetter late than never.\n\nNo. 3.\n\n  1. Love, l_a_ve, la_t_e, _h_ate.\n  2. Vest, _l_est, l_o_st, _c_ost, co_a_t.\n  3. Cent, _d_ent, d_i_nt, din_e_, di_m_e.\n  4. Head, _r_ead, r_o_ad, ro_o_d, roo_t_, _f_oot.\n  5. Bear, _s_ear, s_t_ar, sta_g_.\n  6. Hard, _c_ard, car_t_, ca_s_t, c_o_st, _l_ost, lo_f_t, _s_oft.\n  7. Storm, stor_k_, sto_c_k, st_i_ck, s_l_ick, slic_e_, sli_d_e,\n      _g_lide, g_u_ide, gui_l_e, guil_t_, _q_uilt, qui_e_t.\n\nNo. 4.\n\nNarcissus.\n\nNo. 5.\n\nBab-el-Mandeb.\n\nNo. 6.\n\n      T\n    C I D\n  T I G E R\n    D E N\n      R\n\n\n\n\nADVERTISEMENTS.\n\n\n\n\nHARPER'S YOUNG PEOPLE.\n\nHARPER'S YOUNG PEOPLE will be issued every Tuesday, and may be had at\nthe following rates--_payable in advance, postage free_:\n\n  SINGLE COPIES                     $0.04\n  ONE SUBSCRIPTION, _one year_       1.50\n  FIVE SUBSCRIPTIONS, _one year_     7.00\n\nSubscriptions may begin with any Number. When no time is specified, it\nwill be understood that the subscriber desires to commence with the\nNumber issued after the receipt of order.\n\nRemittances should be made by POST-OFFICE MONEY ORDER or DRAFT, to avoid\nrisk of loss.\n\nADVERTISING.\n\nThe extent and character of the circulation of HARPER'S YOUNG PEOPLE\nwill render it a first-class medium for advertising. A limited number of\napproved advertisements will be inserted on two inside pages at 75 cents\nper line.\n\n  Address\n  HARPER & BROTHERS,\n  Franklin Square, N. Y.\n\n\n\n\nFISHING OUTFITS.\n\nCATALOGUE FREE.\n\nR. SIMPSON, 132 Nassau Street, N. Y.\n\n\n\n\n=MINIATURE YACHTS.=--Boys, send 3 cent stamp for Manual of Miniature\nYachts and Price-List. =O. M. BLUNT, 338 Humboldt Street, Brooklyn,\nN. Y.=\n\n\n\n\nELEMENTARY EDUCATION.\n\nBooks for the School and Family.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nARITHMETIC.\n\nFRENCH'S FIRST LESSONS IN NUMBERS. First Lessons in Numbers, in their\nNatural Order: First, _Visible Objects_; Second, _Concrete Numbers_;\nThird, _Abstract Numbers_. By JOHN H. FRENCH, LL.D. Illustrated. 16mo,\nHalf Leather, 25 cents.\n\nFRENCH'S ELEMENTARY ARITHMETIC FOR THE SLATE. Elementary Arithmetic for\nthe Slate, in which Methods and Rules are based upon Principles\nestablished by Induction. By JOHN H. FRENCH, LL.D. Ill'd. l6mo, Half\nLeather, 37 cts.\n\nFRENCH'S MENTAL ARITHMETIC. Mental Arithmetic, in which Combinations of\nNumbers, Solutions of Problems, and Principles of Arithmetical Analysis\nare based upon the Laws of Mental Development. By JOHN H. FRENCH, LL.D.\nIllustrated. l6mo, Half Leather, 36 cents.\n\nNATURAL SCIENCE.\n\nFIRST LESSONS IN NATURAL HISTORY AND LANGUAGE. Entertaining and\nInstructive Lessons in Natural History and Language for Primary and\nGrammar Schools. 12mo, Cloth, 35 cents.\n\nTHE CHILD'S BOOK OF NATURE. The Child's Book of Nature, for the Use of\nFamilies and Schools: intended to aid Mothers and Teachers in Training\nChildren in the Observation of Nature. In Three Parts. Part I. Plants,\nPart II. Animals. Part III. Air, Water, Heat, Light, &c. By WORTHINGTON\nHOOKER, M.D. Illustrated. The Three Parts complete in One Volume, Small\n4to, Half Leather, $1.12; or, separately, in Cloth, Part I., 45 cents;\nPart II., 48 cents; Part III., 48 cents.\n\nHOOKER'S FIRST BOOK IN CHEMISTRY. A First Book in Chemistry. By\nWORTHINGTON HOOKER, M.D. Ill'd. Revised. Square 4to, Cloth, 48 cts.\n\nFARADAY'S CHEMISTRY OF A CANDLE. Chemistry of a Candle. A Course of Six\nLectures on the Chemical History of a Candle, to which is added a\nLecture on Platinum. By M. FARADAY. Edited by W. CROOKES. Illustrated.\nl6mo, Cloth, $1.00.\n\nFARADAY'S PHYSICAL FORCES. Physical Forces. A Course of Six Lectures on\nthe Various Forces of Matter, and their Relations to Each Other. By M.\nFARADAY. Edited by W. CROOKES. Illustrated. 16mo, Cloth, $1.00.\n\nFRENCH AND GERMAN.\n\nFRENCH PRINCIPIA, PART I. A First French Course: containing Grammar,\nDelectus, and Exercise-Book, with Vocabularies. On the Plan of Dr.\nSmith's _Principia Latina_. 12mo, Cloth, 50 cents.\n\nFRENCH PRINCIPIA, PART II. A First French Reading-Book. Containing\nFables, Anecdotes, Inventions, Discoveries, Natural History, and French\nHistory. With Grammatical Questions, Notes, and a Copious Etymological\nDictionary. On the Plan of Dr. Smith's _Principia Latina_. 12mo, Cloth,\n80 cents.\n\nGERMAN PRINCIPIA, PART I. A First German Course. Containing Grammar,\nDelectus, Exercise-Book, and Vocabularies. On the Plan of Dr. Smith's\n_Principia Latina_. 12mo, Cloth, 50 cents.\n\nGERMAN PRINCIPIA, PART II. A First German Reading-Book. Containing\nFables, Anecdotes, Natural History, German History, and a Comedy. With\nGrammatical Questions, Notes, and a Dictionary. On the Plan of Dr.\nSmith's _Principia Latina_. 12mo, Cloth, 80 cents.\n\nCOMFORT'S GERMAN PRIMER. A German Primer. By GEORGE F. COMFORT, A.M.\n12mo, Half Leather, 50 cents.\n\nCOMFORT'S FIRST BOOK IN GERMAN. A First Book in German. By GEORGE F.\nCOMFORT, A.M. 12mo, Half Leather, 60 cents.\n\nCOMFORT'S FIRST GERMAN READER. The First German Reader: to succeed the\n\"First Book in German.\" By GEORGE F. COMFORT, A.M. 12mo, Cloth, 50\ncents.\n\nOBJECT LESSONS.\n\nWILLSON'S MANUAL OF OBJECT LESSONS. A Manual of Information and\nSuggestions for Object Lessons, in a Course of Elementary Instruction.\nBy MARCIUS WILLSON. 12mo, Cloth, $1.00.\n\nCALKINS'S PRIMARY OBJECT LESSONS. Primary Object Lessons, for Training\nthe Senses and Developing the Faculties of Children. A Manual of\nElementary Instruction for Parents and Teachers. By N. A. CALKINS.\nFifteenth Edition. Rewritten and Enlarged. 12mo, Cloth, $1.00.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nPublished by HARPER & BROTHERS, New York.\n\n_Sent by mail, postage prepaid, to any part of the United States, on\nreceipt of the price._\n\n\n\n\n[Illustration]\n\nTOO MUCH BIRTHDAY.\n\n\n  See poor little Jamie in mamma's low chair,\n  With the roses all gone from his cheeks so fair.\n  Too languid to look\n  At the picture-book;\n  Too tired even, I think, to care\n  For the wonderful story kind nurse would tell\n  To the dear little boy who has not been well.\n\n  Why did the roses so suddenly go,\n  And leave those cheeks as white as the snow?\n  Ah, Jamie knows of a little boy\n  Who had far too much of frolic and joy\n  On a certain day,\n  So merry and gay;\n  A birthday party it was, they say.\n\n  But Jamie will soon be well again,\n  Free from weakness, and free from pain.\n  The dimples will gather in chin and cheek,\n  And mischief again in his eyes will speak;\n  No more he'll care\n  To sit in a chair,\n  But all over the house for fun will seek.\n\n\n\n\nTHE BOTTLED SHOWER-BATH.\n\n\n[Illustration]\n\nProcure a small vial of thin glass; such as homoeopathic medicines\ncome in are best. In the bottom of this file with a fine file four\nholes, as represented in our cut; then fill it with water, and hand it\nto a friend, requesting him to smell it. As soon as he removes the cork,\nthe water will pour out of the holes at the bottom.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\n=Wuertemberg.=--The house of Wuertemberg, it is said, derives its name\nfrom the following legend: A poor burgher fell in love with the daughter\nof the Emperor of Austria, and as the two young people saw no prospect\nof obtaining the Imperial consent to their union, they fled together\ninto Suabia, where they bought a small piece of land, and established an\ninn. It stood at the foot of a mountain, and its possessor therefore\nwent by the name of the \"Wirt am Berg,\" or the \"Landlord at the\nMountain.\" One day the Emperor was travelling to Frankfort, and stopped\non his way at his daughter's house without recognizing her. She knew him\ndirectly, and persuaded her husband to make himself known to the\nEmperor, and to beg his forgiveness. Accordingly, taking their little\nson, they all fell at his feet, entreating his pardon, which he\nwillingly granted. Moreover, the Emperor created his son-in-law a duke;\nbut in memory of this occurrence he was to keep his name of \"Wirt am\nBerg,\" which subsequently became Wuertemberg.\n\n\n\n\n[Illustration: WAITING FOR THE CIRCUS.]","title":"Harper's Young People, June 29, 1880: An Illustrated Weekly","tradition":"myth-cosmogony","translated_text":null,"word_count":17628}