FIGHTING A WATER-SPOUT.
"Anything wrong below, Smith?"
"Well, sir, she's got a precious list to port, and the water's runnin'
into the fire-room like anythin'. Seems to come from under the coals."
"Have them shifted at once, then, and see what's wrong."
"Ay, ay, sir."
Frank had overheard the fireman's report to the first officer, and a
thought struck him. Walking aft till he was right over the engine-room,
he climbed out under the "guard," and looked keenly along the port
quarter. Aha! There, just as he had expected, was a port-hole standing
wide open, and letting in water at every plunge of the vessel.
"Well done, my boy! that's _twice_ you've got us all out of a scrape,"
said Mr. Hawkins, to whom Frank hastily reported what he had seen. "How
did you come to think of that port-hole?"
"I'd noticed it when I was shovelling down there, sir, and I thought
that must be it."
"Good! I like to see a youngster keep his wits about him. Send up the
carpenter to fix it, will you? I won't forget to tell Captain Gray what
you've done, depend upon it."
This, of itself, would have been a sufficient "event" for the first day
out from Malta; but another was still to come. The next morning Frank
noticed two new faces among the firemen, and asked Herrick who they
were.
"Stowaways, lad," said the old tar. "We found 'em hid away among the
cargo last night, and now we're making 'em work their passage. There was
three on 'em altogether, but them two Britishers are all that's any
good. The third was a Maltee lubber, who'd never done nothin' but wait
at table, and sich; so we jist sent him aft to sarve the officers."
That evening there was a sudden cry of "Fire!" and Frank, to whom the
mere thought of a fire at sea had always been a perfect nightmare, was
amazed to see how coolly the men got out their hose-pipes and took their
appointed stations, without the slightest flurry or confusion. In _three
minutes_ all was ready; but happily it proved to be a false alarm.
* * * * *
Ha! what is this long gray band along the southern sky, with one tall
white line standing up from it like a mast, and two black bars
stretching from its edge far into the bright blue waters? Can it be the
coast of Egypt already? It is nothing else. The white streak is Port
Said Light-house; the black bars are the walls of its breakwater,
running their huge piled-up blocks of "concrete" nearly two miles out to
sea.
Frank was greatly amused with the quaint little toy town of 5000
inhabitants, perched between the desert and the sea, where everybody
shut up their stores and went to sleep in the middle of the day; where,
thanks to the deep soft sand, carriages and horsemen went by as
noiselessly as shadows; and where every gust of wind raised a dust-storm
that hid people, houses, and everything else. Here, for the first time,
he saw a _punka_, or monster fan, worked by a rope, and hung from the
ceiling of a room. He was shown over the light-house by a trim little
Arab boy and girl, who, to his great surprise, turned out to be man and
wife; and altogether he had plenty of new impressions to think over when
he at last found himself fairly afloat upon the Suez Canal.[1]
A narrow ribbon of light green water between two interminable
sand-banks, growing gradually higher as they advanced southward; a huge
"dredger" every here and there, lying like a castle upon the water, with
a clamorous garrison of blue-shirted men and red-capped boys; an
occasional tug-boat, disdainfully greeted by Herrick as "Puffing Billy";
a distant caravan, with its endless file of camels and horses and men,
melting away in curve after curve, like some mighty serpent, far back
into the quivering haze that hovered over the hot brassy desert--such
were the main features of the famous passage, begun by Pharaoh-Necho,
and finished by Lesseps. The sun was sinking as they cast anchor for the
night before Ismailia, and saw the mouth of the Sweetwater Canal, and
the docks and houses of the brand-new town which the late sovereign of
Egypt built and named after himself, fading into the fast-falling
darkness.
Starting again next morning, they passed Suez about noon (fortunately
without having to halt at one of the ugliest and dirtiest towns in the
world), and headed down the Red Sea. Frank took a good look, in passing,
at the bold headland of Ras Attakah, which is said by the best
authorities to mark the scene of the Israelite passage, and where,
according to a grim Arab legend, the shrieks of Pharaoh's drowning host
may still be heard at times mingling with the roar of the storm. Farther
on, a break in the sea-board hills gave him one glimpse of the huge
square dark gray mass of Sinai,[2] far away to the east; and then they
were in the open sea once more.
Keeping well out to sea, they escaped the net-work of coral reefs which
beset the Arabian coast for forty-five miles together; but they could
not escape the heat, which overpowered not a few even of the old hands.
Again and again strong men were carried fainting from the engine-room,
to be tended by a surgeon almost as sick as themselves. The stiff breeze
that was blowing, instead of refreshing them, seemed to bring with it
the heat of all the African deserts at once, and a passing steamer
signaled that she had lost _sixteen_ men by it in two days.
"See that lubber of a mountain spoutin' fire, as if 'twarn't hot enough
already!" growled Herrick, pointing to the volcanic islet of Jebel Teer.
"That other island yonder's where the Arabs think their spirits go when
they die; but I guess if _I_ was a spirit, I'd like to have a cooler
berth."
But once through the Straits of Bab-el-Mandeb (Gate of Tears) into the
Indian Ocean, Frank's ideas of a tropical voyage were fully realized.
Bright skies, smooth seas, a steady breeze abeam keeping all cool,
porpoises frolicking around the ship by hundreds, gay-plumaged birds
alighting in the rigging, and a dance on deck every night to the music
of fiddle and concertina, with a roaring accompaniment of sea-chorus
that might have pleased Captain Marryat himself. Frank's throat was sore
for a whole day after his patriotic efforts to "give full mouth" to one
of these, which began thus:
"May our good ship _Arizona_ have fair winds to fill her sails!
She can race the King of Sharks, not to say the Prince of Whales;
And she'll laugh at Arab roaches and at crawling British snails,
As she goes sailing on."
The guns were got ready as they ran through the pirate-haunted Straits
of Malacca; and though no pirate ventured to attack them, they had to
face an enemy quite as dangerous that very afternoon. Frank, who had
been looking at the blue Sumatra hills, with here and there a curl of
smoke above the trees to show where the sandalwood gatherers were at
work, was suddenly startled by the cry of, "A water-spout!"
There it was, sure enough, the long dark pillar, topped by a mass of
black cloud, moving swiftly over the sea. Two native fishing-boats were
flying before it, one of which was speedily drawn into the swirling foam
at the base of the column. The other, more fortunate, got under the lee
of the steamer.
"Give him a shot, Herrick," shouted the Captain, and the old
quartermaster obeyed. The first shell missed, though so narrowly that
the spout was seen to quiver; but the second burst right upon the
thinnest part of the column, which broke and fell, with a noise that
might have been heard for miles. For a moment the whole air was dark as
night with spray and smoke; then a torrent of rain burst upon them, and
when it cleared away, not a trace of their terrible enemy was to be
seen.
[Illustration: SINGAPORE PILOT-BOAT.]
The morning after her water-spout adventure the _Arizona_ sighted the
light-ship marking the approach to Singapore; and after an exciting race
with an English screw-steamer, ran safely over the bar into the harbor.
This was certainly rather hard upon the native pilot-boat, which had put
out to her in the hope of a job; and the six black, half-clothed
scarecrows who pulled it vented their feelings in a prolonged howl and a
clatter of their diamond-shaped oar blades, to which Jack Dewey replied
by asking, with an air of deep interest, how much they would take to
"come on board and new pitch the boats with the tar off their elegant
black hides."
[TO BE CONTINUED.]
FOOTNOTES:
[1] Of the eighty-six miles of the canal, nearly thirty lie through the
shallow lakes of Menzaleh, Timsah, and "Bitter Water," the channel being
marked by posts or mounds. Its depth is twenty-six and a quarter feet,
its mean breadth about seventy, and in the "sidings" nearly one hundred.
[2] Called by the Arabs "Jebel Mousa" (Mountain of Moses).
STORIES FROM THE MINES.
Many stories are told of the manner in which the first discoveries of
gold in California were turned to account by ingenious speculators, and
among them are the following: In one district the gold-dust was mixed
with large quantities of fine black sand, which the miners--most of whom
were raw hands--blew off from the gold in their anxiety to arrive at the
ore itself. A keen old man turned their impatience to account by
shamming lameness, and pretending that in his weakly state he was not
equal to the toil of mining, and was thus compelled to resort to the
poor and profitless branch of gathering the black sand, which he sold as
a substitute for emery. He used to go about of an evening with a large
bag and a tin tray, requesting the miners to blow their black sand upon
it, and returning with it to his hut. By the aid of quick-silver he was
able to extract the gold, double in quantity to that which was obtained
by the hardest-working miner at the washings.
Tricks of every kind were played upon new-comers in search of the golden
treasures. One story is told of some American associates who had been
working at an unprofitable spot, putting up a notice that their
"valuable site" was for sale, as they were going elsewhere. A few
Germans who had just arrived offered themselves as purchasers. The price
asked was exorbitant, as the proprietors stated that the "diggings"
returned a large amount of gold, and the following day was appointed for
the Germans to come and see what could be produced in the course of a
few hours' working. The sellers went during the night and secreted the
gold-dust in the banks, so that it would come to light, as a natural
deposit, when the earth was turned up. The following morning the poor
Germans were so delighted with the apparent richness of the place that
they gave a large sum of money and two valuable gold watches for the
property. The Germans were laughed at; but they went to work, and
actually succeeded in raising a large amount of gold beneath the spot
where the others had left off. The Americans were thus outwitted in
turn, and endeavored to get repossession of the place by force; but
another company of Germans arriving, they were obliged to decamp.
An old miner relates this story: "While working on Rock Creek, the
weather being very hot, we always had near us a can of water, and close
to it we put a tea-cup to hold the particles of gold as we collected
them. One morning as we were at work a thirsty digger came by, who asked
permission to take a draught of water, which being granted, he filled up
the cup, and quaffed off the costly drink, without either drinking our
healths or leaving the least sediment at the bottom. I suspected at
first that some trick had been played upon us, and he had secreted the
gold; but from the evident distress of the man, and the earnest manner
in which he promised to repay us when he got work, I firmly believe that
he had swallowed the gold, not having noticed it in the cup."
Scarcely twenty-three years have elapsed since the gold yield in
California became an undoubted fact, and within that period many
millions of dollars' worth of gold-dust has been added to the wealth of
the world. But even these results have been eclipsed by the wonderful
discoveries of gold in Australia. So extensively are the gold deposits
distributed throughout that great country, that Melbourne, the capital,
has been said to be paved with the rich metal, the broken quartz rocks
which have been used to make the streets being found to contain gold.
A BOAT-RACE AT YARROW.
BY H. L. TALBOT.
Yarrow is the place where I am at school while my father and mother are
in Europe. My father was ordered to the Mediterranean: that's an awful
word to spell. My chum, Sandy, says, "Remember from the Latin
_Medi-terra_," but that's harder than the spelling. I am glad every day
that I was sent here, because I don't believe there is another school in
the world where you can have such fun. Mr. May is our teacher; and
though he is pretty strict always, and sometimes, if a fellow tries to
cheat or play sick, he's awful hard on him, yet when everybody is trying
to do his best, Mr. May is the quickest to find it out, and it makes him
mighty good-natured. Perhaps I should not think Yarrow such a good place
to send a boy if it wasn't for the river that is within a stone's-throw
from Mr. May's barn. We skate there in winter, and in summer row, swim,
and drive logs. Last year we had nothing to row in but the old _Pumpkin
Seed_, broad as she is long, and rows like a ship's yawl. Now she might
fill and go to the bottom, for all we cared, for Nate Niles and I have
had birthdays, and my uncle Tom sent us each the prettiest double shell,
cedar decks, outriggers, spoon oars, and all. I tell you, they were
beauties! My uncle knows what's what in a boat, as he used to row, and
beat, too, when he was in college. He is always sending me things,
because I'm his favorite relation, and my middle name is Thomas. Lately
he gives things to Nate, because he is going to marry his sister. Before
Nate got his boat, he said he'd a million times rather have her an old
maid than have such a chap for a brother. Now, though, he's all right,
he likes his boat so much.
Mr. May made a bargain that we were to study hard for a month, and he
would give us boards and timber enough to build a boat-house. We
couldn't leave such valuable boats as the _Arrow_ and the _Edith_
out-of-doors, and Nate said the cows would _hook 'em_ if we left them in
the barn. Mick Murphy (he's Mr. May's man) did most of the carpentering,
but we boys helped. Sam Fish got so he could shingle as well as Mick,
and keep the nails in his mouth. I pounded my thumb the first day I
tried, and the biggest blood-blister I ever saw grew; so I had to give
up hammering. Sam says if he can't be a Congressman, he means to be a
first-rate shingler, and get the job of shingling all the spires in the
country. I sha'n't be that, anyway. If I can't get on better with my
arithmetic, and get to be an Admiral, I shall keep a stable, and let my
father ride my horses--regular circus horses, and calico-spotted
ones--very cheap. Sandy King (he's my chum) helped me that month over my
lessons, so I got on swimmingly. Sandy can read Latin as quick as
lightning, and knows _horse_ in eight languages, not counting pigeon
English. He's a splendid fellow, besides, and I shall never forget how
good he was to me when I came to Yarrow, and was the only Democrat,
except Mick and his family.
I painted the boat-house, because I had hurt my eyes when Sam's gun
burst when I went after a partridge. It turned out to be one of Stuffy
Wilson's hens, who lives just across the river, and I had to pay a
dollar and a half, and she only weighed four pounds. I thought I was
dead, sure, when I dropped the gun, and Mick's boy said he thought so
too. I only burned off my eye-winkers, and got some powder in my cheek.
Mr. May was awfully severe, and said I broke one of the rules of the
school. I guess he always says that when a fellow almost kills himself.
He did when Nate lassoed the pig, and she hit him. I only knew the dog
and smoking rules. You can't keep one, because, Mr. May says, it eats
what would keep a poor human being. I think, though, if I could find a
dog that would eat only fat, I could keep him, because I always leave
that, and no human being could live on that. Bridget hopes there isn't
any such dog to be found, because she is so stingy over her old soap
stuff.
When the house was done, the red roof just showing above the alders, and
looking so pretty just at the bend in the river, we didn't feel a mite
sorry for all the hard work we had put into it; though I do wish I
hadn't let Sam try and get the paint off my trousers, for he took cloth
and all. I have been mighty unlucky lately with my clothes. I scalded my
best shoes, and Polly Burr didn't notice, and wore my best jacket common
for two days, and got gravy on it. He's such a funny fellow! He used to
use any boy's tooth-brush. We put salt on ours, and cured him of that,
though we couldn't use ours for ever so long. My uncle wrote me a solemn
letter a little while ago, and said, "Robert Ames, you must never forget
you are a poor man's son." That was because I sawed my new gray
trousers. I felt solemn for a long while, and now I'm afraid he will
write another.
Nate named his boat the _Arrow_, because he said it went so well with
Yarrow. He chose Sam Fish for his stroke, as he is the strongest fellow
in the school. I named mine _Edith_, after my mother, and took Sandy for
bow oar. Sandy said he wasn't half so strong as Polly, and wanted to
give up; but I wanted just no fellow but Sandy. And then Polly has been
scared of boats, and rather a land-lubber, ever since his aunt got blown
up on a steamer. Besides, he cares more about his menagerie, and was
busy training his ant-eater.
We decided to have a race the 18th of June, as it was Mr. May's
birthday. Sam wanted a silver cup for a prize, but we couldn't get money
enough. Polly was mighty generous, and gave fifty cents for the prize.
We appreciated Polly's generosity, for we knew he didn't care a pin for
boating, and the express on his ant-eater cost him ninety cents. The
three Freshmen, Fritz Davis, Phil Hayes, and Billy Butler, each gave
twenty-five cents toward the prize, Sam a dollar, Nate all he had,
forty-three cents, Sandy fifty, and I eighty-three. I hope it wasn't too
much for a poor man's son. The boys made me captain and Polly treasurer
of the Yarrow Boat Club.
Sandy and I rowed every minute we could get. Every time we got into the
boat we liked her better and better: she rowed so easily, and sat like a
duck in the water. Sandy got so he didn't dip too deep nor jerk, as he
did first. We found out that Sam and Nate were training. They ate rare
beef and ran two miles a day. Sandy wanted to train too, but I told him
I couldn't, as I only liked the outside of beef, and my only shoes hurt
my feet.
"Let them try one way, and we another; the 18th will prove which is
best." Sandy and I were getting ready to anchor the _Pumpkin Seed_ up
the river for the turning stake on the day of the race, when Polly and
his ant-eater came down the hill.
"Any more money, Polly?"
"Yes; great luck. Mick and Bridget each gave ten, and Mick's boy gave
twenty-five for a chance to sell corn balls."
"Didn't you see the Sunday-school?"
"I forgot all about it until after they had put their money into the
contribution box; but they all said they were coming, sure pop."
We anchored the _Pumpkin Seed_ up the river just a quarter of a mile
from the boat-house; that made the distance to be pulled half a mile.
Sam sent to Boston for shirts and crimson handkerchiefs for his crew.
They both looked splendidly, but Sam's broad back and long stroke rather
scared us. Mrs. May fixed us shirts, but they wrinkled round the neck.
Then we had two yellow handkerchiefs that Mr. May used to use. The day
before the race the small boys made a _grand stand_ at the Oxbow for the
spectators. It looked strong, but Mr. May said it wasn't, so Mick had to
do it over.
Polly told me the night before that he had kept the time of the two
boats for a week, and ours had been the best every time. That would have
been grand, if I only could have trusted Polly's watch. But it was a bad
one, and he used to set it three times a day.
I walked to the village, and brought back the blue and yellow flag, with
the letters Y. B. C. on it, which was to be the prize. The grand stand
was to be saved for adults and girls, and Mick was to be in the _Pumpkin
Seed_ at the turn. He knows a good deal about races, as his brother owns
a trotter. Mr. May was to keep the time, as he had some kind of a
thermometer watch. Such a dinner as Mrs. May gave us! I had Sam's and
Nate's pieces of lemon pie, as they couldn't eat anything but meat. Mr.
May looked over his spectacles, and asked if I was the boy who was to
row a race that afternoon.
At one o'clock boys began coming, and took seats on the stand. Mick had
to tell them about the girls and adults. Those mean Wilson boys had
built a stand in the night, and let the crowd in for five cents! So both
banks were full. They are the meanest family in America. They promised
to keep every one out of their field. We were mad enough, but we
couldn't do anything then.
Sam and Nate were in the _Arrow_ when we got to the river, and they
cheered us as we got into our boat, and Polly shoved off our bow. I gave
the stroke, and we pulled into the middle of the river, where the prize
flag was waving, and looking pretty enough to pull a dozen races for.
"Lay on your oars, and wait the signal." It seemed an hour before Mr.
May said, "One, two, three--go!" and Sandy and I began our work, not
rowing as we meant to later. The _Arrow_ was to hug the Wilsons' shore,
and we our bank. I heard a cheer for the _Arrow_, and knew she was
ahead. It was a strong temptation to look round and see how far ahead
she was, and by a spurt bring our boat up with her if possible. I
didn't, though, and just rowed away as well as I could, and tried to
keep cool.
The boys on the bank kept shouting, "Go it, _Arrow_!" "You're ahead!"
"Brace up, _Edith_!" We had passed the alders, and were nearing Mick and
the turn. We held our port oars, and rounded neatly, and heard Mick say,
"Well done, Bob!" Then I told Sandy to "give it to her," and by the
spring in the boat I knew that Sandy had been saving his strength for
the homestretch. We were doing our best. If we could not get ahead at
that rate, the race was lost. But we weren't going to be badly beaten.
"The _Edith's_ ahead!" "Good for you, Bob!" That was Polly's voice near
us on the bank. When I knew we were ahead, I felt all right. We could
row that way long enough, and if Sam and Nate hadn't been saving their
strength, we could win. I could see we held our lead; if anything, we
added to it.
"You're bating, Robert, you're bating." Bridget had promised to stand
near the bars; so we knew we were nearing the boat-house. For saying
that, Bridget should come in free, and I meant to return her ten cents.
"Handsomely, Sandy!" and we both put on a little extra muscle that we
didn't know was left over, and shot by the flag, about three lengths
ahead of the _Arrow_.
"Three cheers for Captain Bob!" "Well done, _Edith_!" "Now, Sandy!" Such
yells as the boys gave! I've never heard anything like 'em since.
The girls waved their handkerchiefs, and Fritz Davis played his
hand-organ. Sam handed the flag to me, and I put Sandy's brown hand on
it, and we waved it, and started cheers for the _Arrow_, as loud as we
could. When we rowed ashore, the boys put Sandy and me on their
shoulders, and rode us up to the house. Polly waved the Yarrow flag, and
Fritz ought to have played the "Conquering Hero," but he made a mistake,
and played the "Cruel War." Mr. May says he has no ear. That isn't the
matter though, for he has two, and big ones, too.
When we were changing our clothes, we four talked it all over. "By
thunder! Bob, I thought we had lost when you ate those corn balls, after
all that pie." I never saw Sandy so excited. He's a minister's son, and
pretty calm.
"Stuff! Bob has it in him, and nothing he eats makes any odds." Sam
thinks, because my father is a sailor, I can row. But father never rows
a stroke.
"Well, Sam, the next one, don't let us go into training. I've been
hungry ever since we began." Poor Nate had had a hard time of it,
because he and I have the biggest appetites at school, and he didn't
like rare beef, so he ate mighty little. He says he is always hungry,
excepting Thanksgiving afternoons.
"When shall we try again, boys?"
"Fourth of July; and I'll get my father to give a prize," and Sam hit on
the thing we all wanted--to try it again.
Mr. May invited all the boys and girls on our side of the river to stay
and have lemonade and cake. Sam bought all the corn balls Pat had left,
to celebrate the opening race and Mr. May's birthday. That's the way Mr.
May served the sneaking Wilsons and their five-cent crowd. But Sam heard
they said the cake was molasses gingerbread and the lemonade bitter, and
we are going to make the mean sneaks take back every word the next time
they bring the milk.
Mick said it was as well conducted a race as he ever saw; and Mr. May
said his birthday never had been so honored before; and Sandy and I want
to row just such another the coming Fourth of July.
THE LAST BATTLE OF THE REVOLUTION.
BY BENSON J. LOSSING.
Dr. Alexander Anderson, the father of wood-engraving in this country,
died in Jersey City, in 1870, a few weeks before his ninety-fifth
birthday. He was born in New York two days after the skirmish at
Lexington, and had vivid recollections of some of the closing incidents
of the Revolution in that city. From his lips the writer heard many
narratives of those stirring scenes. One of them was an account of the
last battle of the Revolution, of which young Anderson, then a boy
between eight and nine years of age, was an eye-witness.
Anderson's parents lived near the foot of Murray Street, not far from
the Hudson River. There were very few houses between them and Broadway.
Opposite Anderson's dwelling was a boarding-house kept by a man named
Day. His wife was a comely, strongly built woman, about forty years of
age, and possessed a brave heart. She was an ardent Whig, and having
courage equal to her convictions, she never concealed her sentiments.
On the morning of the day (November 25, 1783) when the British troops
were to evacuate the city of New York, and leave America independent,
Mrs. Day unfurled her country's flag over her dwelling. The British
claimed the right to hold possession of the city until noon on that day.
Cunningham, the notorious British Provost-Marshal, was informed of this
impudent display of the "rebel banner" in the presence of British
troops, and sent a sergeant to order it to be taken down. Mrs. Day
refused compliance.
At about nine o'clock in the morning, while young Anderson was sitting
on the porch of his father's house, and Mrs. Day was quietly sweeping in
front of her own, he saw a burly, red-faced British officer, in full
uniform, with a powdered wig, walking rapidly down the street. He halted
before Mrs. Day, and roughly inquired,
"Who hoisted that rebel flag?"
"I raised that flag," coolly answered Mrs. Day, looking the angry
officer full in the face.
"Pull it down!" roared the Briton.
"I shall not do it," firmly answered Mrs. Day.
"You don't know who I am," angrily growled the officer.
"Yes, I do," said the courageous woman.
[Illustration: "CUNNINGHAM SEIZED THE HALYARDS."]
Cunningham (for it was he) seized the halyards, and attempted to pull
down the flag, when Mrs. Day flew at him with her broom, and beat him so
severely over the head that she knocked off his hat, and made the powder
fly from his wig. "I saw it shine like a dim nimbus around his head in
the morning sun," said Anderson.
Cunningham was an Irishman, detested by everybody for his cruelty to
American prisoners in his charge. Mrs. Day had often seen him. He
stormed, and swore, and tugged in vain at the halyards, for they had
become entangled; and Mrs. Day applied her broomstick so vigorously that
the blustering Provost-Marshal was finally compelled to beat a retreat,
leaving the American flag floating in triumph in the crisp November air
over the well-defended Day castle.
This was the last battle between the British and Americans in the old
war for independence.
MARABOUS AND HYENAS.
The ugliest storks in the world are found in Southern Asia and Central
Africa. Their flesh-colored heads are only partially covered with stiff,
wiry feathers, and hanging on the breast they bear a disgusting pouch,
which answers the purpose of a crop. One of the largest of these storks
is the marabou. It stalks about the great sandy plains of Central Africa
with a composure and lordly grandeur, as if it were the most beautiful
bird in the world. Its body feathers are of a dull metallic green color,
and its wings and tail are dingy black. Looking at the awkward creature,
no one would suspect that under its ungainly wings it carried the most
exquisite and fairy-like little plumes, so airy that it takes basketfuls
of them to weigh an ounce. They are pure white, and so much desired for
trimming that the bird is vigorously hunted by the natives, who sell
these dainty feathers to traders for a very large price.
Hunting the marabou is attended with great difficulty, as the bird
possesses wonderful cunning, and often contrives to outwit the most
skillful hunter. With laughable dignity it measures the ground between
itself and its pursuer, and takes very good care not to exhaust itself
by too rapid flight. If the hunter moves slowly, the bird at once adopts
an equally easy pace, but if the hunter quickens his steps, the bird is
off like an arrow. It is very difficult to get within gun-range of this
calculating creature, but the natives adopt a novel means of capturing
it, which the bird, with all its astuteness, is unable to comprehend,
and falls an easy victim. A tempting morsel of meat is tied to the end
of a long stout cord, which the skillful hunter flings to a great
distance, as he would a lasso, the bait falling as near the fleeing bird
as he can aim it. He then conceals himself hastily behind a bush, or
crouches low on the sand. The marabou, which always keeps its eye on the
hunter, seeing him vanish, quietly stops and devours the bait, when it
is easily secured by the hunter, who runs toward it, coiling the rope as
he goes.
The marabou feeds on carrion, like the vulture. Its throat is very
large, and it will greedily eat everything that comes in its way. In the
swamps and plains around Khartoom, on the Nile, are immense flocks of
marabous, and they are so daring as to come to the slaughter-houses on
the outskirts of the city in search of food, and whole ox ears, and
shin-bones with hoof attached, have been found in the crop of specimens
which have been killed.
This bird is a very skillful fisher. It haunts the low marshy islands in
the rivers and lakes of Central Africa, with elephants, monkeys,
flamingoes, and many varieties of birds for its companions, and gains
its principal food from the water. It often goes in companies of ten or
twelve to fish. Wading in the water, the birds form a circle which they
gradually draw together, gathering the frightened fish in the centre as
with a net, when with their long bills and quick movement they speedily
provide themselves with a hearty meal.
Although marabou mammas have been seen proudly parading round with a
brood of diminutive downy young ones, so shy and retiring is this bird
in its domestic habits that naturalists have been unable to determine
when and how it builds its nest. The natives assert that it nests in
high trees, but their statement is not confirmed.
In captivity the marabou is lord of the inclosure, and in zoological
gardens where specimens have been confined no other birds, nor even
small beasts, dare approach the feeding trough until the hunger of this
impudent bird is satisfied, and it has retired to the warmest corner for
a nap. The immense strength of its bill makes it a formidable enemy, and
when fighting for food it will often overcome the largest vultures, and
wage successful battle with beasts of prey.
[Illustration: MARABOU FIGHTING WITH HYENAS.]
The hyena inhabits the same portions of Asia and Africa as the marabou,
and travellers give accounts of terrible contests between these two
singular members of the animal kingdom. The hyena is called the vulture
among beasts, as it prefers carrion for its food, and as long as it can
find dead animals to devour, it leaves the flocks and herds in peace.
Cowardly by nature, it rarely attacks man or beast unless driven to
desperation by hunger.
The striped hyena inhabits the northern latitudes of Africa, Persia, and
Syria, while the spotted species, which is easily tamed, and is
sometimes called hyena-dog, is found in large numbers in the vast plains
of South Africa.
The hyena is a strange-looking beast. It has a big head and a heavy
shaggy mane. The hind part of its body is much lower than its shoulders,
and its hind-legs are short. This odd formation gives it an awkward
shambling manner of walking, which is both ludicrous and hideous.
This creature rarely shows itself by day, but when the shadows of night
fall on the plains and forests, it comes out from its home among the
rocks and caverns in search of food. African travellers are much annoyed
by it. When the camp is silent, and all are sleeping, the hyena comes
prowling round, uttering hoarse human cries; and should it fail to find
sufficient camp refuse to satisfy its hunger, some poor donkey is sure
to be torn in pieces by its terribly strong jaws.
Few animals have been the subject of so much superstition. In ancient
times it was believed that a dog went mad if a hyena turned its evil-eye
upon it, and the beast was believed by many to be a wicked sorcerer who
went about in human form by day, and at night assumed the shape of a
hyena. The poor and ignorant peasantry of Arabia, even at the present
day, believe in the evil-eye of this beast, and are afraid to shoot it
lest they should incur the wrath of the wicked spirit which they imagine
walks the earth in this ugly form.
The poor hyena, however, far from being an evil spirit, is a real
blessing to the regions it inhabits, as it is a natural scavenger,
provided by the kind wisdom of nature to clear the ground of much
loathsome and decaying matter, thereby rendering the air sweeter and
purer and more healthful.
CHATTER-BOX AND CHATTER-BAG.
BY A. P. C.
Doubtless you all know what a _chatter-box_ is, but are any of you
acquainted with a _chatter-bag_? I do not think the word is in the
dictionary, and yet the article exists. Perhaps you would like to hear
how it came to be invented.
Once upon a time a young lady, whom we will call Miss Matilda, entered
upon her duties as teacher in a large school. There were about fifty
girls in her department, and she had to be somewhat of a disciplinarian
to keep them all in order. But things, on the whole, went quietly, until
one morning a pleasant-faced old lady appeared, and introduced as a new
pupil her granddaughter Anna Maria Spilkins.
Anna Maria S. was eleven years of age. She was a graceful little person,
with large round blue eyes, rosy cheeks, and a quantity of short, curly,
golden hair. Her face was very bright; she had the appearance of being
uncommonly clever. But she was eminently a _chatter-box_.
This fact soon made itself felt. Miss Matilda had scarcely placed her at
a desk, and bowed Madam Grandma out of the school-room, when the
chattering commenced. Anna Maria leaned over and whispered something to
the girl on her right hand, then something to the one on the left, then
a word to the one in front of her, then a word to the one behind her.
Miss Matilda looked at her gently, then gently reprovingly, then
reprovingly, then sternly, and all the glances were totally lost on Anna
Maria. Miss Matilda benevolently thought, Perhaps this child has never
been to school before.
"Anna Maria," she said, in a serious tone.
"What, ma'am?" said Anna Maria, looking up with perfect innocence in her
clear blue eyes.
"Did you ever attend school before?"
"Oh dear yes! Why, I went when I was only three years old. First I went
to Mrs. McToole's, and then I went to Miss Smith's, and then I went to
Mr. Brown's, and then--"
"There, that will do," exclaimed Miss Matilda. "You can tell me the rest
some other time. What I wish to know now is, were you allowed to talk as
much as you pleased in those schools?"
"Well, I don't know as I was," replied Anna Maria, looking down, and
blushing a little.
"The rule here," continued Miss Matilda, "is _silence_. I hope, my dear,
that you will never speak except when it is absolutely necessary."
"Yes, ma'am," said Anna Maria, in a subdued tone, after which she closed
her lips very tightly.
Miss Matilda called up the first class in geography, and proceeded to
hear the lesson. In about five minutes her keen ear became conscious of
a faint whispering sound. She glanced quickly in the direction of Anna
Maria: evidently it was her little tongue that was wagging. But it was
wagging very gently, and its waggery was addressed to one of the best
girls in school. Miss Matilda thought, Perhaps she is asking some
necessary questions: I will not be severe with her the first day. So she
said nothing. But in five minutes more the whisper had risen to quite a
buzz, and Miss Matilda detected distinctly the words, "White, with three
flounces, and a new pink sash."
"Anna Maria!" she exclaimed.
"What, ma'am?"
"Did I not tell you that you were not to speak unless it was absolutely
necessary?"
"Oh dear yes! I beg your pardon, teacher. I forgot all about it."
"Well, my dear, I trust you will be perfectly quiet now."
"Yes, ma'am," said Anna Maria, very meekly. She closed her lips tightly
again, and was quiet--for about five minutes.
Miss Matilda thought, To-morrow, when she has her lessons to recite, it
will be different.
But Miss Matilda was mistaken; to-morrow, when she had lessons to
recite, it was exactly the same.
Chatter, chatter, chatter, Anna Maria kept it up day after day, from one
end of the week to the other. The industrious girls were seriously
annoyed by it. To the idle pupils it was a new excuse for idleness; to
the silly ones, a new excuse for giggling. And punishment seemed to make
no impression on Anna Maria. Again and again she was ordered to stand up
in the corner. She went meekly and stood there, and in two minutes was
chattering with the girl who sat nearest to her. She was told to stay in
after school a quarter of an hour; half an hour; an hour; an hour and a
half. She never put her head down on the desk and cried, as some of the
girls did when they were kept in; she staid her time out quite
cheerfully, and chattered with all her fellow-culprits. Miss Matilda
thought, This child is simply distracting.
Then she made a rule that Anna Maria was not to speak to any person in
the school excepting her teacher. And what was the result? At all hours
of the day, in the midst of the most important business, Miss Matilda
would be interrupted with talk similar to the following:
"Oh, teacher, may I speak to you one minute?"
"Certainly. What is it?"
"I just want to tell you about my cousin Susie's new doll. You ought to
see it; it is perfectly splendid!--wax face and hands and feet, and real
hair, and--"
"Anna Maria, have I not told you repeatedly that you were not to speak
about anything except what was absolutely necessary? Now do you think
that such conversation is necessary?"
Anna Maria hung her head a little, and then she said, in a sort of
apologetic way, "Well, teacher, it may not seem so, but really it is
necessary _for me_. You see, I get thinking about something, and I can't
stop thinking about it until I have told it to somebody else."
"Well, and when you have relieved your mind in this manner, at the
expense of peace and quiet to the whole school, what then?"
"Oh, then I think about something else."
"Yes, and then you wish to chatter about that."
"But really, teacher, I can't help it. I always was so. Grandma says I
talk more than all the rest of the family put together. In fact, the
family have to be quiet because I talk so much. I always did, you know.
It is one of those things that can't be altered."
"Ah," said Miss Matilda, a little dryly, "I was not aware of that. Thank
you for the information. I am sorry you did not tell me before."
One bright December afternoon, when school was about to be dismissed,
Miss Matilda arose and said:
"Girls, I have decided that this class is to receive a Christmas
present--something which will be useful and agreeable to you all. As
this article (which I will not at present name) requires some very neat
sewing, I have further decided that Miss Anna Maria Spilkins, whom I
heard mentioned as an excellent needle-woman, shall have the honor of
making it."
The girls applauded, and Anna Maria looked very proud.
"Anna Maria," continued Miss Matilda, "do you think your grandmother has
a nice piece of calico at home, about a yard and a half long, which she
could let us have?"
"Oh dear yes," replied Anna Maria. "Why, she has lots. Last winter she
made a patchwork quilt, and she went down to New York and bought
everything new for it. Aunt Jemima thought she could have used some
things that were in the house, but she thought she couldn't--and you
never saw the like! One yard of this, and two yards of that, and three
yards of the other--enough to make half a dozen quilts--and every bit of
it perfectly lovely. Oh, there is one piece that is just splendid! It
is pink, with flowers of every color you can think of all over it. It
is so bright you can hardly look at it."
"That would be the very thing. Do you think she will let us have it?"
"Oh, I guess so. I'll _talk_ her into it; you depend on me for that."
"Very well. And to-morrow you will bring with you the calico, a yard and
a half of alpaca braid to match, and your sewing materials."
"Yes, ma'am."
"Also, a large brass-headed nail and a hammer."
"Why, what is that for?"
"You will see when the time comes. And you will be excused from your
lessons in the last hour on Thursday and Friday, so that you can do this
piece of sewing in school."
"Thank you, ma'am."
Anna Maria was delighted. She felt herself a very important personage:
besides, she had something new about which to chatter. Some of the other
girls, however, were quite sulky over the affair. "I don't see why one
of us couldn't do it," said one. "Miss Matilda is dreadfully partial,"
said another. "Yes, she lets Anna Maria Spilkins do anything she likes,"
said a third. But all were equally curious about it. "I do wonder what
it can be," was heard on all sides.
The next morning Anna Maria arrived, bundle in hand. With great pride
she spread out its contents. The girls were fairly dazzled with the
beauty of the pink calico. In the afternoon, at the beginning of the
last school hour, Miss Matilda said, "Anna Maria, have you brought the
things we spoke of yesterday?"
"Yes, ma'am," said Anna Maria, stepping up to the desk.
Miss Matilda examined them with satisfaction. "Now, Anna Maria, take
that brass-headed nail in your left hand, and the hammer in your right."
"Yes, ma'am."
"Do you notice that bar of wood along the wall, about five feet from the
floor?"
"Yes, ma'am."
"Now measure carefully, and find the spot exactly over the middle of
your desk; then drive the nail in."
Anna Maria obeyed. The hammering resounded strangely through the quiet
school-room. When this piece of work was over, Miss Matilda folded down
the pink calico, and marked out two long seams to be run and felled.
Anna Maria took the sewing to her seat, and stitched away complacently,
while the other girls fretted and growled over "that horrid grammar
lesson." When school was over, she brought the work to Miss Matilda, who
put it away carefully in her desk.
"Ah, teacher, do tell us what it is!" some of the girls exclaimed.
"I think you will see to-morrow," Miss Matilda answered, quietly.
The next afternoon Anna Maria resumed her work.
"I do believe it is going to be a bag," whispered one of the girls, who
was watching her.
"Why, yes, so it is," said another. "But what can it be for?"
"Do you think Miss Matilda could mean to have a Christmas grab-bag for
us?" asked a third.
"I don't know why she should," said a fourth; "I don't see that we have
been _so awfully good_ as all that."
But a bag undoubtedly it was. Half an hour before school was over, Anna
Maria had finished the string-case, and run the piece of pink alpaca
braid through it. The work was done. She walked to the desk
triumphantly, and presented it to her teacher. Miss Matilda examined it,
commended the sewing, and then handed it back to her.
"And now, Anna Maria," she asked, "do you know what this bag is for?"
"No, ma'am."
"Have you no idea?"
"No, ma'am."
"_It is to put your head in!_ In future I shall never reprove you for
talking. You may talk as much and as often as you please, but all you
say must go into this bag. When it is quite full of talk, draw the
string tight, so that not one word escapes, and bring it to me. Then I
will empty the chatter out of the window, where it will disturb no one,
and return you the bag, to be refilled whenever you choose."
A wild shout of laughter rang through the school-room. Anna Maria turned
crimson, and dropped the bag. She would have been glad if the floor had
opened and swallowed her. She could make no answer--for once in her life
she was dumb.
"Pick up the bag, Anna Maria," said Miss Matilda, "and hang it on the
nail above your desk."
Very slowly and unwillingly the little girl obeyed. She took her seat,
and then, for the first time since she came to school, put her head down
on her desk and cried. Miss Matilda took no notice; she merely called
the second class in grammar, and resumed the lessons.
When school was over, and all the other girls had gone, Anna Maria
lifted her head, and exclaimed, "Oh, teacher, teacher, I can't stand it!
Do let me take that hateful bag away!"
"No, my dear," said Miss Matilda, gently. "For three months you have
disturbed the entire school with your perpetual chatter, and now for
three months that bag is to hang over your desk. If by the end of that
time you have learned to control your tongue, the bag shall be
removed--not otherwise."
But it was strange to see how the three months changed her. Miss Matilda
never again needed to say one word to her about talking: one glance at
the bag was more efficacious than a dozen scoldings had been formerly.
Moreover, when her grandmother met her teacher, she said, "Oh, Miss
Matilda, how Anna Maria has improved of late! She used to be such a
terrible chatter-box; we sent her to school when she was only three
years old, because we could not endure the noise of her tongue, but now
she is growing so pleasant and sensible that we all enjoy her company."
[Illustration: THE LITTLE PEACE-MAKER.
"Come, now, oove dot to behave oorselves; oo mus' tiss and be friends."]
THE WAYWARD DONKEY.
BY W. H. BEARD.
There was once a little donkey who gave his poor mother no end of
trouble, he was so stubborn, unreasonable, exacting, and dreadfully
saucy. Why, when angry, he didn't hesitate at all to call his mother an
old donkey, right out. One day, when crossed in some particularly absurd
desire, he declared he would run away. Immediately putting his threat
into execution, off he trotted, heedless of his poor fond mother's
entreaties. Away he went, sustained at first by his temper and pride.
But as the day wore on, he became weary, faint, and hungry. The matter
of food and shelter became a question of serious alarm, and how to
obtain them was a problem too great for his little donkey brain to
solve. He now remembered that he had never had to trouble himself with
all this before, all the needs and comforts of life having been provided
for him without thought or care on his part.
The land over which he was travelling was quite poor, and only afforded
a few little stunted thistles, which seemed to consist more of prickers
than anything else, which pierced his tender little nose, and made it
bleed. He saw plenty of oats and other grains, as well as nice
vegetables, growing in fields, but so well guarded by high fences that
he could not hope to get at them. Many times, when hunger and fatigue
had subdued his pride, would he have returned home; but he had wandered
so far that he had not the least idea which way he had come. To add to
his distress, he saw the sun was fast declining. Already he felt the
chills of evening. But there was no use bemoaning his fate, and he must
make the best of it.
At length, too weary to travel farther, he was forced to lie down to
rest, and selected for the purpose an unfenced overgrown piece of ground
of considerable extent. Here, as he lay among the weeds, nothing was
visible of him above their tops but his two ears, which might easily
have been taken for two stakes, or the roots of an upturned stump. As he
lay shivering in the damp grass, he felt anything but comfortable. The
sun went down, the moon arose and shed a cold light over the face of
nature, which made him feel lonely indeed.
Suddenly there appeared above the grass several other pairs of ears,
bobbing about, quite like his own. The sight thrilled him with something
akin to pleasure, for he asked himself, "To whom can such ears belong
but to little donkeys? and if young donkeys are around, they must have
mothers, or a mother, near by, who, no doubt, would be very glad to
adopt such a fine specimen of the race as I." The reader has already
seen that he was a conceited little donkey.
So saying, he arose quickly to his feet; the others stood up also,
though not as he did on their four feet, but on their hind-legs--that is
to say, they stood up on their haunches--and looked at him in blank
amazement; but as he approached them they bounded away so fast that it
was useless to try to overtake them. When he stood still, they also
stopped, and again stood upon their haunches, and peered at him over the
tops of the weeds. Master Donkey did not try again to go to them, but
expostulated with them upon their ill-breeding and unkind behavior,
called them cousins, told them he was tired and hungry, and asked for
food and shelter. This touched their tender little hearts, and they
cautiously drew near, and made the acquaintance of their supposed
cousin.
On a close scrutiny, however, they doubted his claim to relationship,
and flatly told him so. But they good-naturedly said if he was hungry,
it was no more than common humanity to first relieve his wants, and
discuss the question afterward. Even murderous man would do as much as
that, so they brought him carrots and other vegetables in abundance from
a farm garden near by, from which they were accustomed to supply their
own wants.
When his appetite was satisfied, his humility, such as it was, oozed
out, and he became as arrogant as ever, and stoutly claimed that he was
their big cousin, though, he said, he was not particularly anxious to be
acknowledged by such a pack of little dwarfish thieving creatures as
they were, who would steal through the farmer's fence to purloin
vegetables for a cousin whom they impudently refused to recognize.
Their spokesman retorted, and said they claimed a right to a share,
sufficient for their needs, of whatever grew upon the earth. To be sure,
they were obliged to obtain it stealthily at night, as man claimed it
all for himself, and it would be almost certain death to be found by him
within his inclosure. Indeed, many of their unfortunate fellows had
already suffered death for the exercise of this natural right. If,
however, he regarded their act as a crime, he was himself a criminal,
inasmuch as he had accepted the fruits, and profited by the act, knowing
how the food had been obtained. To this the donkey could make no answer;
at least he did not think it prudent to try, as night was still before
him, and the question of shelter still unsolved.
Good-nature was soon restored, and the discussion renewed. The rabbits
could see many points of difference, but two only of resemblance. It
certainly could not be denied that the ears were remarkably like, and
the complexion was very nearly the same; but the hard feet were so
widely different from their own soft paws! And the tail, too, long and
dangling like a cow's--what a tail for a rabbit! Then, again, they had
observed that he _stood_ while eating, whereas a true rabbit always
crouched comfortably near the ground while taking his food. In the
matter of voice, too, they flattered themselves there was a _wide_
difference. However, all this might be changed or improved by judicious
training, except the feet. The hoofs they despaired of. The tail they
proposed to nibble off at a proper length from the body. This operation
the donkey positively refused to submit to, but finally consented to
hold his tail up over his back as much like a rabbit as possible, and,
moreover, would at once set about his lessons to learn their ways, so
that he might the sooner adapt himself to their habits, and become one
of them.
Accordingly, one of the cleverest of their number was charged with his
instruction, and immediately began with the important art of sitting on
the haunches with his tail curled up upon his back. In this, though he
strained every nerve to perform it, he made an ignominious failure. He
could only maintain the position for a moment, and then pitch forward or
fall backward, seeming to rock over on his curved tail, and cutting such
a ridiculous figure that it made all the rabbits laugh. This made him
very angry, and he began to use his heels in a most vigorous and
unrabbitlike manner. All ran for their lives, but not all escaped
unhurt. The "spraggly" forms of two or three of those nearest to him
showed dark against the moon-lit sky before they limped off, and,
joining their fellows, gathered in a little knot at a distance from
their fractious pupil, and discussed his merits with great freedom. They
voted him an ill-natured brute, a stupid dolt--in short, a perfect
donkey. Scarcely had they arrived at this unanimous conclusion,
when--pop! pop! bang! bang!--four loud reports, and four little rabbits
lay in the agonies of death.
The farmer and his son, seeing by the moonlight strange movements in the
field, had stolen upon them, in the unguarded moment of their
excitement, with their double-barrelled guns, and, as the boy expressed
it, bagged four rabbits and a donkey; for poor little donkey stood
paralyzed with fear. He had never looked upon death before, and was an
easy captive. Without troubling himself to inquire who the rightful
owner was, the farmer took him for his own, housed him that night in a
stall by himself, where he passed almost the entire night,
notwithstanding the fatigues of the day, in such reflections as he was
capable of; and though he grew up to be a great donkey, to be sure, the
lessons of that day were never forgotten by him.
[Illustration: THE WAYWARD DONKEY AND HIS FRIENDS.--FROM DRAWINGS BY
W. H. BEARD.]
[Illustration: OUR POST-OFFICE BOX.]
ROCK ISLAND ARSENAL, ILLINOIS.
I thought you would like to know how spring advances in this part
of the country. There are a great many snowy little bloodroots in
the woods on the island already (April 22), the mandrakes are
coming up, and the spring beauties are in bloom. The snakes are
here also, for a friend of mine and I saw a little garter-snake in
the woods the other day. It hissed at us in a vicious little way.
Yesterday I saw some pretty butterflies flitting about, and there
are numerous graceful dragon-flies in the air. Last Sunday, just
after a thunder-storm, I was on the front porch, and I saw about
eighteen worms, most of them of a kind that is called
"hundred-legs," but there were a few of another kind. They were
crawling up on the porch to get out of the wet. The robins,
bluebirds, cat-birds, woodpeckers, blackbirds, and others are
here. This spring some of the gulls from the great lakes were
fishing on the river. In YOUNG PEOPLE No. 24 Arthur L. H. wrote
about his caterpillar that turned into a butterfly, and I thought
he might like to hear about ours. My brother found a caterpillar
that had different-colored cross-bands on it, like a Roman sash.
He brought it home, and we fed it on leaves till it made a
beautiful cocoon of a thin veil-like material of a pale sea-green
color, with a line and a few dots of gold on it near the middle.
We expected from all this that it would be a very remarkable
butterfly; but it was only one of the common large brown
butterflies that we see almost every day in summer.
BESSY F.
* * * * *
WOLVERTON, ENGLAND.
I am seven years old. My grandpa and grandma live in Canada, and
send me YOUNG PEOPLE. We have a donkey and panniers. My baby
brother and sister ride in the panniers, and my other brother and
I take turns in riding on the donkey's back. We call the donkey
Jinny. I went on a visit to Canada when I was two years old. I
would like to go again.
NONIE J.
* * * * *
CANONSBURG, PENNSYLVANIA.
I enjoy reading the letters in the Post-office Box very much. In
No. 24 a little girl asks for some cooking recipes. I will send
her a recipe for a very nice doll's cup-cake. My little sister and
I make it often. We made it once when grandpa came to see us, and
he liked it so much that he had to be helped twice. This is the
recipe: One doll's cup of butter; two of sugar; three of flour;
one of sweet milk; one egg; a few scrapings of nutmeg; one
salt-spoonful of baking powder. When well mixed, put it into a
buttered pan. When it draws away from the side of the pan, it is
done.
BESSIE L. S.
* * * * *
STUYVESANT SQUARE, NEW YORK CITY.
Some other girls and myself have formed a Wiggle Club. We are
going to get some papers printed with the heading, "Stuyvesant
Square Wiggle Club," on which we will all send in our Wiggles, and
we are going to have prizes for the best. The one of our Wiggles
that is published in YOUNG PEOPLE will take the prize. We can not
draw very well yet, but we will try to improve, and to be the
champions. Our names are Bertha, Toonie, Sarah, Nonie, Blanche.
Unfortunately your drawings of Wiggle No. 10 came too late to be
engraved. Your ideas were all excellent. In YOUNG PEOPLE No. 27 we gave
you a new Wiggle, which you can practice upon, and send us what you make
of it. The plan of your club is good, as it will afford you much
amusement, and at the same time give you good exercise in drawing.
* * * * *
DIXON, ILLINOIS.
I like YOUNG PEOPLE very much. I can read the children's letters,
and I thought I would write myself. I have got a great family of
dolls--thirteen in all--and I like to look at the picture, on the
first page of YOUNG PEOPLE No. 7, of the two little girls and the
basket of dolls. My black cat is named Hippopotamus, but I call
him Pot for short. My papa at Christmas-time was dressed up like
Santa Claus, and brought us a bagful of presents. I did not know
it was papa till weeks afterward. I am seven years old.
MARY H.
* * * * *
BROOKLYN, NEW YORK.
I wonder if any of the readers of YOUNG PEOPLE have ever seen a
tarantula. It is a large hairy spider that lives in the tropics,
and its bite is very poisonous. I had one, with its nest. The nest
is made in clay, and is long, like a tube. It is closed by a
trap-door, and is a skillful piece of workmanship.
A. R. J.
* * * * *
BRANDON, WISCONSIN.
My father and brother commenced seeding the 14th of April, as it
had been very warm for several days. The morning of April 16 the
ground was covered with snow, and it continued snowing hard all
day.
FLORENCE.
* * * * *
FORT WAYNE, INDIANA.
The other night I took my round in the chicken coop to see that
all the chickens were in. Three little chicks, four weeks old,
deserted by their mother, were just coming in. They jumped on the
first roosting lath, and then on the second, and began to walk
toward the rooster. One little chap jumped on his back, and the
two others crept under his wings. What surprised me most was that
the rooster took it very kindly, and has allowed the chicks to
continue their tricks every night.
WALTER C.
* * * * *
ROCHESTER, NEW YORK.
I have a little kitty that we took with us to the beach last
summer. When we went out rowing, she used to come with us in the
boat, and if she didn't like it, she would jump into the water and
swim ashore. When we walked up the beach for shells, she would
always follow us, even if we went two or three miles. I am eleven
years old, and my name is
WINIFRED B.
* * * * *
SALINA, KANSAS.
We have had such hard winds in Kansas this spring that the air
would be so filled with thick clouds of dust and sand that we
could not see a square away for hours at a time, and the air
seemed charged with electricity. They were called electric storms,
and the telegraph operators could hardly use their batteries at
all. Can any one tell me what caused the electricity?
CHARLEY H. G.
* * * * *
DALLAS, PENNSYLVANIA.
I am a lame boy, and can not go to school. I have been taking
music lessons, and I can play on the piano and the organ. Papa and
mamma are going to send me to the Conservatory of Music. I am
eleven years old.
WILLIE H. H.
* * * * *
BELLE PLAINE, IOWA.
We have just found some buttercups for the first time this spring
(April 15). I want to tell you about my pets. I have a dog named
Watch, and I love him ever so much. He is black and white. We have
a red and white calf. It butted me once, but I like it all the
same.
ARTIE F.
* * * * *
YARMOUTH, NOVA SCOTIA.
I am eight years old. Papa takes YOUNG PEOPLE for me, and I am
going to have it bound as mamma has her BAZAR. She did not have it
bound last year, for she sent it to Edinburgh to my aunt Annie. I
go to school every day, and like to go. One of our large
school-houses was burned down the other night. It cost about nine
thousand dollars, and nearly three hundred children went to school
there. We had a spelling match at my school just before Christmas,
and I beat. We have a mare named Nell, and a cow named Maud. We
had a pig named Aubrey Percival, but now we call him _Pork_.
CHARLIE P.
* * * * *
ST. JOHNS, MICHIGAN.
I am seven years old. Yesterday (April 14) I saw a butterfly in
our yard. It was a blue-black with light spots. I tried to catch
it, but couldn't. The same day I saw a bumble-bee. I have a
shepherd dog named Punch, and when I go anywhere, he always
squeals to go too. He is my best playmate, as I have no brothers
or sisters. I think the Post-office Box in YOUNG PEOPLE is very
interesting.
ROBERT E. C.
* * * * *
NEVADA, MISSOURI.
My father is a harness-maker, and I help him morning and evening,
before and after school, and at night I read YOUNG PEOPLE. I saw
in No. 24 a little letter from Joseph D. asking how to tame wild
rabbits. My brother was out hunting one day, and his dog caught a
rabbit by the leg. The leg was broken, so my brother took some
pine splinters and cut them into pieces about two inches long and
a quarter of an inch wide, and bound them round the leg, and it
got well. He tamed the rabbit by reaching his hand into the cage
where he kept it, and rubbing it gently. It soon became so tame it
would eat out of his hand.
J. L. G. L.
* * * * *
BROOKLYN, NEW YORK.
I read a letter in YOUNG PEOPLE No. 13 from a boy who hatched a
little chicken by putting the egg in ashes. I wish he would tell
me how he kept the egg warm.
NETTIE M. T.
* * * * *
SCRANTON, PENNSYLVANIA.
I have a recipe for Puss Hunter's cooking club: One cup of
molasses; three-quarters of a cup of sugar; one-quarter of a cup
of butter; four tea-spoonfuls of vinegar; a little vanilla. It
makes very nice candy. I have tried the recipe very often, and
have never known it to fail. I would like to be a member of the
cooking club.
R. C. W.
* * * * *
HANESVILLE, MARYLAND.
My papa takes YOUNG PEOPLE for us children, and I am very much
interested in the stories, especially in "Across the Ocean." My
brother likes to sing "I am the lad in the blue and white." I like
to go to school. We are going to have a picnic in May, and are
learning pretty pieces to sing and speak. I expect we will have a
fine time; and if any of the young correspondents of Our
Post-office Box would like to hear about it, I will write and tell
them what kind of a time we really do have.
ELSIE J. S.
* * * * *
HOHEN SOLMS, LOUISIANA.
I am a little Southern girl. My father is a sugar-planter, and we
have a nice home on the banks of the Mississippi River. We have a
very fine pointer. In reply to the question of Joseph D. in No. 24
about taming wild rabbits, I will say that he must put them in a
cage, not too small, and feed and pet them every day.
M. A. B.
* * * * *
GREENFIELD, ILLINOIS.
I have a coach-dog named Beauty. When I play a French harp, she
will cry and act very sad. She comes and lays her head in my lap,
and seems to wish me to keep on playing. I can not tell whether
she likes music or not, but she always howls when I play. I have a
dear little brother named Lynn, a year and a half old. He kisses
me good-by every morning when I go to school. I am nearly ten
years old.
JESSE L. B.
* * * * *
ORODELFAN, COLORADO.
I thought I would tell you how much I like to have them hand me my
paper at the post-office. My brother subscribed for it for me. I
live in the Rocky Mountains. We own one-half interest in a gold
and silver mine. We came here for my mother's health. She was very
sick, and now she is well. I can have all the specimens from the
mine that I wish for.
E. PALMER G.
* * * * *
ELWOOD, ILLINOIS.
In the piece about Easy Botany in No. 24, YOUNG PEOPLE, I read
that bloodroot grows in New England. It grows out here in Illinois
too, and I found some a few days ago. We have a pet dog named
Maria. She runs after the chickens and pigs.
LILLIE MACC.
* * * * *
BELOIT, WISCONSIN.
I thought I would write to you about gophers. The gopher is a
little animal which lives in the ground. It digs a hole about two
feet deep, and it eats corn and other grain. Gophers destroy so
many crops that the farmers do not like them, and they pay boys
for killing them. I earned forty-eight cents last year killing
gophers. I would take a club and a pail of water, and go to their
holes. When I poured in some water, they would run out, and I
would kill them with the club.
ARTHUR N. T.
The gopher, or Canada pouched rat, is a very remarkable burrower, as it
will dig under-ground passages extending in lateral galleries in all
directions. It is difficult to capture, as it keeps open a means of
escape on every side. The mischief done by this creature is very
extensive. It delights to burrow among the roots of fruit trees, which
it gnaws, until often a large tree dies from the under-ground attacks of
this troublesome animal.
* * * * *
E. A. C.--It is impossible for us to comply with your request.
* * * * *
W. B. B.--Flowers are beautiful pets, and repay well the attention
bestowed upon them. The large plant, with its wide-spreading
bluish-green leaves, which bears the castor-bean, is raised from the
seed, like any other bean. It is an annual, but it grows so rapidly that
by midsummer it is already several feet high. In some countries this
plant is called palm-of-Christ, and is much valued as a garden ornament,
as its pale green leaves form a beautiful contrast when growing among
masses of dark shrubbery.
* * * * *
ADDIE P.--Your beautiful wild flower was so faded and crushed when it
reached us that it was impossible to identify it.
* * * * *
G. H. FISHER and "NUCTUM."--In an article soon to be published in YOUNG
PEOPLE you will find all your questions fully answered.
* * * * *
"SUBSCRIBER," BROOKLYN.--For directions for preserving insects, see
answer to Katie R. P., Post-office Box, No. 27.
* * * * *
MARIE S.--Ocean Grove, Squan, or Seagirt, New Jersey; Vineyard Grove,
Dukes County, Massachusetts; and many places along the New England
coast.
* * * * *
SHELTON A. H.--Turtles should have a big tub of earth in which to bury
themselves in the winter. Or if they are let loose in a yard, they will
take care of themselves, and appear again in the spring. Read the answer
to Lyman C. in Post-office Box, No. 5, where you will find full
directions for the care of turtles.
* * * * *
CHARLIE W. M.--Your charade is gracefully made, but too personal to be
printed in YOUNG PEOPLE. Thanks for your pretty compliments.
* * * * *
Favors are acknowledged from Frank Graves, Lepine Rice, "Carlo Vite,"
Katherine Hall, Arthur Morse, Fanny Pierce, Lucy Emmons, Paul R. H.,
Edith E. G., Evelyn D., "Sister," Graham Herford, Willie D., P.
Roodhouse, Bessie MacLachlan, Mamie W. Perrin, Frank H., Lawrence Pugh,
Minnie Hilton, J. H. Loewen, C. K. Shelby, Garland S., Jacob Sehen,
Wallace Stephens, Harry MacGraw, Agnes S. MacInnes, Dioma Russell,
Aubrey C. Smith, Fred Zoller.
* * * * *
Correct answers to puzzles received from Pierre Jay, Edmund Taylor, E.
Clark, Lillie MacCrea, J. T. S., Robert R. S., John Whelan, Annie and
C. H. MacB., Mary Greene, George H. Radley, Ruth Montague, Clarence
Howard, Minnie H. Ingham, Philip D. Rice, Willie G. Springer, Claude and
Bessie Comstock, Eugene and Maud Watson, Charley H. Gibson, Paul J. H.,
Eddie A. Leet, Mamie E. F., Shelton A. H., "Fatinitza," William G.
Macdonald.
* * * * *
PUZZLES FROM YOUNG CONTRIBUTORS.
No. 1.
DIAMOND PUZZLE.
In silent. To tear. A flowering shrub. To stuff. In skeptic.
M. W.
* * * * *
No. 2.
GEOGRAPHICAL DOUBLE ACROSTIC.
A French city. A town near the mouth of the Dnieper River. An Italian
city. A town in Ireland. A city in Spain. A Mexican province.
Answer--Two countries in Europe.
C. P. T.
* * * * *
No. 3.
NUMERICAL CHARADE.
I am composed of 11 letters.
My 9, 10, 1, 5, 8 is a boy's name.
My 4, 7, 2, 8 is an animal.
My 3, 11, 6 is to entreat.
My whole is beautiful and sweet.
JENNIE.
* * * * *
No. 4.
DROP-LETTER PUZZLE.
A familiar proverb:
M--k--h--y--h--l--t--e--u--s--i--e--.
BERTHA.
* * * * *
No. 5.
ENIGMA.
My first is in beam, but not in shine.
My second is in grape, but not in vine.
My third is in crying, but not in scream.
My fourth is in fleeting, but not in dream.
My fifth is in glove, but not in hand.
My sixth is in shore, but not in land.
My seventh is in glow, but not in burn.
My eighth is in vase, but not in urn.
My ninth is in run, but not in motion.
My whole came over the stormy ocean.
J. A. W.
* * * * *
No. 6.
RIDDLE.
I am a little word of four letters, yet you will find in me a
preposition, a negation, and an exclamation. I am as old as the sun, and
he could not possibly fulfill his daily course without me. I am a rest
to the weary laborer, and a delight to school-children, who greet me
with a shout of welcome. I aid in construction and consolation--indeed,
they could not exist without me; and although they break me to pieces, I
am never in bad temper. Who can find me out?
C. S. N.
* * * * *
ANSWERS TO PUZZLES IN NO. 25.
No. 1.
Leonidas.
No. 2.
Titania.
No. 3.
S
A N N
S N A I L
N I P
L
No. 4.
H O S T
O B O E
S O A R
T E R M
No. 5.
Magdalena.
No. 6.
M oras S
A ffra Y
G iganti C
N evad A
O verwhel M
L ass O
I nsula R
A cced E
Magnolia, Sycamore.
* * * * *
Charade on page 344--Cross-bow.
ADVERTISEMENTS.
HARPER'S YOUNG PEOPLE.
HARPER'S YOUNG PEOPLE will be issued every Tuesday, and may be had at
the following rates--_payable in advance, postage free_:
SINGLE COPIES $0.04
ONE SUBSCRIPTION, _one year_ 1.50
FIVE SUBSCRIPTIONS, _one year_ 7.00
Subscriptions may begin with any Number. When no time is specified, it
will be understood that the subscriber desires to commence with the
Number issued after the receipt of order.
Remittances should be made by POST-OFFICE MONEY ORDER, or DRAFT, to
avoid risk of loss.
ADVERTISING.
The extent and character of the circulation of HARPER'S YOUNG PEOPLE
will render it a first-class medium for advertising. A limited number of
approved advertisements will be inserted on two inside pages at 75 cents
per line.
Address
HARPER & BROTHERS,
Franklin Square, N. Y.
FINE TROUT TACKLE.
[Illustration]
We offer a fine 3 Joint Fly Rod, 15 yard Brass Reel, 100 ft. Linen Line,
3 Flies, 3 Hooks to gut, & Leader, complete, by express for $5.00; by
mail, postpaid, $5.50; sample Flies by mail, postpaid, 10c. each; per
doz., $1.00; complete Catalogue Free.
PECK & SNYDER, Manufacturers,
124 and 126 Nassau St., N. Y.
OUR CHILDREN'S SONGS.
* * * * *
Our Children's Songs. Illustrated. 8vo, Ornamental Cover, $1.00.
* * * * *
The best compilation of songs for the children that we have ever
seen.--_New Bedford Mercury._
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
Ledger._
* * * * *
Published by HARPER & BROTHERS, New York.
HARPER & BROTHERS _will send the above work by mail, postage prepaid, to
any part of the United States, on receipt of the price_.
FISHING OUTFITS.
CATALOGUE FREE.
R. SIMPSON, 132 Nassau Street, N. Y.
The Child's Book of Nature.
* * * * *
The Child's Book of Nature, for the Use of Families and Schools:
intended to aid Mothers and Teachers in Training Children in the
Observation of Nature. In Three Parts. Part I. Plants. Part II. Animals.