may as well pass into a proverb. It can _not_ be done."
"I'm not so sure. We're not through trying yet, you know," put in Rick,
with a peculiar look at his brother.
Karl motioned him aside after breakfast.
"What did you mean?" he asked.
"That I've an idea. Just listen;" and a great many questions and answers
were exchanged in a hurried undertone.
"Grand--if it will work. Then we must be all ready by the time he comes
down stairs?"
"Yes, and before that send a telegram to the boys."
"The boys" meant Hal and Jack Putnam; "a telegram," a note pinned to the
string that went round a wooden peg at one of the Budgett windows, and
another at the Putnams'.
"Why?" queried Karl.
"You'll see," replied Rick, as he hastily pencilled:
"'Be on the look-out for Uncle Budge. B. S.'"
The telegram came as the Putnam boys were breakfasting, and Jack laughed
as he read it aloud.
"What is the fun?" asked Mrs. Putnam. "And how strange it is I can not
remember those boys' names. Which one, now, is it that signs himself
'B. S.'?"
"Neither," laughed the boys, merrily. "'B. S.' means 'Big Show.' An
April-fool on Mr. Budgett."
"And mustn't be missed," added Hal. "Jane, please tell us when you see
Mr. Budgett come down street."
Jane went into the kitchen, where she hurriedly told the cook that Mr.
Budgett would probably be coming down town soon, with "April-fool"
chalked on his back.
"Ye don't mane it!" cried the interested Bridget. "Oh, thim byes! thim
byes!" and she flew after the departing milkman with the news, omitting,
however, the word "probably."
But to return to Mr. Budgett. Just as he was putting on his coat, he
heard whispers of,
"He's going, Karl, as sure as I'm alive!"
"And hasn't noticed it. Well, that's too good."
"He's looking in the glass now."
"Sh--sh! don't make so much noise."
"He sees it, I'm sure, or he'd have gone long ago."
"Sh--sh! can't you?"
Mr. Budgett heard it all. "I believe I've left my pocket-book," he said,
half aloud, as he turned to go up stairs.
"It's all up now," said Karl, vexedly.
"Maybe not. Keep dark."
"Couldn't very well do otherwise under these coats. Why doesn't he go?
I'm smothering."
This decided Mr. Budgett. Up he went, and with Aunt Budge's hand-glass
and the mirror took a complete survey.
"Did you find it?" called Aunt Budge, as he came down again.
"Yes," from Uncle Budge, who was listening for more whispers.
"We'll open the window, and watch him down the street."
"Sh--sh! How the Putnams will stare!"
A suppressed giggle followed.
The shutting of the front door was a signal for the boys to rush wildly
out of the hall closet into the dining-room, where Aunt Budge was
hovering over the breakfast dishes.
"What is it?" cried Aunt Budge, putting on her glasses. "Oh, what red
faces! Did you get shut in?"
"We're fooling Uncle Budge," said Rick, breathlessly. "He promised us
each a gold piece if we could," and he dashed up stairs after Karl.
They raised the windows cautiously, but not too quietly for Uncle Budge.
He heard, but did not look up, though he began to feel a little ill at
ease; and no less so when the milkman, who was dashing away from the
Putnams', reined in his horses very noticeably, nudged the small boy on
the side of the wagon, and both looked curiously at him.
Mr. Budgett walked a few steps, then looked furtively behind him.
Imagine his feelings at discovering that the milkman had stopped his
horses, and that the small boy was running quietly after him, but
stopped as he noticed Mr. Budgett glance around.
"There certainly is something wrong," decided Mr. Budgett; "though I
didn't think those little rascals would make a spectacle of me. As I
live, their heads are out of the window yet. And look at the Putnams!"
he exclaimed, aloud.
Well might he stop in surprise. There was Mrs. Putnam standing in the
library window, with Abby and Sarah on tiptoe beside her; the two boys
at a large upper window, poking each other and giggling audibly; Mr.
Putnam at a third, apparently consulting a thermometer, but looking
across at Mr. Budgett as though he possessed far more interest for him
than any degree on the indicator; and lastly, Jane and Bridget on the
side stoop, gazing as though he were a candidate for Barnum's.
Uncle Budge turned abruptly, and went home.
"Polly, what's the matter with me?" he asked, walking into the
dining-room, where Aunt Budge was drying her coffee-caps. "All Berkville
is agog."
"Berkville agog!" cried Aunt Budge, inspecting Mr. Budgett critically.
"I'm sure I don't know over what. However, the boys are up to something,
for they said as much."
"Of course they are," agreed Uncle Budge; "but can't you take it off,
Polly? It's on my back, I guess."
"Something alive!" screamed Aunt Budge. "Why don't you shake yourself,
Jacob?"
Uncle Budge laughed heartily.
"It would be as well," advised Aunt Budge, "to give 'em the gold at
once, for they'll play the trick, Jacob, whatever it is, on you till you
do."
"Give them the gold!" exclaimed Uncle Budge, wonderingly. "My dear
Polly, what do you mean?"
"They say you promised 'em each a gold piece last year if they'd come on
and fool you this."
"I did?" with still more surprise in his voice--"I did? 'Pon my word I'd
forgotten it. Well, well," producing the purse that Polly had knitted
for him years ago. "Where are the rascals?" Then going to the stairs,
"Rick and Karl, come down here," he called, with an affected sternness
in his voice. "The idea of your daring to make a guy of your old uncle!"
"We haven't made a guy of you," said the boys, rushing down; "and it
isn't a mean fool at all, Uncle Budge, for it's really nothing."
"Nothing!" echoed Aunt Budge. "Why is everybody staring, then?"
"Only the Putnams," they explained. "We sent a telegram to the boys--"
"Telling them what?" interrupted Uncle Budge. "Not all about it, I
hope?"
"No; merely to be on the look-out for you."
"You don't mean it!" chuckled Uncle Budge; "and that that whole family
is fooled from garret to cellar, milkman included. Well, well, pretty
good, pretty good. You deserve a reward, boys, for there'll be few
tricks played to-day that'll end as pleasantly as this. It's the right
kind of one, and the more of that sort the merrier."
"Beauties, ain't they?" cried Aunt Budge, admiringly, as the boys laid
their gold pieces on the table where the sun came streaming in, and
called her to look at them.
"Seems to me," said Karl, "they're bigger than Chan Holmes's."
"His has worn down, perhaps," said Rick, spinning his glittering coin.
"Why, look here! what's this? 'Two and a half D.'"
"No you don't," answered Karl, knowingly. "I'm too well posted on the
day of the month."
"Well, I know these are two-dollar-and-a-half pieces," cried Rick,
snatching his hat, "and I'm off to thank Uncle Budge for _his_ fool,"
and away he went, and Karl after him when he found it was true.
[Begun in HARPER'S YOUNG PEOPLE No. 66, February 1.]
PHIL'S FAIRIES.
BY MRS. W. J. HAYS,
AUTHOR OF "PRINCESS IDLEWAYS," ETC.
CHAPTER IX.
A VISIT FROM THE YOUNG DOCTOR.
"Now, Phil," said Miss Rachel, "I am not going to be so busy for a while,
and though you can not study yet, for the doctors say you must not, I
shall read aloud to you a little every day. Graham has promised to come
often to visit you, and with our boating and driving, and pleasant
friends coming to stay with us, I think we shall have rather a nice
summer. What do you think?"
Phil's face lighted up with a grateful smile, which grew into rather a
sober expression.
"I think it is all delightful; but--"
"But what, my dear; are you not contented?"
"Oh yes, more than that: I am as happy as I can be; but--"
"Another but."
"Miss Rachel, what becomes of all the poor sick children in the city who
have no such friend as you are to me?"
"They suffer sadly, dear Phil."
"Then don't you think I ought to remember them sometimes?"
"Yes, in your prayers."
"Is there no other way?"
"I am not sure that there is for a child like you. Perhaps there may be,
and we will think about it; but you must not let such a thought oppress
you; it is too much for a sick child to consider. Be happy; try to get
well; do all you can to make everybody about you glad that you are here,
by pleasant looks and good-nature. There, that is a little sermon which
you hardly need, dear, for you are blessed with a sweet and patient
temper, and are far less troublesome than many a well child."
"I suppose I do not deserve any praise if I was made so," said Phil,
laughing.
"No, not a bit; the poor cross little things who fret and tease and
worry are the ones who should be praised when they make an effort not to
be disagreeable. But I am not going to preach any more. I am going down
stairs to make some sponge-cake for the picnic you and Lisa and I are
going to have to-morrow."
"A picnic! a real one in the woods?"
"Yes, and here comes Graham with a basket. I wonder what is in it.
Good-by. I will send him up to you."
Graham came up in a few moments with the basket on his arm.
"Guess what I have here, Phil."
"How can I?"
"Oh yes, you can--just guess."
"Something to eat?"
"No, little piggy; or rather yes, if you choose."
"Well, chickens or eggs?"
"No, neither."
"Fruit?"
"Guess again."
"Medicine for some of your father's sick people?"
"No."
"Flowers? Oh no, one can not eat flowers if they choose. I give it up."
[Illustration: PHIL'S PRESENT.]
"Well, then, watch," and lifting the cover slowly, three cunning white
rabbits poked their little twitching noses over the edge of the basket.
Phil gazed at them delightedly. "And you call those little darlings
something to eat, do you?"
"If you choose, yes."
"As if any one could choose to be such a cannibal! What precious little
beauties they are! Oh, how pretty they look!"
"They are for you."
"Really! Oh, thank you, Graham. But you must ask Miss Schuyler."
"I did, and I am to build them a hutch. Until I do, there is an empty
box in the barn where they can stay."
"And can you build?--handle tools like a carpenter? How nice that must
be!"
"Oh, that's nothing; all boys can do that."
Graham forgot that Phil was one boy who could not, but seeing the shade
come over his friend's face made him repent his hasty speech.
"I beg your pardon," he said, in a low voice.
"No, you need not, Graham. I must get used to being different from other
boys. Well, these are just the loveliest little things I ever saw. What
do they live on?"
"Almost any green thing; they are very fond of lettuce. When you are
able, you must come and see my lop-ears."
"Have you many rabbits?"
"Yes, quite a number. Let me see: there's Neb (he's an old black fellow,
Nebuchadnezzar), and Miss Snowflake, Aunt Chloe (after the one in _Uncle
Tom's Cabin_), Fanny Elssler (because she jumps about so), and Mr.
Prim--he is the stillest old codger you ever saw."
"What other pets have you?"
"I've lots of chickens, three dogs, two cats, a squirrel, and a parrot."
"A large family."
"Yes, almost too large; they will have to be given up soon."
"How soon?"
"In the fall, I suppose; I am going to boarding-school."
"What fun!"
"You would be amused with Polly. She is a gay old thing--laughs, sings,
and dances."
"Oh, Graham, can she do all that?"
"Indeed she can; sometimes she sings like a nurse putting a child to
sleep, in a sort of humming hush-a-by-baby way; then she tries
dance-music, and hops first on one foot, then on the other--this way,"
and Graham began mimicking the parrot, and Phil laughed till the tears
came. "She screams out 'Fire!' like an old fury, but she is as serene as
a May day when she gets her cup of coffee."
"Is that your parrot, Graham?" asked Miss Schuyler.
"Yes, ma'am, that's our green and golden Polly."
"We will have to pay it a visit. Can you join our picnic to-morrow? it
is Phil's first one."
"Really! why, he has a good deal to learn of our country ways."
"Yes, and I have a little plan to propose in which you may help us.
Promise you will come."
"Oh, I am always ready, thank you, Miss Schuyler. Shall we go by boat?"
"To be sure, to Eagle Island."
"Then we will go early, I suppose, as it is quite a long pull. What must
I bring, Miss Schuyler?"
"Only your arms, Graham, for alone Joe will perhaps find the rowing a
little too much for him in the warm sun. I am Commissary-General for the
party. That means, Phil, that I furnish the provisions; a
Commissary-General has to see that his troops are well fed."
"There is no danger about that, I am sure," said Graham, gallantly, "if
Miss Schuyler leads us."
"Well, then, to-morrow at nine, before the sun is too high--earlier
would not do for Phil. And now be off with yourself; and your bunnies,
Graham, leave them in the barn; and tell your good, kind father that you
are an excellent substitute for himself, that Phil is improving even
faster with your visits than he did with his."
"Good-by, then, Phil; good-by, Miss Schuyler. To-morrow at nine."
[TO BE CONTINUED.]
PINAFORE RHYMES.--(_Continued._)
[Illustration]
Three organ men met in the street one day,
And all of them started at once to play;
They ground out their music from morning till night,
And the neighborhood felt in a terrible plight.
The rats and the mice scampered out of their holes,
And fled to the tops of the telegraph poles,
And a dog, that had patiently heard every tune,
Went mad at the last, and howled at the moon.
Then each of the organ men shouldered his pack,
And the neighborhood wished they might never come back.
* * * * *
[Illustration]
Dear Aunt Fanny drove up to the door
From her country home with a coach and four;
She brought a big bundle of candy and cake,
The sweetest and best she could purchase and bake;
And that is the reason she travelled in state,
For she knew that the dear little folks couldn't wait.
[Illustration]
* * * * *
[Illustration]
I'll tell you a story--it's not very long--
Of the terrible giant, old Pink-a-pong.
He lived in a castle so big and high
That the topmost turrets were up in the sky.
He made a great earthquake whenever he walked,
And it sounded like thunder whenever he talked.
He never jumped less than a mile at a bound,
And would frighten the people for leagues around;
And every one said this was very wrong
Of the terrible giant, old Pink-a-pong.
* * * * *
[Illustration]
Four little youngsters ran out of the mill,
Clambered right merrily over the hill;
Scampered about through the whole afternoon;
Went home at night by the light of the moon.
Foot-sore and weary and sleepy were they;
Slept all the night and the whole of next day.
* * * * *
[Illustration]
Blow, breezes, softly blow,
Rock the children to and fro;
Not too hard, and not too high,
Lest they should tumble out and cry.
[Illustration: OUR POST-OFFICE BOX.]
OGDENSBURG, NEW YORK.
I live on the banks of the St. Lawrence River. I suppose the little
readers in Florida think this is the north pole, and sometimes it
is so cold I think so too. My little brother and I skate. We can
not skate much on the St. Lawrence, for the ferry-boat from here to
Prescott tries to keep the ice broken, and when it does freeze, it
is very rough. But there is good skating on the Oswegatchie River,
which runs into the St. Lawrence here.
The old windmill where a battle was fought, ever so many years
ago, can be seen across the river, a mile and a half below
Prescott. It was made into a light-house about four years ago, and
is the best light on the St. Lawrence.
We have had snow and sleighing here ever since October. I attend
school, and I can look out of my school-room window and see a
number of miles into Canada, and have a splendid view of one of
the grandest rivers in the world.
CONE S. B.
* * * * *
PINCKNEY CORNERS, NEW YORK.
It was a glad surprise to us children when papa took YOUNG PEOPLE
for us this year.
I have a cat that can open grandma's door and come in. She has
only one ear, the other was frozen when she was a little kitten.
I wish Judith Wolff would write more to YOUNG PEOPLE about her
home. Mamma thinks it would be so nice to live there in the
tropics. Here we have had such deep snow all winter that we could
not go to school. I am nine years old.
ALLIE G.
* * * * *
DETROIT, MICHIGAN.
I am seven years old. I wanted to write and tell Charlie C. how
sorry I am for him because his little sister Annie died and left
him all alone. And I am very sorry, too, for Harry D. S., whose
papa was shot by the Mexicans.
I liked Jennie Anderson's letter about the flood. Mamma cried when
she read it to me.
I have just been to visit my cousin in Chicago, and I saw a monkey
in the park there that I thought must be Mr. Stubbs. I was so
sorry for Toby, and I hope old Ben will help him to get some more
money.
MABEL R. T.
* * * * *
HALIFAX, MASSACHUSETTS.
When I saw the game of Kangaroo in YOUNG PEOPLE No. 69, I got a
board and copied it nicely, and I want to tell you that my mother
and my sisters and I enjoy playing it very much.
C. MORTON P.
* * * * *
HILLSBOROUGH, MISSOURI.
I am eleven years old. I am so delighted with "Toby Tyler" and
"Phil's Fairies," that I can hardly wait for my little paper to
come.
I was very much pleased with the notice in YOUNG PEOPLE No. 70
about birds' eggs. I think it is a cruel thing to rob the little
birds of their eggs. My oldest brother is thirteen years old, and
he has never taken an egg out of a bird's nest.
LAURA H. MCM.
* * * * *
LEESPORT, PENNSYLVANIA.
We are much pleased to see that HARPER'S YOUNG PEOPLE is teaching
its readers to defend the little birds.
SALLIE, ROSE, and KATE W.
* * * * *
JERSEY CITY, NEW JERSEY.
When I saw the picture of Niagara in YOUNG PEOPLE No. 70, I thought
I would write and tell the little readers that I was born in a
house on the Canada side of the river, in February of a very cold
winter, when an ice mound like the one in the picture reached as
high as the falls, and did not melt, entirely away that year until
the 2d of July. There was an ice bridge, too, so that people
crossed from one shore to the other.
I have a nice collection of postage stamps, and I have the
autograph of Prince Arthur, the third son of Queen Victoria.
S. P. S.
* * * * *
PALATKA, FLORIDA.
My home is in Norwalk, Connecticut, but I came here in January,
with papa and mamma, for my health, and we are not going home until
May.
I like Florida very much, for I can be out-of-doors from morning
until night, and I have such good times playing in the sand. All
the soil here is white and sandy, and full of little shells. The
orange-trees are in bud, and will soon be in full blossom. We have
lots of pretty flowers, and nice strawberries, and green peas.
I saw a large panther which had been killed a few miles from here,
and also an alligator nearly thirteen feet long, which was to be
stuffed for a museum. We see lots of little alligators; they are
very funny-looking things.
BERTHA E. S.
* * * * *
TROY, NEW YORK.
The YOUNG PEOPLE is so nice I wish it would come twice a week
instead of once. I am saving all my copies to show to my uncle John
when he comes back. Now he is at Fort Custer, Montana, fighting the
Indians. He sent me a baby buffalo skin with the head and tail all
on. We put it in the little sleigh when we take my baby brother out
riding.
A. J. H. S.
* * * * *
REDWOOD FALLS, MINNESOTA.
I like my YOUNG PEOPLE very much, and I have been so sorry this
winter because I could not get it regularly, because the trains
were stopped by the great snow. At one time our postmaster went to
Sleepy Eye, twenty-six miles from here, and brought the mail on a
hand-sled on top of the snow-drifts. Then I received three numbers
of YOUNG PEOPLE all at once.
J. MABEL M.
* * * * *
RIO, ILLINOIS.
I am just overjoyed when YOUNG PEOPLE comes. I always sit down and
read it all through, and oh, how I wish there was as much again! I
don't suppose I shall get it to-day, for the train is stuck tight
in a snow-bank below Rio. Three engines are trying to pull it out,
but they can not move it. We have had a terrible winter here. The
snow has drifted clear across the road and right over the fences,
so that teams could not go anywhere.
NELLIE A. R.
* * * * *
FOND DU LAC, WISCONSIN.
I have a dog that drags me all around the city on my sled. The snow
here is six or seven feet deep in many places. Some of the houses
are half covered up with drifts. I jumped from our up-stairs barn
door into a drift twelve feet deep, and I had hard work to get out
of it.
FRED G. S.
* * * * *
EMMETSBURG, IOWA, _March_ 4, 1881.
We have had a long, cold winter here. To-day there is a regular
"blizzard," and we have had a great many already. We live on the
Milwaukee and St. Paul Railroad, but have not seen a train since
January 29, because the cuts are all filled with snow, and as fast
as they are cleared out, another "blizzard" comes and fills them up
again. I don't get YOUNG PEOPLE very regularly, only when the stage
brings the mail, and then I get several numbers at once. The drifts
are very high, and we walk on them over the tops of the fences. One
drift is twelve feet deep.
SCOTTIE O.
* * * * *
HUNTINGDON, PENNSYLVANIA.
I am a very little girl. Mamma reads the stories and little letters
in YOUNG PEOPLE to me. I felt so sorry for Toby Tyler when Mr.
Stubbs threw away his money that I made a little bag, and put some
of my pennies in it, and I have asked mamma so many times to send
it to him that now she is going to do it, and when I think Toby has
this nice little red money bag, and some more pennies, I shall feel
a great deal better. I am blowing soap-bubbles in the sunshine by
the window, while mamma writes this for me. I know my letters, and
can print some, and I hope soon to do my own writing.
Mamma helped me print a letter to Santa Claus, and I told him just
what I wanted him to bring me. I put my letter in the chimney, and
next morning it was gone, and dear old Santa Claus brought me just
what I asked him for. I screamed up the chimney, and tried to make
him hear me, but he never answered a word.
CHRISIE B. B.
A little red bag, evidently the work of a "very little girl," containing
three very bright pennies, accompanied this letter. It has been sent to
Mr. Otis, who has written the story of the little boy's wanderings, and
we are sure that when it reaches him, Toby Tyler will be pleased and
comforted by this pretty expression of sympathy. The little readers of
YOUNG PEOPLE are very lavish with their offers of kindness to this
unfortunate boy. A great many homes are proffered to him, and no end of
pennies and other comforts.
Indeed, no story that we remember has excited so much interest in its
readers as that of "Toby Tyler." We could fill the Post-office Box with
the letters received from our young correspondents, expressing their
sympathy and delight. Many letters from parents also show that grown-up
people are interested in the story, not only for the good lesson which
it teaches, but for the graphic and entertaining manner in which the
boy's adventures are told.
* * * * *
SEWICKLEY, PENNSYLVANIA.
DEAR YOUNG PEOPLE,--Would you please tell me where Toby Tyler is? I
would like to send him my fifty cents to help him home. I am so
sorry Mr. Stubbs threw his money away, and I think Toby was a good
boy not to punish him for it.
CARRIE M. M.
We do not know at present where Toby Tyler is; and we advise our young
correspondents, who show such a pleasant disposition to help him, to
wait for the end of his story, and see how his adventures turn out.
* * * * *
SUMMERSIDE, PRINCE EDWARD ISLAND.
I am eleven years old, but I have never been to school. I learn my
lessons at home. I am in the Fourth Royal Reader.
I wish some of the little girls in the Southern States could see
all the snow we have here. The train passes close to our house,
and it is great fun watching it go out to Charlottetown with three
engines, and the snow-plough sending the snow in all directions.
ELLIE G.
* * * * *
LITTLE SALMON VALLEY, IDAHO.
I have taken YOUNG PEOPLE ever since the first number, and I think
it is the best paper for boys and girls I ever saw.
The snow is very deep here, and we are going round on snow-shoes.
We boys have lots of fun riding down hill on them.
WILLIAM H. O.
* * * * *
Willie M. Bloss, Montreal, Canada, desires to inform correspondents that
he will not exchange any longer for postmarks.
Elijah G. B., Cleveland, Ohio, and Shelton A. Hibbs, Philadelphia,
Penn., withdraw their names from our exchange list.
* * * * *
Charles Gruner, Brooklyn, N. Y., made a mistake in his offer printed in
the Post-office Box of YOUNG PEOPLE No. 71. He wishes to exchange
foreign stamps and foreign coins for old United States copper one-cent
and half-cent pieces, coins, curiosities, and postmarks.