I have said that the work which President Washington had to do was quite
new to the country. The people had been used to having all their affairs
attended to in their own States. None of the States was very large. Some
of them were very small, compared with what the States are now, so that
the public men in each were known by a greater part of the people than
they now are. Then distance seemed greater than it does now. It took
nearly as long to go from Boston to New York as it now does to go from
Boston to California; there was no telegraph any more than there were
railways and steam-boats, and news travelled as slowly as men did
themselves. You can see that it was harder for people in Georgia or New
Hampshire to know what was going on in New York than it is now for
people in Oregon or Florida to know what is being done in Washington.
Where there is ignorance there is always more distrust and doubt. Men
found it not easy to give up public business to a Congress, far away,
that they did not know much about. Washington set himself earnestly at
work to try and have things done so carefully, so honestly, and so
wisely, that the people would learn to trust the national government,
and live happily under it.
The national government had been meant especially to do three things:
First, to raise money and pay the debts of all the States; second, to
see that the country was rightly dealt with by other countries, and that
other countries were justly treated by our own; and third, in a general
way to do for the common good what no one State could do by itself.
The government has now for nearly a hundred years done this work very
well, and that fact is largely due to the way George Washington began
it. He was President for eight years.
It would not be easy to tell all the things he did in that time which
have had a good effect ever since, but it will be well to remember a few
of the principal ones. He always insisted on the full and honest payment
of the public debt, that is, of money borrowed by the government to
carry on the war, and so forth. He believed that a nation must keep its
word as much as a man must, if it expects other people to deal fairly
with it.
In order that the government might pay its debts, it was necessary for
it to get money from the people by taxes, and President Washington
showed very early that no man or set of men were to be allowed to refuse
to pay a fair share of these taxes, as fixed by law.
The people chose the Congress, and the Congress decided how the taxes
should be paid. When that was done, there must be no further dispute
about paying. If the people did not like the laws Congress made, they
could elect men to Congress who would change the laws, but until the
laws were changed in this way, they must be obeyed.
A large number of persons in the State of Pennsylvania refused to pay a
tax ordered by Congress, called an excise tax, which was a certain sum
on every barrel of whiskey made in the country. When Washington learned
of this, he sent word to these people that if they did not obey the
laws, he should have to compel them to; and as they took no notice of
this warning, he got together an army of 16,000 men, and sent it into
the State. This soon settled the trouble, and there has never been any
attempt, on a large scale, to resist a tax law in the United States
since then.
It is easy to see that Washington knew better than to do such a thing by
halves. He sent so large an army that to fight against it was hopeless,
and so there was no fighting.
It would have been well for the country if this wise example had always
been followed.
[TO BE CONTINUED.]
THE CHILD SINGER.
BY LAURA FITCH.
In a narrow dirty street in the most miserable part of the great city of
London, a group of children were playing beside the gutter. They were
all dirty and ragged, and the faces of many were old and worldly-wise.
One little girl, however, though her dress was as torn and soiled as
that of any of the other dwellers in the filthy street, had a pretty
childish face. She was a bright-looking little one, with matted brown
hair hanging in tangled curls that had never known a brush, and a pair
of sweet dark eyes looking out trustfully into the uninviting world
around her. She stood a little apart from the others, leaning against
the doorway of a rickety tenement-house, humming softly to herself.
A rough-looking boy in the group by the gutter, hearing her low tones,
called out, "Louder, Nell; sing something."
The child obeyed; with her hands clasped, and her eyes fastened on the
speck of blue sky to be seen between the roofs of the tall, smoky
houses, she burst into a song. No wonder that the other children stopped
their noisy play, and listened. It was not their ignorance of music that
made the singing seem beautiful to those little street vagabonds. There
was in the clear voice of the child singer a strange, wistful tone, of
which she herself was unconscious, but which held the listener
spell-bound.
Nell had been born and bred in those low surroundings. She had never
seen the inside of a church, or heard other music than the whining tones
of a street organ, yet there was in her the very soul of music. She
lived in a wretched garret, with a dirty, slouchy woman whom she called
aunt, and loved as only a child or a woman can love one from whom she
receives no sign of affection. Miserable as such a life was, it might
have been worse.
One day Nell's aunt was brought home on a shutter; she had been run over
by a carriage, and instantly killed.
Now Nell was indeed destitute; no money, and no friends but her rough
neighbors. But these, though rough, were not hard-hearted; they would
have given her money, but they had none themselves, except what they
earned or stole each day. So they told her, if she wanted her aunt
buried properly, she must go out at night and sing, in which way she
would very likely earn enough, as people would pity so young a child.
So that night poor little Nell set out on her work of love. She walked
till she reached the broad streets and handsome houses that form the
London which the world knows. Here she sang. In the clear silent night
the childish voice rang out, and the hour and the stillness made its
wistful tones sound wild and weird. Up one street and down another the
little figure went singing, while its heart seemed breaking. A strange
excitement bore her up, and she felt no fatigue.
Her pathetic appeal was not in vain; it seemed to touch the hearts, and,
what is more difficult, the pockets, of all who heard her. When midnight
came, she thought of stopping only because most of the houses had closed
for the night, and there was little more to be obtained. So she took her
last stand in front of a fine old house in Kensington Square, in whose
windows lights were still burning. It was the home of Barech, the great
musician. As the tones of Nell's voice broke on the stillness of the
night, he paused in the work he was doing, and after a moment rose and
threw open the window. With amazement he saw the little childish figure
standing in the light of the street lamp, and while his artist's ear
drank in the wonderful tones with delight, his fatherly heart filled
with pity for the desolate child. When Nell ceased, he called to her,
and descending, opened the door and took her in.
From that moment Nell was no longer destitute, no longer friendless. In
Barech she had found a friend who never deserted her. Captivated by her
voice, he took the little waif into his heart and home, and thenceforth
she was protected, cared for, and educated. And he was amply rewarded
when, in after-years, the fame of Helen Barech spread over England. No
one then ever dreamed that the great singer began her career years ago,
one dark night, under the stars, a little outcast singing for money to
bury her dead.
"HE'S MY FRIEND."--A TRUE STORY.
BY AUNT FANNY.
Charley was the son of a young, rich, and beautiful widow, who lived in
one of the splendid up-town hotels of New York city. His mother was a
very busy woman, for she was a manager of the "Children's Retreat," the
"Children's Relief," the "Old Ladies' Mitigation Society," and ever so
many other charities, and these took up so much of her time that her own
poor little half-orphaned Charley was left pretty much to himself; for
Lizzie, his nurse, spent most of her time laughing and talking with the
other servants.
So Charley amused himself running up and down the stairs, and taking
trips with the elevator man, who was very fond of the bright little
fellow.
One day Charley wandered down the wide stairs, and along a corridor or
hall. He was throwing up a little ball and catching it as he went. At
the end of the hall he saw through an open door another flight of
stairs, very narrow, and rather dark. It was the stairs for the
servants' use.
"Hallo!" cried Charley, "here are some more stairs," and like the
learned monkey that let nothing escape him on his travels, down the
stairs went the boy on a voyage of discovery.
When he came to the bottom, which was far below the level of the street
outside, he walked along to an open door, and saw something which
dimpled his face all over with smiles; for, standing like a heron on one
leg, leaning against the wall opposite the door, was _another boy_. He
was twirling a little paper windmill fastened to a stick; his great
black eyes were dancing with glee, and as he laughed he showed two rows
of snow-white even teeth. At a stationary wash-tub was a big woman
washing clothes, and singing softly to herself, "'Way down in ole
Virginny."
Neither of them saw Charley, so, by way of introducing himself, he said,
"Hallo, boy."
The woman turned quickly round, and exclaimed, "Why, honey, whar did yer
come from?"
"I came down stairs; may I come in?" asked Charley, adding, quickly, "I
want to play with that boy."
"Course you can; come right in," said the black woman, for she was
nearly as black as ink, but there was a sweet, honest expression in her
broad face, and a welcoming tone in her voice, which brought Charley
quickly in, with a little laugh, to the side of the other boy.
And he--oh, how black he was! but as clean and neatly dressed as soap
and water and nice clothes could make him, for Juliet, his mother, loved
her little son, and she took good care that his manners were as nice as
his clothes. He held out his hand to Charley, and, making a queer little
bow, said, "How do you do, sir? I hope you are very well." Then he
twisted one leg tighter than ever round the other, and gave a vigorous
twirl to his paper windmill.
"Hey! I like that," said Charley. "Let _me_ try to do it."
"Oh yes," said the other, "but this is the best way--to hold it straight
out, and run fast."
So Charley took the windmill, and both boys went scampering and
galloping round the room, the windmill flying round famously, until the
boys were quite out of breath.
"What's your name?" asked Charley, as they were resting together in a
large old rocking-chair.
"George Washington Johnson. What's _your_ name?"' asked the black boy,
in return, rocking the chair as hard as he could.
"My name is Charley Lee. I like you. Will you be my friend?"
"Oh yes; will you be mine?"
"Yes, and we'll play together every single day."
Just then Juliet went away with a great basket of clothes, to hang them
up in a room where they were quickly dried by steam; and Charley, taking
George's hand, said, "Come up stairs with me, and take a ride in the
elevator."
What a blissful invitation for George! They tumbled up stairs in their
delightful hurry, ran through the door into the broad hall, to the
elevator, and the moment it appeared, Charley cried out,
"Oh, Mike, open the door; George wants to ride up and down with me;
_he's my friend_."
"Oh, he's your friend, is he?" said Mike, puckering up his eyes at
George Washington; "and a very pretty color he is, too. Well, step in,
Snowball."
"His name isn't Snowball; it's George Washington," said Charley.
The elevator man laughed, and the two boys got closer together in a
corner, pretending that it was a balloon, and they were sailing up and
down in the air; and there they sat, in a state of perfect happiness.
The two boys never quarrelled. George had a sweet disposition, and was
ready to do anything Charley proposed. They loved each other dearly, and
many were the slices of bread and butter, spread thickly over with
molasses, to which the two friends were treated by the good-natured
washer-woman. They never sat down to eat them; oh no! they capered, and
danced, and burst out laughing when they tumbled over a broomstick or a
bench, and seemed to grow rosier and fatter every day. That is, Charley
grew rosier, and George's smooth black skin grew shinier, which was the
same thing--for him.
The little black boy was often permitted by his mother to go out toward
Fourth Avenue, and run over one of the high arched bridges which covers
the Fourth Avenue Railroad, and he did not think he was doing wrong when
one day he asked Charley to go too.
"Oh yes, I will," he cried, in a great state of delight.
As soon as they arrived at the bridge, they began chasing each other
over it; and then Charley said:
"Oh, George, let's play that we are travellers, hunting for a whale. I
heard my mamma talking about one that was on ex-ex-exedition down by
the river. She said that it was 'most a mile long."
"Goody!" cried George. "What a mons'ous whale!"
So the boys ran down the street toward the East River a long, long way,
and presently they got to some rocks, upon the top of which were a
number of miserable wooden houses called shanties.
Geese, pigs, chickens, and a forlorn, starved-looking dog were poking
about for something to eat. Near by was a great heap of coal ashes. Some
bad-looking boys were raking the ashes up into a sort of mound on top of
the heap; but a moment after, they ran away to see an organ-grinder and
a monkey which had come upon the rocks. Charley and George would have
run too, had not their ears caught the sound of a stifled piteous
mewing, which seemed to issue out of the very middle of the ash heap.
"What's that?" asked both boys at once.
"Mew! me--ew!" came again from the ashes.
"It's a cat!" exclaimed Charley; "and it is inside of those ashes. I do
believe those boys thought it was dead, and buried it. Let's hurry and
dig it out."
Charley and George worked hard, but they had nothing but their hands to
work with, and they threw the ashes all over their clothes; but the
piteous mewing came quicker and louder, and in a few moments the gray
head of a live kitten popped out of the ashes; then two gray paws, and
soon the whole kitten was liberated.
"Oh, you poor little thing!" said Charley, trying with soft pats to get
the ashes out of its fur, while George took out of his pocket a queer
little pocket-handkerchief, six inches square, with A B C all round the
edge, and a portrait of his great namesake in the middle, and said, in a
tender tone, "Here, poor kitty, let me wipe your nose; don't cry any
more;" and he wiped it so softly that it really seemed to comfort the
afflicted little creature.
"Let's run home with it," said Charley.
"And give it some milk," said George.
"And wash it clean," said Charley.
"And dry it in the steam-room," said George.
No sooner said than done. Charley carried the kitten one block, and then
George the next, and so on in turn, until at last they got back to the
hotel, and rushed down into the laundry, where Juliet was beginning to
feel worried at their long absence.
"La sakes!" she cried, when she saw the plight they were in, "whar have
you ben gone? Why, you look jes like ole Bobby de ash-man. Whar you get
dat ar cat? Why, George Washington! you's a disgrace to your raisin'!
How you spec' I'se gwine' to make you look genteel if you cum home dat
ar way?"
"Oh," said George, rolling his eyes at his mother--"oh, we've had such
s'prising 'wenters; we went to see a whale."
"Whale! is dat what you call a whale?" said Juliet, pointing to the poor
little kitten, which he was hugging tight to his breast.
Then Charley spoke up, and when Juliet had heard of the "surprising
adventures," she was sorry she had been the least bit cross with the
kind-hearted little fellows. To make up for it, she gave the kitten a
saucer of warm milk, and taking off the soiled clothes of the boys, and
washing their faces and hands, she put two funny little night-gowns upon
them, and popped them into her bed, which was in a little room next to
the laundry. Then she caught up their clothes--for there was no time to
be lost--and popped _them_ into a tub of hot water, with plenty of soap,
and in ten minutes they were just as clean as soap, water, and hard
rubbing could make them.
Then she wrung them out with a will, shook them out with a flourish, and
running into the steam-room, hung them upon a horse--a clothes-horse, of
course. In ten minutes more they were dry enough to iron, and she
polished them with the hot and heavy irons at such a rate that they
fairly shone, and she shone too.
When the boys were called, and Juliet put on their clothes again, they
looked cleaner, brighter, and happier than ever.
The kitten was adopted as a friend too, and had soon shook and licked
itself clean, and it lived a very comfortable life down in the laundry.
One day, for a wonder, Charley's mother staid at home. She was expecting
a call from her lawyer, Judge Spencer, upon some business. When he came
he had a long talk with Charley.
Presently Charley said: "I want to tell you something. I've a friend;
his name is George."
"Only one friend?" asked the Judge, laughing.
"But he's my 'tic'lar friend," explained Charley. "May I bring him to
see you? He's real nice."
"Does he live in the hotel?" asked Charley's mother, who had never heard
of him.
"Oh yes," replied Charley, "and he and I have a _love-aly_ kitten--we
take care of it."
"Well, bring him in--the kitten too," said the good Judge; "that is, if
your mother consents."
"Oh, certainly," said Mrs. Lee.
So Charley rushed down the narrow stairs, and found George playing with
the kitten, and looking as neat and clean as a new pin.
"Come, George, come up with me to mamma's parlor. Judge Spencer is
there; he wants to see you, and the kitten too."
They went up stairs, and softly opening the door of the parlor, and
holding George's hand tightly, Charley walked quickly up to the Judge
and said, "Here's my friend; he can't help being black!"
For one moment astonishment kept Charley's mamma and the Judge silent.
Then the good man held out his hand to the black boy, and taking Charley
on his knee kissed him tenderly. That warm, loving kiss told Charley
that the Judge understood it all. His face grew radiant, his eyes rested
affectionately on his friend, and then he leaned toward George, and put
the beloved kitten in his arms. "You hold it now," he said.
With a cautionary wave of his hand, the Judge prevented Mrs. Lee from
reproving Charley for his choice of a friend; then he sent them into the
next room, and had a long talk with the widow, the result of which was
that, after inquiring about George, and finding how good his "raisin'"
was, as Juliet called it, Charley was still permitted to play with him.
And to this very day (for all this has happened within a few months) if
you ask Charley Lee who George Washington Johnson is, he will answer at
once, "_He's my friend._"
[Illustration: THE LITTLE GOSSIPS.--DRAWN BY H. P. WOLCOTT.]
[Illustration: SUSPENSE.-DRAWN BY J. E. KELLY.]
THE SOLEMN OLD LADY.
BY W. L. PETERS.
There was once a wee boy
With an excellent face.
Who was seen every Sunday
At church in his place;
And there this wee boy was accustomed to stare
At a solemn old lady with lavender hair,
Who used to sit opposite to him.
But when the long service
Was over at last,
He would wait at the
Vestibule door till she passed;
And then she would stop on her way from the pew,
And propound a conundrum, which he never knew,
For she asked him the "drift of the sermon."
By-and-by, when the little boy's
Manhood came round,
The whole world an unanswered
Conundrum he found.
And he can no more answer it now, I declare,
Than he could the old lady with lavender hair,
Who used to sit opposite to him.
[Illustration: THE WEE BOY IN CHURCH.--DRAWN BY C. A. NORTHAM.]
[Illustration: OUR POST-OFFICE BOX.]
SMITH'S HILL, CALIFORNIA.
I live on the east branch of Feather River, in California. I go to
school in a school-house made of logs. The scholars are all
Germans and Indians. Swallows generally come here in February, but
this year we did not see any till the 9th of March. I saw a
picture of the snow-flower in YOUNG PEOPLE No. 7. It grows on the
hills near my home, and blooms in June. Lupin and larkspur and
many other flowers also grow here. I am seven years old.
LOU R. K.
* * * * *
DOWNIEVILLE, CALIFORNIA.
I am twelve years old, and I live in the Sierra Nevada Mountains,
about four thousand feet above the sea-level, with my aunt and
uncle. The snow is two feet and a half deep (April 11), and I can
not look for willow "pussies" myself, but this afternoon my uncle
was out over the snow, and he found some, which I send you. These
are the first I have ever seen. A few days ago there was a flock
of robins in our back yard, and they went skipping and hopping
about quite happy. I have a pigeon, and his name is Bob. When I
hold out my hand to him with wheat in it, he will come and eat,
and when he has eaten all the wheat, he will turn around and fight
me. Can you tell me why the 1st of April is called All-fools' Day?
MARY A. R.
The origin of April-fools' Day is unknown. If you have YOUNG PEOPLE No.
18, read the answer to Zella T., in the Post-office Box.
* * * * *
COLFAX, CALIFORNIA.
My uncle subscribed to YOUNG PEOPLE for a New-Year's present to
me, and I do not believe he could have found a paper I would have
liked better if he had hunted all over the United States. But I
can not enjoy it alone, so when I get all through reading it, I
send it to a little friend. I only moved to California eight
months ago. I have twenty-two real dolls, and every one has a
change of under-clothing and several dresses. I have one hundred
and ten paper dolls. They all have names, and a history, which I
know by heart. I send you some pressed California flowers and
fern. I am twelve years old.
JEANNIE K. P.
* * * * *
WOBURN, MASSACHUSETTS.
I am ten years old. I have no pets now, but I had a Newfoundland
dog named Nero, and a pussy named Major. On the 14th of April I
was in the woods, and I found two buttercups. They were the first
wild flowers I have seen this year.
CLARENCE E. L.
* * * * *
I live in Upper Sandusky, Ohio, on the banks of the Sandusky
River. This is a very historical country. It was named after a
tribe of Indians called the Wyandottes, who burned Colonel
Crawford at the stake on the 11th of June, 1782. In the southern
part of this town is a tree called the "Big Sycamore." It is
sixteen feet in diameter, and about one hundred and fifty feet
high. It has several limbs that are from five to eight feet in
diameter. I have some pet ducks I think a great deal of, and a
sheep named Dick, that follows me everywhere.
WILLIE B. G.
* * * * *
SYRACUSE, NEW YORK.
We have three little canary-birds. They can feed themselves, and
mamma has put them in another cage. Their names are Yellowtop,
Sport, and Baby. The mother bird has made a new nest, and this
morning she has two eggs in it. If Daisy Balch will softly stroke
her bird through the wires of the cage every evening at dusk, he
will soon allow her to put her finger inside the cage, and will
peck at a little sugar on the end of her finger, and will no doubt
perch on it. All this will need patience. I like the "Tar Baby"
story so much, and "Mother Goose's May Party."
ETHEL.
* * * * *
NIAGARA FALLS, NEW YORK.
I live on the Niagara River, three miles and a half above the
falls. I go to school at Niagara Falls village, and have walked
nearly all winter in all kinds of weather, although it is nearly
four miles. I have a little wild rabbit--black, white, and brown.
I had two, but the other ran away. We have a white cat and kitten.
The cat came to us nine years ago, when it was a little bit of a
thing. It stands on its hind-legs when it wants something to eat,
and never scratches. We have a water-spaniel named Music. He does
not like to hear any one play the piano in a minor key.
F. T.
* * * * *
NORWICH, CONNECTICUT.
I am ten years old. I like to read YOUNG PEOPLE. The Post-office
Box letters are nice. Katie R. P. says she collects insects. So
does my papa. He puts lumps of cyanide of potassium, bought at the
druggist's, in a bottle, and mixes plaster of Paris with water
until it is like dough, and then pours it over the potassium. When
it dries, the bottle is ready for use. Five cents' worth lasts a
season, and is cheaper than ether, papa says, and works better.
When the butterflies are dead, he spreads them on a board to dry,
spreading their wings carefully and evenly, and holding them in
place with pins. Papa has butterflies all the way from China. He
has as many as five hundred kinds. He raises them just as people
do chickens, right from the egg. He calls the worms his
pets--great green ones. I get food for them. They eat lots. He
calls worms larvae, which he says means baby butterflies.
That butterfly Bessie F. had was the Danais, papa thinks.
Butterflies are all foreigners, and have queer names I don't
understand. The worm of the Danais is found on milkweed, papa
tells me. It does not spin a cocoon, but forms a chrysalis--a
handsome green sack that looks like an ear-drop, with gold and
black spots on it.
WALTER H. P.
It is scarcely safe to recommend the handling of cyanide of potassium,
in any form whatever, to our young readers, as it is one of the most
terrible of poisons, and works much mischief and suffering by merely
coming in contact with a slight cut on the finger.
* * * * *
GREENSBURG, KENTUCKY.
I live on the top of a cliff almost two hundred feet high. The
scenery is beautiful. You can see for a distance of twenty miles in
almost every direction. There is an old field on our farm in which
papa thinks the Indians fought a battle, because there are so many
flint arrow-heads there. My brother and I are saving them, because
we like to have them in our room.
I caught seven woodchucks with my dog. I am fourteen years old, and
own a horse of my own. I bought her about two years ago. I have a
goat that I work in a wagon I made myself. In autumn and winter I
go to school, and in spring and summer I work on the farm, which I
like pretty well. There are several caves on our farm. In one of
them I have been in over a hundred yards. I like to read all of the
letters in YOUNG PEOPLE'S Post-office Department.
JOHN H. B.
* * * * *
JERSEY CITY, NEW JERSEY.
I have been intending to write to the Post-office Box ever since I
began to take YOUNG PEOPLE, which papa gave me for a Christmas
present. I have a pet cat, which I call Fluff, after the kitty I
read about in the Christmas number. My Fluff is very much like
that kitty, only she never went to church in her owner's muff.
MATTIE J.
* * * * *
PONTOTOC, MISSISSIPPI.
I see most of your little correspondents live in the far North and
West, and I thought you might like to hear from a little Southern
girl, who likes YOUNG PEOPLE very much. I am nine years old. I
have no sister, and but one brother. My papa is a doctor, and is
often from home; so when Buddie and I are at school, mamma is
alone. I love to go to school. I have two cats--Muldrow and
Dumpie. I will write about our beautiful birds next time.
D. R. H.
* * * * *
RIDLEY PARK, PENNSYLVANIA.
I am trying to collect a cabinet of curiosities, and have quite a
lot of things already. I have pieces of celebrated foreign
buildings, English street-car tickets, Lake George diamonds, the
rattle of a rattle-snake, and other things.
I think the "Letter from a Land Turtle" is very interesting. I had
a young water turtle that I could cover with a two-cent piece. I
saw a very funny ants' bed the other day. It was an oyster shell,
with the edges all covered with sand, except on one place, where
the ants went in. I think it must have been a very cozy house.
Will you please tell me something about the habits of ants?
C. B. F.
* * * * *
AUBURN, NEW YORK.
I have no pets, but we have a nice flower garden. One of the boy
correspondents of YOUNG PEOPLE asked if we had ever seen a
tarantula, or California spider. We have one five or six inches
long, preserved in alcohol. My uncle sent it to us from Nevada. He
says the webs are so strong that people use them for thread.
BERTIE S.
* * * * *
I would like to exchange pressed wild flowers with some little
girl living in the East. I would like some small bouquets for a
scrap-book. We have a great variety of beautiful wild flowers
here. I have one sister and two brothers. My pet is a sheep. She
will leave the herd to come to me. She eats bread, and tobacco
too, when the shepherd gives it to her. Her name is Susie.
MABEL SHARP,
Buchanan, Fresno County, California.
* * * * *
NEW YORK CITY.
I am a great admirer of Shakspeare. I have just finished reading
_Macbeth_. I have seen Edwin Booth play Hamlet. My mother has read
aloud to me _King Richard III_. and many others of these plays. I
am also very fond of history. I first read _Peter Parley's
Universal History_, next Dickens's _Child's History of England_,
and since many other books of historical tales. I am now reading
Guizot's _Popular History of France_. There are six large volumes,
and I have finished the third volume to-day.
I think you will be interested to hear about my Bible. It is the
elegant "Illuminated Bible" which was "published by Harper &
Brothers, 82 Cliff Street," just before the fire, which destroyed
all the plates of "sixteen hundred historical engravings." I read
in it every Sunday, and almost every morning. I have read the Old
Testament in course to the end of Chronicles, and I am pretty
familiar with the rest of the Bible.
I was paralyzed when I was sixteen months old, and have not the
use of my right hand. As yet I can not write well with my left. I
am twelve years old.
S. CASSIUS E.
* * * * *
JERSEY CITY, NEW JERSEY.
My sister Gertie and I had each a small turtle. They were kept in
a glass globe in the house all winter, and about a week ago we put
them out in the yard in a large pan. To-day, when I went out to
see them, mine was dead. Can anyone tell me what was the matter
with it? They both had plenty of raw meat and earth-worms. The
water was changed every day, and there were large stones for them
to crawl up upon. We put the other turtle back in the glass globe
in the house.
MAMIE E.
Turtles prefer to bury themselves in the mud, and sleep all winter.
Perhaps had you allowed your turtle to follow its natural instincts, it
would not have died.
* * * * *
PROVINCETOWN, MASSACHUSETTS.
I am seven years old. I want to tell all the boys who read YOUNG
PEOPLE that I live where they catch those big whales. My uncle
goes in a vessel after them. He has killed nine this spring. The
largest one was over sixty feet long, and made fifty barrels of
oil. They shoot the whales with a bomb-lance.
FREDDIE R. A.
* * * * *
BENTON, ILLINOIS.
I take YOUNG PEOPLE, and I think it is a very interesting paper. I
am living in Benton now, and very soon I will have a little dog, a
lamb, and a pig. Some of you that live up North will think a pig
is a very strange pet; and yet when you think that the pig is
white and clean, then perhaps you would like him better. Perhaps I
shall have a canary-bird and a kitten, but I am not sure.
To-morrow I am going to see somebody weave a carpet. I have to
study history and French every day except Saturday and Sunday. I
like to study them when they are easy enough.
LILIAN MCD.
* * * * *
JANESVILLE, WISCONSIN.
I found hepaticas on the 7th of April, and anemones a little
later. Violets, shooting-stars, Solomon's-seal, wild geranium, and
jack-in-the-pulpit are in blossom now (May 14), as well as other
wild flowers. I have seen woodpeckers, orioles, lots of robins and
blue jays, brown thrushes, and bluebirds. When I was going out in
the yard this morning I saw several chipmunks.
ALICE C. L.
* * * * *
PROSPERITY, SOUTH CAROLINA.
I live down in "Dear old South Carolina." We have a nice flower
garden, and there are plenty of flowers in blossom already. It has
been very warm this winter. I did not start to wearing shoes till
nearly Christmas, and I pulled them off again on my birthday,
which was the 4th of March.
My father is an editor, and we get a great many papers to read. I
am very much interested in "Across the Ocean." I used to live up
in the snow, on the banks of the Potomac.
J. W. H.
* * * * *
BALTIMORE, MARYLAND.
I live in the city, but I have got some chickens, and am very much
interested in them. I have raised some; but there is an old cat
that has eaten eleven of them, and I can not kill her. I have
pigeons too, and have raised a good many. I read a letter in YOUNG
PEOPLE No. 13 from a little boy who hatched a chicken by putting
the egg in ashes. I wish he would tell me how he kept the egg
warm.
HENRY W.
* * * * *
BROOKLYN, NEW YORK.
I have tried Nellie H.'s recipe for sugar candy, and I found it
very nice indeed. I intend to try Puss Hunter's recipe for cake,
and I will let her know my success.
CHRISTABEL V.
* * * * *
ELMIRA, NEW YORK.
Here is a recipe for chocolate caramels for the cooking club: One
cup and a half of sugar; one cup of grated chocolate; one cup of
milk; one cup of molasses; a piece of butter the size of an egg;
one tea-spoonful of vanilla. Let the mixture boil twenty minutes,
and then pour it in buttered tins to cool.
FANNY S.
* * * * *
FORT UNION, NEW MEXICO.
I am nine years old. I do not go to school, but I study at home,
and I can write pretty well. I tried the recipe that Nellie H.
sent, and it was very nice. I tried it several times. I had a
canary once, but it died, and papa buried it under a tree.
MARGARET R. MACN.
* * * * *
Fannie A. Hartwell and Bertha C. M. send recipes for doll's cup-cake for
Puss Hunter's cooking club, but as they are almost the same as the one
from Bessie L. S., printed in Post-office Box No. 28, we do not repeat
them. The domestic inclinations of these little housekeepers of the
future are very pleasing, and we hope other little girls will send
recipes for the cooking club, which should certainly be encouraged.
* * * * *
GENEVA LAKE, WISCONSIN.
I will be ten years old in July. I take YOUNG PEOPLE, and I think
there never was such a nice little paper. We have live
cherry-trees, and they are all in bloom (May 7). We live near the
lake, and my little brother and I play on the shore almost every
day. They are launching two large steamers to-day. Papa, mamma,
and I went out fishing not long ago; we did not catch even one
fish, but we enjoyed the sail very much. I am going to the woods
to-morrow, and will send "Wee Tot" some wild flowers. I have a pet
kitty and a little Skye terrier, and every one likes to see them
play together.
FRANKIE P.
I am eleven years old. I take HARPER'S YOUNG PEOPLE, and I like
the Post-office Box best of all. I have two pet pigeons. They are
very tame, and fly to me when I go out; I never feed them except
out of my hands. I would like to exchange pressed flowers with any
little girl.
FANNY LAWRENCE,
Dedham, Massachusetts.
* * * * *
I have about five hundred specimens and curiosities of different
kinds which I would like to exchange with any correspondents of
YOUNG PEOPLE. I myself have a cabinet of about one thousand
specimens. Letters or packages may be addressed to
FRANKLIN J. KAUFMAN,
40 Butternut Street, Syracuse, New York.
* * * * *
BUCHANAN, CALIFORNIA.
I am ten years old. My father takes YOUNG PEOPLE for me, and I
enjoy it very much. I save all my money to buy Du Chaillu's books.
I have three now, and mean to get them all. Will you please tell
me if Du Chaillu is alive yet? I hope he is, and is making some
more books for us boys. I have a pet horned owl. He snaps his bill
and hisses at me.
EUGENE S.
Mr. Du Chaillu is alive, and in excellent health. You will be pleased to
know, also, that he is hard at work on new books, which promise to be of
even greater interest than those already published.
* * * * *
A. H. ELLARD.--See answer to B., Post-office Box No. 23.
* * * * *
S. A. S.--Rabbits eat cabbage, clover, cracker and milk, and almost all
kinds of vegetables, herbage, or grain. Do not give them parsley, as it
is said to be poisonous to them.
* * * * *
PUZZLES FROM YOUNG CONTRIBUTORS.
No. 1.
ENIGMA.
My first is in bloom, but not in fade.
My second is in shadow, but not in shade.
My third is in gloomy, but not in grave.
My fourth is in valiant, but not in brave.
My fifth is in anvil, but not in forge.
My sixth is in chasm, but not in gorge.
My seventh is in tares, but not in weeds.
My whole was a man of noble deeds.
LOTTIE.
* * * * *
No. 2.
GEOGRAPHICAL HOUR-GLASS PUZZLE.
A city in Spain. A city in France. A sea of the Eastern Continent
traversed by many ships. In Russia. A famous mountain of Asia Minor. A
city in Belgium. A city in Spain. Centrals read downward spell the name
of a city in Germany.
C. P. T.
* * * * *
No. 3.
DIAMOND PUZZLE.
In combine. A boy's name. Jovial. Barren. In gipsy.
JOHNNY R. G.
* * * * *
No. 4.
WORD SQUARE.
First, endure. Second, imagination. Third, precious. Fourth, a title.
PIERRE.
* * * * *
No. 5.
ENIGMA.
My first is in rat, but not in mouse.
My second is in pheasant, but not in grouse.
My third is in limp, but not in stiff.
My fourth is in smoke, but not in whiff.
My fifth is in waistcoat, but not in vest.
My sixth is in eager, but not in zest.
My seventh is in high, but not in low.
My whole was a courtier of long ago,
An author who travelled in foreign lands,
And died at last by cruel hands.
NORTH STAR.
* * * * *
No. 6.
DOUBLE ACROSTIC.
Silent. A man's name. A beloved relative. An empire. An ancient Greek
author. Answer--Two celebrated authors.
HARRY M.
* * * * *
ANSWERS TO PUZZLES IN NO. 28.
No. 1.
L
R I P
L I L A C
P A D
C
No. 2.
N ante S
O czako W
R om E
W exfor D
A licant E
Y ucata N
Norway, Sweden.
No. 3.
Cabbage-rose.
No. 4.
Make hay while the sun shines.
No. 5.
Mayflower.
No. 6.
Noon.
* * * * *
A Personation, on page 392--Shakspeare.
* * * * *
Favors are acknowledged from Samuel H. Manning, Grace N. Whiting, H. E.
Stout, C. W. Lisk, C. Bingham, Adella Titus, Lottie Noble, N. E.
Portlock, Howard E. Meiller, W. T. Sears, Dotty Seaman, Josie L. Moore,
G. C. Meyer, Charlie Stewart, Lena B.
* * * * *
Correct answers to puzzles are received from Charles Spier, Cora Frost,
Paul Beardsley, J. R. Blake, William and Mary Tiddy, Edward May, Willie
Draper, John McClintock, Bennie Lynch, Eva L. Pearson, George W.
Hambridge, J. S. Peabody, Willie F. Dix, Eddie A. Leet, Mattie Jameson,
C. Steele, Hattie Norris, Bert J., Mary E. DeWitt, "A School-Boy,"
Minnie H. Ingham, Louisa Gates, George Schilling, S. Cassius Ensworth,
G. Dudley Kyte, Rebecca Hedges, Bessie Eaton, Violet, Fanny S., S. A.
Hibbs, Ada B. Voute, Leon M. Fobes, Alice Dudley, George H. Radley,
H. G. B., C. D. P., Jimmie B. Tallman, Helen W. Dean, Louisa J. Gray,
Albert E. Seibert.
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OUR CHILDREN'S SONGS.
* * * * *
Our Children's Songs. Illustrated. 8vo, Ornamental Cover, $1.00.
* * * * *
Songs for the nursery, songs for childhood, for girlhood, boyhood,
and sacred songs--the whole melody of childhood and youth bound in
one cover. Full of lovely pictures; sweet mother and baby faces;
charming bits of scenery, and the dear old Bible story-telling
pictures.--_Churchman_, N. Y.
The best compilation of songs for the children that we have ever
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This is a large collection of songs for the nursery, for childhood, for
boys and for girls, and sacred songs for all. The range of subjects is a
wide one, and the book is handsomely illustrated.--_Philadelphia
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* * * * *
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VEIT, SCHNORR, &c.
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Containing One Hundred and Sixty Fables. With Sixty Illustrations
by HARRISON WEIR.
The Children's Picture-Book of Birds.
With Sixty-one Illustrations by W. HARVEY.
The Children's Picture-Book of Quadrupeds and other Mammalia.
With Sixty-one Illustrations by W. HARVEY.
* * * * *
Published by HARPER & BROTHERS, New York.
_Sent by mail, postage prepaid, to any part of the United States, on
receipt of the price._
Old Books for Young Readers.
* * * * *
Arabian Nights' Entertainments.
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Entertainments. Translated and Arranged for Family Reading, with
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vols., 12mo, Cloth, $3.50.
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The Life and Surprising Adventures of Robinson Crusoe, of York,
Mariner. By DANIEL DEFOE. With a Biographical Account of Defoe.
Illustrated by Adams. Complete Edition. 12mo, Cloth, $1.50.
The Swiss Family Robinson.
The Swiss Family Robinson; or, Adventures of a Father and Mother
and Four Sons on a Desert Island. Illustrated. 2 vols., 18mo,
Cloth, $1.50.
The Swiss Family Robinson--Continued: being a Sequel to the
Foregoing. 2 vols., 18mo, Cloth, $1.50.
Sandford and Merton.
The History of Sandford and Merton. By THOMAS DAY. 18mo, Half
Bound, 75 cents.
* * * * *
Published by HARPER & BROTHERS, New York.
_Sent by mail, postage prepaid, to any part of the United States, on
receipt of the price._
[Illustration: PLAYING "HOOKEY."
"Jimmy, I wonder if School's out yet?"]
* * * * *
=A Good Samaritan who would not tell his Name.=--Oberlin, the well-known
philanthropist of Steinthal, while yet a candidate for the ministry, was
travelling on one occasion from Strasburg. It was in the winter-time.
The ground was deeply covered with snow, and the roads were almost
impassable. He had reached the middle of his journey, and was among the
mountains, but by that time was so exhausted that he could stand up no
longer. He was rapidly freezing to death. Sleep began to overcome him;
all power to resist it left him. He commended himself to God, and
yielded to what he felt to be the sleep of death. He knew not how long
he slept, but suddenly became conscious of some one rousing him and
waking him up. Before him stood a wagon-driver in his blue blouse, the
wagon being not far away. He gave him a little wine and food, and warmth
returned. He then helped him into the wagon, and brought him to the next
village. The rescued man was profuse in his thanks, and offered money,
which his benefactor refused. "It is only a duty to help one another,"
said the wagoner, "and it is the next thing to an insult to offer a
reward for such a service." "Then," replied Oberlin, "at least tell me
your name, that I may have you in thankful remembrance before God." "I
see," said the wagoner, "that you are a minister of the Gospel: please
tell me the name of the Good Samaritan." "That," said Oberlin, "I can
not do, for it was not put on record." "Then," replied the wagoner,
"until you can tell me his name, permit me to withhold mine." Soon he
had driven out of sight, and Oberlin never saw him again.
* * * * *
=Earthquakes in Chili.=--In some parts of South America men keep their
"earthquake coats," which are dresses that can be put on
instantaneously, with a view to a speedy exit from the house. The
advisability of such a practice may be inferred from the picture of one
of the features of life in Chili which is set forth in the following
extract from a letter of a young Englishman, who settled at Valparaiso a
few years ago. Under date of November 16 he writes: "I am in a most
nervous state on account of having had three days and nights of
successive earthquakes--fearful ones. The first night I walked the
streets, and indeed every one else did the same; the second night I went
to bed quite exhausted at about 3 A.M.; last night also at about 2 A.M.,
but I could not sleep, for we had about six shocks, though not so
strong. The whole cornice of a house close to ours came down into the
street, but luckily no one was passing at the time. The women rush into
the street in their night dresses, screaming like lunatics, and one
trembles from head to foot. I was crossing our street when the strongest
shock came, and I was transfixed with fright, for the road was going up
and down like waves. My hand even now shakes, for at any moment we may
have another, and how strong it may be no one can tell. I can assure you
I am afraid to take off my clothes. The large squares have been filled
for the last three nights with beds and people wrapped up in blankets."
SOLUTION OF THE PASHA PUZZLE.
[Illustration]
This is the solution of the Pasha Puzzle given on page 424 of YOUNG
PEOPLE No. 30. The puzzle was to make Hobart Pasha by combining a fort,
two sabres, two British gun-boats, two bayonets, a bomb-shell, and three
birds; and here you have an accurate (?) likeness of the fire-eating
Turk.
CHARADE
My first is solemn and sedate,
Or ought to be, that's certain;
But sometimes, owing to the state
Of human passions, or to fate,
It is a scene of fierce debate
And wrath; but ere it is too late
I'll stop, and draw the curtain.
My second visits many lands,
In bright and stormy weather;
'Tis fair to see across the sands,
Though never quite at rest it stands;
One mind alone its course commands;
Within are many hearts and hands
Most strangely met together.
My whole is thought a happy time,
Its praise is often sounded;
'Tis told in books, 'tis sung in rhyme,
In every age and every clime;
Of youth and manhood 'tis the prime,
Except when on the sordid grime
Of avarice 'tis founded.
[Illustration: THE DOG PUZZLE.]
Here is a picture of two dogs ready for a fight. With one straight cut
of the scissors transform it into the illustration of an old fable.
End of Project Gutenberg's Harper's Young People, June 1, 1880, by Various