express, and in a few days the following letter announces its arrival.
ELM BANK, ---- 16, 1880.
DEAR, DEAR, DEAR FAMILY,--I know I can't show you my delight
better than by telling you all about it.
Yesterday we Aegises were out walking all the afternoon, and when
we came home, hungry as wolves, were cheered by a chorus from the
piazza:
"A Clifford box, a Wood box--
A Clifford box, a Wood box."
Perhaps you have no appetizing association with a wood-box, but
the news quickened our steps, and inspired us with the elasticity
of a quintette of rubber balls as we bounded up the steps, and
fell upon our boxes with all the love of a father upon a returned
prodigal.
I sat down on my box, and Gertie on hers, and there we sat, as
happy as two enthroned queens, with serfs and vassals standing
near. How every girl in school idolized us last night!
"George has driven Madame over to town, and won't be back till
late," said Enid, coming from her expedition to the basement in
search of George. (George is the man-servant who "does the chores"
and "plays hero" for the school.)
"How can we ever get these up stairs?" asks Gertie.
"Carry them ourselves," cried a brawny girl; "we'll all help."
So, with a girl at each corner of each box, we struggled up
stairs. Mine was not very heavy, but Gertie's was; and one girl
let her corner slip, which threw us all into confusion, and in the
midst of the hurly-burly we became aware of a majestic presence at
the head of the stairs, and there stood--Miss Coningham, the first
assistant. Our hearts stood still, for we had not asked
permission; but Sallie, whom nothing overcomes, saved us.
"Oh, Miss Coningham," she called, "_do_ come and help us;" and she
actually stepped down and caught it as the girls were losing
control of it, and engineered it into our sitting-room.
You know we five Aegises have one sitting-room, with three
bedrooms opening out of it. As she turned to go, I thought I saw
in her face a longing to stay, and be a girl with the rest of us,
and I said,
"Don't go, Miss Coningham; stay and see what is in the boxes."
"Thank you; I know you will enjoy yourselves more alone. Madame
told me to give you five young ladies permission to have supper in
your own room to-night."
"Why?" we all cried. "What made her?"
"Because it is Miss Wood's birthday."
"My birthday!" cried Gertie, in amaze. "I didn't once think of
it;" while the girls flew at her ears.
"I don't see how any one could forget such a thing--do you, Miss
Coningham?" I asked, as she stood in the door.
"No; I could not forget mine," she said. "This is mine too."
When I told the girls it was Miss Coningham's birthday too, they
unanimously proposed to give her a present, and ran to their rooms
for their purses.
"There are just ten of us," said Enid, counting.
"Pass round a hat," said Ida.
"This will do," cried Sallie, seizing an India rubber shoe, and
taking up the collection. "If you have little, give little, but if
you've got a lot, give a good deal. Six dollars and ninety cents,"
said Sallie, counting it. "Now what shall we get?"
"Flowers? They fade so quickly."
"Let's get something she can keep."
"Well, what?"
"A gold thimble. You know hers rolled down the register, and was
lost."
We agreed upon the thimble. Then Enid went to Miss Coningham, and
gained permission for us to go down to the jeweller's. So the five
other girls left the selection of the thimble to us, and went down
stairs.
"Wasn't 'Cony' good?" said Sallie. "Little did she suspect our
object."
"Would it be a bad idea to ask her to feast with us to-night?"
"Not at all bad. Do you believe she'll come?"
"Very doubtful. Who will ask Madame if we may have the feast?"
"I," said Sallie; "my life for my country."
We bought a beautiful gold thimble for six dollars, and spent the
rest for flowers; then hurried home to open the boxes, and get
everything ready before study hour.
"What shall we do for a table-cloth?"
"Take a fresh sheet," said Sallie.
"Isn't there anything better?" asks Ida.
"Positively nothing," answered Sallie, throwing a sheet at her.
"Take this, and be thankful it isn't sheet lightning that strikes
you. Now I start for my interview with Madame."
"Good luck attend you! Enid, put the flowers in the centre, with a
lemon pie at one side and a mince at the other."
"Here is a roast chicken," I cried. "Ida, put it at one end."
"Enid," called Gertie, "here's a duck in my box; put him opposite
the chicken."
"'Dido _et dux_,'" said Enid.
"Well," answered Gertie, "I'm glad she didn't eat them all."
Here Sallie came in, triumphant.
"I showed her the thimble, girls, and told her all about
everything, and she says we five and the other five and Miss
Coningham--Elsie, she called her--can come up here right after
prayers, and stay till ten o'clock."
"Could anything be jollier?"
"She says Elsie was our age when she first came here, and was as
full of fun as we are."
Then I found your note, saying there were _A_pples for Anna,
_E_ggs for Enid, _G_rapes for Gertie, _I_nglish walnuts for Ida,
and _S_ardines for Sallie. We saw how hard up you were for I's,
but we'd rather have the nuts than anything.
We had just got everything in order when the study bell rang. You
can scarcely mention a "goody" that was not in one of those boxes.
Gertie had a birthday cake with fifteen tapers on it, which we
lighted.
I can't begin to tell you what a jolly time we had when we came
back up stairs. All our invitations were accepted. Miss Coningham
was charmed with the thimble. We "toasted" all you good people at
home who were the cause of our joy, and sent the flowers to Madame
when our revelry was o'er.
By-the-way, the boots are exactly right. Now, with the love and
thanks of all the Aegises, I must close, for I haven't touched a
lesson for to-morrow.
Lovingly, gratefully, and thankfully yours,
ANNA I. CLIFFORD.
THE BABY ELEPHANT.
On the 10th of this month an event occurred in Philadelphia that has
aroused universal curiosity and interest. It was the birth of a baby
elephant, which immediately became famous as being the first of his
kind, so far as is known, ever born in captivity. All other elephants
brought to this country for exhibition, or used in Eastern countries as
beasts of burden, have been captured and tamed, and it has heretofore
been regarded as an unquestioned fact that they would not breed in
captivity.
The mother of the cunning little fellow who is attracting so much
attention is a large black Asiatic elephant named Hebe, and belongs to
the Great London Circus. She is acknowledged by all the other elephants
of the circus as their queen, and they are all loyally devoted to her.
She and six other large elephants have been spending the winter in a
stable at the corner of Twenty-third Street and Ridge Avenue,
Philadelphia. Here the elephants stand in a large room, each with their
hind-legs chained to posts.
[Illustration: THE EXCITED ELEPHANTS.]
Immediately upon the birth of the little elephant the others seemed to
become crazy with joy. They had been very quiet, but they now set up the
most tremendous bellowing and trumpeting imaginable. Some of them broke
their chains, and danced about in the most grotesque manner, besides
performing all the tricks they had been taught in the circus ring. The
general excitement communicated itself to Hebe, and in a moment she
became the most frantic of them all. Snapping the chains that bound her
to the posts as though they were threads, and apparently becoming, for
the first time, aware of the presence of her baby, she seized him with
her trunk and threw him with great force, twenty yards or more, to the
opposite side of the room. He fell close beside a large stove, around
which was a railing of heavy timbers. Rushing after him, his crazy
mother beat down this railing, threw over the stove, and in her madness
would probably have killed her baby, had not her keeper, who had fled
for his life upon the first outbreak, returned with help, and attracted
her attention. With considerable difficulty she was secured and again
chained to the posts, and the other animals were also quieted. During
all the confusion the baby had stood motionless in the place to which
his mother had flung him, and had regarded the whole scene with a look
of wise solemnity such as only a baby can assume.
When quiet was restored, he became very frisky, and was willing to make
friends with everybody. He ran about with his mouth wide open, and his
little trunk pointing upward in the funniest way possible. He blundered
about here and there, running against all sorts of things, and finally
seemed overjoyed to be taken back to his mother, who has ever since
shown the greatest fondness for him. He is thirty-five inches high, and
weighs 214 pounds, so that he is about the size of a large Newfoundland
dog. He is fed by means of a nursing-bottle made of a yard of rubber
hose and a large funnel. One end of the hose is put in his mouth, and
the other is attached to the funnel, into which the keepers pour warm
milk until the baby shows that he has had enough by throwing down his
end of the tube.
PRACTICAL JOKES.
BY FRANK BELLEW.
As a general rule, practical jokes are a kind of fun that should not be
encouraged; but there are a few harmless ones which may be made the
means of a good deal of innocent merriment.
Tom Hood, who was one of the most kindly and genial of men, as well as
one of the greatest of poets, was very fond of playing little practical
jokes on members of his own family and immediate circle of intimate
friends. On one occasion, when his wife had made a magnificent English
plum-pudding, as a Christmas present for some German friends, Hood
surreptitiously got hold of it, and filled it with wooden skewers, which
he ran through in every direction, and in this condition it was sent by
the unsuspicious Mrs. Hood to her friends in Germany, who no doubt
thought English cookery a most eccentric art.
On another occasion he wrote as follows, from London, to an intimate
friend, one Lieutenant Franck, of the Prussian army:
"I also send for yourself an imitation gold-fish. It appears that there
is something in the color or taste of the gold-fish which renders it
irresistible to other fish as a bait. They are quite mad after it. It
appears to be intended to be sunk with a weight, and pulled about under
water, or else to float on the top; but they say it is taken in anyway."
[Illustration: Fig. 1.]
This wonderful bait was made of wood, and painted yellow, or covered
with gilt paper, and presented an appearance like the annexed engraving.
[Illustration: Fig. 2.]
But under this innocent exterior lurked Tom Hood's joke. The fish was
made of two pieces of wood, like Fig. 2, glued or gummed together, only
one of which was attached to the line, and on this piece was burned,
with a red-hot knitting-needle, the words, "_O, you April fool!_" Of
course, after the sportsman had dragged this about in the water for some
time, the glue melted, the loose half of the bait floated away, and when
he hauled in his line to see how things were getting along, he
discovered the inscription, and at the same time that he had been made a
_fool_ of, whether it happened to be April or not.
THE CLOCK BEWITCHED.
I was once at one of those little social gatherings which the Scotch
call a "cooky-shine," and the English a "tea-fight," where two young
ladies appeared escorted by a rustic beau (for be it known this was in
the country), who, like many beaux from both city and country, had a
very well-developed opinion of his own shrewdness and sagacity, of which
opinion he gave several rather obtrusive illustrations during the course
of the evening. This peculiarity, added to the fact that, quite early in
the festivities, he displayed an anxiety to hurry the young ladies home
in the midst of their enjoyment, made him anything but popular. The fact
was that the young man, having exhausted his limited stock of
conversation, grew bored and sleepy, and wanted to go home himself. Not
being able to accomplish this, he seated himself in an obscure corner
of the room, where he soon dropped off into a doze. Now among the
company was a little imp of a boy, a son of the hostess, who seemed to
feel himself called upon to amuse the rest of the guests. He whispered a
few words in his sister's ear, and then left the room. In about fifteen
minutes the drowsy beau woke up with a start, and asked what o'clock it
was.
"I really don't know," responded one of the ladies. "What time was it
when you went to sleep?"
"Sleep--sleep! I haven't been to sleep--'wake all the time."
"Indeed you have," chorussed the party; "nearly two hours, and saying
all sorts of things."
[Illustration: WHAT TIME IS IT?]
The youth looked blank, and rather frightened, but tried to brave it
out. "Oh, pshaw! two hours. Sleep!--why, I haven't been to sleep
ten--that's to say, I've been awake the whole time. Now we'll see." And
he arose and walked into the next room, which was rather dimly lighted,
to look at the clock. He remained there a long time, shuffling about,
and emitting sundry whiffs and snorts, and then rejoined the company,
rubbing his eyes, and rumpling his hair all over his head, with an
expression of bewilderment on his countenance which set every one
present tittering.
"All right," he said. "Guess't's 'bout time to start home."
"Oh no, not yet," answered the hostess. "We are going to have some cider
and doughnuts."
The cider and doughnuts were brought in and handed round, the sleepy
beau receiving his last. He took a good Irish bite. A pause. Something
was the matter. He pulled, he gnawed, he wrestled, he grunted, he
struggled: it was no use; that doughnut was too much for him. Suddenly,
with a quick motion worthy of the late lamented Mr. Grimaldi, he whipped
the doughnut out of his mouth and into his pocket. He thought he was
unobserved, but a roar of rustic laughter from all sides of the room
soon undeceived him. We will draw a veil over the scene, etc., etc., as
the novels say. In a few seconds his two fair charges, in charity,
proposed to go home; and they went.
Now what was this all about? I will tell you. When the young imp left
the room, as before mentioned, he slipped into the back parlor, turned
down the lights, and carried the clock off into the kitchen, where with
some Indian ink and a brush he marked on its face half a dozen extra
hands. He then replaced the clock on the mantelpiece in the parlor, and
returning to the kitchen, procured two small balls of cotton batting,
which he soaked in some batter the cook was using for doughnuts, and
these he fried till they exactly resembled the genuine article the cook
had just made. He had previously let the ladies into the secret, so that
when the sleepy beau went into the back parlor to look at the clock, as
they took care he should, they perfectly knew the bewildered frame of
mind he was in while trying to find out the time. The sister, too, while
handing round the doughnuts, managed to reserve the cotton ones for the
same gentleman.
The next day our hostess received a polite note from the discomfited
escort, thanking her for the gift of the doughnut, which he said had
been of infinite value to him, as he had given it to a neighbor's dog
which kept him awake all night, and the dog had since died. So he took
it good-naturedly, after all.
[Illustration]
THE JOLLY DOG'S PRACTICAL JOKE.
'Twas near dinner-time, and the pudding was hot,
Nelly, her cheeks all aglow
(The master liked icy-cold pudding), ran out,
And popped the dish into the snow.
For though on that morn smiling April was born,
A snow-heap that March left behind,
When he hastened away, in a dark corner lay
Of the garden, blown there by the wind.
Singing merrily, back to the kitchen went Nell,
When a jolly dog came up the lane.
"Aha! something good!" and he stopped and he sniffed,
Looked around, cocked his ears, sniffed again.
Then, the gate being open, he boldly walked in,
Going straight to the snowy spot where
The dish sat a-cooling--three great gulps he gave,
And a pudding no longer was there.
Down the stoop flew the maid. "I must now take it in,
For I'm sure by this time it is cool."
Said the dog, running off, "Pray don't trouble yourself;
_I_ have taken it in--April-fool!"
[Illustration: OUR POST-OFFICE BOX.]
CHATTANOOGA, TENNESSEE.
I wonder if the readers of YOUNG PEOPLE know how delightful the
climate and surroundings of Chattanooga are. Near the base of
Lookout Mountain, which has grown historical since the war, the
views in all directions are magnificent, that from the point on
the mountain being the grandest, where one can see places in seven
different States. Chattanooga is an Indian word, meaning eagle's
nest.
PAUL DWIGHT MOROSS.
* * * * *
TRAVERSE CITY, MICHIGAN.
I live in a lonesome country, but it is very beautiful in the
summer. We have nice lakes and woods, and all kinds of birds.
There is a little bird which builds such a queer nest. It is like
a hanging cup, and so small you scarcely notice it. There are five
white eggs, with black spots on the ends, in it. The bird is
blackish color, with a round white spot in the middle of each
wing. There is a bird here called grosbeak. It is very handsome,
and a splendid singer. You can hear its clear note in the morning
above all the rest. My sister Julia found a nest, and took out a
male bird. It had hardly any feathers. She brought it up on bread
and milk, and it was so tame it would sit on her finger; but one
morning it flew away, and never came back. Perhaps some of the
readers of YOUNG PEOPLE have tamed the little yellow-birds. Julia
tamed one, and it was a great pet. I have a pet dove named Philip.
He will follow me about in the woods. When he misses me, he hunts
till he finds me. When we are eating dinner, if the door is open,
I often hear a pat-pat on the step, and in comes Philip, nodding
his head from side to side, and lights on my shoulder, for me to
give him his dinner. He is now two years old. I will send you his
portrait. I think Bertie Brown drew a first-rate picture.
ALLIE VOORHEES.
* * * * *
TRAVERSE CITY, MICHIGAN.
The first hepaticas (liverwort) that I saw this year were picked
the first day of March. Has any one living in the same latitude
found them earlier? The arbutus is nearly in bloom. When we were
out in the woods the other day we saw a beautiful gray fox.
MABEL BATES.
* * * * *
COLLEGE GROVE, TENNESSEE, _March 1, 1880_.
I send you a violet, and also the earliest wild flower of this
section, _Erigenia_, or "daughter of the early spring" [a species
of groundsel]. We have had crocuses and daffodils ever since
Christmas. I have lots of pets. We have nine cats. One is fourteen
years old. And we have a shepherd dog that has a great deal of
sense. I have three white hens--one top-knot, one plain, and one
with pantalets. I have a chicken grave-yard, and we have funerals.
The red and blue birds, wrens, jays, and woodpeckers, staid with
us all winter. I found a nest of hatched partridge eggs, and the
large ends were all picked round even, and opened like box-tops.
We live in the woods, and I see many pretty things.
ANNA RUCKER.
* * * * *
I am twelve years old. I live on the border of a large lake in the
province of New Brunswick, Canada. Though so far north, our
winters are often mild and pleasant. Father says it is because we
are not far from the sea. I have been ill with acute rheumatism
for six months past, and the weekly visits of YOUNG PEOPLE are a
great comfort and pleasure to me, as I am mostly confined to the
house. I found some willow "pussies" three days ago (March 4), and
I send a few, to let you see what New Brunswick can do in this
way.
W. SCOTT BUTLER, Jun.
* * * * *
BETHANY, MISSOURI.
I see so many little folks writing to you, I thought I would write
too. I am eight years old, and I live where the sun goes down. I
never saw a railroad in my life, and never went to school. Mamma
teaches us at home. I have a cream-colored pony, and sister Grace
has a pet lamb. She had to get a baby's nursing-bottle to raise
the lamb with, and it is just too funny to see her feed it. It
sucks away at the bottle as hard as ever it can, and wags its
little tail ever so fast. We have learned nearly all we know from
HARPER'S MAGAZINE and the BAZAR and WEEKLY, for papa and mamma
have taken them all our lives. We could not do without the
pictures. I wish you could see our stacks and heaps of the MONTHLY
and the papers. When we want a good old time, we get them all out,
and they are as good as new. We think there never was such a
splendid paper as YOUNG PEOPLE. My sister Grace wanted to write to
you too, but mamma said one nuisance was enough at a time.
NELLIE BLACKBURN.
* * * * *
CROOKSTON, MINNESOTA.
I borrowed HARPER'S YOUNG PEOPLE of one of my neighbors, and I
like it so much I intend to take it as soon as I can earn money
enough to pay for it. I am a cripple boy. I have no feet. One was
cut off below and one above the knee, and when I move round I have
to go on my hands. I want a pair of Newfoundland dogs for a team,
but I can not find where I can get them. I knit a pair of mittens,
and sold them to help pay for YOUNG PEOPLE, and now I am mending
grain bags to earn the rest of the money. I am fond of reading,
and feel lonesome without books and papers.
ELMER R. BLANCHARD.
* * * * *
SALT LAKE, UTAH TERRITORY.
Father wants me to tell you that he made me a telescope of
sheet-iron as you described in the first number of YOUNG PEOPLE,
and although my object-glass is only one and one-quarter inches in
diameter, we can plainly see Jupiter's four moons. Jupiter itself
appears as big as a nickel five-cent piece. We can also see the
rings of Saturn. But when we look at anything on the earth, it is
turned upside down. This glass gives us a great deal of pleasure.
OLAF THOMASSEN.
* * * * *
TERRYVILLE, CONNECTICUT.
My uncle caught two young gray squirrels in the woods, and brought
them home in a cage. We gave them walnuts and chestnuts, but they
were so cross they bit each other's tails, which when they were
little looked more like rats' tails than squirrels'. When we let
them out of the cage, they soon learned to go into my uncle's
pockets after nuts. Then they would sit on his head or shoulder
and eat them. When we gave them more than they could eat, they
would hide them on the ground, and cover them with leaves and dry
grass. They did it so neatly that even when we saw where they put
them, we would have to hunt a long time to find them. When it came
warm weather, they went back to the woods. What do squirrels live
on in summer before the nuts are ripe?
ANGIE B. BALDWIN.
Squirrels eat all kinds of berries, the tender twigs and bark of certain
trees, and grain. Corn fields are feasting grounds for them, as the
fresh tender stalks are as delicious food as the fully formed kernels.
* * * * *
CLARKSVILLE, NEBRASKA.
I want to tell you about a ride I had the other day with papa and
mamma. We drove out about four miles from here, to a prairie-dog
town, where we saw hundreds of these little animals playing about
in the sunshine. The prairie-dogs are very curious little
creatures. They dig their holes, throwing out the earth so as to
make quite a mound. They look very cunning from a distance,
standing on their hind-legs. Some were near their holes, ready to
jump in as soon as we drove near. Others, which were a good way
off from their homes, scampered back as fast as they could. Their
town covered about a section of land, so you can see they have
quite a large city.
PAUL BEARDSLEY.
* * * * *
BROOKLYN, NEW YORK.
Last spring we had a pretty pair of canaries, and we raised five
little birds. They were dear little things, and before we gave any
of them away it was great fun to watch them play together. One was
very light yellow, nearly white, another was dark yellow, two were
spotted with green, and one was all very dark green. The green one
was the prettiest of all, but it always fought for the best place
in the cage, and pecked at all the others; but if they fought,
they always made up after it. The yellow one was very tame, and
would come right to our hands to eat. The lightest one died, and
the others we gave away, but we were very sorry to part with them.
FROGGIE.
The following was written in big printed letters:
If you put Froggie's letter in your paper, I hope you will put
mine in. I can't write as he can, because I am only five years
old. I like your paper very much. Froggie reads it to me, and I
read the pictures myself. I like that picture of the pussy.
FROGGIE'S LITTLE BROTHER.
* * * * *
READING, PENNSYLVANIA.