CONNY REPAYS THE DOCTOR'S KINDNESS.
But before the mountains were quite bare there came a time when even
Conny ceased to interest the family, for Joe was coming home from
college. Joe, the handsome young student, whom father, mother, Betty,
and the servants all agreed to worship. He was to bring with him a
friend, and from garret to cellar the whole house was astir to do them
honor.
Conny was in the kitchen, polishing the silver, and listening to Biddy's
raptures. "Sure, thin, Conny, and it's a young gintleman ye'll be seein'
as there isn't the likes in ahl this miserable coontry, bad luck till
it!"
"Is he like the master?" asked Conny.
"Indade, thin, I couldn't be sayin' whidder it's likest the masther or
the misthress he is. Tahl an' straight, an' sooch a look in the two eyes
of 'im."
"Conny," said the doctor, coming to the door, "I am obliged to go to
Hampton to see a very sick man. You will have to go for Master Joe and
the other gentleman to-night."
"Yes, sir," said Conny, well pleased with the commission.
"Be sure you start in season. Put Doll into the sulky, and lead Prince
behind. The young gentlemen can drive themselves back, unless Joe
chooses to ride Prince. He was always such a boy for a horse!"
The doctor's rugged face softened, as it always did at the thought of
his boy, and it was no small self-denial to go away to the bedside of
some poor old wreck of humanity, delaying for hours the delight of
greeting his prince.
Early in the afternoon Conny started on his long ride of ten miles to
meet the young gentlemen at Kilbourne, the nearest railroad station. It
was almost November, but the blue haze of the Indian summer hung over
the landscape, and the air was warm and mellow with sunshine. Any eye
but Conny's would have said that the long mountain gorges, and the
thickly wooded glens into which they opened, were deserted of all life
save the squirrels and a few wood birds, but Conny heard a hawk's note
from above the cliff, and caught sight of a man silently watching him
from behind a mossy log. He laughed a little to himself to think how
often he had played the spy in that very hollow, watching to see who
came or went from Kilbourne, and then with a word started Doll into a
quicker pace. He was at Kilbourne in ample time to meet his passengers,
and, as the doctor had anticipated, Joe decided that he would ride
Prince, as he had so often done before, while Conny should take his
friend Douglass in the sulky.
The brief sunshine was already vanishing when they started, and the
warmth rapidly leaving the frosty air. Douglass wrapped himself closely
in his cloak, and Master Joe was glad to start Prince into a brisk
canter. Almost without warning the night shut down, and they found the
deeper cuts among the mountains quite dark. Doll was a swift traveller,
and old Prince could not keep up his pace, so Master Joe gradually fell
back, and kept near the sulky, exchanging words with his friend, and
plying Conny with questions about home.
"We shall soon be there now," he said, as they entered a narrow gorge.
"We really ought to show you some sort of an adventure, Douglass, to
give the proper spice to your first visit to the mountains. If it was
summer, now, we could get something terrific in the shape of a storm,
and slide a few rods of road down the mountain, or pile up the track
with big trees and rocks."
"I should fancy it was just the kind of place for banditti," said his
friend; "and I am sure some of those fellows we saw at the station look
as if they would take naturally to that sort of life."
They were driving slowly, and at that moment a strange, shrill cry went
wavering up from below them.
"That's a murderous voice for a bird," said Douglass.
"It's a hawk. I fancy," said Master Joe; "you often hear it among the
mountains, though I've never been able to find the fellow.-- What's
wrong, Conny?" for Conny had stopped Doll so suddenly that Prince bumped
his nose on the sulky.
Alas for Conny! He knew well enough what that cry meant. It was a
warning sent up to some one at the rocky pass above, to say that danger
was coming up the mountain. He remembered in an instant that old Timothy
had said there were stories of government officers in disguise spying
about Dunsmore, and that the moonshiners would make it uncomfortable for
them if they crossed their tracks.
No dream of fear for himself came to his mind, but how should he save
Master Joe? for he knew more than even old Timothy guessed of the
lawless and desperate characters among the mountains.
"Master Joe," said he, quickly, "would you mind changing with me a bit?
I'm lighter weight to carry, and I'll go on to let old Timothy know.
He'd be vexed not to be ready with his lantern."
[Illustration: "CONNY WENT SPINNING AWAY IN THE DUSK."]
Joe was quite ready for the exchange. It was many months since he had
tried the saddle, and an hour of it was quite enough to satisfy him; so
he settled back comfortably in the seat, while Conny went spinning away
in the dusk, as if old Prince had suddenly renewed his youth. They heard
the hoof-clicks on the hard road growing fainter in the distance, and
then the sharp ring of a rifle that woke a thousand echoes among the
hills.
Douglass started, but Joe laughed.
"Your banditti are putting in an appearance."
"Attacking an unfortunate rabbit, I suppose," said Douglass, bravely.
Neither of them guessed what had really happened. When Conny rode at
full speed into Hemlock Glen he had hardly a plan as to what he should
do, but the next instant a bullet struck him in the shoulder and almost
sent him from his horse. He caught the lines in his left hand, and
called in a clear but low voice to some invisible foe, "It's I, Conny
McConnell, and the lads in the buggy beyond are just Master Joe, the
doctor's son, coming home from college with a friend, just a laddie like
himsel'."
There was not a sound in response unless a dry twig may have cracked,
but Conny paced slowly along until Doll's quick feet brought her into
the Glen.
"Hullo, Conny!" called Master Joe, "did you hear a rifle-shot?"
"Yes, sir," said Conny; "there's a deal of game running these nights."
"What sort of game do you folks hunt with rifles up here?" asked
Douglass; but Conny did not answer, and in a few moments they came out
upon the open road, and saw the lights of Dunsmore about a mile before
them.
Old Timothy was on the look-out, and long before they reached the house
they saw his lantern moving about the barn.
"Here we are!" called Joe, throwing down the lines and springing out;
and in the happy confusion of the greetings no one looked at Conny,
until the doctor, taking his hand from the side of Prince, started to
see that it was stained with blood.
"What! Why, bless us! Conny, what has happened to you?"
"I think I have a little hurt somewhere in me shoulder, sir," said
Conny, sliding from the horse; "it's nothing much, sir, if you'd have
the goodness to fix me a little at the barn."
But the doctor would not hear to such a thing, and took Conny to the
surgery, where he discovered that the bones of his arm were broken above
the elbow; and most unwillingly Conny told the story.
How he had recognized the cry of warning, and understood that the young
gentlemen were mistaken for revenue officers, and that mischief would
probably be done them unless he could succeed in preventing the attack.
"And so you invited them to empty their rifles on you," said the doctor,
gruffly; but as he spoke he wiped his eyes on a roll of bandages.
"It's good luck it was me, sir," said Conny. "Wouldn't it have spited us
if Master Joe had been spoiled with a broken arm, and all the fun we've
been planning gone for nothing?"
"But the rascals might have killed you."
"I don't think they're that bad, sir; they were meaning a bit of a
scare, and maybe a drubbing or the likes."
"I'll drub them," said the doctor; "I'll make this county too hot for
them," and then, having finished dressing the arm, he threw his own
dressing-gown over Conny. "My boy," he said, gently, "I understand
perfectly well what a brave thing you have done: you risked your own
life to save our Joe. I honor you and love you for it from my heart, but
you and I will keep it a secret between us for the present. I think it
would kill my wife to know her boy had been in such danger. She shall
not know it till that nest of murderers is cleared out."
Conny's part in Master Joe's vacation was not exactly what he had
planned, but he scarcely regretted the wound that brought him such
gentle and loving care from every member of the family, by whom it was
only understood that Conny had been accidentally shot by a careless
hunter, and had borne his pain in silence all the long ride home from
the Glen.
Months afterward, when the last moonshiner had disappeared, and the old
still in the forest had been dismantled, the doctor ventured to tell his
wife of Joe's escape.
"And I have never thanked him," she said, her eyes filling with tears,
as she went straight to the attic, where Conny was so deeply absorbed in
a bit of carving that he did not see or hear her until she put her arms
around him and kissed him again and again.
"I know all about it now, Conny--the brave, beautiful thing that you did
for my boy."
"Oh, ma'am," said Conny, "it was nothing. I was so glad to do it."
Mrs. Hunter kissed him again, as she repeated, gently, "'Greater love
hath no man than this, that a man lay down his life for his friends.'"
And Conny, not understanding, said, earnestly, "Maybe you'll think me
presuming to be saying it, but it's that same I'd do for ye, ma'am, or
for little Miss Betty, or the master himself, if it's any good it would
be bringing ye."
"I believe you Conny," said Mrs. Hunter, "but I hope you may never have
a chance to try."
THE END.
[Illustration]
LITTLE MISS TURNER.
BY W. T. PETERS.
"Oh, where have you been to,
My little Miss Turner--
Oh, where have you been to to-day?
I've brought you my wagon
To take you a-riding;
So why have I found you away?"
"Oh, I've been to the meadows,"
Said little Miss Turner,
"With sweet robin-redbreast at play;
And the daisies and daffodils
Made me a bow,
And said, 'How do you do to-day?"
[Illustration: ROASTING EARS.--DRAWN BY S. G. MCCUTCHEON.]
EGYPTIAN WONDERS.
It is said that an Egyptian Prince dreamed one night of an obelisk, and
when he awoke ordered his engineers and his workmen to carve in solid
stone the strange and useless device. An obelisk resembles nothing so
much as the fanciful figures of a dream. It is a tall square pillar of a
peculiar form, often carved with hieroglyphics, and commemorating the
name and exploits of its founder. These solitary pillars of stone,
sometimes more than a hundred feet in height, are formed of one block or
piece, and must have been cut in the quarry with incessant labor. They
abound in Egypt, and were a common decoration of its immense temples.
Later, several of them were transported on great rafts or ships to the
city of Rome. There are in all twelve in that city. One of them is one
hundred and nine feet high without the base--a solid piece of red
granite. Europe has despoiled Egypt of its obelisks. Paris has one;
London another, crumbling away on the banks of the Thames; and we have
one in New York. The dream of the Egyptian Prince seems to have a strong
interest for all ages.
All Egypt, its history, its cities, its buildings, its mummies, gods,
cats, hawks, bulls, sphinxes, the Memnonium, resemble the fancies of a
dream. The Nile flows through its sandy plain, and covers it with
fertility. Late discoveries have shown that it is one of the longest
rivers in the world, rising among the high mountains of Africa, and fed
by immense lakes. In Egypt it overflows its banks every year, and covers
the land with a rich deposit of mud. On its shores are the ruins of the
strangest of all architecture, the works of the ancient
Egyptians--immense, grand, awful. They are the largest of all buildings.
St. Paul's Cathedral, in London, or the Cologne Cathedral, or even St.
Peter's, at Rome, would be lost in the vast circuit of the columns of
Luxor and Karnak. As one passes them by moonlight on the smooth stream,
they seem, it is said, the palaces of giants. One temple was a mile and
a half in circumference. The Pyramids exceed all other buildings in
strength, height, and durability. Some of them are four or five thousand
years old.
[Illustration: OUR POST-OFFICE BOX.]
Very tasteful ornamental covers for the first volume of HARPER'S YOUNG
PEOPLE, which will conclude with No. 52, issued October 26, 1880, are
now ready, and will be sold for thirty-five cents, or forty-eight cents
if sent by mail, postage prepaid. These covers are not self-binding, but
any book-binder will put them on for a small charge.
* * * * *
We wish to call the attention of those of our readers engaged in making
exchanges to the great importance of careful and clearly written
addresses. We receive proofs daily of the neglect of this essential
point. In Post-office Box No. 46 we printed a letter from a
correspondent anxious to make an acknowledgment of a pretty mineral, but
who was unable to do so because she "could not make out the name" of the
sender. Another correspondent, whose correct address was printed in full
in Our Post-office Box, received a letter on which the only correct
portion of the direction was his own name and the city in which he
lived, the name and number of the street, and even the State, being
entirely wrong. That he ever received it at all is a proof of the great
experience and skill of Uncle Sam's Post-office Department. Now such a
very careless method of direction might result in the loss of valuable
minerals, stamps, or other specimens.
Other correspondents report having received letters without name or
address of any kind, and yet the sender expected to be answered, and was
no doubt disappointed, as he was probably unaware that he had omitted a
very important part of his letter.
We have ourselves received large numbers of correct answers to puzzles,
often accompanied by the pretty appeal, "Do, please, print my name in
the list of those sending correct answers," and neither initials, name,
nor even address attached upon which we could base an acknowledgment.
When the answers were published, and those little folks found their
solutions were correct, and yet their names didn't appear, no doubt they
thought themselves very badly treated; but the fault was not ours.
Now when you direct a letter for purposes of exchange, copy the whole
address given in Our Post-office Box very carefully and clearly. And
give your own address in full, very plainly written, or else, even
should your letter reach its destination, you probably will not receive
an answer.
Learn to bestow care and attention upon little things now while you are
young, and as you grow older you will find it easier to be careful in
things of greater importance, and thereby save yourself and others from
much unnecessary trouble.
* * * * *
BOSTON, MASSACHUSETTS.
It would be curious to know how many of the child-correspondents
of YOUNG PEOPLE are really getting good natural history
collections. I can not imagine a greater help in educating a
child. My little girl, known among them as "Wee Tot," is quite
absorbed in learning everything she can about shells, minerals,
birds, flowers, and other natural objects, and nearly every mail
brings or takes some new variety.
ONE OF THE MOTHERS.
* * * * *
WEST BRIGHTON, STATEN ISLAND.
Although I am not one of your youngest readers, I wish to tell you
that YOUNG PEOPLE is the best paper I ever saw for little folks,
and I very much wish there was one as good in my own country,
which is France.
My pet is a little chicken hatched by steam, which I bought at
Coney Island, at a show where you can see the whole process of
hatching. The eggs are kept at a certain temperature for
twenty-one days, the length of time a hen would sit on them, and
then the little chickens begin to knock on their shells for
admittance into the wide world. In half an hour they are fairly
out, and ready to eat some yolk of an egg crumbled in little bits,
which is given them for the first few days of their life.
I bought one when it was a day old. The poor little thing was put
in a card-board box, where it cried all the way home. I kept it in
a cage made of an old box for several weeks, fearing the cat would
take it for a bird, and eat it up. I call it Cocotte. It is very
tame, and follows me everywhere, but its favorite place is in the
kitchen closet, keeping guard over the oatmeal bag, which contains
its principal food, although it will eat any kind of meat with the
cats, and drinks milk with them.
Cocotte, which is now two months old, is a Spanish Leghorn. She
sends her best love to YOUNG PEOPLE, and begs me to say that she
is a very happy orphan.
A. D.
* * * * *
CLIFTON SPRINGS, NEW YORK.
I have some very queer pets. They are craw-fish, which I caught in
a little creek. There were thirteen, but there are only twelve
now, for one fell out of the window. We keep them in a pan, and
they fight each other a great deal. A good many have some of their
claws bitten off, and in the morning I find a stray claw floating
on the top of the water. The two smallest are named Budge and
Toddy. I would like to know how to take care of them.
BESSY F.
You must put dirt and small stones on the bottom of your pan, for
craw-fish like to burrow and hide themselves in the mud. Feed them with
worms and bits of meat. If they live, and you watch them carefully, you
will find that the claws they lose will soon grow out again.
* * * * *
CINCINNATI, OHIO.
As all the children write of their pets, I would like to tell
about mine. They are ten little silver minnows. They are so tame
they will come up to me when I go near them. They are very fond of
moss, which I put in the water for them, and they like to run
under it.
In cold weather the water freezes, and I put the glass globe near
the fire to thaw. The minnows seem so happy when the water is
thawed.
M. LILIAN K.
* * * * *
DUBLIN, NEW HAMPSHIRE.
I send a very simple experiment to the chemists' club. Take equal
parts of oil and water, and even when shaken violently they will
not unite. Add a small quantity of ammonia, and they will take the
form of liquid soap.
GEORGE L. O.
* * * * *
LYNCHBURGH, TEXAS.
I am taking YOUNG PEOPLE, and I like it very much, but I like the
Post-office Box very much indeed.
I have a pet colt. I raised it on milk. At first I had to feed it
with a bottle, as it had no mother. Its name is Minnehaha. It now
eats bread, sugar, or corn. When I call, it answers just like a
child, and will come to me.
I have a wax doll named Lily. I had eight dolls, but I sent the
others to my little cousins.
My little sister Ruby, five years old, has a pet cat that comes
every morning and gets in the bed with her, and lies down with its
head on her arm, like a little baby.
PEARL A. H.
* * * * *
NORTH ANDOVER, MASSACHUSETTS.
I was very much interested in the account of "Lovewell's Fight
with the Pigwackets," in YOUNG PEOPLE No. 47, as I live in the
house in which it is said Chaplain Jonathan Frye was born, and
from which he started to the fatal fight where he lost his life.
About sixty years ago my grandfather bought the house and repaired
it, and my uncle owns it now. The north portion is the oldest, and
the walls are finished with antique wooden panels. Formerly there
were very big fire-places, but they have all been modernized.
Just before starting to fight the Indians, Chaplain Frye brought a
young elm-tree from the woods, and planted it on the green by the
road-side near the house. About a month afterward, in May, 1725,
he was killed, but the tree grew and flourished, and its great
round crown stood nobly against the storms and winds of a hundred
and fifty, years. It was known all through this region as the "Old
Frye Elm." Although it had many dead branches, it was still a
beautiful tree when in 1875 it was cut down. The trunk was left
standing about twenty feet high--a silent and mournful monument to
the memory of him who planted it. The winds carried some germs of
the solidago to the top of the stump, where they rooted in the
decaying wood, and for several autumns crowned it with their
golden blossoms. But the stump is now very much decayed, and must
soon fall, and this natural monument to the memory of a brave man
will disappear forever.
HARRY W. C.
* * * * *
CONCORD, NEW HAMPSHIRE.
I was very much interested in the story of the escape of Hannah
Dustin, in YOUNG PEOPLE No. 42, because I know many of the places
through which she passed. The brook that runs by our house empties
into the Merrimac. Lake Pennacook, now called Long Pond, supplies
the city of Concord with water. It is a favorite resort for
picnics and boating parties.
The monument on the island at the mouth of the Contoocook is near
Fisherville, one of the suburbs of Concord. There is another
monument on the west side of Concord, which we pass every time we
go to town. It is in memory of several white people who were
massacred by Indians near that spot.
We have felt three slight shocks of earthquakes here this summer.
I hope the Moral Pirates will report their next cruise.
B. M.
* * * * *
HAZLET, NEW JERSEY.
I am a little boy nine years old. My mother, my little sister, and
myself came from Texas in June to spend the summer in the North.
We live in Galveston. I think HARPER'S YOUNG PEOPLE is full of
pretty stories. I have been very much interested in "The Moral
Pirates." I found a little row-boat in the creek last week, and
took possession of it with three of my little friends. We cruised
to the end of the creek, where we had to leave our boat, as we did
not know how to turn it around. The boat is there still. It is too
old to be of any use, and is abandoned by its owner. Mamma said I
must have been imitating the Moral Pirates. I never enjoyed myself
so much as I did that day.
OMER.
* * * * *
WEYMOUTH, MASSACHUSETTS.
I have asked my papa to write for me and tell you how much even a
blind boy may enjoy YOUNG PEOPLE. Mamma, papa, and Arthur read me
the stories over and over again. I should like to know the Moral
Pirates, but papa says my brother is one, and that ought to be
enough.
I am almost seven. I used to run all about, chase the butterflies
and everything else that came in my way. But last year I was awful
sick, and though I run now as well as I can, my little brother can
run so much faster. I can see the light of the fire in papa's
fire-place, and the sunlight coming in at the windows, but the
things I used to see are so dark, and I can only feel. I have not
found a word of fault because I can not do like other boys.
EVERETT C. B.
* * * * *
TROY, TENNESSEE.
My brother Clarence takes YOUNG PEOPLE. I enjoy it almost as much
as he does, and he says he couldn't do without it.
I have a doll with great blue eyes and light hair. Her name is
Dora. She is thirty inches high. Mamma dressed her in my own
lemon-colored lawn and blue sash. When papa gave Dora to me I
stood her by the side of my little sister Hallie, fourteen months
old, and they were the same height.
My home is near Reelfoot Lake, which is about twenty miles long
and seven wide. Papa says it was sunk there about 1811.
There are several mocking-birds tame enough to build in our yard
and raise young birds. The old ones sing all night when it is
moonlight. I am seven years old, and began school in September.
PEARL H.
* * * * *
PLEASANTON, CALIFORNIA.
I have taken YOUNG PEOPLE since No. 11, and I think it is a
splendid paper.
I have only one pet--a black cat named Nig. He is very cunning. He
will sit up as well as any squirrel. He never mews unless he wants
a drink, or to run out-of-doors. He tries hard to turn the door
knob himself, but has never succeeded.
MAMIE B.
* * * * *
I have postage stamps I would like to exchange with the
correspondents of YOUNG PEOPLE, if they will send me a list of the
stamps they would like, and of those they have to exchange.
ETTIE A. HOUSTON,
9 West Nineteenth Street, New York City.
* * * * *
My papa has taken HARPER'S WEEKLY for twenty years, and I take
YOUNG PEOPLE. I like "Old Times in the Colonies" and "The Story of
the American Navy" the best. I have a collection of about one
hundred and fifty stamps, and would like to exchange with any
readers of YOUNG PEOPLE.
CURTIS BISHOP,
P. O. Box 1093, New London, Connecticut.
* * * * *
I have just begun to take YOUNG PEOPLE, and I like it very much. I
think "The Moral Pirates" ended splendidly.
If any boy would like to exchange postage stamps with me, I would
be much obliged if he would send me a list of his stamps, and I
will send one of mine in return.
C. F. MOSES,
Care of J. J. Cohen & Sons, Augusta, Georgia.
* * * * *
I have about two thousand foreign stamps, comprising about fifty
varieties, that I would like to exchange with the readers of YOUNG
PEOPLE, especially beginners, for I have not many rare varieties.
I have also a number of one, two, three, six, ten, twelve,
fifteen, twenty-four, and thirty cent War Department stamps to
exchange.
GEORGE M. FINCKEL,
P. O. Box 368, Washington, D. C.
* * * * *
I have some little stone cells, built and occupied by worms. I
found them in a brook in Mount Alto Park, Franklin County,
Pennsylvania. The worms were alive when I took them from the
brook, and perhaps if I had kept them in water they would have
developed into something different.
If George M. Finckel, or any other readers of YOUNG PEOPLE, would
like a few specimens of these worm cells in exchange for stamps, I
could supply them. My list of stamps is not large, as I am only
beginning a collection. I have no Chinese or West India stamps,
and would be glad to exchange for them any of the following, which
are all the duplicates I have: One zwei groschen Nord-deutscher
post: one eighty centime, Empire Francais; one sixpence; two
threepence; two two-hundred mils. Correos de Esco. de Espana.
LIDIE B. KEITH, Waynesborough,
Franklin County, Pennsylvania.
* * * * *
I have about four hundred and twenty-five different kinds of
postage stamps, and would like to exchange with any of the readers
of YOUNG PEOPLE. I also have a lot of rare postmarks, which I
should like to exchange for stamps. I particularly wish the ninety
Interior, and the seven, twenty-four, thirty, and ninety of either
the War or Treasury Department; or any foreign stamps. I have
Persian, Turkish, Canadian, German, English, Swedish, and Interior
Department stamps for exchange.
A. H. VERRILL,
P. O. Box 824, New Haven, Connecticut.
* * * * *
I would like to exchange with the readers of YOUNG PEOPLE some
rare foreign stamps for other foreign stamps and United States
official issues of 1851, '55, '56, '57, '61, '65, '69, '74, '75,
and '76.
PAUL GOLDSMITH,
Hohokus, Bergen County, New Jersey.
* * * * *
I am making a collection of minerals, and I would gladly exchange
with any of the readers of YOUNG PEOPLE.
CARRIE THORNER,
185 Hurn Street, Toledo, Ohio.
* * * * *
J. B.--Honey-bees were unknown in America until they were brought here
by early European settlers. On this account the honey-bee is called
white man's fly by the Indians.
* * * * *
W. A.--From your description your "queer animal" appears to belong to
the family of caddis-worms. If he is a member of this family, he is a
scavenger, and will feed himself on the bits of decayed matter in the
water. After a while he will cling to some weed near the surface, and
spin a chrysalis, from which the caddisfly will break forth.
* * * * *
"CAPT. FRANK."--The directions you require are in YOUNG PEOPLE No. 26.
* * * * *
G. T. T.--Experience has shown that catamarans with two masts are not as
serviceable as those with one.
* * * * *
D. C. D.--A very popular Halloween game in Scotland is apple-catching. A
large tub of water is placed in the centre of the floor, and a basketful
of plump, rosy-cheeked apples dumped into it. The young folks then try
to pick them from the water with their teeth. As the apples are
slippery, and bob around merrily, there are a great many laughable
mishaps before the coveted prize is secured. A ten-cent piece may be
hidden in one of the apples, which gives more interest to the sport, as
the lucky possessor becomes King or Queen of the festival. This game has
its disadvantages, as you must play it in the kitchen, where the water
may be spattered on the floor without doing mischief. Then, too, you can
not wear your pretty new winter frock, but must be contented with a
calico dress, which you will get soaked with water, and must change the
moment all the apples are captured and the game finished, or you will
surely take cold, and remember Halloween with sorrow. We do not advise
you to try apple-catching, but give it as one of the few sportive games
associated with Halloween. There are many foolish tricks practiced on
that night, but they are intended for grown-up young men and maidens.
They are most of them innocent, but very silly.
* * * * *
C. D. N.--Nellie H.'s recipe for candy is in YOUNG PEOPLE No. 24. The
recipes for white cake and cream candy are both in No. 38. You will find
different recipes for cake and candy in Nos. 19, 27, 28, and 31 to 43
inclusive.
* * * * *
Favors are acknowledged from Burt J. Wilson, Hammond W. S., Gracie
Stevens, Harry Kennard, Albert Rareshide, George H. K., Mary E. B.,
Mabel Lowell, Julian H., G. E. H.
* * * * *
Correct answers to puzzles are received from H. M. P., Ernie Garden,
Allie Maxwell, Hugh Lesley, Nellie Cruger, Artie Winter, J. N. Howe,
Howard Rathbone, J. F. W.
* * * * *
PUZZLES FROM YOUNG CONTRIBUTORS.
No. 1.
WORD SQUARES.
1. First, lean. Second, part of a door. Third, to fish. Fourth, a
memorial. Fifth, to choose.
BOLUS.
2. First, a low shrub. Second, remarkable. Third, a mountain famous in
mythology. Fourth, a region. Fifth, rapidity.
OWLET.
* * * * *
No. 2.
DIAMOND.
In HARPER'S YOUNG PEOPLE. Backward. Rancid. A European bird. Greased. A
boy's term for father. In HARPER'S YOUNG PEOPLE.
BOLUS.
* * * * *
No. 3.
HOUR-GLASS PUZZLE.
Terrible. One of a wandering race. An affirmation. In Europe. A domestic
animal. Ludicrous. A powerful medicine. Centrals read downward spell the
name of an American author.
S. F. W.
* * * * *
No. 4.
ENIGMA.
My first is in symbol, but not in sign.
My second in creeper, but not in vine.
My third is in mutton, but not in beef.
My fourth is in robber, but not in thief.
My fifth is in terrible, not in fright.
My sixth is in darkness, but not in night.
My seventh is in freshet, but not in tides.
My whole on a dreadful scorpion rides.
BELLA.
* * * * *
ANSWERS TO PUZZLES IN NO. 46.
No. 1.
N E M O
E R A T
M A N U
O T U S
No. 2.
Cannibal.
No. 3.
E
S E W
R E B E L
W E B
L
M
N E W
M E T A L
W A Y
L
No. 4.
L am B
O hi O
N es S
D en T
O d O
N u N
London, Boston.
No. 5.
Il n'y a que le premier pas qui coute.
* * * * *
Answer to Hand and Windmill Puzzle in No. 46--The first is a sponge, and
the second is a species of sea-anemone.
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