and he meant to show it--"if you want to go around the world making
yourself disagreeable, just keep on with that talk, 'we ought to stop'
and so forth. Don't you suppose we know what we're about. There's
plenty of time to catch that train. I for one shall have one more skate
up the pond and back, and I'll bet you a new knife I'm at the depot as
soon as you are."
"St. George doesn't preach," cried an impulsive champion. "And besides,
he always _does_ first himself."
"Well, you hold your tongue," cried Wingate Morse, tightening his
skate-strap; "I wasn't talking to you."
"Say that again, and I'll pitch into you," declared the champion with a
very red face not altogether produced by the sharp air.
"Haven't any time," said Wingate, striking off. "Come on, all you
fellow's who are able to take care of yourselves, and get one good
glorious good-by skate."
All but two, the champion and St. George went, and their merry shouts
came floating back as the pair left behind took off their skates,
tossed them hurriedly into their waiting bags and set off on a hearty
run for the depot.
"I wanted to go awfully," confessed the champion on the way, "but I'll
stick by you, St. George."
"I'm unpopular," said the Saint, pulling up into a walk as they came
into sight of the depot. "But I suppose that makes no odds so long as
my mother isn't scared to death when I don't get home by the right
time."
"They're lost, they're lost!" exclaimed the champion excitedly. "My
goodness me! look at that smoke! She's coming in!"
Sure enough, "She" was. And having no time to lose other than the
moment in which the champion wildly jumped up and down in a snow-drift
screaming to the fellows, by this time at the head of the pond, to
"Come on--she's in!" they soon found themselves in a comfortable seat,
and the train pulling back to town at a smart rate.
"I lost my head," remarked the champion, "and that's a fact," as he
stumbled along the aisle; "but then, I guess nobody saw me. Whew! but
won't those chaps catch it, though, when they do get home."
Just then from the car ahead walked in Thomas, Mr. Bangs' man. He
glanced anxiously along the car-length, peering right and left. When
his eye fell upon "St. George" and the champion he brightened up, and
hurried as fast as was possible with his rotundity down to them.
"Where are the rest of the boys?" he asked quickly.
"Left," said St. George concisely. "Skating up to the other end of the
pond."
It was all told in a second. Thomas said something which it was well
the boys could not hear in the noise of the bounding train, then rushed
frantically back for the conductor, followed by St. George and the
champion, on the way repeating--
"Master Wilfred told me he'd be sure to catch the train, so I came down
the back way, and jumped on at the last minute. I didn't see the use of
staying another night in that house."
By the time he reached the conductor, realizing the result of his
unfaithfulness to collect all the boys and bring them safely back to
town on the five o'clock train, the unhappy man was in such a state
that the two boys had to take turns in explaining to that railroad
official what the matter was.
"Do run the train back," cried St. George imploringly; "you'll be paid
well."
"Are you wild?" cried the conductor sharply. "This train is bound for
town with a lot of passengers who have something else to do than to
turn back to hunt up foolish boys."
"But they will freeze to death," cried "St. George" and the champion
together. "The house is shut, and there isn't a neighbor nearer than
two miles." Thomas was too far gone to do anything but wring his hands
and moan helplessly.
"Can't help that," exclaimed the conductor inexorably, "the world
won't lose much. They should have obeyed orders then." He was terribly
tired and half-frozen himself, and was getting very nervous at the
predicament in which he saw himself placed. How to help these people in
distress, and yet take care of his train, was more than he could tell.
"I'll stop at Highslope, though I don't usually on this night train;
as it's the last into town, we run in pretty fast. There you can get a
wagon or sleigh maybe and drive back ten miles and pick 'em up. That's
the best I can do for you."
With that he broke away from them and began to take up the tickets.
TABLEAUX.
"WHAT is going on in the attic?" asked old Mr. Davidson one afternoon
as he wakened from his after-dinner nap and heard some unusual sounds
about the old mansion.
"Oh! did the children waken you? I am sorry," replied old Mrs. Davidson.
"Well, I reckon I have slept long enough," was the good-natured reply,
and you will know by this that the old gentleman was good-natured, for
it is well understood that to be wakened from an after-dinner nap is a
test.
"I gave the young folks permission to look over the big chests in the
attic," said Mrs. Davidson. "And I presume they will appear dressed in
some of those old costumes."
Mr. Davidson was apparently satisfied with the explanation of the
unusual noise, and settled himself over his newspaper. Presently a
young girl fluttered down the staircase and entered the room where the
elderly couple sat.
"Grandpa," said a fresh young voice, "we want to come and call upon
you."
"Call upon me! Well, what is to hinder?"
"Well, we want to have it a sort of tableau; we want you and grandma
to be the Emperor of Germany, and cousin John is to be the Crown
Prince, and I am to be 'Vicky,' and we are to call upon you in state.
Lannie is making your epaulettes. She will come and fix you and
grandma, and tell you where to stand, then when we get dressed we will
enter."
The old people laughed, but grandpa said:
[Illustration: CARRYING OUT THE PROGRAMME.]
"All right!" and when his wife would have demurred a little, he
said, "We must make things lively for the young folks or they get
homesick." The programme was carried out. The satin dress and mantle
came out of the old chest, but those epaulettes and stars and badges!
Let me tell you a secret, they were home-made, but you would never have
guessed it. Cousin John upon inspecting the work, exclaimed, "Lannie,
you are a genius; how did you know the way to do it?"
"Oh! there are ways of knowing things," returned Lannie, with a
good-natured laugh.
After the formalities of the call had been carried out grandpa said:
"Now, will some one tell us who we are?"
"Not know yourself!" said one, laughing; "Lannie, tell grandpa who he
is."
"Yes, Lannie, who am I, and what have I done to deserve the honor of
this occasion?"
"Why, you are Emperor William the First, and this is a long time ago
when you were younger and your grandchildren here were not grown up.
And on the whole, I think this is before the war with France, at which
time you gained great popularity. This is your son, the Crown Prince
of Prussia, and this is his wife, the daughter of Queen Victoria. And
these are your grandchildren."
"Thank you! I feel better acquainted with myself."
They all laughed at this and the callers withdrew. Mr. Davidson settled
to his newspaper again, but presently he looked up to say:
"That was play. But we do belong to a royal house, eh, mother?" And the
wife and mother smiled; she understood.
THEODOCIA.
SIR JOHN AND THE EREBUS.
THIS is a real Johnny. He was born one hundred years ago in England.
When a very little fellow he was fond of the water. He would make
little ships like the one in our picture, and slip away back of the
barn and down through the bars, which he didn't always put up in his
hurry to the pond among the trees. Here with his ship he would spend
hours seeing the wind blow it from shore to shore. When there was no
wind to make it skip over the water, he would puff sharp blasts from
his cheeks against the sails.
He learned a great deal watching his ship. And he thought, may be, he
would some day have a big one, be its captain, sail away off upon the
ocean, visit distant lands and see strange people and strange things.
And he did.
But he was going to school, learning fast and making many friends by
his good conduct. His father told him one day when he came from school,
right after tea, when they were sitting about the bright fire, that he
wanted him to learn all he could and make haste and grow up a good man
and be a minister of Christ.
But though our boy thought it would be a grand thing to spend his life
telling about Jesus and his love, yet he thought also he could do it
as well in a ship as in a pulpit. And when his father saw how much he
loved the sea, how much he knew about ships, and how well he could
sail his own little vessel, he consented. Soon after Johnny was taken
on board the ship _Polyphemus_ as midshipman. He was a sort of servant,
or a _cadet_, to carry the commands of the captain. Of course he was
very happy. This was a first step to being captain himself.
But the _Polyphemus_ was a war ship. There was war at that time and
many battles in which brave men suffered much and died.
He could not escape now if he had wished to. He did not wish to. One
day the _Polyphemus_ met an enemy's ship and the cannon were soon
sending shot into each other like leaden hail. Many dropped dead.
Johnny did every thing he was told to, often going right in the midst
of danger. He was brave. Not a shot, however, hit him. He was in many
other dreadful battles on the sea where the shot were flying all about
him; but he always came off unhurt.
[Illustration: "SIR JOHN AND THE EREBUS."]
Then, being now a man, he was put in command of a ship. He had sailors
and soldiers under him. He said to one "go here or there," and he went;
to another, "do this," and he did it. He was captain over a big ship,
and at the call of his country, away he sailed over the great ocean to
the North to find out what he could about things in that strange icy
land. He was gone several years, and travelled many thousand miles.
One day as his wife and some friends stood on the wharf where the ships
land and looked out upon the ocean, they saw a little thing no bigger
than your hand. Then as they kept looking and wondering what it might
be, it grew larger and larger, and came nearer, and through their spy
glass they saw masts, sails, and flags flying from the very tops, and
then, behold! they read the name of the ship and they knew that it was
the very ship on which, not Johnny, nor John, but Sir John--for that
was his name now--had sailed more than three years before.
How the ship soon rode into the harbor and dropped her strong anchor
into the water to hold her fast, and how the soldiers and sailors and
Sir John came on land, and what he did and said and what his happy
wife, Jane, did, and how handsome she looked I can't tell you.
But there's another part I will tell you next time.
C. M. L.
THE LITTLE SWEEP.
SEVERAL years ago, an effort was made to collect all the
chimney-sweepers in the city of Dublin, for the purpose of education.
Amongst others came a little fellow who was asked if he knew his
letters.
"O yes, sir," was the reply.
"Do you spell?"
"O yes, sir," was again the answer.
"Do you read?"
"O yes, sir."
"And what book did you learn from?" continued his interrogator.
"O, I never had a book in my life, sir," said the manly little fellow.
"And who was your schoolmaster?"
"O, I never was at school."
Here was a singular case. A boy could read and spell without a book
or master. But what was the fact? Why, another little sweep, a little
older than himself, had taught him to read by showing him the letters
over the shop doors which they passed as they went through the city.
His teacher, then, was another little sweep like himself, and his book
the sign-boards on the houses. What may not be done by trying?
[Illustration: ROUND THE FAMILY LAMP]
A GAME FOR THE EVENING OF WASHINGTON'S BIRTHDAY.
DEAR PANSIES:
I want to propose a new game for to-night. Let us all see how much
good our lessons on American History, and our knowledge of the life of
George Washington, "first in the hearts of his countrymen," have done
us.
You know that all our studying is for some good purpose; that it is to
enable us to do grand service for God, and for others. You know every
bit of knowledge upon any good subject is a powerful weapon to help us
in the battle of life. God gives us our privileges, our schooldays,
our fitting-time. Let us see to it that we make good use of them
all--_every one_.
Now then, here is the game. Choose a bright boy or girl, one who loves
history, and who has been careful to come to the class-room pretty
well prepared the last year. You know who these nice scholars are. Now
send Winthrop or Lucy as the case may be, out of the room, and all the
rest of you get up as many questions concerning the early history of
our country, before, during, and just after the War of the Revolution,
being careful to let the interest centre in George Washington himself,
his character, and services to America.
Now call Winthrop or Lucy in, and launch the questions, beginning
at one end of your circle of players, and going in turn around the
circuit, each player only asking one question, and the boy or girl who
stands in the centre of the circle having three moments allowed in
which to answer a question. If there is no clock in the room some one
must give out the time--father or mother, or aunt Susan will doubtless
be willing to do this. If the boy or girl cannot answer the question,
he or she must be fined a forfeit. Then proceed with the next one in
the circle asking a question--and so forth.
If it is answered correctly the one who asked it must go out, and the
successful Winthrop or Lucy can hop into his place.
After this has been played as long as you like, save the questions
(which some one in the room can write down, with the answers) and let
every girl and boy look over them, and see if they could be answered
better, in fewer words giving more information, and more correctly. In
this way you will learn to make your knowledge available, and you will
be quite astonished to find how much you do know about this subject.
Now for the forfeits, for you will probably have a fine pile to redeem.
Let some one be blindfolded and seated in a chair in the centre of the
room, while another player holds up each article, and dispensing with
the other usual questions, asks, "What shall the owner do?"
He (or she) shall tell when George Washington's Birthday was first
celebrated.
He (or she) shall tell some little anecdote of George Washington (not
the cherry-tree episode). And so on, to end with a grand march two
and two, through the parlors and hall, to the gayest tunes that a
deft-fingered performer can give on the piano.
May you enjoy this "Washington-Birthday-Game" heartily.
MARGARET SIDNEY.
SOME REMARKABLE WOMEN.
J.--JOAN OF ARC.
JOAN OF ARC, as we call her in English; Jeanne D'Arc, as she was
called in her native country; "The Maid of Orleans," as she is called
in history, was the daughter of a French peasant. In her childhood
and through her girlhood she was often employed in tending sheep,
and so lived much alone. She grew dreamy and imaginative; and her
young heart was much given to religious exercises. It is said that
she used to spend hours at her devotions, and when she was thirteen
years old her mind had dwelt so much upon the superstitious legends of
those days that it was not strange she should in one of those exalted
moods of religious fervor imagine that she had a vision, and heard
voices speaking to her of the wonderful exploits she was to achieve.
The people among whom she lived were ignorant and superstitious, and
could very easily be made to believe in anything which had a tinge
of the supernatural. Mythical stories of the saints, accounts of the
doings of fairies and demons were told around every fireside, and
the children eagerly drank in the strange tales. What you boys and
girls would turn away from with a decidedly skeptical shrug of your
shoulders, declaring, like a boy I know, "Ghost stories are no good!"
these children of a dreamy, visionary people drank in as truth, and
very solemn truth too. And so when Joan, walking in the shadow of
the chapel, fancied she heard a voice and saw a great light, or when
standing at the altar of the Catholic church she imagined the pictures
of the saints coming out of their frames speaking to her, it is not
surprising that the people of that neighborhood believed she really
saw and heard these things. And when she imagined that she heard St.
Michael speaking to her and telling her that she was sent to deliver
her country from the English, some of the people believed it--but it
appears her father with more practical sense than the others declared
it was only a delusion, and sought to convince her of the absurdity of
her wild idea. But she could not be persuaded out of it, and at length
when she was twenty years old the king hearing of her and of what she
considered her mission, sent for her and placed her at the head of
the French army. A number of curious things are said to have occurred
upon the occasion of her interview with the king. For one thing she
recognized him at once among his courtiers though she had never seen
him before. Then she told him of a certain sword hidden in an old
chapel which it was necessary to bring out for her use, though it is
said she never struck a blow; she only led the army, so I suppose an
old rusty sword would do as well as any.
The city of Orleans was besieged by the English. This city was a
stronghold of great importance to the French, but the starving
inhabitants saw no hope of relief and would very soon have been forced
to surrender. But Joan, the peasant girl, mounted upon a white horse,
and wearing a suit of glittering armor, rode boldly forward until they
reached the city. The French soldiers were so inspired by her courage
that they fought their way bravely and the English on the contrary
were frightened. Believing this young girl to be a witch, they were
easily overcome, though their commander declared that her pretensions
as to having had a revelation from heaven were all nonsense. But you
see the English soldiers were superstitious as well as the French. And
doubtless it was partly owing to their fright that the English gave way
and the siege was at an end. Thus having delivered Orleans, the peasant
girl was henceforth known as "the Maid of Orleans." She continued to
lead the army on to victory, and finally the coronation of Charles the
Seventh, took place in Rheims. Then Joan felt that her work was done
and asked to be allowed to go home. But the king would not allow this
and still kept her in the army. But she no longer heard voices. Her
enthusiasm and courage were gone, and no longer successful, she was at
length taken prisoner, tried and condemned to be burned as a sorceress.
The sentence was carried out, the king whom she had helped to establish
upon his throne never interfering to save her.
As a visionary enthusiast, we may not hold up Joan of Arc as a model;
but as a noble, earnest-hearted girl, true to what she believed to be
her heaven-given mission, facing difficulties and dangers in order to
carry out what she deemed to be the plans of her Lord, we must admire
her and do her honor. At one time she said, "I would far rather be
spinning beside my poor mother; but I must do this work because my Lord
wills it."
"Joan of Arc was no wilful impostor. She fully believed that she beheld
the faces of departed saints, and heard the voices of beings from the
unseen world. The result of her wonderful career was that Charles
ultimately won back to the royal house of Valois the whole kingdom of
France. An imposing mausoleum in the city of Orleans perpetuates her
memory, but her name stands above mortality, independent of bronze."
FAYE HUNTINGTON.
[Illustration: ROUEN.--ENGLISH LOST POSSESSION OF, 1419, EIGHTEEN YEARS
AFTER THEIR SACRIFICE OF JOAN OF ARC.]
[Illustration: The P. S. CORNER]
DEAR PANSIES:
How I wish I could coax each one of you to read this Corner carefully,
so you would not bother your little brains by asking me the same
questions over and over again, which I answer here! Will you each try
it?
To become a member of the P. S. one must subscribe for THE PANSY, at
one dollar a year, send a letter to the editor (Mrs. G. R. Alden,
Chapel street, Walnut Hills, Cincinnati, Ohio) mentioning some fault or
faults which he will pledge himself to try to overcome; and promising
to try each day to "do some kind act, or say some kind word which will
help somebody," always making the Whisper Motto, "For Jesus' Sake," the
strong motive of all words and acts, not only, but of thoughts as well.
If you would rather not mention the special fault which you mean to try
to conquer, you have a right to be silent about it; but I can help you
more understandingly if you let me know your temptations.
All such pledgers will be sent badges, and their names enrolled on
the pledge book. Their letters will be answered in due time in the
magazine; and the editor will be always glad to hear from them, and
will try to keep her eyes open in search of that which will help them.
There is also a list of books, games, etc., which are offered at
special prices to the members of the P. S.
Brothers and sisters of subscribers, or even young friends of theirs
who have the reading of THE PANSY, but are not subscribers, may join
the P. S. by writing to the editor, as described above, and enclosing
ten cents for their badges. Only enrolled subscribers to the magazine
have badges sent free of charge. Neither can these members get the P.
S. books and games at special prices. Such privileges are reserved for
those who take the magazine.
An officer's badge is somewhat prettier than the "private's," and has
gold fringe. Any one who secures five or more subscribers to THE PANSY,
and pledges from each, is entitled to an officer's badge.
Officers of a P. S. are expected to call the members together at stated
times, and hold meetings, for work or reading, or to spend the time
profitably in whatever way they may plan; always remembering their
pledge, and their Whisper Motto; so, being sure to choose no occupation
that the great Leader under whose banner they serve might not approve.
Such an organization is expected to have a secretary whose duty it
shall be to report to the editor of THE PANSY, from time to time--say
every three months, giving a brief account of their meetings, what they
are trying to do, and how they succeed.
Now will you study this letter with great care, and see if you fully
understand it?
Another thing, will you try to be as patient as possible about
receiving answers to your letters? Please remember that while you have
but one letter to write, the editor has at least five thousand to
answer! Indeed, I think there must be more than that number waiting
their turn. I look at the great and ever-increasing army, and shake my
head, and tell them to lie still and be patient. Then I push into each
PANSY as many as I possibly can!
Don't conclude from this that you must not write any more letters. I
don't mean that, at all. I am only cautioning you to be as patient
as meek little pansies should be, and await your turn. Meantime, of
course, I want to get your letters; the more the merrier, so that you
don't frown and scold because I do not answer you _all_ at once.
Good-by, my Blossoms!
PANSY.
* * * * *
_Lucile_ from Missouri. I do hope, dear little girlie, that we have
rescued those poor fingernails from any further bad treatment. I made
all haste I could, as soon as I heard of your needs. It is really
wonderful how many naughty teeth there are in our P. S. biting what
they ought not to touch!
_Menton_ from Massachusetts. That is right. A well "governed" tongue is
a most useful member of society. I know a great many tongues that were
sadly neglected when they were young, and now are engaged in making all
the people around them uncomfortable. I am glad yours will never be in
that list.
_Anna_ from Georgia. Yes, my dear, all members of the P. S. are
subscribers to THE PANSY; except the little brothers and sisters of
subscribers, who have the use of the magazine in their homes; those
we receive as members, and they can have badges by sending in their
pledges and ten cents each to pay for the badges. Subscribers receive
the badges free of charge. I was much pleased with your letter. As a
rule, I know, letters should be written with pen and ink; but yours was
very plain. I hope you are a faithful scholar in your school.