above the horizon like a morning cloud. She regarded him no more than
she would a scarlet-breasted bird which sung above her head when she
went into the forest hard by to gather sticks.
So no wonder that she was taken mightily aback when, one afternoon as
she came home with her bundle of sticks, her mother met her with
wide-open eyes and a pale face.
"Cynthy, they've been here and carried off Free-n'-equal."
"'They!'" gasped Cynthia. "Who?"
"The British soldiers. They tied a rope round her horns. She kicked
well, but they jerked her along. Cynthy, Cynthy, what shall we do?"
Cynthia uttered a sound between a groan and a war-whoop, and darted out
of the door. Along the dusty road she ran, on and on. Her yellow
sun-bonnet fell back on her shoulders, and her brown curls were covered
with dust. One mile, two miles, three miles--on and on. At last she
reached a small house, which was Lord Cornwallis's head-quarters. Never
a moment did Cynthia pause. The sentinels challenged her in vain. She
marched majestically past them. Into the house--into the parlor--walked
she.
There sat Lord Cornwallis and some six of his officers, eating and
drinking at a big table.
Cynthia stopped at the threshold and dropped a courtesy.
Lord Cornwallis glanced up and saw her.
Miss Cynthia dropped another courtesy, opened her lips, and spake.
"I am Cynthia Smith," said she, gravely, "and your men have taken my
cow, Free-'n'-equal Smith, and I've come to fetch her home, if you
please."
"Your cow?" questioned Lord Cornwallis, pausing, with a wine-glass in
his hand.
"They carried her off by a rope," said Cynthia.
"Where do you live?" asked the British General.
"Three miles away, along with my mother."
"Have you no father?"
"One, and four brothers."
"Where is your father?"
"In General Gates's army, Mr. Lord Cornwallis."
"Oh, he's a rebel, is he?"
"Yes, sir," said Miss Cynthia, proudly erect.
"And where are your brothers?"
Cynthia paused. "John he went to heaven along with General Warren, from
the top of Bunker Hill," said she, with a trembling lip.
One of the younger officers smiled, but he stopped in a hurry as Lord
Cornwallis's eyes flashed at him.
"And Jack went to heaven," proceeded Cynthia, softly, "out of Valley
Forge, where he was helping General Washington."
"Where are the other two?"
"In the army, Mr. Lord Cornwallis." Cynthia's head was erect again.
"Rank rebels."
"Yes, they are."
"Hum! And you're a bit of a rebel too, I'm thinking, if the truth were
told."
Miss Cynthia nodded with emphasis.
"And yet you come here for your cow," said Lord Cornwallis. "I'll be
bound she's rebel beef herself."
Cynthia meditated. "I think she would be if she had two less legs, and
not quite so much horn. That is, she'd be rebel, but maybe they wouldn't
call her beef then."
Lord Cornwallis threw back his head and laughed a good-natured, hearty
laugh that made the room ring. All his officers laughed too, including
the miserable red-coat who had smiled over John's fate.
Miss Cynthia wondered what the fun might be; but in no wise abashed, she
stood firm on her two little feet, and waited until, the merriment over,
they might see fit to return to the cow in hand, which was certainly
worth any two in the camp.
At last her face began to flush a little. What if these fine gentlemen
were making game of her, after all.
Lord Cornwallis saw the red blood mount in her cheeks, and just because
he was a real gentleman, he became sober instantly. "Come here, my
little maid," said he. "I myself will see to it that your cow--"
"Free-'n'-equal," suggested Cynthia.
"That Free-'n'-equal," repeated Lord Cornwallis, courteously, "is safe
in your barn to-morrow morning. And perhaps," he added, unfastening a
pair of silver knee-buckles which he wore, "you will accept these as a
gift from one who certainly wishes no harm to these rebels. And that his
Majesty himself knows."
Then he rose and held his wine-glass above his head; so did every
officer in the room.
"Here's to the health of as fair a little rebel as we shall meet, and
God bless her!" said he.
She dropped her final courtesy, clasped the shining buckles, and out of
the room she vanished, sure in her mind that Free-'n'-equal was all her
own once more.
As for those buckles, children dear, they are this very day in the hands
of one of Cynthia's descendants. For there was a real cow and a real
Miss Cynthia, as well as a real Lord Cornwallis.
[Begun in HARPER'S YOUNG PEOPLE No. 66, February 1.]
PHIL'S FAIRIES.
BY MRS. W. J. HAYS,
AUTHOR OF "PRINCESS IDLEWAYS," ETC.
CHAPTER X.
THE PICNIC.
It was a perfect morning. Blue sky, with pure little snow-drop clouds,
as if the angels had dropped them from their baskets as they tended the
flowers in the heavenly gardens. The lake sparkled and glistened in the
sunshine, and every wave seemed to leap joyously as it broke in soft
foam on the shore. In one end of the _Flyaway_ sat Phil, on a pile of
shawls; in the other were stowed a large basket, a pail of ice, and a
pail of milk, and in between were Miss Rachel, Lisa, Joe, and Graham.
Phil had twisted up a little nosegay for each, and had pinned a broad
wreath of grape leaves around Joe's straw hat, making the old fellow
laugh at his nonsense. They were just pushing off, when a sudden
rattling of chain and some impatient barks from Nep showed that he began
to feel neglected.
"I thought we could get away unnoticed," said Miss Rachel, "but I find
myself mistaken."
The boys pleaded for Nep. "Ah, let him come, please let him come."
Nep's leaps becoming frantic, Miss Rachel yielded, and Graham soon had
him loosened. He jumped at once into the boat, and crept under Phil's
feet, making a nice warm mat.
"Poor Nep," said Phil, patting him, "he felt neglected;" and the big
tail wagged thankful thumps against the boat.
The morning air was sweet with all manner of herbage yet fresh from the
morning dew. The trees were in their most brilliant green, and every
leaf seemed newly washed.
Graham began a boating song, and Miss Schuyler joined in the chorus. Old
Joe chuckled and grinned; even quiet Lisa hummed a little as the song
rose louder; and Phil, dipping his hands in the clear water, imagined
that the fishes were frisking a waltz in their honor. They glided past
Point of Rocks, past huge beds of water-lilies, past lovely little coves
and inlets, and spots where Graham said there was excellent fishing;
finally Eagle Island became more distinct, and its pine-trees began to
look imposing.
"Here we are!" said Graham at last, bringing the _Flyaway_ up nicely on
a pebbly beach, in good boating style.
Graham and Joe made a chair with their hands and arms, and so carried
Phil very comfortably to the place under the trees which Miss Rachel had
chosen for their encampment.
"Now," said Miss Rachel, as she brought out Phil's portfolio, a book,
her own embroidery, and Lisa's sewing, "I propose that Graham, being a
more active member of society than we are, go off with Joe and catch
some fish for our dinner."
"Just the thing!" said Graham; "but I did not bring a line."
"Joe has everything necessary, bait and all," said Miss Schuyler.
"Now," said Miss Rachel, when the fishermen had gone, seeing Phil's
longing look, and knowing well how much he would have liked to go with
them, "we must go to work too, so that we may enjoy our play all the
more afterward. I could not let you go with Graham, my dear Phil; it
would have fatigued you too much; but I want you to try and draw me that
drooping bush on the edge of the water, and while you draw I will read
aloud for a while."
Miss Schuyler read, explained, talked to Phil about his drawing, and
gave him the names of the trees about him.
The time flew fast, and it seemed a very little while when Miss
Schuyler said to Lisa, "I think I hear oars; we had better be getting
our feast ready."
They brought out the basket and pails, spread a nice red dessert cloth
down on a smooth patch of grass, laid broad green leaves down for the
rolls and biscuits; golden balls of butter were in a silver dish of
their own, and so were the berries in a willow basket, around which they
put a few late wild flowers.
"Now we want a good flat stone for our fire-place, and-- Ah! here come
our fishermen just in time."
Graham and Joe now appeared with a few perch, but plenty of cat-fish.
They went to work with zeal, and soon had enough brush for the fire,
which they built at a good distance. And whilst Graham fed it, Joe
skinned his cat-fish, salted the perch, and laid them on the stone.
Then they all sat around their grassy table, and Joe served them in fine
style, bringing them their fish smoking hot on white napkins.
How merry they were over the good things, and how eager Graham was to
cook fish for Joe, and serve the old fellow as nicely as he had done all
of them! And Phil cut the very largest slice of cake for Joe.
"It is just the jolliest picnic I ever was at," said Graham, helping to
wash and clear away, and re-stow spoons and forks.
"Of course it is," said Phil. "There never can be another quite so nice:
it is my first one, you know."
"Yes; just think of it, and it's my fiftieth, I suppose; but then you
must not think all picnics like this. It is something really remarkable
to have everything go off so smoothly. Why, sometimes all the crockery
gets smashed, or the fire won't burn, or if it does, you get the smoke
in your eyes, or your potatoes get burned, and your lemonade gets in
your milk, or somebody puts your ice in the sun, and, to crown all, down
comes a shower."
"Dear! dear! what a chapter of accidents, Graham!"
"Are you listening, Miss Rachel?" said Graham, with a quizzical look. "I
was only letting Phil know how much better you manage than most people."
"Well, when you and Phil are ready, I want to tell you about something
else I should like to manage. Come, put away all the books and work, and
listen to my preaching."
Miss Rachel sat on a fallen tree, leaning against some young birches.
"Phil was asking me, yesterday," said she, "what became of all the poor
sick children in the city, and he seemed to think he ought in some way
to help them. So I promised him to think about what he had been
considering, and a little plan came into my head in which I thought you
could help us, Graham."
Graham looked up with a pleased face, and nodded.
"It is just this. In the city hospitals are many sick children who have
to stay in bed almost all the time. Now Phil and I want to do the little
that we can for them, and it seems to me it would be nice to send fresh
flowers and fruit--all that we can spare from our gardens--once or twice
a week to some of these sick city children. What do you think, boys?"
"It would be lovely, Miss Schuyler," said Phil, "only I do not see how
_we_ could help; it would all come from you."
"Not all, dear child. I mean to give you both a share of the work--you
in your way, and Graham in his. Are you interested? Shall I go on and
tell you?"
"Yes, indeed," both exclaimed.
"I propose that we set aside a certain part of our flower garden and our
fruit trees, you and I, Graham (for I know you have a garden of your
own), which we will call our 'hospital fruits and flowers,' and Phil is
to assist in making up bouquets, hulling berries, and packing to send
away; besides that, he is to make some little pictures, just little bits
of sketches of anything that he fancies--a spray of buds, a single
pansy, Joe's old hat and good-natured face beneath, a fish, or a bit of
vine-covered fence--and we will sell them for him, and the money shall
help pay the express charges upon our gifts to the sick children, so
that Phil will really be doing more than any of us. How do you like my
plan?"
The boys were pleased, and had begun to say so, when a shout came from
the other part of the island, from Joe, and Nep set up a violent
harking.
"Hi! look up dar, Miss Schuyler!" called out Joe.
[Illustration: "LOOK! THERE'S AN EAGLE."]
"Quick, Phil!" said Graham; "look! there's an eagle. How fortunate we
are! There he goes sailing away in all his glory;" and sure enough the
great bird floated further and further up in the blue sky.
Still Nep kept on barking, and Graham ran down to see what was the
matter. He came back with something dangling from his hand, Joe and Nep
following.
"A black snake!--oh, what a dreadful creature!" exclaimed Lisa.
"Yes, indeed, ma'am," said Joe, "and if Nep hadn't barked so, the
drefful cretur would have bitten me sure. That dog knows a heap; you'd
better allus take him with you in the woods, Miss Rachel. I was lyin'
off sound asleep, with this critter close beside me, when Nep come up,
and barked just as plain as speakin'. 'Take care,' says he, 'ole Joe,
you're in danger,' an' with that I woke in a hurry, an' jist then I saw
that big eagle come soarin' overhead, and then Marsa Graham come and
give that snake his death-blow."
"How did you do it, Graham?" asked Phil, excitedly.
"Oh, I pounded him on the head with a stone as he was making off. He is
a pretty big fellow, and he must have swum from the mainland, Miss
Schuyler."
"Yes, I never saw a snake on this island before."
"Come here, Nep," said Phil, "dear old fellow; good dog for taking care
of Joe. Your head shall be my first picture for our sick children."
[TO BE CONTINUED.]
EMBROIDERY FOR GIRLS.
BY SUSAN HAYES WARD.
One of the most exquisite pieces of embroidery I ever saw was brought
from the Royal School of Art Needle-Work at South Kensington by a
gentleman who imports the most beautiful art embroideries for sale in
this country. This was a sofa pillow of soft yellow India silk, with the
design outlined, and the rest of the surface darned back and forth in a
rich old-gold-color. A few lines of pale pink veined the petals, and
there was a narrow border of dull greenish-blue that inclosed the whole.
The only stitch used was simply an irregular darning stitch. The work
was so charming and so easy that any young girl would enjoy doing it. It
would be a very pretty way of embroidering work-bags or squares for the
backs of wall-brackets. The soft India silks are hard to find, but you
may find a dull yellow Surah silk, and there is a soft cream-colored
pongee that would do. Something near the color of a light yellow
nasturtium would be best. Get a piece eight inches square, trace on it
the design of Fig. 17, and back the silk with a piece of soft, very thin
unbleached muslin, and overcast the edges. Fig. 17 is just the size of a
tile such as is usually set in square wall-brackets. Buy a skein or two
of old gold filoselle of a somewhat darker shade than your silk, or a
good bronze-color that harmonizes well with it. First run the outline of
your flowers in the dark yellow or bronze, and the shading lines, taking
up but few threads of the silk with your needle, so that the outline
will show strong and plain on the surface. Outline the leaves and stems
in a dull, not too dark, green. Take two or three threads from a strand
of filoselle in your needle at once, and do not take too long a
needleful. Then darn the background back and forth, making the threads
run parallel to each other, but with constant variation as to the length
of stitch and the closeness of the lines--in this way:
[Illustration]
The background could be darned in dull blue if you prefer, or with
slightly varying shades of yellow. The irregularity in stitch, in
closeness of the lines, and in shade, all help to give the work a very
antique look. A narrow border can be darned all around of another color
that will not contrast too sharply with the flowers or the background.
[Illustration: FIG. 17.]
[Illustration: OUR POST-OFFICE BOX.]
VILLA PISCIONE, POSILIPPO, NAPLES, ITALY.
In the month of January a party of Americans had the honor of a
special excavation at Pompeii. There were nine in the party. We had
a room given us to be excavated. They found some table legs of
bronze ornamented with ivory rings, and a bronze vase which had
stood on the same table; also some nails and pieces of terra-cotta
vases. After the workmen had finished excavating, some of us went
to digging. My sister found two nails, auntie and another lady
found some nails too, and I found one handle of the bronze vase,
which had been broken off. We also went to where the workmen were
making the regular excavations, and saw a little bit of a fountain,
which the manager said was the finest which had been found yet. It
was of mosaic. Then we went to the Stabian Baths, and had our
luncheon, which was spread on an old marble fountain--a dry one, of
course. The Stabian Baths was the largest bathing establishment in
Pompeii. It was called Thermæ.
We went upon an embankment, and took a bird's-eye view of Pompeii.
It is a great mass of houses without roofs, and is a very odd
sight. I have seen it several times, and it does not look very
strange to me now.
I do not remember my first visit there, but I am told that I
danced on one of the mosaic floors in the house of Sallust, and
the guide said that children always wanted to dance in Pompeii. I
would like to write more about this old buried city, but I must go
to school.
I am nine years old, and my sister is eight. We are delighted with
YOUNG PEOPLE, especially with the story of "Toby Tyler," and are
impatient for the mail that brings it.
ODELL H. D.
* * * * *
WEST UNION, OHIO.
There is a very interesting Indian mound near this place, on the
banks of Brush Creek. It is called the Serpent Mound, because it is
in the form of a serpent. It is nearly one thousand feet in length,
extending in graceful curves, and ending in a triple coil at the
tail. Its neck is stretched out and slightly curved, and its mouth
is opened wide, as if in the act of swallowing an oval figure, like
a huge egg. Some think it was built to represent the Oriental idea
of the serpent and the egg. It is said to have been the work of a
race of men called the Mound-Builders, very many years ago. There
are other mounds here, but none so interesting as this one.
ETTIE C. I.
[Illustration: THE GREAT SERPENT MOUND.]
The mound described by our young correspondent is in Adams County, Ohio,
and is one of a number called "animal mounds," because they represent
the forms of animals, or birds, or men, instead of the usual type of the
pyramid or circle. The Serpent Mound is described in Short's work on
_The North Americans of Antiquity_, published by Harper & Brothers, from
which we take the accompanying illustration. It lies "with its head
conforming to the crest of hill, and its body winding back for seven
hundred feet in graceful undulations." Another remarkable work by the
ancient race of men is a large elephant mound, found a few miles below
the mouth of the Wisconsin River. It is so perfect in its proportions
that its builders must have been well acquainted with all the physical
characteristics of the elephant; so that the mound-builders may have
been of Asiatic origin, or lived when the great mastodon of North
America roamed over the continent. Another mound, in Licking County,
Ohio, represents an alligator. It is about two hundred feet in length,
twenty feet broad, and each of the paws is twenty feet long.
* * * * *
LAWRENCEBURG, TENNESSEE.
I live near where the celebrated David Crockett once lived. His old
house is still standing on our place. The logs are full of
auger-holes, where I suppose he had wooden pins to support shelves,
or to hang clothes and household things on. When my grandpa was a
little boy he knew David Crockett very well.
ELLA B.
David Crockett was a famous hunter, who was born in Tennessee in 1786.
He was a political friend of General Jackson, and was several times
elected to Congress. He was a great humorist, and very eccentric in his
habits. When the people of Texas revolted against the government of
Mexico, he enlisted in the Texan army, and lost his life in the terrible
massacre at Fort Alamo, in 1836, when the Mexicans, in violation of the
rules of war, slaughtered all their prisoners.
* * * * *
PHILADELPHIA, PENNSYLVANIA.
I am a little boy five years old. I take HARPER'S YOUNG PEOPLE, and
mamma and auntie read me all the pretty stories and all the little
letters in the Post-office Box.
I have a little brother three years old. We each have a bank in
which we keep our pennies. George's bank is a great big
cross-looking bull-dog. He has a flat place on his nose. If we put
a penny on it, and then pull his tail, he will open his mouth and
swallow the penny. My bank is a soldier who is standing in front
of the trunk of a tree. He has a gun in his hand, with which he
points at a hole in the tree. When I put a penny on the end of the
gun, and touch the soldier's foot, he fires off the gun, and the
penny goes into the hole. Papa gives us each a penny every day we
are good; but every day we are naughty we have to give him one. I
have fifty-one pennies in my bank. George has not quite so many,
but I am the oldest, and I ought to be the best boy.
I would like to write about some of our playthings, but I am
afraid my letter would be too long.
JOHN I. MCK.
* * * * *
NEW YORK CITY.
I would like to tell YOUNG PEOPLE what kind friends I have. I am a
poor little girl, and my mamma has to go out to work. I go to the
public school, but I am not very strong, and the noise and close
air sometimes make me sick. Once I had to stay from school a long
time; and there was a little girl who had a private teacher come
every day, and she let me go and study with her. She used to pay my
car fare out of her own spending money. It cost her sixty cents a
week. And she made me a present of all my school-books, and a great
many other handsome books. I do not think there are many little
girls so kind.
There is another little girl who made me a Christmas present of
YOUNG PEOPLE, and I will have it all the year. She, too, is very
kind to me. I like YOUNG PEOPLE very much. I think "Mildred's
Bargain," "Phil's 'Fairies," and especially poor "Toby Tyler," are
splendid stories.
MAY H.
* * * * *
SOUTH KIRTLAND, OHIO.
I thought I would tell YOUNG PEOPLE about my pet sheep. My grandpa
gave me a sheep and a lamb when I was a baby, and now I have seven.
They are all very tame, and almost run over me when I feed them. I
am seven years old.
I read in the Third Reader, and I study arithmetic and geography,
but I have never been to school.
FRANK T. C.
* * * * *
BEREA, OHIO.
I live on a beautiful farm. My papa raises lots of onions, and
sends them to Cincinnati by car-loads. There are a great many stone
quarries in this place, where they make grindstones. They are sent
all over the world from here. They also get big blocks of stone
from the quarries for building railroad bridges, houses, and
sidewalks.
Last summer I went up the lakes with papa and mamma as far as
Marquette. We saw lots of Indians sailing down the rivers in their
canoes, and a great many other pretty and interesting sights.
MAMIE W.
* * * * *
ST. LOUIS, MISSOURI.
When we lived in the country my sister had a pet deer. Its name was
Nellie. It was a very pretty creature. When we were in the garden,
and were hungry, we used to send Nellie to get us some bread, and
the darling little thing would go and get a loaf of bread from
grandma and bring it out to us. One day Nellie was running in the
woods, and some one shot her. My sister cried very much, and we
buried poor Nellie, and put flowers on her grave.
L. F.
* * * * *
RED OAK, IOWA.
I have been in bed for two months with rheumatism, and I look
forward to the coming of YOUNG PEOPLE with very great pleasure.
I think the picture of "Harry and Dan" is very pretty indeed. I
have not been able to walk any distance for more than a year, and
I think it would be real nice to have such a pretty goat and
sleigh.
I am very glad YOUNG PEOPLE disapproves of disturbing birds'
nests. I always thought it was very cruel.
GRACIE M.
* * * * *
BATAVIA, IOWA.
We think the Post-office Box, and everything in YOUNG PEOPLE, are
interesting. My brother Ernest likes "Toby Tyler" the best.
My little sister Mabel, two years old, can sing every tune she
hears once. She likes "Kissing through the Chair," in YOUNG PEOPLE
No. 57. She calls it "Peep Ho." She gets in the rocking-chair
every day, and rocks, and sings the first verse over and over for
a long time.
MINNIE H.
* * * * *
WARTHEN, GEORGIA.
I am thirteen years old. I take YOUNG PEOPLE, and like it very
much. I go to school nine miles from this place, and come home
every Friday evening. I call for my paper on my way, and I read it
to my little brother and sister. They are much pleased and
interested with the stories and pictures.