Joe was alone on the St. Lawrence in the middle of the night, and with a
sprained wrist, which nearly disabled him so far as paddling was
concerned. Worse than this, his comrades had disappeared, and there
could not be the slightest doubt that their canoes had floated away with
them while they were sound asleep. What chance had he of finding them?
How could he get ashore, with his sprained wrist; and what probability
was there that the three boys thus carried away in their sleep would
escape from their dangerous situation without any serious accident?
As these questions presented themselves to Joe his first impulse was to
admit that he was completely disheartened and to burst into tears. He
was, however, far too manly to yield to it, and he immediately began to
think what was the best thing that he could do in the circumstances.
The water was perfectly smooth, so that there was really no danger that
the runaway canoes would capsize, unless their owners should start up in
a fright, and not fully understand that their canoes were no longer on
solid land. Neither was there much chance that they would be run down by
steamboats, for the steamboat channel was near the south shore of the
river, a long distance from the sand-spit. Joe remembered how fast the
tide had risen the day before, and he calculated that the missing canoes
must have been afloat about half an hour before the water reached the
place where he was sleeping. They would naturally drift in the same
direction in which the _Dawn_ was drifting; and all that it would be
necessary for Joe to do in order to overtake them would be to increase
the speed at which his canoe was moving.
There was a scarcely perceptible breeze blowing from the south. Joe got
up his mainmast and set his sail. Light as the breeze was, the canoe
felt it, and began to move through the water. Joe steered by the stars,
and kept the _Dawn_ as nearly as possible on the course which he
supposed the other canoes had taken. He had no lantern with him, and
could see but a little distance ahead in the dark, but he shouted every
few moments, partly in order to attract the attention of any of the
missing canoeists, and partly in order to warn any other boat that might
be in the neighborhood not to run him down.
After sailing in this way for at least an hour, and hearing no sound
whatever but his own voice and the creaking of the canoe's spars, Joe
was startled at perceiving a black object just ahead of him. He avoided
it with a vigorous movement of his paddle, and as he drifted close to it
with the wind shaken out of his sail he saw to his great delight that it
was a canoe.
It was the _Sunshine_, with her canoe-tent rigged over her, and her
commander sound asleep. Taking hold of her gunwale, Joe drew the two
canoes together, and put his hand gently on Harry's forehead. Harry
instantly awoke, and hearing Joe begging him as he valued his life to
lie perfectly still, took the latter's advice, and asked, with some
alarm, what was the matter. When he learned that he was adrift on the
river he sat up, took down his tent, and getting out his paddle, joined
in the search for Tom and Charley.
"They must be close by," said Harry, "for all three canoes must have
floated away at the same time. Tom and Charley sleep sounder than I do,
and if I didn't wake up, it's pretty certain that they didn't."
Presently Charley's canoe was overtaken. Charley had been awakened by
the sound of Harry's paddle and the loud tone in which Harry and Joe
were talking. He was sitting up when the _Dawn_ and the _Sunshine_
overtook him; and having comprehended the situation in which he found
himself on awaking, he was making ready to paddle ashore.
There was now only one canoe missing--the _Twilight_. Harry, Joe, and
Charley took turns in shouting at the top of their lungs for Tom, but
they could obtain no answer except the echo from the cliffs of the north
shore. They paddled up the river until they were certain that they had
gone farther than Tom could possibly have drifted, and then turned and
paddled down stream, shouting at intervals, and growing more and more
alarmed at finding no trace of the lost canoe.
"She can't have sunk, that's one comfort," exclaimed Harry, "for the
bladders that Tom put in her at Chambly would keep her afloat, even if
he did manage to capsize her in the dark."
"He took the bladders out yesterday morning, and left them on the sand
just in the lee of his canoe," said Charley. "Don't you remember that he
sponged her out after we landed, and that he said that he wouldn't put
his things back into her until we were ready to start?"
"I remember it now," replied Harry. "And I remember that I did the same
thing. There's nothing in my canoe now except my water-proof bag and my
blankets. But they're not of much consequence compared with Tom. Boys,
do you really think he's drowned?"
"Of course he isn't," cried Joe. "We'll find him in a few minutes. He
must be somewhere near by, and he's sleeping so sound that he don't hear
us. You know how hard it is to wake him up."
"Tom is a first-rate swimmer, and if he has spilled himself out of his
canoe, and she has sunk, he has swum ashore," said Charley. "My opinion
is that we had better stay just where we are until daylight, and then
look for him along the shore. He's worth a dozen drowned fellows,
wherever he is."
Charley's advice was taken, and the boys waited for daylight as
patiently as they could. Daylight--or rather dawn--came in the course of
an hour, but not a glimpse of the missing canoe did it afford. The tide
had already changed, and the top of the treacherous sand-spit was once
more above water, and not very far distant from the canoes. As soon as
it was certain that nothing could be seen of Tom on the water, his
alarmed comrades paddled toward the north shore, hoping that they might
find him, and possibly his canoe, somewhere at the foot of the rocks.
They were again unsuccessful. While Joe sailed up and down along the
shore, the two other boys paddled close to the rocks, and searched every
foot of space where it would have been possible for a canoe to land, or
a canoeist to keep a footing above the water. They had searched the
shore for a full mile above the sand-spit, and had paddled back nearly
half the way, when they were suddenly hailed; and looking up, saw Tom
standing on a ledge of rock ten feet above the water.
"Are you fellows going to leave me here all day?" demanded Tom. "I began
to think you were all drowned, and that I'd have to starve to death up
here."
[Illustration: "HOW IN THE WORLD DID YOU GET UP THERE?"]
"How in the world did you get up there?" "Where were you when we came by
here half an hour ago?" "Where's your canoe?" "Are you all right?" These
and a dozen other questions were hurled at Tom by his excited and
overjoyed friends.
"I was asleep until a few minutes ago," replied Tom. "I got up here when
the tide was high, and I had hard work to do it, too."
"What's become of your canoe? Is she lost?" asked Harry.
"She's somewhere at the bottom of the river. I tried to turn over in her
in the night, thinking she was on the sand-spit, but she turned over
with me, and sunk before I could make out what had happened."
"And then you swam ashore?"
"Yes. I saw the north-star, and knew that if I could swim long enough, I
could find the shore. When I struck these rocks I was disappointed, for
I couldn't find a place where I could land until I got my hands on this
ledge, and drew myself up."
"Unless Tom wants to stay where he is, we'd better invent some way of
taking him with us," remarked Joe.
"He'll have to get into my canoe," said Harry.
"How deep is the water where you are?" asked Tom.
"It's anywhere from six feet to sixty. I can't touch bottom with the
paddle, so it's certain to be more than seven-feet deep."
"Then, if you'll please to give me room, I'll jump, and somebody can
pick me up."
Tom jumped into the water, and had little trouble in climbing into
Harry's canoe, the water being perfectly quiet. The fleet then paddled
back to the sand-spit, where they landed and breakfasted, while Tom
dried his clothes by the fire.
Every member of the expedition except Joe had lost something, and poor
Tom had lost his canoe and everything except the clothes which he was
wearing. As long as the water continued to be smooth Tom could be
carried in either Harry's or Charley's canoe, but in case the wind and
sea should rise it would be very difficult, if not impossible, to keep
the canoe right side up with two persons in her. Quebec was still at
least twenty-five miles distant, and it would take nearly a whole day of
very hard work to paddle a heavy canoe, with two boys in her, only one
of whom was furnished with a paddle, twenty-five miles, even in the most
favorable circumstances. Moreover, Joe's sprained wrist made it
impossible for him to paddle, and the wind was so light that sailing to
Quebec was out of the question.
It was therefore decided that Harry should take Joe in the _Sunshine_
back to the Jacques Cartier, and leaving him to walk to the nearest
railway station, should return to the sand-spit and join Tom and Charley
in paddling down to Quebec, Tom taking Joe's canoe. Although the boys
had originally intended to end their cruise at Quebec, they had become
so fond of canoeing that they would gladly have gone on to the Saguenay
River and, if possible, to Lake St. John; but now that Tom was without a
canoe, no one thought of prolonging the cruise.
Quebec was reached by the fleet several hours after Joe had arrived
there by the train. He was at the landing-place to meet his comrades,
and had already made a bargain with a canal-boat man to carry the canoes
all the way to New York for five dollars each. As the _Sunshine_ was
fitted with hatches which fastened with a lock, and as it would be
necessary for the Custom-house officer at Rouse's Point to search her,
Harry wrote to the Custom-house at that place, giving directions how to
open the lock. It was a padlock without a key, one of the so-called
letter-locks which can be opened by placing the letters in such a
position that they spell some particular word. Harry had provided the
canoe with this lock expressly in order to avoid trouble at
Custom-houses, and in this instance the plan proved completely
successful, for the officer at Rouse's Point was able to unlock the
canoe and to lock it up again without a key.
The boys spent a night and a day at Quebec, and, after seeing their
canoes safely started, they took the train for New York. As they talked
over their cruise on the way home they agreed that canoeing was far more
delightful than any other way of cruising, and that they would go on a
canoe cruise every summer.
"As soon as I can afford it I shall get a new canoe," said Tom.
"Will you get a 'Rice Laker'?" asked Harry.
"Of course I will. My canoe was much the best boat in the fleet, and I
shall get another exactly like her."
"There's no doubt that you are a genuine canoeist, Tom," said Charley.
"You've had lots of trouble with your canoe because she had no deck, and
at last she sank and nearly drowned you, because she had no water-tight
compartments; but for all that you really think that she was the best
canoe ever built. Is everybody else convinced that his own canoe is the
best in the world?"
"I am," cried Joe.
"And I am," cried Harry.
"So am I," added Charley; "and as this proves that we are all thorough
canoeists, we will join the American Canoe Association, and cruise under
its flag next summer."
THE END.
HOW TO MAKE A TOOL CHEST.
BY AN OLD BOY.
Carpentering is such a useful, healthy, and pleasing employment that
boys will do well to learn the use of tools for convenience in making
their own toys, traps, sleds, etc., even if they are never called upon
to do some little "job" for their mothers.
Of course if a boy can afford to buy a full set of tools and chest, this
particular article will have but little interest for him, as it is
especially intended for those who must begin on an economical scale.
The tools absolutely needed, and which can be purchased for the least
money, are: a handsaw, about 20 inches long, which can be used to cut
crosswise as well as lengthwise of the wood; a tenon-saw, about 12
inches long, for cutting dovetails, and also across the grain of the
wood; a smoothing-plane, about 8 inches long by 2-1/2 inches broad; a
mallet; a joiner's hammer; a two-foot rule of box-wood; a set square;
two chisels, one an eighth of an inch broad, and the other
three-eighths; a screw-driver; a marking gauge; a gimlet; a brace, with
four or five bits of different sizes; a medium-sized gouge; and a
bench-dog to hold the wood on the bench when it is being planed. With
this assortment of tools the amateur carpenter will get on very well,
and he can add to the stock as he grows more expert in the business.
Do not make the mistake of undertaking a too elaborate piece of work at
first, for it is only by practice that you can come anywhere near
perfection; but let your first work be to make a box for your tools, and
see how neat a job you can make of it. You will want one about 2 feet
long, 21 inches broad, and 10-1/2 inches deep, for which the following
material will be required: 12 feet half-inch pine-wood 11 inches wide,
one pair of hinges or butts, 12 screws half an inch long, lock and key,
glue, and brads.
Cut the wood into pieces, as follows: For the sides, two pieces 24-1/2
inches long; for the ends, two pieces 21-1/2 inches long; for the lid,
two pieces 24-1/2 inches long; for the bottom, two pieces 24 inches
long. These dimensions should be marked off on the board with a rule and
pencil before they are cut. The sides and the ends should be planed on
both sides, and the top and bottom edges planed true and square. The
breadth of the wood will be 10-1/2 inches.
[Illustration: FIG. 1.]
[Illustration: FIG. 2.]
[Illustration: FIG. 3.]
The best joint is the "dovetail." Fig. 1 shows the side with the
"dovetail" cut; Fig. 2, the end with the points cut; and Fig. 3 shows
the joint finished.
[Illustration: FIG. 4.]
To make the joint: on one of the sides of the box mark off lines with
the square 2 feet apart; also mark off lines 23 inches apart, and call
these lines A and B, as in Fig. 4. Mark on the line A points every inch
and half-inch alternately; on the line B mark off a point seven-eighths
of an inch from B, and then points for every six-eighths of an inch.
[Illustration: FIG. 5.]
Now draw lines from the points on line A to the points on line B, as
shown in Fig. 5. Cut with a tenon-saw from C to D and from E to F,
treating each dovetail in the same way. With a chisel cut the piece out
so as to form a dovetail, as in Fig. 1. The pins are now to be drawn to
correspond with the dovetails, which can be done by placing the
dovetails just made over the end of the short sides, or ends, and
marking them with a pencil. When this is done, make lines 20 inches
apart; cut the pins down to this line with the tenon-saw. In cutting the
pins, cut outside the pencil lines. The space can then be cut out with a
chisel.
When all the pieces have been done in this manner, they should be coated
with thin glue, and then hammered well together. When dry, the
projecting ends of the pins and dovetails may be trimmed off with a
chisel. This is called the "shell" of the box.
The bottom is to be put on next. Plane the two pieces 24 inches long by
11 inches wide, and fit them neatly in the shell. They should be nailed
from outside the box.
[Illustration: FIG. 6.]
The lid pieces are planed up next so as to fit _outside_ the shell. Fig.
6 is the box when finished. A is a piece of wood two inches deep, nailed
on the lid to keep it square on the box; B B is a beading of wood nailed
on the box to make a strong base; and also to protect the edges from
chipping.
[Illustration: A SPLENDID TEAM.]
[Illustration]
WILD-DUCKS.
Pretty pair of wild-ducks
Upon the water clear
To and fro softly go,
Whilst heron fishes near.
I wonder if they see two eyes
Peep at them where they pass.
For Humphrey sly, with gun close by,
Is crouching on the grass;
They _may_ not see, but--oh, dear me!
I hope they'll fly away.
With might and main, to come again
Quite safe another day.
OUR POST-OFFICE BOX.
With this number Volume III. of HARPER'S YOUNG PEOPLE reaches its
conclusion. Next week we shall begin Volume IV.
It has given us very great pleasure to learn from the little people who
have written to the Post-office Box how delighted they have been with
the beautiful pictures, fascinating serials, droll sketches, and amusing
short stories which HARPER'S YOUNG PEOPLE has brought them so regularly.
We have tried to forget nobody. The big brothers have found tales of
adventure and experiments in science for their special entertainment.
The young ladies have been provided with useful hints for the
work-table, and suggestions for novel and pretty things in home
decoration. The wee tots have had silvery jingles and funny rhymes. The
keen-witted little fellows and the clever girls who like to crack such
nuts have had plenty to do in making or solving the puzzles which have
been given in every number. Occasional pieces of music have tempted the
little pianists and vocalists of the future. The Wiggles continue to
stimulate the skill of little artists.
Nothing has gratified the publishers more than their success in
satisfying careful parents and teachers who desire to furnish their
young folks with wholesome, sprightly, and interesting reading. The
private letters which they have received from many sources, as well as
the unanimous verdict of the press, encourage them to persevere in
making YOUNG PEOPLE better and better, so that the future may be as
brilliant as the past has been promising.
The Post-office Box is a very popular department with all our readers.
Its columns are open to all, and are lovingly and carefully edited from
week to week. It affords the children an opportunity to see and hear how
life is conducted in different places. To older eyes it presents
captivating pictures of child life, and of the delights of children
everywhere--in the city, on the farm, abroad, in school, on the lonely
outpost in the far West, and around the mother's knee in the happy home.
The Exchange Department is educational, and while it assists our young
readers in adding to their collections, it enables them to learn
something practically of geography and history, and puts at their
disposal one more resource against idleness and the mischief it bring in
its train.
Our next volume will be brighter and more attractive than any which has
preceded it. We have many good things in store, and we shall spare
neither pains nor expense to make HARPER'S YOUNG PEOPLE the leading
weekly periodical in the world for English-speaking children.
The price--$1.50 per year--places it within the means of all. We hope
our present subscribers will try to obtain new ones. Boys and girls can
do this by simply showing the paper to their friends. Our list is a very
long one now, but we wish to make it longer, for the larger the number
of subscribers, the fuller of entertainment and instruction, of beauty
and fun, can we afford to make YOUNG PEOPLE.
Let everybody, therefore, join hands with us, and help along. The
beginning of a new volume is a good time to subscribe.
* * * * *
SCENERY HILL, PENNSYLVANIA.
I am a little boy nine years old. I have three little sisters;
their names are Margie, Jessie, and Nellie. Margie is six years
old, Jessie is five, and Nellie is three. I live at West
Alexandria, Penn. My papa is a school-teacher, and I go to school.
Now I am on a visit at my auntie's, and have been for the last
three months. They have no little boy here, so I have plenty to do
and a little time to play. I have made a Noah's Ark out of stiff
paper. My auntie is helping me make the animals. We take the paper
double, gum the pattern on, leaving the head or back joined, and
when done they will stand upright. I have been taking YOUNG PEOPLE
two years, and like it very much. Auntie gave it to me for a
present. I did not like the way "Mr. Stubbs's Brother" ended.
W. S. H.
* * * * *
The kind lady who sends us this story of her pet squirrel will always
find a corner ready for her in the Post-office Box. We have not
forgotten about the motherly hen of which she wrote us once before--the
hen who spread her warm wings over a brood of kittens. The Postmistress
thinks she never heard of anything prettier than the incident in this
letter about the squirrel who tucked her naughty baby in under the maple
leaves:
OUR PET SQUIRREL.
One summer morning, several years ago, we found a gray squirrel
sitting on the arbor by the door, and though a stranger to our
house, she was not at all disturbed by our presence, but seemed
quite at home. All day she played on the trees and fences, coming
nearer and nearer, as if to show us that she was not at all afraid,
but quite used to society. In a few days my little boy and she had
become good friends. She would sit on his knee and eat nuts and
biscuit, but all the while watching him with her bright eyes ready
to spring away, for notwithstanding her pretty gentle ways she
never permitted any one to touch her. She certainly feared being
captured; and I have no doubt she had been a pet, and kept in a
cage, and had run away to taste the sweets of liberty. So we never
interfered with her, and after a while she went to housekeeping in
a cozy corner under the roof of the lodge, and one happy day out
she came with three little squirrels. Oh, what frolics that mother
and her children had! Such racing and chasing across the lawn, and
over the fences, and up in the trees, springing from branch to
branch, and sitting up so cunningly, to eat their treasures of nuts
and seeds! They, were very naughty too, and would peep into the
nests of the robins, and the old birds would chase them, and whip
them with their wings.
The young squirrels never became tame, but the mother grew more and
more familiar, and very saucy she was too. When the servants came
down in the morning, she was always waiting for them by the kitchen
door, impatient for her breakfast; and she would run back and
forth, jump on the table, and tease the cook until she gave her
something to eat. She was very fond of sweet-potatoes, and would
help herself liberally, and would carry off the end of a loaf of
bread half as large as herself.
As the young ones grew up they made nests for themselves, but they
were never half as wise as their mother, and gave us lots of
trouble--filling up a pipe-hole with sticks and straws, gnawing
their way into the loft, and tearing into shreds everything their
pretty hands could hold or their sharp teeth destroy, and racing
over the roof at "peep of day" like a troop of tiny cavalry.
One pair made a home in the crotch of an old apple-tree, and raised
a little family. One afternoon we found that a little one had
strayed into a tree close by the window; it was after sunset, and
bedtime for squirrels, but the little thing had nestled down
between two of the branches, and would not move. The young mother
was greatly distressed; she pushed and pulled, but no, the little
one would not stir. After a while she ran away, and returned with a
bunch of maple leaves in her mouth, which she spread over the baby,
patting them down with her hands; this she did many times until the
little truant was closely covered, and then ran off to where her
good children were safely curled down for the night. When we came
down in the morning the leafy coverlid was off, and the little one
gone.
But no matter how cunning were the young squirrels, the dear old
mother was always our favorite. Many little families she raised in
the corner under the roof; but after three years of her happy life
a swelling came on her throat, and she could not eat. She must have
suffered very much; and she would come to us many times a day as if
for relief, but all we could do was to talk to her, and call her
pet names.
One day she came into the hall and jumped on my little boy's knee:
for the first time she allowed him to stroke and caress her. She
was very gentle, and did everything but talk; and it seemed as if
we ought to have understood that it was her farewell. We offered
her food, but she was very weak, and at length went away, and we
never saw her again. No doubt she left us to die. Dear little
Bunnie! I wonder if you knew how much we loved you!
F. T. C.
* * * * *
STOCKPORT, NEW YORK.
I saw the comet, for the first time, about two weeks ago. I think
that there is something very funny about them--the way that they
rise and set, just like suns with a tail. My father says he thought
when he was a boy that they were angels flying with all their glory
spread out behind them, and again that they were a world on its way
to destruction. There is a parish school here. I go to it. I study
arithmetic, geography, spelling, reading, writing, and then there
is a catechism class which I belong to. There is the Agassiz
Association, which I belong to also. The teacher, Mr. H., is
president of this. But I must stop now. So good-by.
ROBBIE V. R. R.
If you were not a nineteenth-century boy, Robbie, but instead had lived
three or four hundred years ago, you would have been terribly afraid of
so splendid a comet as the one which we have all been gazing at lately
with so much wonder and delight. In the Middle Ages the appearance of a
comet was thought to be a sign of some dreadful evil which would shortly
come to pass, and old and young were thankful when the mysterious orb
was no longer to be seen in the sky.
* * * * *
BRANDY STATION, VIRGINIA.
I have a little sister named Emily, and one day she was very
thirsty, and she put her hands around the pitcher and said, "You
sweet water!" We have three little cousins visiting us now; we have
a very nice time playing together. My brother Frankie was very
proud of his letter. We are going to commence school very soon now.
We have had a good many peaches this year, not in our orchard, but
out on the farm. Good-by, for dinner is ready.
RENA L. S.
* * * * *
FARLEY, VIRGINIA.
I see all the little boys and girls are writing about their pets. I
have a pet dog; he is an immense dog. His color is chestnut brown.
I am trying to tie him, but his neck is so big that every time I
tie him he slips the collar off. I tied it so tightly that it
choked him, but he slipped it. I wish somebody would tell me how to
tie him. The pet duck I told you of before takes care of a pet
chicken that belongs to my sister Rena.
FRANK S., JUN.
I could never have the heart to tie so splendid a dog. I would allow him
his liberty if I were you, Frank. But if any of the boys can think of a
way to help you, they may write to the Post-office Box and give their
method. Only never tie any poor animal so tightly that you choke him. We
would not like such treatment ourselves.
* * * * *
WALTON, NEW YORK.
DEAR POSTMISTRESS,--I thought I would write to you, and tell you
about a nice visit we had from friends. Cousin Temple and I played
cars with my blocks, and when we got tired of playing cars we
played circus with a tin cow and a horse on springs, and then we
picked up leaves, and Temple got a whole bagful of them to carry to
Michigan with him. I send a Wiggle to you. Good-by.
HELEN R. S.
You must have had grand times, dear, especially playing circus. I hope
nothing was broken. Your Wiggle came safely.
* * * * *
LAMBERTVILLE, NEW JERSEY.
I thought I would tell you about my pet, but he is dead now. He was
a cat, and the nicest cat I ever had. He played hide-and-seek with
me, and tag, and a good many other things. We think he was
poisoned. I have a brother who takes your paper, and I take it to
school, and the teacher reads the stories to the boys and girls. I
like Jimmy Brown's stories ever so much. I would like him to come
and see me.
MARY R.
* * * * *
PHILADELPHIA, PENNSYLVANIA.
I am a little girl. I live out in the country during the summer;
papa has a lovely summer home there. We have lovely flowers all
around our house. I have a pet cat; if I sit down to my lunch, she
will come and sit beside me, and will cry until I give her her
lunch, and then she will come up and rub against my skirts, as
much as to say, "Thanks." I have also a dog. We have hot-houses
with lovely rare plants in them.
JULIA L.
* * * * *
CLIFTON, STATEN ISLAND.
We have written to YOUNG PEOPLE once before, and our letter was not
printed. We have ten dolls and four cats, which latter mamma thinks
are entirely too many. They are quite a happy family--grandmother,
mother, and two kittens--one of which we found in the garden, and
it makes quite a nice playmate for the other. We send you two
Wiggle pictures; they are the first we have tried. We like Jimmy
Brown's stories very much, and wish he would write oftener.
LAURA and MARION L. Q.
The Wiggles were duly given to our artist. I agree with your mamma that
four cats are three too many, but I do not expect that you will think as
I do.
* * * * *
The rhymes which follow were "made up" by a little woman of six, and I
think they are very good for one so young:
IN THE BARN.
Once Nellie said to Susie: "It's no fun
Playing in this very hot sun,
Let's go and play with little Rover--
She is nice, with her puppies all;
You take your shade hat out of the clover,
And I will take my parasol."
Then all at once, as they said this,
Came walking along their Uncle Bliss.
"Why, children, where are you going this hot day?"
"Oh, we are going into the barn to play."
"Then, children, I must say good-day--
I hope you'll have fine fun among the hay;
Though I must go, I'll send down Joe,
And you and she will have fun, I know.
Tell Rover to take care of you,
Don't let the calf eat up your shoe;
Now once more I say adieu,
And come each and give a kiss
To your old loving Uncle Bliss."
They went to the barn and opened the door.
There they saw Rover curled up on the floor,
She wanted them to see her puppies three,
And held out her little black paw.
Suddenly they heard a noise--oh, where were the boys?--
In came walking the oxen and all the cows,
Which frightened the children so they hid in the mows;
The dog then did bark and sent them away,
And the children came crawling out of the hay.
Then, as the day grew dim and dark,
And the little dog had ceased to bark,
They said to each other good-night,
And hurried to bed by candle-light,
And soon were tucked all snug in bed,
And on top of each pillow lay a little head.
J. W. K.
And here is another verselet by a six-year-old:
BROOKLYN, NEW YORK.
I have a little sister Agnes six years old, who wrote this verse
about a cat we had, called Romeo, and I think it is so good that I
hope you will print it with this letter in HARPER'S YOUNG PEOPLE.
MAUD.
There dwelt once in a Brooklyn town
A little cat with fur;
Sometimes he would lick himself,
And sometimes he would purr;
His breast was as white as snow,
And this cat's name was Romeo.
* * * * *
Our next letter is from a wide-awake little fellow who will remember
when his hair is gray how he saw the President driving through Boston
streets. Who knows but that O. D. may one day himself be a Governor or a
President. I am very sure that a good many future statesmen are among
the boy readers of YOUNG PEOPLE:
BOSTON, MASSACHUSETTS.
I saw the President last Wednesday when he came to Boston. He rode
in a carriage drawn by four white horses. By his side sat Governor
Long, and in the front of the carriage was the President's son. The
escort was two companies of lancers. All the way down Dover Street
the people were packed; it was nothing but cheers all the way. The
President was then driven to the Common; a salute was fired as he
went through the Charles Street gate. He staid on the Common for
about one hour. As he came up Beacon Street there were people all
along the State-house railing. I never saw so many people in my
life. The Governor kept talking to the President all along Beacon
Street. The President was tired, I think, of having to bow so many
times, for he bowed every time the people cheered.
The procession then went down School Street into Washington Street,
and into Dock Square. The best thing of all was when it stopped on
Commercial Street. He called a bootblack up to his carriage, shook
hands with him, asked him his name, and where he lived.
Do all boys and girls know how envelopes are made? Well, I will
tell you. First 350 sheets of paper are put in a press. Then a
knife in the shape of the envelope is put upon the paper; then the
knife is pressed through the paper, and when they are taken out of
the press they are in the shape of an envelope. Next they have to
be gummed, then folded, and then they are ready for use.
O. D.
* * * * *
ZELIENOPLE, PENNSYLVANIA.
I never have seen a letter in YOUNG PEOPLE from this place, so I
thought I would write one. I was eleven years old the 20th of
August; it was on Sunday, and I was born on Sunday. I have two
sisters and one brother. His name is Willie, and for a long time he
called himself Wibbo Pitto. He is four years old. He often says he
wishes it was the day for HARPER'S "LUNG" PEOPLE to come. I have a
dear little sister almost two years old; her name is Mary. She puts
an _o_ to nearly everything. Our horse's name is Billy, and she
calls him Billo. My other sister's name is Lizzie, and she is nine
years old. I was at the Centennial at Hannastown, Westmoreland
County, in this State, on July 13. One hundred years ago it was
burned by the Indians. I have an uncle living there now. I am
taking music lessons now, and my teacher says I play very well.
Papa gave me HARPER'S YOUNG PEOPLE for a New-year's present, and I
like it very much. I like to read the Post-office Box.
BLANCHE C.
* * * * *
GREEN BAY, WISCONSIN.
Will you please tell me if I can get the back numbers of "Mr.
Stubbs's Brother," and how much they will cost, from No. 127 to
133, both inclusive, and from 136 to 140, both inclusive? And
please tell me what a girl who is fourteen years old, and goes to
school five days in the week, can do to earn money. Please answer
through your paper, and oblige
MARY E. B.
You may procure the numbers you mention by writing to Messrs. Harper &
Brothers. They will cost 48 cents.
I would advise a girl of your age to study hard, and prepare herself to
earn money in future, rather than to try to earn it while going to
school. You might earn some, however, as a young friend of mine did, by
crocheting little sacques and socks for a store. She did this in leisure
moments, and was very well paid. If you know how to darn and patch very
neatly, you might do that on Saturday afternoons for some busy
housekeeper, who would pay you for your work. If I knew more about what
you have learned to do, I could give you better advice.
* * * * *
Tell you what to make for Christmas, Daisy, Belle, and Theo? I am glad,
dear little girls, that you are beginning thus early to think what
pretty and useful gifts you may contrive.
One needs a great deal of time to make presents, which must, of course,
be secrets from those they are intended for until the happy day arrives.
Half the pleasure of Christmas consists in its beautiful surprises.
No gifts are more highly prized than those young people make with their
own hands. It is so delightful, as one looks at a pretty or a useful
thing, to see and feel that weeks and weeks ago a dear and loving child
put her own occupations aside that she might give a token of affection
to a darling mother or a sweet elder sister.
It is always a good plan to find out what people would like or are in
need of. If you listen, you may some morning hear mamma say, "How I wish
I had a pretty breakfast cap or a little shawl to throw over my
shoulders." Perhaps papa will wish, as he is cutting the leaves of his
magazine with his pen-knife, that he had a proper paper-knife. Grandma
may be in want of a work-basket to hold her knitting. Alice may greatly
desire a music-roll. Brother Artie, who often takes little journeys,
would find a use for a pretty contrivance which you could make of
burlaps and work with worsted--a sort of dressing-case to hold combs,
brushes, and razors, the whole rolling up and taking a very little space
in his travelling-bag.
For little children no more useful present can be thought of than a
scrap-book. I have seen some very lovely ones, in which all the pages
were filled with the advertisement cards and pictures which you are so
fond of collecting. I heard of a puzzle scrap-book not long ago. A young
lady made it by cutting out and pasting in order the enigmas, square
words, diamonds, and conundrums which she found in the papers and
magazines taken at her house. This sort of scrap-book would please a
bright, quick-witted boy, and by means of it a family could find a great
deal of fun on a winter evening.
How could you make a paper-cutter? Very easily if you know how to paint,
as many of you do. Take a smooth slender piece of white-wood, and paint
on it a bunch of violets, an ivy leaf, or something else that is pretty.
It is sometimes very pleasant for the boys and girls in a family to form
a little club, and adding what money they have, join together in making
a nice present to papa or mamma. Remember, dears, it is not the cost of
a gift that makes people value it; it is the love it shows on the part
of the giver.
Next week I will tell you of two or three other pretty things.
* * * * *
TO NEW READERS.--We wish to call the attention of our new readers to a
little matter which, while very small indeed to each of them
individually, becomes an affair of importance to the Messrs. Harper &
Brothers, who receive many hundreds of letters every day. All letters
should be fully prepaid at the rate of three cents per half-ounce. No
letter containing writing, even if only a signature, is carried by the
Post-office Department from one city or town to another for one cent, or
for two cents. Three cents is necessary on the very shortest letter, and
if not paid in full by the sender, the deficiency must be made up by the
receiver. Please pay attention to this when writing to the publishers of
your favorite YOUNG PEOPLE.
* * * * *
PUZZLES FROM YOUNG CONTRIBUTORS.
No. 1.
FOUR WORD SQUARES.
1.--1. A tree. 2. A period of time. 3. Low. 4. To perceive.
2.--1. A rustic. 2. A thought. 3. Not distant. 4. Gloomy.
NEPTUNE.
3.--1. An animal. 2. Liquors. 3. To gather. 4. To look closely.
4.--1. A bird. 2. Anger. 3. A monster. 4. To lament.
AUBERY.
* * * * *
No. 2.
THREE DIAMONDS.
1.--1. A letter. 2. A vessel. 3. An Asiatic peninsula. 4. Minstrels. 5.
Wants. 6. A Latin root meaning skill. 7. A letter.
NEPTUNE.
2.--1. A letter. 2. A small and busy insect. 3. A surgical instrument.
4. A boat. 5. A poetic friend of Mr. Pickwick. 6. Stiff. 7. An article
useful in cold weather. 8. A poisonous reptile. 9. A letter.
C. F. H.
3.--1. A letter. 2. An abbreviation. 3. Savory. 4. Figurative. 5. More
refined. 6. A fish found in the Severn River. 7. A letter.
VOGIENE.
* * * * *
No. 3.
ENIGMA.
First is in learn, not in school.
Second in smart, not in fool.
Third is in fast, not in slow.
Fourth is in buzzard, not in crow.
Fifth is in crayon, not in chalk.
Sixth is in run, not in walk.
The whole is the name of a river known
To all who its course on the map have shown.
C. W. S.
* * * * *
ANSWERS TO PUZZLES IN No. 154.
No. 1.
L J
T U N P A P
T E N O R P A N E D
L U N A T I C J A N I T O R
N O T E D P E T I T
R I D D O T
C R
N
N I P
N E G R O
N I G G A R D
P R A T E
O R E
D
No. 2.
T W O N E W H A T
W E D E W E A W E
O D E W E N T E N
No. 3.
Saratoga.
* * * * *
The answer to "Who Was He, and What Did He Invent?" on page 816 of No.
155 is George Stephenson.
* * * * *
Correct answers to puzzles have been received from E. C. DeWitt, Charles
H. Weigle, Aubery, Lulu Laidlaw, "W. H. Eat," Edward F. Stewart, Henry
Berlan, Jun., A. G. C. B., Frank D. Brewster, A. Bloomingdale, Robin
Dyke, Eva Richie, Lou Fairley, Ambrose Edgewood, "Junebug," Roy Dodd,
Michael T., Abe Secor, Carrie F., "Rose-in-Bloom," "Lodestar," "Two
Dromios."
* * * * *
[_For Exchanges, see 2d and 3d pages of cover._]
[Illustration: REBUS.]
ENIGMA.
(_From the German._)
Above a dull gray sea behold
A bridge of opal gleaming bright;
Ere one swift moment could be told
It sprung up to its giddy height.
The mightiest ship, with tallest mast,
Beneath its arch could issue free.
No foot across it e'er hath passed;
Approach it, and it seems to flee.
It rises where the streams abound,
And falls when'er the floods are laid.
Now tell me where that bridge is found,
And who its mighty arch has made.
* * * * *
MINING UNDER THE OCEAN.
Mines under the earth are, indeed, interesting places to visit, but
mines under the sea are more wonderful still. In England the latter are
quite common, and great mineral riches have been extracted from rocks
beneath the rolling ocean.
The St. Just Cornish mining district, on the borders of the Atlantic,
has been long celebrated for the peculiar position of its mines, which
extend thousands of feet under the bottom of the sea. The Botallack Mine
extends some three thousand feet below the level of the ocean, and in
what is called the Crowns the excavations have been carried upward of
half a mile out under the water, which distance has been gradually
increasing, in consequence of the ore dipping rapidly away seaward. The
rocks under the sea have been worked away so close in some places that
only a few feet of rock remain to keep out the waters of the Atlantic.
Even in the finest weather the rolling of the pebbles with the swell of
the ocean can be heard with greater distinctness than on the beach
itself, and during great storms the noise is so appalling that, although
certain that there is no real danger, the workmen are often anxious.
A writer who was once underground in the same mine during a storm says:
"At the extremity of the mine-workings little could be heard of its
effects except at intervals, when the reflux of some unusually large
wave projected a pebble outward, bounding and rolling over the rocky
bottom; but when standing beneath the base of the cliff, and in that
part of the mine where but nine feet of rock stood between us and the
ocean, the heavy roll of the large bowlders, the ceaseless grinding of
the pebbles, the fierce thundering of the billows, with the crackling
and boiling as they rebounded, placed a tempest in its most appalling
form too vividly before me to be ever forgotten. More than once,
doubting the protection of our rocky shield, we retreated in affright,
and it was only after repeated trials that we had confidence to pursue
our investigations."
* * * * *
[Illustration: CIRCUMSTANCES ALTER CASES.
"WHAT! _ALL_ THAT FOR GRANDPA?"
"NO, DARLING; IT'S FOR YOU."
"OH, WHAT A LITTLE BIT!"]
End of Project Gutenberg's Harper's Young People, October 31, 1882, by Various