not only have been struck by their beauty when they rung at the
usual hours during the day, he must have been also surprised by
hearing a sonorous peal ringing out on the clear winter air two
hours after dark. This is a most unusual time for the church bells
to ring, as in the large churches of Rome there is, generally
speaking, no evening service. Two hours after sunset in winter is a
very convenient time for putting little children to bed; so the
Roman mothers inhabiting the Esquiline are accustomed to tell their
little ones that it is the Madonna, who is ringing the bells and
calling out in bell-language, "Bambini, a letto!" or "Babies, to
bed!" Then the little dark-eyed, curly-haired Roman cherubs,
however much inclined to be refractory otherwise, are contented to
let their mothers undress them. Then they say their little prayers,
and go quietly to bed. If you ask seriously about the cause of the
bells ringing at that unusual hour, the following pretty story
about the campanile, or bell tower, which is of later date than the
church itself, will be told you.
One dark winter night a wealthy Roman citizen was out late, and
lost his way in the Campagna, or waste land outside the city. The
Campagna is rather a dangerous place to get lost in, as it is wild
and uncultivated, full of ruins and deep pits. It was infested at
that time, besides, by robbers and lawless people of every kind. He
wandered about for some time in darkness so thick that he could not
see his finger before him. Sometimes he thought he had discovered
some well-known landmark, and fancied that now he would soon find
the right path, but after groping about for a while in the black
darkness he would suddenly discover that he had been moving about
in a circle, and was no nearer the goal than before. Weary,
exhausted, and utterly discouraged, dreading, besides, with every
step he took, to fall into some pit and break his neck, he almost
resolved in despair to give up the effort to reach home that night.
It was a starless, inclement night, and bitterly cold. He was just
about to sink upon the wet ground, and yield to the sleep brought
on by cold and exhaustion, from which he would probably never have
wakened more; already his eyes were closing. Suddenly he thought he
heard the tinkle of a well-known bell. He listened intently, and
recognized the bells of the new bell tower of Santa Maria Maggiore,
which were being rung that evening for some unknown cause. This
sound revived his drooping courage. He knew now where he was. After
some more groping, guided still by the sound of the bells, he
succeeded in finding the highway, and reached his home at last in
safety. In grateful remembrance of his escape, being a wealthy man,
he bequeathed a large sum of money forever to the Church of Santa
Maria Maggiore; it was to be employed to pay the ringers to ring a
peal every evening, two hours after dark, during six months of the
year. This has been done faithfully during many centuries. So
should any poor wayfarer lose his way in the wild Campagna on a
gloomy winter night, he may have a chance of finding it again in
safety. They are very beautiful bells, and when they ring out full
and clear about half past seven on a winter evening, the Roman
mothers, as I mentioned above, say to their little children: "Hark
to the bells, which say, Babies, to bed! Pray for all poor
wanderers this night."
E. M. TRAQUAIR.
* * * * *
TABLE ROCK, NEBRASKA.
I have been wanting to write a letter to you for a long time, but
have never done it until now. I have five brothers, and I am the
only girl in the family. Papa has taken HARPER'S YOUNG PEOPLE for
us ever since it began. I want to tell you about our circulating
library. There are three families of us. We all take magazines, and
exchange. There were four families, but one went to Falls City to
live. We take HARPER'S MONTHLY and YOUNG PEOPLE. I would tell you
what the rest take, only I am afraid if I did my letter would be
too long to print. I like the Wiggles very much. I think our
artist's idea of Wiggle No. 28 is so cute. I hope you can print
this, and surprise my brothers.
GERTIE B.
I think this idea of exchanging magazines and papers, as the families in
Gertie's neighborhood do, is a very good one. I am sure the little
circulating library will give pleasure to both young and old in the
three homes. An only sister who has five brothers to love is in a very
important place. Think of all the mittens she must mend, the strings she
must fasten, the knots she must untie, and the gentle words she must
speak. I hope she has a great many rides on brothers' sleds, and is
taken care of and admired by all the boys, as she ought to be.
* * * * *
FORT CRAIG, NEW MEXICO.
You asked me, a long time ago, to explain what a bucking bronco
was. Well, I'll try to do so now. Ha! ha! ha! I should think you
could hear me laugh. Why, a bronco is a horse that has never been
broken to ride or drive, and when you get on for the first time,
the bronco is generally sure to buck. Now when a bronco bucks he
just looks like a big billy-goat, with long goatee and chin
whiskers, spreading himself in front of a big looking-glass, and
jumping up in the air, striking the ground stiff-legged.
Now what else do I learn besides riding and shooting? Why, until a
week ago we had a splendid teacher, Mr. S. He's just the best
teacher. And talk about playing the fiddle!--he can make it talk,
and so he can make the guitar almost sing. Sister Eva is studying
the guitar, and I am studying the violin. Professor S. teaches
school and music, but he went off in the mountains lately for a
trip with an officer of the army, and he will not be back for a
couple of weeks. Since he left, our Mexican boy herder did the
same, and now I am up every morning at five, and off with the
horses and cattle before six, and only take a lunch with me, and
stay out until sundown. I ride a good horse, have a shepherd dog,
and go about three to four miles to good water and grass.
And you think Sis and I might sketch. Well, so we do. I did not
know what you meant by botanize until papa told me. He just loves
flowers, and has devoted a great deal of time to cultivating some
this summer. He has succeeded, after planting about one hundred
plants and several million seeds. We can--with a
magnifying-glass--discover one or two pumpkin vines which were sent
him from the East as "beautiful climbers," and one or two
morning-glories. Some of the geraniums have done well, but all the
rose-trees died. As to a cabinet, we have none; but we have some of
the most beautiful specimens of minerals, crystallized quartz,
copper, galena, spar, "white and black" silver, silver glance,
native gold and silver, and all kinds of carbonates.
And now I think I have said almost too much for one time. So, with
best wishes to all the little folks--and big folks too--who read
YOUNG PEOPLE, I will say _adios_.
HARRY W. C.
P.S.--You may think that I wrote all of this letter, but I did not.
I asked papa to copy it for me, and he said things different from
what I had it, and more of it too. Next time I will only ask him to
punctuate and correct the spelling. It took me four nights to write
this letter.
HARRY.
* * * * *
Trotty trot, trotty trot, trotty trot, trot!--
What a fit of the fidgets that youngster has got!
From the dawning of morning till dew wets the ground
He's trotting and dancing and skipping around,
With his wagon behind him, his dog at his side,
Or with whip in his paddy, my old cane astride.
His boots are bedusted, his hair in a fright;
He's the picture of healthy unbounded delight.
Oh! a package of steel springs, a bundle of joy,
Is this gay romping Charlie, our own bouncing boy.
W. W. RUNYAN.
MARION, NEW YORK.
* * * * *
NEW YORK CITY.
I am a little girl eleven years old. I take lessons and feel a
great interest in music, but I find it very difficult. I have
several pets--a dove, a cat, a doll, and a sweet little sister
named Selma. On Wednesday my teacher was teaching us botany, and
she said if you should take a glass or tumbler and fill it with
water, and put some white cotton-batting in it, and sprinkle some
seeds on the cotton, they would soon take root. So the first thing
I did when I got home was to fix it, and the next week I looked and
there were little stems coming up from the seeds. I love the
Post-office Box, and I think some stories very interesting. I like
"The Cruise of the Canoe Club" very much. This is the first letter
I ever attempted to write.
LILLIE V. P.
* * * * *
NORTHVIEW, DAKOTA TERRITORY.
You will be glad, dear Postmistress, to hear from one of your
twelve-year-old boys. I live in Dakota, on Section 20, Town 142,
Range 54. This is a good country. My father has in 200 acres of
wheat this year. The St. Paul, Minneapolis, and Manitoba Railroad
runs near our place. The Northview Post-office is kept here; mamma
is postmistress. My cousin takes HARPER'S YOUNG PEOPLE. I read it
as soon as he does. We have a little dog and cat; the dog's name is
Carlo. Carlo and the cat will drink milk together. I have a pet
crane; his name is Dick; he is about half-grown.
A. B. R.
* * * * *
BOSTON, MASSACHUSETTS.
My name is Alice, and I am ten years old. I have a sister nine
years old. She don't take HARPER'S YOUNG PEOPLE, but I do. She can
not read much yet. We both go to school, but not to the same one.
Next year we may go together. I am always sorry when school begins,
for I don't like to go at all. Good-by,
ALICE S.
Why, Alice, what can be the reason you do not like to go to school?
Perhaps you will enjoy it more when you are a little older.
* * * * *
MATAGORDA, TEXAS.
As it seems to be the fashion for children to write to the paper, I
will try to do so. I live in the country, and can ride horseback,
milk cows, climb trees, and do various other things that only
country children know how to do. My papa has a boat, and we
sometimes go down with him to Matagorda Bay and the Gulf of Mexico.
We went on a fishing excursion this summer, and saw the snowy sand
mounds on the Peninsula, and went bathing in the Gulf.
CHERRY.
* * * * *
HARTWICK, MICHIGAN.
I saw a deer a few days ago in our woods. It was very pretty. Papa
saw an old bear and two cubs about a mile from here last July, and
a few days ago a neighbor saw one in the same place.
GUY L. S.
I would advise you to keep away from those woods, Guy, unless you have a
strong party of friends with you, for Madame Bear is sometimes a
dangerous person to meet.
* * * * *
JACKSONVILLE, ILLINOIS.
I am a boy nine years old, but will soon be ten. My brother, who is
in the United States army, sends me HARPER'S YOUNG PEOPLE for a
Christmas present. I think it is the best paper ever published for
little boys and girls. I have a great many pets. I have a
mocking-bird, an Esquimaux dog, a horse, a cow, two pigs, and a
great many chickens. Please print this letter; it is the first I
have ever written.
A. L. W.
* * * * *
COATOPA STATION, ALABAMA.
Though no longer young, nor by any means small, I read YOUNG PEOPLE
with as much interest as my children, and think I can place no
better book in their hands.
I read with much interest Arthur Lindsley's article on
humming-birds, and must differ with him about their food. I have
caught them--the ruby-throat and another, which I will describe
hereafter--several times, and they never fail to get over their
fright in a few minutes, and drink eagerly of sugar and water
offered to them in a spoon. I have held them in my open hand, and
had them to chirp and flutter their wings as they sipped from the
spoon, just as they do when hovering over a flower. We have a large
mimosa-tree which when in bloom is the resort of hundreds of
"flying sunbeams," as we call them. The kind referred to above is a
bird in every particular except the bill, which is that of a
butterfly, long and tightly curled.
V. S. PARKER.
* * * * *
WAPPINGER'S FALLS, NEW YORK.
I am a little boy eight years old the 2d of October. I have three
brothers--Johnnie, Watson, and Bertie. Johnnie and I go to school.
I am learning to read and write. I tried to write this letter, but
I thought you could not read it, so I got papa to write it for me.
I like papa to read those letters that are in YOUNG PEOPLE for me,
and some of the stories. I have no pets, but I have a cunning
little brother Bertie, four months old; Johnnie is five years and
Watson three years. We had lots of rain a week ago. It rained two
days, and it flooded our basement, and the creek was very full.
HENRY C.
* * * * *
BROOKLYN, NEW YORK.
I am a little boy nine years old. I have two pet rabbits, and their
names are Snowflake and Killy, and they both are as white as snow.
I feed them on cabbage, carrots, plantain, corn bread, grass,
clover, and apples. I also have two white mice; I feed them on
bread and milk. The other day I was cleaning their cage, and one of
them escaped, but I soon caught him again.
HARRY L. W.
* * * * *
This week the Postmistress suggests two more games which the young
people may try:
CATCHING THE MOUSE.
Nine players lay their hands one on the top of the other. The one whose
hand is lowest draws it out and puts it at the top, saying, "_One!_" The
next lowest draws out hers, puts it at the top, and cries, "_Two!_" And
so on until "_Nine!_" is cried. This last player seizes one of the hands
which lie beneath her own (or more if she can), crying, "I have caught
the mouse!" and then the hand caught pays a forfeit.
But it is not easy to catch one. At the word "_Nine!_" all snatch away
their hands as quickly as possible.
This game must be played very quickly to be funny.
EVEN OR ODD?
This game is the most ancient, I think, that we know. The children who
played in the streets of Athens and in the Roman Forum in early ages
knew and loved it, and little children find amusement in it still. It is
played in this manner: One child hides in her hand a few beans, nuts,
almonds, or even bits of paper, and asks her companion to guess if they
are _odd_ or _even_.
If the playfellow guesses _odd_, and on opening her hand the other
displays an _odd_ number, she forfeits the articles to the guesser, who
hides them in her turn; but if the guess is _odd_, and the number
_even_, the guesser pays a forfeit, and the first hider retains the
beans, etc. The guess must be right to win.
* * * * *
Little Marion W., who is five years old, and lives in Newtonville,
Massachusetts, wants a pretty name for her baby brother, who is just two
months old, and ever so cunning! Who will send a name which will fit
this dear little man.
Marion printed the letter and directed it herself in quite a wonderful
way for such a tiny correspondent. Will she kiss the baby for the
Postmistress?
* * * * *
PUZZLES FROM YOUNG CONTRIBUTORS.
No. 1.
WORD SQUARE.
1. A boy's name. 2. A girl's name. 3. A reward of merit. 4. Gay and
happy. 5. A town in Massachusetts.
JUNEBUG.
* * * * *
No. 2.
DOUBLE ACROSTIC.
My primals and finals which puzzle your head
Give the name of a great book whose author is dead.
First cross-word--A native of the desert.
Second cross-word--A fruit of the desert.
Third cross-word--Emotion caused by grandeur.
Fourth cross-word implies possession.
NUTSHELL.
* * * * *
No. 3.
TWO EASY ENIGMAS.
1.
First in clouds, not in sky.
Second in low, not in high.
Third in chick, not in egg.
Fourth in ankle, not in leg.
Whole is needed in every house,
Though vain to frighten rat or mouse.
MAY LARIA.
2.
First in pin, not in ring.
Second in queen, not in king.
Third in east, not in west.
Fourth in coat, not in vest.
Fifth in harp, not in flute.
Whole is a delicious fruit.
HATTIE LANDON.
* * * * *
No. 4.
WHO KNOWS?
What word is that from which if the first letter or the last letter, or
the first and last letters, be taken, a word in each case remains? Also
the first and last letters form a word.
MUSA.
* * * * *
No. 5.
CHARADE--(_To Will A. Mette_).
My first is a vessel you often have seen,
Without my second 'twould broken have been.
My whole is a place where school-boys find
Articles dainty and much to their mind.
EDGAR SEEMAN.
* * * * *
No. 6.
AN EASY DOUBLE ACROSTIC.
1. A four-footed friend. 2. A river in Siberia. 3. Something very strong
and durable. 4. Calm. Primal is dearly loved by final.
* * * * *
No. 7.
THREE EASY DIAMONDS.
1.--1. A letter. 2. A serpent. 3. To attempt. 4. A caress. 5. A letter.
2.--1. A letter. 2. A shelter. 3. A bird. 4. A metal. 5. A letter.
PUSS IN BOOTS.
3.--1. A letter. 2. To plunder. 3. A purchasing medium. 4. A piece of
furniture. 5. A letter.
EDITH M. L.
* * * * *
ANSWERS TO PUZZLES IN No. 153.
No. 1.
Umbrella. Catamaran. Kosciuski.
No. 2.
Adding insult to injury.
Add. In. Gin. Insult. Rout. Jury.
No. 3.
Y O U N G
O W N E R
U N C L E
N E L L Y
G R E Y S
No. 4.
C U D
C A N E D
C A L T R O P
U N T W I N E
D E R I D E R
D O N E E
P E R
No. 5.
H W T
W E D W H O B I N
H E L E N W H A L E T I G E R
D E W O L D N E T
N E R
* * * * *
Correct answers to puzzles have been received from Archy Damer, Tip
Laurence, Lucie S. Downing, Clara Roe, Nettie Rice, John Brown, Alfred
M. Bloomingdale, Little Fay, William A. Lewis, M. E. F., Alice Ashe,
T. C. S. D., "Fanchon," Bessie B., Mattie Colt, Eugene Ripley, Samuel
Dorr, Emily Van Lown, Arthur May, L. Corbet, Doroville S. Coe, Helen M.
Everett, L. Bridge, Josie Willett, Alice Comstock, Emily Bradford, Guido
T., Frank and Benny, and Archy D.
* * * * *
[_For Exchanges, see 2d and 3d pages of cover._]
A NEW SERIAL.
* * * * *
NAN.
By MRS. JOHN LILLIE,
Author of "Mildred's Bargain," "Aunt Ruth's Temptation," etc.
Our girl readers will be glad to hear that they are about to have a
fresh and delightful story from the pen of their favorite author, Mrs.
Lillie. The new serial will be begun in the next number of YOUNG PEOPLE,
and will occupy a prominent place in our paper for several weeks. "Nan"
is a "girl's story," but we venture to say that there is no one of our
boy readers but will be delighted to follow this charming little heroine
through the various adventures and difficult experiences she meets with,
and in which she carries herself with such true heroism and noble
patience.
[Illustration]
TOO BAD!
BY MARGARET EYTINGE.
Beneath the old tree near the well
Wee Molly, Dolly, Polly Gray
A lovely red-cheeked apple found
One beautiful October day.
She looked at it with longing eyes
A moment, then she gave a sigh,
And sitting down upon the ground
Straightway began to cry.
With hurried steps her mother came,
"What is the matter, child?" to say.
"Oh dear! this apple is so big,"
Sobbed Molly, Dolly, Polly Gray;
"And"--faster fell her tears, as though
Hers was the saddest of all plights--
"My mouf's so small I've got to take
Such--very--little--bites."
* * * * *
THOSE SQUIRRELS.
BY ALLAN FORMAN.
"Say, Tom, the kitten's are gone," announced my brother Charlie, peering
into the manger where we had a few days before discovered Madame Puss
and her family snugly installed.
"Is Puss there?" I asked.
"Yes, and she seems awful lonesome," was the reply.
After a few moments' consultation we decided to ask Pat if he had seen
anything of the kittens.
"Sure they may have strayed away in the night."
"But they couldn't walk. They were only three days old," I objected.
"That's thrue, Mister Tom; but thin a cat's a cunnin' cratur. To see wan
of thim blinkin' by the fire all day ye'd niver think they could make
the noise they do at night; and they'd be concealin' their strength in
the daytime to use it at night," answered Pat.
Plainly there was nothing to be learned from Pat.
After thinking it over for a while, Charlie suggested that we hunt up
the young ones. We started toward the grove behind the barn with a vague
idea that people generally got lost in forests, and that it would be
quite possible for the kittens to have lost themselves in the grove.
"Maybe they have hid in the tree," suggested Charlie.
"They couldn't get there," I answered.
"But Pat said that they could do more in the night," urged Charlie.
I was eleven years old, and was half inclined to doubt Pat's reasoning,
the more that I remembered hearing my father exclaim when we announced
the discovery of the kittens:
"Goodness! we can't have four more cats. I don't get any too much sleep
as it is, and an addition of a quartette to our nightly concert is not
to be thought of."
Charlie was my junior by two years, and his faith in Patrick was
unshaken, so he said,
"I'm going up to see, anyhow." He thrust his hand into the hole, and
pulled it out again, triumphantly shouting, "What did I tell you? Here
is the"--he paused to examine his prize, and continued in a crest-fallen
tone--"a young squirrel."
"Give it to me, and get the rest," I directed.
They were very young, and were queer fuzzy-looking animals. Charlie and
I examined them, and then the thought struck me that we might give them
to the cat in place of her lost kittens.
We ran back to the barn and placed them in the manger. Madame Puss
looked puzzled for a moment, first gazing at the squirrels, then at us,
as if hardly knowing what to do. But she soon decided, and with a
comical purr, as if to say, "I suppose it is all right, but those
children have certainly changed," she drew the squirrels toward her, and
washed first one, then another, and finally went to sleep with her
strange family cuddled close to her.
After that she took the best of care of her adopted children. The
squirrels grew, and began to climb out of the manger and run around the
barn. Madame Puss was at first distressed by this, but she soon got used
to it, and seemed rather to take delight in her precocious children who
could climb so much better than she could herself. Her first real
trouble came when, after patient waiting, she caught a mouse and carried
it to the barn in triumph.
The squirrels looked on in perfect indifference, and absolutely refused
to touch the dainty morsel. Puss was surprised, but a few days later she
brought in a bird; but when they paid not the slightest attention to it
she was in despair. Had she, then, brought up a family which was to be
of no use to the world? For a day or two she tried everything--meat,
bits of fish, pieces of cold potato, until some happy inspiration led
her to take them an almond which had fallen from the dinner table. After
that she carried them bits of bread, corn, and nuts, until they grew
large enough to come to the house themselves. Then they ranged the place
from cellar to garret, dropping asleep in mother's work-basket, in
father's pockets, and in bureau drawer, until they became a perfect
nuisance. At last the crisis came: one of them went to sleep in father's
boot, and bit his toe severely when he went to put it on; the squirrels
were sent to New York to be sold, and Charlie and I each had a pair of
skates from the proceeds of the sale.
* * * * *
[Illustration: MEASURING THE BABY.]
End of Project Gutenberg's Harper's Young People, October 24, 1882, by Various