THE SHORE ANCHORAGE.
The day on which the good schooner Restless became their property was
the last Captain Irwin’s party spent at Key West in the same aimless
fashion as the six weeks previous had been passed.
On the following morning each one had quite as much as he or she could
do, for according to the terms of the charter it was necessary the
vessel should leave port at the earliest possible moment.
The captain had a variety of duties which could only be attended to by
himself. To Jake was left the work of buying and putting aboard the
provisions; Ben and Gertie were detailed to set the cabin to rights,
help Chloe pack up such household goods as they owned, and look after
their removal.
On the second day the task of loading the schooner was begun, and
forty-eight hours later the Restless left the harbor bound north. Four
sailors, one of whom was to act as mate, had been hired, and with such
help as Jake and Ben could give, she had crew enough to handle her in
any kind of weather.
Of course Chloe, Gertie and the cat were installed in one of the
state-rooms; Captain Irwin occupied the second, while the mate had
another, and it was supposed that Ben and the cook would divide the
last between them, but Jake insisted on sleeping in the forecastle,
even though he was a third owner of the vessel, giving the following
as his reason:
“You see, I never have lived aft, an’ it’s hard work teachin’ old dogs
new tricks. Then, agin, no matter if _half_ the schooner was mine, I’m
only the cook after all, an’ it don’t do for the captain of the galley
to sling too much style.”
After that explanation no one attempted to dissuade him from his
purpose. He did not think it out of place to visit the cabin very
often during his leisure moments, nor did he forget his intention to
“knock Chloe’s eye out” by a series of elaborate meals. It seemed as if
each contained a greater variety of food than the one preceding, and
before two days elapsed the old woman was willing to admit that he was
skillful.
“He’s de fustest man I’se eber seen what was wuff his salt in a
kitchen,” she said confidentially to Gertie. “He kin turn out what
tastes mighty good, but bress yer heart, honey, it’s only kase he’s on
de water. Wait till we fin’ dat home de captin tells ’bout, an’ den he
won’t ’mount to scarcely nuffin’ at all side ob yer ole mammy.”
It was as if the Restless tried on this first voyage to convince her
new owners that they had not been mistaken in regard to her speed. With
strong, favoring winds she fairly flew over the water, and it is an
actual fact, as Ben can prove by certain newspaper cuttings which he
preserves very carefully, that she arrived at New York in two hours’
less time than was occupied by the mail steamer during the same week.
The passengers did not land immediately after the schooner reached the
dock. They already looked upon her cabin as home, therefore it was
decided that all should remain on board until after the cargo was
discharged, when the captain would have plenty of time in which to make
the necessary arrangements.
Before a week passed every detail had been settled regarding the “shore
anchorage.” The old French lady with whom Captain Irwin was acquainted,
Madame Servoise, was not only willing, but very happy to be installed
as the superintendent of such a home as it was proposed to make, and at
once set out to search for a dwelling, after which matters progressed
finely.
A little cottage on the banks of the Hudson River, with a view of the
water, such as would be pleasing to Captain Irwin, and a garden that
gave Chloe visions of table luxuries grown under her own eyes, was the
place selected. It was but a short walk from the school which Ben and
Gertie were to attend, and to the castaways who had never before known
what a real home was, it filled every requirement.
Chloe was allowed to fit up her own especial domain--the kitchen--as
best pleased her, and never was a purchaser more captious than she when
the culinary articles were selected.
“I’se gwine ter hab what’s mos’ needed,” she said privately to Gertie,
“so’s I kin show dat wuffless Jake de meanin’ ob a good cook. ’Pears
like he’s swelled all up kase we ate so much on de schooner, an’ yer
ole aunty’s gwine ter fill him up full once, so’s he can’t talk ’bout
his own vittles.”
She succeeded, as a matter of fact, for the first dinner in the new
house was such an one as would have tempted the appetite of the
daintiest epicure, and to the old woman’s great delight Jake did full
justice to the meal.
“You ain’t a bad cook, aunty,” he said, when it was not possible for
him to eat any more, “an’ I allow you can get up what’s good for a
man’s stomach; but jest wait till I own half of the Restless instead of
one-third. Then the whole cabin is to be turned into a galley, an’ I’ll
have a chance to swing myself.”
Chloe made no reply. She knew the change in the schooner Jake spoke of
would never be made and the amount of food he had eaten was sufficient
praise.
If it were only possible to show you that home now, after it has been
occupied all these years, you would acknowledge that there could
be none more pleasant. Yet though such a long time has elapsed,
that little cottage where the cat, which was once believed to be
supernatural, is spending her declining days in comfort, save when an
over-bold mouse causes some trouble, is one of the most delightful
places at which to visit, and a guest is always eager to return.
Sometimes, when he is in a particularly good humor, Jake admits that
he gets better meals ashore than on the Restless, and it is positive
Captain Irwin looks forward impatiently to the days when he can remain
permanently with his family in New York.
It has been a number of years since the Sea Queen started out on her
last voyage, and Ben and Gertie are now so far embarked on the sea of
life that she wears a pretty diamond ring on her forefinger, apparently
thinking it very precious, for it was presented by the young mate of
the Restless.
Perhaps it would be well to look back for a moment to the time when
Captain Irwin’s “family” first began housekeeping, for there were
one or two incidents which occurred shortly afterward that may be
interesting.
When the Restless arrived in port at the end of the second voyage
after she was owned by those who spent so many days on Content Key,
Captain Irwin made it his business to search for Chloe’s Moses, and
after some difficulty succeeded in finding him at a hotel on Broadway,
where he was employed as waiter.
Of course Moses was delighted to hear from his mother, whom he had
believed to be dead, and quite naturally he took advantage of the first
opportunity to call upon her.
Prepared in advance for the visit, Chloe sat in the kitchen with her
turban twisted a trifle tighter than usual, and her fat face fairly
glistening with motherly affection.
Mrs. Servoise was at the window when Moses came up the stoop, and,
just for an instant, she might perhaps have thought her visitor was
a fragment of some dyspeptic rainbow. The most conspicuous portions
of his costume were the shirt-front, collar and cuffs, bedecked with
colored illustrations of horseshoes, jockeys’ caps, whips and spurs.
A red and blue neck-tie, with broad bars of yellow, hung out over the
black, white and green checks on his clothes, and a small cane with a
very large handle lent a general finish to the whole.
Ben and Gertie were almost as much interested in this meeting between
mother and son as the old woman herself, and the former admitted the
gorgeous youth while the latter followed the others to the very door of
the kitchen.
Chloe started to her feet as the boy entered, but instead of folding
him to her bosom as the watchers in the hall-way anticipated, she
retreated toward the stove in real or simulated fear.
“G’way, g’way from h’yar!” she cried, waving her hands nervously.
“Wha’ you fool nigger doin’ in dis house?”
“Why, don’t you know me, mammy? Has I growed so fine dat you fail to
dismember yer own chile?”
“G’way, g’way; don’ come one inch furder, or I’ll scald you, suah! My
Mose wasn’t no sich jumpin’-jack as you is; he was a ’spectable nigger
when he lef’ his ole mammy.”
Ben and Gertie were nearly convulsed with mirth at the tableau
presented just at this moment. In the corner stood old Chloe with both
black hands held in front of her to keep the gorgeous apparition at a
respectful distance, and in the center of the room, his mouth wide open
with astonishment, stood Moses, gazing at his mother as if fearing her
senses had suddenly taken their leave.
“You’se wrong, mammy, you’se wrong. I’se de same Mose what sent fur you
to come up Norf, an’ I’se gettin’ erlong right smart.”
“My boy sent for me,” Chloe said, speaking slowly and with considerable
dignity, “an’ I’se done gone got pretty nigh dead gettin’ here; but it
wasn’t fur sich a hollyhock as you is dat I dragged my pore ole bones
ober de sea. G’way, I tells yer, an’ ef you see my Mose when he’s
’specterable, sen’ him up here ter me.”
It was useless for Moses to insist that his position in society
demanded a faultless costume, and all in vain did he plead with her to
“be sensible.” She positively refused to recognize him until he “looked
decent,” and not until he presented himself in less gorgeous array
would she even treat him with civility.
And the old woman conquered, for on the following evening he called
again dressed according to her ideas of good taste, and received as
affectionate a greeting as the most loving child could have desired.
To-day he is general assistant on board the Restless, and both Jake and
Ben give Chloe glowing reports of his industry and good character.
Nothing was heard regarding Dr. Harlan for nearly two years after the
law had given to Gertie a guardian, and then Captain Irwin brought from
Key West reliable information of his death. During that time he had
remained in the City of Mexico selling his nostrums, when not wholly
intoxicated, and while trying to extract a tooth for an unwilling
patient, but succeeding only in breaking the man’s jaw, he was killed.
It would be affectation to say that Gertie mourned for him. Her
earliest memories were of his cruelty to her mother, and later came
personal fear, after which the knowledge that he was dead could not but
be a relief.
And now a final word.
Next fall Ben takes command of the Restless, Captain Irwin believing
it is time for him to retire from active life; the little schooner has
earned a comfortable competency for her owners, and both he and Jake
will live on shore the remainder of their days. Chloe is also to resign
in favor of a younger cook; her time of labor is well nigh spent, and,
as Jake says, the old people will have nothing to do but watch for the
arrival of the fruiter.
Ben is to be her captain when she goes again to Key West for a cargo,
and with him will be Mrs. Clark, for whom Chloe is to officiate the
last time in the kitchen when she makes the wedding cake. It is safe to
assume that the young captain will be both happy and prosperous, and
never forget that his wife as well as his fortune came from that one
attempt to catch a turtle, which resulted in five people becoming the
most intimate of friends when they could no longer be called castaways.
THE PAW-PAW HUNT.
“Well,” said Phil critically, “I never thought that box of tools would
be of the least earthly use to you, Ned. But that’s as good a bookcase
as any cabinet-maker could turn out.”
“Yes, sir! That’s pretty fair.” Ned Holmes stood up, wiping his hot
face. “The thing’s not hard to put together. But when you come to this
polishing--first varnish and then sandpaper, varnish and sandpaper--it
almost cracks your back.”
The boys were in the back yard, where Ned had made his workshop under
the big walnut. They were just out of school, and Phil had followed
Ned home. Carpentering was the last hobby. Just then they heard Ned’s
sister Fan, with two or three other girls, come down the street to the
gate.
“Let’s go in and see Ned at work,” cried Jenny Symons, with her usual
giggle.
“Ned don’t like to be bothered,” whispered Fanny.
“Dear me! The Grand Turk, is he? Well, I’m not going to bother him.”
In they came.
“Isn’t it splendid?”
“How nice! Why, it’s perfectly lovely!”
“La! Did you really do it all yourself, N-- Mr. Holmes?”
Ned and Phil were near enough to the age of “beaux” to touch their hats
and say, “Good-evening, ladies.” Then they both stooped and began to
sandpaper, as if for their lives.
“I can’t do anything, with a lot of girls cluttering about,” muttered
Ned, not so low but that Jenny and her companions heard him, and after
a few more giggles and tosses of the head they flounced off, leaving
Fan and Phil’s sister Maggie on the steps.
“Do we worry you, Ned?” asked Fan.
“Not if you sit there.”
Phil and he then continued their conversation, which was couched in
mysterious phrases of how Jim Ford muffed four times, and that there
could not be a doubt that Joe had a foul, and how they would lay three
to one that Denzell would gag in Horace to-morrow.
Maggie was busy with her box of paper dolls, but Fanny had nothing to
do but notice how warm the sun was, although the grass patch under the
walnut tree was nipped brown by the frost. She looked beyond the mass
of smoky chimneys to where Mt. Hale rose like a green sugar loaf into
the October sky.
“I’ll tell you what would be good for Saturday,” she said, with a wise
little nod. “Paw-paws. You and Ned, Phil and Maggie and me, and more
if you choose. Start by daylight, and go to Mt. Hale, and stay all day
paw-paw hunting.”
“And pack baskets!” cried Maggie, clapping her hands. “Dinner and
supper both, Fan. We’d better take a lot, for our Phil--Oh, well, he’s
_always_ hungry.”
Phil’s face grew very red, and Ned answered on behalf of his friend,
“Paw-paw hunting? Bosh!”
“Don’t you think it would be nice, Ned?” said Fan.
“Very nice for a lot of girls,” loftily. “But I don’t like paw-paws;
mushy, sweet stuff. Anyhow, you couldn’t climb Mt. Hale, and if you
did, there’s no paw-paws on it.”
“I’ve been to the top twice. And the paw-paws are on the
side”--quietly. “But we’ll not go. Come in, Maggie.”
The girls disappeared in the house. As soon as they were out of sight
Ned threw down his sandpaper.
“I tell you, Phil, it’s just the thing.”
“Mt. Hale? Yes, it would be jolly. We’ll go Saturday. There’s Jim and
John Stiles, and Sam Bender’ll go, and--oh, lots! And mother’ll put up
a market basket of dinner, and your mother’ll do the same; and----”
“But about the girls?”
“Oh, no matter about the girls! They’re always in the way, stuck in
the mud, or screaming at snakes, or crying out ‘Oh, how can you?’ if a
fellow gets a bird’s nest or trees a bunny, or anything.”
“That’s so!” rejoined Ned. He sandpapered away in silence for awhile,
and then looked up.
“Tell you, Phil, it would be mean to leave ’em out. It was Fan thought
of it, you know.”
“Yes, I was just thinking that;” for Phil always took Ned’s opinions
second-hand as his own.
“We’ll let them in. Fan, and your Maggie, and--well, Jenny Bowler
hasn’t much nonsense about her. But none of that Symons set. No, sir!”
“No, indeed. And about the fellows?”
“Oh, of course I won’t have the Stileses or that crowd where Fan is.
Sam Bender’s all right. Fan!” beckoning with his plane to the window
and sauntering up. “Phil and I are willing to take you girls out,
Saturday. We’ve thought over the places and settled on Mt. Hale.”
“Oh, thank you, boys!” cried little Maggie.
“You can tell Jenny Bowler she may go, but nobody else, mind. You
needn’t trouble yourself about any arrangements. We’ll attend to
everything.”
“Very well,” said Fan. But she laughed to herself when they were gone,
and then hurried to write a note to “_Miss Jenny Bowler. Private and
immediate._”
Fan was the only girl alive, her father said, who never asked
questions. The time passed until Friday evening, and she had not shown
the slightest curiosity as to Ned’s arrangements, though he and Phil
went about in an exasperating state of fuss and mystery.
“We’re all ready for to-morrow,” said Ned at last.
“Provisions?” Fan looked up from her beadwork. “You know what Maggie
says of ‘our Phil’s appetite.’”
“Then our Phil’s father ought to have come to his rescue. Didn’t take
the slightest interest whatever. Wouldn’t put down a penny. However, we
managed it. We’ve got Bender’s buggy and Sharp’s old mare, and eight
pounds of crackers.”
“Is that all?”
“Why, what more do you want? The buggy’s for you girls. And we’re going
to shoot game, and catch fish for dinner. Hunters never take anything
but bread with them.”
“Oh!”
Fanny pricked away at her beads. Presently, she said gently, “Ned, if
I might advise--we girls can easily walk, and that old mare of Sharp’s
is blind and lame. You’ll find her harder to manage than a dozen tired
girls. And I really don’t think I’d bring my gun. There’s always risk
of accident with children like Maggie about.”
“I have made the arrangements, Frances. I did not, I believe, ask for
any advice.”
When Ned said Frances matters were grave indeed. Fanny was silent.
Early the next morning Sharp’s old mare, Betty, arrived, Bender’s old
buggy lumbering behind her, threatening to go to pieces at every turn.
The three girls were hoisted in with difficulty, while Ned stood up to
drive. An enormous bag of crackers lay in front--“The whole of Smith’s
stale stock,” Maggie whispered, peeping in with a wry face. Phil and
Sam marched alongside, loaded with guns and fishing-rods.
On they went from Dr. Thorpe’s door, down Church street into Main, past
the warehouses and mills. Would they never get out of town? The buggy
creaked, the old horse stumbled and puffed, and finally began to wheeze
and snort, precisely like a steam-tug. Ned’s face grew scarlet, though
he tried to laugh. The mare’s walk grew slower and slower.
“Hello, Ned! Going to a funeral?” called some boys from the sidewalk.
“Bound for the races, Ned?” shouted another. “Blooded stock there.”
He could see two gentlemen going down the pavement glance at each other
and hide a smile, and one pretty young lady laughed outright. Phil and
Sam had pushed on before, ashamed of the turnout. At last Mrs. Betty
stopped altogether, to treat herself to a comfortable wheeze in quiet.
Ned looked round in despair.
“Girls, I’m very sorry, but if you’d only get out and walk a bit, may
be I could get her out of town faster.”
Out scrambled the girls, only too glad to be released.
The end was that they walked to the top of Mt. Hale, while Betty
wheezed and puffed and balked behind. But once on the mountain top,
what was Betty or any other trouble? Mt. Hale was one of the steep
hills that overlook the Ohio. Underneath, the black, bituminous smoke
of the town drifted like a passing cloud across the broad landscape
of sunlighted, rolling hills and misty valleys. The river, yellow and
glistening, wound from one horizon to the other. Here and there a trail
of white smoke showed where a steamer lay.
But the children did not look long at river or landscape. They only
knew they were high in the air, above the rest of the world; the moss
was deep under their feet; old oaks and sycamores rose like giants
overhead; through the tangled undergrowth glowed the golden-green
paw-paws, full of luscious meat. There were miniature ponds, dark with
sumach; bushes, brooks, like glittering threads, among the rocks.
“There’s lots of minnows in those runs,” said Ned. “You try for them,
Sam, and Phil and I will bring down a squirrel or two. Broiled squirrel
will be very good for dinner;” for the boys, who had eaten no breakfast
in their excitement, began to feel, after their five miles’ walk, that
dry crackers were not so palatable as they seemed yesterday.
Betty was tied to a tree, where she could nibble at will. Ned put the
crackers in a basket and hung them on a paw-paw bush.
“Are they quite safe there?” said Maggie anxiously.
“Now what would hurt them?” cried Phil. “Boys, I believe Mag thinks
these woods are full of tigers and lions. Girls are so fussy!” in a
pitying tone, as they walked away guns in hand.
“Women,” said Ned, “are well enough in their place. But their place,
you see, is the house. They don’t somehow know how to get along out of
doors.”
Fan and Jenny had apparently a good deal to do out of doors. There
were paw-paws to gather, and moss, and roots, and ferns for their
herbariums, and then they sat down and began some weighty school
secrets, having established Maggie out of hearing in a doll’s house at
the root of a tree. Now and then, the whiz of a gun would be heard,
but the sun crept overhead and began to go down on the other side, and
the boys did not appear.
“I am so hungry!” cried Maggie, with a little sob.
“So are we,” said a voice behind her, and Sam Bender came up. “Where
are the girls, Maggie?”
“I don’t know. They’ve been gone half an hour. It’s awfully lonely
here. Where’s your fish, Sam?”
“Yes, where’s your fish, Sam?” shouted Ned, coming with Phil through the
thicket. The boys were a little boisterous, as if they wanted to cover
some uneasiness.
“Well, the fact is, I haven’t any. Plague on the minnows! they’d shy
at the bait, do what I would. But minnows are poor eating for a hungry
man, and here are six of us,” for by that time the two girls came
strolling up from the hollow, loaded with moss.
“Where’s the game, boys? I’m a good hand at skinning a squirrel.”
Ned looked at Phil, and Phil stared after a bird that was flying past.
“I hadn’t a single chance for a good shot, to-day,” growled the latter
hunter.
“I nearly winged two,” said Ned, “and I just grazed a fellow going into
his hole--hit the top of his tail. It was as pretty a shot as ever I
saw.”
“Do you mean,” said Sam, “that you’ve shot nothing--nothing at all?”
Phil gave a foolish laugh.
“That’s about it,” said Ned.
There was a dead silence. Then poor little Maggie began to sob. “I’m
as hungry as ever was, and we’re here in this big forest, and Betty
can’t take us home, and we’ll die of starvation. I eated just one bun
for my breakfast this morning. A girl can’t live forever on one bun.”
“It’s this gun,” said Ned, giving it a vicious shake. “Nobody could
have aimed better than I did!”
“Look there!” screamed Jenny. They all turned in dismay, to see an
enormous pig dashing through the bushes, the cracker basket around her
neck like a necklace, munching as she ran, while a napkin streamed out
of one side of her jaws, and the cracker bag out of the other. The boys
gave chase, shouting and flinging stones, but the harder they ran, the
more recklessly the triumphant hog threw herself headlong through bush
and brake. They gave up at last, and came back.
“Well, there’s an end of the last chance,” said Ned.
“There are plenty of paw-paws,” suggested Fan.
“The very thought of them sickens me. The only thing left is to go home
as fast as possible. It’s a miserable end to the day.”
“I think,” said Fan, trying to keep a laugh out of her face, “I think I
see a smoke. Come and let us see if it is a troop of wandering Indians
with buffalo meat. Who knows, Maggie?”
Down through the bushes they rushed, over the brook, round the high
peak of the hill. There, in a sheltered little cove made by the rocks
was a glorious wood fire, a great heap of delicious biscuits well
buttered, a steaming pot of coffee, cold chicken.
“And here is beef to frizzle, and two slices of ham to broil,” said
Fan, talking very fast, her cheeks red as roses, and her eyes bright.
“Get two forked sticks, boys, so,” placing it in their awkward fingers.
“Isn’t it splendid?”
Phil and Sam gave a tremendous cheer that made the woods ring. Maggie
joined in with her shrill little pipe, and jumped like a crazy child.
But Ned was very quiet.
“These are mother’s biscuits. How did you bring the things, Fan?” he
said.
“In the seat of the buggy.”
“How good they are!”
Never did any meal taste like that one, though the ham was scorched
and the beef was fairly burned. They did not leave a crumb nor a bit
of meat, though Maggie pleaded hard for the little birds. She had not
exaggerated the appetite of “our Phil,” and to tell the truth the
others were quite his equals.
The girls walked home, I am ashamed to say.
The road was steep, and made of slippery clay.
The buggy perpetually ran down on Betty’s heels, and such were her
asthmatic puffs and snorts, that the boys declared the people living on
the mountain would fancy a steamer had missed its way, and was scaling
the height. Ned and Phil both had to hold her head to bring her down in
safety; and it was quite dark before they reached the town. But nobody
could now mistake the procession for a funeral.
“I never had more fun in my life,” said Sam.
“Nor such a dinner!” responded Phil. “Ned, what d’ye say to going again
some Saturday--soon?”
“All right! But”--lowering his voice--“let’s leave the girls to manage.
There’s more in girls than I thought”--reflectively--“but it wouldn’t
do to tell them so.”
THE LEATHER HARNESS.
Along the banks of the blue Connecticut were dotted the substantial
white houses, and the graceful elms of the village of Hadley--an old
town now, and almost hidden out of sight by the stately sweep of the
great elm branches; but then scarcely beyond the age of a “settlement,”
and content with ways and goings that we should call very primitive.
But the houses, standing to this day, show by their solid square walls
and gamble roofs and handsome finishings within, that their owners felt
they had a dignity to preserve, even though working their fortunes out
of colonial soil, almost beyond the reach of the king’s benediction.
And the great waving seas of broomcorn and tobacco, rising and falling
on every August breeze to-day, tell us what those fortunes may have
grown to be; or rather, how full the cellars and granaries must have
been; for the purses were not so easily swelled.
There was little money in circulation, and little market for what their
famous “meadow-land” produced; but what of that? Everything that the
palate could desire was stored in abundance in the house; and there was
goose every day for dinner, if one could judge from the flocks that
hissed across the greensward between the double row of elms along the
street. And under every roof was a loom where the thrifty housewife
fitted out her family with homespun suits in which stately gentlemen
were quite content to follow everyday vocations. “Boughten suits”
of cloth purchased at the store, were reserved for solemn and grand
occasions and for the more ordinary wear of the great dignitaries of
the town--the minister, the squire and the high sheriff of the county.
And what that dignity, particularly as embodied in the minister, really
was, boys growing up in modern days can never fully comprehend; they
can only listen to stories they hear their fathers and uncles, or
great-uncles telling among themselves, just as they listen to the tales
of encounter with painted Indians. No such thing nowadays; gone forever.
Imagine a set of boys wild with the excitement of their games, tumbling
over or racing past each other, pell mell, helter skelter, like mad,
when, at a muffled cry from one of them, “There comes the minister!”
the whole troop are suddenly transfixed, stand for an instant as if
struck by a thunderbolt, and then falling into ranks wait motionless,
hat in hand, until that embodiment of sacred truth in gown and bands
has passed them by!
But Parson Hopkins, though he knew how to preserve his dignity, and
could look stern enough on Sunday when teaching those very boys how
very far they were from keeping a perfect law, had enough of the
true spirit of his Master hidden behind those stiff white bands to
kindle a good many sparks of sympathy with all that interested
them. A tradition is handed down of his even having been seen on the
greensward, gown and all, playing the best bat in all their game of
ball. Be that as it may, he had two boys of his own, who played him a
trick that is repeated on their parents by boys of this generation;
that is to say, they grew up rapidly and before he realized the fact
stood head and shoulders above him; Nathan was within a week of being
twenty-one, and John a year behind him.
When this crisis had arrived, the old gentleman summoned Nathan to his
study, an event which would once have seemed to him of awful solemnity,
and even now, that he felt himself within one week of being a man, wore
an aspect most thoroughly to be respected.
His father, in a dark-green gown of ample folds, sat behind his study
table; a sermon on the inalienable gift of free will lay half completed
before him, a freshly starched neck band had been put on for the
occasion, and his light hair combed directly toward his nose and square
cut across the middle of his forehead, showed respect for the occasion
by the smoothness with which it lay upon his reverend head.
“Nathan,” he said, “a few days will bring you to that age when a man
is expected to take a position of his own, and begin to make way for
himself in the world. You have been a dutiful son, Nathan, and I wish
to give you as handsome an outfit as lies in my power. There is a deed
of three acres of my meadow land, and I shall add to it a freedom suit
of ‘boughten’ cloth and a leather harness. If I abounded more largely
in worldly goods, I could rejoice for your sake; but I give you what
I can and you must make of it what you can. And you may be sure my
blessing goes with it.”
The old gentleman reached his hand toward his son, who had remained
standing all this time, for young people in those days never ventured
to sit in the presence of their parents unless invited. The grasp was
warm and strong, but was also a signal that Nathan was dismissed; and
having thanked his father as properly as he knew how, he closed the
door and descended the stairs with all the speed his new grandeur would
permit.
A “boughten suit,” and a leather harness.
And himself a man, dismissed affectionately from his father’s care to
see what kind of a show he could make for himself in the world with
three acres of meadow land as a foundation. He met his brother John as
he reached the hall, but passed him with very little notice. A dignity
like his must be considered by all parties.
But the year that was to make a man of John also whirled quickly round,
and he, in his turn, was summoned to that solemn place of audience, the
study.
“John,” said his father, “I wish to do as well by you as I did by
Nathan, and would gladly have done better by you both. Your freedom
suit shall be of ‘boughten cloth’ like his, you shall have a leather
harness and here is a deed for the meadow land, as fine a piece as
his. And may you do well with it, my boy. It is only a beginning, but
that is all a young man needs. We will see what you will work out for
yourself.”
John had been standing at a respectful distance from his father,
listening to what he said with a gaze fixed upon the floor. Now he
raised his head, and looked at the parson with an earnest face and
frank, honest eyes.
“Father,” he said bluntly, “you are very kind, and I trust I shall
always prove a grateful and dutiful son. But I don’t want a ‘boughten
suit’ and a leather harness. I don’t want anything I may have to
_come down from_. A rope harness is good enough for me, and so is the
homespun I have worn all my life. If I am able to work my way up from
them to something better that I have earned for myself, why then I can
wear it and feel like a man; but if I begin with fine feathers only to
drop them out, or draggle them in the mud, I shall cut a sorry figure
by and by.”
For a moment the reverend face was betrayed into an expression of
surprise, but it was quickly followed by another of hearty approval.
“Take your own way then, my son,” he said; “it is a good principle
to start upon. Only add to it the fear of God and the love of your
neighbor, and I shall live to see you all I could desire.”
A few days later John might have been seen setting resolutely forth
on his first visit to his new farm, for the planting season was just
coming on, and the broad meadows, stretching up and down the river
without a fence to mar them, were dotted everywhere with carts and
plows, horses and busy farmers, passing up and down the long furrows
with merry sounds.
As he walked sturdily beside his horse he met his brother, mounted in
his cart, driving in the opposite direction, and greeted him with a
cordial smile, which, was returned only by a contemptuous glance at the
rope harness.
“You think I am a great fool, don’t you?” said John, laughing
good-naturedly.
“Well, I don’t know that I should say that?” replied Nathan rather
coldly, “but I don’t agree with you. Take all you can get in this
world; that’s my principle.”
“And precisely what I mean to do,” said John, “but the first thing is
_to get it_. Taking what is given you when you are not sure you can
hold on to it, I don’t like as well. But wait a minute, though; there’s
a bit of rope caught in your harness, let me pull it off for you.”
“No, no,” said Nathan, “it’s a piece I put in there. You see that strap
wore out and I couldn’t very well have it replaced, so I worked in a
bit of rope instead. It draws just the same.”
“A pity, though,” said John; “it doesn’t look as well as leather. But I
must get to my work. Good-morning and success to you.”
He plodded on, and so did time and seasons; and meanwhile the two
brothers worked, not only their farms but their principles.
Nathan’s, if he had condescended to extend his remarks in the meadows,
would have been not only “Take what you can get,” but “don’t trouble
yourself too much about getting it. Make a good appearance in the
world, and trust to things coming to you without too much hard work;”
while John’s “Yes, but the first thing is to get it,” meant also, “if
you have your way to make in the world, go to work and make it. Don’t
despise humble beginnings, but aim at something higher. Don’t stand
with your gun on your shoulder either, but fire, and whatever you
fairly bring down pick up and enjoy it.”
The next spring the brothers met again, but the bit of rope in Nathan’s
harness had multiplied into three or four.
“How does your harness wear?” he asked. “Mine breaks away, here and
there, and as I did not realize all I hoped on my crops last year I
feel a little pinched, and have mended it as I could.”
“Seems to me rather soon for a leather harness to be giving out if it
is well taken care of,” said John. “I found mine getting a little weak
in one place and I put in a leather strap. I thought that would be the
best economy in the end.”
So things went on, and before very long Nathan’s splicings of rope grew
more and more apparent, while as one portion after another of John’s
harness became worn it was quietly replaced by a similar one of leather
until the neighbors could not help noticing that the original leather
harness was becoming rapidly transformed into one of rope, while John’s
more humble outfit assumed, gradually but steadily, a more substantial
character.
The “boughten suit,” also, refused to meet the wear and tear of life
without a protest, and one darn after another appeared, until at last a
patch of homespun seemed the only resort, and after that final disgrace
the whole was dropped off, and a substitute from a home loom, and
rather coarser than usual, took its place.
John worked steadily on, and with industry and his new harness in
a few years had laid up capital enough to buy a partnership in the
village store. The partnership soon became an ownership, and village
store-keeping being profitable John one day found himself able to
gather up his possessions and invest them in a fine business in Boston.
And the day came when with “boughten” clothes of the most gentlemanly
cut the city could afford, and with his own horses and carriage, he
came to make his native town a visit, and to find that Nathan and all
his affairs had been growing more and more _ropy_ all the while.
“Take all you can get honestly in this world, brother,” said John, with
the old frank smile; “a pretty good rule _sometimes_, especially just
now,” and he slipped into his hand a check for a thousand dollars, with
which Nathan was very happy to pay off the mortgage on his farm, buy a
new harness, and make himself more comfortable in several ways.
Which way do _you_ think the best, in taking all you can get?
THE END.
A. L. BURT’S PUBLICATIONS
For Young People
BY POPULAR WRITERS,
97-99-101 Reade Street, New York.
=Bonnie Prince Charlie=: A Tale of Fontenoy and Culloden. By +G. A.
Henty+. With 12 full-page Illustrations by +Gordon Browne+. 12mo,
cloth, price $1.00.
The adventures of the son of a Scotch officer in French service. The
boy, brought up by a Glasgow bailie, is arrested for aiding a Jacobite
agent, escapes, is wrecked on the French coast, reaches Paris, and
serves with the French army at Dettingen. He kills his father’s foe
in a duel, and escaping to the coast, shares the adventures of Prince
Charlie, but finally settles happily in Scotland.
“Ronald, the hero, is very like the hero of ‘Quentin Durward.’ The
lad’s journey across France, and his hairbreadth escapes, make up
as good a narrative of the kind as we have ever read. For freshness
of treatment and variety of incident Mr. Henty has surpassed
himself.”--_Spectator._
=With Clive in India=; or, the Beginnings of an Empire. By +G. A.
Henty+. With 12 full-page Illustrations by +Gordon Browne+. 12mo,
cloth, price $1.00.
The period between the landing of Clive as a young writer in India and
the close of his career was critical and eventful in the extreme. At
its commencement the English were traders existing on sufferance of
the native princes. At its close they were masters of Bengal and of
the greater part of Southern India. The author has given a full and
accurate account of the events of that stirring time, and battles and
sieges follow each other in rapid succession, while he combines with
his narrative a tale of daring and adventure, which gives a lifelike
interest to the volume.
“He has taken a period of Indian history of the most vital
importance, and he has embroidered on the historical facts a story
which of itself is deeply interesting. Young people assuredly will be
delighted with the volume.”--_Scotsman._
=The Lion of the North=: A Tale of Gustavus Adolphus and the Wars of
Religion. By +G. A. Henty+. With full-page Illustrations by +John
Schönberg+. 12mo, cloth, price $1.00.
In this story Mr. Henty gives the history of the first part of the
Thirty Years’ War. The issue had its importance, which has extended
to the present day, as it established religious freedom in Germany.
The army of the chivalrous king of Sweden was largely composed of
Scotchmen, and among these was the hero of the story.
“The tale is a clever and instructive piece of history, and as boys
may be trusted to read it conscientiously, they can hardly fail to be
profited.”--_Times._
=The Dragon and the Raven=; or, The Days of King Alfred. By +G. A.
Henty+. With full-page Illustrations by +C. J. Staniland+, R.I.
12mo, cloth, price $1.00.
In this story the author gives an account of the fierce struggle
between Saxon and Dane for supremacy in England, and presents a vivid
picture of the misery and ruin to which the country was reduced by the
ravages of the sea-wolves. The hero, a young Saxon thane, takes part
in all the battles fought by King Alfred. He is driven from his home,
takes to the sea and resists the Danes on their own element, and being
pursued by them up the Seine, is present at the long and desperate
siege of Paris.
“Treated in a manner most attractive to the boyish
reader.”--_Athenæum._
=The Young Carthaginian=: A Story of the Times of Hannibal. By +G.
A. Henty+. With full-page Illustrations by +C. J. Staniland+, R.I.
12mo, cloth, price $1.00.
Boys reading the history of the Punic Wars have seldom a keen
appreciation of the merits of the contest. That it was at first a
struggle for empire, and afterward for existence on the part of
Carthage, that Hannibal was a great and skillful general, that he
defeated the Romans at Trebia, Lake Trasimenus, and Cannæ, and all but
took Rome, represents pretty nearly the sum total of their knowledge.
To let them know more about this momentous struggle for the empire of
the world Mr. Henty has written this story, which not only gives in
graphic style a brilliant description of a most interesting period
of history, but is a tale of exciting adventure sure to secure the
interest of the reader.
“Well constructed and vividly told. From first to last nothing stays
the interest of the narrative. It bears us along as on a stream whose
current varies in direction, but never loses its force.”--_Saturday
Review._
=In Freedom’s Cause=: A Story of Wallace and Bruce. By +G. A. Henty+.
With full-page Illustrations by +Gordon Browne+. 12mo, cloth, price
$1.00.
In this story the author relates the stirring tale of the Scottish
War of Independence. The extraordinary valor and personal prowess of
Wallace and Bruce rival the deeds of the mythical heroes of chivalry,
and indeed at one time Wallace was ranked with these legendary
personages. The researches of modern historians have shown, however,
that he was a living, breathing man--and a valiant champion. The
hero of the tale fought under both Wallace and Bruce, and while the
strictest historical accuracy has been maintained with respect to
public events, the work is full of “hairbreadth ’scapes” and wild
adventure.
“It is written in the author’s best style. Full of the wildest and
most remarkable achievements, it is a tale of great interest, which a
boy, once he has begun it, will not willingly put on one side.”--_The
Schoolmaster._
=With Lee in Virginia=: A Story of the American Civil War. By +G.
A. Henty+. With full-page Illustrations by +Gordon Browne+. 12mo,
cloth, price $1.00.
The story of a young Virginian planter, who, after bravely proving his
sympathy with the slaves of brutal masters, serves with no less courage
and enthusiasm under Lee and Jackson through the most exciting events
of the struggle. He has many hairbreadth escapes, is several times
wounded and twice taken prisoner; but his courage and readiness and, in
two cases, the devotion of a black servant and of a runaway slave whom
he had assisted, bring him safely through all difficulties.
“One of the best stories for lads which Mr. Henty has yet written.
The picture is full of life and color, and the stirring and romantic
incidents are skillfully blended with the personal interest and charm
of the story.”--_Standard._
=By England’s Aid=; or, The Freeing of the Netherlands (1585-1604). By
+G. A. Henty+. With full-page Illustrations by +Alfred Pearse+, and
Maps. 12mo, cloth, price $1.00.
The story of two English lads who go to Holland as pages in the service
of one of “the fighting Veres.” After many adventures by sea and land,
one of the lads finds himself on board a Spanish ship at the time of
the defeat of the Armada, and escapes only to fall into the hands of
the Corsairs. He is successful in getting back to Spain under the
protection of a wealthy merchant, and regains his native country after
the capture of Cadiz.
“It is an admirable book for youngsters. It overflows with stirring
incident and exciting adventure, and the color of the era and of
the scene are finely reproduced. The illustrations add to its
attractiveness.”--_Boston Gazette._
=By Right of Conquest=; or, With Cortez in Mexico. By +G. A. Henty+.
With full-page Illustrations by +W. S. Stacey+, and Two Maps. 12mo,
cloth, price $1.50.
The conquest of Mexico by a small band of resolute men under the
magnificent leadership of Cortez is always rightly ranked among
the most romantic and daring exploits in history. With this as the
groundwork of his story Mr. Henty has interwoven the adventures of
an English youth, Roger Hawkshaw, the sole survivor of the good ship
Swan, which had sailed from a Devon port to challenge the mercantile
supremacy of the Spaniards in the New World. He is beset by many perils
among the natives, but is saved by his own judgment and strength, and
by the devotion of an Aztec princess. At last by a ruse he obtains the
protection of the Spaniards, and after the fall of Mexico he succeeds
in regaining his native shore, with a fortune and a charming Aztec
bride.
“‘By Right of Conquest’ is the nearest approach to a
perfectly successful historical tale that Mr. Henty has yet
published.”--_Academy._
=In the Reign of Terror=: The Adventures of a Westminster Boy. By +G.
A. Henty+. With full-page Illustrations by +J. Schönberg+. 12mo,
cloth, price $1.00.
Harry Sandwith, a Westminster boy, becomes a resident at the chateau
of a French marquis, and after various adventures accompanies the
family to Paris at the crisis of the Revolution. Imprisonment and death
reduce their number, and the hero finds himself beset by perils with
the three young daughters of the house in his charge. After hairbreadth
escapes they reach Nantes. There the girls are condemned to death in
the coffin-ships, but are saved by the unfailing courage of their boy
protector.
“Harry Sandwith, the Westminster boy, may fairly be said to beat
Mr. Henty’s record. His adventures will delight boys by the
audacity and peril they depict.... The story is one of Mr. Henty’s
best.”--_Saturday Review._
=With Wolfe in Canada=; or, The Winning of a Continent. By +G. A.
Henty+. With full-page Illustrations by +Gordon Browne+. 12mo,
cloth, price $1.00.
In the present volume Mr. Henty gives an account of the struggle
between Britain and France for supremacy in the North American
continent. On the issue of this war depended not only the destinies
of North America, but to a large extent those of the mother countries
themselves. The fall of Quebec decided that the Anglo-Saxon race should
predominate in the New World; that Britain, and not France, should take
the lead among the nations of Europe; and that English and American
commerce, the English language, and English literature, should spread
right round the globe.
“It is not only a lesson in history as instructively as it is
graphically told, but also a deeply interesting and often thrilling
tale of adventure and peril by flood and field.”--_Illustrated London
News._
=True to the Old Flag=: A Tale of the American War of Independence.
By +G. A. Henty+. With full-page Illustrations by +Gordon Browne+.
12mo, cloth, price $1.00.
In this story the author has gone to the accounts of officers who
took part in the conflict, and lads will find that in no war in which
American and British soldiers have been engaged did they behave with
greater courage and good conduct. The historical portion of the book
being accompanied with numerous thrilling adventures with the redskins
on the shores of Lake Huron, a story of exciting interest is interwoven
with the general narrative and carried through the book.
“Does justice to the pluck and determination of the British soldiers
during the unfortunate struggle against American emancipation. The
son of an American loyalist, who remains true to our flag, falls
among the hostile redskins in that very Huron country which has been
endeared to us by the exploits of Hawkeye and Chingachgook.”--_The
Times._
=The Lion of St. Mark=: A Tale of Venice in the Fourteenth Century.
By +G. A. Henty+. With full-page Illustrations by +Gordon Browne+.
12mo, cloth, price $1.00.
A story of Venice at a period when her strength and splendor were put
to the severest tests. The hero displays a fine sense and manliness
which carry him safely through an atmosphere of intrigue, crime, and
bloodshed. He contributes largely to the victories of the Venetians at
Porto d’Anzo and Chioggia, and finally wins the hand of the daughter of
one of the chief men of Venice.
“Every boy should read ‘The Lion of St. Mark.’ Mr. Henty has
never produced a story more delightful, more wholesome, or more
vivacious.”--_Saturday Review._
=A Final Reckoning=: A Tale of Bush Life in Australia. By +G. A.
Henty+. With full-page Illustrations by +W. B. Wollen+. 12mo, cloth,
price $1.00.
The hero, a young English lad, after rather a stormy boyhood, emigrates
to Australia, and gets employment as an officer in the mounted police.
A few years of active work on the frontier, where he has many a brush
with both natives and bushrangers, gain him promotion to a captaincy,
and he eventually settles down to the peaceful life of a squatter.
“Mr. Henty has never published a more readable, a more carefully
constructed, or a better written story than this.”--_Spectator._
=Under Drake’s Flag=: A Tale of the Spanish Main. By +G. A. Henty+.
With full-page Illustrations by +Gordon Browne+. 12mo, cloth, price
$1.00.
A story of the days when England and Spain struggled for the supremacy
of the sea. The heroes sail as lads with Drake in the Pacific
expedition, and in his great voyage of circumnavigation. The historical
portion of the story is absolutely to be relied upon, but this will
perhaps be less attractive than the great variety of exciting adventure
through which the young heroes pass in the course of their voyages.
“A book of adventure, where the hero meets with experience enough,
one would think, to turn his hair gray.”--_Harper’s Monthly Magazine._
=By Sheer Pluck=: A Tale of the Ashanti War. By +G. A. Henty+. With
full-page Illustrations by +Gordon Browne+. 12mo, cloth, price $1.00.
The author has woven, in a tale of thrilling interest, all the details
of the Ashanti campaign, of which he was himself a witness. His hero,
after many exciting adventures in the interior, is detained a prisoner
by the king just before the outbreak of the war, but escapes, and
accompanies the English expedition on their march to Coomassie.
“Mr. Henty keeps up his reputation as a writer of boys’ stories. ‘By
Sheer Pluck’ will be eagerly read.”--_Athenæum._
=By Pike and Dyke=: A Tale of the Rise of the Dutch Republic. By +G.
A. Henty+. With full-page Illustrations by +Maynard Brown+, and 4
Maps. 12mo, cloth, price $1.00.
In this story Mr. Henty traces the adventures and brave deeds of an
English boy in the household of the ablest man of his age--William the
Silent. Edward Martin, the son of an English sea-captain, enters the
service of the Prince as a volunteer, and is employed by him in many
dangerous and responsible missions, in the discharge of which he passes
through the great sieges of the time. He ultimately settles down as Sir
Edward Martin.
“Boys with a turn for historical research will be enchanted with the
book, while the rest who only care for adventure will be students in
spite of themselves.”--_St. James’ Gazette._
=St. George for England=: A Tale of Cressy and Poitiers. By +G. A.
Henty+. With full-page Illustrations by +Gordon Browne+. 12mo,
cloth, price $1.00.
No portion of English history is more crowded with great events than
that of the reign of Edward III. Cressy and Poitiers; the destruction
of the Spanish fleet; the plague of the Black Death; the Jacquerie
rising; these are treated by the author in “St. George for England.”
The hero of the story, although of good family, begins life as a London
apprentice, but after countless adventures and perils becomes by valor
and good conduct the squire, and at last the trusted friend of the
Black Prince.
“Mr. Henty has developed for himself a type of historical novel for
boys which bids fair to supplement, on their behalf, the historical
labors of Sir Walter Scott in the land of fiction.”--_The Standard._
=Captain’s Kidd’s Gold=: The True Story of an Adventurous Sailor Boy.
By +James Franklin Fitts+. 12mo, cloth, price $1.00.
There is something fascinating to the average youth in the very
idea of buried treasure. A vision arises before his eyes of swarthy
Portuguese and Spanish rascals, with black beards and gleaming
eyes--sinister-looking fellows who once on a time haunted the Spanish
Main, sneaking out from some hidden creek in their long, low schooner,
of picaroonish rake and sheer, to attack an unsuspecting trading
craft. There were many famous sea rovers in their day, but none more
celebrated than Capt. Kidd. Perhaps the most fascinating tale of all is
Mr. Fitts’ true story of an adventurous American boy, who receives from
his dying father an ancient bit of vellum, which the latter obtained
in a curious way. The document bears obscure directions purporting
to locate a certain island in the Bahama group, and a considerable
treasure buried there by two of Kidd’s crew. The hero of this book,
Paul Jones Garry, is an ambitious, persevering lad, of salt-water New
England ancestry, and his efforts to reach the island and Secure the
money form one of the most absorbing tales for our youth that has come
from the press.
=Captain Bayley’s Heir=: A Tale of the Gold Fields of California. By
+G. A. Henty+. With full-page Illustrations by +H. M. Paget+. 12mo,
cloth, price $1.00.
A frank, manly lad and his cousin are rivals in the heirship of a
considerable property. The former falls into a trap laid by the latter,
and while under a false accusation of theft foolishly leaves England
for America. He works his passage before the mast, joins a small band
of hunters, crosses a tract of country infested with Indians to the
Californian gold diggings, and is successful both as digger and trader.
“Mr. Henty is careful to mingle instruction with entertainment;
and the humorous touches, especially in the sketch of John Holl,
the Westminster dustman, Dickens himself could hardly have
excelled.”--_Christian Leader._
=For Name and Fame=; or, Through Afghan Passes. By +G. A. Henty+. With
full-page Illustrations by +Gordon Browne+. 12mo, cloth, price $1.00.
An interesting story of the last war in Afghanistan. The hero, after
being wrecked and going through many stirring adventures among the
Malays, finds his way to Calcutta and enlists in a regiment proceeding
to join the army at the Afghan passes. He accompanies the force under
General Roberts to the Peiwar Kotal, is wounded, taken prisoner,
carried to Cabul, whence he is transferred to Candahar, and takes part
in the final defeat of the army of Ayoub Khan.
“The best feature of the book--apart from the interest of its scenes
of adventure--is its honest effort to do justice to the patriotism of
the Afghan people.”--_Daily News._
=Captured by Apes=: The Wonderful Adventures of a Young Animal
Trainer. By +Harry Prentice+. 12mo, cloth, $1.00.
The scene of this tale is laid on an island in the Malay Archipelago.
Philip Garland, a young animal collector and trainer, of New York, sets
sail for Eastern seas in quest of a new stock of living curiosities.
The vessel is wrecked off the coast of Borneo and young Garland, the
sole survivor of the disaster, is cast ashore on a small island, and
captured by the apes that overrun the place. The lad discovers that the
ruling spirit of the monkey tribe is a gigantic and vicious baboon,
whom he identifies as Goliah, an animal at one time in his possession
and with whose instruction he had been especially diligent. The brute
recognizes him, and with a kind of malignant satisfaction puts his
former master through the same course of training he had himself
experienced with a faithfulness of detail which shows how astonishing
is monkey recollection. Very novel indeed is the way by which the young
man escapes death. Mr. Prentice has certainly worked a new vein on
juvenile fiction, and the ability with which he handles a difficult
subject stamps him as a writer of undoubted skill.
=The Bravest of the Brave=; or, With Peterborough in Spain. By +G. A.
Henty+. With full-page Illustrations by +H. M. Paget+. 12mo, cloth,
price $1.00.
There are few great leaders whose lives and actions have so completely
fallen into oblivion as those of the Earl of Peterborough. This is
largely due to the fact that they were overshadowed by the glory and
successes of Marlborough. His career as general extended over little
more than a year, and yet, in that time, he showed a genius for warfare
which has never been surpassed.
“Mr. Henty never loses sight of the moral purpose of his work--to
enforce the doctrine of courage and truth. Lads will read ‘The
Bravest of the Brave’ with pleasure and profit; of that we are quite
sure.”--_Daily Telegraph._
=The Cat of Bubastes=: A Story of Ancient Egypt. By +G. A. Henty+.
With full-page Illustrations. 12mo, cloth, price $1.00.
A story which will give young readers an unsurpassed insight into the
customs of the Egyptian people. Amuba, a prince of the Rebu nation, is
carried with his charioteer Jethro into slavery. They become inmates
of the house of Ameres, the Egyptian high-priest, and are happy in his
service until the priest’s son accidentally kills the sacred cat of
Bubastes. In an outburst of popular fury Ameres is killed, and it rests
with Jethro and Amuba to secure the escape of the high-priest’s son and
daughter.
“The story, from the critical moment of the killing of the sacred
cat to the perilous exodus into Asia with which it closes, is very
skillfully constructed and full of exciting adventures. It is
admirably illustrated.”--_Saturday Review._
=With Washington at Monmouth=: A Story of Three Philadelphia Boys. By
+James Otis+. 12mo, cloth, price $1.00.
Three Philadelphia boys, Seth Graydon “whose mother conducted a
boarding-house which was patronized by the British officers;” Enoch
Ball, “son of that Mrs. Ball whose dancing school was situated on
Letitia Street,” and little Jacob, son of “Chris, the Baker,” serve
as the principal characters. The story is laid during the winter when
Lord Howe held possession of the city, and the lads aid the cause by
assisting the American spies who make regular and frequent visits from
Valley Forge. One reads here of home-life in the captive city when
bread was scarce among the people of the lower classes, and a reckless
prodigality shown by the British officers, who passed the winter in
feasting and merry-making while the members of the patriot army but
a few miles away were suffering from both cold and hunger. The story
abounds with pictures of Colonial life skillfully drawn, and the
glimpses of Washington’s soldiers which are given show that the work
has not been hastily done, or without considerable study.
=For the Temple=: A Tale of the Fall of Jerusalem. By +G. A. Henty+.
With full-page Illustrations by +S. J. Solomon+. 12mo, cloth, price
$1.00.
Mr. Henty here weaves into the record of Josephus an admirable and
attractive story. The troubles in the district of Tiberias, the
march of the legions, the sieges of Jotapata, of Gamala, and of
Jerusalem, form the impressive and carefully studied historic setting
to the figure of the lad who passes from the vineyard to the service
of Josephus, becomes the leader of a guerrilla band of patriots,
fights bravely for the Temple, and after a brief term of slavery at
Alexandria, returns to his Galilean home with the favor of Titus.
“Mr. Henty’s graphic prose pictures of the hopeless Jewish resistance
to Roman sway add another leaf to his record of the famous wars of
the world.”--_Graphic._
=Facing Death=; or, The Hero of the Vaughan Pit. A Tale of the Coal
Mines. By +G. A. Henty+. With full-page Illustrations by +Gordon
Browne+. 12mo, cloth, price $1.00.
“Facing Death” is a story with a purpose. It is intended to show that
a lad who makes up his mind firmly and resolutely that he will rise
in life, and who is prepared to face toil and ridicule and hardship
to carry out his determination, is sure to succeed. The hero of the
story is a typical British boy, dogged, earnest, generous, and though
“shamefaced” to a degree, is ready to face death in the discharge of
duty.
“The tale is well written and well illustrated, and there is much
reality in the characters. If any father, clergyman, or schoolmaster
is on the lookout for a good book to give as a present to a boy who
is worth his salt, this is the book we would recommend.”--_Standard._
=Tom Temple’s Career.= By +Horatio Alger+. 12mo, cloth, price $1.00.
Tom Temple, a bright, self-reliant lad, by the death of his father
becomes a boarder at the home of Nathan Middleton, a penurious
insurance agent. Though well paid for keeping the boy, Nathan and his
wife endeavor to bring Master Tom in line with their parsimonious
habits. The lad ingeniously evades their efforts and revolutionizes the
household. As Tom is heir to $40,000, he is regarded as a person of
some importance until by an unfortunate combination of circumstances
his fortune shrinks to a few hundreds. He leaves Plympton village to
seek work in New York, whence he undertakes an important mission to
California, around which center the most exciting incidents of his
young career. Some of his adventures in the far west are so startling
that the reader will scarcely close the book until the last page shall
have been reached. The tale is written in Mr. Alger’s most fascinating
style, and is bound to please the very large class of boys who regard
this popular author as a prime favorite.
=Maori and Settler=: A Story of the New Zealand War. By +G. A. Henty+.
With full-page Illustrations by +Alfred Pearse+. 12mo, cloth, price
$1.00.
The Renshaws emigrate to New Zealand during the period of the war
with the natives. Wilfrid, a strong, self-reliant, courageous lad, is
the mainstay of the household. He has for his friend Mr. Atherton, a
botanist and naturalist of herculean strength and unfailing nerve and
humor. In the adventures among the Maoris, there are many breathless
moments in which the odds seem hopelessly against the party, but they
succeed in establishing themselves happily in one of the pleasant New
Zealand valleys.
“Brimful of adventure, of humorous and interesting conversation, and
vivid pictures of colonial life.”--_Schoolmaster._
=Julian Mortimer=: A Brave Boy’s Struggle for Home and Fortune. By
+Harry Castlemon+. 12mo, cloth, price $1.00.
Here is a story that will warm every boy’s heart. There is mystery
enough to keep any lad’s imagination wound up to the highest pitch.
The scene of the story lies west of the Mississippi River, in the days
when emigrants made their perilous way across the great plains to the
land of gold. One of the startling features of the book is the attack
upon the wagon train by a large party of Indians. Our hero is a lad
of uncommon nerve and pluck, a brave young American in every sense of
the word. He enlists and holds the reader’s sympathy from the outset.
Surrounded by an unknown and constant peril, and assisted by the
unswerving fidelity of a stalwart trapper, a real rough diamond, our
hero achieves the most happy results. Harry Castlemon has written many
entertaining stories for boys, and it would seem almost superfluous to
say anything in his praise, for the youth of America regard him as a
favorite author.
“=Carrots=:” Just a Little Boy. By +Mrs. Molesworth+. With
Illustrations by +Walter Crane+. 12mo, cloth, price 75 cents.
“One of the cleverest and most pleasing stories it has been our
good fortune to meet with for some time. Carrots and his sister are
delightful little beings, whom to read about is at once to become
very fond of.”--_Examiner._
“A genuine children’s book; we’ve seen ’em seize it, and read it
greedily. Children are first-rate critics, and thoroughly appreciate
Walter Crane’s illustrations.”--_Punch._
=Mopsa the Fairy.= By +Jean Ingelow+. With Eight page Illustrations.
12mo, cloth, price 75 cents.
“Mrs. Ingelow is, to our mind, the most charming of all living
writers for children, and ‘Mopsa’ alone ought to give her a kind of
pre-emptive right to the love and gratitude of our young folks. It
requires genius to conceive a purely imaginary work which must of
necessity deal with the supernatural, without running into a mere
riot of fantastic absurdity; but genius Miss Ingelow has and the
story of ‘Jack’ is as careless and joyous, but as delicate, as a
picture of childhood.”--_Eclectic._
=A Jaunt Through Java=: The Story of a Journey to the Sacred Mountain.
By +Edward S. Ellis+. 12mo, cloth, price $1.00.
The central interest of this story is found in the thrilling adventures
of two cousins, Hermon and Eustace Hadley, on their trip across the
island of Java, from Samarang to the Sacred Mountain. In a land where
the Royal Bengal tiger runs at large; where the rhinoceros and other
fierce beasts are to be met with at unexpected moments; it is but
natural that the heroes of this book should have a lively experience.
Hermon not only distinguishes himself by killing a full-grown tiger
at short range, but meets with the most startling adventure of the
journey. There is much in this narrative to instruct as well as
entertain the reader, and so deftly has Mr. Ellis used his material
that there is not a dull page in the book. The two heroes are brave,
manly young fellows, bubbling over with boyish independence. They cope
with the many difficulties that arise during the trip in a fearless way
that is bound to win the admiration of every lad who is so fortunate as
to read their adventures.
=Wrecked on Spider Island=; or, How Ned Rogers Found the Treasure. By
+James Otis+. 12mo, cloth, price $1.00.
A “down-east” plucky lad who ships as cabin boy, not from love of
adventure, but because it is the only course remaining by which he
can gain a livelihood. While in his bunk, seasick, Ned Rogers hears
the captain and mate discussing their plans for the willful wreck of
the brig in order to gain the insurance. Once it is known he is in
possession of the secret the captain maroons him on Spider Island,
explaining to the crew that the boy is afflicted with leprosy. While
thus involuntarily playing the part of a Crusoe, Ned discovers a wreck
submerged in the sand, and overhauling the timbers for the purpose
of gathering material with which to build a hut finds a considerable
amount of treasure. Raising the wreck; a voyage to Havana under sail;
shipping there a crew and running for Savannah; the attempt of the crew
to seize the little craft after learning of the treasure on board, and,
as a matter of course, the successful ending of the journey, all serve
to make as entertaining a story of sea-life as the most captious boy
could desire.
=Geoff and Jim=: A Story of School Life. By +Ismay Thorn+. Illustrated
by +A. G. Walker+. 12mo, cloth, price 75 cents.
“This is a prettily told story of the life spent by two motherless
bairns at a small preparatory school. Both Geoff and Jim are very
lovable characters, only Jim is the more so; and the scrapes he gets
into and the trials he endures will, no doubt, interest a large
circle of young readers.”--_Church Times._
“This is a capital children’s story, the characters well portrayed,
and the book tastefully bound and well illustrated.”--_Schoolmaster._
“The story can be heartily recommended as a present for
boys.”--_Standard._
=The Castaways=; or, On the Florida Reefs. By +James Otis+. 12mo,
cloth, price $1.00.
This tale smacks of the salt sea. It is just the kind of story that
the majority of boys yearn for. From the moment that the Sea Queen
dispenses with the services of the tug in lower New York bay till the
breeze leaves her becalmed off the coast of Florida, one can almost
hear the whistle of the wind through her rigging, the creak of her
straining cordage as she heels to the leeward, and feel her rise to
the snow-capped waves which her sharp bow cuts into twin streaks of
foam. Off Marquesas Keys she floats in a dead calm. Ben Clark, the hero
of the story, and Jake, the cook, spy a turtle asleep upon the glassy
surface of the water. They determine to capture him, and take a boat
for that purpose, and just as they succeed in catching him a thick fog
cuts them off from the vessel, and then their troubles begin. They
take refuge on board a drifting hulk, a storm arises and they are cast
ashore upon a low sandy key. Their adventures from this point cannot
fail to charm the reader. As a writer for young people Mr. Otis is a
prime favorite. His style is captivating, and never for a moment does
he allow the interest to flag. In “The Castaways” he is at his best.
=Tom Thatcher’s Fortune.= By +Horatio Alger, Jr.+ 12mo, cloth, price
$1.00.
Like all of Mr. Alger’s heroes, Tom Thatcher is a brave, ambitious,
unselfish boy. He supports his mother and sister on meager wages earned
as a shoe-pegger in John Simpson’s factory. The story begins with Tom’s
discharge from the factory, because Mr. Simpson felt annoyed with the
lad for interrogating him too closely about his missing father. A few
days afterward Tom learns that which induces him to start overland
for California with the view of probing the family mystery. He meets
with many adventures. Ultimately he returns to his native village,
bringing consternation to the soul of John Simpson, who only escapes
the consequences of his villainy by making full restitution to the
man whose friendship he had betrayed. The story is told in that
entertaining way which has made Mr. Alger’s name a household word in so
many homes.
=Birdie=: A Tale of Child Life. By +H. L. Childe-Pemberton+.
Illustrated by +H. W. Rainey+. 12mo, cloth, price 75 cents.
“The story is quaint and simple, but there is a freshness about it
that makes one hear again the ringing laugh and the cheery shout
of children at play which charmed his earlier years.”--_New York
Express._
=Popular Fairy Tales.= By the +Brothers Grimm+. Profusely Illustrated,
12mo, cloth, price $1.00.
“From first to last, almost without exception, these stories are
delightful.”--_Athenæum._
=With Lafayette at Yorktown=: A Story of How Two Boys Joined the
Continental Army. By +James Otis+. 12mo, cloth, price $1.00.
The two boys are from Portsmouth, N. H., and are introduced in August,
1781, when on the point of leaving home to enlist in Col. Scammell’s
regiment, then stationed near New York City. Their method or traveling
is on horseback, and the author has given an interesting account of
what was expected from boys in the Colonial days. The lads, after no
slight amount of adventure, are sent as messengers--not soldiers--into
the south to find the troops under Lafayette. Once with that youthful
general they are given employment as spies, and enter the British
camp, bringing away valuable information. The pictures of camp-life
are carefully drawn, and the portrayal of Lafayette’s character is
thoroughly well done. The story is wholesome in tone, as are all of Mr.
Otis’ works. There is no lack of exciting incident which the youthful
reader craves, but it is healthful excitement brimming with facts which
every boy should be familiar with, and while the reader is following
the adventures of Ben Jaffreys and Ned Allen he is acquiring a fund of
historical lore which will remain in his memory long after that which
he has memorized from text-books has been forgotten.
=Lost in the Cañon=: Sam Willett’s Adventures on the Great Colorado.
By +Alfred R. Calhoun+. 12mo, cloth, price $1.00.
This story hinges on a fortune left to Sam Willett, the hero, and the
fact that it will pass to a disreputable relative if the lad dies
before he shall have reached his majority. The Vigilance Committee of
Hurley’s Gulch arrest Sam’s father and an associate for the crime of
murder. Their lives depend on the production of the receipt given for
money paid. This is in Sam’s possession at the camp on the other side
of the cañon. A messenger is dispatched to get it. He reaches the lad
in the midst of a fearful storm which floods the cañon. His father’s
peril urges Sam to action. A raft is built on which the boy and his
friends essay to cross the torrent. They fail to do so, and a desperate
trip down the stream ensues. How the party finally escape from the
horrors of their situation and Sam reaches Hurley’s Gulch in the very
nick of time, is described in a graphic style that stamps Mr. Calhoun
as a master of his art.
=Jack=: A Topsy Turvy Story. By +C. M. Crawley-Boevey+. With upward
of Thirty Illustrations by +H. J. A. Miles+. 12mo, cloth, price 75
cents.
“The illustrations deserve particular mention, as they add largely to
the interest of this amusing volume for children. Jack falls asleep
with his mind full of the subject of the fishpond, and is very much
surprised presently to find himself an inhabitant of Waterworld,
where he goes though wonderful and edifying adventures. A handsome
and pleasant book.”--_Literary World._
=Search for the Silver City=: A Tale of Adventure in Yucatan. By
+James Otis+. 12mo, cloth, price $1.00.