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    THE
    PANSY

    EDITED
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  _Volume 13, Number 35._   Copyright, 1886, by D. LOTHROP & CO.
                  _July 3, 1886._

THE PANSY.


[Illustration: UNPLEASANT COMPANY.]


"FRAGI AGRESTES."

"LET'S have a club," said Will Post to a group of his schoolmates; "we
can meet once a week in some place, and have a motto, and a password,
and everything, just like the big clubs."

"Agreed!" shouted the boys. "What shall we call ourselves?"

"The Do-Nothing Club," some one suggested; "we aren't going to do
anything, only have all the fun we can."

    Have all the fun you can,
    In all the ways you can,
    In all the places you can,
    With all the people you can,
    And as long as ever you can.

"We can have that for our motto," said one of the boys.

"Well, we only have a few minutes before the bell will ring: let's
elect officers."

So Will tore a few pages out of his note-book, and after some officers
had been nominated, each one wrote the names of those he wanted, on his
slip. The results were just being announced when the school-bell rang.

"The first meeting of the Do-Nothing Club will be held in our yard
to-morrow afternoon," called Will Post, who had been elected president
of the new organization.

So the next afternoon, immediately after school, ten boys wended their
way through the back gate of Mr. Post's yard, and seated themselves on
the woodpile.

"I know where we will go," said Will, "right out in the orchard in the
boughs of those two gnarly old apple-trees that just touch." Everyone
thought this a splendid plan, so soon the ten boys were in different
places in the two great apple-trees in the orchard.

"Has any one a suggestion to make as to the first adventure of the
Do-Nothing Club?" said the president, by way of opening the meeting.

"I have," said George Shaw, the treasurer of the club. "You know Mr.
Clay's pasture?"

"Yes!" they all said.

"Well, it's just chock-full of daisies and wild strawberries, and I
move that next Saturday we ask him if we can get some daisies, and
each take a big basket and get it most full of strawberries with a
few daisies on top, to make it look all right, you know;" and George
chuckled.

"I think it is a splendid plan, worthy of our honorable treasurer,"
said President Post. A vote was taken, which was almost unanimous in
favor of George's proposition, although there were a few demurs made at
first on the ground of it's not being "quite honest."

"Honest!" sneered Will, "as if it wasn't all right to refresh ourselves
in a big meadow, with what's there, free as grass!" So the objections
were silenced, and the meeting adjourned.

Now it so happened that Mr. Post's orchard and Mr. Clay's farm were
only separated by a high board fence. Close by this fence grew quite
a little coarse grass, and as Mr. Clay thought it took too much room,
on this very afternoon on which the Do-Nothing Club held their first
meeting, he had taken his scythe and spade, and had gone to cut and dig
up the offending material. The day was very hot, and he grew so tired
and warm that he determined to lie down in the shade by the fence for a
few minutes. But while lying there, he fell into a little doze, and was
only awakened by the laughter of the boys as they climbed up the trees,
getting seated for the meeting. He lay awake for a few moments, trying
to make up his mind to arise, and consequently heard the conversation
in the apple-tree, in which he became not a little interested.

Just here I must stop and explain that Mr. Clay knew his meadow was
very productive of wild strawberries, and had said to his son, a few
days before the time at which my story begins:

"James, there will probably be a quantity of strawberries in the meadow
this summer, and if you pick them, you can sell them at a good price,
which will bring you considerable spending money. Do you want to try
it?"

"Yes, indeed!" had been the reply, and so it was planned that in about
a week James should pick his strawberries, and have the money for his
"very own."

To go back now to the new club, I may say that the next Friday
afternoon (after the apple-tree meeting) the ten boys appeared at Mr.
Clay's door.

"Mr. Clay," said the president, "we've formed a new club lately--the
Do-Nothing Club, of which I'm the president, and George is treasurer.
We decided that the first thing we'd do would be to pick some daisies
out of your meadow, that is, if you would let us. You don't use them
for anything, do you?"

"Not at all," said the gentleman, heartily; "you are perfectly welcome
to pick just as many as you want. But don't step on any more wild
strawberries than you can help."

"We'll be careful," said Will, so he nodded good-morning, and the club
marched away. "Indeed we won't step on them," he added, when they were
out of hearing, "we want the use of them, and it won't do to destroy
them."

So bright and early the next morning the club marched to Mr. Clay's
meadow, each member armed with a basket, with a good-sized pail inside.
They were to fill the pails with berries, and completely cover them
with daisies. They worked hard all the morning. About ten o'clock James
Clay said to his father, "I guess I'll go out and help. They must be
having great fun."

"No, my boy," said Mr. Clay, with a twinkle in his eye, "I would rather
not."

When the town clock struck one, the boys had searched the meadow so
thoroughly that there was hardly a berry in it, and their pails were
nearly all full! Then they went into the woods back of the meadow to
rest and take their fill of the fresh fruit. Now you who have no idea
of the capacity of boys' stomachs, especially for berries, would hardly
believe me if I should state the exact amount that those boys devoured!
So I will not give it. Suffice it to say that there were _some_ which
they had to throw away, having no place to put them for safe-keeping,
and not daring to share them with anyone, for in that case, as Will
said, "the cat would be out of the bag." So it came to pass that the
rapid river which flowed through Snyvylville could have told, if it had
chosen, how one part of it was dyed as red as blood that afternoon,
and how it looked as if some awful deed had been done there, until the
_strawberries_ were all washed down stream.

On Saturday evening, divers little girls went about the streets of
Snyvyville with pails of wild strawberries, and the mothers or fathers
of every one of the members of the Do-Nothing Club, happened to buy
some of them for the Sunday dinner. But in each family there was great
amazement because the boy or boys thereof would eat no berries, and
because each boy had the headache and stomachache all day. "I don't
believe it was good for you to be out in the sun so long," said Mrs.
Post to Will, as she put a fresh cloth dipped in ice-water, on his
head. He made no reply, for he knew that it was not the exposure to the
sun that gave him the headache, but--quarts of wild strawberries! Too
much of a good thing is worse than none at all.

"James dear," said Mrs. Clay to her husband on Saturday evening, after
James, Jr., had gone to bed, "I don't believe it will be wise for Jamie
to pick all those berries out in the meadow. Couldn't you get somebody
to pick them, at two cents a quart? That would leave him quite a good
deal of money. The sun is so hot, I am afraid he would get sunstruck."

"I think that will be all right," said Mr. Clay, looking earnestly at
his newspaper; "I don't suppose you would mind at all if the person we
hired did get sunstruck?"

His wife laughed, but turned again to her mending, and said no more.

On Monday afternoon Mr. Clay went out to continue the work of banishing
the aforesaid offensive grass from the face of the earth, but lay down
again as he saw, through a crack in the fence, the Do-Nothing Club
wending its way toward the apple-trees where it was to meet to talk
over the success of the strawberry plan.

"Twenty quarts!" ejaculated George Shaw, "that was pretty good. I
hardly thought there would be so many. Wasn't my plan splendid, though,
Will--oh! I beg your pardon, Mr. President?"

"Fine!" said the president; "all that you planned for was, anyhow, for
I don't suppose you calculated for ten headaches and ten stomachaches,
as well as ten pails of berries, did you? As nearly as I can find out,
the other members of the club have suffered in these ways, like myself."

There was a good deal more talk; they decided what should be their
password, and a great many other private matters. They would have been
very much disgusted, I am certain, if they had guessed that Mr. Clay
was intently listening to everything that was said. Their motto was to
be "Fragi Agrestes," because, as John Clower, the only Latin student
of the club, announced, that meant "wild strawberries." Of course that
was to be used as the password, too. The seal was to be a leaf of that
plant, while the color of the club was to be red.

When they went home, Mr. Clay got up and went to work again, but he
didn't work as well as usual, for he had a plan in which he was more
interested than he was in demolishing the grass. When he got home he
sat down and wrote some sort of a letter which he sealed with a piece
of red sealing-wax, and a button which he had found in his wife's
button-box.

Thus it happened that on Tuesday morning, when George Shaw went to the
post-office to get the mail, he found a big yellow envelope addressed
to him. It had a red seal, on which there was stamped the outline of
a strawberry leaf. He looked at it in amazement, for the writing was
strange. He found the document inside to be sealed with the same seal.
I will give you a copy of it:


"FRAGI AGRESTES."

BILL.

    The Snyvylville Do-Nothing Club          Dr,
                    To James Clay.
          To----
    20 qts. wild strawberries, at .15      $3.00
    Pay for picking the same, at .02         .40
                                           -----
    Balance                                $2.60

                      Rec'd Payment,
          _July, 1879_.                  , Cr.

George stopped on the street in perfect amazement! Then rushed to
school, for the last bell was ringing.

At recess, he called a meeting of the club, and showed them the
document he had received.

Then there were grave faces and anxious discussions. How _could_ Mr.
Clay have found them out?

At last the president said:

"Well, we'll just have to pay him; there is no help for it. Every
one of the club must hand over twenty-six cents for his share. Here's
another thing we didn't plan for in the strawberry idea. For my part, I
wish 'Fragi Agrestes' had never been invented."

The club marched that very afternoon, in a body, to Mr. Clay's house to
pay their bill. No willing delegate was found to represent them. Once
there, the president had to make the speech.

"We've brought you your money, Mr. Clay. We can't imagine how you found
us out; but we hadn't the least notion of stealing! Somehow it never
entered our heads that it could be _stealing_, to help ourselves to
wild strawberries. I never thought of such a thing until I saw your
bill. There it is. Will you please receipt it? And we'll promise you we
won't be likely to get caught in such a scrape again."

"Thank you," said the farmer, putting the money in his pocket, and
taking up a pen to receipt the bill. "Boys, I'm not so anxious for
money that I had to have my pay for the berries you stole. But I
thought it would teach you a lesson; so I sent the bill to the
treasurer. And now I want to advise you to take a new name for your
club, for you won't prosper under the present one. When you aren't
planning to do anything but have fun, you'll get into mischief.

    Satan finds some mischief still
    For idle hands to do.

Change your name to the Do-Something Club, and you'll not regret it."

"I'm agreed," said Will; "and I'll resign. I have an idea. Suppose you
be our president, Mr. Clay?"

"I!" laughed the farmer.

"Good for you, Will," said the boys. "That's a first-class idea. Will
you do it, Mr. Clay?"

"Well," said Mr. Clay, after a moment's consideration, "I don't know
but I'll accept. It is quite an honor. President of the Snyvyville
Do-_Something_ Club!" and he laughed again.

I wish I had time to tell you the story of the new club! Under Mr.
Clay's presidency, they prospered; and became proud of their club. True
to their name, they "did" many things which were for their good, not
only, but for the good of others.

Some day I may write out their story, or a piece of it.

They grew to be very fond of their president, as well as very proud of
his schemes.

The Do-Nothing Club had but one report in the note-book of their
secretary:

    _Resolved_, That the Snyvyville Do-Nothing Club change
    its name to the "Do-Something Club," as it has not
    prospered under the former title, but has been the
    cause of ten headaches, ten stomachaches, and the loss
    of two dollars and sixty cents, to the members thereof.

                 (Signed)      JAMES POWELL, _Sec'y._

The Club still kept its motto, "Fragi Agrestes," for they thought that
"wild strawberries" had taught them a lesson they would not soon forget.

                                                         PARANETE.

[Illustration: "ME TUMBLING OVER AGAINST MOTHER."]


SIX O'CLOCK IN THE EVENING.

    ONE THING I KNOW, THAT WHEREAS I WAS BLIND, NOW I SEE.

    I AM THE GOOD SHEPHERD; THE GOOD SHEPHERD GIVETH HIS
    LIFE FOR THE SHEEP.

    OUR FRIEND LAZARUS SLEEPETH, BUT I GO THAT I MAY AWAKE
    HIM OUT OF SLEEP.

    JESUS SAID UNTO HER, I AM THE RESURRECTION AND THE LIFE.

"THIS first verse makes me think of another of my miracles," Grandma
said, with a very tender smile on her face.

"Grandma," said Marion, with almost a shade of reproach in her voice,
"did you truly have miracles done for you?"

"I thought so, child, and I don't know but I thought pretty near right.
They were the dear Lord's loving kindnesses and tender mercies to a
naughty child; and those are miracles enough for reasonable people.
I'll tell you the story, and see what you think about it.

"It was the afternoon before the Fourth, and everybody in our house
was very busy. There was to be a great celebration the next day, the
largest which had ever been in that part of the world. The speaker was
to stop at our house, and several of the leading men were coming to
take supper with him, and in the evening there was to be fireworks,
great wonderful fire balls, such as we don't see now-days, and fine
doings of all sorts.

"By the middle of the afternoon, mother began to look very tired. I can
seem to see her face now, as she stood looking at the sideboard with
its rows of shining dishes. 'That drawer ought to be cleared out,' said
she, 'and fixed for the changes of knives, and forks, and spoons, but
I don't know who can do it; everybody's hands are full and it is full
of all sorts of things.' She wasn't speaking to anybody in particular,
just talking low, to herself. I was only a little girl eight years
old, and not supposed to notice all that was going on. But I heard it,
and decided then and there, that as soon as my mother went out I would
set to work at that drawer myself. And I did. It was a hard drawer to
clear out; one of those places where in a hurried time things get put
that don't belong, and you don't exactly know where they _do_ belong.
I worked away at it faithfully, until my back ached with stooping, and
every nerve in my body seemed to be on the jump. Over in the corner sat
my grandfather, talking with an old friend of his. They did not notice
me, but I heard snatches of their talk, about the grand doings which
were to be on the next day, and it seemed to me I could hardly wait. My
work was almost done, and I was busy with the thought of how pleased
mother would be, when I took up a long delicate glass bottle filled
with some liquid. The glass was so thin I tried to look through it; as
I held it up against the light, my hands must have been trembling with
weariness and eagerness, for somehow, I never could understand how,
that bottle slipped from me and shivered to bits on the hard floor!
The liquid spilled over my hands and spattered on my face and eyes,
and in an instant they began to burn as though they were in a flame of
fire! To make matters worse, I clapped both hands, all wet as they
were, right on my eyes. This made the pain more dreadful than ever.
It all happened in a moment of time: the scream, and mother running,
and grandfather springing up, and me tumbling over against mother, and
hearing her say with a groan: 'Oh Ruthie, Ruthie! she has put out her
eyes!'

"Then for a few blessed minutes I was free from pain; I fainted dead
away for the first time in my life! The faint didn't last long; the
pain in my eyes was too great. Oh! it was a dreadful time. Father went
hurrying after the doctor, and mother tried cold water, and milk, and
bran-water, and everything else she could think of, to relieve my
suffering."

"But, Grandma, what was it? What had you done?" interrupted Marion, her
face pale with sympathy.

"There was some dreadful liquid in the bottle, dear, that had burned
grandma's eyes, and her skin, wherever it touched, and the doctor was
afraid my eyes were put out. Mother said afterwards that she knew he
thought so, by the look on his face, and by his refusing to answer her
questions.

"He put something on, at last, which relieved the pain a little, then
my eyes were bandaged, and I was put to bed. My dear mother, when she
stooped down to kiss me after everything was done, did not forget to
whisper that I was a dear little girl to try to help mother, and that
the drawer looked beautiful.

"I sat up to the supper table that very night, but with bandaged eyes
that ached a good deal, and every one at the table wore a sober face; I
could tell, by the sound of their voices. I don't know whether father
just _happened_ to read those verses at family worship, that night, or
whether the trouble made him think of them. However it was, he read
the story of the blind man who was cured; and who, when the people
questioned and _questioned_ him, could give only this answer: 'One
thing I know, that whereas I was blind, now I see.'

"Father's voice trembled over the word 'blind,' and mother cried; I
could feel her tears dropping on my hand. But I did not shed a tear;
my heart was full of a great thought. Jesus had cured that blind man
with a touch, and my Bible verse the Sunday before, had been 'Jesus
Christ, the same yesterday, to-day, and forever.' Why couldn't he cure
people in just the same way now? Why didn't he? Perhaps he did, only
I had never heard of it. Father's prayer made the thought all the
stronger. He asked the Lord to bless their little girl, and, if it was
possible, to take away the fear which was gnawing at their hearts. He
didn't think I would understand. Mother did not know she had screamed
out that I had put out my eyes. But I heard her. I knew all about it. I
remembered the time when the dog slipped his chain and came and saved
me; I thought God sent him; and God could in some way cure me now.
Every waking minute that night I prayed to him to cure me. The first
thing I did in the morning was to pray the same prayer. I will not deny
that I thought about the beautiful fire balls, and all the wonders of
the evening, and I asked God, since he could do it just as well, to
cure me _quick_, so I could see all the lovely things.

"Well, children," Grandma dropped her knitting, and, leaning forward,
folded her soft white hands over her knee in an impressive way she had,
and looked her attentive little audience squarely in the face, "I don't
know how it was; I don't pretend to explain it, never have, but when
the doctor came that morning, and said he must take off the bandages
to bathe my eyes, and warned me that the light would hurt very much,
and I must try to be brave, and told my mother that when he saw my
eyes, he could give her an idea of how many months I would have to wear
the bandage, and when everything was ready, and mother had me in her
arms, and father sat the other side, and held my hand, and the doctor
unpinned the bandage, I looked straight at father with two eyes that
did not even wink, and said: 'Father, they don't hurt a bit; _not a
single bit_.'

"Why, we had almost as much of a time then as he had had the night
before! That doctor couldn't seem to believe it; he was determined my
eyes should burn, and sure that I could not see father's face. But I
saw everything as plain as I do this minute. And my eyes did not hurt
at all. I continued to _see_ all day; and at night saw the fire balls,
and laughed and made merry with the rest. The happiest girl, I do
believe, that ever sat down to a Fourth of July feast. I believed that
the dear Lord had touched my eyes and cured them."

"But, Grandma," said skeptical Ralph, "do you _really_ think it was so?
Don't you suppose the stuff in the bottle was weaker than they thought,
and the doctor's medicine, and the night's sleep, cured your eyes?"

"I don't know," said Grandma, taking up her knitting again; "all I
know, is this: the stuff burned so that I thought for a minute the
whole of me was on fire; and when I came out of my faint, and tried to
look up at mother, I couldn't see a thing! And they all believed that
if my eyesight was not quite gone, it would be months and _months_
before I could see again; and never, so well as before. And I know
that in the morning when the bandage was taken off, I could see a
good deal better than I can now, and my eyes never ached a bit from
it afterwards. It is a little piece of the old story. Grandma can't
explain it, couldn't then; 'One thing I knew; that whereas I was blind,
now I see.'"

                                                         PANSY.


THE BOY AND THE BIRD.

    "GO, weed in the garden till half after ten,"
    Rob's mother said, sharply. "I'll not speak again."
    "Dear me," said Rob, sighing, "I wish I could be
    The robin that's singing up there in the tree.
    Birds never weed gardens--they never bring wood,
    They do as I'd like to, and would if I could.
    They've nothing to trouble them, only to sing,
    And rock on the branch when they're not on the wing."
    "See here, little boy," said the Robin to Rob,
    "Though you think I am idle I'm planning a job.
    Four nestlings to care for--such great hungry things!
    There isn't much rest for a father bird's wings.
    The cats try to catch us--the boys are as bad.
    Birds have work, wants and worries like others, my lad.
    Be content as God made us, as bird, boy, or man,
    And do what needs doing the best way we can."
              --EBEN E. REXFORD, _in Central Presbyterian_.

[Illustration: TWO WILFUL LITTLE BROTHERS.]




    _Volume 13, Number 36._      Copyright, 1886, by D. LOTHROP & CO.
                      _July 10, 1886._

THE PANSY.


[Illustration: THREE THIRSTY BOSSIES.]


REACHING OUT.

(_A further Account of Nettie Decker and her Friends._)

BY PANSY.


CHAPTER IX.

ONE bright and never-to-be-forgotten day, Nettie and Jerry stood
together in the "new" room and surveyed with intense satisfaction
all its appointments. They were ready to begin business. On that
very evening the room was to be "open to the public!" They looked at
each other as they repeated that large-sounding phrase, and laughed
gleefully.

There had been a great deal to do to get ready. Hours and even days
had been spent in planning. It astonished both these young people to
discover how many things there were to think of, and get ready for,
and guard against, before one could go into business. There was a time
when with each new day, new perplexities arose. During those days Jerry
had spent a good deal of his leisure in fishing; both because at the
Smiths, and also at the Deckers, fish were highly prized, but also
because, as he confided to Nettie, "a fellow could somehow think a
great deal better when his fingers were at work, and when it was still
everywhere about him."

There were times, however, when his solitude was disturbed. There had
been one day in particular when something happened about which he did
not tell Nettie. He was in his fishing suit, which though clean and
whole was not exactly the style of dress which a boy would wear to a
party, and he stood leaning against a rail fence, rod in hand, trying
to decide whether he should try his luck on that side, or jump across
the logs to a shadier spot; trying also to decide just how they could
manage to get another lamp to stand on the reading table, when he heard
voices under the trees just back of him.

They were whispering in that sort of penetrating whisper that floats so
far in the open air, and which some, girls, particularly, do not seem
to know can be heard a few feet away. Jerry could hear distinctly;
in fact unless he stopped his ears with his hands he could not help
hearing.

And the old rule, that listeners never hear any good of themselves,
applied here.

"There's that Jerry who lives at Smiths," said whisperer number one,
"do look what a fright; I guess he has borrowed a pair of Job Smith's
overalls! Isn't it a shame that such a nice-looking boy is deserted in
that way, and left to run with all sorts of people?"

"I heard that he wasn't deserted; that his father was only staying out
West, or down South, or somewhere for awhile."

"Oh! that's a likely story," said whisperer number one, her voice
unconsciously growing louder. "Just as if any father who _was_ anybody,
would leave a boy at Job Smith's for months, and never come near him.
I think it is real mean; they say the Smiths keep him at work all the
while, fishing; he about supports them, and the Deckers too, with fish
and things."

At this point the amused listener nearly forgot himself and whistled.

"Oh well, that's as good a way as any to spend his time; he knows
enough to catch fish and do such things, and when he is old enough,
I suppose he will learn a trade; but I must say I think he is a
nice-looking fellow."

"He would be, if he dressed decently. The boys like him real well; they
say he is smart; and I shouldn't wonder if he was; his eyes twinkle as
though he might be. If he wouldn't keep running with that Decker girl
all the time, he might be noticed now and then."

At this point came up a third young miss who spoke louder. Jerry
recognized her voice at once as belonging to Lorena Barstow. "Girls,
what are you doing here? Why, there is that Irish boy; I wonder if he
wouldn't sell us some fish? They say he is very anxious to earn money;
I should think he would be, to get himself some decent clothes. Or
maybe he wants to make his dear Nan a present."

Then followed a laugh which was quickly hushed, lest the victim might
hear. But the victim had heard, and looked more than amused; his eyes
flashed with a new idea.

"Much obliged, Miss Lorena," he said softly, nodding his head. "If I
don't act on your hint, it will be because I am not so bright as you
give me credit for being."

Then the first whisperer took up the story:

"Say, girls, I heard that Ermina did really mean to invite him to her
candy pull, and the Decker girl too; she says they both belong to the
Sunday-school, and she is going to invite all the boys and girls of
that age in the school, and her mother thinks it would not be nice to
leave them out. You know the Farleys are real queer about some things."

Lorena Barstow flamed into a voice which was almost loud. "Then I say
let's just not speak a word to either of them the whole evening. Ermina
Farley need not think that because she lives in a grand house, and her
father has so much money, she can rule us all. I for one, don't mean to
associate with a drunkard's daughter, and I won't be made to, by the
Farleys or anybody else."

"Her father isn't a drunkard now. Why, don't you know he has joined the
church? And last Wednesday night they say he was in prayer meeting."

"Oh, yes, and what does that amount to? My father says it won't last
six weeks; he says drunkards are not to be trusted; they never reform.
And what if he does? That doesn't make Nan Decker anything but a dowdy,
not fit for us girls to go with; and as for that Irish boy! Why doesn't
Ermina go down on Paddy Lane and invite the whole tribe of Irish if she
is so fond of them?"

"Hush, Lora, Ermina will hear you."

Sure enough at that moment came Ermina, springing briskly over logs and
underbrush. "Have I kept you waiting?" she asked gayly. "The moss was
so lovely back there; I wanted to carry the whole of it home to mother.
Why, girls, there is that boy who sits across from us in Sabbath-school.

"How do you do?" she said pleasantly, for at that moment Jerry turned
and came toward them, lifting his hat as politely as though it was in
the latest shape and style.

"Have you had good luck in fishing?"

"Very good for this side; the fish are not so plenty here generally as
they are further up. I heard you speaking of fish, Miss Barstow, and
wondering whether I would not supply your people? I should be very
glad to do so, occasionally; I am a pretty successful fellow so far as
fishing goes."

You should have seen the cheeks of the whisperers then! Ermina looked
at them, perplexed for a moment, then seeing they answered only with
blushes and silence _she_ spoke: "Mamma would be very glad to get some;
she was saying yesterday she wished she knew some one of whom she could
get fish as soon as they were caught. Have you some to-day for sale?"

"Three beauties which I would like nothing better than to sell, for I
am in special need of the money just now."

"Very well," said Ermina promptly, "I am sure mamma will like them;
could you carry them down now? I am on my way home and could show you
where to go."

"Ermina Farley!" remonstrated Lorena Barstow in a low shocked tone, but
Ermina only said: "Good-by, girls, I shall expect you early on Thursday
evening," and walked briskly down the path toward the road, with Jerry
beside her, swinging his fish. If the girls could have seen his eyes
just then, they would have been sure that they twinkled.

They had a pleasant walk, and Ermina did actually invite him to her
candy-pull on Thursday evening; not only that, but she asked if he
would take an invitation from her to Nettie Decker. "She lives next
door to you, I think," said Ermina, "I would like very much to have her
come; I think she is so pleasant and unselfish. It is just a few boys
and girls of our age, in the Sunday-school."

How glad Jerry was that she had invited them! He had been so afraid
that her courage would not be equal to it. Glad was he also to be able
to say, frankly, that both he and Nettie had an engagement for Thursday
evening; he would be sure to give Nettie the invitation, but he knew
she could not come. Of course she could not, he said to himself; "Isn't
that our opening evening?" But all the same it was very nice in Ermina
Farley to have invited them.

"Here is another lamp for the table," said Jerry gayly, as he rushed
into the new room an hour later and tossed down a shining silver
dollar. He had exchanged the fish for it. Then he sat down and told
part of their story to Nettie. About the whisperers, however, he kept
silent. What was the use in telling that?

But from them he had gotten another idea. "Look here, Nettie, some
evening we'll have a candy-pull, early, with just a few to help, and
sell it cheap to customers."

So now they stood together in the room to see if there was another
thing to be done before the opening. A row of shelves planed and fitted
by Norm were ranged two thirds of the way up the room and on them were
displayed tempting pans of ginger cookies, doughnuts, molasses cookies,
and soft gingerbread. Sandwiches made of good bread, and nice slices
of ham, were shut into the corner cupboard to keep from drying; there
was also a plate of cheese which was a present from Mrs. Smith. She had
sent it in with the explanation that it would be a blessing to her if
that cheese could get eaten by somebody; she bought it once, a purpose
as a treat for Job, and it seemed it wasn't the kind he liked, and none
of the rest of them liked any kind, so there it had stood on the shelf
eying her for days. There was to be coffee; Nettie had planned for
that. "Because," she explained, "they _all_ drink beer; and things to
eat, can never take the place of things to drink."

It had been a difficult matter to get the materials together for
this beginning. All the money which came in from the "little old
grandmothers," as well as that which Jerry contributed, had been spent
in flour, and sugar, and eggs and milk. Nettie was amazed and dismayed
to find how much even soft gingerbread cost, when every pan of it had
to be counted in money. A good deal of arithmetic had been spent on
the question: How low can we possibly sell this, and not actually lose
money by it? Of course some allowance had to be made for waste. "We'll
have to name it waste," explained Nettie with an anxious face, "because
it won't bring in any money; but of course not a scrap of it will be
wasted; but what is left over and gets too dry to sell, we shall have
to eat."

Jerry shook his head. "We must sell it," he said with the air of a
financier. Then he went away thoughtfully to consult Mrs. Job, and
came back triumphant. She would take for a week at half price, all the
stale cake they might have left. "That means gingercake," he explained,
"she says the cookies and things will keep for weeks, without getting
too old."

"Sure enough!" said radiant Nettie, "I did not think of that."

There were other things to think of; some of them greatly perplexed
Jerry; he had to catch many fish before they were thought out. Then he
came with his views to Nettie.

"See here, do you understand about this firm business; it must be you
and me, you know?"

Nettie's bright face clouded. "Why, I thought," she said, speaking
slowly, "I thought you said, or you meant--I mean I thought it was to
help Norm; and that he would be a partner."

Jerry shook his head. "Can't do it," he said decidedly. "Look here,
Nettie, we'll get into trouble right away if we take in a partner. He
believes in drinking beer, and smoking cigarettes, and doing things of
that sort; now if he as a partner introduces anything of the kind, what
are we to do?"

"Sure enough!" the tone expressed conviction, but not relief. "Then
what _are_ we to do, Jerry? I don't see how we are going to help Norm
any."

"I do; quite as well as though he was a partner. Norm is a good-natured
fellow; he likes to help people. I think he likes to do things for
others better than for himself. If we explain to him that we want to go
into this business, and that you can't wait on customers, because you
are a girl, and it wouldn't be the thing, and I can't, because it is in
your house, and I promised my father I would spend my evenings at home,
and write a piece of a letter to him every evening; and ask him to come
to the rescue and keep the room open, and sell the things for us, don't
you believe he will be twice as likely to do it as though we made him
as young as ourselves, and tried to be his equals?"

Then Nettie's face was bright. "What a contriver you are!" she said
admiringly. "I think that will do just splendidly."

She was right, it did. Norm might have curled his lip and said "pooh"
to the scheme, had he been placed on an equality; for he was getting
to the age when to be considered young, or childish, is a crime in a
boy's eyes. But to be appealed to as one who could help the "young fry"
out of their dilemma, and at the same time provide himself with a very
pleasant place to stay, and very congenial employment while he stayed,
was quite to Norm's mind.

And as it was an affair of the children's, he made no suggestions
about beer or cigars; it is true he thought of them, but he thought at
once that neither Nettie or Jerry would probably have anything to do
with them, and as he had no dignity to sustain, he decided to not even
mention the matter. These two planned really better than they knew in
appealing to Norm for help. His curious pride would never have allowed
him to say to a boy, "We keep cakes and coffee for sale at our house;
come in and try them." But it was entirely within the line of his ideas
of respectability to say: "What do you think those two young ones over
at our house have thought up next? They have opened an eating-house,
cakes and things such as my sister can make, and coffee, dirt cheap.
I've promised to run the thing for them in the evening for awhile; I
suppose you'll patronize them?"

And the boys, who would have sneered at _his_ setting himself up in
business, answered: "What, the little chap who lives at Smith's? And
your little sister! Ho! what a notion! I don't know but it is a bright
one, though, as sure as you live. There isn't a spot in this town where
a fellow can get a decent bite unless he pays his week's wages for it;
boys, let's go around and see what the little chaps are about."

The very first evening was a success.

Nettie had assured herself that she must not be disappointed if no one
came, at first.

[Illustration: TRYING TO DECIDE.]

"You see, it is a new thing," she explained to her mother, "of course
it will take them a little while to get acquainted with it; if nobody
at all comes to-night, I shall not be disappointed. Shall you, Jerry?"

"Why, yes," said Jerry, "I should; because I know of one boy who is
coming, and is going to have a ginger-snap and a glass of milk. And
that is little Ted Locker who lives down the lane; they about starve
that boy. I shall like to see him get something good. He has three
cents and I assured him he could get a brimming glass of milk and a
ginger-snap for that. He was as delighted as possible."

"Poor fellow!" said Nettie, "I mean to tell Norm to let him have two
snaps, wouldn't you?"

And Jerry agreed, not stopping to explain that he had furnished the
three cents with which Ted was to treat his poor little stomach. So the
work began in benevolence.

Still Nettie was anxious, not to say nervous.

"You will have to eat soft gingerbread at your house, for breakfast,
dinner and supper, I am afraid," she said to Jerry with a half laugh,
as they stood looking at it. "I don't know why I made four tins of it;
I seemed to get in a gale when I was making it."

"Never you fear," said Jerry, cheerily. "I'll be willing to eat such
gingerbread as that three times a day for a week. Between you and me,"
lowering his voice, "Sarah Ann can't make very good gingerbread; when
we get such a run of custom that we have none left over to sell, I wish
you'd teach her how."

I do not know that any member of the two households could be said to be
more interested in the new enterprise than Mr. Decker. He helped set up
the shelves, and he made a little corner shelf on purpose for the lamp,
and he watched the entire preparations with an interest which warmed
Nettie's heart. I haven't said anything about Mr. Decker during these
days, because I found it hard to say. You are acquainted with him as a
sour-faced, unreasonable, beer-drinking man; when suddenly he became
a man who said "Good morning" when he came into the room, and who sat
down smooth shaven, and with quiet eyes and smile to his breakfast, and
spoke gently to Susie when she tipped her cup of water over, and kissed
little Sate when he lifted her to her seat, and waited for Mrs. Decker
to bring the coffee pot, then bowed his head and in clear tones asked a
blessing on the food, how am I to describe him to you? The change was
something which even Mrs. Decker who watched him every minute he was in
the house and thought of him all day long, could not get accustomed to.
It astonished her so to think that she, Mrs. Decker, lived in a house
where there was a prayer made every night and morning, and where each
evening after supper Nettie read a few verses in the Bible, and her
father prayed; that every time she passed her own mother's Bible which
had been brought out of its hiding-place in an old trunk, she said,
under her breath, "Thank the Lord." No, she did not understand it, the
marvelous change which had come over her husband. She had known him as
a kind man; he had been that when she married him, and for a few months
afterwards.

She had heard him speak pleasantly to Norm, and show him much
attention; he had done it before they were married, and for awhile
afterwards; but there was a look in his face, and a sound in his voice
now, such as she had never seen nor heard before.

"It isn't Decker," she said in a burst of confidence to Nettie. "He is
just as good as he can be; and I don't know anything in the world he
ain't willing to do for me, or for any of us; and it is beautiful, the
whole of it; but it is all new. I used to think if the man I married
could only come back to me I should be perfectly happy; but I don't
know this man at all; he seems to me sometimes most like an angel."

Probably you would have laughed at this. Joe Decker did not look in the
least like the picture you have in your mind of an angel; but perhaps
if you had known him only a few weeks before, as Mrs. Decker did, and
could have seen the wonderful change in him which she saw, the contrast
might even have suggested angels.

Nettie understood it. She struggled with her timidity and her ignorance
of just what ought to be said; then she made her earnest reply:

"Mother, I'll tell you the difference. Father prays, and when people
pray, you know, and mean it, as he does, they get to looking very
different."

But Mrs. Decker did not pray.


BLUE BELLS.

[_A Flower Legend._]

    TWO cherubs were playing near Heaven's gate,
      Which an angel had left ajar;
    They were toying each with small silver bells,
      Whose soft chimes could be heard afar.

    As they tossed in play these musical toys,
      Some rolled through the half-open gate;
    And down from the high heavens blue they came
      Through the clouds at a quickening rate.

    And when at last they fell down to this earth,
      And rested in green fairy dell,
    Where each one had fallen there sprang a flower,
      The beautiful, graceful Blue Bell.

    For as they came down through the azure skies,
      They caught its deep beautiful blue;
    And still in the earthly flower is seen
      The very same heavenly hue.

    And the fairies can hear the low sweet chimes
      As they gently sway to and fro;
    Perhaps it's an echo of those soft tones
      Which the cherubs heard long ago.
                        LYDIA HOYT FARMER.


POEM FOR RECITATION.

TOMMY'S FOURTH OF JULY.

    YESTERDAY, mother, she said to me,
    "Now, Tommy, my man, it soon will be
    The Fourth of July, and I dread the noise--
    I dread the freedom of reckless boys,

    "The ringing of bells, the firing gun,
    Torpedoes and crackers, from sun to sun;
    I wonder if when those grand old men
    Declared for Freedom, it could have been

    "That they ever thought the boys of to-day
    Would celebrate in this lawless way.
    On other days boys seem nice and bright,
    I know that some of them try to do right,

    "But fired with the 'spirit of '76,'
    There seems to be never an end to their tricks.
    Now, Tommy my lad, just think it over
    And see if the _reason_ you can't discover."

    So I'll pull my "thinking cap" over my hair
    And sit out here in this sunny air
    And try to remember last Fourth of July--
    Somehow it seems to be long gone by.

    At night, I remember, we rang the bell,
    And nobody liked it very well,
    And all day long I was far from bright
    For getting up in the dead of night.

    And then, we followed the "Horrible" train
    And yelled and shouted, and yelled again;
    We chased it up the street and then down,
    Chased it all over and out of the town.

    It must have been _awful_, but none of us cared
    How the rest of the decent people fared.
    Then somebody frightened old uncle Bill
    Just as he was walking down the hill,

    Threw a torpedo, only for fun;
    He fell and hurt him, that's all that was done.
    Then a horse got frightened, and ran away--
    That was one of the things that happened that day--

    Broke his leg, and broke the carriage too,
    And the crackers were thrown by Charley Drew;
    Charley's father must pay the bill,
    So I guess this year _he'll_ keep pretty still.

    And Jimmy blew three of his fingers to bits--
    The way a toy pistol always hits;
    I ate so much I was nearly dead,
    And had a most awful pain in my head,

    And was just as tired as I could be--
    That was the way it finished with me.
    I think I've remembered 'bout enough;
    If that is fun, it is pretty "rough."

    I might go tell mother this very minute
    I don't see a bit of "reason" in it--
    I, Thomas, was named for the hero of all--
    That gentleman wouldn't own me at all.

    But I know I'll try to do better this year,
    If all the fellows do call me queer.
    This year, I, "Thomas Jefferson" Gray,
    Will celebrate in a rational way.
                          EMILY BAKER SMALLE.

[Illustration: TOMMY AND HIS SISTER CELEBRATE ON THE BEACH.]




    _Volume 13, Number 37._   Copyright, 1886, by D. LOTHROP & CO.
                    _July 17, 1886._

THE PANSY.


[Illustration: PUSS AND HER FAMILY IN THE HAY-MOW.]


WHERE I WENT, AND WHAT I SAW.

WE will start from New York City. Did you ever take a ride on the
elevated railway? No? Then we will take it this morning. Mount the long
flight of stairs, hurry your ticket into the box in waiting, and push
on rapidly, for the train is coming, and it is always in a hurry. There
stands the man on the platform, ready to open the iron door for us.
Spring on, get your seats, for others are crowding in. Now the door is
shut; "toot! toot! whiz!" we are off again!

We make a great many stops. "Fourteenth street," shouts the man at the
gate, and there is a rush of people to get off, and a rush of people to
get on, and away we go; and in almost less time than it takes to get
our breath, Twenty-third street, or some other, is shouted, and we stop
again.

At last Forty-second street is called, and we hurry off; everybody in
New York is in a hurry. Yet we have reached a quiet place; the New
York Central Depot. "A railroad depot a quiet place!" That astonishes
you, does it? Still it is the truth; I am not sure but you would think
yourself in a great public library, where people move quietly, and
speak low. There is no rush, nor bustle; and the room which we have
entered is so large that there can hardly be a crowd, even when many
people are there. Many doors line one side, and large clock-faces are
set over them; but they keep curious time; no two are alike. If you
watch, however, you will discover that the doors and the clocks are all
named. One is "N. Y. C. & H. R." another is "N. Y. & N. H." and another
is--something else.

The hands of the clock point to the hour and moment that the next train
on that particular road will be ready to leave the depot. All we have
to do is to look for the name of the road on which we want to travel,
and then study the clock over the door. Here is ours, "N. Y. & N. H."
We have still fifteen minutes. Before that time, the door is quietly
opened, and a man whose duty it is to see that we, by no possibility,
make a blunder and board the wrong train, takes his station behind it,
and looks carefully at our tickets as we pass; we are seated and away.

The train moves very rapidly, and the sensation is pleasant. No rocking
motion, and not nearly so much noise as we sometimes find. We chat
together pleasantly, without the feeling that we are talking in a
locomotive boiler, where work is going on. We make frequent stops at
pleasant villages, where green fields stretch out, on either side, and
where the air is sweet with the breath of flowers. One name is called
which makes us stretch our necks from the open windows to get as good
a view as we can. This is New Haven, "the city of elms," and the seat
of Yale College. It is a beautiful city; we can be sure of that, even
from the depot view. But we have not time to linger. Some day we will
stop there, and take a walk around the college. Now we must make all
speed to our destination. At last we hear the name: "Ansonia." And we
seize our wraps, and satchels, and umbrellas, and lunch boxes, and make
haste. What a pretty village! And what a strange one! The river cuts it
in two; makes another village on the other side, which, after all, is
the same village, or looks like it. There are many trees, hiding nice
old-fashioned houses, near which we get glimpses of many flowers. But
the buildings which most attract us to-day are not dwelling houses;
unless indeed a race of giants live in them. They are so large!
Manufactories? Yes, you have guessed it; the State of Connecticut, you
know, is famous for its industry. We have spent so much time in getting
here, that we will not be able to stay long in the great building
to-day. Still, let us stop a few minutes before this queer machine;
it is apparently eating wire. What a stomach it must have! Long coils
of fine wire rush into its mouth with such speed that one can hardly
see the process. How fast it eats! Such large mouthfuls as it takes!
about eight inches of wire at a bite. Now what? No, it doesn't swallow
the wire, it simply bites it off, and sends it on. Not far, for as the
wire is scurrying by a corner, some one of the wicked people who dwell
in this machine, seizes it and bends it double! Poor thing! But as you
would naturally expect, it hurries the faster now. Not two inches away,
it meets another enemy who in sheer ill humor, apparently, seizes it
and in an instant of time has given it such a pinch that its right
side is all crinkled; it will bear the marks of that grasp all its
life! It scuds on, without a groan, intent apparently on getting out of
that country as soon as possible. But no, it is seized again, and the
two ends of its poor body are rubbed hastily and mercilessly against
a rough surface, until they are like needles for sharpness. It takes
but a second, and then the wicked sprite seems to have had revenge
enough, and lets the poor wire pass. There is a little open place for
which the wire is evidently making; it hopes to slip down there out
of sight--hurry! almost there! Alas no, one more sprite reaches out a
long finger, and gives that horrid pinch to the other side! "Maimed for
life!" the poor wire groans, and at last, at _last_, having suffered a
life-time of torture, so it thinks, though really its whole journey has
not taken more than half a minute, it drops breathless and exhausted
into the box below. Let us go around and look at it, poor thing! Why,
how it shines! And what a merry company it has gotten among! Not alone
any more; literally millions of friends of the same outward appearance
as itself. "Hairpins!" you exclaim. Yes, indeed; hairpins for the
million. Can it be possible that the world will ever want them all?
But how pretty they are; and how smooth and fine their points are!
Besides, those horrible pinches which we thought were simply vents for
ill-humor, were to put those convenient crinkles into the pins, and
help them perform their duty in life. In short, the dabs, and pinches,
and grindings, hard as they were to bear, were the very things which
shaped a mere bit of wire into a useful member of society.

And, when one thinks of it, what a bit of time it took--this
preparation--compared with the time which they will now spend in
usefulness! No wonder the hairpins in the great box shone brightly when
at last they began to understand it all. The question is, little Pansy
Blossoms, can you and I, as we stand looking at them, and thinking of
all this, learn a lesson which will apply to our _human_ rubs, and
pinches, and sharp places? If this be so, then we shall be well repaid
for going, and seeing, and thinking.


"OLD ABE."

SOME years ago a man in the West saw an eagle lighting frequently upon
a spot high among the rocks. Observing her movements he saw her nest
was there and she was raising her family in that palace of rocks.
"Now," he thought, "is the time for me to find out if this grand bird
can be tamed." His neighbors said it could not be done.

He quietly resolved to try. But how to get an eaglet was the question.
Day after day he would go alone and examine the rocks to see if there
was not some way of getting to the nest. There seemed to be none. It
was a ledge, almost smooth, and one hundred feet high where the nest
was. No ladder would reach it, and if he should go around and climb to
the top, he would not be near, as it was many feet down.

One night as he lay thinking the thing over, a thought struck him. "I
will go to the top, fasten a rope and let myself down and capture one
and climb up again."

In the morning he was a bit wiser and said: "Now if something _should_
happen while I am down there pocketing a young eagle, I might need both
hands; in that case how could I climb up? I'll tell the secret to John
and Joe Grimes." So they went around to the top of the ledge where they
could look over down to the nest.

The old eagle was gone; but there were the five children, talking
together at a great rate, not thinking who were near by listening to
their conversation and about to knock at their door.

The next moment as they looked up they saw a man coming down by a rope
fastened about his body. He seized one and was being drawn up when
suddenly the Mother Eagle seeing from far away in the sky an enemy
enter her home, and, coming like a flash, dashed upon the robber and
would have torn his eyes out; but he fought desperately with his long,
sharp knife.

One of his blows almost severed the rope. John and Joe, however, tugged
bravely at the other end and their friend with his prize was soon safe
but panting at their feet. It is said that when he saw how nearly he
came to cutting the rope in two and falling a hundred feet, his hair
became instantly white from terror.

The young eagle was taken home and tenderly raised and became as tame
as any fowl in the barnyard. It grew to immense size--would fly away
out of sight among the clouds, but always return at meal-time and
behave like any respectable person. He thought much of his friends;
not so much of his friends' enemies. And he had his way of showing his
friendship.

And now you need not be surprised to be told about the queer things
that the eagle, "Old Abe," did in the War of the Rebellion in 1861-65;
how he actually went South with a Western regiment in which were some
of his friends, and during battles would fly high and hover over his
favorite regiment to cheer it on!

[Illustration: THAT PALACE OF ROCKS.]

After the battle he would come down and walk among the soldiers and
line with them.

The war over, he came back with his regiment and was received like any
loyal soldier, with great honor; and his State appropriated a sum to
maintain him comfortably in his after years.

There are over thirty references in the Bible to eagles. They are
remarkable. A concordance can point them all out. Hunt them up.

                                                         M.


A PACKAGE FOR ROSE.


NO. I.

AUNT ALICE was going away for a visit of two or three weeks.

Her trunk was on the little front porch waiting for Farmer Dodds,
whenever, with his fat white horse and rattling spring wagon he should
make his appearance coming over the hill.

Rose seated herself on the trunk, and lightly tapping her heels against
the side, looked off in a dreamy way toward the dusty road that wound
down from among tree-covered hills, on its way past their own white
cottage with rose-vines climbing over the small square windows, and
so prettily set down in the midst of an old-fashioned garden, with a
broad, straight path leading from the gate to the porch, and at that
season bordered with asters of all colors.

Farmer Dodds was not in sight, and Rose, now turning toward the left,
followed with her eyes the line of the road, where, having left the
slope of hill behind, it struck out across the level. Stubble fields
down there were yellow, the green of the meadows was turning into a
soft pale brown, and far off the horizon was like a rising mist of
purple.

"Aunt Alice," said Rose, stopping the tapping of her heels, "some way
the sunshine down yonder looks almost as if you could take it in your
hands."

"Tangible light?" said Miss Alice, coming to the porch to look abroad.

"What's that?" asked Rose.

"Why, just the opposite of 'darkness that could be felt', I think."

"Is it?" said Rose gravely. "But, aunt Alice," she continued, "I wonder
what I'll do without you here to ask questions of. And how will I ever
get along without the Saturday afternoon talks--I've got so used to
them, you know. I'll just be awfully lonesome."

"We'll have to plan a way to help that," returned her aunt. "Let me
see--how would you like to write a letter to me on the first Saturday?
Only you must be careful to write what you would be most apt to talk
about if I were here."

"Oh! I'd like to do that," interrupted Rose.

"And then," continued Miss Alice, "I could have a little packet for you
at the post-office. Perhaps grandma would let you ride to town with Mr.
Dodds, when he goes for his mail, and you could have the pleasure of
getting the packet yourself."

"That's a splendid idea!" cried Rose. "But what will you put in the
packet?"

"I don't know yet," replied her aunt. "That will depend upon the letter
you write to me. It may be some trifling present, or perhaps a single
Bible verse, such as I often give you on Saturday evening. But of one
thing you may be sure, there will be something in it that will be a
true answer to your letter."

[Illustration: AUNT ALICE FAIRLY STARTED.]

While they were talking Mr. Dodds' wagon had come rattling up to the
gate. Immediately everything was in a bustle. Grandma came out to see
the trunk lifted into the wagon--aunt Alice found that she had left
her gloves upstairs and must go after them at the last minute--and
there came Priscilla Carter running up the road with a great bunch of
bitter-sweet, which Miss Alice was to take to a friend. Rose thought
it was delightful, and kept skipping up and down the path, wishing all
the time that she were aunt Alice, with a new trunk and going to have a
trip on the cars. But at last good-bys were said, the wagon rattled and
jingled off, and Mrs. Harrison, Rose and Priscilla were left standing
quietly by the white picket gate in the pleasant autumn sunshine.

When Saturday afternoon came around Rose asked her grandmother for pen
and ink. Then drawing a square writing-table out to the porch, where
it was shady, she began the task of writing a letter that would tell
all that had been going on since her aunt went away. Mrs. Harrison was
sitting by the window sewing, and for nearly an hour there was no sound
save the scratching of her little granddaughter's pen, or now and then
a question from her as to how a word should be spelled.

But by and by Rose threw down her pen and pushed her chair noisily
back, exclaiming as she did so:

"Well, grandma, I declare! I've got it done at last! Wouldn't you like
me to read it to you?"

"Of course, dearie, I should like it very much," answered Mrs.
Harrison, glancing up from her sewing.

So Rose sat down on the doorstep and began to read as follows:

    DEAR AUNT ALICE:

    I started to school Tuesday, and I'm awfully sorry I
    was not there the first day, for my seat isn't one bit
    nice. I'd a _great deal_ rather have the one Altie
    Crawford is in. She can look out the window and see
    everybody drive by. There's a real hateful girl sits
    just behind me too. She is always twisting my curls
    around her finger; or if she isn't doing that, why, she
    is borrowing my white-handled knife--the one Mr. Dodds
    gave me. Miss Milton has a new blue dress. Priscilla
    took her a _great big_ bunch of white chrysanthemums
    to put in her belt, and she looked lovely. She is the
    meanest teacher, though, that I ever had. She won't
    listen to a word you say to her, and she makes me lend
    my eraser to everybody in school.

    I don't think that's one bit nice of her, and its
    most worn out, too! She just does it because it is a
    pretty one. There's a new boy named Robert Wilkie, just
    started to school, and Miss Milton pets him to death.
    She is always holding him up for an example, but I
    think he don't know his lessons any better than the
    rest of us. I told the girls that you were going to
    send me a packet, and they were all as _excited_ trying
    to guess what would be in it!

    I've been trying to be real good, and I help grandma
    wash the dishes most every day, _especially_ when she
    looks tired. Last evening I got supper all by myself. I
    fried potato cakes. The edges were a speck jagged, but
    they were just as brown and nice!

    Now I'll have to stop. I've thought and thought, but
    there isn't anything else to write about. I wonder
    what you'll put in the packet. I told Priscilla I most
    thought it would be a ribbon. She's crazy to see what
    is in it.

                               Your loving niece,
                                              ROSE.

    P. S. Priscilla says she can't bear that new boy
    either. Miss Milton sent her love to you.

"I think that is quite a nice letter," said Mrs. Harrison, when Rose
had come to the end. "But however your aunt is to answer it is more
than I can guess."

"Don't it seem a long time to wait until Saturday?" said Rose as she
folded the letter carefully and put it in an envelope which she brought
to her grandmother to address.

"The more patiently you wait the shorter the time will seem," returned
Mrs. Harrison.

Rose did wait patiently and cheerfully, and on Saturday afternoon it
was a happy girl who rode home beside Farmer Dodds in the spring wagon.

As they drew near the white picket gate she saw Priscilla sitting on
the horseblock.

"Have you got it?" cried Priscilla, jumping down, and running to meet
the wagon.

For answer Rose held up a square package wrapped in white paper.

"I don't know yet what is in it," said Rose when they drew nearer, "for
grandma told me not to open it until I got home. It feels flat, and
then there's something round, like a stick of candy, only its pretty
large."

The white horse had come to a decided stop by this time and Priscilla
held out her hand for the package, while Rose clambered down from the
wagon.

"I thank you for the ride, Mr. Dodds," said she, when she reached the
ground, "and I'll tell you what is in my packet the next time you come
by."

"All right," replied Mr. Dodds, with a sort of merry chuckle, "but be a
leetle careful how ye open it. It _might_ be candy, and it _might_ be
red pepper."

So saying, he drove off uphill.

"There might be something you wouldn't like," suggested Priscilla,
looking a little doubtfully at the package.

"O pshaw!" retorted Rose; "I know better than that. Let's get the
scissors."

                                                         HAZLETT.


OUR ALPHABET OF GREAT MEN.

R.--RUSH, BENJAMIN.

LAST year, all over this land, we celebrated a centennial. It was
not in commemoration of a victory upon the battlefield, it was not
the celebration of a victory, but rather as we observe with fitting
ceremonies the anniversaries of the firing of the first guns in any
contest of right against wrong, so in this last centennial year we
commemorated the first booming of cannon in the great war against the
rum traffic, the beginning of a war that is not ended yet; all along
down the century the booming has been heard, and to-day this moral
fight is waging fiercely.

About one hundred and forty years ago, near the city of Philadelphia,
a boy named Benjamin Rush was growing up. It is said of him that as
he advanced from childhood to boyhood his love of study was unusual,
amounting to a passion. He graduated from Princeton College when only
fifteen years old, and with high honors. He began the study of medicine
in Philadelphia, but went abroad to complete his medical education and
studied under the first physicians in Edinburgh, London and Paris;
thus the best opportunities for gaining knowledge of his chosen
profession were added to natural abilities and the spirit of research.
He became a practising physician in Philadelphia, and was soon after
chosen professor of chemistry in a medical college in the same city.
While he is now at the distance of a century, best known as one who
struck the first blow for temperance reform, yet it is interesting to
know that when in 1776, he was a member of the Provincial Assembly of
Pennsylvania, he was the mover of the first resolution to consider the
expediency of a Declaration of Independence on the part of the American
Colonies. He was made chairman of a committee appointed to consider the
matter. Afterwards he was a member of the Continental Congress, and was
one of the devoted band who in Independence Hall affixed their names to
the immortal document which cut the colonies loose from their moorings
and swung them out upon a sea of blood, to bring them at last into the
harbor of freedom and independence. As was said of him at the meeting
in Philadelphia, last year: "He was a great controlling force in all
that pertained to the successful struggle of the colonies for national
independence." We are told that "He was one of the most active,
original and famous men of his times; an enthusiast, a philanthropist,
a man of immense grasp in the work-day world, as well as a polished
scholar, and a scientist of the most exact methods."

He was interested in educational enterprises; he wrote upon epidemic
diseases, and won great honor for himself, so that the kings of other
lands bestowed upon him the medals which they are wont to give to those
whom they desire to honor. And now let me quote again from one who
appreciates the character of this truly great man:

"This matchless physician, eminent scholar and pure patriot blent all
his wise rare gifts in one tribute and cast them at the feet of his
Master. He was a devout Christian."

At length his soul was stirred within him as he witnessed the
increasing evils of intemperance, and he wrote and published his
celebrated essay upon "The Effects of ardent Spirits upon the Human
Body and Mind, with an account of the means of preventing them, and
of the remedies for curing them." This is said to have been the first
temperance treatise ever published--the beginning of a temperance
literature. One hundred years ago, just one pamphlet of less than fifty
pages; now, whole libraries of bound books, besides scores upon scores
of pamphlets, leaflets and many periodicals devoted exclusively to the
cause of temperance! and nearly three quarters of a century after this
good man had gone to his rest, men and women from all over the land
thronged the city of his birth "To recount the victories won in the
war--and to strike glad hands of fellowship."

And now what made Doctor Rush great? What is the best thing said of him?

                                                      FAYE HUNTINGTON.


SOME REMARKABLE WOMEN.

O.--OSSOLI. (MARGARET FULLER.)

IF the young readers of THE PANSY had lived forty years ago, and had
been readers of the _New York Tribune_, they would, without doubt, have
been interested in certain letters upon art and literature written
by Margaret Fuller; or, if you are so fortunate as to belong to a
grandfather who stored away his files of the _Tribune_ in some now
long-forgotten chest in the attic, you may find in the old, yellow and
musty papers these same letters, and may read them now. I do not like
musty old papers very much! What's the use, when we have fresh ones in
such numbers that we cannot begin to read all that are taken by the
different members of the family?

Sarah Margaret Fuller was a native of Cambridgeport, Mass. Very early
in life she gave promise of the brilliant literary career which she
afterwards ran. She was a fine scholar even in childhood, especially in
the languages, and in general literature. Her education was carried on
in private. After she entered her teens, she became a teacher of the
languages in classes in Boston, and in Mr. Alcott's school, and was
at one time the principal of a school in Providence. While she was a
contributor to the _Tribune_, she was a member of the family of Horace
Greeley. Her views of life were modelled after the philosophy of Ralph
Waldo Emerson, and about the year 1839, or 1840, she gave a series of
lectures, or talks, though I believe they were called _conversazioni_,
especially for ladies, the object being the propagation of then
somewhat novel ideas. She also became the editor of a paper. She wrote
much, and with considerable brilliancy. Her "Summer on the Lakes" gives
pictures of the Lake Superior region. Her "Woman in the Nineteenth
Century" has to do with some phases of the "Woman's Rights Question."
In 1846 she went abroad, and married, in Rome, a nobleman, Giovanni
Angelo Ossoli. But she bore the name and the title attached to it only
a few years. For when she was returning to America, accompanied by
her husband, both lost their lives in a shipwreck. She was a woman of
strong passions, indeed it has been said of her that "She was noted
for her eccentricities and her ungovernable passions." Not just what I
would wish to be written of any of my young friends of THE PANSY. It
is a sad thing when a great and gifted woman misses the happiness of a
quiet spirit.

                                                      FAYE HUNTINGTON.

[Illustration: RARE SPORT.]




    _Volume 13, Number 38._   Copyright, 1886, by D. LOTHROP & CO.
                    _July 24, 1886._

THE PANSY.


[Illustration: NAPOLEON BONAPARTE. (_See page 301._)]


ST. GEORGE AND THE DRAGON.

BY MARGARET SIDNEY.


IX.

"YOU'RE in luck!"

Wilfred's voice was harsh and unpleasant, and he looked at St. George
in a way decidedly disagreeable.

George Edward went on whittling.

"Allen, it's no use to pretend that I'm not in an awful scrape by that
little affair over at Sachem Hill. Goodness! why don't you speak to a
chap?"

"I've nothing to say," observed St. George, proceeding with his work.

"Your tongue is ready enough generally," retorted Wilfred in a temper.
"Now, if it suits you to be an oyster, it don't me. I'd rather you'd
preach, infinitely."

"I don't do that," cried St. George, throwing down knife and stick,
and turning a countenance by no means saintly upon his visitor. "You
sha'n't stand there and throw that at me," he declared in a heat.

"I didn't say you did," said Wilfred coolly, "I only said I'd rather
you would. So go on."

"It's none of my business what you do," cried St. George, "I'm not
going to say a word about it."

"Confound you!" cried Wilfred irritably, flinging his long figure on
the bench amongst the shavings, and pushing aside the tools that lay in
the way. "Well, hear me, then--I'm in for it, and no mistake. Father
is so angry just because I didn't report in time that night, that he
threatens to pack me off to boarding-school. In fact, it's as good as
decided, and I go next week. Now, you've got the whole."

He threw himself down to the floor as abruptly, plunged his hands in
his pockets, and walked to the window.

St. George stood aghast, looking after him.

"Did your mother say so?" he asked at length, hoping, from his
knowledge of the Bangs family, that a reprieve might yet arrive from
the true head of affairs there.

"Yes," said Wilfred gloomily, "she's worse than father about it, and
determined that he sha'n't give in." St. George looked pityingly at
him.

"Well, it can't be helped," he said, longing to bestow something better.

"Of course it can't," cried Wilfred, whirling around; "a plague upon
you for saying that."

"You wanted me to say something," contributed St. George.

"I know it. But why don't you say 'I told you so,' or, 'If you hadn't
been a first-class idiot you'd have dropped that last confounded
skate!' Then I could fight you. As it is now, there isn't anything to
strike against."

"I'm as sorry as you are," said St. George dubiously, overlooking his
ill-success in the matter of conversationally pleasing his friend;
"whatever shall I do without you?" There was such genuine regret in his
voice and manner, that Wilfred forgot his irritation, and began to look
mollified.

"We've had awful good times," he said, coming up to the work-bench
again.

"I should think we had," declared St. George in that hearty way of his
that made all the boys willing to call him "capital."

"And it's perfectly horrid to begin again with new boys, I tell you.
I'd rather run away to sea!" Wilfred's courage failing him once more,
he looked the picture of despair.

St. George seeing it, left his own part of the trouble, and turned
comforter:

"We're in for it, so all that is left is to face the music."

"Only half-yearly vacations," threw in Wilfred.

St. George's face fell.

"And no boxes from home allowed."

St. George had no words of comfort.

"And no extra 'outs' ever given for good behavior. If there were, I'd
set up for a saint," added the victim savagely.

St. George was still silent.

"And all letters must pass through preceptor's hands. Oh! I've seen
the bill," said Wilfred in the depths, "besides hearing father and
mother read it a good half dozen times. It's just as bad as it can
be--a regular old hole of a prison, is Doctor Gowan's Select School for
Boys," throwing into his voice as much animosity as he was capable of.

St. George indulged in one or two uneasy turns about the room--his
workshop, made out of a part of the generous garret that crowned the
old house.

Was not this a terrible punishment indeed for a boy's misdemeanor? Too
terrible, it seemed to him, and he felt a growing bitterness in his
heart toward the parents who could plan and carry it out, and thus mar,
not only the happiness of their own son, but that of a large circle of
boys who were to lose a jolly companion.

But at last conscience spoke: "You are wrong. You _know_ that Wilfred
has done many things of late that have tried the patience of his
father, his mother, and his teachers. You _know_ that they have borne
with his increasing unfaithfulness--that they have labored with the
boy, hoping and praying for better things. You _know_ they take this
course feeling it best for him, and while it is hard for him and for
you, it must be borne, realizing it to be the result of the boy's own
course. You _know_ all this, now give the case the justice in your own
mind that is its due."

St. George turned around and frankly put out his hand.

"It's right you go," he said quite simply, "we'll all try to get along
till vacation, old boy."

Wilfred, finding no pity forthcoming, put his hand within the brown
palm, waiting for it.

"Keep the rest of the chums together," he begged.

"I'll do my best."

"And remember, we're to go to the same college."

"All right."

"And chum it there."

"All right."

"And I wish," Wilfred looked steadily into the blue eyes gazing into
his, "I hadn't done it--dallied over those old skates--but minded
father."

St. George bit his lip, but yet he would _not_ preach.

"I'll give you my word it's the last time I'll ever get caught that
way."

The blue eyes leaped into sudden fire, and Wilfred's hand was wrung
hard.

"All _right_, old fellow."


A GAME OF ENGLISH HISTORY.

THEY sat around a small table, half a dozen bright boys and girls.
Questions and answers flew back and forth, literally, for were they not
printed upon slips of pasteboard which were handed about with exceeding
rapidity? Upon listening carefully, it was discoverable that they were
playing a game of English history.

Mr. Dalton, the father of the boy who was the host of the evening,
stood behind his son's chair looking on and smiling at their eagerness.
Presently he said, during a pause in the game;

"Well, boys, you do well; you certainly have a number of interesting
facts and dates fastened in your memories, but it occurs to me to
wonder if you know anything more than the mere fact. For instance,
take this question which is the first that comes to mind, 'What two
remarkable events in the reign of Charles the Second?' and the answer,
'The Great Plague and Fire in London.' Now what more do you know of
those events?"

Fred Dalton looked up quickly. "I know a little about the Fire, but
I do not know about the Plague. I suppose that there was a sort of
epidemic raged in London at that time."

"And it must have raged extensively or it would not have been called
the Great Plague, and have got into history," said Will Ely.

"You are both very good at supposing," said Mr. Dalton, laughing, "but
it is sometimes better to _know_ about a thing than to guess at it."

"I have read an account of the Plague," said Fred Smith. "It raged
several months, all one summer, and one third of the people of the city
died. Great numbers fled from the city, and so many died that they
could not have any burial service, but just buried them in a great pit
in the night. They built great bonfires in the streets hoping that the
fire and smoke would prevent the spread of the disease, but heavy rains
put out the fires. It was a dreadful time!"

"Indeed it was," said Mr. Dalton; "the accounts of it are harrowing.
And now what do you know of the Great Fire, Fred?"

"I know that it started in a baker's shop near London Bridge, and that
it burned over about five sixths of the city. It burned three days
and nights. It was in September, after a very hot and dry summer, so
that the houses built of wood were in a well-seasoned state, and made
first-rate kindling wood. And then there was a wind that fanned the
fire and carried sparks and cinders a long distance, so that new fires
kept breaking out in different parts of the city. It is said that there
were two hundred thousand people who lost their homes, and that the
streets leading out of the city were barricaded with broken-down wagons
which the people flying from the fire had overloaded with their goods."

[Illustration: BABY HARRY.]

"It was a terrible calamity," said Mr. Dalton; "but like many another
it proved a blessing, for the new London was much better built."

"Was the fire set by bad men, or was it an accident?" asked one of the
boys.

"Without doubt it was set accidentally, though many people thought
otherwise. A monument was erected near the place where the fire started
in memory of those who lost their lives in that terrible time, and
there was an inscription upon the monument charging the Papists with
the crime, but this unjust accusation was afterwards removed by the
order of the public authorities. But I will not hinder your game any
longer."

"We like this sort of hindering," said one of the boys. "It makes it
more interesting."

Mr. Dalton soon returned to say, "Boys, there is a 'Great Fire' in the
kitchen, and a pan of corn waiting to be popped, and a Bridget there
who does not think boys a 'Great Plague.'"

In less than half a minute there were no boys sitting around that table!

                                                         F. H.


BABY HARRY.

    BABY HARRY, three years old;
    Eyes of blue and hair of gold;
    Rosy cheeks which dimples grace;
    Loving, trustful little face
                  Of my boy.

    "Mamma, please me wants a drink,
    Can 'oo get it, does 'oo fink?"
    Questioned thus my baby boy,
    As he dropped his book and toy
                  Carelessly.

    "Mamma's busy, she must sew;
    Can't my darling baby go
    And ask Bridget for a cup?
    Tell her, 'Please to fill it up
                  Full of milk.'"

    Twilight shadows crept apace,
    Slowly lengthened on his face
    As he whispered: "I'se afraid,"
    And the curly head was laid
                  On my knee.

    "But," I whispered, "God, you know,
    Leads you everywhere you go,
    In the darkness or the light,
    And He'll make the way all bright
                  For my boy."

    Straight he went through room and hall,
    And I heard his sweet voice call:
    "Don't let nothin' hurt me, Dod,
    Don't let nothin' hurt me, Dod,"
                  Rev'rently.

    And my heart prayed, "Father, teach
    My boy to bring to Thee each
    Trouble, be it great or small;
    Be to him his 'All in All,'
                  Throughout life."

    Oh! for childlike faith, so bright,
    That through sorrow's darkest night
    We can journey toward that land,
    Holding to our Father's hand
                  Trustingly.
                          "ERVANIE."


NAPOLEON BONAPARTE.

I HAVE seldom known a boy who was not interested in the history of
Napoleon. To me his story is like a novel, and no character ever
charmed me more than that of his wife, the Empress Josephine. But I
cannot find it in my heart to admire a man who so ruthlessly shed human
blood. He stopped at nothing for his own personal advancement. Never
has any conqueror fought more battles perhaps than he.

All Europe seemed draped in the weeds of mourning during the years of
his power and greatness. I have often thought his reflections must have
been sad indeed, when, during the last five years of his life, he was
a weary exile on the little gum-tree island of St. Helena, with only
a few friends around him, and subjected to great unkindness from the
governor of the island.

[Illustration: ON ST. HELENA.]

St. Helena is an island in the South Atlantic Ocean, belonging to the
British. It acquired celebrity from being the place of Napoleon's
banishment. From the ocean it has the appearance of a lofty pyramidal
mass of a dark-gray color, rising abruptly from out its depths.

[Illustration: EMPRESS JOSEPHINE.]

But on approaching, a number of openings are discovered, forming the
mouths of narrow valleys or ravines, leading gradually up to a central
plateau. On these, at all openings where a landing might be effected,
military works have been erected for the purpose of making it secure.

What a contrast does his life there present, to the time when great
continents trembled before the power of his triumphant armies.

Napoleon Bonaparte was born in Corsica, 1769, and died at St. Helena,
1821, where he was buried beneath a weeping willow, for nineteen years,
when France demanded his remains, and gave such a funeral as few
perhaps have ever witnessed.

                                                         R.


[Illustration: ROUND THE FAMILY LAMP]

FOR the lovely midsummer evenings I should propose two games, one for
July and one for August. The July one is

    THE CARNIVAL OF THE BOATS.

If any of the Pansies live near a river or lake, and are accustomed
to row over the clear, shining surface, they can enter heartily into
this most delightful of games. I should first seriously recommend that
father or big brother John be invited to take charge of the boat,
or if there are not enough big brothers to go around so that every
boat can be under trusty guidance, there always is a big cousin or an
uncle, or perchance a paid boatman who is competent to assume such a
responsibility.

This being all arranged, the fun of trimming the small craft begins.
Let each boatload keep all matters secret, so that the grand surprises
that come out when the Carnival takes place, may form one of the
pleasantest features of the occasion.

Get Chinese lanterns, fasten a pole at either end of row-boat, low
enough so that the boats can pass safely under bridges if necessary.
Two poles at either end are pretty when decorated with gay lanterns.
Pass strings from one pole to another, and across from bow to stern.
Hang on these bright bits of tinsel, silver, or any other trifle that
will sparkle in the moonlight. Put tinsel or silver bands around top of
oars above the hands--and a band around the rower's arms, and around
caps. Let the girls wear white, with bright colors, and fancy hats or
jaunty caps, carrying garlands.

When all is ready, the forward boat must carry one who rings a bell as
the signal to start, also if possible some boys who can play on flutes
or horns. There should be sweet voices on all the boats that can sing
by a preconcerted plan, something in unison. As the boat sweeps around
curves, and dips into bays, and shallows, one could never witness a
prettier sight than the carnival presents. It is a regular game of
"Follow my Leader" on the water. There must be complete obedience to
the one who is leading, great good-nature, and a positive determination
on the part of every child who enters into the sport to try his or her
best to make all the others enjoy it.

After sailing around and around, singing and playing until tired, the
Carnival ends with tying the boats fast, and "following the Leader"
over the fields home, dropping the flowers at the doors of those who
were not able to take part in the sport.

May you enjoy this Carnival of the Boats, dear Pansies, making it a
bright spot in the lives of many, and a memory to gladden the heart.

                                                    MARGARET SIDNEY.


NAMES OF THE MONTHS.

JANUARY was so called from Janus, an old Italian king, and comes from
a Latin word Januarius. February comes from februe, meaning to purify,
because in that month the Romans offered sacrifices for purifying the
people. March comes from Mars, the God of War. April comes from the
word Aprilus, which means opening, because then the world buds and
blossoms forth. May, from Majores, so called by Romulus, in respect
to the Senators. June, from the Latin, Junius, or the younger sort of
the people. July, from Julius Cæsar. August, called from Augustus.
September, from the Latin, septem, meaning seven, being the seventh
month from March. October, from Latin, octo, eight; November, from
novem, nine, the ninth month from March. December, from the Latin,
decem, ten, being the tenth month from March, which was formerly the
manner of beginning the year.

                                                         R.


KINGS AND QUEENS.

    OH where are kings and queens of earth?
      The monarchs born to rule?
    They are here, and there, and everywhere--
      At home, at church, at school.

        The kings and queens in glad array
          A conquering army stand;
        Bright, glad-hearted boys,
        Full of frolic and noise,
        Laughing-eyed girls
        With their sun-kissed curls,
          An army born to command.

    Why are they kings and queens, you say?
      Bend low, then, while I tell;
    They are the kings whose hearts are true;
    Who love their parents, and honor them too;
    Who haste at the sound of father's voice;
    Whose truthful words make mother rejoice;
    Who not only _mean_ to do the right,
    But are doing it _now_, with all their might,
      Soldiers who love to do well.

    And why are the fair-faced girls the queens?
      My friend, they are royal born.
    They are loving to mother,
    To sister and brother,
    To father a shining light.
    They feel above doing wrong,
    And with smiling and song
      Make the dear home nest bright.

    O dear little kings and queens of earth,
      March on to conquer and win.
    Lift up the fallen, comfort the sad,
    Shine in the lives of the weary and bad,
    Help raise the sorrowing, pitiful earth
    Nearer the land where love had its birth,
    Till as saintly kings and queens at last,
    The burdens all borne, the trials past,
    You joyfully wait, at the palace gate,
      For King Jesus to let you in.
                         MRS. CHARLOTTE E. FISHER.

     -     -     -     -     -     -

PAPER made of cotton rags was in use, 1000; that of linen rags, in
1170; the manufactory, introduced into England, at Dartford, 1588.


THE DOG AND CHILD.

MR. ELIHU BURRITT gives in his book called "A Walk from London to
Land's End and Back," the touching illustration of the affection of a
dog in Truro: "I was sitting at the breakfast table of a friend, who
was a druggist, when he was called into the shop by a neighbor, who had
come for medical aid in a very remarkable and affecting case.

"He described it briefly and simply, but it would fill a volume of
beautiful meaning.

"His family dog had made the acquaintance of a neighbor's child on the
other side of the street.

"While lying on the door-stone, he had noticed this little thing
sometimes at the chamber window, and sometimes on the pavement, in a
little carriage.

"During one of his walks on that side of the street, he met the baby,
and looked over the rim of the carriage, as a loving dog can look,
straight into a pair of baby eyes, and said, 'Good morning!' as well as
he could.

"Little by little, day by day and week by week, this companionship went
on growing with the growth and strengthening with the strength of the
little one. The dog, doubtless because his master had no young child of
his own, came at last to transfer frequently his watch and ward to the
door-stone on the other side of the street, and to follow as a guard of
honor to the baby's carriage on its daily airings. He gave himself up
to all the peltings, and little rude rompings, and rough and tumblings
of those baby hands.

"One day, as the dog lay in watch by the door-stone, the child, peeping
out of the window above, lost its balance, and fell on the stone
pavement below. It was taken up quite dead! The red drops of the young
life had bespattered the feet and face of the dog as he sprang to the
rescue. His heart died out within him in one long, whining howl of
grief. From that moment he refused to eat. He refused to be comforted
by his master's voice and by his master's home. Day by day and night by
night he lay upon the spot where the child fell.

"This was the neighbor's errand. He told it in a few simple words.
He had come to my friend, the druggist, for a prescription for his
dog--something to bring back his appetite."

[Illustration: VIEW OF THE FALLS OF GIESSBACH.--INTERLAKEN.]




    _Volume 13, Number 39._   Copyright, 1886, by D. LOTHROP & CO.
                    _July 31, 1886._

THE PANSY.


[Illustration: HINDOO WOMEN OF BOMBAY IN CEREMONIAL DRESS.]


HOW SOME MISSIONARIES TRAVEL.

(_Extract from a letter written by Pauline Root, M. D., Medical
missionary in Madura, India._)

MY DEAR FRIEND:

Have you any sort of an idea what it is to travel in a bullock bandy?
The wagon itself I suppose to be somewhat like what the Western
emigrants used, in days gone by. It is supposed to be very comfortable,
and sometimes three or four persons occupy one; but how they do it, is
a mystery to me, for my two trips have been by myself, and I certainly
had no room to spare.

My first experience was in going to visit a sick missionary
thirty-eight miles away. It was during the rainy season. I took with me
a servant, who spoke English, and if it had not been for that, I don't
know what I should have done.

Bullocks were supposed to be posted along the road, but at the first
changing place, none could be hired. We went on, four miles, and there
succeeded in getting a pair so frisky that I seemed at times in danger
of losing my life. How they _did_ behave! One was especially unwilling
to be tied. More than once the bandy bumped down with me, and one
bullock ran away up the road, leaving the other beside himself with
fear. However, we got started at last, but I was afraid of something
happening all the time we had those animals.

The river, which in the dry season is simply a great bed of sand, in
the rainy season is sometimes so high that bandys cannot cross, except
on rafts, and sometimes not at all, because of the very swift current.

On our return trip the river was nearly its full width, and was rushing
along with a tremendous sweep. It was not very deep, however, and I
decided not to wait the river's pleasure, but to risk crossing it. It
took twenty-one men to get us across that river! Pudchi, my servant,
piled all my boxes on the board, which, in a bandy, is the bed, and
he and I perched ourselves on them, balancing as best we could. One
man went ahead to sound the river, two guided the bullocks' heads, two
drove, eight took the wheels, five pushed, and the others steadied us;
for more than once it seemed as if the current would sweep us over.
However, after the first scare, I felt safe, and rather enjoyed my
ride. Landed on the other side of the river, the water was emptied out
of the bandy, and we went on, for hours, through the palm-tree forests
and the banyan-lined avenues. The moonlight was almost dazzling, and
the banyan and palm-trees glittered like silver.

Would you like to know the cost of getting over that river? It cost
two cents a man! The roads were so muddy that we had occasionally to
get help, to push the bandy along. Once, in getting out of a hole, the
wheel was thrown over the bank of a tauk; the driver did not dare try
going on, with me inside, so I crawled out over the wheel! We were
thirteen hours in making the thirty-eight miles. Part of the time I
arranged my pillows and tried to be comfortable; but what comfort can
you take when, even by bracing yourself, you cannot keep quiet for a
moment?

After part of the thirteen hours were spent, I found I was indulging
in a headache. I did my head up in a wet towel, and tried to apply
"Mentholine" to my forehead; but the jolting of the bandy caused me,
when aiming at one temple, to thrust the instrument into the opposite
eye. After some experiments I thought it might be safer to make a dive
for an eye in the first place, and see where the cone would land, but
concluded not to try it.


MY HAND IN HIS.

A LITTLE boy who came before the pastor to be received into the church,
was asked how he expected to lead a Christian life, and he sweetly
replied, "I will put my hand in Jesus' hand, and I know He will lead me
right." This is just the thing, my little ones, for us _all_ to do, and
if we did it, we should not so often stumble and fall. We are so apt to
try to walk _alone_! But this we cannot do, in this dark world.

I called to see a dear friend lately, and she repeated to me a lovely
poem in which these two lines occurred:

    I'd rather walk with Him in the dark
    Than to walk alone in the light.

And I assure you the former is far safer for us than the latter. He
never lets us fall, if we hold His hand!


"WHAT SHE COULD."

ALICE MERWYN felt as though she had stepped into a new world that
Monday morning when she began her summer's work at Lime Rock. An entire
stranger in the neighborhood, expected to teach and manage twenty
restless and judging from appearances hitherto unmanageable children,
and she only seventeen, she was nearly overwhelmed.

And yet Alice Merwyn was not easily discouraged; she had a certain
self-poise which some people called self-conceit, others named
self-confidence, but which, name it as you will, grew out of a
knowledge of her powers coupled with a strong faith in her Leader.

As the days went by she found she had no easy task. There were two or
three disorderly spirits in the school who set at defiance all rules.
She was surprised at the utter ignorance which some of her pupils
showed of the Bible and religious truth.

She had resolved to open school with devotional exercises, as the
trustee had assured her there would be no objection to such a course.
None of the children brought their Bibles the first day, but in
compliance with her request there was quite a show of Bibles the next
morning. One or two said they had none, and these were allowed to "look
over" with those who were willing to share their books with them. Alice
gave out the chapter which she had selected for their reading, and one
little girl looked up in surprise to see them all finding the place,
and asked with a puzzled expression:

"Is it alike in all the books?" And then she as well as others had to
be shown how to find the chapter. And Alice explained that the Bible
was the word of God, and the books they had brought were all copies of
the words which God had given to his people. When she asked how many
knew the Lord's Prayer, only three raised their hands. And as for the
Ten Commandments, the most of the children had never heard of them. And
Alice thought, "surely here is work for some one."

During that week she tried to teach them the Lord's Prayer, but as they
made slow progress in the few moments which she felt that she had a
right to use in that way, she thought of a plan.

"How many of you would like to come here Sunday afternoon and be taught
about God and the Bible?"

Almost every hand went up, and the appointment was made and kept, too.

And every Sunday afternoon all through the summer Alice Merwyn spent an
hour in the dingy little country schoolhouse surrounded by a group of
children who soon came to hang upon her words as well as upon her chair.

"Dear me! I should think you had enough of those children through the
week without going there these hot Sunday afternoons!" said May Andrus,
the daughter of the lady with whom Alice boarded.

"Well, it seems that they do not have enough of me!" replied Alice,
laughing a little.

"But they have no right to your Sundays!" said May.

"I differ with you; I think they have the best right."

"I do not understand; I supposed you were hired to teach five days in
the week, only," replied May.

"True, Mr. Pratt engaged me for the school week, but I have another
Master, May. And he seems to be saying to me 'do this thing.' The
children need me, I think, and that is why I said they have a right to
a part of my Sundays."

"O, you are too good to be comfortable! Now if you would give up the
scheme and sit in the hammock this afternoon and read, how we would
enjoy ourselves!"

"I must not disappoint the children!" and Alice went down the dusty
road wishing that May was interested in the matter enough to go with
her.

After the lesson of that afternoon they lingered a little in familiar
talk. Fred Pratt had been the most unruly of all her pupils, but of
late he had changed greatly, and his example was having a marked effect
upon the good order of the school. That afternoon Alice said:

"I wonder how many of us hope we are Christians? or how many are trying
to be Christians?"

There was a little hesitation, a looking shyly at each other,
then three hands went up. And Alice's heart gave a great bound of
thanksgiving.

"What makes you think so?" she asked, and Fred spoke first:

"For one thing I think I am not as saucy to you as I used to be, and I
know I could not help it, if Jesus did not hold me back from getting
mad. O, Miss Merwyn! I have learned a great deal from you. I never knew
anything about the Bible before you came! I've read it some, but it
never seemed a bit interesting, but now I love it, and I just want to
tell people how nice it is. I don't believe everybody knows about it!"

[Illustration: "ALICE WENT DOWN THE DUSTY ROAD."]

"I am afraid they do not," said Alice, "and, Fred, it is a good thing
to want to tell others the good news and perhaps the Lord will want
you to do that when you are older. Who knows?"

Then little Annie Andrus spoke.

"I think, teacher, that I am a better girl than I was, because I do not
get so vexed at sister May when she pulls my curls mornings; I used to
scream sometimes, and now I just set my teeth hard and ask Jesus to
help me to keep back the yell! and I haven't quarrelled with Kittie in
a week."

Fannie Brown was older than Annie, indeed she was the oldest scholar in
school, and as Alice turned towards her, she said softly,

"I am so happy, and the little hymns which you have taught us keep
bubbling over all the time. Everything goes right, and I love the
Saviour, and am trying all the time to do what He would like to have
me do. I don't know as it is being a Christian, but I want to be one,
if I am not."

"What makes you so queer to-night?" asked May that evening.

"Queer, am I?" returned Alice.

"Yes, queer and quiet. Your face shines as if you had heard some
wonderful news or something."

"I have!" said Alice. "I have heard of that which angels smile over."
And then she told May the story of the afternoon, and May replied, more
soberly than her wont, "I declare, Alice Merwyn, if there is anything
in religion that will subdue such a boy as Fred Pratt has been I shall
believe in it! Why, he has been the terror of the neighborhood! And
dear little Annie! I shall never twitch her hair again."

May put up her frizzes silently with a quiet look on her face, and at
length she turned to Alice and said:

"I believe I'll go to Sunday-school with you after this. I can't have
my little sister getting ahead of me."

Do you think Alice Merwyn will ever regret the effort she made to help
the children in that out-of-the-way neighborhood to a knowledge of the
truths of the Bible?

                                                     FAYE HUNTINGTON.


THE ALABASTER BOX.

MY dear little friends, I suppose many of you have read the sweet story
in the Bible, about Mary who broke for her Lord and Master the precious
box of Alabaster. It was a very costly and rare perfume. I want to
tell you, that although Christ is no longer with us here on earth, yet
we can still break for him our Alabaster boxes. Do you ask me how?
Well, He says that when we serve His dear children, we serve Him, just
as much as though He were present with us. And I think every day,
perhaps every hour, we can give to Him one of our Alabaster boxes. I
do not mean the very ointment that Mary had, but we can speak kind and
helpful words, we can encourage the downtrodden, we can carry flowers
to the sick, make our homes sunny and cheerful, lend books to the poor,
comfort our pastor, and do, oh! so many _little_ things to make others
rejoice!

                                                         J.


BESSIE'S STORY.

[Illustration: BESSIE.]

    I AM a very little girl,
      I can't say much, but I know
    Christ is died and gone to Heaven
      Many hundred years ago.

    And he suffered, here on earth,
      All his weary long life through,
    That our sins might be forgiven,
      And we go to Heaven too.

    And I know how he was born,
      In a hornèd ox's crib;
    Wasn't that a dreadful place
      For a little babe to live?

    Muvver told me all about it,
      'Bout the Shepherd, and the star;
    And the blessed angels, singing
      Way up in the sky, so far.

    And He came to die for children,
      Just as much as grown-up men;
    And if I am good and holy,
      I shall go to Heaven, then.

    I have 'membered it so nicely,
      That I thought I'd tell you all;
    And you'd listen, and be ready
      When you hear the Saviour call.
                     BELLE WALDRON.


WORK FINISHED EARLY.

I HAVE lately been reading a sketch of one who finished her work early
and went to rest. To those left behind still toiling in the field it
seemed that her work was broken off and left unfinished, but He who
called her to the service, and afterwards called her home, knew when to
say "it is finished"; nothing can be half-done that is done according
to His command.

Of "Nina's" childhood we are told of her "golden hair, fair cheek
and graceful form; of her quick, laughing eye, of her sensitive
face reflecting every changing thought--her ready answers to all
Sabbath-school questions, and her sunshiny presence at school and at
home."

"Her scholarship was bright, quick and accurate.

"In social life few shone more brilliantly, or were more admired and
sought after.

"Her beauty was of a rare and noticeable type, her conversational
powers were fascinating, and she early developed rare powers of mind."

Her beauty, intelligence and social powers were early consecrated to
the Master's service. We are told that "when a little child, from eight
to twelve years old, she and some of her companions formed a praying
circle and had a little room in one of their homes which they called
the house of prayer. They met often in this room which they delighted
to decorate after their childish fashion."

I can imagine the little girls bringing from the old-fashioned gardens
bunches of flowers, snowballs, peonies, honeysuckles and sweet-smelling
pinks and roses, or bringing from the woods evergreens and trailing
vines to garland this bower where they met to hold sweet childish
communion with their Saviour.

"Another favorite occupation was teaching some poor children whom she
and her companions gathered for lessons in sewing and reading."

I cannot tell you all the sweet story of this beautiful life, only a
bit here and there. When she was eleven years old she was asked by her
pastor how long she had loved Jesus, and she replied, "Oh! a great many
years."

There was nothing unchildlike in her ways. She is said to have been
a peculiarly bright, active and happy child, growing to womanhood the
delight of her home and tenderly shielded from rude contact with the
world. But this noble woman, "so eminently fitted for usefulness in
circles of refinement," was called to spend her life among the degraded
Indians of the Northwest. There were those who thought it a great
wrong that such a beautiful and accomplished girl upon whose education
so much pains and money had been expended, should be given to the
Missionary work among the coarse, ignorant Indians. They thought that
some one less fit for the adornment of social life could do the work
as well. But both she and her parents felt that the best was not too
precious to be given to the Lord to be used wherever he directed. And
this is a thought that I would like you to stop over. Let us give our
best of everything to the Lord. And when we have given it let us be
willing that He should do with it as he sees fit. Sometimes we think we
are ready to give our best, but we would like to dictate as to where or
how it shall be used. Let us see to it that it is a complete surrender.

If you will look upon the map and trace the course of the Missouri
River you will come to a place marked Fort Sully, near the centre of
Dakota. To this far-away region as the wife of an Indian Missionary,
who was himself the son of a pioneer in Indian Missions, Nina Foster
went to make her home in a log cabin, shutting away from the busy
world her beauty and her talents, giving her young life to the cause
of Indian Missions. She gave herself to the work joyfully. We are told
that her "sense of humor and keen wit lightened many a load for herself
and others; the more forlorn and hopeless the situation, the more
elastic her spirits." She always made the best of everything. Even when
the road was so rough and the riding so insecure that she had to be
strapped in to keep from falling out of the wagon she made merry over
the circumstance instead of detailing it as a hardship. For five years
she labored among the Dakota Indian women, who speak of her as the
"beautiful woman who spoke so well." Then God called her to himself.

Was this life, with its beauty and its talents, wasted? We cannot think
so; we know not why God called her to bury herself for a few years
in that remote region, and then, just when the work seemed opening
before her, why he should call her away. Perhaps he wanted to show to a
doubting world that the cause of Missions was so important that for its
advancement he would use the very one whom the world looked upon as too
good for the work. Perhaps he wanted to prove to some doubter the power
of that love that would draw such an one as Nina Foster Riggs away from
the admiring and flattering circle in which she moved and lead her to
give herself to a life of self-sacrifice.

It may be that he wanted to put a bright gem in the midst of the
darkness of ignorance and heathenism, that its shining might
"enlighten, captivate, lead forth and refine."

For us, we may learn that our best, our very best, even _ourselves_, is
the gift we are called upon to give. Shall we consecrate whatever we
have, whatever we are, to the service of our Lord--_now_?

                                                     FAYE HUNTINGTON.


"FOR MY KING."

    JUST to shine for Jesus
      Every day--
    Just to sing his praises
      On my way;

    Just to gather jewels
      By his aid,
    To go onward ever
      Not afraid;

    Just to drop a love word
      As I go,
    Just to cheer a lone heart
      In its woe;

    Just to smile for Jesus,
      On my way--
    To work and speak for Jesus
      When I may;

    Just to shine for Jesus
      Everywhere,
    This, O Blessed Saviour!
      Is my prayer.
                MRS. C. E. FISHER.


JENNIE'S VICTORY.

"JENNIE," said her sister Ella, "you are fond of talking about gaining
victories; but I think if you would only conquer that bad temper, it
would be a glorious victory."

But this made Jennie angry; and she went away to nurse her anger.

The first book she took up happened to be a Bible; it opened of itself
to the place: "A soft answer turneth away wrath."

Meantime, would you like to know what was the trouble? On their way
home from school, Jennie and her friend Albert quarrelled. Albert said
Jennie's friend Lila Johnson missed a word, and Jennie said she didn't;
and they disputed until both were angry.

As Jennie read the Bible verse, she could not help thinking what if
she had answered Albert that perhaps she was mistaken; then she was
sure all would have been right between them; however, she was too angry
to listen to the soft voice which was whispering this in her ear; she
closed the book, and went down stairs.

Cousin Harold was in the sitting-room with Ella; when he caught sight
of Jennie's red face and tearful eyes he began to question. Harold's
advice was to ask Albert's pardon; and he volunteered to go with her to
Albert's house.

Jennie was almost sure to do as cousin Harold said, and in a short time
they were walking down street together.

Only a block from her own house she met Albert, and stopping, said
hurriedly: "Albert, I'm coming to tell you that I'm sorry."

Said Albert, "So am I."

"There!" said cousin Harold, "I fancy you have gained quite a victory.
What a fine thing it would be, if you were always a brave general, and
gained victories for the right."

After that, she went to a store with Harold, and waited while he did
some errands. While they were there, Albert came skipping back to ask
Jennie to go home with him to tea; that mamma said so, and she had a
real nice tea for him, "because it's my birthday, you know."

Cousin Harold gave permission, and away went the happy children who
were enemies such a short time before, but had been made friends by a
few "soft words."

                                                     BY A LITTLE GIRL.

[Illustration: SOME OF MISS MERWYN'S SCHOLARS.]


[Illustration: The P. S. CORNER]

SEE here, my Blossoms, keep your thoughts carefully fixed on what I am
going to tell you, so that you will understand, and not have to ask me
any questions. Sometimes, you know, when mamma is talking to you, you
only half listen, and pretty soon you say: "O, mamma, what did you say?
I didn't quite understand." You mean, "I was thinking about something
else."

Now! Attention! If you, my Blossom, have received, with your badge,
a letter signed "Pansy" in which I have answered your questions, and
given you greeting, you of course will not expect me to reply to your
letter again in THE PANSY. Because people do not receive two replies
to one letter, now do they? But if, on the contrary, you have received
through my secretary, your badge, and a line stating that your letter
will be answered in THE PANSY, in due time, why, then look out for it;
though when its turn will come is more than I can tell you; the truth
is, there are at least a _thousand_ letters now awaiting answers! If
some of you get gray before I can reach you with a letter, you will not
blame me, will you? Because, really and truly, I am doing my _very_
best; and I answer privately all the letters I possibly can, so that
you will not have to wait so long.

Meantime, I expect each of you to show how patient and unselfish a
Pansy Blossom can be in this matter, as well as in larger ones.

I wish you a very pleasant Fourth of July. I hope it will be
"independence day" to you; that you will each prove yourselves free
from every chain which Satan can think of to try to throw around you on
that day.

If you feel like writing to tell me how you spent the day, and what one
thing you did in it to give some one a happy time, whom you thought
might else be forgotten, I shall be very glad to hear the stories.
Remember to send your letters to Chautauqua, Chautauqua Co., N. Y., and
my secretary who is there, will see that I receive them promptly.

And now, good-by once more, until August.

                                                     Lovingly,
                                                         PANSY.

       *       *       *       *       *

_Violet_ from Maine. So violets can blossom in your State in the midst
of a snowstorm! I am glad; and I hope it is a very sweet flower. Still
I see the weeds trouble you. The one you mention, grows very fast,
unless constantly watched. Don't let it hurt the perfume of your
blossom.

_Clintie_ from Massachusetts. Dear little boy, we welcome you to our
garden. Fretful words are troublesome weeds; and it is sometimes a
great temptation to use them to those who are _in_ our family, but not
_of_ it. I am glad you are pledged to watch their growth. Those who are
all the time away from their homes and friends, need our help in every
possible way.

_Emily_ from Connecticut. Dear! dear! these _tongues_. What shall we
do with them! And yet, what would we do without them? It is so easy to
think of some bright little word to say in return, at just the moment
when we ought to keep quiet. I read of a boy who kept a clothes pin in
his pocket, ready to clap on his tongue when he was tempted to speak
words which he ought not. But I think there are better checks than
clothes pins. Don't you?

_Lulu_ from New York. Another Blossom from the "Snow!" You are welcome.
"Slang" is a word which covers a very disagreeable habit indeed. It
astonishes me to see how many people who think themselves cultivated,
indulge in it. I have noticed that it is sometimes connected with the
other weed of which you speak. By all means get rid of them both,
keeping the "Whisper Motto" in mind.

_Bertha_ and _Stella_ from Iowa. It is natural enough to like to play
rather than to work. I presume men and women who work hard would often
rather play. The great difference between people is, that some of them
do what they would rather not, because it is duty; and some of them
do what they would rather, because they _want_ to. I am glad to think
of Bertha as belonging to the first class; for the others are rather
worthless people. As for the dear little Blossom who describes herself
in this way:

    There was a little girl, and she had a little curl,
      Right in the middle of her forehead;
    And when she was good, she was very, _very_ good,
      And when she was bad, she was _horrid_,

truth compels me to say that she has a great many brothers and sisters!
But Stella is not to belong to their family any more.

_Mabel_ from New York. I once had a kitchen girl who was a source of
great amusement to my family because she fretted about everything. One
morning I said to her: "Rebecca, we are going to have a rainy day, I
fear."

"Of course we are," she answered; "as sure as I have a large wash,
and need sunshine especially _much_, it is sure to rain." An hour
afterwards the sun was shining brightly. As I went through the
wash-room I said to Rebecca, "It didn't rain after all, did it? See
what beautiful air for drying clothes."

"Oh yes," she said, "sun hot enough to bake me just as I am ready to
hang out clothes; that is always the way."

The fact was, poor Rebecca in her younger days had contracted such a
habit of fretting, that she really seemed unable to find a bright side
to anything. I am glad you are pledged against such an enemy.

_Agnes_ from Illinois. I think THE PANSY is a very nice present. I am
glad you agree with me. I agree with you that forgetful people are very
troublesome, and sometimes in danger. There was once a little girl who
forgot to turn out the gas in her room, but blew it out instead, as
though it was a candle, and lost her life in consequence. We welcome
you to the P. S.

_Mertie_ from Maine. "Foolish" questions are really very troublesome.
The other day I sent a boy to the cellar for a certain jar. "Which
jar?" he asked. "I told you there was but one," I said. "Oh, where is
it?" "In the cellar, as I told you." "Which cellar?" said this foolish
boy; and yet he knew as well as I did, that there was but one cellar in
the house.

This same boy once lost his breakfast because he did not get up when
he was called. I congratulate your mother because of your pledge.

_Medie_ from Michigan. Carelessness is a dangerous enemy. A careless
little girl set a bottle on a chair within reach of her baby sister,
and now poor baby is blind! It only took a moment to put the bottle in
the right or wrong place. So sometimes the carelessness of one minute
causes a life time of sorrow. Welcome to our garden. I am glad you mean
to work to extend the usefulness of THE PANSY.

_Hattie_ from Illinois. Did you ever read the story of the great man
who had a little dog named Diamond? I always admired his patience. If
you do not know the story, suppose you look it up. Will you kiss Marion
for me?

Your age? Let me think; I am not good at "guessing." Suppose I say
twelve? Is that it? When you get the missionary society in good working
order, send us a report of its doings.

_Ella_ from Pennsylvania. It seems to be a very hard lesson for my
Blossoms to learn--that of prompt obedience. It is well for the world
that so many are working hard at it. As for doors, I have heard them
slam when I did not think the wind was to blame. Hands can do wrong
as well as feet and tongues. The truth is, all our body-servants need
watching.

_Bessie_ from Iowa. I shall have to tell you a story about Neddie.
His brother Rob who loved him dearly, was tempted to tease him,
occasionally, "just for fun!" One day he said in a frightened tone: "O
Neddy! What is that great big bug on the back of your neck?" Poor Neddy
was afraid of all kinds of bugs. He gave a quick little jump from the
piazza where he stood, fell over backward, hit his head against a stone
pillar, and never spoke again! Poor Rob! Doesn't your heart ache for
him?

I once heard a good man say that "by-words" were side doors to
profanity. What do you think?

_H. E._ from Kentucky. You have left me to guess your name. Well, I
"guess" that it is Harrison Eleazar. Am I right? Never mind, you know
your own name; see that you do credit to it. I like your pledge. It is
a very common fault to speak ill of persons. I wish all the Pansies
would take a resolution against it.

_Jennison and Milton_ from Virginia. It gives me pleasure, my boys, to
know that you enjoy your badges, and that they help you. I earnestly
hope to hear that Warren and Jennison are able to wear theirs to all
appropriate places; yet I confess I wouldn't like to think of them as
being worn by boys who had not tried hard to do them honor. I expect to
hear good news from you _all_, next time.

_Albert_ from California. Obeying "after the third or fourth time," is
sometimes obeying too late. It does me good to know that one more boy
is resolved to cultivate the habit of prompt obedience. I know you will
make a better man because of this. There was once a boy who had a sharp
lesson on promptness. His uncle called two boys, Warren and Robert, to
come to the yard at once; Warren went on the instant, but Robert waited
to finish the page in the story he was reading. When he finally reached
the yard, he found Warren seated on a pony's back, and he shouted out
that the pony was his. "Yes," said his uncle, "I intended the pony for
both of you; but since Robert did not come I concluded he did not want
any pony; and gave it to Warren."

I think that was pretty hard. Don't you? But the truth was, Robert had
such a habit of waiting awhile, after being called, that I suppose his
uncle thought he needed a severe lesson.

_Walter and Harry_ from Rhode Island. Two brothers, one of whom is to
learn "patience," and the other means to "stop whining." Good resolves,
both of them. A whining face is never a pleasant one; and as for
patience, it is needed all the time to help us through this world.

_Minnie_ from Kansas. I don't like to be teased; do you? I'm sure I
hear you say, "No, ma'am." Then, according to the Golden Rule, you and
I ought not to tease other people; and I am glad you have resolved not
to do so. As to the finger-nails, of course they do not like to be
bitten. Only three Pansy Blossoms in your city? Why, that is too bad!
Can't you plant some more?

_Florence_ from Missouri. Give my love to my namesake, the dolly;
though I am afraid she will care nothing about it. After all, I don't
know how many cats you have, though you undertook to tell me. Can you
guess why I do not know? Please try.

_Minnie_ from Connecticut. Your letter was not at all "silly," my
little friend, but we only publish in THE PANSY those letters that
give interesting stories about people or animals, or places; something
which will interest all. You know one doesn't like to publish one's
_personal_ letters for others to read. I hope you will have your wish
and "change into a very good girl." In fact, I know you will, if you
wish it enough to keep daily trying, and trust in the great Helper.

_Maggie_ from Kentucky. How glad I am that we have another Blossom who
has resolved to guard her lips from the use of slang words! Think of a
flower speaking in any but sweet and refined language! Who would want
to make bouquets of flowers whose breaths were impure?

_Alma_ from Kentucky. You have taken a very important pledge. There is
hardly another so important. I hope every Pansy in our garden will be a
brave earnest worker for temperance; by which I mean the sort of total
abstinence which determines to "touch not, taste not, handle not."

_Mollie_ from Kentucky. How much I should like to hear that your pledge
had helped you to be present in Sabbath-school each Sabbath this year!
Wouldn't that be pleasant? But there are some absences over which we
have no control, are there not? Well, suppose we put it, each Sabbath
that you are not detained by sickness, or by some cause which you could
not help? Then let us hear at the close of the year, what success you
have had.

_Lizzie_ from Illinois. It is pleasant to hear of an entire class
joining the P. S. You can be helpful to one another. "In a minute" is
a very bad sprite, who gets many people into trouble; have nothing to
do with him. I think many persons who really intend to do the right
thing, are caught by Satan, in this way; instead of trying to get them
to decide against it, which he knows they wouldn't do, he coaxes them
to put the duty off until they forget all about it. I trust he will not
get the advantage of you.

_Lara_ from Illinois. So the meek little pansy on its satin bed has
done its duty and helped you? I am glad. Do you know, I think "little
things" are harder to bear than big ones? Someway, we make up our minds
to be patient and brave over real troubles, but little pin pricks are
likely to find us off our guard; so a pledge against just these "little
foxes" is very important.

_Elma_ from Dakota Territory. Dear little Blossom, what a sweet letter
you wrote me with your own hand! I think your lips must be very sweet
when they have a smile on them; but "grumbles" are almost sure to dress
themselves in ugly pouts. I would have nothing to do with them.

_Olive_ and _Hattie_ from Michigan. A "black" Pansy? No I do not think
"thoughtlessness" is black. It is my opinion it is a dull gray-brown;
such as my children in Sabbath school call dirt-color. Let us remember
that it is a weed, not a pansy, but has crept in among some of our
Blossoms unawares, and is to be rooted out. May you succeed in keeping
your corner free from its power. Hattie dear, I am sorry for your long
waiting. The first letter must have gone astray. What good news you
both gave me! May you shine so brightly in your home, that "baby May"
will early follow your example.

_Rose_ from ----. You forgot the State, little Rose, so I have to guess
at the place where you bloom. I think it is better to wear the badges
only on special occasions, and so to keep them fresh and neat-looking,
a long time. However, they can be renewed at ten cents each, whenever
the owners think they ought to have new ones.

_Gertie_ from Massachusetts. You are right, little girl. All over the
world, young people seem to be troubled with very much the same weeds.
Satan must depend a great deal on these "quick tempers," he has so many
of them at work for him. I rejoice over every boy or girl who resolves
to break from his power. How glad I am that THE PANSY helps you! That
is sweet praise. I am also glad that you send it on, to help others,
when you are through with it.

_Julia_ from Connecticut. Whispering tongues make a great deal of
trouble. Watch yours with care. Dear Julia, one who truly wants to be
a Christian has to bring her _will_ into the matter. Do you know what
I mean? As soon as we honestly determine that, whether it is easy or
hard, whether we are happy in it or unhappy, we will from this moment
give ourselves to the Lord Jesus to obey Him in all things, He comes,
and takes possession of our hearts, and makes them new. Take your
decision to Him, and He will help you.

_Helen_ from New York. I am much interested in your society. I think
you must have a very ingenious leader, to plan amusement for you. All
the pledges, too, are important. I feel sure there must be some happy
mothers in your neighborhood; for I have observed they are always glad
when they see improvements in their children. I hope you will write us
often; and give us the benefit of any new ideas which you get.

_Julia_ from Colorado. Oh, yes, we like to hear about the mountain
scenery in your grand State. I am glad you give time and thought to the
mountains, for they are among the wonderful works of God. Have you ever
noticed what beautiful Bible verses there are about mountains? Once I
made a copy of them all, and enjoyed it much. We shall always be glad
to hear from you.

_Walter_ from Massachusetts. Indeed you can "belong!" Boys used to be
rather scarce in our society. I used often to wonder why they were not
so eager to overcome their faults as girls seemed to be. But we have
a great army of them now. Your pledge is very important. I am sure
"mamma" will rejoice; and watch your improvement with a thankful heart.

_Edna_ from Iowa. Indeed I think you wrote a very nice letter. So you
want to "shoot" a great many things, do you? I think, with you, it is
very wise to overcome the habit of using that, or any other by-word.
To say the least, it is inelegant; and Pansy Blossoms should be very
elegant, to match their lovely dress, and general appearance.

_Louie_ from Maine. Dear little seven-year-old Blossom, we welcome you
with pleasure. Do the weeds of cross words trouble you? They are very
poisonous weeds; I would be glad if they were rooted out of all the
heart-gardens in the world. Look well after yours, my dear, and there
will be fewer than ever before.

_Mrs. V. R._ from Florida. Thank you, dear friend, for your sweet
bright letter, and for joining our P. S. and so giving aid and comfort
to the many little feet that are treading the same road. Indeed I know,
by experience, that if any one in the world has need of patience, and
finds it hard to lay in enough for each day's supply, it is a mother.
If all the mothers would join us in honest effort, it would be easier
to lead the children.

_Lelia_ from Minnesota. A "whining" flower! Wouldn't that be a
curiosity? I am so glad you are working to overcome. I know ever so
many Blossoms who ought to join you in that pledge. Can you not induce
some of them to do so?

_Louise_ from Dakota. Here is another "careless" Blossom whose temper
also troubles her. What an army of them we have! Every name added to my
roll gives me a feeling of satisfaction; I know there is just so much
less sorrow in the world, because of each pledge.

_Hattie_ from Connecticut. Thank you, my patient little girl, for being
willing to wait your turn for a letter. Not all the Blossoms are so
thoughtful. I shall now think of your "things" as always in place.
Shall I? How pleasant that will be! For I know just how trying it is to
have them lying around where they do not belong. I am glad you are also
a little worker for THE PANSY.

     -     -     -     -     -     -

_ABOUT BABIES._ (_Special to the P. S._)

NOW, my Blossoms, here is business for you. In the first place, pick
out the words which you think are improperly spelled; count the number,
and see if all the members of your society agree with you. The next
thing is, to correct them. I hope I shall have some good reports about
the fun you had, and the knowledge you gained.

I wonder if any of the Pansies will recognize their words in the list?

                                                Lovingly,     PANSY.

     -     -     -     -     -     -

DEAR PANSIES:

It was my indention to wright you about my Journey north, this month,
butt as nothing of interest ocurred, I have desided to tel you of a
pretty little villiage where I once went to a Sundy school meeting. It
seems it was the habbit of the peple to take the babies to Church, and
as, on that day it was not convient for eny boddy to stay at home with
them, fifteen babies suceded in atending the meeting!

It was a verry plesent day out of doors; and I could not help feeling
sory for the poor babies, because they were not out in the Sun shine.
They had a fassion of all talking at once; and it was sometimes nesary
for the speeker to speek quite lowd in order to be herd.

While one man was telling a storry which of coarse the babies did not
understand, one of them hoped up on the seet in front of me and began
a game of hide and seek. He was very still about it, hiding his curly
head on his mother's sholder a minit, then bobing it up and looking at
me. He was so sweet I could not help ansering him with a little smile,
and a speck of a nod, until sudenly his plesure became to grate, and he
shouted out "Peek-aboo!" Poor baby! It realy was not his falt so mutch
as mine; and I realy suppose I ought to have been the one to have been
caried out in disgrase. But I do not think his mother was seveer with
him, for I herd her not long afterwards, calling him "Mamma's little
hart seas!"

     -     -     -     -     -     -

DEAR PANSY:

I find so many letters in your magazine from children that I can not
forbear writing to you.

Although I am not a child, I think I am as much interested in the
magazine, and in the Pansy Blossoms, as any child can be. Possibly you
will remember my writing you about the organization of our Pansy Club.
It has been a success; the children are delighted with it.

Not long ago we gave an entertainment, followed by
refreshments--ice-cream, watermelon, etc. We cleared a little over
twenty-seven dollars. The children sang a number of songs, and recited
selections, largely from THE PANSY. I wish you could have heard them!
It seemed to me that if I were not a Christian, the love which sprang
up in my heart that night for those dear children, would have drawn me
to Jesus.

I have long felt as though my life was almost a blank, but this P. S.
has opened a way for me to accomplish some good. I am anxious to do
good. I can meet those dear little ones in grove, or hall, or parlor,
from week to week and perhaps sow a seed in some heart that shall
blossom for God.

At our entertainment, fifty children were in the procession, and
marched into church led by a drum corps of little boys. Our banner is
made of cream-colored silk; arched over the top in large blue letters
are the words: "The Children's Union Pansy Club." Underneath: "Our
Motto is to OVERCOME." In the centre, the words: "For Jesus' Sake." At
the left corner there is a bouquet of pansies, painted in their natural
colors.

All the money we have saved, or earned, we have appropriated to our
pastor's salary, which is small, and not paid regularly.

                                                 Your loving friend,
                                                         MRS. J. H. D.

     -     -     -     -     -     -

DEAR PANSY:

One night I was going down to the pasture after the cow, and I saw
Jip, our neighbor's dog run, barking, into a clump of alders; so boy
fashion, I ran after him. As soon as I reached the bushes, out came a
rabbit; then Jip and I joined in for a share of the fun. Jip caught
him by the hind leg and tossed him into a pile of underbrush. The poor
creature was so scared that he crouched down and did not attempt to
stir. I caught him in my hands, and carried him home. Papa fixed a
barrel for me to put him in. In the morning we built a pen for him in
the barn. At first he was very wild, and would cry almost like a child;
but I petted him a great deal, and when he found I was always kind, I
could go in and lie down beside him on the hay, and he would hop back
and forth over me.

I kept him for a month; then as winter was coming, I thought I ought to
let him go for fear I could not get the right kind of food for him. One
day when I went to school I took him with me. When I reached the woods,
I put him on the ground, but he would not go away from me. I had to
carry him away into the middle of the woods; there I left him to find
his old home.

                                         Your friend,   ALUAN LARRABEE.

     -     -     -     -     -     -

DEAR PANSY:

I have wished, ever since the first number of THE PANSY arrived, to try
to thank you for your goodness to the children; at this late date, I
have still nothing to offer save all the thanks from each of our family
circle, that can possibly be crowded into one envelope.

We were snowbound all winter. THE PANSY was almost our only visitor,
and the good things it brings each month were devoured with such
eagerness and gusto as are possible only to those who, like ourselves,
have been famishing for lack of mental food. I try hard to keep the
magazines clean, but they are read over and over again, and the
pictures inspected with ever new delight; and they are in danger of
being worn to tatters. The mother, being only a child of larger growth,
enjoys the little books as much as her bairns, and is in much more need
of their healthful and helpful teaching.

I find one needs all the help possible to keep one's flag flying with
its motto of "Onward," and its voice ever shouting "No surrender!" And
this, amid all the wounds which that merciless tyrant, "Poverty," can
inflict. May God bless and reward you, is a loving mother's prayer.

     -     -     -     -     -     -

DEAR PANSY:

Here comes an old "Mother Pansy" of thirty-one summers, to join the
ranks of your thousands of correspondents. I picture your smile
of amusement at the faded appearance which your imagination must
necessarily attribute to this ancient flower, but I assure you her
feelings and desires for the happiness of the sweet young Blossoms are
as strong and fresh as they were in her youthful days. Hence, by order
of the President of our Pansy Society, of which I am Secretary, I must
write you something of the proceedings of said P. S. Our "Club" was
organized about a year ago and has been holding regular weekly meetings
since September last, at which each member reads or recites some
instructive, moral and entertaining selection often from your magazine,
THE PANSY. Our Society consists of six members:

Charles T. Crawford, Pres., aged 12 years; Mrs. Walter Crawford, Sec.,
31; Blanchie Crawford, 10; Geo. W. Crawford, Treas., 8; Victorine
Crawford, 5; Jas. Warren Crawford, 2. This is quite a "Crawford
Clan" you see, and quite a _home affair_, with regard to members and
meetings, but we are trying to make its influence for good extend far
and near.

At Christmas time we got together a large lot of old toys, picture
books, etc., with boxes of cake and bonbons, and sent them to some
poor children in our community who were not able to buy new ones. We
also sent a box of Christmas goodies to each of the _real old_ ladies
and gentlemen living near us who were likely to be overlooked in the
overflow of young life surrounding them. Also sent out some suitable
presents and eatables to needy negro families. At our yesterday's
meeting a motion was made, seconded and voted in that as "St.
Valentine's Day" was near at hand, each member of the Society prepare
and send a Valentine to some little child who would be likely to be
forgotten on this festive occasion. We gave to the "Missions" last
year and will give again during _this_. THE PANSY has been a regular
monthly visitor here for the past four or five years, and we would feel
_very much_ as if "one of the family" were gone if we were deprived of
it. Earnestly wishing the progress of each P. S. in the wide world and
asking your own and their prayers for the further success of ours,

                        I remain, Respectfully,
                                MRS. WALTER CRAWFORD, _Sec. of P. S._



REPORT OF THE P. J. S.

DURING the last three months the Pansy Junior Society of Tompkinsville,
Staten Island, N. Y., has entered into a new field of action, that of
specific work for others who have fewer advantages than they.

Forty paper dolls have been made and dressed. About one half of these
are babies with one dress each, the others being children each provided
with six dresses. Two china dolls have been entirely fitted out, while
others are in various stages of completion.

Having heard of an invalid who was patching a quilt and desired pretty
pieces outlined in colors for it, the Society decided to work a few for
her; five of these are already finished.

Up in Essex County, deep in among the Adirondacks, lives a lovely
Scotch lady who has interested herself in the children of that region.
These little ones have absolutely nothing in the line of reading, and
by a unanimous vote of the Society, it was decided to send them some
nice books and Sunday-School papers, thereby forming the nucleus of a
sort of circulating library, of which the Scotch lady will be the head.
We hope, sometime in the near future, to open correspondence with the
children themselves, and if possible, to start a branch of the P. S. in
Essex County.

The members of our Junior Society show great interest in the work of
subduing their faults, and many have been the conquests over self.
Of course we all often forget, but frequently the knowledge--and
acknowledgment--of our shortcomings, has but added fresh earnestness to
the desire not to be overcome.

At a recent meeting we decided to have a motto, and the one chosen was,
"For we are laborers together with God." With this watchword, and with
the help of Him who is our Captain, we intend to go on--and up.

                                                  E. M. CLARKE, _Sec._



"THE CHILDREN OF WESTMINSTER ABBEY."

HOW many of the Pansies know what Westminster Abbey is? Of course a
large number of you little folks are not yet acquainted with it. I
don't know a pleasanter way for people of your age to learn about it,
than to read the book bearing the title which I have given above.
Listen to what it says about the building, "That Abbey is the record
of the growth of our two great nations. Within its walls we are on
common ground. America is represented just as much as England. All
English and American boys and girls should love Westminster Abbey."
There are pictures of the wonderful and beautiful building scattered
through the book; thirty-two illustrations, in a book of two hundred
and ninety-four pages. It is almost like visiting the building itself,
to read about it in this book written by Rose Kingsley. It is a
beautifully bound volume, my copy being in brown and gold. Usual price
one dollar. To members of the P. S. sixty cents. In ordering from D.
Lothrop & Co., you must not omit to say that you are entitled to the
book at the reduced price because you are an enrolled member of the P.
S.

With this introduction, I am going to let the story speak for itself,
by giving you a page or two from it, together with the picture of "The
Cradle Tomb."

[Illustration: "THE CRADLE TOMB."]

"On what used to be the altar step of the north aisle of Westminster
Abbey, stands a baby's cradle--a cradle on real rockers. A gorgeous
coverlet, all trimmed with rich guipure lace, falls from the corners of
the cradle in splendid rich folds. The arms of England, Scotland and
Ireland are carved on the back. And when you look under the head of the
cradle you see that a baby lies sleeping in it. A darling tiny baby it
is--its little wee face set in a close lace cap and lace ruff, under a
kind of lace-trimmed hood that forms part of the pillow. You can almost
fancy that if the cradle were set rocking, the babe might open her
eyes. But 'baby and cradle, and all,' are marble--marble, yellow with
the dust and wear of nearly three hundred years!

"'The Cradle Tomb' of Westminster, as it is called, has been far better
described than by any words of mine. A card hangs close beside it,
placed there by desire of Lady Augusta Stanley, on which is a poem
by an American lady. That lady is a well-known favorite of American
readers; for she is none other than Susan Coolidge. And the lovely
verses--some of which I venture to transcribe--appeared in _Scribner's
Monthly_ for 1875:

    A little rudely sculptured bed,
      With shadowing folds of marble lace,
    And quilt of marble, primly spread,
      And folded round a baby face.

    Smoothly the mimic coverlet,
      With royal blazonries bedight,
    Hangs, as by tender fingers set,
      And straightened for the last good-night.

    And traced upon the pillowing stone
      A dent is seen, as if, to bless
    That quiet sleep, some grieving one
      Had leaned, and left a soft impress.

           *       *       *       *       *

    But dust upon the cradle lies,
      And those who prized the baby so,
    And decked her couch with heavy sighs,
      Were turned to dust long years ago.

"The inscription on her cradle tells us that this dear baby, 'Sophia,
a royal rosebud, plucked by premature fate, and snatched away from her
parents--James, King of Great Britain, France and Ireland, and Queen
Anne--that she might flourish again in the rosary of Christ, was placed
here on the twenty-third of June, in the fourth year of the reign of
King James, 1606.'

"The little creature was born on the twenty-first of June at
Greenwich--a favorite palace of the English sovereigns. Great
preparations had been made for her christening, and for the tourneys
which were to be held at the same time in honor of her grandfather the
King of Denmark's visit. But the baby only lived two days, and was
hastily baptized 'Sophia,' after the Queen of Denmark. James the First
gave orders that she should be buried 'as cheaply as possible, without
any solemnity, or funeral.' Nevertheless he made a contract with
Nicholas Poutrain, the royal sculptor, for her monument, the cost of
which was not to exceed one hundred and forty pounds. And we find that
her coffin was very solemnly conveyed up the river by barge, covered
with black velvet, accompanied by three other barges covered with black
cloth and bearing many nobles, lords, ladies, and the officers-of-arms,
to the Parliament stairs at Westminster. Thence the procession went to
the southeast door of the Abbey, where it was met by the great lords of
the Council, the Heralds, and chief officers of the court."




WE WANT

EVERY BOY AND EVERY GIRL

_To carefully read the extraordinary premium offers made on the
following pages. We have selected a few of our most attractive
premiums, and have made special offers, for the summer months only, to
those sending us clubs._

_Should you desire to obtain any article not on our list of premiums,
write to us fully about it, and we will cheerfully answer all your
inquiries. If you wish to earn a book, a toy, a game, a stamp or
mineral collection, or anything dear to the heart of a boy or girl,
write to us about it and we will make such arrangements as will enable
you to secure the desired article by obtaining subscriptions for our
magazines._

_[Illustration]If you do not care to secure any of the premiums we
offer, will you kindly call the attention of your friends to the
suggestions we have made, thereby obliging us, and perhaps doing them a
great favor?_

_A specimen set of our magazines will be sent to any boy or girl
wishing sample copies to show, on receipt of ten cents in stamps.
Address all inquiries and orders to_

    _D. LOTHROP & CO., Publishers,
      Franklin and Hawley Streets, Boston._




YOUNG PEOPLE ATTENTION! VACATION IS COMING!!

    Read the following extraordinary Premium Offers, and
    learn how to obtain, without expense, articles that
    will add greatly to your vacation pleasures.

READ CAREFULLY THE FOLLOWING CONDITIONS:

    1. The premiums are given only to subscribers to any of
    our magazines, with this exception: =ANY= person may
    work for the premiums by sending one more subscriber to
    any of the magazines than the premium calls for.

    2. The full subscription price must be paid for each
    subscription, as follows: WIDE AWAKE, $3.00; THE PANSY,
    $1.00; OUR LITTLE MEN AND WOMEN, $1.00; BABYLAND, 50
    cents.

    =No premiums will be given to any person sending his
    own name as a new subscriber; nor can his name count as
    one of a club sent for premiums.=

    3. Send your subscriptions as you get them. Always send
    the payment for each subscription with the name.

    4. You can send for a premium when you send us the
    names of new subscribers, or you can complete your list
    and then select your premiums, as you may prefer.

    5. Those working for this special list of premiums can
    have until August 1st., in which to complete their list.

    6. =The premiums we offer are given FOR new
    subscribers, NOT TO new subscribers.=

    7. Two new subscriptions for six months will count as
    one yearly subscription.

    8. The names and =full subscription price= must be sent
    to D. Lothrop & Co., and _not_ through any agent or
    Subscription Agency.

    9. The volumes of the magazines begin as follows: WIDE
    AWAKE, with the December and June numbers; THE PANSY,
    with the November number; OUR LITTLE MEN AND WOMEN,
    with the January number; BABYLAND, with the January
    number.

    Always specify the date you wish the subscriptions to
    begin with. Subscriptions may begin with any number.


GUNS FOR THE BOYS.

    The Guns described below are all especially adapted
    to "Fourth of July" sports, from the fact that with
    them torpedos can be thrown with great accuracy and,
    exploding as they strike, make a very loud report. What
    is known as the small "American" torpedo is the best.

    These Guns are especially suitable for drilling
    purposes. Any boy will find it a very easy matter to
    secure enough subscriptions to earn the guns that may
    be needed for his company.

"DOCTOR CARVER" GUN.

[Illustration]

    Given for one new subscription to THE PANSY or
    OUR LITTLE MEN AND WOMEN; or, given for one new
    subscription to BABYLAND and =20 cents cash additional=.

    It has an adjustable tension that can be regulated to
    suit the strength of any boy. This is a new gun, made
    on a new principle, and is the best arrangement for
    target shooting ever seen. It shoots with great force
    and accuracy. Three arrows go with each gun. It will
    also fire marbles, bullets, sticks or paper wads. The
    gun is nicely finished in all parts and is painted a
    bright red that will not fade, which makes it very
    handsome. It is three feet long, strong and durable,
    easy to adjust and load, and does not get out of order.
    Price 50 cents. Postage 10 cents additional.


THE "LITTLE GEM."

[Illustration]

    Given for one new subscription to BABYLAND.

    This is a new gun, well finished and very effective.
    It possesses part of the patented features of the
    celebrated "Doctor Carver" gun, but is not as powerful.
    It is lighter and somewhat smaller than the "Doctor
    Carver" gun. Price 25 cents. Postage paid in the United
    States.


"WINCHESTER RIFLE."

[Illustration]

    Given for one new subscription to THE PANSY, or
    OUR LITTLE MEN AND WOMEN. Or, given for one new
    subscription to Babyland and =25 cents cash additional=.

    A new double-barrel gun. It has the patent "oscillating
    yoke" or yielding stop, same as the celebrated "Doctor
    Carver" gun and has a well-finished stock of proper
    shape. Price 50 cents. Postage 10 cents additional when
    purchased or sent as a premium.


THE WILCOX TARGET GUN, WITH BAYONET.

[Illustration]

    Given for two new subscriptions to THE PANSY, or
    OUR LITTLE MEN AND WOMEN. Or, given for one new
    subscription to THE PANSY, or OUR LITTLE MEN AND
    WOMEN, and =50 cents cash additional=. Two BABYLAND
    subscriptions will be equivalent to one PANSY
    subscription. =For One new subscriber to WIDE AWAKE=,
    two of any of the guns will be given as a premium.

    It shoots with precision, is simple in construction,
    and finely finished. The bayonet is of wood, bronzed to
    imitate steel. Each gun is provided in the breech with
    a small pocket, in which will be found, 5 metal-head
    arrows, and 2 paper targets. For drilling purposes,
    it can be readily changed to the form of an ordinary
    rifle. Price $1.00. Postage 20 cents additional.




UNION WEB HAMMOCKS GIVEN AS PREMIUMS FOR NEW SUBSCRIPTIONS.


[Illustration]

We are pleased to announce that we have made such arrangements as
will enable us to offer these superior hammocks for a smaller number
of subscriptions than ever before. Every hammock is warranted by the
manufacturers; and nothing but the best material and workmanship enter
into their construction. Each grade is tested at a given number of
pounds. They are warranted, when colored, not to soil the finest fabric.

THE HERCULES.

Given for one new subscription to THE PANSY or OUR LITTLE MEN AND
WOMEN, and =40 cents cash additional=.

This is the strongest hammock made, warranted to hold 1100 lbs. It is
made of very heavy cord. Length, 13 feet; length of bed, 6 feet. Price
$1.15. Postage and packing 30 cents additional.

CHILD'S HAMMOCK.


Given for one new subscription to THE PANSY or OUR LITTLE MEN AND WOMEN.

This is a nice hammock for the little ones. It has variegated colors
in ends and body. Has a miniature Horseshoe for the fastening at the
ends and safety cords at the sides. It is perfectly reliable and far
preferable to a crib or cradle. Length, 7 feet; length of body, 3 feet.
Price $.75. Postage and packing 15 cents additional.

B B HAMMOCK.

Given for one new subscription to THE PANSY or OUR LITTLE MEN AND
WOMEN, and 25 cents cash additional.

This hammock is made better than ever before. The web is of extra heavy
cord, and bright colors which are warranted fast. It is a splendid
hammock. Length 11 feet; length of bed, 6-1/3 feet. Price $1.00.
Postage and packing 20 cents additional.

THE BOSTON.

Given for one new subscription to WIDE AWAKE, or for two new
subscriptions to THE PANSY or OUR LITTLE MEN AND WOMEN and 40 cents
cash additional.

A double web hammock that is very popular. Length, 12-1/2 feet; length
of bed, 7 feet. Price $1.75. Postage and packing 20 cents additional.

[Illustration]_Two BABYLAND subscriptions will be equivalent to one
PANSY subscription._[Illustration]


BOY'S FISHING OUTFIT, WITH JOINTED ROD.

[Illustration]


Given for two new subscriptions to THE PANSY or OUR LITTLE MEN AND
WOMEN, or for one new subscription to THE PANSY or OUR LITTLE MEN AND
WOMEN and =50 cents cash additional=.

This outfit is put up especially for our use, and we can recommend
it to the boys who enjoy fishing as a very good outfit for the price
asked. It consists of a 12 foot jointed rod with brass tips and
ferules, 1 bob, 2 sinkers, 1 36 foot line, 1 dozen hooks assorted, 2
flies, 1 bait-box, 1 trolling hook for pickerel, and 2 hooks ganged (i.
e., with hair or gut snell.) Postage prepaid. Price $1.00.

TWO BABYLAND subscriptions will be equivalent to one PANSY subscription.


THE AMERICAN FOOT BALL. NO. 2.

[Illustration]

Given for two new subscriptions to THE PANSY or OUR LITTLE MEN AND
WOMEN. Or for one new subscription to either magazine and =60 cents
cash additional=.

The American Foot Ball is made of heavy canvas, thoroughly saturated
with rubber, very strong, so as to be blown up with a key which goes
with each one. It is 22 inches in circumference. Price $1.50.

We also include in this offer the American College Rules of Foot Ball.
Price 15 cents.

Two BABYLAND subscriptions will be equivalent to one PANSY subscription.


A GOOD MICROSCOPE.

[Illustration]


Given for one new subscription to THE PANSY or OUR LITTLE MEN AND
WOMEN; or for one new subscription to BABYLAND and =20 cents cash
additional=.

No one need be without a microscope. We have made special arrangements
by which we can offer a Combination Microscope (or Floroscope), 2
inches in length. It has in addition to a powerful microscope lens,
a mineral glass for examining plants, minerals, etc. It is very
convenient. It can be put into a vest pocket, and yet is as serviceable
as many more expensive microscopes. Price 50 cents.


BOY'S COMPOUND MICROSCOPE, NO. 655.

[Illustration]

Given for one new subscription to WIDE AWAKE or for four new
subscriptions to THE PANSY or OUR LITTLE MEN AND WOMEN.

Two BABYLAND subscriptions will be equivalent to one PANSY subscription.

This instrument will show satisfactorily the larger animalcules in
pond water, the scales from a butterfly's wing, etc. The stand is
of polished brass, handsomely lacquered, with one eye-piece and one
object-glass, magnifying, when combined, about 40 diameters or 1600
times. One prepared object, two glass slips and a pair of brass
forceps, are furnished with it; the whole is packed in a neat polished
walnut-wood case. Price $2.50. Postage paid.




ALL THE BOYS AND GIRLS

WANT A ROGERS' SCROLL SAW.


Our latest Special Premium given to any subscriber sending us =SIX=
NEW subscriptions to OUR LITTLE MEN AND WOMEN or THE PANSY (at $1.00
each); or for =FOUR= NEW subscriptions to OUR LITTLE MEN AND WOMEN or
THE PANSY (at $1.00 each) _and $1.00 cash additional_; or for =TWO=
NEW subscriptions to above magazines (at $1.00 each) _and $2.00 cash
additional_; =or=, for 2 new WIDE AWAKE subscriptions.

_Two_ BABYLAND _subscriptions equivalent to one_ PANSY.

[Illustration]

The entire framework is made from Iron, painted and Japanned black, and
ornamented with red and gilt stripes.

All parts made to interchange.

1. The Bearings to the Arms are carefully sized to bring them in
perfect line. (This is a vital point in the construction of any Jig
Saw.)

2. Each machine is provided with a Dust Blower, which is a very great
advantage.

3. Our machine has a jointed Stretcher Rod, which allows the operator
to throw the upper arm out of the way when adjusting his work or saw.
This joint also permits the machine to work much more freely than with
a straight iron rod.

4. Our clamps have a hinged jaw which overcomes the disagreeable raking
overthrow of the blade, which is unavoidable when the saws are secured
rigidly to the arms. Saw blades are not nearly so liable to break when
clamps have this joint. Thus a large percentage of the expense of
running the saw is saved. Besides this the saw runs much easier, the
swing coming at the hinge instead of bending the blade with each stroke
of the saw.

5. The Balance wheel is 4-1/4 inches in diameter, with a handsome spoke
centre and Rim of Solid Emery.

6. The attachment for Drilling is on the Right Hand Side of the
machine, which, for convenience, is an obvious advantage.

7. No Pins are used in the construction of this machine, as we prefer
the durability of nicely fitted screws and bolts in securing each part.

While the New Rogers' Saw is very rich, though not gaudy in appearance,
it has been more especially our object to make, for the least possible
money, a saw characterized for its Compactness, Strength, and
durability, ease of action, and firmness when in operation.

With each machine we give six Saw Blades, Wrench, Sheet of Designs and
three Drill Points. The Saw alone weighs 25 lbs.; Saw and Box together,
36 lbs.

Price of No. 2 Rogers' Saw, $4.00. This Saw is provided with a polished
Tilting Table, heavily nickel-plated. =Receiver to pay express or
freight charges.=


D. LOTHROP & CO., Franklin and Hawley Sts., Boston.




GOOD NEWS FOR THE BOYS.

    A PRINTING-PRESS
    GIVEN AWAY.

[Illustration: HAND-INKING PRESS.]


Having made special arrangements with the manufacturers we are enabled
to offer the celebrated =Excelsior Printing-press Outfits= as premiums
for new subscriptions.

The premiums are =given to present subscribers= to any of our magazines
sending us =new= subscribers to WIDE AWAKE, THE PANSY, OUR LITTLE MEN
AND WOMEN and BABYLAND, =at full subscription rates=. The following
special inducements are limited to Aug. 15th, 1886.

=OUTFIT A=

    IS GIVEN FOR NEW SUBSCRIPTIONS
    AMOUNTING TO $8.50.

Or, for NEW subscriptions amounting to $6.00 _and_ $1.20 _cash
additional_.

Or, for NEW subscriptions amounting to $4.00 _and_ $2.00 _cash
additional_.

A =SELF-INKING PRESS= will be substituted in any of the above offers
for additional subscriptions amounting to $2.00.

    =OUTFIT A= consists of
      No. 1 Press, complete, 2-1/2 x 3-1/2 inches      $3.00
        Assortment of Furniture,                         .10
        Ink Roller, 3-inch, with handle,                 .35
        Can of Black Ink,                                .20
        Font of Type,                                   1.00
        Leads                                            .05
        Type Case                                        .30
                                                       -----
                                                Price, $5.00

(With a SELF-INKING PRESS, price $1.00 additional.)



=OUTFIT B=

    IS GIVEN FOR NEW SUBSCRIPTIONS
    AMOUNTING TO $16.00.

Or, for NEW subscriptions amounting to $10.00 _and_ $2.50 _cash
additional_.

Or, for NEW subscriptions amounting to $6.00 _and_ $4.50 _cash
additional_.

A =SELF-INKING PRESS= will be substituted in any of the above offers
for additional subscriptions amounting to $5.00.

    =OUTFIT B= consists of
      No. 2 Press, complete, 3-1/8 x 5-1/8 in.      $5.00
        Furniture,                                    .30
        Ink Roller, 3-inch, with handle,              .35
        Can of Black Ink                              .20
        Two Fonts of Type,                           2.50
        Extra Feed Table,                             .30
        Leads, Oil Can,                               .30
        Can of Cleaning Preparation,                  .30
        Set of Gauge Pins,                            .20
        Type Case                                     .55
                                                   ------
                                            Price, $10.00

(With a SELF-INKING PRESS, price $3.00 additional.) This outfit will do
work from the size of postal card down.

=OUTFIT C=

    IS GIVEN FOR NEW SUBSCRIPTIONS
    AMOUNTING TO $30.00.

Or, for NEW subscriptions amounting to $20.00 _and_ $5.00 _cash
additional_.

Or, for NEW subscriptions amounting to $12.00 _and_ $10.00 _cash
additional_.

A =SELF-INKING PRESS= will be substituted for additional subscriptions
amounting to $10.00.

    =OUTFIT C= consists of
      No. 2-1/2 Press, complete, 4-1/2 x 7-1/2 in.      $8.00
        Furniture,                                        .65
        Ink Roller, 5-inch, with handle,                  .50
        Can of Black Ink,                                 .35
        Four Fonts of Type,                              6.90
        Leads, Bodkin and Tweezers,                       .50
        Two Type Cases,                                  1.10
        Set of Gauge Pins,                                .20
        Composing Stick, Oil Can,                        1.20
        Can of Cleaning Preparation,                      .30
        Extra Feed Table,                                 .30
                                                       ------
                                                Price, $20.00

(With a SELF-INKING PRESS, price $6.00 additional.) This outfit is an
excellent one, as it will do for bill-heads, note-sheets, etc.

[Illustration: SELF-INKING PRESS.]

The mechanical plan of the SELF-INKING PRESS is the same as with the
hand inker except that inking rollers are added to work by the stroke
of a lever. The advantage of a self inker over a hand inker is mainly
in speed, which is increased because both hands are left free, one to
feed paper and one to work lever.

ALL EXCELSIOR PRESSES use ordinary printers type, as made in any part
of the world. NO EXCELSIOR PRESS is _cheaply_ made, but has _steel_
bearings, _best_ of screws, etc. =All presses print within 1/8 inch of
full size of chase as screws are used to lock up the forms.=

Every Excelsior Press is fully warranted in every respect. With every
press we send out is included full printed instructions on every point,
by which any purchaser can manage type-setting, press-work, etc.,
successfully and satisfactorily.

=The Outfits must be sent by Express at receiver's expense.=


D. LOTHROP & CO., Publishers, Franklin and Hawley Sts., Boston.


SPECIAL INSTRUCTIONS.

Remittances should be made by Post-office order; by registered letter;
by express money order; or by bank check. These four ways are safe. The
American Express Money Orders are very cheap and perfectly safe. Obtain
one when possible. Remittances for small amounts may be made by postal
notes, but not at our risk. D. LOTHROP & CO., Boston.


FREE!

THE HOUSEHOLD RECEIPT BOOK for a 2-cent stamp.

THE HOUSEHOLD GAME BOOK for two 2-cent stamps.

THE HOUSEHOLD PRIMER for a 2-cent stamp.

=Send to D. Lothrop & Co., 32 Franklin St., Boston, for them.=




AN UNSURPASSED PREMIUM OFFER.

TAMMEN'S ROCKY MOUNTAIN JUVENILE CABINET.


This beautiful and instructive set of minerals will be sent to any
subscriber to one of our magazines who will send us one new subscriber
to THE PANSY, or OUR LITTLE MEN AND WOMEN, or for two new subscribers
to BABYLAND. We will send =three= of the Cabinets to any subscriber who
will send us one new subscriber to WIDE AWAKE. _Read the conditions on
second page of this list if you are not a subscriber._

[Illustration: TAMMEN'S JUVENILE ROCKY MOUNTAIN CABINET]

    Young people are born naturalists. Their first
    inquiries are in regard to the attractive objects
    of nature around them; and their future mental
    activity--or stupidity--depends largely upon the
    answers they receive. _Parents_ and _teachers_ should,
    therefore, be able to encourage and satisfy the first
    cravings of their inquiring minds. To aid in this,
    and to afford abundant entertainment more pleasing
    than toys, far cheaper and more instructive than mere
    amusement, we have secured a large quantity of the
    Rocky Mountain Cabinets expressly for our special
    premium use. Each Juvenile Cabinet contains 4 specimens
    of gold, 3 of silver, 1 zinc, 1 lead, 3 iron, 2 copper
    ores--each a different variety--1 agate (surface
    polished), opalized wood, rock crystal, silicified
    wood, molydenum, Iceland spar, topaz, 2 jaspers,
    dendrite, tourmaline, opal agate, arragonite, milky
    quartz, sulphur, selenite, Amazon stone, feldspar,
    fluorspar, variscite, chalcedony, petrified wood,
    alabaster, mica, wavellite, etc. The specimens in this
    cabinet are in a strong pasteboard box, divided into
    40 sections (size 8-1/2 by 6-1/2 inches) in which the
    objects are affixed. A descriptive manual is sent with
    each cabinet, giving the history, properties and uses
    of the different minerals and gems. Price 85 cents
    postpaid.

    Address all orders to D. Lothrop & Co., Boston.


FIELD BOTANY.

    Given to any subscriber sending one new subscriber to
    BABYLAND and =10 cents cash additional=, before Aug.
    1st.

A Handbook for the Collector, containing Instructions for gathering
and preserving Plants and the formation of Herbarium. Also complete
Instructions in leaf Photography, Plant Printing and the Skeletonizing
of Leaves. By WALTER P. MANTON. Illustrated. Price, 50 cents.

From the first page to the last it is practical, and tells the young
botanist exactly what it is most desirable to know.

Two of the above books given to any subscriber sending us one new
subscription to THE PANSY or OUR LITTLE MEN AND WOMEN.


A BOY'S WORKSHOP.

    Given to any subscriber sending one new subscriber to
    THE PANSY or OUR LITTLE MEN AND WOMEN before Aug. 1st.

By A BOY AND HIS FRIENDS. With an introduction by Henry Randall Waite.
A fascinating little volume full of practical ideas for the benefit of
boys who are getting their first training in the use of tools. Price,
$1.00.


TAXIDERMY WITHOUT A TEACHER.

    Given to any subscriber sending one new subscriber to
    BABYLAND and =10 cents cash additional=, before Aug.
    1st.

Comprising a complete Manual of Instruction for preparing and
preserving Birds, Animals and Fishes; with a chapter on Hunting and
Hygiene; together with Instructions for preserving Eggs and making
Skeletons, and a number of valuable recipes. By WALTER P. MANTON.
Illustrated. Price 50 cents.


INSECTS.

[Illustration]

    Given to any subscriber sending one new subscriber to
    BABYLAND and =10 cts. cash additional= before Aug. 1st.

How to catch and how to prepare them for the Cabinet, Comprising a
Manual of Instruction for the Field-Naturalist. By WALTER P. MANTON.
Cloth, illustrated. Price, 50 cents.

The young naturalist will seize this book with avidity and study it
with an earnestness proportioned to his delight in bug-catching.


COOKERY FOR BEGINNERS.

[Illustration]

    Given to any subscriber sending one new subscriber to
    THE PANSY or OUR LITTLE MEN AND WOMEN before Aug. 1st.
    Or, to any subscriber sending two new subscriptions to
    BABYLAND and 15c. cash additional.

By MARION HARLAND, author of "Common Sense in the Household," etc.
Plain, practical lessons for girls and young housekeepers of small
means. Its directions are to be relied upon, and its results are
invariably delicate, wholesome and delicious. It possesses the
advantage of being perfectly adapted to the needs of beginners. Mothers
cannot give their daughters a more sensible and useful present than
this volume. It is one of our most valuable premiums in the sense of
real worth. Price, $1.00.


Subscriptions to the Magazines given as Premiums.

These Special Offers are good only to Aug. 1st.

We will send WIDE AWAKE one year, free, for new subscriptions to any of
the four magazines (Wide Awake, The Pansy, Our Little Men and Women and
Babyland) amounting to $6.00.

We will send THE PANSY one year, free, for new subscriptions to any of
the four magazines (Wide Awake, The Pansy, Our Little Men and Women and
Babyland) amounting to $2.00.

We will send OUR LITTLE MEN AND WOMEN one year, free, for new
subscriptions to any of the four magazines (Wide Awake, The Pansy, Our
Little Men and Women and Babyland) amounting to $2.00.

We will send BABYLAND one year, free, for new subscriptions to any of
our magazines (Wide Awake, The Pansy, Our Little Men and Women and
Babyland) amounting to $1.00.


D. LOTHROP & COMPANY, Publishers, Franklin and Hawley Sts., Boston.




[Illustration]




"=WIDE AWAKE= may now be fairly regarded as the leading magazine in
the country for _young people_. It has kept apace with the advances
which literature for young people has made of late, and is the most
attractive, instructive and practical magazine which can be put into
the hands of young people."--_Cincinnati Times-Star._

_Merriest and Wisest of all magazines for young folks is_

[Illustration: WiDE AWAKE]

_with a thousand quarto pages a year of literature by best authors, and
half a thousand pictures by best artists._


A FEW OF THE ATTRACTIONS FOR '86:

=A Midshipman at Large= and =The Cruise of the Casabianca=, two
yachting (_serial_) stories by CHARLES REMINGTON TALBOT; =A Girl and
a Jewel= (_serial_), by HARRIET PRESCOTT SPOFFORD; =Dilly and the
Captain= and =Peggy= (_serials_), by MARGARET SIDNEY; and a six months'
story by CHARLES EGBERT CRADDOCK. Also, =Royal Girls and Royal Courts=
(_12_) by Mrs. JOHN SHERWOOD; =A Cycle of Children= (_12 historic
holidays_), by ELBRIDGE S. BROOKS; =Stories of American Wars= (_12_),
=In Peril= (_12 Adventures_), =Youth in Twelve Centuries= (_24 Costume
and Race Studies_), etc.

    (FULL PROSPECTUS FREE.)

=Only $3.00 a year. Send 10 cents for specimen number (regular price 25
cents).=


_FOR THE YOUNGER BOYS AND GIRLS, AND THE BABIES:_

[Illustration: WHEN GRANDMA WAS A GIRL]


BABYLAND

Never fails to carry delight to the babies and rest to the mammas, with
its large beautiful pictures, its merry stories and jingles, in large
type on heavy paper. =50 cents a year.=


OUR LITTLE MEN AND WOMEN

With its seventy-five full-page pictures a year, and numberless
smaller, and its delightful stories and poems, is most admirable for
the youngest readers in homes and schools. =$1.00 a year.=


THE PANSY

Edited by the famous author of the "Pansy Books," is equally charming
and suitable for week-day and Sunday reading. Always contains a serial
by "Pansy." =$1.00 a year.=

Bound volumes of all the magazines for previous years can be supplied.
Also thousands of beautiful illustrated books, in colors and in black
and white--for little folks, boys and girls, and the family. _Catalogue
free._

[Illustration] _Send for specimen copies of the magazines, circulars,
catalogues of books, etc., to the Publishers._


=D. LOTHROP & CO., Boston, Mass., U. S. A.=


EVERY BOY AND EVERY GIRL

CAN EARN A GOOD WATCH AND CHAIN.

The Waterbury Watch (and Chain) given for =Four New Subscriptions=
to either THE PANSY or OUR LITTLE MEN AND WOMEN; or for =Two New
Subscriptions= and $1.30 cash additional; or, given for one _new_
subscriber to WIDE AWAKE, and 65 cts. cash additional ($3.65 in all),
if sent before August 1st, 1886. Two BABYLAND subscriptions will be
equivalent to one PANSY subscription.

[Illustration: "The Waterbury."]

    We make this special offer =only to present
    subscribers= who send us =new= subscriptions. Full
    rates must be paid for each subscription (no club rates
    being allowed) and the order must be sent to us direct,
    not through an agent. The subscriptions must be secured
    between April 10th, 1886, and Aug. 1st, 1886. (Premium
    credits not taken up cannot be used for this special
    offer.)

    The above amount includes postage. If the watch is to
    be registered (and we do not assume responsibility of
    safe delivery otherwise), 10 cents should be added.

    The Waterbury Watch will be found a marvel of accuracy
    and cheapness.

    [Illustration: NEW ENGRAVED CASE (BACK).]

    Accurate, because it will run 24 hours, and =keep time
    equal to the better grade of watches=.

    Cheap, because it will wear for years, and is offered
    at a price within the reach of everybody.

    Every watch is perfect before leaving the factory and
    is tested a few days in our office before being sent
    away.

    The price of the watch is $3.50.

    Remember, the Waterbury Watch =is not a toy, but a real
    watch=, having less than one half the number of parts
    to be found in any other going watch in the world. It
    is a stem winder.

    Remittances may be made by Money Order, Draft, Bank
    Check or American Express Money Order, at our risk.

D. LOTHROP AND COMPANY, Publishers, Franklin and Hawley Streets, Boston.


[Illustration]

LAWN TENNIS RACQUET, No. 2.

Given for two new subscriptions to THE PANSY or OUR LITTLE MEN AND
WOMEN and =10 cts. cash additional=. Or,

Given for four new subscriptions to BABYLAND =and 10 cents cash
additional=.

=TWO RACQUETS= will be given for one new subscription to WIDE AWAKE and
=50 cts. cash additional=.

This is a good light Racquet, very suitable for the boys and girls. It
is well made, with maple or sweet gum throat, and redwood handle. The
handle is finished with round corners.

Lawn tennis is fast becoming the most popular game in this country,
as it provides pleasant and healthful outdoor exercise for both boys
and girls. Price of the Racquet, $1.75. Postage and packing 15 cents
when sent as a premium. More expensive Racquets will be furnished at
proportionate rates.

D. LOTHROP AND COMPANY, Publishers, Franklin and Hawley Streets,
Boston.




TO ALL YOUNG PEOPLE.


NOW IS THE TIME TO LAY THE FOUNDATION

OF

A LIBRARY OF YOUR OWN.

Read the very liberal Premium Offers we make, and improve the best
opportunity you will ever have. A little earnest endeavor will bring
you a valuable reward.

=A Book for the Little Folks, a Book for the Young Folks, and a Book
for the Older Young Folks=, given with a handsome three-shelf Book-rack
(No. 322), to any present subscriber to one of our magazines who will
send us one new subscriber to WIDE AWAKE (at $3.00) and =20 cents cash
additional= (total, $3.20).

The book for the little folks may be selected from the following
list: "Alice's Alphabet," beautifully printed in colors; "Art in the
Nursery;" "Outline Drawings for Little Paint Brushes;" "Nursery Tiles;"
"Little Folks' Bible Pictures and Stories." Fully illustrated. Price,
50 cents each.

For the young folks select one from the following list: "In No-Man's
Land," a wonder-story. Price, 75 cents; "The Story of Puff," a lovely
story of bird-life. Price, 60 cents; "In the Woods and Out," by Pansy.
Price, $1.00.

For the older young folks select one from the following list:
"Five Little Peppers, and how They Grew," price, $1.50; "Two young
Homesteaders," price, $1.50; "Cooking Club of Tu-Whit Hollow," price,
$1.00; "Half Year at Bronckton," a story of schoolboy life, price,
$1.25; "Boy Life in the U. S. Navy," price, $1.50.

The books and book-rack will be sent in one package by express, charges
to be paid by the receiver.

=This Offer is limited to Aug. 15, 1886.=


STUDENT'S BOOK-RACK, NO. 222.

[Illustration]

    Given to any subscriber who will send us one
    new subscription to BABYLAND and =15 cents cash
    additional=, before Aug. 15th.

This book-rack has two shelves 22 inches long, will hold thirty volumes
of suitable size for student's use, and can be put in a small trunk or
large valise. Price, 65 cents. Receiver to pay express charges on the
book-rack.

These book-racks are light and ornamental.


FAMILY BOOK-RACK, NO. 322.

[Illustration]

    Given to any subscriber who will send us one new
    subscription to THE PANSY, or OUR LITTLE MEN AND WOMEN
    and =25 cents cash additional=; or, given for one new
    subscription to THE PANSY or OUR LITTLE MEN AND WOMEN
    and one new subscription to BABYLAND. (Total $1.50.)

This book-rack has three shelves 22 inches long, with capacity for
holding 60 volumes of ordinary size, and when packed for removal will
occupy a space of 7 by 30 inches and about 2 inches deep and weighs
only 4 pounds. Price, $1.15. Receiver to pay express charges.


BOOK-RACKS FOR EVERY HOME.

These Book-racks are something entirely new; something which everybody
needs.

Many people having a taste for reading, are prevented from purchasing
book-cases on account of their high cost. Consequently their books will
lie around on tables, on the floor or in closets until they become
soiled or destroyed. This difficulty in keeping books from being
injured can be obviated by obtaining the "Lock Shelf Book-rack," an
article both beautiful and useful.

The simplicity of their construction will enable any one to take them
apart and put them up again in a moment's time. They are made to hang
on the wall from strong screw hooks which are furnished with each rack.
(Put hooks close to the uprights.) Can also stand on the floor.

D. LOTHROP & COMPANY, Publishers, Franklin and Hawley Sts., Boston.




[Illustration]


A GOOD SUGGESTION.

    Economy, as wise folks say,
    Is wealth pronounced another way,
    So while "hard times" the people cry,
    The Toilet Soaps they should not buy,
    Let all who buy such Soaps take care
    To weigh the cake exact and fair,
    And find the pay in figures round
    A dollar, more or less, per pound.
    What course should people then pursue?
    In short, the only thing to do,
    Though rich in bonds, or worldly poor,
    The "IVORY SOAP" they should procure,
    Which may be bought from coast to coast,
    At sixteen cents per pound at most,
    And does more satisfaction grant
    Than all the Toilet Soaps extant.


A WORD OF WARNING.

There are many white soaps, each represented to be "just as good as the
'Ivory';" they ARE NOT, but like all counterfeits, lack the peculiar
and remarkable qualities of the genuine. Ask for "Ivory" Soap and
insist upon getting it.

    Copyright 1886, by Procter & Gamble.

       *       *       *       *       *

Transcriber's Notes:

Punctuation errors repaired.

Page 284, "cany" changed to "candy" (candy-pull, early)

Page 296, "propogation" changed to "propagation" (the propagation of
then)

Page 299, "misdeanor" changed to "misdemeanor" (a boy's misdemeanor)

Page 311, "it" changed to "in" (in the midst of)

Page 5, "tryung" changed to "trying" (just how trying)

Page 7, word "of" added to text (large lot of old toys)

Page 15, "supplied also" changed to "supplied. Also" (be supplied. Also
thousands)






End of Project Gutenberg's The Pansy Magazine, July 1886, by Various