TREATS OF MY EXPERIENCE AS A PHYSICIAN--I REACH THE MISSISSIPPI.
I awoke at sunrise, or rather Doctor Norris awoke me by a vigorous dig
in the ribs with the point of his boot, and told me that breakfast was
ready. I arose at once, washed my face, combed my hair, and then
astonished the doctor by the vigor of my appetite.
During the meal he confided to me his plans for the future. He had laid
out a route through Butler and Beaver counties to the State line, and
thence through Ohio until winter set in.
“I make enough in summer to lay hup in winter,” he explained. “It’s an
’ealthy and hinvigorating life, and I like it. I’ve traveled over nearly
all the States between the Atlantic and the Mississippi, ’ave ’ad my
hups and downs, and I wouldn’t change places with a king.”
I rather doubted whether the doctor knew very much about kings, that he
could afford to speak so positively, but I felt that it would be neither
polite nor prudent to disagree with him.
“I dare say I shall like the life very well,” I said, quietly.
“But--what am I expected to do?”
“You’ll be my assistant,” said the doctor, in a lofty voice, as if he
was announcing my appointment to a cabinet position.
Then he went into details, and explained that I was to assist him in
concocting and selling the wonderful remedies of which he was the
inventor.
This duty included filling bottles, pasting on labels, carrying his
baggage, making his fires, and several other minor matters which he
could not recall just then.
“Ve’ll camp out like this most of the time,” he added. “Hotels is
hexpensive, and I never stops at ’em, unless it’s raining or I’m going
to sell in the town. You von’t mind that, vill you?”
I was more than delighted at the prospect, and I said so.
“This man,” I told myself, “is evidently a great traveler, and he is
going West. If I stick to him my fortune is made.”
It did not take the doctor long to pack up his traps, and, dividing them
between us, we journeyed along very agreeably.
When we arrived in Butler we went to a hotel, and there, in the
seclusion of our room, the doctor manufactured three dozen bottles of
the balsam, as many of the toothache drops and twice as many boxes of
the tooth-powder.
At this distance of time I cannot recall the ingredients of these justly
celebrated remedies, but I can cheerfully testify to their harmlessness.
The balsam was composed of two or three simple aromatic oils, the
toothache drops was merely a diluted essence of the oil of cloves,
and the wonderful tooth-powder chalk powdered and scented.
The labels for the various compounds the doctor carried in his oilcloth
bag, and the bottles, boxes and various ingredients he purchased at the
village drug stores.
I am almost ashamed to tell you what enormous profits he made on his
sales, and will only mention that he once told me that the bottle and
label formed nine-tenths of the cost of the Golden Balsam, which
retailed at one dollar.
In these days the street vender of physic is an ordinary sight, but a
quarter of a century ago he was almost unknown outside of the largest
cities.
After being a month in the company of Doctor Norris I easily understood
why he followed such a life. In the town of Butler two days’ sales
netted him sixty dollars, and he made nearly as much in Beaver.
He was not always so successful, but, taking one week with another,
I judged that he cleared at least fifty dollars, which was a bank
president’s salary in those days.
His methods were such as are in use among this class of gentry all the
world over.
Having prepared his stock in trade, he would gravely walk down the main
street, followed by your humble servant.
Halting on the most prominent corner, he and I would arrange the boxes
and bottles in attractive pyramids on the top of a box or a barrel,
taking as much time as possible, so as to attract the attention of the
passers-by.
Having achieved this object, the doctor would mount on a soap-box, so as
to raise himself above the crowd, and begin his harangue.
He always began gravely, and not until he had made several sales did he
venture on a joke or a witticism, although he had a plentiful stock of
cheap wit, such as crowds delight in.
Another thing: When he spoke in public he used excellent English, and
the cockney dialect entirely disappeared. He never explained this to me,
but I suppose he was like an actor on the stage when addressing a crowd.
“Ladies and gentlemen,” he would say, in calm and measured tones,
“Shakespeare has said, ‘Throw physic to the dogs; I’ll none of it!’ and
he was right. Medicinal drugs are pernicious, even when given by a
practiced physician, but when administered by quacks, it is little short
of murder. Now, in my medicines I do not give you strange and deadly
drugs. The articles I use are all known to you” (this was strictly
true), “the mode of preparation only being a secret. No pain, no danger
in their use, absolutely harmless to the smallest child, yet so powerful
that the most deadly ailments yield to their power.”
Thus the doctor talked on for fifteen minutes, taking the crowd into his
confidence in a learned and fatherly way, until some fellow bashfully
thrust forward a coin, and then the money rolled in.
The doctor was now in his element; he was witty, he cracked jokes,
he told stories, and even indulged in snatches of song, and he rarely
failed to hold his audience until his stock was exhausted.
This operation sometimes consumed three or four hours, and sometimes his
eloquence was wasted. But at all times he was cheerful and polite, and
good and bad fortune seemed alike to him.
I thought then, and I still think, that he was a remarkable man; and I
am sure that he treated me very kindly. He paid me a very liberal salary
of ten dollars a month, and whenever he had an unusually good day, gave
me an extra dollar.
All of this money I carefully stowed away in my belt for a rainy day,
which I felt sure would come. And my experience did not deceive me.
After leaving Pennsylvania, we traveled through the small towns of Ohio
until near the middle of December, as it was a very open winter, and it
was nearly Christmas before the cold and snow drove us into winter
quarters in Toledo.
The doctor intended to treat himself to a three months’ rest, and for
that purpose hired two rooms and kept bachelor’s hall, and invited me to
keep him company.
I received no wages; but as he was to bear all expenses, I willingly
agreed to the arrangement.
These three months were absolutely uneventful, and about the first of
April we started out again.
The doctor had laid out a new route for this season. We traveled across
country by stage to Keokuk, Iowa, intending to travel up the river as
far as St. Paul, and then work eastward thorough Wisconsin and Michigan,
and close the season at Detroit.
But we never carried out our programme. My cruel fate pursued me--or was
it punishment for my foolishness?--and at Davenport I was once more cast
adrift.
[TO BE CONTINUED.]
INTERNATIONAL LESSON--FOR MAY 29.
Exodus 14:19-21. Golden Text--Isaiah 43:2.
Central Subject--THE PASSAGE OF THE RED SEA.
BY REV. D. P. KIDDER, D.D.
INTRODUCTION.
According to Jewish tradition, it was seven days after the Passover that
the Israelites passed over the Red Sea.
Before they left they were directed by God to ask (not “borrow,” as it
is in our version) of the Egyptians jewels of silver and gold, and other
articles that would be of service to them.
It was customary thus on the eve of a journey, or at the close of a term
of service, to ask gifts. The practice corresponded to the asking of
_backshish_, still so common in the East.
The Egyptians, it seemed, readily and generously granted the request of
the Israelites and supplied them abundantly. Thus, in some slight
measure, they made return for the long years of unrequited service which
the Hebrews had rendered to Egypt’s land and Egypt’s king.
While the Egyptians were bewailing their dead, the children of Israel,
having finished hurriedly their Passover feast, started on their journey
of escape. Leaving Rameses, the western part of Goshen, they assembled
at Succoth--“place of tents”--so called because it was a camping place
for caravans going east, then and now. They were, perhaps, four days
gathering at this spot, about two millions of people all told.
The next point which they reached was Etham. This was a district of
country just on the edge of the desert. From this point there were three
routes to Palestine. The Israelites, by divine direction, took the most
southern.
They were at first surprised at this order of march; but it was the only
safe one for them. The most northern would have taken them right through
the country of the warlike and hostile Philistines, and the middle route
(after passing the great wall which stretched from Pelusium on the
Mediterranean Sea to the Gulf of Suez) would have brought them right out
upon the desert.
Several days had elapsed since the Israelites started on their flight.
Pharaoh already missed them. His important works were brought to a
standstill; there was no one to make or handle bricks, and the loss of
so large and so efficient a body of workers was severely felt.
A reaction takes place in the mind of the king; he charges himself with
folly in letting the people go, and resolves to pursue them. He learns,
also, that they have not yet got out of the land of Egypt, and he thinks
that by the fact that they have turned south, and not gone directly to
the east, they are confused, and he plans to catch them when they are
hemmed in by the mountains and the sea.
With six hundred of his swiftest chariots he at once sets out after
them, leaving orders, doubtless, for other chariots as well as foot
soldiers to follow as soon as possible.
The Israelites were in the greatest alarm; there was no visible means of
escape. They could go no further south, for the mountains were in front
of them; they could not turn to the right for the same reason; the
Egyptians were in their rear, and the Red Sea was before them. They were
in a trap. This is what Pharaoh expected. The strategy on which he had
reckoned (ver. 3) had worked admirably.
THE PRESENT HELP IN TROUBLE.
“And the angel of God, which went before the camp of Israel, removed
and went behind them; and the pillar of the cloud went from before
their face, and stood behind them:
“And it came between the camp of the Egyptians and the camp of
Israel: and it was a cloud and darkness to them, but it gave light
by night to these: so that the one came not near the other all the
night.”
It is singular that this blind king should so soon forget that there was
a God in Israel, and that he was to come into collision again with that
Being who had so often foiled, and finally, in the death of the
first-born, had utterly crushed him.
But none are so blind or so heedless as the obstinate and the
unbelieving. It will be seen that the battle that is soon to follow will
end as before--in the defeat of Pharaoh, and, as some think, his death.
We have in this “angel of God” the same being that we have met so often
before, who talked familiarly with Abraham and Jacob. He is the one who
afterward came in the form of the flesh, and is called Christ.
This time His symbol was a cloud, and at night a pillar of fire. In such
a large host as that of the children of Israel were at this time, it
would be necessary that there be some elevated central object, so that
those of the people scattered widely, in caring for the flocks and other
like services, should not lose the location of the camp.
Some such arrangement was early found important in caravans crossing the
deserts, so that it was customary to carry a round grate with fire, held
aloft on a pole. The ancient Persians and some other nations carried a
sacred fire in silver altars before their armies.
At night this cloud over the camp of the Israelites was illumined by
some strong internal fire, so that the host dwelt amid the darkness of
the desert as in a city brightly lighted. It was a marvelous miracle.
This cloud now changed its position as the Egyptians came near to the
Israelites. It stood between the two hosts. Over the Egyptians it was a
dense fog that cut off all their vision so that they could not tell what
the Israelites were doing, while to the latter it was as though it had
caught and held the rays of the setting sun, and poured a brilliant
glory all over and through their encampment. The Egyptians, thinking
that the rising sun will disperse the fog, wait for morning.
THE ISRAELITES ENTER THE RED SEA.
“And Moses stretched out his hand over the sea; and the Lord caused
the sea to go back by a strong east wind all that night, and made
the sea dry land, and the waters were divided.
“And the children of Israel went into the midst of the sea upon dry
ground: and the waters were a wall unto them on their right hand,
and on their left.”
While the Egyptians were thus waiting, the Israelites were busy; they
were making the best use of their time. They were making their escape by
the way last of all thought possible--even the bottom of the sea!
The crossing was made in the neighborhood of what are now called the
Bitter Lakes. This was then most probably the head of the Red Sea.
It was at a time of the year when the tide would help the action of the
wind. If there were shoals or flats at the place where the crossing is
supposed to have occurred, as there are now at Suez, the wind and the
tide clearing a passage there would leave deep water on both sides of
the passage-way, and this most probably is the meaning of the expression
that the waters were a wall to them on either side.
“They were a defense; not necessarily perpendicular cliffs, as they
were often pictured. God could make the water stand in precipices if
He should so choose, and such a conception is more impressive to the
imagination, but it is certain that the language of the text may
mean simply that the water was a protection on the right and on the
left flanks of the host. Thus, in Nahum 3:8, No (Thebes) is said to
have the sea (the broad Nile) for the rampart and a wall--that is,
a defense, a protection against enemies. It is true that in poetical
passages the waters are said to have stood ’as a heap’ (Exod. 15:8;
Psa. 78:13); but so they are also, in the same style, said to have
been ’congealed in the heart of the sea,’ and the peaks of the
trembling Horeb are said to have ’skipped like rams, and the little
hills like lambs’ (Psa. 114:4). Of course these expressions are not
to be literally and prosaically interpreted.”
[Illustration]
The wind thus prevailed all night, to keep the passage open until all
the Israelites had crossed and the pursuing Egyptians had got well into
the sea.
THE ENEMY FOLLOW CLOSELY.
“And the Egyptians pursued, and went in after them to the midst of
the sea, even all Pharaoh’s horses, his chariots and his horsemen.
“And it came to pass that in the morning watch the Lord looked unto
the host of the Egyptians through the pillar of fire and of the
cloud, and troubled the host of the Egyptians.
“And took off their chariot wheels, that they drave them heavily; so
that the Egyptians said, Let us flee from the face of Israel; for
the Lord fighteth for them against the Egyptians.”
Surrounded by darkness and enveloped by the fog, the Egyptians did not
know that they were rushing into the midst of the sea. It is not said
that Pharaoh went in, and yet as the post of the king is usually
represented on the ancient monuments as leading his soldiers--marching
at their head--it may be, as some think, that his chariot led those six
hundred chariots, and that he perished with them.
“The chariots of Egypt were very famous. According to Diodorus
Siculus, Rameses II had twenty-seven thousand in his army.
The processes of manufacture of chariots and harness are fully
illustrated by existing sculptures, in which also are represented
the chariots used by neighboring nations.”--_Rev. H. W. Phillot._
At this point the movements of the Egyptians are very much impeded.
Shortly after midnight, the fog changed into a storm cloud, blazing with
lightning and growling with thunder. This was terrifying to the
Egyptians in the extreme, as they were not accustomed to thunderstorms,
and scarcely ever saw rain.
“Showers of rain also came down from the sky, and dreadful thunder
and lightning, with flashes of fire. Thunderbolts also were darted
upon them; nor was there anything which God sends upon men as
indications of His wrath which did not happen at this
time.”--_Josephus._
Psalms 77:15-20 refers to this storm. Although the Israelites went
through dry-shod, the pursuing chariots sank in the mire, were buried in
the sand, and in some cases the wheels were wrenched off, so that the
superstitious Egyptians recognized the fact that the God of Israel was
fighting against them. They therefore began to retreat. In the meantime
the children of Israel had an abundance of time to make good their
escape.
“Before the captivity, the night (between sunset and sunrise) was
divided by the Israelites into three watches--the first watch, the
middle watch and the morning watch. It appears that the Israelites
had the space of two watches, at least (or eight hours), for
effecting their passage.”--_Murphy._
THE OVERTHROW OF PHARAOH’S HOST.
“And the Lord said unto Moses, Stretch out thine hand over the sea,
that the waters may come again upon the Egyptians, upon their
chariots and upon their horsemen.
“And Moses stretched forth his hand over the sea, and the sea
returned to his strength when the morning appeared; and the
Egyptians fled against it, and the Lord overthrew the Egyptians in
the midst of the sea.
“And the waters returned, and covered the chariots, and the
horsemen, and all the host of Pharaoh that came into the sea after
them; there remained not so much as one of them.”
After the fugitives had safely gained the farther shore, and while the
Egyptians were still struggling in the middle of the passage, through
the gray of the dawn they saw the majestic form of Moses rise upon the
opposite bank. They saw him stretch forth that terrible rod--that rod
which had left so many deep scars upon the fair land of Egypt--and
immediately the wind ceased, its strong pressure was relaxed, the sudden
swell of the tide caught the waters, and they, as if impatient of
restraint, leaped again to their wonted channel, burying the hopeless
and helpless enemy.
“A sudden cessation of the wind at sunrise, coinciding with a spring
tide (it was full moon), would immediately convert the low, flat
sand-banks, first into a quicksand, and then into a mass of waters,
in a time far less than would suffice for the escape of a single
chariot or horseman loaded with heavy corselet.”--_Canon Cook._
The destruction was as complete as it was sudden. Not one escaped. The
disaster was overwhelming, crushing. The Egyptians never again disturbed
the Israelites during all their after wanderings.
THIS WAS THE LORD’S DOINGS.
“But the children of Israel walked upon dry land in the midst of the
sea; and the waters were a wall unto them on their right hand and on
their left.
“Thus the Lord saved Israel that day out of the hand of the
Egyptians; and Israel saw the Egyptians dead upon the seashore.
“And Israel saw that great work which the Lord did upon the
Egyptians; and the people feared the Lord, and believed the Lord,
and his servant Moses.”
There was only one explanation of this event, and that was the Lord
wrought it. There could be no room in the mind of any of the children of
Israel to doubt that God was with them. Repeatedly had they seen their
enemies baffled and discomfited; now they saw them destroyed. What folly
to contend with such a God! Would it be possible for these people thus
delivered ever to doubt God? ever to distrust Him? ever to disobey Him?
It would seem not.
They had every reason to believe Him, to be grateful to Him, to love and
serve Him devotedly. Without lifting a finger, they, an unarmed people,
with not a soldier in all their ranks, nor a weapon worthy the name, had
triumphed over a chosen detachment of the finest army in the world at
that time, led, too, by a king who was familiar with battles and
accustomed to victories.
Josephus says that, after the passage of the sea by the Israelites,
a west wind set in, which (assisted by the current) drove the bodies of
the drowned Egyptians to the eastern side of the gulf, where many of
them were cast up upon the shore. In this way, Moses, according to him,
obtained weapons and armor for a considerable number of Israelites.
WHAT THEY DO WHEN IT RAINS.
By Carrie Cathcart Day.
“Where do you go,
Sweet, happy bird,
When wild winds blow
And storms are heard?
Do you not dread the rushing rain,
And wish the sky was bright again?”
“Tweet oh! I fly
To nestlings near--
To hush their cry,
And soothe their fear;
And o’er them all my wings I fold,
To keep them safely from the cold.”
“Where do you run,
Dear little duck?
Is the rain fun,
And best of luck?”
“Oh, yes! Quack! quack! I swim in glee,
It never pours too hard for me!”
“Of course, good sheep,
You do not care--
Out-doors you keep
Through foul and fair;
Your coat is surely thick enough
To shield you from a tempest rough?”
“Baa! baa! baa! baa!
I let the geese
Have all the wet;
For should my fleece
All soaking get,
’Twould be too heavy for my play--
So to my shed I skip away.”
“Why do you croak
So long and loud,
Queer froggie folk,
When comes a cloud?”
“Cree-crake! cree-crake!
Because our pollywogs, we know,
When ponds are full will nicely grow!”
“But, bumble-bee,
Your gauzy wings,
It seems to me,
Are flimsy things;
Should they get drenched, ’twould spoil them quite,
And you’d be in a sorry plight!”
“I crawl beneath
A lily bell--
A lovely sheath
That suits me well,
And when--buzz! buzz!--the sun I greet,
The roses all are fresh and sweet.”
“Well, surely you,
My little lad,
Feel very blue
In weather sad?
You mope and fret and whine and frown,
To see the torrents driving down!”
“Oh, ho! oh, ho!
You do not know;
For _thus_, you see,
My trowsers go
Up to my knee;
I make believe to wade and splash
In puddles nice, with Puss and Dash,
And we pretend the shower pours
As hard _within_ as out of doors!”
JACK-A-DANDY.
BY HELEN WHITNEY CLARK.
We children had been wishing for a tame crow ever since reading Dickens’
charming description of his pet raven. There were no ravens where we
lived; but Brother Tom said crows were just as good, and could be taught
to talk, too.
And one day, when we were playing “Here we go round the mulberry bush”
in the woods near the house, little Ikey, our colored washerwoman’s boy,
came along with a live crow in his hands.
Of course we were curious to see and examine the wonderful bird, and we
crowded around Ikey, who seemed bewildered at being the object of so
much attention.
“Where did you get him?” “What you going to do with him?” “How much will
you take for him?” asked Tom, Josie and Fred, in one breath.
But Ikey only grinned, as he answered each in turn.
“Got him out of his nest in a post-oak. Dey was more of ’em, but I
couldn’t git ony dis one. I’m a-gwine to raise him if mammy’ll let me.
But I mout sell him, if I git a good chance.”
The opportunity was not to be lost, and in a very few moments Ikey was
trudging homeward with a handful of coppers and two nickels--all the
change we could raise among us, and we proudly carried our new-found
treasure to the house.
“Mercy on us!” cried mamma, holding up her hands. “What on earth have
you got there?”
“A crow,” we told her. “And we’re going to tame him, and teach him to
talk.”
“Nonsense!” said mamma. “You don’t suppose I’ll have a _crow_ about the
house, to kill the young chickens and eat up the eggs!”
But we begged and pleaded, till at last she gave her consent to let us
keep it.
“It’ll be a great torment,” grumbled grandma. “It’s a _young_ bird,
and you’ll have to feed it like a baby.”
But we did not mind the trouble. Indeed, it was more of an amusement to
us to feed our pet on scraps of meat and bits of bread. It opened its
mouth so wide, and cried “Caw-aw-aw!” in such a satisfactory way.
Ikey had instructed us as to the manner of feeding.
“Jess you peck it on de head, an’ it’ll open its mouth like it does fur
de ole birds,” he explained.
And we found his advice was good.
We named our pet “Jack-a-Dandy,” and he grew and throve so much that he
was soon able to procure his own food, which consisted of crickets and
other insects.
He was so tame that we could allow him perfect freedom, without any fear
of his deserting us.
As he grew older, he used frequently to fly into the top of a tall
post-oak near the front door, from which he would circle around and
around the house, then alight on the ground, and come hopping in the
door, with a cheerful “caw! caw!” as if asserting that there was no
place like home.
“He’s better than Dick Hardy’s tame squirrel,” Tom used to say, “for
that has to be kept in a cage.”
“And Bob Rooney’s pet coon has to be fastened by a chain,” said Josie.
“But Jack-a-Dandy is as free as we are.”
But mamma was not particularly pleased with Jack, and grandma continued
to grumble over his misdemeanors, especially when he would rummage in
her work-basket, and carry off her silver thimble or bright steel
bodkin.
“He’s a troublesome creature,” she would declare, “and if I had _my_
way, he’d get his neck wrung.”
But we kept a good watch on our favorite, to keep him from getting into
mischief.
We had used our best endeavors to teach him to talk, but he was a poor
scholar, and could not even learn to pronounce his own name.
Still we loved him, and continued to take his part against his enemies.
Papa had never said much, one way or the other, about Jack, though he
was not very favorably disposed toward the race of crows. But when the
spring planting was done, he took sides with the opposition.
“If your tame thief pulls up my corn, I’ll shoot him,” he declared.
“If he troubles the young chickens, he’ll have to go,” said mamma.
“If he spoils my garden, I’ll wring his neck,” asserted grandma.
And, as may be imagined, we suffered considerable anxiety about our pet.
One day we were eating dinner, while Jack sat perched on the post-oak
near the door.
Suddenly a terrible commotion occurred in the chicken-yard, caused by a
hawk which had swooped down and seized a young chicken.
The hen-mother, however, attacked the marauder so furiously that it was
unable to carry off its prey immediately, and before papa could seize
his gun and reach the scene of conflict, Jack-a-Dandy had flown to the
hen’s assistance.
He attacked the hawk so desperately that it dropped its prey, and a
terrible combat ensued, in which Jack came off the victor. But not
satisfied with this, he pursued the flying enemy a long distance,
attacking him sharply when occasion offered.
[Illustration:
“BEFORE PAPA COULD SEIZE HIS GUN AND REACH THE SCENE OF CONFLICT,
JACK-A-DANDY HAD FLOWN TO THE HEN’S ASSISTANCE.”]
You may be sure we had a great many praises and a sumptuous dinner for
our favorite, on his return.
Hawks had for years been a great pest to poultry raising, and even mamma
espoused Jack’s cause after his successful battle with the rapacious
foe.
And during Jack’s life, not another chicken was molested by the hawks,
as he kept a vigilant watch, and attacked every one that dared to
venture near the premises.
He even won the good-will of papa, by keeping rigidly aloof from the
corn-field; but grandma was still fearful lest he might do some damage
to the garden.
She was very careful of her early vegetables, and the garden-spot was
paled in, to keep the chickens and rabbits from making depredations on
the early lettuce, peas and cabbages.
But no fence would keep Jack out. Like the wind, he went “wherever he
listeth.”
Much to our relief, however, he did not offer to molest the vegetables,
but did good service in picking up the insects and cut-worms, which are
usually such a pest about a garden.
When he fell to devouring the squash-bugs, which were sapping the life
of the “Boston Marrows,” grandma’s last prejudice was overcome, and she
declared that Jack was worth his weight in gold.
After that, she never went to the garden without calling Jack, who would
give an answering “caw!” and hop gravely after her, or perch on her
shoulder with all the confidence of a privileged favorite.
As long as he lived, Jack continued to grow in the good opinion of the
household. But, alas! he could not live forever.
One day he sat drooping on his perch, and refused to be enticed away
from it. He even declined the plump crickets Fred offered him in hopes
of tempting his appetite.
The next morning he was found dead under his perch. He was mourned
sincerely by the whole family, from grandma down, and we buried him with
great ceremony under his favorite post-oak.
Tom sodded his grave, Josie planted a “mourning bride” over it, and Fred
put up a shingle for a headstone, with this verse on it, which we all
thought very beautiful:
“Handy-spandy, Jack-a-Dandy
Loves plum-cake and sugar candy.”
[_This Story began in No. 15._]
THE
YOUNG GAME-WARDEN
BY HARRY CASTLEMON.