The Project Gutenberg eBook of Harper's Young People, August 15, 1882
    
This ebook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and
most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions
whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms
of the Project Gutenberg License included with this ebook or online
at www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States,
you will have to check the laws of the country where you are located
before using this eBook.

Title: Harper's Young People, August 15, 1882

Author: Various

Release date: May 1, 2019 [eBook #59410]

Language: English

Credits: Produced by Annie R. McGuire


*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK HARPER'S YOUNG PEOPLE, AUGUST 15, 1882 ***




Produced by Annie R. McGuire








[Illustration: HARPER'S YOUNG PEOPLE]

       *       *       *       *       *

VOL. III.--NO. 146. PUBLISHED BY HARPER & BROTHERS, NEW YORK. PRICE FOUR
CENTS.

Tuesday, August 15, 1882. Copyright, 1882, by HARPER & BROTHERS. $1.50
per Year, in Advance.

       *       *       *       *       *




[Illustration: "DON'T THINK FOR A MOMENT OF GETTING ANY OTHER CANOE."]

THE CRUISE OF THE CANOE CLUB.

BY W. L. ALDEN,

AUTHOR OF "THE MORAL-PIRATES," "THE CRUISE OF THE 'GHOST,'" ETC., ETC.

CHAPTER I.


It is a very easy thing for four boys to make up their minds to get four
canoes and to go on a canoe cruise, but it is not always so easy to
carry out such a project, as Charley Smith, Tom Schuyler, Harry Wilson,
and Joe Sharpe discovered.

Canoes cost money; and though some canoes cost more than others, it is
impossible to buy a new wooden canoe of an approved model for less than
seventy-five dollars. Four canoes, at seventy-five dollars each, would
cost altogether three hundred dollars. As the entire amount of
pocket-money in the possession of the boys was only seven dollars and
thirteen cents, it was clear that they were not precisely in a position
to buy canoes.

There was Harry's uncle, who had already furnished his nephew and his
young comrades first with a row-boat, and then with a sail-boat. Even a
benevolent uncle deserves some mercy, and the boys agreed that it would
never do to ask Uncle John to spend three hundred dollars in canoes for
them. "The most we can ask of him," said Charley Smith, "is to let us
sell the _Ghost_ and use the money to help pay for canoes."

Now the _Ghost_, in which the boys had made a cruise along the south
shore of Long Island, was a very nice sail-boat, but it was improbable
that any one would be found who would be willing to give more than two
hundred dollars for her. There would still be a hundred dollars wanting,
and the prospect of finding that sum seemed very small.

"If we could only have staid on that water-logged brig and brought her
into port, we should have made lots of money," said Tom. "The Captain of
the schooner that towed us home went back with a steamer and brought the
brig in yesterday. Suppose we go and look at her once more?"

While cruising in the _Ghost_ the boys had found an abandoned brig,
which they had tried to sail into New York Harbor, but they had been
compelled to give up the task, and to hand her over to the Captain of a
schooner which towed the partly disabled _Ghost_ into port. They all
thought they would like to see the brig again, so they went down to
Burling Slip, where she was lying, and went on board her.

The Captain of the schooner met the boys on the dock. He was in
excellent spirits, for the brig was loaded with valuable South American
timber, and he was sure of receiving as much as ten thousand dollars
from her owners. He knew very well that while the boys had no legal
right to any of the money, they had worked hard in trying to save the
brig, and had been the means of putting her in his way. He happened to
be an honest, generous man, and he felt very rich; so he insisted on
making each of the boys a present.

The present was sealed up in an envelope, which he gave to Charley
Smith, telling him not to look at its contents until after dinner--the
boys having mentioned that they were all to take dinner together at
Uncle John's house. Charley put the envelope rather carelessly in his
pocket; but when it was opened it was found to contain four new
one-hundred-dollar bills.

It need hardly be said that the boys were delighted. They showed the
money to Uncle John, who told them that they had fairly earned it, and
need feel no hesitation about accepting it. They had now money enough to
buy canoes and to pay the expenses of a canoe cruise. Mr. Schuyler, Mr.
Sharpe, and Charley's guardian were consulted, and at Uncle John's
request gave their consent to the canoeing scheme. The first great
difficulty in the way was thus entirely removed.

"I don't know much about canoes," remarked Uncle John, when the boys
asked his advice as to what kind of canoes they should get, "but I know
the Commodore of a canoe club. You had better go and see him, and follow
his advice. I'll give you a letter of introduction to him."

No time was lost in finding the Commodore, and Charley Smith explained
to him that four young canoeists would like to know what was the very
best kind of canoe for them to get.

The Commodore, who, in spite of his magnificent title, wasn't in the
least alarming, laughed, and said: "That is a question that I've made up
my mind never to try to answer. But I'll give you the names of four
canoeists, each of whom uses a different variety of canoe. You go and
see them, listen to what they say, believe it all, and then come back
and see me, and we'll come to a decision." He then wrote four notes of
introduction, gave them to the boys, and sent them away.

The first canoeist to whom the boys were referred received them with
great kindness, and told them that it was fortunate they had come to
him. "The canoe that you want," said he, "is the 'Rice Lake' canoe, and
if you had gone to somebody else, and he had persuaded you to buy 'Rob
Roy' canoes or 'Shadows,' you would have made a great mistake. The 'Rice
Lake' canoe is nearly flat-bottomed, and so stiff that there is no
danger that you will capsize her. She paddles easily, and sails faster
than any other canoe. She is roomy, and you can carry about twice as
much in her as you can carry in a 'Rob Roy.' She has no keel, so that
you can run rapids easily in her, and she is built in a peculiar way
that makes it impossible for her to leak. Don't think for a moment of
getting any other canoe, for if you do you will never cease to regret
it."

He was such a pleasant, frank gentleman, and was so evidently earnest in
what he said, that the boys at once decided to get "Rice Lake" canoes.
They did not think it worth while to make any farther inquiries; but, as
they had three other notes of introduction with them, Tom Schuyler said
that it would hardly do to throw them away. So they went to see the next
canoeist, though without the least expectation that he would say
anything that would alter their decision.

Canoeist No. 2 was as polite and enthusiastic as canoeist No. 1. "So you
boys want to get canoes, do you?" said he. "Well, there is only one
canoe for you to get, and that is the 'Shadow.' She paddles easily, and
sails faster than any other canoe. She's not a flat-bottomed skiff, like
the 'Rice Laker,' that will spill you whenever a squall strikes her, but
she has good bearings, and you can't capsize her unless you try hard.
Then, she is decked all over, and you can sleep in her at night, and
keep dry even in a thunder-storm; her water-tight compartments have
hatches in them, so that you can stow blankets and things in them that
you want to keep dry; and she has a keel, so that when you run rapids,
and she strikes on a rock, she will strike on her keel instead of her
planks. It isn't worth while for you to look at any other canoe, for
there is no canoe except the 'Shadow' that is worth having."

"You don't think much of the 'Rice Lake' canoe, then?" asked Harry.

"Why, she isn't a civilized canoe at all," replied the canoeist. "She is
nothing but a heavy, wooden copy of the Indian birch. She hasn't any
deck, she hasn't any water-tight compartments, and she hasn't any keel.
Whatever else you do, don't get a 'Rice Laker.'"

The boys thanked the advocate of the "Shadow," and when they found
themselves in the street again they wondered which of the two canoeists
could be right, for each directly contradicted the other, and each
seemed to be perfectly sincere. They reconsidered their decision to buy
"Rice Lake" canoes, and looked forward with interest to their meeting
with canoeist No. 3.

That gentleman was just as pleasant as the other two, but he did not
agree with a single thing that they had said. "There are several
different models of canoes," he remarked, "but that is simply because
there are ignorant people in the world. Mr. Macgregor, the father of
canoeing, always uses a 'Rob Roy' canoe, and no man who has once been in
a good 'Rob Roy' will ever get into any other canoe. The 'Rob Roy'
paddles like a feather, and will outsail any other canoe. She weighs
twenty pounds less than those great, lumbering canal-boats, the 'Shadow'
and the 'Rice Laker,' and it don't break your back to paddle her or to
carry her round a dam. She is decked over, but her deck isn't all cut up
with hatches. There's plenty of room to sleep in her, and her
water-tight compartments are what they pretend to be--not a couple of
leaky boxes stuffed full of blankets."

"We have been advised," began Charley, "to get 'Shadows' or 'Rice--'"

"Don't you do it," interrupted the canoeist. "It's lucky for you that
you came to see me. It's a perfect shame for people to try to induce you
to waste your money on worthless canoes. Mind you get 'Rob Roys,' and
nothing else. Other canoes don't deserve the name. They are schooners,
or scows, or canal-boats, but the 'Rob Roy' is a genuine canoe."

"Now for the last canoeist on the list!" exclaimed Harry, as the boys
left the office of canoeist No. 3. "I wonder What sort of a canoe he
uses?"

"I'm glad there is only one more of them for us to see," said Joe. "The
Commodore told us to believe all they said, and I'm trying my best to do
it, but it's the hardest job I ever tried."

The fourth canoeist was, on the whole, the most courteous and amiable of
the four. He begged his young friends to pay no attention to those who
recommended wooden canoes, no matter what model they might be. "Canvas,"
said he, "is the only thing that a canoe should be built of. It is light
and strong, and if you knock a hole in it, you can mend it in five
minutes. If you want to spend a great deal of money and own a yacht that
is too small to sail in with comfort and too clumsy to be paddled, buy a
wooden canoe; but if you really want to cruise, you will, of course, get
canvas canoes."

"We have been advised to get 'Rice Lakers,' 'Shadows,' and 'Rob Roys,'"
said Tom, "and we did not know until now that there was such a thing as
a canvas canoe."

"It is very sad," replied the canoeist, "that people should take
pleasure in giving such advice. They must know better. Take my advice,
my dear boys, and get canvas canoes. All the really good canoeists in
the country would say the same thing to you."

"We must try," said Joe, as the boys walked back to the Commodore's
office, "to believe that the 'Rice Laker,' the 'Shadow,' the 'Rob Roy,'
and the canvas canoe is the best one ever built. It seems to me
something like believing that four and one are just the same. Perhaps
you fellows can do it, but I'm not strong enough to believe as much as
that all at one time."

The Commodore smiled when the boys entered his office for the second
time, and said, "Well, of course you've found out what is the best
canoe, and know just what you want to buy?"

"We've seen four men," replied Harry, "and each one says that the canoe
that he recommends is the only good one, and that all the others are
good for nothing."

"I might have sent you to four other men, and they would have told you
of four other canoes, each of which is the best in existence. But
perhaps you have already heard enough to make up your minds."

"We're farther from making up our minds than ever," said Harry. "I do
wish you would tell us what kind of canoe is really the best."

"The truth is," said the Commodore, "that there isn't much to choose
among the different models of canoes, and you'll find that every
canoeist is honestly certain that he has the best one. Now I won't
undertake to select canoes for you, though I will suggest that a light
'Rob Roy' would probably be a good choice for the smallest of you boys.
Why don't you try all four of the canoes that have just been recommended
to you? Then, if you cruise together, you can perhaps find out if any
one of them is really better than the others. I will give you the names
of three or four builders, all of whom build good strong boats."

This advice pleased the boys, and they resolved to accept it. That
evening they all met at Harry's home, and decided what canoes they would
get. Harry determined to get a "Shadow," Tom a "Rice Laker," Charley a
canvas canoe, and Joe a "Rob Roy"; and the next morning orders for the
four canoes were mailed to the builders whom the Commodore had
recommended.

[TO BE CONTINUED.]




GRAN'MA'S STITCHES.

BY MRS. A. E. THOMAS.


  "Hush, dear," said mamma, while busy at play
    Were three little mischievous witches;
  Little Charley and Lulu, and sweet baby May,
    "Hush! Gran'ma is counting her stitches.

  "Don't chatter so loud. Ah, see her lips move,
    To wreathe in that smile which enriches
  Your own lives and mine, my dear little elves;
    Ah, hear her now counting her stitches.

  "See her pearly white ball, and her soft bordered cap,
    With little blue bows in the niches,
  And the sheath for her glasses that lie on her lap,
    While she's busily counting her stitches."

  The bright summer sped, and the beautiful snow
    Came falling, and filling the ditches,
  When warm little toes, wrapped in soft woollen hose,
    Showed that grandma _had_ counted her stitches.




GLUCK.

BY MRS. JOHN LILLIE.


When I was a child I used to be very fond of a faded little picture
which hung in my grandmother's house. It was on a staircase, and going
up and down we liked to stop and look at it, and make up stories about
it.

[Illustration: THE OLD PICTURE ON THE STAIRWAY.]

The picture represented a fine room, evidently in a palace, and a very
splendidly dressed lady, with a tremendous coiffure and a brocaded gown,
sitting before a spinet, or old-fashioned piano.

Near her was seated a gentleman, also dressed in the fashion of 1770. He
seemed to be teaching her to play. The young lady was charmingly pretty,
we thought. The gentleman had a strong, rather stern face, high
cheek-bones, and a big forehead; but the look of his eyes was by no
means unkindly. Underneath the picture was engraved in script, with any
number of flourishes, "_Gluck and Marie Antoinette_."

The little picture was of no particular merit as a work of art, yet it
possessed such an extraordinary fascination for my childish eyes that
the other day, when at a concert I listened to some of Gluck's grand
music, the strains seemed to bring it back in a flash to my mind's eye.
In imagination I saw again clearly the little ebony frame, the faded
tints, the pretty smiling young Dauphiness, and the stern, kind-hearted
master.

Christoph Willibald, Ritter von Gluck, was born at Weidenwang on July 2,
1714. His destiny was to improve the form and style of operatic music,
and to leave behind him some of the most enchanting compositions the
world has ever listened to.

Gluck's father was in the service of a Prince, and Christoph had all the
musical advantages of the period. He learned the violin, the organ, and
the harpsichord, and early tried his hand at composition. His ideas were
mainly dramatic, but the opera of that day was very unsatisfactory, and
Gluck's first operas were not a great advance on those of other writers.
However, he felt quite sure that something much better could be done,
and when in 1736 he went to England, he visited Handel, who was then
prosperous and busy in the court of George II.

Gluck was only twenty-two, an eager, restless young man, with his head
full of ideas and his pockets full of manuscripts. To old Handel he
came, and showed him his music, and begging for criticism, but Handel
would only admit that it "promised well." Off went Gluck to Paris, and
there met with much encouragement from the poets and writers of the day,
as well as from the King and Queen. I do not think that, with all his
work and his success, his life could have been very happy during those
years. He was easily excited, easily depressed. He hated the wickedness
of the people about him, their light ways, their frivolous ideas, even
their splendor and riches. Paris in those days was a place in which it
was hard for a young man to fear God and himself, and that Gluck lived
free from the sins of those about him ought to make us less severe in
judging the weakness of his later years. He began to use stimulants for
his health, and gradually became addicted to drinking to drown thought
and fire him for his work.

Fashion governed art and music very curiously in those days. It was in
1746 that there was a rage in England for what was called the "glasses."
This was in reality a harmonica--an instrument made of glasses, and
which, by applying a finger moistened with water, produced what were
considered agreeable concords. It is odd to think of the great composer
Gluck making his bow before the public at the Haymarket Theatre as a
performer on the musical glasses. In one of Horace Walpole's famous
letters he writes of this event as stirring the fashionable world. The
instrument later became very popular, and Mozart and Beethoven did not
disdain to write music for it.

Gluck's work went on very steadily in spite of the controversies of his
friends and enemies and his personal annoyances. Final success came with
his grand opera founded on the mythological story of _Orpheus and
Eurydice_.

I have told you that Gluck reformed the style of the opera. He modelled
his work upon the old Greek ideas of dramatic art. He felt that so far
the opera had been more like a concert--a mere collection of melodies
and ballets. He bent all his energies to making a lyric drama of opera,
and he succeeded. To Gluck we owe the best that we have had in opera
since his day.

In Vienna much of his time and his work had to be given to the princes
and princesses who were his patrons. On one occasion the royal family
performed his opera of _Il Parnasso_. It was about this time he taught
the Archduchess Marie Antoinette, and later she wrote from Paris to her
sister speaking of him as "notre cher Gluck" (our dear Gluck).

It was Gluck who first introduced cymbals and the big drum into the
orchestra. He fought hard over this innovation. His enemies got out
satirical pamphlets, in which his "big noises" were ridiculed, but Gluck
went his own way, determined to carry his point and prove himself right.

Gluck's last opera was _Echo et Narcisse_. This was produced in 1779,
and soon after he retired to Vienna, where he passed his last years
among the kindest friends. In 1787 he died suddenly.

The great object of Gluck's life was thoroughly attained. He made
himself felt in every branch of operatic performance. He improved the
method, arrangement, and especially its _dramatic_ power. He made it a
drama, and its music classical.

This word _classical_, as applied to music, I am sure many of our young
people do not fully understand. To define it completely would be
difficult, but I will try and give you some idea of what it means.

Strictly speaking, then, classical music is that which is written
according to rule and law: with an intention of producing the most
complete harmonies. Bach, Handel, Haydn, Mozart, Gluck, and countless
other composers wrote strictly classical music, although Gluck was not
remarkable for his counterpoint.

Counterpoint is the "art of combining melodies." The name had a very
natural origin. In old times, when notes were designated by little
points or pricks, and several of these were joined together to produce a
harmony, it was called "point against point," or _counterpoint_. If the
rules of counterpoint are strictly observed, the piece is said to be
composed "in perfect counterpoint."

Sometimes you will find a fragment of simple old music with various
parts added. This would be "adding counterpoint to a subject."

Handel, when Gluck went to him first, said "he knew no more of
counterpoint than his cook," but the master of modern opera had many
other strong points, and the music of _Orpheus_ and of _Iphigenia_ will
endure while there are hearts to listen.




HURRAH! FOUR KINGS!


[Illustration: FREDERICK WILLIAM AUGUST VICTOR ERNEST.]

No less than five long names belong to the little baby Prince who
nestles so cozily here on his great-grandfather's lap. The soldierly
looking old gentleman is the Emperor William of Germany. The babe is
also the great-grandson of the good Queen Victoria, but the little
fellow is too young to know to what honors he is born. His father, who
stands on the right, is himself the son of the Crown Prince, who will be
the successor of the sturdy old Emperor William when he shall have
passed away.

"Hurrah! Four Kings!" was the joyous cry with which the royal babe was
greeted when he was first presented to the Emperor. You may look at the
four in our artist's beautiful picture, and then, perhaps, you will be
interested to hear about the christening, which took place in a gallery
of the Marble Palace at Potsdam, on the afternoon of June 11, 1882.

This was the anniversary of the Emperor's wedding. Himself and the
Empress Augusta, his wife, the Crown Prince and Princess, and the
youthful father and mother, stood together before the clergyman, the
Emperor receiving and holding the babe in his own arms. Around this
group were clustered a great number of stately royal personages,
brilliantly dressed, and blazing with jewels and decorations. Among the
godfathers and godmothers were included not only Kings, Queens, and
Princes, but, to their delight no doubt, the youthful uncles and aunts
of the pretty baby.

The minister preached a sermon suitable to the occasion, from the text,
"And now abideth faith, hope, charity, these three; but the greatest of
these is charity."

Three years ago, when the Emperor's golden wedding was celebrated, the
same preacher spoke from the same text, which is certainly a very
beautiful one, especially when we remember that charity as here used
means love.

Very likely some of you are wondering how the baby Prince behaved during
the ceremony. For a while he was very good and patient, but by-and-by he
grew very restless, and presently screamed as loud and cried as heartily
as though he had been some little peasant Fritz, and not a royal little
Frederick William. All the same, the baptismal water was sprinkled on
his brow, and he received the blessing from the lips of the good
minister. He was called Frederick William August Victor Ernest. These
names have long been borne by the Kings of Prussia. May he wear them
worthily! After the christening there was a magnificent musical service
by the choir, and then the great people sat down together to an imperial
dinner. The tired little Prince was taken to his nursery, and put to
sleep with many a kiss.




LEO.

BY EDWARD I. STEVENSON.


Ford Bonner may live to be a very old man--he is "going on" fifteen
now--but it is likely that he will always recollect what occurred upon a
certain dark evening in August two years ago. Ford's father and mother
were travelling in Europe that summer; hence Ford, who was all the rest
of the year a boarding-school-boy of the first water, spent his vacation
at his Uncle Pepper's country place.

Ford's chief companion from day to day, as he scrambled among the rocky
spurs, was Leo. Leo was a Scotch grayhound, Major Pepper's particular
pet. Now one curious trait of his did equal honor to his head and heart.
He had been bought at Black's Hollow, a village--if a store, which also
was a Post-office, and six or seven dwellings, can be called a
village--about two miles further up the road, among the mountains.
Regularly once or twice a week would Leo slip innocently off in the
morning for a whole day's visiting with any four-legged playmates whose
society he had formerly relished at Black's Hollow. On such occasions
Ford had to ramble on the heights alone.

Now Amzi Spinner, Major Pepper's hired man, had a brother who kept the
Post-office and store at the Hollow. As soon as Amzi discovered Leo's
trick of going so frequently thither of his own will, it seemed good to
him to teach the dog to carry a letter there with safety and dispatch
whenever told to do so. Amzi would tie his missives securely about the
bright-eyed, lithe dog's neck, and say in his Yankee drawl:

"Naow, Leo, you jest make tracks for the village, double-quick. Do you
understand? That letter'd ought to git to the store. Be off!"

Leo would leap away, barking joyfully, and in an hour return to seek
Amzi in field or barn, collared with an answer from Lot Spinner. In this
way the dog became, in a limited sense, the messenger and postman of the
family when occasion prompted, and a very quick and faithful one.

It was the last Thursday in August when Major Pepper, finishing his
second cup of coffee at breakfast, exclaimed to his wife, "There, Helen.
I forgot to tell you last night that if you want to go down to the town
in the phaeton with me to-day and give this afternoon to picking out
those carpets, it'll suit me capitally."

Aunt Pepper laughed. "Why does a man always choose just the wrong day of
all others?" she said, merrily. "Amzi and Mira" (Mira was Amzi's wife
and Aunt Pepper's cook) "wanted to go to New York to-day to attend that
wedding--her sister's, you recollect. They started early (at four
o'clock) for the station, and I don't expect them back until long after
we're in bed to-night. I can't leave the house and Ford to take care of
themselves."

"Oh yes, you can," laughed Uncle Pepper. "Ford might go along if it
wouldn't be a hot and stupid day in town for him--we shall be so busy.
Leave him a good luncheon, and let him keep house by himself for once.
Leo will help him. You wouldn't mind it, eh, Ford?"

Ford laughed too, and said that he rather guessed not.

"We'll not be later in getting back home than six o'clock, I suppose,"
said Aunt Pepper, reluctantly consenting.

"Oh dear no," replied the Major, "and Ford will just have a fine
appetite for a late dinner."

A half-hour later Ford and Leo, the one with his hand and the other with
his active if unimportant tail, waved Major and Mrs. Pepper good-by from
the broad piazza, and then turned themselves about to begin the work of
passing a jolly day together. Ford did not like to leave the house for
any length of time.

A wooden swing he was contriving in the garden, the arrangement of his
collection of Indian relics, and a letter to his room-mate at the
school--one Harry North--took up all the forenoon.

This latter, or letter business, was still on hand, and Ford was
scratching away at it in the summer-house, when Leo suddenly growled.
Then he sprang up, barking violently. A strange gentleman was leisurely
drawing near the pair of friends. Ford rose and stepped out of his
retreat.

"I beg pardon for interrupting you, sir," began the stranger, very
pleasantly, "but are your father and mother at home to-day?"

"My father and mother are in Europe, sir," replied Ford, "but--"

"Ah--oh--I see," continued the civil stranger. "I had forgotten that my
old friends Major and Mrs. Pepper had no children. Is your uncle at
home?"

"I'm sorry, sir," replied Ford, "but they have both driven to town this
morning, and will not be back till evening. Be quiet, Leo!" for Leo
persisted in showing his teeth, and making sundry impolite noises, not
to say growls, while he eyed the polite new-comer very much as if he had
been a snake.

"A fine dog that," remarked the stranger, carelessly. "Well, since I am
unlucky enough to miss your uncle, could I see that excellent man he
employs here, Amzi--Amzi--dear me, I can not just recall his name." The
strange gentleman had a clear, rich voice. He was, by-the-way, a stout,
well-made young man, with a dark blue cravat.

"Sorry again, sir," returned Ford, "but Amzi and Mira are away too until
quite late this evening. It just happens so. Couldn't I take your
message for uncle? Leo, be still, I tell you!"

"You're very kind, my dear boy," said the unknown gentleman, looking at
his watch, and backing out from the summer-house gracefully, "but I
won't trouble you. I should prefer riding over from my place to-morrow
evening. Please tell your good uncle that Mr. Alexander Kingbolt--he
will remember my name--called on business, and will see him to-morrow
evening if possible, at eight. Good-by." And Mr. Alexander Kingbolt,
whistling sweetly "There's one more River to Cross," stepped into a
light buggy standing without the gate. Another gentleman sat in it, and
the two rode away talking rapidly.

The afternoon shadows grew long; twilight closed in; Ford and Leo sat
together, the boy with his hand upon the dog's head. Both began to feel
somewhat lonely--at least Ford did. Why in the world did not the phaeton
come toiling up the steep mountain road? Halloa! a white owl fluttered
across the lawn into an acacia.

Ford had long desired to ascertain that particular owl's private
address. He dashed after it, and Leo bore him company. Up through the
dark garden bird, boy, and dog sped. Presently Ford slipped and fell. He
uttered a cry when he rose, and found that he could put his left foot to
the ground only with a pain that sickened him, so severely had his fall
strained it.

Very slowly and painfully Ford limped into the garden again, his unlucky
foot feeling more miserable with each step. All at once he looked
through the trees, and saw lights in the dining-room of his uncle's
house.

Major Pepper and Aunt Helen were back, doubtless much disturbed to know
where in the world Ford and Leo had gone, or since what hour of the day.

As he drew nearer the closed shutters, he caught the sound of low
strange voices, the faint clink of a hammer. Could it be possible
anything was amiss? Ford was frightened, but prudent. "Leo," said he,
very softly, but almost sternly, to the dog, whose ears were on the
alert too, "lie down."

Leo obeyed.

Forgetting his painful foot in his breathless excitement, Ford crept
down along the back of the house. The strange voices came clearly from
within. "And we'd better be quick about it," somebody was saying.

A robbery it surely was. Ford turned the blind and looked within the
dining-room. A lamp was lit. The small safe wherein Major Pepper usually
kept his papers and any large sum of money he happened to have in the
house for a day or so was rolled out to the middle of the room. Over it
leaned a tall well-dressed man, impatiently directing another man who
knelt before it, and was working at the old-fashioned lock with some
tools he had evidently brought for the purpose.

Ford caught sight of a profile, and the sound of "One more River to
Cross," whistled very gently. The man working at the safe door was Mr.
Alexander Kingbolt. An exceedingly frightened boy was Ford Bonner.

"So then they can't possibly get over the bridge?" said Mr. Kingbolt,
plying his chisel.

"All the planks are up, and hid away till we go down, I tell you,"
replied the other, "and a red lantern hung across it."

"The bridge," Ford knew at once, must mean a narrow rough structure
across a stream just before the road from town wound up the mountain.

"They're likely on their way around by the other one. It'll take them
till midnight."

There was a pause. Then said Mr. Kingbolt, out of breath, "Where do you
suppose that boy and the dog are?"

"Lost on the mountain, I dare say. But if they come back before we get
through, we can fix them somehow."

Ford slipped from below the window. The boy understood all. Many houses
in the town had been robbed lately. The "gang" had in some way learned
that Major Pepper was occasionally obliged to keep large amounts of
money in his lonely country house. They had chosen their day carefully,
made or else altered their plans that very morning, thanks to Ford's own
politeness in answering Mr. Kingbolt's questions. By a trick they had
sent Major and Mrs. Pepper around by their longest route for home. The
whole thing was a hastily but cleverly planned scheme. And Ford could do
nothing--alone; the nearest houses in the village two miles up the
mountain; his swollen foot!

Had he forgotten Leo? The thought darted into his confused mind like a
flash. He leaned forward into a ray of light, and drew out gently his
pencil, and the envelope, still undirected, in which was his letter to
Harry North. He managed to control his excitement and terror enough to
scrawl upon it: "There are burglars in our house. Come quick, somebody.
Ford Bonner."

The envelope was secured by Ford's shoestring to the greyhound's neck.
"Be very quiet, Leo," he kept whispering, almost beseechingly, as he led
the dog as well as he could down the far side of the garden, along the
fence, and some distance up the road, lest Leo should bark.

"Quick, Leo! To the Post-office--to the Post-office!" he cried,
tremblingly, pushing and pointing the dog off.

Leo refused to go. He did not understand all this mystery. Ford felt for
a stick, and shook it at him. Leo bounded away silently up the steep.
Ford half fell, half sat down, in the darkness on the grass.

He never knew how long it was before he was startled from his stupor by
hearing stealthy steps approach down the road. He strained his young
eyes to make out a dozen tall figures moving noiselessly toward his
hiding-place. They were the astonished men from the village, roused from
their circle of gossip around the stoop of the store by Leo's advent and
extraordinary excitement.

The letter had been discovered at once by Amzi's brother himself, who,
like the rest, with stockings drawn over his boots, headed the party.
Ford intercepted them, and made his hurried explanation.

"Stay here," said Lot Spinner, "till we call you."

They leaped the garden wall. A few minutes later Ford heard shouts, and
the sound of a gun or two, and a struggle on the house piazza.

"They've got 'em!" he exclaimed, delight and relief getting the best of
his long fright and pain.

And so they had; for when Lot Spinner came up and carried the boy down
to the house, "Mr. Alexander Kingbolt"--afterward put into jail as
Dennis Leary--his comrades, and their tools were all secured under rude
guardianship together.

Just as Ford was helped into the house, Leo darted up. The dog had been
left behind, lest he should warn the burglars of the party coming from
the village, but he had contrived to make his escape.

Ford joined in the cheers for him when at eleven o'clock Major and Mrs.
Pepper rode hurriedly up to the brightly lit house to hear the end of
the story which the village people up the mountain had stopped them
hurrying toward home to tell. Soon after arrived Amzi and Mira; more
explanations, and much more ado made over Ford and Leo than either of
them relished.

"The scamps would have got away with a couple of thousand dollars,
Ford," exclaimed the Major again and again. "It was some money that a
man was to call here and get to-morrow morning."

Leo wagged his tail complacently.

So much for a brave boy's coolness, and an obedient dog's intelligence.




MR. STUBBS'S BROTHER.[1]

[1] Begun in No. 127, HARPER'S YOUNG PEOPLE.

BY JAMES OTIS,

AUTHOR OF "TOBY TYLER," "TIM AND TIP," ETC.

CHAPTER XX.

ABNER'S DEATH.


After Toby was left alone in the tent he remained for some time looking
at the triumphant monkey, and listening to Ben's attempts to crawl
around under the barn as fast as the cat could, when suddenly, as if
such a thought had not occurred to him before, he cried out,

"Don't you want me to come an' help you, Ben?"

"You keep that monkey back; that's all the helpin' I want," Ben replied,
almost sharply; and then the sounds indicated that the cat had suddenly
changed her position to one farther under the barn, while the boy was
trying to frighten her out.

"Give it up, Ben," shouted Toby, after waiting some time longer, and not
seeing any sign of success on the part of his friend. "If you come up
here about dark, you'll have a chance to catch her, for she'll have to
come out for something to eat."

"You take the monkey into the house, an' I'll get along all right," was
the almost savage reply. "She smells him, an' jest as long as he's
there, she'll stay under here."

It seemed to Toby almost cruel to desert his friend and partner just at
a time when he needed assistance; but he could do no less than go away,
since he had been urged so peremptorily to do so, and catching his pet
without much difficulty, he carried Mr. Stubbs's brother away from the
scene of the ruin he had caused.

Ben's remark that the monkey had "broke the show all up" seemed to be
very near the truth, for the boys would not think of going on with so
small a number of animals; and even if they decided to do without the
menagerie, Bob's calf had wrecked one side of the tent so completely
that that particular piece of canvas was past mending.

"I don't know what we'll do," said Toby, mournfully, after he had
finished telling the story to Aunt Olive. "The boys act as if they
blamed me, because Mr. Stubbs's brother is so bad, and Joe's squirrels
an' Bob's mice are all gone. Ben's hen don't look as if she'd ever
'mount to much, an' it don't seem to me that he can get Mrs. Simpson's
cat an' every one of the kittens out from under the barn."

"Now don't go to worryin' about that, Toby," said Aunt Olive, as she
patted him on the head, and gave him a large piece of cake at the same
time. "You can get a dozen cats for Mrs. Simpson if she wants 'em; and
as for mice, you tell Bob to set his trap out in the granary two or
three times, an' he'll have as many as he can take care of. I'm glad the
squirrels did get away, for it seems such a sin to shut them up in a
cage when they're so happy in the woods."

Toby was cheered by the very philosophical view that Aunt Olive took of
the affair, and came to the conclusion that matters were not more than
half so bad as they might have been.

"You be careful that your monkey don't get out again, an' go to cuttin'
up as he did last night, for I shall get provoked with him if he hurts
my ducks any more;" and with this bit of advice Aunt Olive went upstairs
to see Abner.

Toby went out to the shed to assure himself that Mr. Stubbs's brother
was tied so that he could not escape, and while he was there Uncle
Daniel came in with an armful of strips of board.

"There, Toby boy," he said, as he laid them on the floor, and looked
around for the hammer and nails, "I'm going to build a pen for your
monkey right up here in one corner, so that we sha'n't be called up
again in the night by a false alarm of burglars. Besides, it's almost
time for school to begin again, an' I'm 'most too old to commence
chasing monkeys around the country in case he gets out while you're
away."

Had it been suggested the day before that Mr. Stubbs's brother was to be
shut up in a cage, Toby would have thought it a very great hardship for
his pet to endure; but the experience he had had in the last twenty-four
hours convinced him that the imprisonment was for the best.

He helped Uncle Daniel in his labor to such purpose that when it was
time for him to go to the pasture the cage was built, and Mr. Stubbs's
brother was in it, looking as if he considered himself a thoroughly
abused monkey, because he was not allowed to play just such pranks as
had roused the household as well as broken up the circus scheme.

On his way to the pasture Toby met Joe, and the two had a long talk
about the disaster of the afternoon. Joe believed that the enterprise
must be abandoned--for that summer at least--as it would take them some
time to repair the damage done, and his short experience in the business
caused him to believe that they could hardly hope to compete with real
circuses until they had more material with which to work.

Joe promised to see the other partners that evening or the next morning,
and if they were of the same opinion, the tent should be taken down and
returned to its owner.

"Perhaps we can fix it all right next year, an' then Abner will be
'round to help," said Toby, as he parted with Joe that night; and thus
was the circus project ended very sensibly, for the chances were that it
would have been a failure if they had attempted to give their
exhibition.

During that afternoon Toby had worried less about Abner than on any day
since he had been sick. He had felt that his friend's recovery was
certain, and a load was lifted from his shoulders when he and Joe had
decided regarding the circus; for, that out of the way, he could devote
all his attention to his sick friend. Surely, with the ponies and the
monkey they could have a great deal of sport during the two weeks that
yet remained before school would begin, and Toby felt thoroughly happy.

But his happiness was changed to alarm very soon after he entered the
house, for the doctor was there again, and from the look on the faces of
Uncle Daniel and Aunt Olive he knew Abner must be worse.

"What is it, Uncle Dan'l? is Abner any sicker?" he asked, with quivering
lip, as he looked up at the wrinkled face that ever wore a kindly look
for him.

Uncle Daniel laid his hand affectionately on the head of the boy whom he
had cared for with the tenderness of a father since the day he repented
and asked forgiveness for having run away, and his voice trembled as he
said:

"It is very likely that the good God will take the crippled boy to
Himself to-night, Toby, and there in the heavenly mansions will he find
relief from all his pain and infirmities. Then the poor-farm boy will no
longer be an orphan or deformed, but with his Almighty Father will enter
into such joys as we can have no conception of."

"Oh, Uncle Dan'l! must Abner really die?" cried Toby, while the great
tears chased each other down his cheeks, and he hid his face on Uncle
Daniel's knee.

"He will die here, Toby boy, but it is simply an awakening into a
perfect, glorious life, to which I pray that both you and I may be
prepared to go when our Father calls us."

[Illustration: "THE GREAT WHITE-WINGED MESSENGER OF GOD CAME."]

For some time there was silence in the room, broken only by Toby's sobs;
and while Uncle Daniel stroked the weeping boy's head, the great
white-winged messenger of God came into the chamber above, bearing away
with him the spirit of the poor-farm boy.

THE END.

[Illustration]




[Illustration: "WHERE DID YOU COME FROM?"]




MR. THOMPSON AND THE CROWS.

BY ALLAN FORMAN.


"I reckon them plaguey crows are goin' to eat up all the corn," said
'Lisha one morning during a discussion with Mr. Thompson regarding the
weather, the state of the crops, and so forth.

"Hm!" said Mr. Thompson; then paused as if immersed in thought. "Hm!" he
continued; "I have read that in England children are employed to keep
the crows off the corn."

"Reckon corn can't pay a very big profit there, if they have to take the
child's wages out of the price of the crop," commented 'Lisha.

"And it struck me," continued Mr. Thompson, not heeding the
interruption, "that I might sit in the field and read, and at the same
time keep the crows away."

"I s'pose you could, ef you didn't go to sleep," replied 'Lisha, with a
sly laugh.

Mr. Thompson sniffed indignantly, and after a little more talk it was
decided that he should take his book and sit in the corner of the field.
After he had settled himself comfortably, and read several pages, he
began to feel drowsy. His book dropped on his knee, and his thoughts
turned to the crows.

"I wonder what they pull up the corn for?" he murmured. "They don't seem
to eat it."

"'Cause," replied a coarse voice just behind him.

"'Cause why?" inquired Mr. Thompson.

"'Cause we do eat some, and we pull up the rest for fun," replied the
voice.

Mr. Thompson turned to look: there was a big crow sitting on the fence
gazing at him curiously, his black head was cocked on one side, and his
bead-like eyes were full of mischief.

"Don't you know that is very wicked?" said Mr. Thompson, severely.

"Humph!" croaked the crow, contemptuously. "If you was a crow, you'd
feel differently."

"I should always feel like doing right," said Mr. Thompson.

"Try it, and see," croaked the crow.

Mr. Thompson felt himself shrinking, and his black coat was changing to
feathers.

No sooner had the change become complete than he felt an irresistible
desire to pull up a hill of corn. As soon as he had uprooted one, he was
filled with joy and a desire to destroy. He went to work with a will,
and in a few minutes had pulled up quite a number.

"I thought that was very wicked," croaked a hoarse voice, with a tone of
sarcasm.

Mr. Thompson paused a moment. "It is," he admitted. "But," he added, "it
is such fun; and then men shoot us at every possible opportunity. It is
no more than fair that we should get even with them."

"You talk like a sensible crow," said his companion. "But here comes a
man;" and he uttered a derisive "Caw!" as he flew off, followed by Mr.
Thompson.

"Let's go down to the shore," remarked the crow, as they came in sight
of Long Island Sound.

Soon they were on the shore of a little creek that came in from the
Sound. Mr. Thompson and his companion walked along the edge of the
water, when suddenly Mr. Thompson spied a soft crab. He made a quick
snatch for it, and caught it. His companion looked on in disdain.

"Humph!" he said, "who wants a crab? I've got a clam."

"What good is a clam?" retorted Mr. Thompson. "You can't open it."

"Can't I, though?" and the crow took the clam in his beak, flew high
over the stony beach, and dropped it. The shell cracked, and the crow
ate the clam with a relish.

"Look out! here comes a kingbird!"

Suddenly, with an angry cry, a small gray bird swooped down upon them,
and making a vigorous peck at Mr. Thompson's eye, dashed off before he
could retaliate.

"Come on," cried the old crow: "there is no use of sitting still and
getting our eyes picked out."

They flew as rapidly as they could over toward the corn field, the
kingbird following them a part of the way. When they reached the field,
the crow alighted on the head of a stuffed figure which the farmer had
set up for a scarecrow. Mr. Thompson settled on the outstretched arm.

"Yes," said the old crow, as if continuing a previous
conversation--"yes, it amuses me to see the way these farmers think to
frighten us with their stuffed figures. Now anything that is in motion,
like that bunch of feathers over there, really does scare me, for I
never know how far it will swing; but the idea of any intelligent crow
being frightened at this thing--why, it is preposterous. And then the
contemptible way in which they treat us, too--shooting us whenever they
have a chance. Now there comes a crowd up the road in a wagon. They
won't hurt us; they are afraid to shoot when the horses are around.
Hullo! one man is getting out, and, as I live, he has a gun. Let's be
off."

But Mr. Thompson got confused, and instead of flying away, he flapped
heavily toward the corner of the field, and alighted beside his book.
The man with the gun crawled cautiously up to the fence. It was 'Lisha.

"Wa'al, I vow, ef here ain't Mr. Thompson fast asleep!" he muttered.
"I'll give him a scare;" and cocking his gun, he discharged it close to
Mr. Thompson.

Mr. Thompson jumped up, and looked around savagely. "What are you
shooting at?" he demanded, sharply.

"Nothin' in particular," replied 'Lisha, somewhat abashed. "I tried to
shoot a crow, but the pesky thing flew off."

"Of course he did. We saw you get out of the wagon, and he knew you had
come to murder him," said Mr. Thompson, severely.

'Lisha looked at him in surprise. "I reckon you've been asleep," he
ventured. "You cum out to keep the crows off the corn, and when I cum
here, thar was two settin' on the scarecrow."

"Yes," replied Mr. Thompson, calmly, "that was my friend and me;" and he
walked majestically toward the house.

'Lisha looked at him in open-mouthed amazement. "Wa'al, I vow, he _do_
hev the funniest dreams!" he muttered. "But," he added, after a moment's
reflection, "it 'pears to me one of them crows did fly over to this
corner." And 'Lisha shouldered his gun and walked home, speculating upon
the eccentricities of the "city boarder."




SOMETHING ABOUT LIGHTNING.

BY C. J. M.


I wonder how many of the readers of the YOUNG PEOPLE, while watching the
vivid flashes of lightning during a summer-storm, have ever asked the
question, What is lightning? This problem has puzzled many old and wise
heads, and the solution is apparently as far off as ever.

Scientific men are agreed that lightning is electricity, differing in no
wise from that which can be produced by rubbing a piece of amber or by
an electrical machine, except in power; but of what might be called the
inner nature of this electricity they are quite ignorant. They can only
observe and study its effects.

Lightning is divided into two kinds, which you will recognize under the
names of sheet and forked lightning. Sheet lightning is supposed to be
caused by the discharge of electricity over a large space, while forked
lightning consists of a ball of fire rushing with exceeding swiftness
through the air, and very often destroying everything in its way.

The passage of one of these fire-balls is nearly always in a zigzag
line, and so rapidly does it travel that it always presents to the eye
the appearance of an unbroken line. It has not yet been possible to
measure its rate of speed, but it exceeds that of light, which is
185,000 miles in a second. Some of the flashes of lightning have been
estimated at more than ten miles in length, while those from five to
eight miles long are not so uncommon. The brilliancy of some of these
flashes is so great that cases are on record where a flash has rendered
the beholder incurably blind.

The idea that electricity and lightning were one and the same seems to
have been first entertained about the middle of the seventeenth century.
Many experiments were made to establish the relationship, but without
any decisive result, when one of our own countrymen, Benjamin Franklin,
gave a new impulse to the science. After a number of experiments, he was
impressed with the idea that a metal point raised to a great height in
the air would form a conductor for the electricity stored in the
thunder-clouds.

Too impatient to wait for the completion of a church steeple which he
intended to make use of in his investigations, he prepared a kite, using
silk to enable it to withstand rain, and with it made his early
experiments--at first privately, because of the fear that his neighbors
would ridicule an old man's kite-flying. He raised the kite during a
storm, and was delighted to feel, on applying his finger to the string,
a slight spark. For the first time man had succeeded in coaxing the
lightning from the clouds, and playing with it. This occurred in 1752.

Scientific men everywhere now began to devote themselves to the study of
electricity. It was discovered that lightning burns its way, setting
fire even to metals, and melting sand into glass by momentary contact. A
striking illustration of its intense heat are the fulgurites, or curious
glass tubes, produced from sand by lightning as follows: In certain
places, where the ground is formed of a particular kind of sand, and
lightning enters it from a cloud, the expansion of the air, as the
electricity rushes through, forces it back in all directions, and the
heat melts it into glass at the same time. These tubes have a diameter
of one or two inches, and ordinarily a length of two or three feet. The
interior surface is glazed, while the outside is formed of sand. Many
have been taken out of the ground entire, and placed in museums as
curiosities. It is said that fulgurites twenty to thirty feet in length
have been discovered.

The experiments of the men to whom we are indebted for our knowledge of
these marvels of nature are not always unattended with danger. In 1753,
Richman, a member of the St. Petersburg Academy of Sciences, had an iron
rod for the attraction of electricity erected on his house and continued
down into his study, in order to be better able to observe its effects.
During a violent storm he was working at some distance from the
conductor in order to be out of the way of the large sparks. He at last
incautiously approached too near, when a globe of bluish fire struck him
on the forehead, killing him instantly.

The following incident illustrates the danger of being in a direct line
with any article of iron during a storm. A number of people were
assembled in one room of a house, conversing and watching the play of
the lightning, when one of their number was struck and instantly killed
by a flash that came from overhead. The death of this one man and the
escape of all the rest were at first regarded as one of the freaks of
which lightning is frequently guilty, but a close search revealed the
fact that the accident was strictly in accordance with natural laws. It
was found that in the room above, there hung a saw, one end of it nearly
touching the floor directly over the man's head, while in the cellar
below were a number of iron tools, among them a crowbar standing in such
a position that the upper end of it was directly beneath his feet. His
body had therefore only been a connecting link in the chain along which
the lightning had travelled.

Another incident, but of a less tragic character, is the following.
During a violent thunder-storm lightning struck a farm-house; a ball of
fire descended through the chimney, and rolled across the floor of a
room in which three women and a child were sitting without injuring
them. It then rolled out through the kitchen, passing close to the feet
of a young man, and passed out through a crevice in the wall. It next
appeared in the pig-sty, and killed the pig without burning the straw on
which it lay.

In olden times, before the study of the natural sciences was undertaken,
every occurrence out of the common was thought to be an act of Divine
power. Even in our days this idea has not entirely died out, and in
those countries where people are ignorant lightning is still regarded as
a mark of God's anger and a visitation sent for the punishment of sin.
But with the spread of scientific knowledge it has been robbed of its
terrors, and in the lightning-rod a means has been given us of
attracting and controlling the electric current, and thus protecting
ourselves from harm.




[Illustration: POOR OLD DOBBIN!]




JUBE'S WATER-MELON.

BY WADE WHIPPLE.


It was one of the happiest moments of Jube Rosewood's life when, as he
was passing Farmer Tappan's melon patch one day, the owner hailed him,
and exclaimed:

"Jube, I promised you a reward for driving old Brindle home the other
morning, and now if you will jump over that fence and take your pick of
those water-melons, you can tote it along home with you."

Jube was one of the blackest little fellows that had ever basked in the
sunlight of a Georgia plantation, but his eyes and teeth flashed out
such a gleam of joy at this golden promise that his swarthy face seemed
like a dark lantern with the slide suddenly turned as he made the
delighted response:

"Mars' Tappan, you's fetched me right whar I's lierble ter feel mo'
bleedzd to yer dan ef yo'd sot me down in a merlasses bar'l. I'll be dar
'fo' yo' min' gits a chance ter drif out o' dat rut." With this Jube
bounded over the old rail fence, and in a moment was at Farmer Tappan's
side, gazing critically and with some little wonderment at the streaked
delicacies rounding out here and there from their lowly canopies of
green.

So eager was the happy boy to show his appreciation of the situation,
and of the possibility of the farmer's regretting his generosity, that
he sprang toward the first plump specimen of the oblong fruit which he
saw, and tapping its dainty shell, exclaimed:

"I reckon dis'n's 'bout my meshur, an' ef yo' sez de word, I'll onhitch
de goodie, an' 'scort it down to der Rosewood shanty wid yo'
compelments."

"All right, Jube," returned the farmer; "take it along if you can carry
it. The fruit isn't any bigger than the thanks I owe you, but I'm afraid
it _is_ a size or two beyond your strength to carry."

"Don't let dat onsettle yo', Mars' Tappan," said Jube, as he got down on
his "hunkies" to pick his prize package. "Dis chile's 'fection fo' dis
wegetable am strong 'nuff ter gar'nty dat it won' get outer reach atter
der grip's been tuk on it, an' dat yo' kin 'pen' on." With this remark
Jube broke the stem, and thrusting his arms under the curving ends of
his game, staggeringly lifted it from the ground.

Now Jube had a little brother at home who was every bit as big as that
water-melon, and because he had carried _him_ about very often in mere
play, he thought there would not be any trouble about managing this
inoffensive specimen of garden truck. Jube forgot, however, that the
water-melon didn't have any arms to catch hold with, and no wrinkly
trousers to catch hold of, and besides it was smooth and bunchy, and
would spoil a good deal easier if it should happen to drop. He had no
more than tottered through the rails that Farmer Tappan had let down for
him than he began to feel as if he had a baby elephant in his arms, and
before he had struggled a hundred feet down the road, he imagined the
elephant had grown big enough to be its own grandfather.

"I 'clar' ter sakes!" he exclaimed, as, turning a bend in the highway,
he was enabled unseen by the farmer to put his burden in keeping of a
moss bank for a while--"I 'clar' ter sakes ef dat ar' 'freshment don'
'pear ter be stuff' wid cookin'-stoves. 'Pears like ef a man wuz lookin'
fo' sumfin dat wuz easy ter drop, dis yarb'd come closer ter de mark dan
a bees' nes'." Then, apparently addressing the melon, he continued: "But
yo'm gotter come 'long wid me. I sot out ter see yer hum, an' dar's whar
yo'm gonter lan' up, 'less yo' grows till yo's de size ob a fo'-hoss
wagon."

Hereupon, Jube bent down to gather up his burden again, and after
bracing himself as if he was going to pull up a tree by the roots, and
gritting his teeth in a way that might have frightened a smaller melon,
he began to joggle himself along his journey once more. He had fixed his
trophy in such a way that his chest was made to form part of the
support, and with arms beneath for a prop, he bobbed along with his head
thrown away back to the rear of the procession, and his waist poked far
enough out in front to give the idea that he was sending it on ahead to
let the folks know he was coming. It was jostle and sway, and tug and
stagger, every inch of the way, and I am not sure but it would have
suggested to you a lone tumble-bug working his dirt-ball along a dusty
highway.

Coming to the top of a hill, the overburdened boy was obliged to rest
again, and depositing his responsibility upon a convenient brush heap,
he straightened out the kinks in his back, brushed the perspiration from
his brow with his shirt sleeve, and taking a long breath, again
addressed the unconscious water-melon.

"Well, dar! ef yo' hain't been swallyin' a stun fence, den my gumpshun's
slip out froo a crack somewhars sho 'nuff. Whatsumever's inside dat ar'
speckle hide o' yo'n dis chile dunno, but ef yo'm as wuff eatin' as yo'm
heaby totin', dar's mo' sweetmeats waitin' fo' der fam'ly whar I's gwine
ter interduce ye dan dey's had in a mont' er Sund'ys."

Here Jube took another survey of the situation, and as his eye followed
the range of the rather steep roadway, and rested on a whitewashed cabin
at its foot, a look of pleasure and confidence spread over his face as
he said:

"Dar's mammy's cabin, sartin. An' dar's whar dis yar water-million's
gwinter fotch up; an' ef dar's any mo' easier way o' gettin' it dar dan
losin' it, Jube hain't one o' der Rosewoods dat's 'quainted wid der
fac'."

It was but the work of a moment for Jube to get the melon to the brow of
the hill, and, poising it there, he gave it a rather smart push with his
foot, and away it went down the steep. At the start, the wobbly,
end-to-end movement by which it progressed indicated a rather tardy
arrival at the Rosewood estate, but rounding the first knoll, and
getting the sudden impetus of its dip, the enterprise of that fruit was
so remarkable that Jube, with his legs going like a pair of drumsticks,
could hardly keep up with it. Another bulge in the roadway jumped, and a
livelier pace was imparted to the melon, and, panting like a winded
hound, Jube threw out his half-shod feet with frantic energy, shouting
all the time:

"Hol' on dar! Hol' on dar! Yo'll lan' in de stun fence sho', an' squash
all yo' nat'al senses!"

Alas that the water-melon didn't take warning! As it reached the foot of
the hill, and passed the Rosewood cabin, where Jube's brothers and
sisters were wonderingly watching the chase, the boy's foot slipped on a
cobble-stone, and as the melon rolled into a little gulley, head-first
into its bulging surface landed the unfortunate Jube.

Was he hurt? Bless you, no. He was a little staggered, perhaps, but as
between him and the water-melon, had you been there to have witnessed
the result, you would surely have given your every ounce of sympathy to
the melon. It was turned completely inside out, and spread over the
grass-plot in every direction. Wasn't there a scene when Jube got
himself to rights, shook the melon pits out of his hair, and shouted:

"Hey! Heyo! Clem! Cuffle! Mimy! Zekal! Pheby! Shuffle ober here libely
an' he'p me sop up dese 'freshments. Dey's goin' to waste."

Almost in the wink of an eye about a dozen dusky youngsters were
assembled at the scene of the wreck, and as they distributed themselves
about the remains, and began a-feasting, the looks that gleamed from the
eyes bulging over the green rims of an array of fruit fragments told how
thoroughly they appreciated the inquest of Jube's water-melon.

[Illustration: JUBE'S WATER-MELON.]




[Illustration: OUR POST-OFFICE BOX.]


A dear little girl writes the Postmistress that she is very much
frightened whenever there is a thunder-shower. The sharp flashes of
lightning and the loud claps of thunder terrify her, and she always runs
and hides in her mamma's lap.

Well, darling Effie, you could not find a better place to hide. But I
want you to remember that the beautiful summer showers do a great deal
of good. Have you ever noticed how pure and sweet the air is after the
storm is over, and do you not love to watch the rainbow when its arch is
in the sky?

Once, dear, a long while ago, when I was a little girl, a very heavy
thunder-storm came up in the afternoon. It grew so dark that in the
school-room, where we girls were gathered for our lessons, we could not
see each other's faces. We put away our books, and our kind teacher told
us a story to divert our minds. By-and-by, when the sun shone, and the
sky looked blue, and the rain-drops glittered on the bushes and the long
blades of grass, we sang a beautiful German choral, and I have never
forgotten the opening words:

  "It thunders, but I tremble not,
    My trust is firm in God;
  His arm of strength I ever sought
    Through all the way I've trod."

       *       *       *       *       *

  GALVESTON, TEXAS.

     Galveston is on the sea-coast, and has a splendid beach. There is a
     beautiful pavilion on it, and a great many bathing-houses. I have
     been bathing twice this summer, and it is perfectly delightful.
     Several nights in the week they have music, and sky-rockets are
     shot off. The beach is a great place for driving. Every evening
     carriages and vehicles of every description are passing up and
     down. The last time I was there a buggy ran over a little boy, and
     he was badly hurt.

  ETHEL T. S.

       *       *       *       *       *

  NEW YORK CITY.

     I am a little St. Louis girl, but am now living in New York.

     I am ten years of age, and have taken music lessons three years,
     and like music very much.

     I have a pet bird named Jimmie; he will eat out of my hand, and is
     very tame.

     My little brother Edgar is five years old, and mamma has just put
     his first pants on him, and he looks so cunning marching round with
     his hands in his pocket, and thinks he is quite a man. I almost
     envy the little boys and girls who have nice gardens. I have one,
     but it is a funny one; it is in a window, for we have no yard. We
     live in a flat, but I am very fond of flowers, and so keep them in
     a window. Some of your little readers may laugh at this, but it is
     the best I can have, and it affords me a great deal of pleasure.

     Mamma was reading in No. 138 a letter signed "C. Harold C.," from
     Mount Vernon, New York, of a little boy who could not pronounce
     _F_. If _his_ mamma will take him to a physician and have his
     tongue examined, she may find that he is _tongue-tied_, although
     you would hardly believe it. But my little brother was troubled the
     same way; he would say _sishes_ for fishes, _shogs_ for frogs, etc,
     etc. The doctor said he was tongue-tied and cut his tongue, and in
     a few minutes he said _fishes_ as plain as any one. Mamma used to
     try and make him say words with _F_ in in this way: she would say,
     "Edgar, say _F_." He would pronounce _F_ very distinctly. Now mamma
     would say, "Say _fishes_." But he could not. So one day _he_ says
     to mamma, "Mamma, say _F_; now say mustard."

  ROBIN D.

The little boy who can not pronounce "f" may be tongue-tied, and then
again he may not be. I knew a little girl once who spoke so very
peculiarly until she was ten years old that people wondered what queer
foreign language Minnie used. But all at once she began to talk plainly,
as she has done ever since without the help of a physician.

       *       *       *       *       *

  MONTREAL, CANADA.

     I wrote you a letter some time ago, and asked you to print it; but
     you did not, and you don't know how sorry I felt. I do hope you
     will print this. I am ten years of age. I have two dear little
     brothers, one named Mello and the other Garibaldi, and a sweet
     little sister named Minnie; they all like YOUNG PEOPLE very much,
     especially little Mello, who delights to sit for hours looking at
     the pictures. I have two dear little pet squirrels, which we caught
     on the mountain in little traps. We put a small piece of apple in
     the trap, and set it on the fence that runs up the side of the
     mountain, and it is great fun to watch them go in the traps. We
     have caught more than a dozen that way. I have been to New York two
     or three times, and to Philadelphia to see the Centennial
     Exhibition. Did you go to it? and if so, don't you think it was
     splendid? I go to school, and like it very much. I got the prize
     for Grecian history this year. Don't you think that was very well
     for a little girl only ten? I am going away next week to visit a
     dear little girl named Dagmar, but I am only to stay about two
     weeks, and when I return I hope to see my letter in YOUNG PEOPLE. I
     think "Toby Tyler" is splendid, but I like Jimmy Brown's letters
     best.

  MAY R.

Of course, dear May, you set the little squirrels free soon after
catching them. Although they are very cunning pets, I can not help
feeling sorry for them when shut up in cages, for they so dearly love
their liberty, and are so merry when leaping from bough to bough in the
woods.

       *       *       *       *       *

The cunning little letter which follows was the first effort of a wee
bit of a girlie whose papa had gone from home on a visit:

  BIGELOW PLACE, CINCINNATI, OHIO.

     DEAR PAPA,--I miss you _so_ much! We are going to have a
     water-melon for dinner to-day. I love water-melons. But I love you
     the best. We had a nawful storm yesterday, and it blew the roof off
     a house on Walker Street. I guess the people got wet. My neck is
     tired bending over. I wish you many happy returns.

  Your little baby LULA.

       *       *       *       *       *

Here is another bright little letter from a wee girlie to her papa:

  Bridgehamton, Long Island.

     DEAR PAPA,--I hope you will come this afternoon, and bring me
     home--come after two o'clock; I will be all ready. I want to know
     how many tricks you have taught Gip [Scotch terrier]? How large is
     Gip? How are my kittens? I don't know whether they are dead; are
     they? Are they fed? How is Tom [cat]? Please bring the puppy with
     you when you come down, but don't fill his stomach with meat--'tis
     too indigestible. I helped to hunt the eggs yesterday, and we got
     over a hundred. Papa, I have a great many little mats, pretty as
     silk, made out of thistles flattened out, and they are the
     prettiest little thistles you ever did see, but they were the
     coarsest little thistles when Mary [nurse] picked them, just like
     "needles and pins." There are some little pet birds here, but we
     don't have to feed them. We can't bring them home; we will have to
     leave them here. This is the last of my letter; I can't write any
     more. Do you want to know why? The flies are bothering me so.

  LISA D.

       *       *       *       *       *

  UTICA, NEW YORK.

     I am nine years old to-day. I received as a present a card album
     that will hold 700 cards. We have a large yard, and in it a large
     tent. I had a birthday party last year, and we had a supper in the
     tent, at which fifty sat down at one time. I like "Mr. Stubbs's
     Brother," and am so glad Abner did not die.

  ARTHUR E. J.

       *       *       *       *       *

  BRADFORD, NEW HAMPSHIRE.

     DEAR POSTMISTRESS,--I am a little girl of eleven, living in
     Massasechem Valley beside a beautiful lake, which affords great
     pleasure to many. I have three sisters and one brother. We have
     twelve English Jacobin doves, a little shepherd dog, a lamb, and a
     kitty for pets. I have taken HARPER'S YOUNG PEOPLE ever since it
     was first published, and I enjoy the stories very much. I think
     Ninetta's poem was real nice. She is just the age of my sister Ida.
     I think Toby Tyler has a hard time losing his pets. He must feel
     very sad and lonesome now Mr. Stubbs's brother is gone, but I hope
     he will recover him soon.

  MARIAN F. D.

       *       *       *       *       *

  THYATIRA, MISSISSIPPI.

     I have written two letters to Our Post-office Box which have not
     been published; however, I will try again. I have been taking YOUNG
     PEOPLE for nearly two years. I like all the stories, but "Toby
     Tyler" and "Mr. Stubbs's Brother" are the best of all. I am a
     little boy ten years old. I work on the farm, but have just
     finished, and began to go to school last Monday. I have no pets
     except one sweet little sister; her name is Lucy, and she is just
     the sweetest child in the world. She is fourteen months old, can
     walk and talk some, and says, "Just lookie dar," and "Who is dat?"

  JACK C.

       *       *       *       *       *

  SALEM, OREGON.

     I am a little girl twelve years old. I live with my papa and mamma
     on a large farm. I have three little sisters and one brother. I
     have been taking HARPER'S YOUNG PEOPLE for almost a year now, and
     like it very much. I have not very many pets. I have a horse, a
     little colt, and a cow with a calf. Mamma has two little Maltese
     kittens, and they are very pretty. We spent one winter out in
     Southern Oregon, where my papa owns a gold mine. It was very
     lonesome there, as there were very few neighbors. My two sisters
     and I go to school. The school-house is almost a mile from home. My
     youngest sister is the baby; she is thirteen months old, but she
     can not walk yet.

  DEADIE A.

       *       *       *       *       *

  SUMMIT, NEW JERSEY.

     I am a little boy eleven years and a half old. I have been taking
     YOUNG PEOPLE since October, 1881, and like it very much. I have a
     sister and brother, each younger than I, and we have three birds'
     nests in our yard, and each one of the birds has four little ones.
     We fed them when they were little, but the mother did not like it,
     and one rainy day she threw one of them out of the nest, and we put
     it back again, and she kept it, and we never fed the birds again. I
     like "Talking Leaves" and Jimmy Brown's stories best, and I hope
     Jimmy Brown will write some more soon.

  R. M. G.

What a naughty mother-bird! But maybe she knew better than you did what
was good for her children. I think the little birdie must have fallen
out by accident.

       *       *       *       *       *

  LANSING, MICHIGAN.

     The schools in our city have closed, and I am so glad, for we are
     going away to spend vacation. We are going to a pleasant resort
     called Harbor Point, on Lake Michigan, in the northern part of the
     State. We have a cottage there, and have delightful times boating
     and bathing in the surf. Does the Postmistress like the stories of
     Charles Dickens, and if so, which is her favorite one? Here are two
     verses I made up to-day:

  Only a silver spoon,
    Thin and battered and old,
  Yet he thought he'd keep it for ever and e'er,
    For ever and e'er to hold.

  "Oh, take it not," said the maiden--
    "Oh, take it not away,"
  But the tramp put it in his pocket.
    And went upon his way.

  CHUB.

Yes, dear, I am very fond of all Charles Dickens's stories, and my
favorite one is, I think, _Our Mutual Friend_. Yet I am not sure, for I
like _The Tale of Two Cities_ very much, and I am about to read _Bleak
House_ for the fifth or sixth time. The little maiden in your verses
should have taken better care of her spoon.

       *       *       *       *       *

  WARETOWN, NEW JERSEY.

     I am eight years old. I live in the country. I have a little
     brother Fred, and a little baby sister Alice. We had for a pet a
     shepherd dog named Colonel, but he ran away. I took YOUNG PEOPLE
     last year, and Fred takes it this. I like "The Cruise of the
     'Ghost'" best. Grandpa gave Fred and me a nice fishing-pole, and
     takes us fishing, and sometimes we catch lots of fish. I have been
     to school part of a term; it is vacation now. I wrote this myself.
     I like to read the letters from the little girls and boys.

  RALPH H. C.

       *       *       *       *       *

  CARROLLTON, MISSOURI.

     My papa gave me YOUNG PEOPLE for a Christmas present; I like it
     very much. I am ten years old. I have twenty-five dolls; my largest
     is a wax doll thirty inches long. I have a play-house, a set of
     furniture, a set of dishes, a little trunk, and a real little cook
     stove that I can cook on. We have a swing and a hammock. I have a
     dear papa and mamma, but no brother or sister. We have a
     canary-bird. I wish the Postmistress would tell Jimmy Brown to
     write some more.

  EDITH C.

Twenty-five dolls! Dear me! what a large family! Don't you sometimes
feel like the little old woman who lived in her shoe, and had so many
children she did not know what to do? _She_ gave them some broth,
without any bread, and whipped them all round, poor things! and sent
them to bed. You, I am sure, are not so unkind to your dollies as the
poor bothered old lady of the shoe.

       *       *       *       *       *

  BROOKLYN, NEW YORK.

     I am going to tell you about my pets. I have a terrier named Jack.
     I like him very much. If I throw a stick, he will run and bring it
     to me. I have seven land turtles and two water turtles. There is
     one big turtle which I call grandfather of them all. I am very fond
     of them. I sunk half of a barrel in the ground, and I keep it
     filled with water for them to drink and swim in. They are all the
     time digging in the ground. I have fifty pigeons of all colors, and
     I have ten young ones. I like to watch the old ones feed their
     young; they are so cunning about it. We have a big old cat named
     Tom, and two canary-birds; so you see I have plenty of pets. My
     sister took me over to New York to see your big building, and to
     buy the story of "Toby Tyler." I have been taking YOUNG PEOPLE two
     years, and think it is splendid. I think "Mr. Stubbs's Brother" is
     very nice, and I hope when it is ended that you will publish it as
     you did "Toby Tyler." If you do so, my mother intends to give me
     money to buy it. I think I will close my letter with my best thanks
     to you and Mr. Otis for writing such nice stories.

  JESSE W. P.

       *       *       *       *       *

  They built a fort upon the shore,
    With merry heedless din.
  They never spied the evening tide
    Was rolling, rolling in.

  They made it firm and fast without,
    They made it firm within.
  But evermore along the shore
    The tide was rolling in.

  Without a fear they slept that night,
    But when they went next day,
  They found no sign, no stone, no line--
    The fort was washed away.

  'Tis ever so, my little men; you'll find it, one and all,
  That forts, not only those of sand, are very apt to fall.
  But if they fall, why, let them fall; away with doubt and dread,
  And build again with might and main a better fort instead.

       *       *       *       *       *

  SANBORNTON, NEW HAMPSHIRE.

     MY DEAR POSTMISTRESS,--I was so glad to see your kind answer to my
     letter in the C. Y. P. R. U. Perhaps you don't remember me, but I
     am the girl who was reading so many exciting novels, and you kindly
     suggested more solid and less exciting reading. Mamma said the same
     things you did, and disliked to have me read so many love stories,
     but I was so fond of them. Now I am not reading any of them. The
     only novel I have read for ever so long is one, by Auerbach, called
     _Edelweiss_, and it is a lovely book, I think, and so does mamma,
     but really I don't care so much about reading when here in the
     country as I did in Worcester, for there are so many other things
     to take my attention.

     We are at the old homestead, where papa used to live when he was a
     little boy, and there are such lovely walks and drives all about
     here. A few days ago I ascended my first mountain. Papa and I drove
     to the first pair of "bars" on the mountain-road, and tied the
     horse there, and then we climbed the mountain (Mount Atkinson). It
     was a long hard climb, but the view when we reached the top paid
     for all our trouble. We could see blue Lake Winnipiseogee in the
     distance, and on our left was Mount Lafayette, with little Victory
     Mountain, close beside it. Further east was Chicorowa,
     Passaconoway, off in the east the Unconoonocks, and then came
     Monadnock, and even our Worcester mountain, Wachusett, besides a
     great many others whose names I can not remember.

     After we had staid on the summit some time enjoying the beautiful
     view, we came down, found Leonard (the horse), and drove home. It
     was a beautiful ride, and we appreciated it after our toil. This
     afternoon I shall take Leonard, and drive over to the post-office,
     about two miles away. When it is too warm to walk or ride, I lie in
     the hammock and read. Isn't Butcher and Lang's translation of the
     Odyssey beautiful? But I must close this long letter.

     We children have our dear YOUNG PEOPLE forwarded to us here, and we
     enjoy it so much.

     I was very much interested in the beautiful picture and interesting
     account of St. Elizabeth in the last YOUNG PEOPLE. I had heard the
     legend of St. Elizabeth and the Roses before, and think it is a
     charming story. I never saw a paper with such beautiful pictures in
     it as HARPER'S YOUNG PEOPLE has; and I especially like W. A.
     Rogers's pictures, because he illustrated dear "Toby Tyler." But,
     dear Postmistress, I _must_ stop, and I really think I like oth er
     things besides novels a great deal better than I used to.

  OLIVE R.

It is very pleasant, indeed, to receive such a letter as this, and to
find that one's advice has been so willingly taken. You were well
repaid, dear, for your trouble in climbing the mountain. Yes, you may
send your exchange again.

       *       *       *       *       *

N. R. AND L. D. M.--When you and your friend are walking together, it is
polite for both to lift your hats to a lady with whom only one is
acquainted. If you meet a lady with whom you are only slightly
acquainted, you should wait for her to bow first. In performing an
introduction, name the lady first, in this way. "Miss ----, may I
present Mr. ----?"

As for the causes of the war between Egypt and England, it would take a
far more learned personage than the Postmistress to make it plain to
you. The principal cause seems to be that through the Suez Canal lies
the highway to England's immense possessions in India, and England can
not afford to let Egypt shut up or barricade this path. You and other
young gentlemen who are interested in this war should read the daily and
weekly newspapers carefully, and listen to the conversation of
intelligent men who have studied the question.

It would be well now that all eyes are turned to the East, that you
should read some volume on Egypt. _The Khedive's Egypt_, published by
Messrs. Harper & Brothers, will give you a great deal of interesting
information about Egypt as it is to-day.

       *       *       *       *       *

C. Y. P. R. U.

Some merry young people in Cohasset, Massachusetts, amused themselves
the other day by making a list of comparisons in common use. The result
of their efforts was sent to the Postmistress, and she thinks perhaps
some others among her boys and girls will try their hands at the same
game of words:

     Blunt as a broomstick, black as pitch, black as night, black as
     jet, black as a sloe, black as ink, black as ebony, black as a
     crow, brown as a berry, brown as a bun, bright as a button, bright
     as a new dollar, busy as a bee, brisk as a bee, brisk as a lark,
     brittle as glass, big as an elephant, big as saucers, big as
     canal-boats, blind as a bat, bitter as gall, bitter as worm-wood,
     busy as a beaver, bold as brass, bald as an egg, blind as a mole,
     blue as indigo, cool as a cucumber, cold as a stone, cold as
     charity, clear as glass, clear as crystal, clear as mud, common as
     dirt, cold as Greenland, cold as ice, crooked as a ram's-horn,
     crooked as a rainbow, clumsy as a cow, cunning as a fox, cross as a
     weasel, cross as a bear, cross as fiddle-sticks, cross as two
     sticks, cold as a frog, crazy as a loon, clean as a whistle, dead
     as Chelsea, dead as a door-nail, dusty as a miller, deep as a well,
     dark as Egypt, dark as a pocket, dry as a bone, dull as lead, dull
     as ditch-water, dull as dish-water, deaf as a post, deaf as an
     adder, dumb as a fish, early as the lark, easy as jumping over a
     log, easy as kissing your hand, flat as a flounder, flat as a
     pancake, fresh as a daisy, fine as a hair, fine as a fiddle,
     faithless as a monkey, fat as a seal, fat as butter, fierce as a
     lion, gray as glass, gray as a badger, good as pie, green as grass,
     good as gold, greedy as a pig, gentle as a lamb, hot as fire, hot
     as blazes, hot as fury, hot as Tophet, handy as a pocket in a
     shirt, hoary as Time, hard as flint, hungry as a wolf, hungry as a
     hunter, hungry as a hawk, hungry as a bear, hard as a rock, hard as
     a brickbat, happy as a king, high as a kite, homely as a crow,
     happy as a clam at high water, happy as a big sunflower, heavy as
     lead, lean as a hen's forehead, light as a fairy, light as
     thistle-down, light as a feather, long-waisted as a snake, limp as
     a rag, merry as a grig, merry as a thrush, merry as a
     marriage-bell, mad as a hatter, mad as a March hare, mischievous as
     a monkey, meek as Moses, neat as wax, neat as a pin, old as the
     hills, obstinate as a mule, proud as a peacock, proud as Lucifer,
     poor as poverty, poor as a church-mouse, plain as print, pretty as
     a pink, pretty as a picture, plain as daylight, playful as a
     kitten, poor as a crow, patient as Job, quick as a wink, quick as a
     flash, quick as lightning, right as a trivet, red as a lobster, red
     as a beet, red as a rose, rich as a Jew, sick as a pussy cat, slow
     as cold molasses, slow as a snail, short as pie-crust, straight as
     an arrow, stiff as a ram-rod, stiff as a poker, still as a mouse,
     soft as dough, swift as the wind, spry as a grasshopper, shifting
     as sand, scarce as chickens' teeth, smart as a steel-trap, sure as
     fate, sour as vinegar, sour as a plum, shy as a rabbit, strong as a
     horse, sticky as molasses, spotted as a leopard, simple as A, B, C,
     sweet as honey, sweet as sugar, stupid as an owl, soft as silk,
     sound as a nut, smooth as velvet, sharp as a razor, strong as
     Samson, smooth as glass, slippery as an eel, swift as thought,
     sharp-eyed as a lynx, thin as vanity, thin as gauze, thin as a
     rail, tight as a drum, tall as a steeple, tall as a bean-pole, true
     as steel, tired as a dog, tipsy as a lord, thirsty as a fish, tough
     as leather, tough as a boiled owl, thick as spatter, thick as
     blackberries, wet as sop, white as a sheet, white as snow, white as
     milk, warm as toast.

       *       *       *       *       *

J. A.--The stamps you mention are not duplicates.

       *       *       *       *       *

TOMMY P. S.--You could not do a better thing than to learn to write
short-hand. I hope you will make a very good reporter for the press. You
are beginning early to be a journalist, helping your father on his
paper. Does your pet bird know you when you go home on Saturday night?

       *       *       *       *       *

ALLEN L.--A boy who is not strong enough to work out-of-doors should
find some pleasant occupation which he can practice in the house. Have
you a scroll-saw and a few designs? If so, you may make pretty boxes,
book-racks, frames, and easels, for which you will find a sale among
your friends. Or, if you can obtain a small printing-press, you may earn
some money by printing visiting-cards, circulars, and invitations for
your acquaintances. Perhaps, though an invalid, you are well enough to
help along a little in the house, where there is a great deal to do, and
where the mother and sisters are sometimes very tired. In the times of
canning fruit, of pickling and preserving, a clever and quick-witted boy
can render very welcome service. This kind of work ought to be paid for
as liberally as the hoeing and weeding by which your active and healthy
brothers are able to obtain their spending-money.

       *       *       *       *       *

EVA W. AND BESSIE MCC.--Thank you, dears, for the programme of your
little entertainment. You displayed a great deal of ingenuity in
arranging it.

       *       *       *       *       *

We would call the attention of the C. Y. P. R. U. this week to Mrs. John
Lillie's entertaining article on the great musical composer Christoph
Willibald, Ritter von Gluck, and to "Something about Lightning," by Mr.
C. J. Muller. The very little folk will be interested in the wonderful
German baby with such a long list of names, and so many royal relatives
to love him and teach him how to fill nobly the great station to which
he is born.

       *       *       *       *       *

PUZZLES FROM YOUNG CONTRIBUTORS.

No. 1.

TWO ANAGRAMS.

1. On a car I vote.

  V.

2. Dream of wit dear.

  SUKEY.

       *       *       *       *       *

No. 2.

TRANSPOSITION.

  Transpose a water-way of which much is told,
  And find a famous Grecian god of old.

  EUREKA.

       *       *       *       *       *

No. 3.

DOUBLE ACROSTIC.

  A beautiful Princess of gracious mien,
  Who by a brave crusading Prince was seen--
  And loved and wooed and won. The gentle wife,
  In fond devotion, saved her husband's life.
  Th' initial letters will disclose her name;
  The final word, the kingdom whence she came.

       *       *       *       *       *

No. 4.

TWO NUMERICAL ENIGMAS.

1.

  I am composed of 14 letters. I disgraced myself, and my name is in
      American history.
  My 3, 4, 5 is a boy's nickname.
  My 5, 12, 11, 4 means finished.
  My 1, 9, 10, 14 is a poet.
  My 6 is an important letter of the alphabet.
  My 2, 13, 4, 7, 8 is to choose.

  GERTRUDE W.

2.

  I am composed of 24 letters, and my whole would make almost any one
      happy.
  My 4, 12, 18, 4, 9, 20, 3 is a river in South America.
  My 17, 16, 23, 6, 12 is a city in Asia.
  My 24, 5, 1, 8, 4 is a girl's name.
  My 7, 2, 13, 10, 21 is something children like.
  My 22, 11, 14 is a boy's nickname.
  My 15, 16, 23, 16, 9 is a delicious beverage.
  My 7, 19, 5 is a favorite name.

  ELVIRA R. U.

       *       *       *       *       *

No. 5.

THREE DIAMONDS.

1.--1. A letter. 2. Part of the foot. 3. Circular. 4. Finis. 5. In doll.

  EUREKA.

(_To Douglas._)

2.--1. A consonant. 2. A line. 3. A bird. 4. A receptacle. 5. A
consonant.

(_To North Star._)

3.--1. A consonant. 2. Past tense of fourth word in this diamond. 3. A
great power. 4. A means of sustaining life. 5. A consonant.

  NUNKY.

       *       *       *       *       *

ANSWERS TO PUZZLES IN No. 143

No. 1.

  A G N E S
    O I L E R
      P L A I D
        A R S O N
          S E N O R

No. 2.

  J    am    B
  I  mprope  R
  M ezzotint O
  M   ello   W
  Y   eoma   N

No, 3.

Synagogue. Elizabeth. America.

       *       *       *       *       *

Correct answers to puzzles have been received from Beryl Abbott, "Sam
Weller, Jun.," "Eureka," Addie Goodnow, M. Goodnow, P. Embury, Henry W.
Nichols, Florence P. Jones, Sherman Hait, F. Edwin Harris, Frank Lomas,
Arthur Valhalla, Maude A., Lillie Meyer, Elizabeth, Martha, Elsie M. K.,
Jessie Oppenheimer, Max Wintner, Charley Case, Maggie Holmes, "Fuss and
Feathers," "Fern," Emily Atkinson, Gertrude W., Edgar Seeman, M. L.,
Albert L. Taylor, Laura B. Gretchen, and Eddie S. Hequembourg.

       *       *       *       *       *

[_For Exchanges, see 2d and 3d pages of cover._]




[Illustration]


  Here comes a poor woman from baby-land,
  With five small children on her hand;
  One can brew, the other can bake,
  The other can make a pretty round cake;
  One can sit in the garden and spin,
  Another can make a fine bed for the king.
  Pray, ma'am, will you take one in?

  --_From Mother Goose's Melodies_.

       *       *       *       *       *

NINE HOLES, OR EGG-HAT.

Near a wall where the ground is level dig nine or a less number of
holes, according to the number of players, large enough for a ball to be
bowled in without difficulty. Number them, and let each player be
allotted a number, by chance or choice as it may be agreed. A line is
drawn about five yards from the holes, at which one of the players
places himself, and bowls the ball into one of the holes. The player to
whom the hole into which the ball is bowled belongs picks it up as
quickly as he can, and endeavors to strike one of the others with it
(the latter will run off as soon as they perceive that the ball is not
for themselves); if the thrower miss his aim, he loses a point, and is
called "a fiver," and it is his turn to bowl; if, however, he strike
another, he loses nothing; but the party so struck, in case he fail to
hit another with the ball, becomes "a fiver," and it is his turn to
bowl. Five or six may be struck in succession, and the ball may be kept
up, no matter how long, until a miss be made, when the party so missing
loses a point and bowls. It is also allowed for one player to accept the
ball from another, and run the risk of striking a third; thus, if A
stand close behind B, and C have the ball in front of B, A may signify
by motions that he will take the ball, which is then thrown toward him
by C; he catches it, and endeavors to strike B before he can run away;
if he miss, he loses a point, and bowls. The second bowling is conducted
precisely as the first; but he who bowls three times without passing the
ball into a hole loses a point, and if he have lost one before, becomes
"a tenner"; he must still go on, until he succeeds in putting the ball
into a hole; it is his own fault if he bowls into that which belongs to
himself. A party who misses his aim a second time becomes a "tenner," he
who loses a third point "a fifteener," and when four points are lost,
the party stands out. The game goes on until all the players are out but
one; the latter wins the game.

This game is sometimes called "Egg-Hat," on account of the players using
their caps instead of digging holes; the ball, in this case, is tossed
into the caps instead of being bowled into the holes.

       *       *       *       *       *

A SNAKE STORY.

Once in my home in Ceylon, when I was a little girl, we discovered a
large snake coiled up in a corner of the chimney. It was during the
rains, and the creature had come inside for warmth.

Well, there was a general stampede out of the room of ayahs and
children, and the men-servants were summoned to dispatch the bold
intruder. The snake was about seven feet long, and three or four inches
in diameter at the thickest part of its body. It was yellow in color,
like the old gold so much in favor now with fashionable dames. The men
came with long poles to get rid of the intruder; but whether they were
too timid to approach it, or the snake was too wide awake, I can not
tell, but the creature glided swiftly out of the room into the veranda
where we children were looking on with the ayahs, and went down into the
compound.

I shall never forget what followed the snake's escape. The men rushed
after it, but so quickly did it trail along, they could not even reach
its tail. They were in hot pursuit; my little brother, a baby boy of
three years, stood laughing and cooing with delight at the fun, his
little legs widely astride, when, horror! the snake glided toward the
spot where he stood. The men in pursuit stopped suddenly still, the
ayahs screamed, my own heart beat with dread.

But judge of what followed. The snake glided, or rather writhed, swiftly
between my little brother's legs, without touching him, and disappeared
quickly out of sight, probably in the crevice of a tree or hole.

It would be idle to tell my readers what superstitious meaning was held
by the natives at my little brother's escape, but they believed that he
was especially singled out by the great God from earthly harm.




[Illustration: THE CHICKS AND THE WORM.]

  A brood of young chicks are surrounding a worm,
  Much puzzled they are as they see the thing squirm.
  What is to be done? they ask one another.
  At length they decide upon calling their mother.





End of Project Gutenberg's Harper's Young People, August 15, 1882, by Various



*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK HARPER'S YOUNG PEOPLE, AUGUST 15, 1882 ***


    

Updated editions will replace the previous one—the old editions will
be renamed.

Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright
law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works,
so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United
States without permission and without paying copyright
royalties. Special rules, set forth in the General Terms of Use part
of this license, apply to copying and distributing Project
Gutenberg™ electronic works to protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG™
concept and trademark. Project Gutenberg is a registered trademark,
and may not be used if you charge for an eBook, except by following
the terms of the trademark license, including paying royalties for use
of the Project Gutenberg trademark. If you do not charge anything for
copies of this eBook, complying with the trademark license is very
easy. You may use this eBook for nearly any purpose such as creation
of derivative works, reports, performances and research. Project
Gutenberg eBooks may be modified and printed and given away—you may
do practically ANYTHING in the United States with eBooks not protected
by U.S. copyright law. Redistribution is subject to the trademark
license, especially commercial redistribution.


START: FULL LICENSE

THE FULL PROJECT GUTENBERG LICENSE

PLEASE READ THIS BEFORE YOU DISTRIBUTE OR USE THIS WORK

To protect the Project Gutenberg™ mission of promoting the free
distribution of electronic works, by using or distributing this work
(or any other work associated in any way with the phrase “Project
Gutenberg”), you agree to comply with all the terms of the Full
Project Gutenberg™ License available with this file or online at
www.gutenberg.org/license.

Section 1. General Terms of Use and Redistributing Project Gutenberg™
electronic works

1.A. By reading or using any part of this Project Gutenberg™
electronic work, you indicate that you have read, understand, agree to
and accept all the terms of this license and intellectual property
(trademark/copyright) agreement. If you do not agree to abide by all
the terms of this agreement, you must cease using and return or
destroy all copies of Project Gutenberg™ electronic works in your
possession. If you paid a fee for obtaining a copy of or access to a
Project Gutenberg™ electronic work and you do not agree to be bound
by the terms of this agreement, you may obtain a refund from the person
or entity to whom you paid the fee as set forth in paragraph 1.E.8.

1.B. “Project Gutenberg” is a registered trademark. It may only be
used on or associated in any way with an electronic work by people who
agree to be bound by the terms of this agreement. There are a few
things that you can do with most Project Gutenberg™ electronic works
even without complying with the full terms of this agreement. See
paragraph 1.C below. There are a lot of things you can do with Project
Gutenberg™ electronic works if you follow the terms of this
agreement and help preserve free future access to Project Gutenberg™
electronic works. See paragraph 1.E below.

1.C. The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation (“the
Foundation” or PGLAF), owns a compilation copyright in the collection
of Project Gutenberg™ electronic works. Nearly all the individual
works in the collection are in the public domain in the United
States. If an individual work is unprotected by copyright law in the
United States and you are located in the United States, we do not
claim a right to prevent you from copying, distributing, performing,
displaying or creating derivative works based on the work as long as
all references to Project Gutenberg are removed. Of course, we hope
that you will support the Project Gutenberg™ mission of promoting
free access to electronic works by freely sharing Project Gutenberg™
works in compliance with the terms of this agreement for keeping the
Project Gutenberg™ name associated with the work. You can easily
comply with the terms of this agreement by keeping this work in the
same format with its attached full Project Gutenberg™ License when
you share it without charge with others.

1.D. The copyright laws of the place where you are located also govern
what you can do with this work. Copyright laws in most countries are
in a constant state of change. If you are outside the United States,
check the laws of your country in addition to the terms of this
agreement before downloading, copying, displaying, performing,
distributing or creating derivative works based on this work or any
other Project Gutenberg™ work. The Foundation makes no
representations concerning the copyright status of any work in any
country other than the United States.

1.E. Unless you have removed all references to Project Gutenberg:

1.E.1. The following sentence, with active links to, or other
immediate access to, the full Project Gutenberg™ License must appear
prominently whenever any copy of a Project Gutenberg™ work (any work
on which the phrase “Project Gutenberg” appears, or with which the
phrase “Project Gutenberg” is associated) is accessed, displayed,
performed, viewed, copied or distributed:

    This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and most
    other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions
    whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms
    of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online
    at www.gutenberg.org. If you
    are not located in the United States, you will have to check the laws
    of the country where you are located before using this eBook.
  
1.E.2. If an individual Project Gutenberg™ electronic work is
derived from texts not protected by U.S. copyright law (does not
contain a notice indicating that it is posted with permission of the
copyright holder), the work can be copied and distributed to anyone in
the United States without paying any fees or charges. If you are
redistributing or providing access to a work with the phrase “Project
Gutenberg” associated with or appearing on the work, you must comply
either with the requirements of paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 or
obtain permission for the use of the work and the Project Gutenberg™
trademark as set forth in paragraphs 1.E.8 or 1.E.9.

1.E.3. If an individual Project Gutenberg™ electronic work is posted
with the permission of the copyright holder, your use and distribution
must comply with both paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 and any
additional terms imposed by the copyright holder. Additional terms
will be linked to the Project Gutenberg™ License for all works
posted with the permission of the copyright holder found at the
beginning of this work.

1.E.4. Do not unlink or detach or remove the full Project Gutenberg™
License terms from this work, or any files containing a part of this
work or any other work associated with Project Gutenberg™.

1.E.5. Do not copy, display, perform, distribute or redistribute this
electronic work, or any part of this electronic work, without
prominently displaying the sentence set forth in paragraph 1.E.1 with
active links or immediate access to the full terms of the Project
Gutenberg™ License.

1.E.6. You may convert to and distribute this work in any binary,
compressed, marked up, nonproprietary or proprietary form, including
any word processing or hypertext form. However, if you provide access
to or distribute copies of a Project Gutenberg™ work in a format
other than “Plain Vanilla ASCII” or other format used in the official
version posted on the official Project Gutenberg™ website
(www.gutenberg.org), you must, at no additional cost, fee or expense
to the user, provide a copy, a means of exporting a copy, or a means
of obtaining a copy upon request, of the work in its original “Plain
Vanilla ASCII” or other form. Any alternate format must include the
full Project Gutenberg™ License as specified in paragraph 1.E.1.

1.E.7. Do not charge a fee for access to, viewing, displaying,
performing, copying or distributing any Project Gutenberg™ works
unless you comply with paragraph 1.E.8 or 1.E.9.

1.E.8. You may charge a reasonable fee for copies of or providing
access to or distributing Project Gutenberg™ electronic works
provided that:

    • You pay a royalty fee of 20% of the gross profits you derive from
        the use of Project Gutenberg™ works calculated using the method
        you already use to calculate your applicable taxes. The fee is owed
        to the owner of the Project Gutenberg™ trademark, but he has
        agreed to donate royalties under this paragraph to the Project
        Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation. Royalty payments must be paid
        within 60 days following each date on which you prepare (or are
        legally required to prepare) your periodic tax returns. Royalty
        payments should be clearly marked as such and sent to the Project
        Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation at the address specified in
        Section 4, “Information about donations to the Project Gutenberg
        Literary Archive Foundation.”
    
    • You provide a full refund of any money paid by a user who notifies
        you in writing (or by e-mail) within 30 days of receipt that s/he
        does not agree to the terms of the full Project Gutenberg™
        License. You must require such a user to return or destroy all
        copies of the works possessed in a physical medium and discontinue
        all use of and all access to other copies of Project Gutenberg™
        works.
    
    • You provide, in accordance with paragraph 1.F.3, a full refund of
        any money paid for a work or a replacement copy, if a defect in the
        electronic work is discovered and reported to you within 90 days of
        receipt of the work.
    
    • You comply with all other terms of this agreement for free
        distribution of Project Gutenberg™ works.
    

1.E.9. If you wish to charge a fee or distribute a Project
Gutenberg™ electronic work or group of works on different terms than
are set forth in this agreement, you must obtain permission in writing
from the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation, the manager of
the Project Gutenberg™ trademark. Contact the Foundation as set
forth in Section 3 below.

1.F.

1.F.1. Project Gutenberg volunteers and employees expend considerable
effort to identify, do copyright research on, transcribe and proofread
works not protected by U.S. copyright law in creating the Project
Gutenberg™ collection. Despite these efforts, Project Gutenberg™
electronic works, and the medium on which they may be stored, may
contain “Defects,” such as, but not limited to, incomplete, inaccurate
or corrupt data, transcription errors, a copyright or other
intellectual property infringement, a defective or damaged disk or
other medium, a computer virus, or computer codes that damage or
cannot be read by your equipment.

1.F.2. LIMITED WARRANTY, DISCLAIMER OF DAMAGES - Except for the “Right
of Replacement or Refund” described in paragraph 1.F.3, the Project
Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation, the owner of the Project
Gutenberg™ trademark, and any other party distributing a Project
Gutenberg™ electronic work under this agreement, disclaim all
liability to you for damages, costs and expenses, including legal
fees. YOU AGREE THAT YOU HAVE NO REMEDIES FOR NEGLIGENCE, STRICT
LIABILITY, BREACH OF WARRANTY OR BREACH OF CONTRACT EXCEPT THOSE
PROVIDED IN PARAGRAPH 1.F.3. YOU AGREE THAT THE FOUNDATION, THE
TRADEMARK OWNER, AND ANY DISTRIBUTOR UNDER THIS AGREEMENT WILL NOT BE
LIABLE TO YOU FOR ACTUAL, DIRECT, INDIRECT, CONSEQUENTIAL, PUNITIVE OR
INCIDENTAL DAMAGES EVEN IF YOU GIVE NOTICE OF THE POSSIBILITY OF SUCH
DAMAGE.

1.F.3. LIMITED RIGHT OF REPLACEMENT OR REFUND - If you discover a
defect in this electronic work within 90 days of receiving it, you can
receive a refund of the money (if any) you paid for it by sending a
written explanation to the person you received the work from. If you
received the work on a physical medium, you must return the medium
with your written explanation. The person or entity that provided you
with the defective work may elect to provide a replacement copy in
lieu of a refund. If you received the work electronically, the person
or entity providing it to you may choose to give you a second
opportunity to receive the work electronically in lieu of a refund. If
the second copy is also defective, you may demand a refund in writing
without further opportunities to fix the problem.

1.F.4. Except for the limited right of replacement or refund set forth
in paragraph 1.F.3, this work is provided to you ‘AS-IS’, WITH NO
OTHER WARRANTIES OF ANY KIND, EXPRESS OR IMPLIED, INCLUDING BUT NOT
LIMITED TO WARRANTIES OF MERCHANTABILITY OR FITNESS FOR ANY PURPOSE.

1.F.5. Some states do not allow disclaimers of certain implied
warranties or the exclusion or limitation of certain types of
damages. If any disclaimer or limitation set forth in this agreement
violates the law of the state applicable to this agreement, the
agreement shall be interpreted to make the maximum disclaimer or
limitation permitted by the applicable state law. The invalidity or
unenforceability of any provision of this agreement shall not void the
remaining provisions.

1.F.6. INDEMNITY - You agree to indemnify and hold the Foundation, the
trademark owner, any agent or employee of the Foundation, anyone
providing copies of Project Gutenberg™ electronic works in
accordance with this agreement, and any volunteers associated with the
production, promotion and distribution of Project Gutenberg™
electronic works, harmless from all liability, costs and expenses,
including legal fees, that arise directly or indirectly from any of
the following which you do or cause to occur: (a) distribution of this
or any Project Gutenberg™ work, (b) alteration, modification, or
additions or deletions to any Project Gutenberg™ work, and (c) any
Defect you cause.

Section 2. Information about the Mission of Project Gutenberg™

Project Gutenberg™ is synonymous with the free distribution of
electronic works in formats readable by the widest variety of
computers including obsolete, old, middle-aged and new computers. It
exists because of the efforts of hundreds of volunteers and donations
from people in all walks of life.

Volunteers and financial support to provide volunteers with the
assistance they need are critical to reaching Project Gutenberg™’s
goals and ensuring that the Project Gutenberg™ collection will
remain freely available for generations to come. In 2001, the Project
Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation was created to provide a secure
and permanent future for Project Gutenberg™ and future
generations. To learn more about the Project Gutenberg Literary
Archive Foundation and how your efforts and donations can help, see
Sections 3 and 4 and the Foundation information page at www.gutenberg.org.

Section 3. Information about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation

The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation is a non-profit
501(c)(3) educational corporation organized under the laws of the
state of Mississippi and granted tax exempt status by the Internal
Revenue Service. The Foundation’s EIN or federal tax identification
number is 64-6221541. Contributions to the Project Gutenberg Literary
Archive Foundation are tax deductible to the full extent permitted by
U.S. federal laws and your state’s laws.

The Foundation’s business office is located at 809 North 1500 West,
Salt Lake City, UT 84116, (801) 596-1887. Email contact links and up
to date contact information can be found at the Foundation’s website
and official page at www.gutenberg.org/contact

Section 4. Information about Donations to the Project Gutenberg
Literary Archive Foundation

Project Gutenberg™ depends upon and cannot survive without widespread
public support and donations to carry out its mission of
increasing the number of public domain and licensed works that can be
freely distributed in machine-readable form accessible by the widest
array of equipment including outdated equipment. Many small donations
($1 to $5,000) are particularly important to maintaining tax exempt
status with the IRS.

The Foundation is committed to complying with the laws regulating
charities and charitable donations in all 50 states of the United
States. Compliance requirements are not uniform and it takes a
considerable effort, much paperwork and many fees to meet and keep up
with these requirements. We do not solicit donations in locations
where we have not received written confirmation of compliance. To SEND
DONATIONS or determine the status of compliance for any particular state
visit www.gutenberg.org/donate.

While we cannot and do not solicit contributions from states where we
have not met the solicitation requirements, we know of no prohibition
against accepting unsolicited donations from donors in such states who
approach us with offers to donate.

International donations are gratefully accepted, but we cannot make
any statements concerning tax treatment of donations received from
outside the United States. U.S. laws alone swamp our small staff.

Please check the Project Gutenberg web pages for current donation
methods and addresses. Donations are accepted in a number of other
ways including checks, online payments and credit card donations. To
donate, please visit: www.gutenberg.org/donate.

Section 5. General Information About Project Gutenberg™ electronic works

Professor Michael S. Hart was the originator of the Project
Gutenberg™ concept of a library of electronic works that could be
freely shared with anyone. For forty years, he produced and
distributed Project Gutenberg™ eBooks with only a loose network of
volunteer support.

Project Gutenberg™ eBooks are often created from several printed
editions, all of which are confirmed as not protected by copyright in
the U.S. unless a copyright notice is included. Thus, we do not
necessarily keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper
edition.

Most people start at our website which has the main PG search
facility: www.gutenberg.org.

This website includes information about Project Gutenberg™,
including how to make donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary
Archive Foundation, how to help produce our new eBooks, and how to
subscribe to our email newsletter to hear about new eBooks.