restored, and had told her grandmother the whole story, before Jack
arrived, half an hour later.
He, too, had something to recount. On his way home from the landlord's
grounds, where he had been working, he was overtaken by a young woman,
who seemed in a great state of alarm. She told Jack that she was the
nursery maid, and that while that afternoon she was sitting at work
beneath one of the trees, with the children playing around her, one of
them--little Gertrude, a child about six years old--must have slipped
away from her brother and sisters unobserved; and when tea time came,
and the nurse rose to bring the children home, she was nowhere to be
found. The nurse had taken the other three little ones home, and had
now come in search of Gertrude, fearful lest she should fall into
danger of any kind.
Jack would not stop to eat his supper, after telling his own story and
hearing Maggie's, but announced his intention of at once carrying the
little truant lady back to her home.
So the kind-hearted youth took Gertrude in his arms, and soon conveyed
her safely to the landlord's house, where she astonished every one by
the childish recital of her own danger and Maggie's courage.
The next morning Gertrude's mother came down to the cottage to thank
Maggie for the preservation of her darling's life, and to bring a
message from her husband.
This message consisted of his grateful acknowledgments, and of the
promise that Jack should be promoted to the office of assistant
gardener as soon as that post was vacant (which would be in the course
of a few weeks). But, best of all, the promise included also this,
namely, that the widow and her grandchildren should hold the cottage
rent free for the remainder of their lives.
Thus was averted, by means wholly unforeseen, the trial of poverty and
want so dreaded by the old widow in her thoughts of the future; and
never again was she heard to repine, or even to express a fear for
herself or for those whom she loved.
DECLAMATION--FAITHFUL UNTO DEATH;
OR, THE SENTRY OF HERCULANEUM.[B]
"Dark's the night, dun's the sky with smoke;
Never more my guard they'll change;
Three hours ago I could crack my joke,
And now e'en the thought seems strange.
"Hark! the thunder bellows loud,
And the night's come down apace,
And the lava flame, through its sulphurous cloud,
Is ruddy on my face.
"With a crash did yon temple fall;
But ever, through all the din,
Shrill rose a death-wail o'er all,
The vestals' screams within.
"Men are running, away, away,
With tight zones up yonder street;
But a soldier of Rome must stay
At his post, as seems him meet.
"I remember my levying morn--
I remember my sacred vow;
And I'd hold it matter of scorn
In death's teeth to break it now.
"Jove! lava is all around--
It nears me with scorching breath;
It hisses along the ground
To my feet, and the hiss means--death.
"I've fought as a soldier should
'Neath many an alien sky,
And at home at my post I've stood
Amidst cowards, and now, to die.
"Great Mars, give me heart of grace
_Triarii_,[C] over the bowl
Say, 'He died with a smile on his face,
And glory in his soul'!"
W. B. B. STEVENS.
[Illustration: THE FAITHFUL SENTRY.]
FOOTNOTES:
[B] Overwhelmed, together with Pompeii, by a lava eruption, A. D. 79.
[C] The Roman _Triarii_ were old soldiers, of approved valor, who
formed the third line in a legion--hence their name.
VACATION.
O, master, no more of your lessons!
For a season we bid them good by,
And turn to the manifold teachings
Of ocean, and forest, and sky.
We must plunge into billow and breaker;
The fields we must ransack anew;
And again must the sombre woods echo
The glee of our merry-voiced crew.
From teacher's and preacher's dictation--
From all the dreaded lore of the books--
Escaped from the thraldom of study,
We turn to the babble of brooks;
We hark to the field-minstrels' music,
The lowing of herds on the lea,
The surge of the winds in the forest,
The roar of the storm-angered sea.
To the tree-tops we'll climb with the squirrels;
We will race with the brooks in the glens;
The rabbits we'll chase to their burrows;
The foxes we'll hunt to their dens;
The woodchucks, askulk in their caverns,
We'll visit again and again;
And we'll peep into every bird's nest
The copses and meadows contain.
For us are the blackberries ripening
By many a moss-covered wall;
There are bluehats enough in the thickets
To furnish a treat for us all;
In the swamps there are ground-nuts in plenty;
The sea-sands their titbits afford;
And, O, most delectable banquet,
We will feast at the honey-bee's board!
O, comrades, the graybeards assure us
That life is a burden of cares;
That the highways and byways of manhood
Are fretted with pitfalls and snares.
Well, school-days have _their_ tribulations;
Their troubles, as well as their joys.
Then give us vacation forever,
If we must forever be boys!
BEVERLY MOORE.
[Illustration: "ESCAPED FROM THE THRALDOM OF STUDY,
WE TURN TO THE BABBLE OF BROOKS."]
UNCLE JOHN'S SCHOOL-DAYS.
This picture reminds me, children, of some funny stories that I have
heard your uncle John tell, when he and I were boy and girl together,
of his exploits as a schoolboy. According to his account, not only he,
but most of his schoolfellows, used to lead merry lives enough at
school. They had what they called the "Academy Band," and grand music
it made, with a hat-box for a drum, cricket-bat for violoncello, and
paper flute and trumpets. You would not recognize Uncle John, whom you
know only as a man six feet high, in that little lad on the left side
of the picture with a battledore for a fiddle. They had a great deal
of what he called excellent fun, though I am afraid it sometimes
bordered upon mischief or naughtiness. I used to consider that he and
his schoolfellows were regular heroes as I listened to his stories
when he came home for the holidays; and even now I must confess I
cannot help laughing when I think of some of his naughty pranks.
Uncle John first went to a large school when he was eleven years old,
and I remember now the tremendous hamper of good things he took with
him. The boys who slept in his bedroom were so pleased with the
contents of his hamper that they determined to make a great feast. To
add to their enjoyment, they imagined themselves to be settlers in the
backwoods of America or Australia. They built a log hut with bolsters,
and had a sort of picnic. One of them mounted on the top of the log
hut to look out with his telescope for any approaching savages, while
the others enjoyed their suppers in and about the hut. When their fun
was at its height, the door softly opened, and in walked Dr. Birchall,
spectacles on nose and cane in hand. What followed may be imagined.
You know that Uncle John is an engineer now, and even as a little boy
he had a great turn for mechanical inventions. Well, he pondered over
some means by which such a sudden interruption to the enjoyment of
his schoolfellows might be prevented in future; and I will tell you
what he did.
It happened that the large room in which he slept formed the upper
floor of a wing of the house which had been added to it when it became
a school; and there was no access to this room from the principal
staircase of the house. You had to pass through the room below and go
up a little separate staircase to reach to the floor above. The lower
room was also a bedroom for the boys, and Uncle John's little scheme
was this:
He made a hole with a gimlet in the frame of one of the windows of his
bedroom, passed a piece of string through the hole, and carried it
outside the wall of the house down to a similar hole in a window-frame
of the room below. To the end of the string in the upper room was
fastened a small rattle, while the other end of the string--that in
the room below--was taken into the bed of a boy who slept near the
window.
This admirable little invention once in order, there was more rioting
in the upper room than ever; and the master, disturbed by the noise,
soon went, cane in hand, to stop it. The instant he set foot in the
lower room the boy there who held the string in bed gave it a little
pull: the rattle sounded--ting! ting!--in the room above, and in an
instant every boy was in bed and snoring. Perhaps they had been
playing at leap-frog the moment before, but as Dr. Birchall entered
the room--and he crept up the staircase very quietly, that he might
catch them unawares--he found some twenty boys lying in bed, seemingly
sound asleep, though snoring unnaturally loud.
The doctor was so disconcerted by this unexpected state of things that
he retired at once, fancying perhaps that his ears had deceived him
when he thought he had heard a noise in the room. The same thing
happened two or three times; the doctor was puzzled, and the
invention appeared a complete success; but at last all was
discovered.
[Illustration: THE ACADEMY BAND.]
The boys one evening began imprudently to play at "tossing in the
blanket" before they were undressed. The rattle sounded, and they had
just time to hide away the blanket. But the doctor coming in, and
finding they were only then beginning to undress, knew they must have
been at some mischief, and began questioning one after another.
Unluckily, while he was in the room the rattle sounded again by
accident; perhaps the boy in the room below had pulled the string by
moving in bed. The doctor looked about, found the rattle hanging just
below the window, saw the string, opened the window and traced its
course outside, went down into the room below, and understood the
whole arrangement. Then he put the rattle in his pocket and went away
without saying a word. The boys declared he had such difficulty in
keeping himself from laughing that he was afraid to speak lest he
should burst out.
However, next day every boy in that room had a slight punishment, and
so the matter ended.
Now I will tell you another of Uncle John's pranks at school. There
was a large tree in the playground, the upper branches of which spread
out very near to the windows of the bedroom I have been describing.
One evening Uncle John got hold of a large hand-bell which was used
for ringing the boys up in the morning; and climbing up the tree, he
fastened it by a piece of string to a branch near the top. Then
another boy threw him the end of a long string from a window of the
bedroom into the tree, and he fastened it to the bell in such a way
that when it was pulled in the bedroom it made the bell ring in the
tree. Having accomplished this arrangement, he came down from the tree
and went to bed.
At ten o'clock at night the household was disturbed by the loud
ringing of this bell. The master, in his dressing-gown, came out into
the playground, and soon discovered where the sound came from, but of
course supposed that some boy had climbed up into the tree, and was
ringing the bell there. It was the middle of summer, and a beautiful
moonlight night, so the boys could see from the windows all that took
place. Dr. Birchall stood at the foot of the tree, looking up, and
exclaimed, angrily,
"Come down, you naughty boy! Come down, I say, directly! Oh, I'll give
you such a flogging! Stop that horrible noise, I tell you, and come
down!"
The bell still went on ringing. At last the string--being pulled too
hard, I suppose, in the excitement of the fun--broke, and the bell
tumbled down from the top of the tree, falling very near the old
schoolmaster. This was worse than all.
"What!" he exclaimed; "you throw the bell at me? Why, if it had hit me
on the head, it might have killed me. Oh, you wicked boy! I'll expel
you, sir. I'll find out who you are if I stop here till morning."
At last, however, his patience was exhausted, and he went away, but
left an old butler to watch the tree all night. The boys from the
windows could see this man settle himself comfortably on a seat which
was at the foot of the tree. He lighted his pipe, and prepared to
carry out his master's orders and watch till daylight. By three
o'clock in the morning the dawn broke; then the man began to look up
occasionally into the tree. Now and then he walked a little distance
away, first in one direction, and then in another, to look into parts
of the tree that he could not see from underneath. He kept this up
till the sun had risen and it was broad daylight; then at last he
became convinced that it was impossible there could be a boy in the
tree. He walked slowly into the house, still smoking his pipe, with a
puzzled expression on his face.
And I suspect he was not the only person who felt puzzled. The next
day the boys were going home for the holidays, so that no further
inquiry could be made. I wonder if Dr. Birchall ever found out how it
had been managed?
[Illustration: THE ENGLISH MASTIFF.]
FAITHFUL FRIENDS.
The dog has sometimes been called the "friend of man." This is
because, of all animals, it is the one whose attachment to mankind is
purely personal. It is found in almost every part of the world,
sharing every variation of climate and outward lot with the human
race. There are only a few groups of islands in the Southern Pacific
Ocean where this valuable creature is wanting. Without its aid, how
could men have procured sustenance among tribes to whom the art of
tilling the land was not known? or how could they have resisted the
attacks of the beasts of prey that roamed in the forests around them?
Anecdotes of dogs, when they are well attested, are always welcome;
and I will therefore relate a few.
There were some time ago two families, one living in London, the other
at Guildford, seventeen miles distant. These families were very
friendly with each other, and for several years it was the custom of
the one residing in London to pass the Christmas with the one at
Guildford. It was the visitors' uniform practice to arrive to dinner
the day before Christmas day; and they were accompanied by a large
spaniel, which was a great favorite with both families.
These visits were thus regularly paid for seven years. At the end of
that time an unfortunate misunderstanding between the friends caused
the usual Christmas invitation from the country to be omitted. About
an hour before dinner, on the day before Christmas day, the Guildford
gentleman, who was standing at his window, exclaimed to his wife,--
"Well, my dear, the ----s have thought better of it. I declare they
are coming as usual, though we did not invite them; here comes Caesar
to announce them."
Sure enough, the dog came trotting up to the door, and was admitted,
as he had often been before, to the parlor. The lady of the house gave
orders to prepare beds; dinner waited an hour; but no guests arrived.
Caesar, after staying the exact number of days to which he had been
accustomed, one morning set off for home, and reached it in safety.
The correspondence which this visit of the favorite spaniel
occasioned, had the happy effect of renewing the intercourse of the
estranged friends. As long as Caesar lived, he paid the annual visit,
in company with his master and mistress, to Guildford.
"A Frenchman named Chabert, who, from his wonderful performances with
fire, was known as the 'Fire King,' was the owner of a very beautiful
Siberian dog, which, when yoked to a light carriage, used to draw him
twenty miles a day. Chabert sold him for nearly two hundred pounds;
for the creature was as docile as he was beautiful. Between the sale
and the delivery, the dog happened to get his leg broken. Chabert, to
whom the money was of great importance, was almost in despair,
expecting that the lamed animal would be returned, and the price
demanded back. He took the dog by night to a veterinary surgeon, and
formally introduced them to each other.
"'Doctor, my dog; my dog, your doctor.'
"He next talked to the dog, pointed to his own leg, limped around the
room, and then requested the surgeon to apply bandages to his leg;
after which he walked about the room sound and well. Chabert then
patted the dog on the head, who was looking by turns at him and the
surgeon; desired the surgeon to pat him, and to offer him his hand to
lick; and lastly, holding up his finger to the dog, and gently shaking
his head, quitted the room and the house. The dog immediately laid
himself down, submitted to have the fracture set, and to have a
bandage put on the limb, without a motion beyond once or twice licking
the operator's hand. He was afterwards submissive, and lay all but
motionless day after day, until, at the end of a month, the limb was
sound and whole once more. So perfect was the cure, that the purchaser
never knew the dog had sustained any injury."
I will finish my paper with a story of a dog that saved the life of a
French soldier who was wounded in one of the terrible battles that
have been lately fought in France:--
"The man had been struck by a ball in the chest, near the village of
Ham, and lay on the ground for six hours after the fighting was over.
He had not lost consciousness; but the blood was flowing freely, and
he was gradually getting weaker and weaker. There were none but the
dead near him; and his only living companion was an English terrier,
which ran restlessly about him, with his master's _kepi_, or military
cap, in his mouth.
"At last the dog set off at a trot; and the wounded soldier made sure
that now his last friend had deserted him. The night grew dark, the
cold was intense, and he had not even the strength to touch his
wounds, which every instant grew more and more painful.
[Illustration: {The terrier, carrying a kepi, tries to get help for
his master}]
"At length his limbs grew cold, and, feeling a sickly faintness steal
upon him, he gave up all hope of life, and recommended himself to
the mercy of God. Suddenly he heard a bark, which he knew belonged to
only one little dog in the world, then felt something lick his face,
and saw the glare of lanterns. The dog had wandered for miles till he
arrived at a road-side _cabaret_, or country wine-shop. The people had
heard the cannonading all day, and seeing the _kepi_ in the dog's
mouth, and noticing his restless movements, decided to follow him. He
took them straight to the spot--too straight for a little cart they
had brought with them to cross fields and hedges--but just in time.
When the friendly help arrived, the man fainted; but he was saved.
There were honest tears in the man's eyes when he was telling me,"
says the narrator; "and I fully believed him. The dog, too, had been
slightly touched in the leg by a ball in the same battle, and has
since been lame. He got him, when a puppy, from an English sailor at
Dunkirk, and called him 'Beel;' very probably the French for Bill."
This little terrier showed something more than instinct--some share,
at least, of common sense. At all events, he deserves to be
immortalized; so here you have his portrait, with the cap in his
mouth, begging the people whom he has found in the way-side inn to
come to the help of his wounded master.
X.
[Illustration: THE ERL-KING.]
[Illustration: {Flowers}]
THE ERL KING.
Who rideth so late through the night-wind wild?
It is the father with his child;
He has the little one well in his arm,
He holds him safe, and he folds him warm.
"My son, why hidest thy face so shy?"
"Seest thou not, father, the Erl King nigh?
The Erlen King, with train and crown?"
"It is a wreath of mist, my son."
"Come, lovely boy, come go with me;
Such merry plays I will play with thee!
Many a bright flower grows on the strand,
And my mother has many a gay garment at hand."
"My father, my father, and dost thou not hear
What the Erl King whispers in my ear?"
"Be quiet, my darling, be quiet, my child;
Through withered leaves the wind howls wild."
"Come, lovely boy, wilt thou go with me?
My daughters fair shall wait on thee,
My daughters their nightly revels keep,
They'll sing, and they'll dance, and they'll rock thee to sleep."
"My father, my father, and seest thou not
The Erl King's daughters in yon dim spot?"
"My son, my son, I see, and I know
'Tis the old gray willow that shimmers so."
"I love thee; thy beauty has ravished my sense;
And willing or not, I will carry thee hence."
"O, father, the Erl King now puts forth his arm--
O, father, the Erl King has done me harm."
The father shudders, he hurries on;
And faster he holds his moaning son;
He reaches his home with fear and dread,
And lo! in his arms the child was dead.
_From the German of Goethe._
THE SILLY YOUNG RABBIT.
TRANSLATED FROM THE GERMAN.
There was a young rabbit
Who had a bad habit--
Sometimes he would do what his mother forbid.
And one frosty day,
His mother did say,
"My child you must stay in the burrow close hid;
For I hear the dread sounds
Of huntsmen and hounds,
Who are searching around for rabbits like you;
Should they see but your head,
They would soon shoot you dead,
And the dogs would be off with you quicker than boo!"
But, poor foolish being!
When no one was seeing,
Looking out from his burrow to take a short play,
He hopped o'er the ground
With many a bound,
And looked around proudly, as if he would say,
Do I fear a man?
Now catch me who can!
So this young rabbit ran to a fine apple tree,
Where, gnawing the bark,
He thought not to hark
The coming of hunters, so careless was he.
Now, as rabbits are good
When roasted or stewed,
A man came along hunting rabbits for dinner;
He saw little bun,
Then raised his big gun,
And there he lay dead, the foolish young sinner.
[Illustration: THE SILLY RABBIT.]
NINO.
The rain was just beginning to fall in a thin, chilling drizzle, and
the cold air nipped sharply any unwary toe that showed itself, as Nino
played a little air full of thoughts of birds and flowers. His thin
jacket was no protection, and his dark eyes looked as if a shower
might drop from them; but the clouds had been over his life too long,
and there were no tears left to fall. He was not so old that this must
be the case; but he stood alone in the wide street, and no one spoke
to or noticed him. One friend he had--his guitar; and now he put that
under his jacket, lest the rain should hurt it.
"_Ah, carissima!_" he murmured, as he hugged it under his arm; "you
are never hungry or tired, and you shall not be wet. One of us shall
be happy."
The guitar gave a little whisper as his jacket rubbed against it, and
Nino smiled and nodded in answer. Now the rain was falling rapidly,
and he stepped under an awning, to wait until it held up. There was a
lady standing there, her skirts held high, and her cloak drawn
closely, and Nino stood one side; for why should he be near any one?
He well knew no one wanted him. He watched the water run by in the
gutter, and looked into the barrel of apples at his side--large, rosy
apples, that would be so good; and he glanced up to see if any one saw
him. Why not take one? He could hide it, and eat it afterwards. The
grocer had so many; he had none, and it was days since he had eaten
anything but dry bread. He knew it was not right to take what belonged
to another; but he heard so little of right, and hunger and want
pressed him every day.
As he stood thinking, not quite resolved to take one, there was a
patter of little feet, a merry laugh, and a bright vision stood by
his side.
Was she a fairy? She looked as he always felt his guitar would look if
it could take a human form--slender, active, fair. A shower of golden
hair, not pale, but bright, like the summer sun; eyes as deep and blue
as the distant sky; a face of which one would dream. Nino held his
breath, and as the blue velvet coat brushed his ragged arm, drew a
sigh, and stepped back.
"Did I frighten you, little boy?" asked the child. "It was raining so
hard, and nursey had to run."
"Come, stand in here, where it does not drip," cried the nurse,
drawing her away.
Nino peeped under his coat, to be sure his guitar had not been
transformed, and then stepped aside under the eaves. It seemed as if
he ought to be wet when such a lovely being was obliged to endure the
discomfort of standing there. As she chattered, he drew near again,
and wondered whether angels did not look like that. She was certainly
more beautiful than those in churches. He had forgotten that he was
cold, and was feeling very happy, when the intentness of his gaze
attracted the child's attention. She was whispering to her nurse, when
a harsh voice cried out,--
"Boy, go away from there! I can't watch those apples all the time."
Nino had thoughtlessly laid his hand on the barrel, and when the
grocer spoke, moved hastily away.
"Here, little boy," cried the silvery tones of the child; "don't go; I
want to give you an apple." Then she said to the grocer, "A big one,
please."