stinging slap on the shoulder. Of course Dick returned fire, and the
action soon became so lively that the forgotten eggs suffered
considerable damage.
"Here I am, boys!" he shouted, as he dashed into Tom Fleming's room;
"and here are the eggs."
Dick dived his hand into his pocket, and withdrew it in dismay. "I do
believe every one of the old things is broken."
The boys all gathered round, and a dish was produced to receive the
contents of Dick's pockets.
Dick regarded his possessions ruefully. It was not only the loss of the
eggs, but there was his new Russia-leather pocket-book, a present only
last Christmas. The knife and other things might be cleaned up, but the
pocket-book was ruined. The thought of what Aunt Sue would say when she
came to clean his pockets decided him to do what he could in that way
himself.
The milk was now inquired for, and, to the consternation of several of
the boys, was reported missing.
"Whew!" said Tom, "you Stanleys are getting off cheap. However, it is my
treat, so I will say nothing. Can't you make a cake without milk, Bob?"
"Yes, just as easy. You can use water, but you ought to have had your
kettle boiling."
Tom hastily emptied his bedroom pitcher into the kettle, and set it
among the blazing logs.
"Now, Bob, fire away. Let us see what kind of a baker you will make."
Bob pulled off his coat, rolled up his sleeves, and pinned a towel round
his waist. He then looked around for the flour, of which a large bowlful
had been procured.
"I guess," he said, "since so many eggs are gone, I had better not
venture on so much flour. Give me the bowl, Tom."
"Do you boil the eggs first, Bob?"
"I--guess--not. They mix up better raw;" and he began to break the eggs
into the flour.
"Don't forget the molasses," said Tom, proudly displaying a heavy jug.
"It was cheap; so I got a plenty."
"That is lucky. Cake can't be too sweet for me." And Bob stopped
breaking eggs to pour a generous stream of strong black molasses into
the bowl.
"I tell you what, boys," he added, "all our trouble would have gone for
nothing if I hadn't just happened to remember the soda at the last
minute, and bought a quarter of a pound. I think I will put it all in,
to make up for the milk, you know."
"I've got something for the cake," said John Stanley, and he produced
from his pocket a handful of raisins.
"Magnificent!" said all the boys, their mouths watering at this
unexpected addition to the feast.
"Dash them in, John. Now where is the spoon to stir with?"
"A spoon! I did not think of that," said Tom. "You ought to have given
me a list of all the things you would want, Bob."
"Well, we have got to have something to stir it with. A stick would be
better than nothing." And he began to look among the logs.
"How would the handle of my tooth-brush do?" asked Tom, resolved to go
to every length which hospitality demanded of him.
"Why don't you try your jackknife?" suggested Dick.
"Well, here goes," said Bob, and he began stirring vigorously; but it
was stiff work, and made little impression.
"There is something wrong," said Bob, standing back to view his work,
and think. "What else was I to put in? Oh! the water, of course."
Half a kettleful was put in, and the stirring now went on swimmingly,
and Bob's mind became sufficiently free from present anxiety to strike
forward into the future far enough to wonder what the cake was to be
baked in. He asked Tom.
"A skillet," returned Tom, waving that article over his head
triumphantly.
"All right."
In a few minutes the process of mixing was pronounced complete, the
batter was poured in, the skillet set upon a bed of glowing coals, and
its lid covered with another supply of them. But after the table was all
arranged, and the boys had time to look about and think, it seemed as if
they were going to have a very poor party after all. "Nothing but that
cake! And it is not a large cake either."
"Why couldn't we make molasses candy?" suggested John.
The boys gave three cheers for John. "You are the fellow, John, to think
of things."
So the kettle of boiling water was emptied back into the pitcher, and
the molasses poured into the kettle and set over the roaring fire.
"How long is it going to take that cake to bake, Bob? I am as hungry as
a bear," said Fred.
Bob cleared the coals off the skillet lid and peeped in. "It has puffed
up beautifully, boys. I guess it is about done."
"Dish up, then. We are all ready."
The cake was turned out into a large plate in the centre of the table,
and the boys seated themselves to enjoy their well-earned feast.
"What kind of a cake do you call it, Bob? It looks more like a
plum-pudding than anything else. It rounds up so, and is stuck all over
with raisins."
Bob plunged his knife in. Whew! It went in like the knife into the pie
of which Tom Thumb had eaten out the contents. The beautifully rounded
surface fell flat.
The boys were astonished.
"What makes it so hard to cut?"
"I don't know," said Bob, desperately, stopping to whet his knife on his
shoe. "There, taste it;" and he pulled off some pieces of the leathery
stuff.
"Ugh!" "Horrible!" "What stuff!" "Shoe-leather is nothing to it!" "It is
as bitter as rhubarb!" "Why, he said he knew how to make cake!" "Where
did you take your diploma?" were the exclamations that went round the
table.
Then there was silence. Bob seemed particularly moody, and the others
cast black looks at him as they pushed their chairs back from the
Barmecide feast.
At that moment a loud hissing sound was heard from the fire. The
molasses was boiling over.
Tom flew to the rescue; but too late. The kettle had tilted over on the
unstable logs, and the molasses was pouring into the flames and rolling
over the carpet like lava from a volcano. The room was filled with
flying soot, ashes, smoke, and a horrible smell of burned molasses. The
boys stood looking on in helpless consternation.
"Hi--yi!" screamed Dick, suddenly leaping upon a chair.
"What is the matter?" asked the frightened boys in chorus.
"My feet are burned with that boiling hot molasses."
Sure enough. A stream of molasses had found its way to Dick's shoeless
feet.
"Open the windows, and let out this horrid smoke," cried Tom.
It was soon done, and the cold air came rushing in. The smoke began to
clear; but a terrific roaring was heard in the chimney.
"Boys, I do believe the chimney is on fire," said Fred, in a hoarse
whisper.
It was too true. The boys ran wildly about the room, picking up chairs
and anything they could lay hold of to put the fire out with, and then
discarding them as useless.
Just then the door opened, and Edward Fleming, the eldest of the ten,
said, sternly, "Boys, what does all this mean?"
There was no need of answer. He comprehended the case at once. "Shut the
door and windows," he cried. Then seizing a loose piece of carpet from
the floor, he threw it upon the flames, and the danger was over in a
moment.
The boys expected a first-class scolding after this, but they were
agreeably surprised. Edward solemnly told the Stanleys that their aunt
Sue had sent for them, and the boys slunk away to bed. But they spent
all their play-time for the next week in cleaning up Tom's room and
their own clothes, and in getting things to rights again.
"I never knew before how much trouble it is to make cake," said Bob. "It
must be pretty hard on Aunt Sue and the girls to bake so much for us."
"Yes," said Dick, "and we are getting too big, anyhow, to care for such
things."
And it was remarked in the family that the boys' old attachment to cake
waned about the time of the private tea party in Tom Fleming's room.
[Illustration: ASTRONOMICAL ACROSTIC PUZZLE.]
Here is a puzzle that will interest the boys and girls that are far
enough advanced to know something of astronomy. The wee tots will not be
able to make much out of it, for the stars and the astronomers seem to
have been given hard names from the time of Tycho Brahe down to Sir John
Herschel. There will be a large number of bright minds among the readers
of YOUNG PEOPLE, however, whose exploits on examination days will make
it an easy matter for them to transpose the "pi" into the right word
every time. "Pi," it may be stated for the benefit of those who are not
familiar with the term, is the name that printers give to type that
somebody has knocked into complete disorder after it was all nicely set
up and ready for printing.
To begin with, we have a little story in verse, containing twenty-two
names. The stars in each line must be replaced by appropriate letters.
When these letters are mixed together they will form the "pi." Then by
transposing them we obtain the required name of planet, astronomer, or
cluster. No other letters can be used. Each verse has but one large
initial, every line of a verse beginning with the same letter. The small
stars around the acrostic initials have no bearing on the puzzle
whatever.
PROLOGUE.
First line, a planet; second line, two planets; third line, a term used
in connection with the moon; fourth line, another term used in
connection with the movements of the moon.
FIRST VERSE.
First line, a term used in speaking of an eclipse; second, third, and
fourth lines combined, three planets, and the name of a foreign
astronomer.
SECOND VERSE.
First line, a part of the moon; second line, a form of eclipse; third
and fourth lines combined, a man who made a discovery of great value to
astronomers, and secondly, a foreign astronomer.
THIRD VERSE.
First line, a cluster of stars; second line, an English discoverer of a
satellite; third and fourth lines combined, a term applied to uncertain
stars, a titled astronomer, and a planet.
FOURTH VERSE.
First line, the birth-place of a great astronomer; second and third
lines combined, an astronomical phenomena; fourth line, a cluster of
stars.
[Illustration: SCHOOL IS OUT!]
BITS OF ADVICE.
BY AUNT MARJORIE PRECEPT.
PICNICS.
The first thing necessary to a successful picnic is a plan. You must
know who are to compose the party, where you intend to go, and what you
can do to amuse yourselves when you get there. Then, too, you must have
what in armies is called a commissary department, which shall see about
the provisions. A picnic without a dinner would be very dull.
Two or three days before the event, the boys and girls who wish to spend
some long bright summer hours together in the woods or park should ask
their parents' advice about a good place.
A place to be good should be safe, beautiful, and not too far from home.
If not within walking distance, it is well to know whether it can be
easily reached by boat or cars, or by stage or carriage. You should find
out beforehand precisely how much it will cost to convey the party to
the spot. Then select a treasurer, who shall pay all expenses, buy
tickets, and take charge of the funds. The treasurer must keep an exact
account of everything he or she may spend, putting it down in writing,
that a report may be given at the proper time.
Your fathers or teachers will usually be able to warn you against
dangerous places, or those which are too public to be pleasant for a
little picnic party.
As a rule, you should not admit strangers or acquaintances picked up on
the way to share your frolic. It is always best to keep the party
strictly to its original numbers.
There are two ways of providing the luncheon. One is to decide in
advance what each shall bring as his or her contribution, so that there
may not be too large a quantity of one article, and too little of
another. John may be told to bring lemons, Janie may furnish pound-cake,
Alice biscuits and butter, Louis sugar, and Mabel sandwiches. Or each of
the company may provide a nice basket of food, and when the time comes
for the meal everything may be shared, and the table spread for the
general feast. I think I like the latter way quite as well as the
former.
Hard-boiled eggs, potted meats, thin slices of ham or tongue, cold
chicken, and plenty of good bread and sweet butter, are among the
must-haves. Picnic appetites are famous, and you need plenty of the
"substantial." Jelly in little glasses, fruit, cake, and, if mother says
so, a few of her delicious pickles or an apple-pie do not prove as
indigestible when eaten out-doors as they do under other circumstances.
Do not forget the salt. Nor the pepper. Bottles of milk wrapped in
cabbage leaves or set into a pan of ice for coolness are not to be
overlooked.
Be sure there is a spring near your picnic ground, or an old well on
some kind man's farm. If it have a long sweep and a deep moss-grown
bucket, so much the better.
Do not trespass on anybody's private grounds. Always send a committee to
the house to ask permission to help yourselves to water from the well,
or to pass through fields and lanes not open to the public.
The girls must remember that so far as possible all picnic preparations
should be made the day before. It is not well to leave cooking for the
morning of the day when you are to go.
The boys, too, should have their fishing-tackle in readiness overnight.
If swings are to be put up, a man should be engaged to see about them,
or at least the oldest and most trustworthy boys of the party should see
that the ropes are firm, and the tree branches stout. Nothing is more
terrible in its consequences than a fall from a swing.
Always leave the grounds in time to reach home before dark. Take wraps
for the cool of the day.
Be polite, unselfish, and very good-natured and kind.
I hope your picnic parties may be very delightful, and that nobody may
do as I once did on such an occasion.
Five of us, Henry, Belle, Jennie, Nellie, and I, went to spend the day
at a lovely spot a little way from the city. As the eldest of the
number, the luncheon basket was committed to my care. I kept it by me,
and with a charming book sat and read until the little steamboat stopped
at its landing. Then we all rushed off, and the boat puffed away up the
river. Presently said one of the group:
"Why, Marjorie Precept, what have you done with the basket?"
Sure enough! I had left it on the boat.
There is no use of trying to tell you what the rest of the party said to
me. Imagine for yourselves five hungry boys and girls, with the
appetites that are gained by a sail on a steamboat, defrauded of the
delicious luncheon prepared for them by my carelessness.
We did not get that basket again for three days. Well, what I suffered
has been a good lesson to me. Nowadays I know how to go picnicking, as I
hope you will agree from the directions I have tried to give.
[Illustration: POST-OFFICE BOX.]
Robins in the tree-top,
Blossoms in the grass,
Green things a-growing
Everywhere you pass;
Sudden little breezes,
Showers of silver dew,
Black bough and bent twig
Budding out anew.
Pine-tree and willow-tree,
Fringed elm and larch--
Don't you think that May-time's
Pleasanter than March?
* * * * *
SOUTH NORWALK, CONNECTICUT.
I want to tell you how to make a little winter garden next fall.
Fill a small box with earth, and in it plant ferns and mosses, put
a small looking-glass in it for a lake, get your brother to make a
glass frame to fit over the top, and you will have a lovely garden
when the ground is covered with snow.
These warm sunny days make me think the wild flowers will soon be
here. First the violets, blue and white, sweet-scented--the fields
back of the school-house will be covered with them; then
adder's-tongue, dandelions, anemones, and many others, with the
bees humming among them. You ought to see what nice salads we make
of the leaves of adder's-tongue and dandelions. How often I wish
that I could send flowers to the sick children in the hospitals, if
the express would only carry them free on the railroad!
Dear YOUNG PEOPLE, I have a brook near my school-house; it widens
and narrows, and makes a great noise. By-and-by it will be full of
tadpoles, or young frogs, and the apple-trees near it loaded with
blossoms. I am glad I live in the country. It is all very well for
you city people to have nice parks and picture-galleries; but I
have the nicest pictures, a different one each way I look.
JESSIE B.
* * * * *
LOWELL, MASSACHUSETTS.
I am a boy eight years old. When I was up at Greenville, N. H., I
was out in the meadow, and they were cutting the grass, and I had
lots of rides on the team. The man that was mowing told me that
there were some moles under a tree on a large rock, and I went and
looked under every tree in the field, and I asked him again, and he
went with me, and they were all around in the grass, and the man
had to pick them out of the grass, and they were no bigger than my
thumb. I put them in a little pail, and I filled the pail with soft
thistle blows, and I kept the moles three days, and then I put them
under a stone wall, and the next day my father and I took a walk,
and I asked him to come and see if they were under it, and so we
went down, and the bed that I fixed for them was all torn to
pieces, and I suppose the mother did it.
RALPH P.
* * * * *
HARRISBURG, PENNSYLVANIA.
Perhaps some of the little girls who read the YOUNG PEOPLE would
like to know something about a Cooking Club which seven little
Harrisburg girls had last winter.
Two weeks before Christmas we met, and decided that we would have a
lunch every two weeks, on Saturday afternoon, at the house of each
in turn. Every girl was to bring some dish which she herself had
cooked at home. Of course a great many of the dishes had to be
superintended by the mammas or cooks.
The President always sat at the head of the table, and carved the
meat, while two of the girls waited on the table. We wore large
white aprons and muslin kerchiefs, and made our badges of red
ribbon, with "R. S. C.," the initials of the club, worked on it.
We had seven lunches, but now that the pleasant spring weather has
come, we have given up the club until next year.
I have taken YOUNG PEOPLE since it began, and I read it always with
great pleasure. I think "Talking Leaves" was splendid, and I wish
Mr. Stoddard would write some more stories.
EMMA D. B.
Your little club not only gave you some happy hours, but I am sure you
learned useful lessons while playing at cooking. If you resume the
meetings next winter, you must write and tell us some of your bills of
fare.
* * * * *
UTICA, NEW YORK.
We take HARPER'S YOUNG PEOPLE, and read the stories in it every
week. We are much interested in "Mr. Stubbs's Brother." We like the
letters very much, and like to read about every one's pets. I will
tell you about a cat I once had; his name was Nimpo Ganges. He was
a very large gray and white cat. One day my sister had a little
kitten given to her. At the sight of a strange kitten Nimpo was
very indignant, and left his comfortable home here for another! One
day I went to see my aunt, who lives a few doors above us, and she
told me of such a beautiful cat that had come to live with her. On
seeing it, imagine my surprise to find it Nimpo Ganges! He never
came home again to live, for after calling on us two or three
times, and finding the kitten still here, he went to live with
auntie. He is a great pet with every one up there except the
neighboring cats and dogs.
LAURA J.
A very remarkable cat. He would not share his home with a stranger. Cats
are said to be very strongly attached to places, and less fond of people
than dogs are, but Sir Nimpo had a mind of his own, and chose his home
for himself, did he not?
* * * * *
BOWLING GREEN, OHIO.
In a recent number of HARPER'S YOUNG PEOPLE there was an article on
"Marbles," and this week I am going to write about them. Almost
every boy knows how to play marbles by making a trench about an
inch deep and a foot long. The distance for the marble to roll
should be nine or ten feet. As many boys as choose to can play at
this game, and the one whose marble goes in the trench, or the
nearest to it, takes the others' marbles. If there is a tie, of
course they have to begin over again.
Span is another very interesting game. Only two can play this. The
one who plays first throws his marble against something, like a
wall, so that it bounds back again; then the other boy follows him,
and if the marble falls near enough to the first one to span the
difference, or distance between the two, both marbles are his; if
he can not span the distance, each boy keeps his own marble, and
they reverse the order in which they played before.
I am a little boy ten years old, and have taken YOUNG PEOPLE almost
two years. I liked "Toby Tyler" very much, also almost all of the
other stories, but I think Jimmy Brown's letters are best of all;
it seems to me every boy must sympathize with him.
EDDY F.
I wish I could persuade Eddy and all the other boys to return whatever
marbles they may win as soon as their games are finished. Then nobody's
feelings will be hurt.
* * * * *
BRUNSWICK, MISSISSIPPI.
We have only three pets, a dog named Cricket, a cat named Maxie,
and a pigeon; I have not named the latter yet, for I want to ask
some of the readers of this paper to please tell me some pretty
name.
I want to tell you about the high water in the Mississippi Valley.
It was not quite over our gallery, and it is nearly all gone out of
our yard now. I felt so sorry for the poor people who were
suffering so in the raging billows of our beautiful river. We have
all been so thankful to God for saving us from a watery grave.
There has been but one life lost here, and that was that of a man
in a tricky dug-out. We have several boats, or dug-outs. I will
tell you the names of them--the _Arkansas Toothpick_, the _Box-toed
Slipper_, and the _Bob Lee_. We have a flat, but we do not think it
requires a name. I can paddle a dug-out. The boys get many a
"ducking."
MAGGIE LELA H.
* * * * *
BEECH ISLAND, SOUTH CAROLINA.
I am a little boy eight years old. I do not go to school, but I am
taught at home. I can read, spell, and cipher very nicely. My mamma
and nurse read YOUNG PEOPLE to me. When nurse read Georgie B.'s
letter to me, in the Easter number, I could not keep still. I was
thinking of him scrambling through Coral Cave. He must write again.
Mamma is going to have all the numbers bound at the end of the
year. I have three sisters and two brothers, and a father and
mother, who love to read your paper. I have no pets. I have two
vegetable gardens, one here and one at the plantation, eight miles
off, and they keep me busy. Nurse is writing this for me. I love
the poetry in YOUNG PEOPLE, and want to hear it all read. My sister
reads it for herself, and soon I expect to do so too.
EDWARD E.
* * * * *
KILLEGNEY PARSONAGE, ENNISCORTHY, IRELAND.
I like the paper very much. Our dog Quiz has three pups; we are
going to give them away. My pony is being trained; it will soon be
tame enough to ride. We are busy at our gardens. I put some
primroses in mine yesterday. I am to get a larger garden soon. I
like "Talking Leaves." Pappy reads it out to mother and us. Uncle
William sends it to me, and _St. Nicholas_ to Godfrey; he is my
brother. I have three sisters--May, Ida, and Ella.
IVAN M.
* * * * *
WARRENTON, VIRGINIA.
There are a good many mocking-birds that sing around our house, and
imitate all kinds of sounds. One time we thought one of our dogs
had taken our play reins, and was shaking them about, making the
bells ring. Another time we thought we heard a little chicken
peeping, so I ran all over the yard looking for it, until I saw the
mocking-bird up in a tree, and he was making the sound, and I
believe he did it just for fun, to see me hunt for the little
chick. I give names to all our little chickens. I named one
Harper's because it was weakly; but it has grown strong now, and I
hope next year it will have some little chicks of its own, and then
we will call them Harper's Young People. I wish Mrs. California
would tell some more about Carlie; he must be so cute.
MARGIE.
* * * * *
WASHINGTON, D. C.
I have four little brothers, named John, Billy, Harry, and Tom.
We have a dog which is very smart. He will turn a somersault
backward, and stand on his head. We also have a little donkey three
feet high, which we ride; but she will not let anybody else ride
her, as she will stand up on her behind legs and jump, _really_. We
have a pigeon that will eat meat and sweet-potatoes, and can sing.
Don't you think that is queer?
I am seven years old, and I wrote this all by my own self. Please
put it in the letter-box.
Your loving little reader,
HIC H. T.
You write so plainly and make such beautiful capital letters that you
deserve ten good marks, dear.
* * * * *
Hammer away,
Blithe and gay.
Work whilst you work,
Play whilst you play:
And the rust must be moved
And the shield kept bright,
For the battle of life which we
All have to fight.
* * * * *